"Did you know," Curt said, "the world's largest musical instrument is in Boardwalk Hall?"
We were standing on the Boardwalk outside the Hall, waiting for Annie's friend to arrive. It was five minutes to noon. The sun was scorching. There was no breeze. Even the seagulls had taken a break. I didn't come to the Atlantic City Boardwalk very often. I guess I didn't fully appreciate its history. It had opened before 1900 and had been home to venerated attractions like the Steel Pier and Convention Hall, now Boardwalk Hall. Today it was home to oddballs and cut-rate souvenir stores and saltwater taffy shops. At night I found it a little scary since a lot of people seemed to call it home. Because of that, I was never completely comfortable there.
"It's the pipe organ," Curt was saying. "It's got thirty-three thousand pipes. You ever heard a pipe organ with thirty-three thousand pipes?" He shook his head. "Incredible."
"Um-hum." She had said she'd be in white. White what? Bathing suit? Business suit? Cocktail waitress uniform? I hoped it wouldn't be a cocktail waitress uniform. I couldn't compete with that much cuteness.
"The Beatles played here." Curt looked at the doors with reverence. "On their first U.S. tour. And the Stones. And the Boss. And—"
A redhead in a white bikini came off the beach, wrapping a sheer scarf around her hips in the casual way models do. I held my breath as she floated past in a cloud of coconut suntan oil. What a relief.
"And the fights. All the greats have come through here." Curt shook his head. "You know, we ought to come see a show or a game here sometime."
There. That had to be her, making a beeline for us past the street people and the tourists. She had a no-nonsense look in a tailored white pantsuit and very high heels that somehow didn't get caught in the cracks of the Boardwalk as she moved. I thought I saw a flash of red sole. I'd never owned a pair of shoes with red soles. I couldn't carry them off, anyway. I was more of a New Balance kind of girl.
The woman marched right up to us, propped her sunglasses on top of her head, stuck out her hand, and said, "I'm Carolyn Taney. You're Jamie." She looked at Curt. Her eyes were a pale winter blue. Her hair was shampoo-commercial blonde. She was really gorgeous.
"This is my friend Curt," I told her. "He knows what I know." Next to nothing.
She shook his hand.
"How did you know Annie?" I asked her.
"We were roommates in college. We stayed friends." She nodded once—satisfied that she'd given us enough information for the moment. "Let's go somewhere and talk," she added. She pivoted sharply and headed off the way she'd come, still managing to avoid the cracks, sure-footed as a mountain goat in four-inch heels. She didn't look back to see if we were following her. She just assumed we were, and she was right.
If I wanted to, I was pretty sure I could dislike this woman.
She led us to a little restaurant on a side street just off the Boardwalk, far enough away from the noise of tourists and the hustle of those casinos that were still operating. There were many more closed or canceled while in the planning stage as were still open, and the economic condition of Atlantic City reflected that reality. It wasn't the destination it used to be, back in the days of the diving horses.
"Where did you find the locket?" she asked me as soon as we'd found a table. There weren't many other people in the place yet, but Carolyn Taney still picked a table in the rear. She sat facing the front window, her back to the wall. "It meant a lot to her. Her grandmother gave it to her."
"She was wearing it," I said. "When she…um…" I swallowed hard. "I went to school with Annie. So I recognized her when…" I glanced at Curt.
"When we found her on the beach," he said, his tone gentle.
"Wearing the locket," I added. "I'll return it to her family."
"On the beach," she repeated. She sounded angry but not a white-knuckled, uncontrolled kind of anger. More a tightly restrained, don't-turn-your-back kind. The dangerous kind. I was impressed by her composure. I'm not sure I would have reacted with such calmness after receiving that kind of news.
"She was buried," I said. "Mostly." I left it there. That much was bad enough.
"How?" The single word was like a gunshot
"We think she was strangled," Curt said. He didn't mention the ligature marks.
"So it was personal."
We didn't say anything.
Carolyn's mouth set in a grim line. "I always knew I'd get that call someday. I just hoped I'd get it from her, when she needed my help. That was the plan, you know. That's why we got a dedicated cell phone. She was the only one with the number, so when it rang, I just knew…" She trailed off and stared beyond us, out the window onto the Boardwalk.
A waitress came to the table. We ordered three iced teas, unsweetened for Carolyn.
"Sounds like Annie expected trouble," Curt said when the waitress was gone.
Carolyn nodded. She was looking out the window again.
"From who? What was going on?"
She dragged her attention back to us. "I'm sorry to say I don't really know. Of course I asked her, but she would only say she felt like she was being watched all the time. I think her exact words were she felt like she was in one of those old Movies of the Week, where the woman in jeopardy isn't sure whether or not she's imagining things."
"Was she afraid?" I asked. I hated to think Annie had been afraid. For some reason, I seemed to be feeling protective of her, as if she were a newborn puppy instead of a grown woman.
"Not exactly." Carolyn considered. "More like resigned, as strange as that might sound."
It didn't sound that strange to me. Resigned was how Annie had moved through adolescence. Resigned that she would be targeted for derision or just cruel exclusion.
Curt's voice got my attention. "Who would be watching her?" he was asking.
Carolyn shook her head. "That's just it. I have no idea. When Annie met Eddie, she became kind of…secretive. She was crazy in love—don't get me wrong. But it's like they were living in their own little bubble, and I was out of the loop. That happens sometimes, doesn't it?" She closed her eyes briefly, remembering. "She just came to my condo one day with the phone and asked me to keep it with me. In case anything happened, she said. And then something happened." She shook her head and looked at me. "So you met Annie at Rutgers?"
I could feel myself flush. "No, we went to high school together. We were in the same graduating class." I hesitated. "She hadn't changed much since then. I mean, she got prettier. And slimmer."
"And dead," Carolyn said flatly.
There was that.
"I should get ahold of her family," she said, talking more or less to herself. "They'll have questions for the police."
Uh-oh. Curt and I exchanged a look. He was actually beginning to look a little uncomfortable.
"There's something you should know," he said when it became obvious that I wasn't going to say it. "The police aren't involved. We called them, but—"
"What?" The single word lashed out at us like the crack of a whip. Carolyn did not look pleased. Well, that couldn't be helped; there was no way to make this a fairy tale. We'd found a body and lost a body, and that was the end and the beginning of it. Still, I'd been the one to fall over Annie's knee. The least I could do was come across with a sensitive explanation respectful of Carolyn's close relationship with Annie.
"Someone took the body," I blurted out. "While we were back at the house calling the police. By the time they got there…" I snapped my fingers. "Gone."
"Gone," Curt agreed. We nodded at each other.
"The police think it was all a bad joke," I said.
"Gone," Carolyn repeated. "Are you saying someone stole Annie's body?"
"That's it," I said. "Stole."
"Stole," Curt agreed. We nodded at each other.
"His name is Sasquatch," I added.
The waitress brought our iced teas. Carolyn ignored hers. "Whose name?"
We told her about the visit from Ernie and the sale of Annie's locket. "He wouldn't tell us anything other than the name Sasquatch," I said. "I think he was afraid to. Did Annie know anyone with that nickname?"
"Sasquatch." She didn't react to the name in any way, just leaned forward on her elbows, staring into her iced tea as she thought. "No, that doesn't seem like anyone she would know. Of course, like I said, she had become much more private since meeting Eddie, so I won't pretend to know everything about her."
Curt glanced at me. I could see disappointment in his eyes. Tracking down Sasquatch would be much more difficult if he'd been a total stranger to Annie.
"We'll keep looking," I assured her. "Someone has to know of him."
"Keep looking?" For the first time her self-assurance seemed to falter. "What do you mean? Are you two detectives or something?"
"Or something," Curt said with a self-deprecating smile.
"We've had some experience with this sort of thing," I told her. "I'm sorry to say," I added quickly.
She bounced right back. "I want to help," she said. No "what kind of experience?" or "my, you must be a couple of geniuses!" Carolyn Taney could not be derailed. She was a woman used to getting her way. Maybe she'd give me lessons. "I have the keys to Annie's house," she was saying. "I think we should start there."
It was like she read my mind. What better place to start learning about Annie than from her personal belongings. Still, it would have been more polite of her to wait for us to suggest it. After all, we were the non-detectives here.
She pulled a tablet and pen from her Fendi handbag, jotted down an address, and slid it across the table to us. "Meet me here at five o'clock." She stood up abruptly. "I don't know who you two are, but I trust you. Do not let me down." And she was gone.
"Wow." Curt took a gulp of iced tea. "I think she scares me."
"Strong woman," I agreed. "Annie could do worse for a friend."
"Seems to me I could say the same about you." He planted a kiss on my hair.
Sure. If Annie wasn't dead, she'd be a lucky woman.