'He could be lying,' I said.
'Why would he do that?'
Good question. If Bunchy wasn't a bookie, then what? What was his involvement?
'About those pictures,' I said to Mabel. 'Do you have any idea when they might have been taken?'
Mabel added water to her teapot. 'I think it must have been recently because I never saw them before. I don't go into Fred's desk all the time, but every now and then I need something. And I never saw any pictures. Fred doesn't take pictures. Years ago, when the kids were little, we used to take pictures. Now Ronald and Walter bring us pictures of the grandchildren. We don't even own a camera anymore. Last year we had to take pictures of the roof for the insurance company, and we got one of those disposable cameras.'
I left Mabel to her tea and got back behind the wheel. I looked up and down the street. So far, so good. No Bunchy.
My next stop was the strip mall where Fred did his shopping. I parked in the same area where Fred's car was found. It was about the same time of day. Weather was similar. Seventy and sunny. There were enough people moving around that a scuffle would be noticed. A man walking around dazed would probably be noticed too, but I didn't think that's what I was looking for.
First Trenton was located at the end of the strip mall. It was a branch office with a drive-through window outside and full-service banking inside. Leona Freeman was a teller at First Trenton. She was a second cousin on my mother's side, a couple years older than me, and she had a head start on the family thing, with four kids, two dogs, and a nice husband.
Business was slow when I walked in, and Leona waved at me from behind the counter. 'Stephanie!'
'Hey, Leona, how's it going?'
'Pretty good. What's with you? You want some money? I gotta lot.'
I grinned.
'Bank joke,' Leona said.
'Did you hear about Fred going missing?'
'I heard. He was in here right before it happened.'
'Did you see him?'
'Yeah, sure. He got money from the machine, and then he went in to see Shempsky.'
Leona and I went to school with Allen Shempsky. He was an okay guy who'd worked his way up the ladder and was now a VP. And this was a new development. No one had said anything about Fred going to see Shempsky. 'What'd Fred want with Allen?'
Leona shrugged. 'Don't know. He was in there talking to Allen for about ten minutes. He didn't stop to say hello or anything when he came out. Fred was like that. Not the most sociable person.'
Shempsky had a small private office tucked between two other small private offices. His door was open, so I stuck my head in.
'Knock, knock,' I said.
Allen Shempsky looked at me blank-faced for a moment, and then I saw recognition kick in. 'Sorry,' he said, 'my mind was someplace else. What can I do for you?'
'I'm looking for my uncle Fred. I understand he talked to you just before he disappeared.'
'Yeah. He was thinking of taking out a loan.'
'A loan? What kind of a loan?'
'Personal.'
'He say what he needed the money for?'
'No. Wanted to know what interest rates were and how long would it take. That sort of thing. Preliminary stuff. No paperwork or anything. I think he was only in here for maybe five minutes. Ten tops.'
'Did he seem upset?'
'Not that I remember. Well, not any more than usual. Fred was sort of a grumpy guy. The family ask you to look for Fred?'
'Yeah.' I stood and gave Shempsky my card. 'Let me know if you think of anything significant.'
A loan. I couldn't help wondering if it was to pay off Bunchy. I didn't think Bunchy was a bookie, but I wouldn't be shocked to find he was a blackmailer.
The dry cleaner was in the middle of the strip of buildings, next to Grand Union. I knew the woman behind the counter by sight, but not by name. I brought my cloths here too, sometimes.
She remembered Fred, but not much else. He'd picked up his clothes and that was it. No conversation. They'd been busy at the time. She hadn't paid a lot of attention to Fred.
I went back to the Buick and stood there, looking around, trying to imagine what might have happened. Fred had parked in front of Grand Union, anticipating that he'd have groceries to carry. He'd laid the cleaning neatly on the backseat, then closed and locked the car. Then what? Then he'd disappeared. The mall opened to a four-lane highway on one side. Behind the mall was an apartment complex and the neighborhood of single-family houses where I'd searched for Fred.
The RGC office was down by the river, on the other side of Broad. It was an industrial area of warehouses and mom-and-pop factories. Not especially scenic. Perfect for a waste hauler.
