“Did you have a chance to check with Rufus Manning about that photo he took?” I pressed. “He was supposed to look up the names of the couple.”
“Hold for a sec,” he said, covering the phone as he spoke to someone in the background. I waited patiently, watching out the car window, until he came back online, his voice much lower than before. “Sorry. What were you asking me?”
“About Rufus. Have you been able to contact him?”
“No one’s been able to reach him by phone yet, but I’ll keep trying. I’d send a guy over, but truth is, my sergeant caught wind of how much time I’ve been putting into this case and he’s not happy.”
Uh-oh. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yeah. But he’ll get over it. Eventually.”
“But you’ll still try to track down the fiancée, right? I mean, it’s got to be her, Sean. You can find her with the license number, right?”
“I’ll do what I can to locate her and bring her in for questioning. You know that. Right now, though, I’ve gotta run. It’s nuts around here today and I just got called out on another case. I’ll call you later and let you know if we find out anything.”
If they find out anything, I thought. It didn’t sound very promising, but I could understand Sean’s dilemma. According to his superiors, this case was already wrapped up. Unfortunately, there was never a shortage of crime and Sean’s desk was always overflowing with cases, so it was only natural that this would fall to the bottom of his priority list. If only I could have been able to find out the woman’s name. Still, I did confirm that she was Chuck’s fiancée, so that was something. I flipped over my phone and checked the display again. Still no call from Rufus. That was strange. I did a quick Google search on my phone and found his office number again. But once again, my call went straight to an answering service. I kicked myself for not getting his cell number. I hated to wait until the expo to find out the fiancée’s name. Who knew how important the information might be to Jodi’s case. I glanced at my watch. I still had a few hours before I was due at the Arts Center—plenty of time to run by the photography studio and see if I could connect with Rufus. That way, I could save Sean the extra manpower—and any more trouble with his sergeant.
“Trey, would you mind if I used your car to run a couple of errands? I could get it back to you this afternoon.” Certainly one of the other agents would follow me back to the restaurant later so I could return Trey’s car.
Trey glanced at his dash. “Sure, but I’m getting a little low on gas.” He downshifted and turned off High Street, headed toward Machiavelli’s.
“Again? I just put gas in yesterday.” I chuckled and this time didn’t refrain from reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Okay, buddy. I get it. I’ll top off the tank for you, okay?” I’d sure been putting a lot of money into his tank lately. “But don’t you be forgetting about that tuition money you owe me,” I added, thinking I’d better keep reminding him or I might never see that money again.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll pay you back. You have my word.” His chin jutted out with determination. “I’m doing well at work. Oscar says I show promise.”
Promise? Promise was a solid four-year degree and a distinct career path . . . I stopped myself, thinking back to what Pam had said about following her passion to write mysteries and how I’d followed my own passion and become a literary agent, how Dr. Meyers’s passion had led to a career of helping desperate women and families. Certainly Trey deserved the same opportunity. He’d either sink or swim. Besides, he was young yet, so if he was going to try something like this, it was better now than down the line when he had a family to support. “I’m sure you do show promise,” I started, trying to be positive. “You’ve always been a good cook. You get that from your nana.”
He pulled up to Machiavelli’s and put the car in gear. “Yeah. I hear stuff like that always skips a generation.” He grinned and hopped out, waving over his shoulder as he sauntered into the restaurant.
*