Brian Freeman - The Cold Nowhere

Bowen opened the lunch bag and took out a juice box. She stuck in a straw and sucked up apple juice, making dimples on her cheeks. Some of the juice spilled onto the table when she put the carton down.

‘Look, these guys are my colleagues. I have to work with them. I’m not the kind to go running to a lawyer if things get rowdy. I don’t want it getting back to them — or to Lenny — that I’m raining on their parade, you know?’

‘We’ll try to keep your name out of it,’ Serena said.

‘Okay. Fine. Yeah, of course, there were girls. There are always girls. Everybody knows what to expect at the winners’ party. That’s why I make a discreet exit every year before the action starts.’

‘Does Lenny know about it? Does he set it up?’

Bowen squeezed her lips together. ‘I have no idea. I saw him leave early. Okay? For all I know, this is something the boys cooked up on their own.’

‘Hard to imagine anything happening at Lenny’s party that Lenny doesn’t know about,’ Stride said.

Bowen said nothing, but her eyebrows twitched upward slightly, as if to say: No kidding .

Serena leaned forward with her elbows on the table. ‘Phyllis, did Margot ask questions about any of this? Did she talk to you about Lenny paying for prostitutes?’

Bowen played with the straw on her juice box. She craned her neck to watch the mall crowds, but she still said nothing.

‘Margot disappeared right after she bought that truck,’ Serena said.

‘You think I want to risk disappearing too?’ Bowen snapped.

‘Are you scared? Did Lenny threaten you?’

The saleswoman exhaled in disgust. ‘Let’s just say that Lenny had the same questions you did. He wanted to know what Margot said to me. I told him what I told you. She bought a new Explorer. We talked about gas mileage and air bags and towing capacity. That’s all. Why would she talk to me? She knew she was going to see Lenny.’

‘She did?’

‘You buy a car, you talk to Lenny. That’s the way it works. Margot said she was really looking forward to meeting him.’

‘So she knew that walking in the door?’ Serena asked.

‘Oh, yeah. It was one of the first things she said. She wanted to make sure Lenny was around that day.’

Serena and Stride shared a glance.

‘What did Lenny say when the news broke about Margot’s disappearance?’ Serena went on. ‘It must have come up between you.’

Bowen hesitated. ‘He made a joke.’

‘What joke?’

‘He said, who would kidnap a woman like Margot and leave behind that great truck?’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it,’ she said.

Serena shook her head. ‘I feel like you’re not telling us everything, Phyllis.’

Bowen looked frustrated. ‘It’s gossip. It’s no big deal.’

‘What is?’ Serena asked.

‘Margot made an off-hand comment. That’s all. It’s nothing. I didn’t tell Lenny about it.’

‘What did she say?’

‘We were closing the deal, and she said something about seeing Lenny at a restaurant with a girl who looked like she was straight out of a college dorm. She made a crack like, “I guess he can afford the best.”’

‘Did you say anything back?’

Bowen frowned. ‘It was stupid. I wish I hadn’t said anything at all.’

‘What did you say?’ Serena repeated.

‘I laughed. I said, “Yeah, the younger, the better.”’

Maggie parked her Avalanche in front of the Seaway Hotel.

She hopped down and spotted an old man who went by the nickname Tugtug in a lawn chair pushed against the building wall. He had a coffee can between his legs and a sheepskin throw wrapped around his shoulders. Tugtug, who was blind, wore wraparound sunglasses and a camouflage bandana, and his scraggly hair and beard were snow white. He spent half his life at the Seaway and the other half outside City Hall, begging for handouts in both places.

‘Afternoon, Sergeant,’ Tugtug greeted her cheerfully. ‘How’s The World’s Smallest Policewoman this afternoon?’

‘You know, Tugtug, you say you’re blind, so how come you always know it’s me?’

Tugtug pointed at her truck by the curb. ‘I know that engine. You’re like some kind of crazy-ass NASCAR driver. One of these days, you might think about braking before you actually get where you’re going. I hear other drivers appreciate it.’

‘Uh huh. So how are you? Been a while since I’ve seen you.’

‘Been even longer since I seen you,’ Tugtug replied.

‘Well, I walked into that one. You warm enough? It’s almost dark.’

‘Yeah, manager says I can slip into one of the empty rooms tonight.’

‘How’s the coffee can business?’

‘A little slow, since you asked.’

‘How about one of my coupons?’

‘That would be much appreciated.’

Maggie reached into her jacket pocket. She didn’t give cash to beggars, because she knew it went straight into drugs and liquor bottles. Instead, she’d set up an account with a local diner, and she printed up special coupons for free meals that she passed out to the homeless around the city. Each month, the restaurant billed her. It was a private thing; she hadn’t even told Stride about it. She dropped a coupon in his coffee can, and Tugtug gave her a brown-toothed smile.

Nobody knew where he got the nickname. He claimed not to remember himself.

‘What brings you to our little Showplace by the Shore, Sergeant? I haven’t smelled any dead bodies lately. Nothing but the usual puke, weed, piss, and BO.’

‘Actually, I’m looking for Dory Mateo,’ Maggie said. ‘You know her?’

‘I do, but you won’t find her here.’

Maggie looked at him in surprise, but Tugtug was more reliable than a Garmin. ‘No?’

‘No, I heard her whiz by me this morning. Breathing hard. She ran toward the bank and kept running. She ain’t been back.’

‘You’re sure it was Dory?’

Tugtug cocked his head, as if the question were an insult.

‘She say anything to you?’ Maggie asked.

‘Not a word, and Dory usually has a couple coins for the coffee can, too. Not today.’

‘Was anyone asking about her?’

‘Just you.’

‘How about strangers coming or going?’

‘Well, it’s not like visitors generally introduce themselves. One gentleman left in a hurry. Couldn’t have been more than five minutes after Dory hightailed it. I said hello, but he didn’t say anything back.’

‘Do you remember anything about him?’

‘He smell a bit like de islands.’

‘What?’

Tugtug put a finger on the side of his nose. ‘I caught a whiff of coconut.’

Maggie laughed. ‘Well, you’ll catch a whiff from me, too, but that’s Hawaiian Tropic shampoo, not Jamaica, mon . Anything more specific?’

‘Sorry. I pay more attention to the ones that fill my coffee can.’

‘Okay, thanks, Tugtug. See you around.’

‘Wish I could say the same, Sergeant,’ he replied.

‘Damn, I walked into it again.’

Maggie headed into the Seaway lobby and jogged up the stairs to the second floor. If Tugtug said Dory wasn’t there, then Dory wasn’t there, but she wanted to check anyway. The hallway was empty, but she heard noises behind the doors. Loud television. Shouting matches. Sex. She’d always thought of this place as a crossroads for desperate lives, and it didn’t surprise her at all that Dory had wound up here.

She remembered seeing Dory shortly before Michaela was killed. Dory was still no more than twenty years old then, living in a garage apartment in a house owned by friends of Brooke’s parents. Somewhere, Dory had gotten money for a new stash of drugs, and she’d snorted until she was nearly catatonic, with blood running from both nostrils.