“Salzburg, yes,” Roger answered. “She was born in Chicago and went to Northwestern. She works for a small shipping company that handles delicate items—Pack-A-Gram, it’s called. They’re opening an office in Savannah. She was staying at the old Hayden house. You know the place, Abby. It was owned by Jimmy Hayden until last year when he died. His niece Shelly came back to take over the property and turned it into a B and B. She fixed it up nicely.”
There was little emotion in his voice, he was so distracted.
Abby thought, but didn’t say, that—like the known victims—Bianca had eaten at the Dragonslayer.
Malachi ended his call and made another before returning the phone to his pocket. “David’s on it and he’ll be here soon. We’ve reported the situation to our colleagues, as well. Bianca could show up in a few minutes, but we’ll get started on the information we need, just because we’re all concerned these days. So, how late is she, Roger?”
Roger glanced at his watch. “Now? Almost forty minutes.”
“My colleague Angela Hawkins is on her way here to wait with you. Meanwhile, Jackson Crow is hitting the national databases to get all the information we can on Bianca. Let’s hope she shows in a few minutes, apologizing for being late and explaining that she didn’t charge her phone.”
Roger jumped to his feet. “Helen! You have to get Helen to tell you what’s going on. I’ll go to the hospital. She’ll talk to me—she’ll tell us what happened. You saved her, right? She owes you, Abby. You have to make her tell you!”
Malachi rose and set his hands on Roger’s shoulders. “Look at me, buddy. You panicking will not help Bianca. We’ve spoken with Helen, and we’ll speak with her again, see if we can’t get some details that might help. But listen to me and try to understand. We can’t force Helen to tell us what she doesn’t know.”
“But,” Roger protested, “she’s alive! She has to know—”
“She says she saw a pirate,” Abby said.
“What?” Roger demanded.
“She thinks Blue Anderson attacked her.”
“Blue Anderson?” Roger repeated, looking at her blankly.
“Roger,” Malachi said in a firm voice, “relax. Sit down. You’ll wait here for a while longer. We’ll stay until Angela arrives. Then we’ll head out and start searching for her, okay? Every cop in the city will be on the lookout, too.”
Roger shook his head. “She’s underground somewhere. Or she’s being held on a ship. It’s not like they’ll be able to see her.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Malachi said.
Abby put a hand on Roger’s arm. “I’m going to get you one of Gus’s old fixes, okay? A cup of tea and whiskey. Calm those nerves a bit.”
“Yeah,” Roger said huskily. “Yeah, okay.”
By the time Abby snagged their waitress and got the tea for Roger, Angela had arrived. Tall, beautiful, controlled, she quickly had Roger talking to her, telling her about Bianca, how they’d met, and how great she was.
“Let’s go,” Malachi told Abby.
“Yes, get going,” Angela said. “Roger and I are fine here.”
“The check,” Abby began.
Angela waved a hand. “Roger and I may have something else while we’re here. And Jackson may come by soon. He’s already got fliers into the hands of the police, and they’ll get them out right away. Of course, we could really be jumping the gun, but...”
Abby gave Roger a kiss on the head. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
He nodded. He still looked as if he’d been hit by a brick.
Malachi took her arm and they walked down the length of the riverfront to the parking area.
“Do you actually think she’s been taken?” Abby asked.
Malachi pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s just blowing him off, but we can’t risk it. We’ll stop by the bed-and-breakfast first and then go back to the hospital to talk to Helen. We’ll see if we can get some kind of clue from her. Do you know the woman who’s taken over the Hayden house? Shelly, he said her name was.”
“Yeah, Gus knew everyone in town. Shelly actually lived up in Charleston. I hadn’t heard that she’d turned the house into a bed-and-breakfast but I’m not surprised. It’s a big old colonial and they put in a pool about ten years back.”
“Tell me where to go.”
Malachi was driving. He had a good grasp of the city’s grid layout, with the squares bordered by streets.
When he’d parked, Abby ran up the walk. The front door was open; she went in. The Hayden house had a broad foyer with a staircase that went straight up to a second-floor balcony. Shelly had set up a reception desk in the foyer.
“Hey, Abby!” Shelly smiled as she greeted her. She came around the desk to give her a big hug. They didn’t know each other that well, since Shelly was about five years older than Abby. But whenever she’d been in town, they’d seen each other often enough. Slim and attractive, she must have made a complete aboutface in her life because she’d worked in Charleston as a graphic designer.
“Shelly, it’s good to see you,” Abby said, returning the hug.
“Congratulations, Agent Anderson. I understand you’re full-fledged now.”
“More or less,” Abby said. Malachi was behind her by then. She saw Shelly’s eyes widen as she looked at him and then at her. She wondered how she hadn’t realized from the beginning what she clearly saw now—he was an extremely attractive and arresting man. Other women seemed to respond to him instinctively.
Of course, she was doing that herself.
She gave herself a mental shake. Whatever private relationships they had, she couldn’t forget her position, her chosen vocation and what they were here to do.
“Hi,” Shelly said to Malachi. “You two are together?” She evidently approved.
“Shelly Hayden, Malachi Gordon. He’s a private investigator and a consultant with the FBI,” Abby explained. “We’re here because one of your guests didn’t show up for a lunch appointment, and we want to be sure she’s all right.”
“Oh. Oh!” Shelly said. “Which guest? Oh, it has to be Bianca Salzburg. She’s registered, and then I have two retired couples and a family of four. She was fine this morning. I made quiches for breakfast and she was so sweet, really loved them. She was cheerful when she left here.”
“When was that?” Malachi asked.
“About eleven,” Shelly told him.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No, and I’m afraid I don’t grill people when they leave,” Shelly said. “Sometimes they ask me about a tour or a carriage ride—but if they’re going out for the day, well, I don’t feel it’s my place to ask questions.”
“Were your other guests down here when she had breakfast?” Malachi asked next.
“Yes, the Mortons were sitting with her at one of the tables on the patio. I serve breakfast outside by the pool when I can.”
“Are they still here?” Abby asked.
“Out by the pool.”
“May I?” Abby gestured, indicating that she wanted to walk through.
“Of course,” Shelly followed Malachi as he kept pace with Abby. “I heard they found the girl who was working for Dirk on his Black Swan. Do you think Bianca might have been...kidnapped and assaulted by the same man? Or...I mean, it’s just been a few hours. Can she really be missing?” She sounded both puzzled and concerned.
“We’re not taking chances,” Malachi said.
“This is so distressing!” Shelly murmured.
The Mortons were a handsome couple in their late sixties or early seventies, who both looked fit and tan. Abby envied them for a minute. They appeared to be the kind of people who’d worked hard, raised their children —and survived to enjoy their golden years together.
