Wicked Witch of the West—wart on nose and all. Hey, my hand went where my attitude told it to go. And I was not in a benevolent mood.
Then inspiration struck—just like in the movies. Can’t say cartoons because I forgot to look for the light bulb. We lived in a world of instant communications. I grabbed my phone and, after fumbling though my old address book, dialed.
“Dallas Police Department, Jake Gibbons.”
“Jake. It’s Beth, Beth Bowman. You still celebrating your divorce by bedding every female in sight?”
That launched a series of raunchy give and takes that told me Jake was still my friend. That was iffy for a while after he caught Sonny-the-Bunny with his wife. But the judge gave Jake freedom, and he swore my ex did him a favor—got him out of a bad marriage without alimony.
ten
I eased into my problem, asking if Jake could create a police sketch for me. My idea was I’d feed him the description and he’d compose, then email the picture to me. I could view and offer corrections until his talent had drawn the perfect picture of Ms. Garcia.
“Sure, Beth, but not here. I don’t think the Captain would appreciate my spending Dallas dollars to help you. Look, I’m off duty in an hour. I’ll call when I get home. In the meantime, jot down everything you remember. Be as specific as you can.”
“I know, Jake. Been there. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. But don’t think I’m doing this pro bono. You owe me.”
“What do you mean? You not getting enough?”
“Hey, easy there. You’re not keeping up. I’m a happy newlywed and plan to stay that way, so get your mind out of my bedroom. You won’t get that lucky.”
“Lucky? Ho, ho. Your bride must really know how to bolster your ego.”
“Yes, something you might want to learn—how to please a man.”
“I give up. How can I repay you?”
His chuckle told me he enjoyed the win. Fine with me as long as he did my sketch.
“Next time you’re in Dallas, I know a great steakhouse with a two-pound porterhouse on the menu. You’re buying—one for me and one for Julie.”
“You’re on and congratulations on your marriage. Is Julie her name? When did it happen?” A memory kicked in. “Julie? Not the cute redhead from records that could have any guy in the department?”
“Yep, that’s her. And she only had eyes for one man—me.” Minutes passed while Jake gave me a detailed description of his new wife and how happy he was. I oohed and aahed with his every word. Then we terminated the call so he could split for home and I could follow his advice. I spent the next hour recording every little thing I could remember about Ms. Garcia’s appearance. This time, I omitted the wart.
True to his word, Jake called an hour later. Well, actually seventy minutes, but I was in a generous mood. We spent a half hour on the phone—me talking and him sketching and asking an occasional question. Fifteen minutes after that, I had a likeness of Ms. Garcia, or a woman who could have been a distant relative. I got Jake back on the phone, and we refined his drawing. After four attempts, I was satisfied with his work. I had a picture of Ms. Garcia that was close enough to my image of her that I trusted it. Even if it only led me to her sister, I’d have a lead. All I had to do was show it around and let someone tell me who she was and where I could find her.
After thanking Jake and inviting him and Julie to visit me in Florida, I hung up and downloaded the .jpg file. I worked on it in PhotoShop, creating three versions. One was unadorned, the second carried my name and phone number on the bottom with a message to call me if she showed up. On the third, I added a line offering a reward based on the accuracy and depth of information provided. I loaded twenty-five pound paper and instructed the printer to go for fifty copies.
By then, the clock had crawled toward two o’ clock, and I was anxious to get to the mall. The sooner I started canvassing, the sooner
Then inspiration struck—just like in the movies. Can’t say cartoons because I forgot to look for the light bulb. We lived in a world of instant communications. I grabbed my phone and, after fumbling though my old address book, dialed.
“Dallas Police Department, Jake Gibbons.”
“Jake. It’s Beth, Beth Bowman. You still celebrating your divorce by bedding every female in sight?”
That launched a series of raunchy give and takes that told me Jake was still my friend. That was iffy for a while after he caught Sonny-the-Bunny with his wife. But the judge gave Jake freedom, and he swore my ex did him a favor—got him out of a bad marriage without alimony.
ten
I eased into my problem, asking if Jake could create a police sketch for me. My idea was I’d feed him the description and he’d compose, then email the picture to me. I could view and offer corrections until his talent had drawn the perfect picture of Ms. Garcia.
“Sure, Beth, but not here. I don’t think the Captain would appreciate my spending Dallas dollars to help you. Look, I’m off duty in an hour. I’ll call when I get home. In the meantime, jot down everything you remember. Be as specific as you can.”
“I know, Jake. Been there. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. But don’t think I’m doing this pro bono. You owe me.”
“What do you mean? You not getting enough?”
“Hey, easy there. You’re not keeping up. I’m a happy newlywed and plan to stay that way, so get your mind out of my bedroom. You won’t get that lucky.”
“Lucky? Ho, ho. Your bride must really know how to bolster your ego.”
“Yes, something you might want to learn—how to please a man.”
“I give up. How can I repay you?”
His chuckle told me he enjoyed the win. Fine with me as long as he did my sketch.
“Next time you’re in Dallas, I know a great steakhouse with a two-pound porterhouse on the menu. You’re buying—one for me and one for Julie.”
“You’re on and congratulations on your marriage. Is Julie her name? When did it happen?” A memory kicked in. “Julie? Not the cute redhead from records that could have any guy in the department?”
“Yep, that’s her. And she only had eyes for one man—me.” Minutes passed while Jake gave me a detailed description of his new wife and how happy he was. I oohed and aahed with his every word. Then we terminated the call so he could split for home and I could follow his advice. I spent the next hour recording every little thing I could remember about Ms. Garcia’s appearance. This time, I omitted the wart.
True to his word, Jake called an hour later. Well, actually seventy minutes, but I was in a generous mood. We spent a half hour on the phone—me talking and him sketching and asking an occasional question. Fifteen minutes after that, I had a likeness of Ms. Garcia, or a woman who could have been a distant relative. I got Jake back on the phone, and we refined his drawing. After four attempts, I was satisfied with his work. I had a picture of Ms. Garcia that was close enough to my image of her that I trusted it. Even if it only led me to her sister, I’d have a lead. All I had to do was show it around and let someone tell me who she was and where I could find her.
After thanking Jake and inviting him and Julie to visit me in Florida, I hung up and downloaded the .jpg file. I worked on it in PhotoShop, creating three versions. One was unadorned, the second carried my name and phone number on the bottom with a message to call me if she showed up. On the third, I added a line offering a reward based on the accuracy and depth of information provided. I loaded twenty-five pound paper and instructed the printer to go for fifty copies.
By then, the clock had crawled toward two o’ clock, and I was anxious to get to the mall. The sooner I started canvassing, the sooner
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