“This your wife?”
“That’s her,” he said.
“She’s a beauty.”
Valentine took a deep breath. Sissy was trying to be nice, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her to say what was on her mind, and get out of his house.
“What happened to Mona?” he asked.
Sissy continued to admire the photograph. “She’s disappeared. Went to the beach yesterday and never came home. We do buddy checks. When she didn’t answer her phone this morning, I went looking for her.”
“Any luck?”
“Just her car. It was parked in the lot of the Catholic church near the casino. I talked to the priest. He said it had been there overnight.”
“You file a missing person’s report?”
“No. Do you mind?”
Before he could object, Sissy removed Lois’s photograph, and picked up the one beneath it. It was of Gerry at his fifth birthday. He was dressed in a Batman costume and was blowing out the candles on a sagging ice cream cake. Sissy rubbed his face with her thumb, then seemed embarrassed and put the photograph down.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I’m leaving town. I did what I could.”
“I thought Mona was your friend.”
“You think a missing person report is going to make a difference?”
“It’s a start,” he said, growing angry with her.
She took her fake fur off the chair, and slipped it on. “I told Mona to stay off the streets until this sicko was caught. She didn’t listen. You know why?”
He shook his head.
“There’s an old expression. Quit the business, before the business quits you. Mona didn’t know when to quit.” Sissy walked to the front door, opened it, then turned and looked him square in the eye. “I do.”
He followed her outside to the curb. Sissy drove a baby-blue Mustang, and it was packed with everything she owned, the clothes and kitchen utensils thrown across the seats like she’d robbed a rummage sale.
“If you see her again, tell her I’m sorry,” Sissy said.
Valentine watched her drive away, then went back inside his house.
He sat at his kitchen table, and tried to decide what to do with the information Sissy had given him. The rules for being suspended were clear: No involvement in any active investigations. He couldn’t call Banko without getting himself in more hot water, only sitting on the information wasn’t an option, either. Not if he wanted to sleep at night, and live with his conscience. He picked up the phone and called Lois at work. His wife was on break, and he told her everything that Sissy had said.
“You have to call Banko, and tell him,” Lois said when he was finished.
“Even if I end up getting fired?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
He’d thought of a dozen surreptitious ways of getting the information about Mona to Banko without getting involved. As if reading his thoughts, Lois said, “He may not be happy with you Tony, but he will believe you, and that’s what counts.”
It made him feel better, knowing his wife was behind him. He told her that he loved her, then hung up and called his superior.
“Let me get this straight. A hooker drove to your house, and gave you this information?” Banko said incredulously a few minutes later. His tone was severe, and Valentine could feel an invisible noose tightening around his neck.
“That’s right,” he said.
“You entertain hookers at your house often?”
“She dates a cop. Said he gave her my address.”
Banko swore like he’d banged his thumb with a hammer. “Did she tell you this cop’s name?”
“No, sir.”
“Why —”
“I didn’t ask her.”
“If there’s a bad apple on the force, I want to know about it.”
Valentine was standing at his sink, looking at his postage stamp of a backyard filled with cheap kid’s playthings. It was what thirty-six grand a year bought you, and he said, “I was more concerned about Mona, if you want to know the truth.”
There was a long pause on the other end.
“All right, here’s what I’ll do,” Banko said. “I’ll file a Missing Person report on Mona, and distribute it to the force, along with her mug shot. In return, I want you to promise me you’ll stay off this case. If you get a lead, you’ll call me. No more rogue police work, understand?”
