and I’d better not have plans to leave town. He took Milkova and left, with a heavy stomping of shoes on the stairs.
As soon as they were gone, Mr. Contreras started to fret about “what trouble you got Peewee into now.”
I put my arms around him. “Don’t start on me, darlin’, it was a late night with a lot of worry involved. Shoe’s on the other foot, anyway.” I gave him the unedited version of last night’s events.
At the end, although he wouldn’t admit he’d misjudged me, he did say Petra was lucky she had me to turn to in a crisis. And he offered to make me breakfast.
While Mr. Contreras happily puttered around his hot kitchen, frying up French toast, I called Petra to warn her that the police wanted to talk to her.
“Call your boss at Malina today . . . Yes, I know it’s Sunday, but call her as soon as we hang up: the one crime that bosses don’t forgive is being the last to hear bad news from their staff. So far, no one has ID’d the two Malina girls. If anyone asks you, don’t volunteer Beata and Kira’s last names—if their moms have immigration issues, you could get them in hot water. Maybe your boss can get the foundation’s lawyer to help you with your police interview, because you shouldn’t go into it naked.”
“Gosh, Vic, this is really scary.” Petra’s voice was subdued.
“We’ll figure it out together, babe. Do you know if your other kids made it home? I just got up and I’ve had the police here, so I haven’t made any calls.”
Petra had gotten texts from the girls but hadn’t spoken to any of their parents. “See, I only have the girls’ cell phones on my cell. The moms’ numbers are at the office, but maybe I should have my boss call them?”
By tomorrow, the parents would likely all be calling the foundation, screeching about their kids’ safety. I didn’t want to add to Petra’s fears by saying that, so I merely reiterated my advice that she call her boss as soon as possible. “Today, kiddo. Where’s Tyler, by the way?”
“I just dropped her off about ten minutes ago. Gosh, her dad is a creep. I told them I was driving Tyler home because I was chauffeuring some of the girls from the book club, and I hoped Tyler would join. She and her mom squeaked and said, oh, only if Daddy thought it was a good idea. He made my skin crawl, the way he was looking at them and me. A total reptile.”
When I’d finished with Petra and eaten my breakfast, I set out for the cemetery. Mr. Contreras and the dogs came along to help look for Kira Dudek’s phone. There was police tape across the gate, and a patrol car nearby, but we walked on up Leavitt until we were out of surveillance range and found a gap in the fence big enough that Mr. Contreras didn’t have to crawl to get through it.
The slab where Wuchnik had died was covered with a tarp to protect any evidence in case the techs decided to revisit the scene, but there weren’t any officers around. We searched the square where the girls had been dancing and didn’t see the phone. Of course, if Kira had dropped it there, the evidence techs would have picked it up, but in that case, Sergeant Anstey would have been able to get her last name from the phone company.
I’d try to retrace the path the girls and I had followed to the wall. I took off one of my sandals and held it under Mitch’s nose. “Find the scent, boy, find the scent.”
Mitch roared off happily into the overgrown bushes after a rabbit or a snake—certainly not after my scent—with Peppy in pursuit. However, I didn’t need a bloodhound to discover last night’s route. I followed the trail of lost scrunchies, dropped water bottles, even a rain jacket—the evidence techs hadn’t gone very far from the crime scene. I got all the way to the wall without finding a phone, so I hoisted myself up the crumbling brickwork and jumped off on the other side. Mr. Contreras protested mightily, mostly because he couldn’t follow me.
I walked all the
As soon as they were gone, Mr. Contreras started to fret about “what trouble you got Peewee into now.”
I put my arms around him. “Don’t start on me, darlin’, it was a late night with a lot of worry involved. Shoe’s on the other foot, anyway.” I gave him the unedited version of last night’s events.
At the end, although he wouldn’t admit he’d misjudged me, he did say Petra was lucky she had me to turn to in a crisis. And he offered to make me breakfast.
While Mr. Contreras happily puttered around his hot kitchen, frying up French toast, I called Petra to warn her that the police wanted to talk to her.
“Call your boss at Malina today . . . Yes, I know it’s Sunday, but call her as soon as we hang up: the one crime that bosses don’t forgive is being the last to hear bad news from their staff. So far, no one has ID’d the two Malina girls. If anyone asks you, don’t volunteer Beata and Kira’s last names—if their moms have immigration issues, you could get them in hot water. Maybe your boss can get the foundation’s lawyer to help you with your police interview, because you shouldn’t go into it naked.”
“Gosh, Vic, this is really scary.” Petra’s voice was subdued.
“We’ll figure it out together, babe. Do you know if your other kids made it home? I just got up and I’ve had the police here, so I haven’t made any calls.”
Petra had gotten texts from the girls but hadn’t spoken to any of their parents. “See, I only have the girls’ cell phones on my cell. The moms’ numbers are at the office, but maybe I should have my boss call them?”
By tomorrow, the parents would likely all be calling the foundation, screeching about their kids’ safety. I didn’t want to add to Petra’s fears by saying that, so I merely reiterated my advice that she call her boss as soon as possible. “Today, kiddo. Where’s Tyler, by the way?”
“I just dropped her off about ten minutes ago. Gosh, her dad is a creep. I told them I was driving Tyler home because I was chauffeuring some of the girls from the book club, and I hoped Tyler would join. She and her mom squeaked and said, oh, only if Daddy thought it was a good idea. He made my skin crawl, the way he was looking at them and me. A total reptile.”
When I’d finished with Petra and eaten my breakfast, I set out for the cemetery. Mr. Contreras and the dogs came along to help look for Kira Dudek’s phone. There was police tape across the gate, and a patrol car nearby, but we walked on up Leavitt until we were out of surveillance range and found a gap in the fence big enough that Mr. Contreras didn’t have to crawl to get through it.
The slab where Wuchnik had died was covered with a tarp to protect any evidence in case the techs decided to revisit the scene, but there weren’t any officers around. We searched the square where the girls had been dancing and didn’t see the phone. Of course, if Kira had dropped it there, the evidence techs would have picked it up, but in that case, Sergeant Anstey would have been able to get her last name from the phone company.
I’d try to retrace the path the girls and I had followed to the wall. I took off one of my sandals and held it under Mitch’s nose. “Find the scent, boy, find the scent.”
Mitch roared off happily into the overgrown bushes after a rabbit or a snake—certainly not after my scent—with Peppy in pursuit. However, I didn’t need a bloodhound to discover last night’s route. I followed the trail of lost scrunchies, dropped water bottles, even a rain jacket—the evidence techs hadn’t gone very far from the crime scene. I got all the way to the wall without finding a phone, so I hoisted myself up the crumbling brickwork and jumped off on the other side. Mr. Contreras protested mightily, mostly because he couldn’t follow me.
I walked all the
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