‘You’re a secret moralist, but you wear a cynic’s overcoat well. I know that I’m going to be sorry for letting you keep talking, but go on. I’m listening.’
‘I know I’m off the job, but I need a little indulgence. Expenses only: mine, and Angel and Louis’s.’
‘Yours I can afford. I’m not sure about theirs.’
‘We’ll keep them reasonable.’
‘For how long?’
‘A couple of days.’
‘And I would be doing this why?’
‘Because you’re curious about what Randall Haight has kept hidden from us, and what Kurt Allan does in his spare time, and because somewhere in this mess may be the answer to the question of Anna Kore’s disappearance.’
‘You could just hand over what you know to the police.’
‘I could, but all I have is a couple of anonymous texts about Allan and my own insatiable curiosity about the details of other people’s lives. Anyhow, it’s more interesting this way, and more satisfying.’
‘I’ll give you two days. And I want receipts. And nothing over five hundred dollars without prior approval. And if anybody asks, or you get caught doing something you shouldn’t, I’ll deny any knowledge of this conversation.’
‘And if we find anything useful to the cops?’
‘You can tell them I guided your every move with a firm but gentle hand.’
‘You make it sound dirty.’
‘It is,’ she concluded. ‘And not in a good way.’
I drove on to Pastor’s Bay, making some calls along the way. According to Haight, Lonny Midas had one older brother, Jerry, but I had been able to find no trace of a Jerry Midas in Drake Creek or its vicinity. Neither could I find a Social Security number linked with a Jerry Midas and originating in North Dakota. It was a long shot, especially as it was Sunday, but I made a call to the sheriff’s department in Drake Creek. After a delay during which I listened to the same couple of bars of Pachelbel’s ‘Canon’ played over and over on what sounded like a child’s xylophone, I was put through to Sheriff Douglas Peck. A Sheriff Douglas Peck had been named in some of the newspaper articles following Selina Day’s killing. Three decades later, he had either started out young or law enforcement in the county was a family business.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ he said.
‘My name is Charlie Parker,’ I said. ‘I’m a private detective up here in Maine.’
‘Congratulations.’ He didn’t say anything more, which suggested that Sheriff Peck was a man with a sense of humor, albeit a sarcastic one.
‘You wouldn’t be the same Douglas Peck who worked the Selina Day killing?’
‘I’m Douglas Peck the third. My father was Douglas Peck the second, and he was sheriff at that time. My grandfather was plain old Douglas Peck, and he was never a sheriff anytime or anywhere. If this is about the Day murder, then I can’t tell you more than what you can find on the Internet.’
‘You can’t, or you won’t?’
‘Both.’
‘Perhaps I could talk to your father?’
‘Not unless you got access to one of them mediums. He’s been dead these past five years.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘You didn’t know him, so you can’t be sorry. Now, are we done here? I don’t want to be rude, but just because I don’t want it to rain doesn’t mean that I won’t get wet if I step outside, if you catch my drift.’
I wasn’t sure that I did. ‘I’ve been working for a man your father might have known as William Lagenheimer.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Peck. I heard the phone being put down, and then much of the background noise was muted as a door was closed.
‘Run that by me again,’ he said.
‘I’ve been working for William Lagenheimer, although he goes by another name now.’
‘Are you going to tell me in what capacity you’re working for him, or do I have to guess?’
‘He was receiving unwanted messages in the mail from somebody who had learned about his past and his previous identity. He wanted me to find out who was responsible.’
‘And did you?’
‘No. He has since dispensed with my services.’
‘Not surprising if you couldn’t help him.’
‘I try not to take these things personally. I also try not to let them get in the way of pursuing my inquiries.’
‘Why? You a charitable man? You must be if you like working for nothing.’
‘I just don’t like loose ends. I also don’t like it that a fourteen-year-old girl has gone missing up here, and from the same town in which Lagenheimer now lives.’
‘You think he had something to do with it?’
‘He has an alibi. I think he’s in the clear. It’s Lonny Midas that I’m curious about.’
‘And where are the police in all this?’
‘A request has gone to the North Dakota Attorney General’s Office requesting the information contained in the sealed records pertaining to the imprisonment and subsequent release of Lonny Midas and William Lagenheimer.’
‘So? The AG will oblige by releasing the information, but as you’re not a law-enforcement officer you have no right to it. Will that be all?’
‘Jerry Midas,’ I said.
‘What about him?’
‘You can’t tell me anything about Lonny Midas, but you can tell me how to get in touch with his brother.’
‘And why would I do that, assuming I knew anything about him in the first place?’
‘Because there’s a girl missing, and I want her found as much as the cops do. Look up my name, Sheriff Peck. If you need someone to vouch for me, try Detective Gordon Walsh of the Maine State Police. If you have a pen, I’ll give you his number.’
I wasn’t sure that Walsh would vouch for me, but I figured he owed me for the night before. Even if he didn’t feel any obligation, my interest in Jerry Midas might pique his own interest and I could possibly browbeat him into sharing whatever he discovered.
‘Let me have it,’ said Peck.
I gave him Walsh’s number and my own.
‘Leave it with me,’ he said. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
An hour later I was back in Pastor’s Bay, standing in Hallowed Grounds while the same tattooed barista worked behind the counter, although this time he was wearing a faded Ramones T-shirt and the music playing was a cover version of the Carpenters’ ‘Goodbye to Love’ by American Music Club. I had that tribute album. Hell, I think I even had the original album somewhere.
‘Morning, snitch,’ I said. ‘I saw an old lady jaywalking earlier. I didn’t get her name, but she can’t have got far. Maybe you can call someone and have her picked up.’
He tugged at the massive hole in his left ear created by a circular piercing through the lobe. I could have put my finger through it. It was a tempting image.
‘You get a good look at her?’ he replied. ‘We’ve got a lot of old ladies here. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a miscarriage of justice.’
‘A rat with a conscience. I may yet find it in my heart to forgive you.’
‘Hey, no hard feelings, man. I was just doing what was right.’
‘Yeah, you and Joe McCarthy both. It’s okay. In your position, I might even have done the same. To make up for my discomfort, you can brew me some fresh coffee. That pot smells like you’re stripping bones in it.’
He grinned and gave me the finger: customer service the Maine way.
‘The name is Danny, by the way.’
‘Charlie Parker. Don’t think this makes us friends.’
I leafed through some of the paperbacks on the shelf. A sign described them as ‘Gently Used,’ but there were
