‘I try not to take these things personally. I also try not to let them get in the way of pursuing my inquiries.’
‘Why? You a charitable man? You must be if you like working for nothing.’
‘I just don’t like loose ends. I also don’t like it that a fourteen-year-old girl has gone missing up here, and from the same town in which Lagenheimer now lives.’
‘You think he had something to do with it?’
‘He has an alibi. I think he’s in the clear. It’s Lonny Midas that I’m curious about.’
‘And where are the police in all this?’
‘A request has gone to the North Dakota Attorney General’s Office requesting the information contained in the sealed records pertaining to the imprisonment and subsequent release of Lonny Midas and William Lagenheimer.’
‘So? The AG will oblige by releasing the information, but as you’re not a law-enforcement officer you have no right to it. Will that be all?’
‘Jerry Midas,’ I said.
‘What about him?’
‘You can’t tell me anything about Lonny Midas, but you can tell me how to get in touch with his brother.’
‘And why would I do that, assuming I knew anything about him in the first place?’
‘Because there’s a girl missing, and I want her found as much as the cops do. Look up my name, Sheriff Peck. If you need someone to vouch for me, try Detective Gordon Walsh of the Maine State Police. If you have a pen, I’ll give you his number.’
I wasn’t sure that Walsh would vouch for me, but I figured he owed me for the night before. Even if he didn’t feel any obligation, my interest in Jerry Midas might pique his own interest and I could possibly browbeat him into sharing whatever he discovered.
‘Let me have it,’ said Peck.
I gave him Walsh’s number and my own.
‘Leave it with me,’ he said. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
An hour later I was back in Pastor’s Bay, standing in Hallowed Grounds while the same tattooed barista worked behind the counter, although this time he was wearing a faded Ramones T-shirt and the music playing was a cover version of the Carpenters’ ‘Goodbye to Love’ by American Music Club. I had that tribute album. Hell, I think I even had the original album somewhere.
‘Morning, snitch,’ I said. ‘I saw an old lady jaywalking earlier. I didn’t get her name, but she can’t have got far. Maybe you can call someone and have her picked up.’
He tugged at the massive hole in his left ear created by a circular piercing through the lobe. I could have put my finger through it. It was a tempting image.
‘You get a good look at her?’ he replied. ‘We’ve got a lot of old ladies here. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a miscarriage of justice.’
‘A rat with a conscience. I may yet find it in my heart to forgive you.’
‘Hey, no hard feelings, man. I was just doing what was right.’
‘Yeah, you and Joe McCarthy both. It’s okay. In your position, I might even have done the same. To make up for my discomfort, you can brew me some fresh coffee. That pot smells like you’re stripping bones in it.’
He grinned and gave me the finger: customer service the Maine way.
‘The name is Danny, by the way.’
‘Charlie Parker. Don’t think this makes us friends.’
I leafed through some of the paperbacks on the shelf. A sign described them as ‘Gently Used,’ but there were retired hookers who’d been used more gently than these books. Some of them were old enough to have Caxton’s thumbprints on them.
The front door opened, and Mrs. Shaye entered, her son Patrick ambling amiably behind her. They looked as if they’d dressed for church.
‘Danny, do you have that order of subs ready?’
‘Sure, Mrs. Shaye. I’ll just be a second.’
‘And we’ll need two iced coffees, and as many of those doughnuts as you can fit in a bag.’
Danny set the coffeepot to fill, and sprinted off to do Mrs. Shaye’s bidding.
‘I’m the spare pair of hands,’ Pat said. ‘She made me clean them too.’ He showed them to me as proof.
‘They’re spotless. In parts.’
‘Don’t talk to strange men, Pat,’ said Mrs. Shaye. ‘Mr. Parker, will you be joining us for lunch?’ But she said it with a wry smile.
‘I hope not, Mrs. Shaye. All out of cookies?’
‘I’m working such hours now that I don’t have time to bake them. It’s good news for Danny here. You know that this is his business? Before him, we had to make do with takeouts from the store.’
I raised an eyebrow at Danny, who had just reappeared with a tray of Saran-wrapped subs, and was looking for a bag for the doughnuts.
‘And there he was, telling me that the management didn’t like him to play depressing music.’
‘The management doesn’t,’ said Danny. ‘The fan does, but the manager wants to stay in business.’
Mrs. Shaye handed the tray of subs to Pat, added a half dozen bottles of iced tea to the pile, signed for everything, and took the bag of doughnuts herself. I held the door open for them.
‘Bye, now, Mr. Parker,’ she said. ‘Stay out of trouble.’
‘Good advice,’ said Pat.
I went to the window to watch the world, and I witnessed a peculiar moment. A group of young girls were hanging out near the grocery store. They were probably about fourteen or fifteen years old, and well on the way to becoming striking young women. Unfortunately, they hadn’t reached that stage yet, so I tried to find somewhere else to look.
Chief Allan didn’t seem to have such qualms. He was sitting in his truck on the other side of the street, sipping a soda and taking in the girls’ bodies. One of them had bought a magazine, and they were huddled around it, giggling and pointing. They didn’t notice Allan, but Mrs. Shaye did. I could see her clock him, and the direction of his gaze. As Mrs. Shaye and her son crossed the road, she rousted the girls.
‘Hey, you kids, be about your business. You’re like a brood of hens blocking the path.’
The girls headed east up Main Street. Allan started his truck and moved off. Mrs. Shaye held open the door of the municipal building for her son, her head flicking to follow Allan’s progress before she followed her son inside.
And I wondered how good Mrs. Shaye’s spelling was.
Walsh called me while I was finishing my coffee.
‘I’m your referee now?’ he said. ‘What are you doing, giving my name out to hick sheriffs as your go-to guy?’
‘I hope you said nice things about me.’
‘I just got the message. I haven’t called him back.’
‘I know there’s a “yet” missing from that sentence. You haven’t called him back yet.’
‘I may not call him back ever.’
‘And after all I’ve done for you. How’s your head?’
‘Surprisingly clear and obligation-free. I don’t recall everything about last night, but I do remember telling you that I wasn’t going to let you see those sealed records, and now you go trying your luck with North Dakota. You just don’t know when to quit.’
‘I’m interested in Lonny Midas’s brother. I didn’t think the sealed records were relevant in his case.’
‘You’re looking for the brother because you believe that he might know where Lonny is. Lonny Midas is the subject of those sealed records.’
‘Come on, Walsh, I just want to talk to the brother. If he blows me off, then we’ll have whatever is in the records to go on.’
‘I will have whatever is in the records. You will have nothing.’
I ignored him. ‘And if his brother does know something I’ll share it with you and you’ll be ahead. So either you win or you stay as you were, but you’re not going to lose on the deal. Come on, make the call.’
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Did a waitress threaten me last night?’ he asked.