Page 20 of 3rd Tango
“I have all of them from our local area and some from the bordering states, going back years.” She lays a hand on the top of it. “These are history, Charlie. My news days taught me that. You never know when you might need the information they provide about the past.”
“There’s this thing called the internet,” I say gently, teasing. “You’d be surprised how much information is out there.”
She huffs. “That’s exactly why I’m here, Miss Smarty Pants. There are six hardware stores listed in the Yellow Pages, but most don’t have the same number anymore. The two I was able to connect with don’t have records that old, at least that’s what they told me. But if Gayle used a check or credit card…”
“If he’s a criminal and has been able to outfox law enforcement all these years, I doubt he was careless enough to use any type of traceable payment.”
Mom makes her way into the kitchen to pour a glass of the wine. “I have to follow all leads, no matter how insignificant they may seem. It’s our credo at the CSCC. It always served me when I was at the paper, too.”
It’s not a bad tenet. Seemingly insignificant leads have provided turning points in many cases. “What about the criminals on the most wanted list? Did you finish with those?”
She leans against the counter. “That was a dead end. A total waste of my time. Al and I blew through them in an hour.”
Thank you, Al.Not.
She takes a deep gulp of wine, scans the label on the bottle. “All I need is for you to dig up these other hardware stores and their numbers. They probably simply have new ones. It’s a lead, Charlie. I’m following it.”
I force myself to take a deep breath as I unbuckle the single stiletto still on my foot. I can’t deny her investigative nose, and I have the feeling she needs one of Meg’s pot brownies. Or more of my wine. Either way, it won’t hurt to humor her. “Okay. It won’t take but a minute.”
It suddenly dawns on her that I might have company and she pushes off the counter, looking toward the living room and beyond to my bedroom.
“Is JJ here?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond, going to the hallway and calling into the rest of the house, “JJ! It’s me, Helen. Charlie and I are working on the case. Why don’t you come help us?”
I take a seat. “He’s not here, Mom.”
She returns to the table and sits as well. “Do you always run around your house in the evening in a fancy robe and hooker shoes?”
I glance at her over the laptop. She grins.
“Maybe that’s what I like to do. It helps me relax.”
She pulls the phone book from her stack and mumbles under her breath. “And they thinkI’mcrazy.”
“Not crazy, just driven, and we understand that. Meg and I are, too. But, Mom, all you had to do was call. You didn’t have to drive clear across town to ask me.”
“Your dad is gone. I had nothing better to do.” She flips open the book where she has it marked. “Besides, we can get more done if I’m here.”
And there’s the real reason she’s here…no one is home to talk to about the case. Who knows where Al is. She slides the book to me and I see where she’s circled various ads from that time period.
“JJ is coming over soon,” I tell her. “We’ll do a quick search, but even if these hardware stores are still in existence, and have a number listed, it’s eight-thirty, Mom. They’re not open.”
She ignores me, dragging the binder over and flipping through it. She searches in her purse and pulls out a pen. “I’m ready when you are.”
I roll my eyes, call up a search engine, and plug in the first one. “Denny’s Hardware Store. Closed in 1999.”
We spend the next few minutes going through them. There’s an Ace Hardware still in business and actually does have a different number. She looks like we’ve struck gold when I read it. She roots around in her bag, yanks out her cell and dials. Surprise, surprise, no one answers.
She hangs up, frustrated. “What time do they open? We should be there in person to question them.”
The psychologist in me knows this obsession isn’t healthy, and she could probably use anti-anxiety meds, but I remind myself she’s not hurting anyone. I try to look at this as if it’s simply a hobby. An intense one, but still harmless.
“I love you, Mom, but we are not driving to Virginia at the crack of dawn to harass a clerk first thing in the morning when the store opens. Tomorrow, you can call and ask politely if they have records from the 90s. You realize, even if they do, they won’t turn that information over to you, most likely. There are legal channels we’ll have to go through in order to get personal information about customers.”
“Fine.” She rises with a dramatic flourish and flips the phone book closed. She flips the binder shut as well, tosses the pen back in her purse. “Where is JJ? Is he the one that’ll have to get the warrant for us in order to obtain it?”
Deep breath. “One step at a time,” I coach. “Let’s reconvene in the office at nine. Meg can be there with you when you call, and if there’s any chance they still have records from the time period in question, we’ll move forward, okay?”
My phone buzzes with a text. JJ’s on his way. I stand. “I hate to rush you out, but I have work to do tonight.”
