She’d called the number for the Burkeys from Elias Mamet’s list as soon as she’d left the interview with Kitsy Hasseldorn. No answer. She’d called again a few hours later and the same thing: no answer. The Burkeys weren’t getting back to her and she could find no separate listing for Thomas Burkey.
After that she’d phoned the landlord again, but Mamet was as unhelpful as ever. Though his rental house was only a few doors from the Singletons’ and had been for years, he swore he didn’t know much about them. He also didn’t remember anything about a tenant with an RV, and he brushed aside the horse by saying that a number of tenants had a horse or two. It was one of the draws of his rental.
Mamet’s records were as lousy as his attitude, but September had managed to winnow the long list he’d given her down to four names that could possibly belong to the family of the kid with the addiction problem. She’d called Mamet again later, trying to jog his memory on the four names, but his responses had devolved to gruff yes and no answers, except for his assurance that he didn’t really like police officers of any kind.
Now she was going over the four names of families who had rented the Mamet place. None of them were anything that sounded like shoe, as Kitsy had recalled, and only a couple of them had answered her calls or returned them. Of the two who had, most had some recollection of Tommy Burkey, but the kid with the addiction problem rang no bells, most likely because she hadn’t connected with the boy’s family yet. The whole process was like moving through molasses, slow, slow, slow, but that was the nature of police work.
After their talk with Kitsy Hasseldorn, September and Gretchen had been called to a domestic disturbance that ended in death. The wife had hit the husband with a frying pan filled with chicken Marengo, which had burned him and sent him to the hospital. What had killed him was the heart attack that followed this altercation, and the wife was so distraught and disbelieving, it was pretty clear she hadn’t mean to kill him. The case was now in the hands of the DA, who could decide whether to pursue it further. Afterward, it was time to go home, but September had wanted to pick up where she’d left off on the Aurora Lane case today, on the weekend, and here she was.
She put in one more call to the Burkeys, preparing herself for yet another voice message when, to her surprise, the line was answered by a suspicious male, who asked, “Who is this?”
“I’m Detective September Rafferty,” she began, but he cut her off.
“You’ve been leaving messages.”
“Yes, I have. Is this . . .” She’d been going to say Douglas, Mr. Burkey’s name, but changed her mind and asked, “Tommy?”
His intake of air told her a lot. “What do you want?”
“Like I said, I’m just looking for information about a boy who lived on Aurora Lane who—”
“You gonna arrest him for drugs?”
September trod carefully. “Well, no. I just want to talk to him.”
“Why don’t you call his mom and dad?”
“I don’t know their names, Tommy. What’s your friend’s name?”
“He’s not my friend. He wasn’t nice to me.”
“What do you call him?”
“Laser.”
“Laser? Is that his first name or last name?”
“It’s just his name. He’s got laser eyes, y’know?” There was the sound of a sharp female voice and Tommy’s took on an aggrieved note as he said, “I was just talking to her! She wants to know about Laser!”
“Hang up,” the woman ordered.
“Well, geez!” Tommy said, at the same moment September cried, “No, wait!”
The phone cut out.
“Damn it,” she murmured, but she was elated she’d at least gotten some information.
She glanced down the list of four names: the Kirkendalls, Wrights, Pattens, and Brannigans. She’d called them all to no avail, so she phoned the Myleses again. Hannah answered while a baby babbled loudly. The conversation was short. Of course Hannah Myles was too new to the family and Aurora Lane to offer up any information, and her husband and father-in-law weren’t available.
“Story of my life,” September said after hanging up. Frustrated, she tapped her fingers on the phone, feeling as if she were running around in circles, getting no-damned-where. She considered chasing down Tynan again, but she felt he’d told her everything he was going to.
“Damn, damn, and double damn.” She leaned back in her chair and her thoughts turned back to Grace. The older woman’s recollections couldn’t be trusted, but there were kernels of information there that came out that were almost easier to decipher than the roadblocks the other Myleses seemed to want to erect.
And Maple Grove Assisted Living wasn’t all that far away.
What would it hurt to try to talk to the old woman again?
Grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, she headed out. This time she’d just flash her badge and bully her way in to see Grace, even if it brought the staff and all the other Myleses down on her. To hell with it. She was sick of pussyfooting around. She wanted answers.