Page 15

FOURTEEN

Voices come toward the kitchen and I recognize Rebecca’s asking, “Would you like some espresso?”

A man’s deep and loud voice answers, “Sounds perfect.”

I imagine some hulking figure, but when the man walks into the kitchen, he looks more like a smarmy version of Mister Rogers. Instead of the robin’s-egg blue button-up sweater and tennis shoes, this one is wearing a shiny shark-skin suit with fancy Italian-made shoes. Not someone you’d want to be your neighbor.

Rebecca directs him to a seat at the table next to me, and the stench of cigars assails my nose.

“I’ll take mine with four shots, black,” he says. “Do you have any cookies, Miss Marsh?”

“I’ll look while you introduce yourself, Sergeant.” She begins opening each cabinet and drawer. It’s obvious she’s never been in the kitchen without being served. I’m jealous.

“Detective Sergeant Lucas,” he says, and runs his fingers through a hair-gel extravaganza of black hair. Too black. Dyed.

“Megan Carpenter,” I say, and don’t offer to shake the hand he doesn’t offer.

Ronnie smiles at him. “Ronnie Marsh.”

He says, “You look alike.”

No shit, Sherlock. I feel like I have to say something. “They’re sisters. I’m not related.”

He gives me a dismissive look then turns to Rebecca. “Is it okay if I call you Rebecca?”

Rebecca comes back with his espresso and a pack of Lorna Doone cookies. “It would be a lot easier, Sergeant.”

“You can call me Ronnie. That’s Megan.”

He doesn’t acknowledge us. Rebecca sits, and the sergeant’s focus is turned to her. Lucas says without enthusiasm or concern in his voice, “You called about a missing person. Your mom.”

“Yes. And I’ve called a couple of times and was told a report couldn’t be taken until she was missing for forty-eight hours. I tried again today and they said a detective would have to take the report.”

He runs his thin fingers through the gel and wipes it on a napkin. “That’s forty-eight hours for adults unless there are exceptional circumstances. Children are twenty-four hours.” He pops a cookie in his mouth and slurps some espresso. “Why don’t you tell me everything. I’ll make sure someone takes the report. I want to get started on this as soon as possible.”

Or until he runs out of coffee and cookies. I say, “If you brought a missing person form with you, I’ll be happy to fill it out while you talk. Rebecca told us her mom has already been missing since Thursday night. It’s Sunday afternoon now. That’s way over forty-eight hours.”

“But she wasn’t suspected missing until Friday morning, so we’re just over forty-eight, so I’m here. Happy, Ms. Carpenter?”

Again the dismissive look. I size him up. Sixties, close to collecting his pension. A “do what you have to and no more” kind of cop. He’s here because he has to be.

“Detective Carpenter,” I correct.

He nods, as though it had slipped his mind. “That’s right. You two are detectives from… Jefferson County?” He says it with disdain, like his patch is so big-time.

Ronnie shows her credentials but I say nothing. I know what’s coming. He does us the courtesy of asking for details on the case first, though.

Rebecca tells Sergeant Lucas what she told us. He doesn’t take notes. He doesn’t ask questions. I hope we’re not keeping him awake. When she finishes he nods and gets up.

He addresses Ronnie. “You have no authority in Whatcom County. If you’re here to emotionally support your sister, fine. If you’re here to meddle in my business, you need to know I won’t stand for it.” He turns is gaze on me. “Am I making myself clear, ladies?”

Ronnie looks shocked. I’m not shocked. I say, “Yes, we’re detectives. We know we don’t have police authority here. But as private citizens you have no right to tell us what we can or can’t do. We can, and will, ask questions. Am I making myself clear, Sergeant Lucas?”

He waves a dismissive hand at me as if I’m a gnat and turns his attention to Rebecca again. “You should not have called them. It was a mistake I hope you don’t regret.”

Rebecca bristles. “The mistake is you don’t see how valuable their experience is, Sergeant. I called them because your department is doing absolutely nothing. And you don’t appear to be interested either.”

He ignores her anger. “If your mom contacts, you give me a call.” He puts a business card on the table and reaches for another cookie, but I grab the pack. His eyes sparkle. He thinks he’s funny.

Rebecca shows him out. I expect Ronnie to have a meltdown, but she says, “It’s a good thing Rebecca called us. I’m glad you came with me, Megan. And that Rebecca didn’t show Lucas the note.”

“Lucas doesn’t deserve to know what we know,” I say. “He’s going to continue to do nothing. Like Rebecca said, he’s not interested. Call the resort and tell them we’re coming?”

Rebecca comes back in the kitchen. “Roger knows we’ll be coming. I’m coming with you if I may.”

“Of course.” I was going to insist. “I’ll drive.” I want to show off my new ride.