“No, no, of course not.” Lakin let out a huff. “I’m just frustrated that you made some headway while I ended up chasing my tail for most of yesterday.”
“Oh.” My scowl softened into a more sympathetic expression. “None of your interviews panned out?”
“Not a one so far.” Lakin shook his head. “Sillara’s partner told me that she’d come home to find her door unlocked not long after Sillara’s death, but she hadn’t noticed anything missing so she figured she’d just forgotten to lock up when she’d left. None of the families I’ve interviewed so far have told me anything helpful, and several of the missing shifters had moved to Solantha from outside Canalo. Their families, if any, will be hard to track down.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll get something helpful now. Why don’t you make that phone call?”
Lakin picked up the phone, then dialed the number on the piece of paper. We listened to the shrill ring tone for a couple of seconds, and then a receptionist answered in a cheery voice. Lakin asked for Borin Tate, the advertising rep Faron said had made the call.
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said after a moment. “But there is no Borin Tate in the company register.”
“There isn’t?” Lakin scowled. “How long has he been gone?”
“To my knowledge no one by that name has never worked here.” The receptionist paused. “Is there someone else I can direct your call to?”
Lakin sighed in disgust. “Your current advertising representative would be a good start.”
“One moment please.”
Lakin gave me a look as the receptionist transferred him. “This isn’t going well so far,” he muttered.
“Yeah well, let’s see what this guy has to say.” But I bit my lip, privately agreeing with him.
“Hello, this is Wilam Randor,” a male answered. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, hello.” Lakin’s voice was smooth and professional. “My name is Inspector Lakin, and I’m calling from Solantha’s Shiftertown regarding an investigation. Do you have a moment?”
“Certainly.” The man sounded surprised, but polite. “How can I be of assistance?”
“It’s come to my attention that your company recently threatened to pull their advertising dollars from the Shifter Courier. Is this true?”
“Why no,” the man insisted. “The Shifter Courier brings us a significant amount of business each year. I wouldn’t think to do such a thing.”
“I see. And how long have you been employed in your current position?”
“Three years.”
“Okay. Have you ever used a temp, such as on sick leave or vacation, in the past year?”
“Oh no,” the man said emphatically. “Whenever I take time off my supervisor takes over for me. We don’t trust that kind of thing to temporary employees.”
“Alright. Thank you very much for your time.”
Lakin hung up the phone, then glared at the receiver. “Another dead end.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped. If the person who’d made the phone call wasn’t an employee of the company, there was no way for us to track them down. The incident had happened far too long ago, in any case.
“Oh wait. There’s one more thing.” I dug out the other piece of paper Faron had given me and gave it to Lakin. “The Chief Editor also told me that one of his reporters, the one who would normally be in charge of writing up the disappearances, has disappeared himself recently.”
“Huh.” Lakin’s eyes lit with interest as he stared down at the address. “Say, that house is right up the street from here, a few blocks away. What do you say we check it out now?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Lakin donned his leather coat, and we walked over to Nevin’s house, leaving our steambikes parked outside Lakin’s residence. Like Lakin’s house, it was a small, one story dwelling, but unlike Lakin’s place there was a distinct air of neglect hanging about it. The grass on the front yard was nearly a foot high, the planters were empty of flowers, and there was the faintest whiff of rotting garbage.
“Ugh.” I pinched my nose as we approached the front door, the smell getting stronger. “How has no one come to investigate by now? This whole block is full of shifters. Surely they would have come over to complain about this stench.”
Lakin shrugged. “The smell’s not too bad from the street. He probably wasn’t incredibly friendly with his neighbors, and nobody cared enough about the smell to bother with it.”
“Yeah, well looks like garbage wasn’t his only problem.” I looked over at the overflowing mailbox hanging from the exterior wall to the left of the door. Grabbing a few letters, I noticed they were postmarked from the end of April. “I get the feeling the postman stopped delivering weeks ago .”