At Hannibal’s insistence Bea checked her jewelry case and announced with some arrogance that nothing was missing.
“Good,” Hannibal said, exploring the dresser she had assigned to Dean. “Did you have any cash in the house?”
Pause. “Maybe a couple of hundred dollars I guess.”
“And where is that?”
“Well I figure he must have needed some expense money, after all.”
The big walk-in closet was clearly divided. Her clothes hung or lay folded in perfect order on the left, while his were on the right. Dean had left most of his clothes behind, but they were in no way remarkable. Hannibal found what would be a set of luggage on the overhead racks, but the second largest piece was missing.
Hannibal found British Sterling cologne in the bathroom. Otherwise Dean must have used her toothpaste, soap and shampoo, with no brands of his own. And Hannibal doubted a fingerprint team could prove that a second person ever lived there after Bea’s cleaning binge. Dean’s toothbrush and comb were gone, so not even a stray sample of the man’s hair remained.
Yes, Dean was remarkable for the footprint he did not leave behind. Bea confirmed he had brought no pictures when he moved in, no music, no games, and only a handful of books, which he took when he left. After forty-five minutes in her apartment, Hannibal knew no more about Dean Edwards than when he arrived.
On Bea’s front landing the afternoon sun made the world seem a lot cleaner than it was. They moved at an easy pace on their way to the car, floating through an idyllic setting that had nothing to do with the ache on Bea’s face. She waved sullenly to a middle aged white man who was lovingly paste waxing a maroon Jaguar XJ6 of indeterminate age.
“If he keeps at it, that car will shine as bright as his scalp,” Hannibal said.
“Oh, Murray’s okay,” Bea said. “No crime against being chubby, white and bald. He’s a good neighbor, and he’s out here doing something on that car every Saturday and Sunday.”
“Really? Did he see Dean leave?”
“Maybe,” she said, reaching for the Volvo’s door handle.
“Maybe? You mean you haven’t asked him?”
Hannibal turned and headed back toward the Jaguar. Murray kept his head down and his arm moving in a smooth circular motion. Hannibal understood. He was an unknown and Murray didn’t want any trouble with his neighbor. So Hannibal stood, watching his own reflection in the maroon hood until Bea reached his side. Then he took Bea’s hand and broadened his smile to its limit.
“Excuse me. Got a minute?”
Murray looked up, his eyes flicking from Hannibal to Bea and back. Then Murray smiled in return, nodded and muttered, “Much better” under his breath. His expression said he approved of the new man more than the last one. “What can I do for you?”
“That car’s a beauty. Must take a lot of work, eh?”
Murray grinned bigger. “Sorry sport, she’s not for sale if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Actually, Bea tells me you were working on her yesterday too. Thought you might have seen Dean go out.”
“Maybe,” Murray said. His eyes grew wary and his focus shifted to Bea. “Why? You after him?”
Hannibal patted Bea’s hand in his. “Well he hasn’t been back since yesterday morning and, well, Bea’s a bit worried about him. I thought you might have noticed what time it was or which way he went.”
Conflict contorted Murray’s face. Hannibal thought he might not want to get involved with a neighbor’s personal life. Or maybe he just didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Or maybe he knew something he wasn’t sure he should share. Hannibal reevaluated the man’s age and probable social background, and decided how he should proceed. He turned to Bea and his smile became condescending.
“Honey, why don’t you go ahead and get in the car and let the men talk for a minute, okay?”
Bea looked confused but obeyed. Hannibal resisted slapping her fanny for effect, but he did pick up a chamois and start rubbing the Jaguar’s fender. Murray was silent for a moment, until he seemed to realize he had control of the conversation. Some people are comfortable with silence. Hannibal had judged correctly that Murray was not.
“You going to take care of her? Instead of her taking care of you?”
“I’m not Dean, if that’s what you mean,” Hannibal said in conspiratorial tones.
Murray worked the chrome of the door handle with more concentration than necessary. “He left around ten- thirty. Right behind the woman.”
“Woman?” Hannibal asked. “Are you saying he had another woman here?” He didn’t have to fake his indignation. Bea deserved better.
“White woman,” Murray said, as if that was significant. “Skinny blonde dame, older than him by a ways. She hit that door as soon as Miss Collins rounded the corner.” Murray glanced around as if he was looking for someplace to spit.
Hannibal nodded in agreement with his sentiments. “How long was she in there?”
“Maybe half an hour. Just about long enough, if you know what I mean.”
“And Dean came out five or ten minutes later,” Hannibal said aloud but to himself. That was just time enough to pack if he was in a hurry. So who was the woman? Certainly not a lover despite Murray’s obvious assumption. “He was carrying a suitcase. Did he leave on foot? Which way did he head?”
Murray sat back on his haunches. “What are you, some kind of a detective?”
“Something like that. Just trying to help Bea out. Which way?”
“He was walking when he left,” Murray said, glancing over at Bea in Hannibal’s car. “Never looked left or right, just headed up toward Washington Street. Looked like he was in an awful hurry to get away from here. Can’t understand it myself. She’s a peach, that girl.”
Hannibal nodded again. “Thanks for the help, mister. I think maybe the only way for her to understand what this guy was, is to face him again. If I can find him, then maybe…”
4
Hannibal shook Murray’s hand just as Bea’s silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot beside Hannibal’s car. He reached it in time to see Cindy hand Bea her keys.
“That was fun,” Cindy said. “Might have to get myself a car one of these days.”
“You don’t own a car?” Bea asked, as if Cindy had just revealed she didn’t wear underwear.
“She prefers to hand her money to cab drivers,” Hannibal said, “or ride around with me.”
Cindy slipped a possessive arm around Hannibal’s waist. “Yep, this is my favorite cabby right here. So, did you get anywhere, honey?”
Honey was what Cindy called Hannibal in the presence of unattached women. He considered it only marginally more subtle than the method dogs use to mark their territory. “I was just getting the lay of the land here, Cindy. The work will start after I get some pictures to distribute.”
“When can we get started with that?” Bea asked.
“If the reporter or cameraman who covered the event you and Dean attended is at work today I should get them pretty quickly,” Hannibal said. “I, not we.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Bea,” Hannibal said in his gentlest voice, “I’m sorry but we can’t do this together. I can do this. Or you can do this. The choice, of course, is up to you.”
The woman actually pouted. “But I want to do something.”
“Then stay by the phone,” Hannibal said. “He might call or send a message. But leave the searching to me, all right? That’s what you’re paying me for.”
News Channel 8 was all local and all news and, as expected, a twenty-four hour operation. But despite what Hannibal told Bea, he was surprised to find the reporter he needed to talk to at work on a Sunday evening. Yet
