Sweet'N Low. You a cop?”
“A friend.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No, just a friend.”
“You look like a cop,” the neighbor said. “Act like one, too.”
“I used to be. How was Melinda's demeanor?”
“Her what?”
“Her attitude. How was she acting? Was she happy or sad? That sort of thing.”
The neighbor thought about it. “Pissed off was how I'd describe her.”
“About what?”
“Her cable TV was on the blink.”
An alarm went off inside my head.
“When did this happen?”
“This morning, I guess. Melinda got one of those plasma flat-screen TVs, and liked to watch the Discovery channel where they show those beautiful sunrises from all around the world. I've gone over to her place a couple of times and watched them with her. Ever seen the show?”
I nearly told her to drag her sorry ass out of bed some morning and come over to Dania and watch the real thing. Instead I shook my head.
“Did the cable repairman come?” I asked.
“I saw the van parked out front, so I guess they were here.”
“Was it white?”
“Come to mention it, yeah.”
“What time was this?”
“Couple hours ago.”
“So they came right away.”
She cackled. “Came like they were responding to a five-alarm fire. You ever see that girl in a bathing suit? That's all she wears in her apartment. Make your eyes pop out of your head. Even mine.”
“She's a beauty,” I said. “Can I go into your backyard, have a look around?”
“You don't think something's happened to Melinda, do you?” the neighbor asked.
“That's what I'm here to find out.”
She hesitated. A teacup-sized poodle darted out, sniffed my sandals, and started dry-humping my leg. Any other time, I would have drop-kicked the dog into the next county. Instead, I scooped it up and scratched its head.
“You got a dog?” she asked.
I pointed at Buster sitting regally in the Legend. She nodded approvingly.
“Anyone who owns a dog is okay in my book. My name is Gladys.”
“I'm Jack,” I said.
“Nice to meet you, Jack. Come on in.”
Gladys's backyard was the size of a postage stamp and surrounded by a sturdy picket fence. Hopping on the fence, I jumped onto the phone pole in the corner of the yard and started to climb. Running up the side of the pole was a black cable identical to the one I saw in Julie Lopez's backyard. Fifteen feet up, I stopped. The cable was cut right above the metal staple, same as Julie's pole. I climbed down.
“Find anything?” Gladys asked.
“The line's been cut.”
“You think someone cut Melinda's cable on purpose?”
“Could be.”
I hopped over the fence into Melinda's backyard and looked around. Through a glass slider I was able to peer into Melinda's kitchen. Everything looked normal except for a chair sitting upended on the floor. Taking out my cell phone, I called my police buddy Claude Cheever.
“I'm at Melinda Peters's place,” I said. “Something's happened.”
“I'll be right over,” Cheever said.
Cheever pulled into the parking lot driving a filthy Pontiac Firebird. Besides the grime and dirt caked to the vehicle, an assortment of dead palmetto bugs, moths, and lovebugs was prominently displayed on the bumper and headlights. Claude's success as a cop did not come from his superior intellect or astonishing investigative technique. His gift was the ability to look like a lowlife. The fact that this came naturally simply made him that much more effective at what he did. I led him around to the back of Melinda's place.
“I heard what Melinda said on the radio,” Claude said, his face pressed to the slider.
“Bad news sure travels fast.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“No.”
“Not even once?”
“No, not even once.”
“Think someone forced her to do that interview?”
Claude was looking at me in the slider's reflection, and I nodded.
“I once called into Neil Bash's show when he was talking about gun control,” Cheever said. “The show's broadcast live, you know.”
It took me a moment to get his drift. If Melinda had been forced to call Bash's show, her abductors were taking a risk, since she could have blurted out the truth. Yet, it wasn't something that I saw Melinda doing on her own.
“Someone made Melinda say those lies,” I said.
“That's good enough for me,” Cheever said.
Cheever found the complex's superintendent and got him to unlock Melinda's front door. Cheever told the super to hang around, then went inside. I followed him and walked down a narrow hallway to the kitchen.
Everything looked normal except the upturned chair. I covered my hand with a paper towel and righted it, then studied the scratches running along one side. The marks were fresh, and I envisioned Melinda's kidnappers dragging her across the floor while she was still in it. I slid the chair back into its spot at the table.
Kitty was happy to see me, and I filled a bowl with crunchies and put it on the floor. Then I checked the countertops and table. Nothing looked out of place. Picking up a pencil, I used the eraser to press a button on the answering machine and check for messages. There were none.
Beside the phone was a notepad filled with cartoonlike drawings. I peeled the pages back with the tip of the pencil and saw pictures of cats, horses, and other domestic animals. The drawing on the last page caught my eye. It contained a pair of stick figures standing in front of a two-story house with lollipop trees and smoke billowing from its chimney. The figures were holding hands and sporting big smiles. They were a man and a woman, and the man wore a badge.
I gave the room another sweep. Beneath the table lay a book bag, which I pulled out and opened. It contained a GED prep book and a laminated badge for Broward Community College with Melinda's picture on it. She looked different from the woman I knew; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her face without makeup.
“Hey, Jack, come here,” Cheever called out.
Closing the bag, I walked down the hallway and entered the bedroom. Cheever sat on a water bed with a collection of Winnie the Pooh teddy bears at its head. A suitcase lay on the floor, stuffed with winter clothes. Cheever was going through the suitcase and glanced suspiciously at me.
“Looks like Melinda was planning to take a trip,” he said.
“She was going to Aspen,” I said.
“She tell you that?”
“I arranged for her to stay at a house there. She was afraid of Skell coming after her once he got released.”
“Were you going with her?”
“No, I wasn't going with her.”
“You sure you're not fucking her, Jack?”
