Prescott, is living proof of the many mistakes made by God or Darwin. Adele is a smart kid, a decent kid. She said she would go to school, stay off the Trail. She said she wanted to stay with her father. He said he wanted her.”
“But…?”
“No hard evidence,” she said. “Just hints and the fact that our Dwight spent time in prison for child molesting. I think Adele’s afraid of him. I think Adele also wants to be with him and doesn’t at the same time. I think, maybe, he knew she was hustling. She… it’s not easy. I think Dwight has been molesting Adele sexually. I think he did it when she was a kid and started up again when she came looking for him in Sarasota. She wants to please her daddy.”
“And the court said she could stay with her father,” I said.
“That’s it. No one knew there was a mother. Courts send kids home if there’s any way to do it. Doesn’t matter what the parent or parents have done in the past, doesn’t matter that a significant number of kids returned to abusive parents are abused again, some of them wind up dead.”
“Now there’s Beryl,” I said.
“Now there’s Beryl, but no matter what a court says, Adele is smart, street wise and able to run back to her father.”
“It’s worth a try,” I said.
“It’s worth a try,” she agreed.
“So,” she said. “I’ll give you Dwight’s address-the real one, not the one he gave the school-and we’ll move the evening on to the North Trail, because if you find Adele you want me to be there.”
“You’ve got it.”
“You know how to show a girl a good time on the first date,” she said.
“Richard Gere,” I said.
“Stanley Tucci,” she said.
“So I’ve been told.”
The dividing line between Bradenton and Sarasota is just north of the airport, New College and the Asolo Center for the Performing Arts on North Tamiami Trail. Sarasota is a Culture town, capital “C” in Culture. There’s an art museum, five Equity theaters, including one that only does musicals, a massive concert hall, a ballet company, and an opera company.
There wasn’t much that could be considered big-C culture near the first phone booth outside the Warm Breeze Motel across from the Harcourt Inn. We checked the booth. The number was wrong. Sally went into the Warm Breeze to ask some questions.
While I waited outside, a prostitute took me for a Mister Right.
“Want some company?” she asked.
She was a washed-out brunette with sad eyes, rough skin and almost no breasts.
“No thanks, but I’d like to know if you recognize this girl.”
I took out my wallet and handed Adele’s photograph to the hooker, who didn’t look much older than the girl she was looking at.
“Nice-looking kid,” she said flatly and handed back the picture. “You a cop? I thought I knew all the cops in town. New?”
“I’m not a cop,” I said. “I’m just trying to find a missing girl for her mother and ask her some questions.”
“Thought you were a cop. Lots of cops last week or so.”
“Why?”
“Why am I telling you this? You want conversation? Ten bucks.”
I put Adele’s photograph back in my wallet and removed a ten-dollar bill. She took it.
“A john got killed at the Yellow Sun, across the street there. Cops marched all the girls in, asked questions, found nothing.”
Traffic whizzed by. A car slowed down. A dirty-blond kid with a big round face stuck his head out of the window and in a redneck voice called,
“That the best you can do, man? You are really sorry.”
And the car sped up.
The girl clenched her teeth, took a breath, and tried to jump back in the game.
“That worth another five?” she said.
I shook my head no.
“Hard times,” the girl said, stuffing the ten in a pocket in her dress. “Her name’s Suzanne, at least on the Trail. Worked from the Linger Longer.”
She nodded over her shoulder. Across Tamiami Trail and two motels down was a tired neon sign with a flashing arrow pointing the way to the Linger Longer Motel.
“And?” I asked.
“Then she was gone,” the girl said with a shrug.
“Who was working her?”
The girl shrugged again and looked across the busy street at nothing.
“That wasn’t worth ten dollars,” I said.
“All you’re gettin’,” she said. “Hard times, remember.”
Sally came out of the Warm Breeze Motel. The girl saw her coming, turned around and tried to look as if she wasn’t in a hurry.
“Anything in there?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “You get anything from Jean Ann?”
“You know her?” I said, watching the girl move away between motel neon lights and in between shadows.
“Yes. Not one of mine. Belongs to Medino Guttierez. I’ll tell him she’s out here again.”
“Adele is calling herself Suzanne. She works out of the Linger Longer Motel. Hasn’t been seen for a few days.”
We drove across the street to the Linger Longer. There was a phone booth in front of it. The number was the one from which Adele had called her mother.
“Game plan,” I said, looking over at Sally. “I go in alone. You stay here. If she spots you through a window, she may run. When I have her located, I’ll come for you.”
“And what do you do when you find her?” she asked.
“I talk,” I said. “And you?”
“Not much more,” she said. “I can have her brought in for being on the street. She’s underage. I can keep it off her record. I’ve got friends in low places. She’s better off in juvenile detention than out here and maybe-”
“Then that’s the plan,” I said, opening the door.
“Be careful, Lew,” she said, touching my arm.
I nodded, gave what passed for a reassuring smile and got out.
The glass door on the Linger Longer Motel office said American Express, MasterCard, Visa, Discover were welcome and that German, Spanish, French and Canadian were spoken inside. It also said the clerk kept no cash. I pushed the door open. There was no lounge, no chair and not much room to linger. A coffeepot sat half full with white foam cups next to it. Behind the low counter, a kid sat reading a book. He put the book down and said, “Can I help you?”
“Why not Italian?” I asked.
“Pardon?”
“Sign on the door says German, French, Spanish. Why not Italian?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t get Italian tourists.”
“You speak German, French, Spanish?”
“A little.”
He took off his big glasses and stood up with a polite smile.
I took out my wallet and the photograph of Adele and handed it to him. He put his glasses back on.
