“But I’m just starting.”
“Let me know if you turn anything up.”
I had used up most of the forty-five minutes and I didn’t want to keep him. I thanked him for his time and asked if he minded if I talked to the members of the drama club. That was all right with him, so we shook hands and I found my way back through the auditorium to the main office. The woman behind the high counter had a couple of sheets of paper for me, which I tucked in my bag. Then I went home and started making calls.
Because the three teams hunted in a staggered order, team three should have arrived at the Platts’ first andteam one last. I started calling names on the team one list first, trying to find a parent at home. On the third try a woman answered.
“Mrs. Powell, this is Chris Brooks here in town. I’d like to ask you about your daughter’s participation in the drama club treasure hunt last Saturday.”
“What’s your question?” she asked, sounding a little defensive.
“Who drove the car for Ronnie’s team?”
“Ronnie did. She drove my car. It’s a van. She’s seventeen and it was daylight.”
“I would just like to know who was in the car with her.”
“I don’t remember how they divided up. She’ll be home from school by four. Would you like her to call you?”
I said I would and gave her the number. It was only a quarter after two, and whether Eddie was awake or asleep, I didn’t have to rush back to get him. I went out to the car and drove to the apartment complex where Roger Platt lived. I parked near what appeared to be a central entrance and went in to look at the mailboxes. There were four buildings altogether but I didn’t know which one I had seen Roger walk into, so I went through all the names. There was no Platt anywhere, no Roger as a first name. This man was certainly trying very hard to keep his whereabouts a secret. It occurred to me that he might not even receive mail at this address. People who didn’t know he lived here would write to him at his wife’s house. Others might be directed to a P.O. box, possibly with a fictitious name or even none at all.
I was about to leave when a man in work clothes came out of the lobby.
“Help you?” he said.
“I’m looking for Mr. Platt.”
“Platt? No one here by that name.”
“He lives over in that section.” I pointed.
“Sorry. Better check the address.”
“He’s about six feet tall, nice looking, late forties.”
“Sorry, miss. I can’t help you.” To emphasize that that was it, he walked away.
I went back to my car and drove to Elsie’s.
I knew Jack would get the highlights of the autopsy report from someone at the Oakwood Police Department. He had a good relationship with them, and that was information they would be much more likely to give him than to give me. I assumed the autopsy would be today, so it was possible he might know something when he came home, but I didn’t want to ask him at work. I took Eddie home and waited for a phone call from Ronnie Powell.
It came at four-fifteen. “Mrs. Brooks?”
“Yes. Is this Ronnie?”
“Yes. My mom said you called?”
“I wanted to ask you some questions about the treasure hunt on Saturday.”
“That was so terrible, what happened. We didn’t hear about it till later. That poor man.”
“Ronnie, how many people did you drive to the Platts’?”
“Just four. There were five on team one and five on team two, but Robby McPhail didn’t come in time so we went without him.”
I looked at my list and checked the name. “Did he come later?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t in my car anyway. We waited five extra minutes and then Mr. Jovine said to get started.”
“Have you seen him since Saturday?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“Was he in school today?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t have any classes together. I only know him from acting.”
“Who were the other people in your car?”
“Karen, Steve, and Missie Carter.”
Those were the
“Let me know if you turn anything up.”
I had used up most of the forty-five minutes and I didn’t want to keep him. I thanked him for his time and asked if he minded if I talked to the members of the drama club. That was all right with him, so we shook hands and I found my way back through the auditorium to the main office. The woman behind the high counter had a couple of sheets of paper for me, which I tucked in my bag. Then I went home and started making calls.
Because the three teams hunted in a staggered order, team three should have arrived at the Platts’ first andteam one last. I started calling names on the team one list first, trying to find a parent at home. On the third try a woman answered.
“Mrs. Powell, this is Chris Brooks here in town. I’d like to ask you about your daughter’s participation in the drama club treasure hunt last Saturday.”
“What’s your question?” she asked, sounding a little defensive.
“Who drove the car for Ronnie’s team?”
“Ronnie did. She drove my car. It’s a van. She’s seventeen and it was daylight.”
“I would just like to know who was in the car with her.”
“I don’t remember how they divided up. She’ll be home from school by four. Would you like her to call you?”
I said I would and gave her the number. It was only a quarter after two, and whether Eddie was awake or asleep, I didn’t have to rush back to get him. I went out to the car and drove to the apartment complex where Roger Platt lived. I parked near what appeared to be a central entrance and went in to look at the mailboxes. There were four buildings altogether but I didn’t know which one I had seen Roger walk into, so I went through all the names. There was no Platt anywhere, no Roger as a first name. This man was certainly trying very hard to keep his whereabouts a secret. It occurred to me that he might not even receive mail at this address. People who didn’t know he lived here would write to him at his wife’s house. Others might be directed to a P.O. box, possibly with a fictitious name or even none at all.
I was about to leave when a man in work clothes came out of the lobby.
“Help you?” he said.
“I’m looking for Mr. Platt.”
“Platt? No one here by that name.”
“He lives over in that section.” I pointed.
“Sorry. Better check the address.”
“He’s about six feet tall, nice looking, late forties.”
“Sorry, miss. I can’t help you.” To emphasize that that was it, he walked away.
I went back to my car and drove to Elsie’s.
I knew Jack would get the highlights of the autopsy report from someone at the Oakwood Police Department. He had a good relationship with them, and that was information they would be much more likely to give him than to give me. I assumed the autopsy would be today, so it was possible he might know something when he came home, but I didn’t want to ask him at work. I took Eddie home and waited for a phone call from Ronnie Powell.
It came at four-fifteen. “Mrs. Brooks?”
“Yes. Is this Ronnie?”
“Yes. My mom said you called?”
“I wanted to ask you some questions about the treasure hunt on Saturday.”
“That was so terrible, what happened. We didn’t hear about it till later. That poor man.”
“Ronnie, how many people did you drive to the Platts’?”
“Just four. There were five on team one and five on team two, but Robby McPhail didn’t come in time so we went without him.”
I looked at my list and checked the name. “Did he come later?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t in my car anyway. We waited five extra minutes and then Mr. Jovine said to get started.”
“Have you seen him since Saturday?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“Was he in school today?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t have any classes together. I only know him from acting.”
“Who were the other people in your car?”
“Karen, Steve, and Missie Carter.”
Those were the
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