An elderly man sat behind the counter, thick glasses shielding kind blue eyes. His hair was sparse, combed over, but there was barely enough to do a passable job of it. He was wearing blue overalls with suspenders, like the
OshKosh kid in his waning years. He smiled when we entered. His face was lined, but his cheeks were red, veiny, and his enthusiasm was genuine.
'Corolle doll, right?' the man said. 'Or if it's a boy, let me see…how about My First Pirate Set?'
'Excuse me?' I said.
'Well, I'm guessing you two to be, what? Twentyseven, twenty-eight? Thirty tops? Your kid is somewhere between three and six. Those toys are my most popular
sellers for that age group. So what'll it be? Corolle or pirates?'
'I'm sorry sir,' I said. 'You've got us wrong. We don't have any kids.'
'Bun in the oven?' he said.
'Nope,' Amanda said.
'Gift-hunting then?'
'Sorry,' I said. 'We're actually here because we're hoping you can answer a few questions for us.'
'Oh,' the man said, confused. 'Okay then, what can
I do you for?'
I took the receipt from my pocket.
'Were you working here at around three-thirty on July
'Assume I was. I'm here every day unless I'm sick, and I haven't been sick in some time. My name's Freddie, by the way. Nobody will be addressed by 'sir' in this store.'
'No problem, Freddie,' I said. I handed the receipt across the desk. Freddie looked at me, unsure of what to do with it.
'That's a receipt from this store, right?'
He picked it up, glanced at it, said, 'Looks like it.'
'Is there any way you could look up in your computer and see who this receipt was issued to?'
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It says here 'change'' He pointed to a line at the bottom. 'Means whoever paid, paid in cash.'
I grimaced. 'I know it's a long shot, but is there any way you might know who purchased that item?'
Freddie looked at the receipt again, furrowed his brow.
'This here is for accessories for a Victorian dollhouse,' he said. 'I don't do a lot of sales on dollhouse accessories.
Sad to say they're a little old-fashioned. But I keep some in stock just in case. Probably to make me happy more than the kids.' He thought for another moment, then said,
'Elaine Reed.'
'Excuse me?'
'Robert and Elaine Reed. Bob and Elaine. They came into my store all the time when their son, Patrick, was born. They bought that boy all sorts of toy soldiers, must have spent more money than they made on those things. I made sure they knew to keep them away from that boy's mouth. All those sharp parts, you know. But I remember
Elaine suddenly buying everything under the sun for a girl, including those accessories. Little tables, chairs, even a tiny medicine chest.'
'If they have a son, then why were they buying dollhouse accessories?' Amanda asked.
Freddie said, 'That's what I wondered. It wasn't just the accessories. The first thing they bought was an actual dollhouse. I had to special-order it for them. And not a cheap one, mind you. Then they kept coming back over the next few days to buy more doodads for it. I assumed it wasn't for Patrick-don't know if you can tell a boy's, er, sexual orientation at such a young age. So I asked Elaine one day.
Said, 'Elaine, what are all these doll parts for?' She told me they'd just had a baby girl.'
'Baby girl,' I said. 'Seems like bad parenting to buy such tiny things for a baby.'
'I thought the same thing, remembered what she'd done with Patrick and warned her about that. Elaine told me the girl was actually six years old. I thought, 'That's strange,
I didn't remember her being pregnant.''
'Did you ask her about it?' I said.
'Naw,' Freddie said. 'It's not my right to pry into my customers' business. But when I asked about it, Elaine kind of looked worried, like I'd pried or something. I figured they might have adopted, or something else was going on, but either way I was happy for the business. And happy for Elaine, because anyone who spends that much money on toys sure must love their child. Not to mention how happy that kid's going to be. But after that day I asked one question, Elaine and Bob never came back to my store. I hate to think I offended them.'
'Was Elaine a good parent?' Amanda asked.
'Wonderful,' Freddie said. 'Some of them, parents, I mean, you can tell they just buy things 'cause they feel obligated to. Like they just want to shut the kid up or think they can buy affection. Elaine, though, she loved it. You could tell she couldn't wait to get home and see the smiles on her kids' faces.'
'Did you happen to catch their daughter's name?' I asked.
'No, I didn't.'
'I know we're asking a lot, Freddie,' I said, 'but is there any chance you might have an address for Mr. and Mrs.
Reed? It's very important we speak to them.'
'I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?'
'My name's Henry Parker,' I said, handing Freddie a business card. 'We're investigating a story and really need to speak with the Reeds.'
'I hope everything's okay,' he said. The man was legitimately concerned.
'I hope so, too,' I said. 'But there's a chance there's something wrong with one of their children and we need to find them.'
Freddie nodded. 'I'll do whatever I can. I just hope they're safe. I think a while ago Bob bought Patrick one of those Erector sets, only Elaine didn't have enough room
in the car and asked for it to be shipped home.' Freddie rummaged under the desk, pulled out a large file box. He opened the lid, began to sift through alphabetical orders.
'Reed…Reed…Reed…here we go. Elaine and Bob
Reed.'
'Can you give us the address?'
'No problem. That package was shipped to 482
Huntley Terrace.'
My jaw dropped.
Amanda said, 'Henry, that's the house…'
'That burned down yesterday.'
I needed to learn more about the house on Huntley
Terrace. If Robert and Elaine Reed had bought it, there would have to be sale records. I could look them up on streeteasy. com. Even if they didn't have contact info for the Reeds, there would surely be a brokerage firm that would. It made sense. There was a dollhouse in the room
Amanda was held in, and the place looked like the perfect abode for a family with young children. But what I didn't understand was how the two men who held us that night were connected to the Reeds. Or how the Reeds were connected by proxy to Dmitri Petrovsky.
We drove around the streets looking for an Internet cafe. I didn't want to have to go all the way back to the city to use the computers at work. We were getting close to something. Many different spools, but I couldn't figure out the common thread that attached them.
'Look, there.' Amanda was pointing to a small pizza parlor. A sign posted outside read 'Internet Access.'
'You up for a slice and a socket?'
'I am a little hungry.'
