Chapter Seventeen
Detective Bryan Whitmore didn’t make a habit of going out on calls to file a missing person report, but he knew Dr. McCann wouldn’t have called him unless it was a true emergency. He hadn’t asked for details over the phone because it didn’t work that way, and the doctor hadn’t offered up anything other than that he’d had an argument with his wife and she was missing.
He looked at the address. Riverbend Road, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Goldenhills. The doctor charged a small fortune to crown a tooth, so he wasn’t surprised at the ritzy address. He drove down the long driveway, parking his unmarked Ford as close to the front of the house as possible. He gazed at the McMansion and shook his head. Some people. He walked up the small set of steps and rang the doorbell.
He’d barely had a chance to remove his hand from the doorbell before the door swung open. “Detective, please come in,” Tanner McCann said, stepping aside.
“Of course,” Bryan said. He removed a pad from inside his shirt pocket. He patted around searching for a pen with no luck.
“Let’s go into the den. We’ll be more comfortable there.”
Bryan wondered if the doctor was the one who felt more comfortable in his den, but he kept the thought to himself. He’d been to the doctor’s office in Goldenhills several times. Dr. McCann was an excellent dentist. He was professional, and he always had a great manner with him and, he assumed, with the rest of his patients. He recalled his being a bit sharp with his dental assistant, but he wasn’t judging him. Maybe his assistant was new to the job, who knew?
He followed him down a hall to a set of giant wooden double doors, the kind he saw in those old black-and-white movies he watched on Sunday afternoons when he was bored out of his mind. Since his divorce, weekends stunk. By mutual agreement, Paula, his ex-wife, had custody of their fifteen-year-old daughter, Marty. His job required him to be on call twenty-four-seven, while Paula’s job as principal at Golden Elementary was pretty routine as far as hours went. He hated not seeing his daughter every weekend, but he and his ex had both decided that their marriage wasn’t working and had divorced when Marty was eleven. Marty had been sad, but she made the best of the situation. As far as Bryan could tell, she hadn’t been damaged by their divorce.
“Detective, can I offer you something to drink?” The doctor poured himself a drink from a minibar on the far side of the room.
“No, I’m on duty, but thanks. Now, tell me about your wife.” If McCann had been that concerned, Bryan thought, there would be more of an emotional reaction, but as far as he could see, at least so far, the man acted like he’d invited him over to shoot the breeze. However, he knew from twenty years’ experience that people reacted differently in stressful situations.
The doctor motioned for him to sit in a burgundy-leather wing chair in front of his massive desk. As soon as he was seated, Dr. McCann seated himself behind the desk. Putting himself in a position of power, Bryan thought.
“Here.” The good doctor handed him a fountain pen. Apparently he’d been watching him.
“Thanks, now why don’t you tell me about this argument you and your wife had.” He flipped the small leather notebook open, preparing to take notes in a shorthand that only he could read.
Tanner smiled. “It’s almost embarrassing, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t follow the proper procedures. I’m—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but what exactly do you mean by ‘proper procedures’?”
“As I was about to say, Detective, I’m quite familiar with the proper procedures when filing a police report.”
“I don’t understand,” he replied. Let the good doctor talk.
“I lost my first wife, Elaine.”
Bryan scribbled the name in his notebook. “How long ago?”
“When the twins were toddlers. Over twenty-one years ago. It seems like yesterday.” He took a drink of the golden liquid in his glass.
“And you had to file a police report then?” he asked.
“Yes. She had an accident.” Tanner shook his head. “It was the worst day of my life when she died.”
Bryan rearranged himself in the uncomfortable chair. The doctor must’ve known how uncomfortable it was when he invited him to sit down. “What kind of accident?” he asked, wondering just how long the doctor planned on talking about his dead wife before he actually mentioned his current one, the one he claimed was missing.
“She fell down the stairs when the twins were just a few months old. I tried to revive her, but her skull was crushed. Still, I had to try. I just couldn’t . . . it was hard with two babies. I hoped to save her life so they wouldn’t grow up without a mother, but I met Molly when the boys were nine months old. When I met her, I knew right away that I’d met my soul mate. She’s younger by ten years. We have a seventeen-year-old daughter, Kristen. She’s in France right now. A high-school graduation trip.”
“Doc, have you been drinking?” He had to ask. The doctor wasn’t making sense, jumping all over the place.
He nodded. “I had a few drinks with a friend before I came home, and this.” He held up his glass. “I’m not inebriated, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, of course not. I just had to ask given that you’re drinking now. I wasn’t sure. Just want to make sure we’re both clear on the details, that’s all. Go on, you were telling me about your wife.” The dead one, he thought, but didn’t dare voice this.
“Yes, I was. She’s great. Really. Cooks like a pro. You should see the dinner parties she throws. I met her in a diner where she worked. Hey, maybe we’ll have you over some night. You can see for yourself.”
Bryan thought the doctor was not only drunk but slightly off. He’d never been invited to dinner by one of his doctors, let alone one whose wife was missing.
“Yes, well then, let’s talk about her. Her name is . . .” He looked blankly at the doctor “What did you say? I’m sorry, we’re all over the place. My memory isn’t getting any better with age.” He liked to act like an airhead, kind of like Peter Falk in Columbo. It put people at ease. And that’s when they let their guard down.
“Her name is Molly.”
“Oh yes. Right. Molly. Now, tell me about the argument you two had.”
“We had a few guests over for dinner last night. Doctors who want to invest in my fourth office. We’re going to be nationwide in the future. People like pretty white teeth. It’s a good investment if you’re interested, though you probably don’t have money to invest in a dental clinic.” He laughed. “Sorry, I get excited when I start talking about the future in dentistry. We had dinner, then dessert. Molly served coffee, no, she didn’t serve coffee. She set the pot on the buffet, and we served ourselves. She had some kind of cake she’d purchased at Gloria’s, that organic market she can’t seem to stay out of. Their prices are out of sight, too. Don’t shop there, you’ll go broke. As we were having dessert, Holden, my son, took a bad fall. He’s the older of the twins by four minutes. I ran upstairs to see what the noise was. Graham was standing at the top of the staircase, scared to death. Apparently, Holden had tripped over the mess on his bedroom floor, hit his head on the corner of the bed, and knocked himself out. Cold as ice. I checked his pulse, and well, I am a doctor. After I determined he was okay, I told Molly to please ask our guests to leave since we had a family emergency. She did, but as soon as they were gone, she went crazy. She accused Holden of using drugs, she tore up a four-thousand-dollar dress, and, basically, she went ballistic.”
Bryan nodded and continued to write in his notebook. “You didn’t try to calm her down?”
“Of course I did, but as I said, she went crazy. She kept saying things about the boys that weren’t true and told me she’d hated them since day one, and well, as a father, that’s the last thing you want your wife to say about your kids, no matter how old they are. She took a nasty fall, smacked the you know what out of her cheek. Then, when Kristen saw how her mother was acting, she insisted that she come into her room. Molly stayed there all night. At least I think she was there all night. I’m sure she took Kristen to the airport this morning.”
Bryan scribbled more information, but he had a memory like an elephant. If he missed writing it down, he’d remember it, no matter what. It was his best skill as a detective—at least he liked to think it was one of his best skills. “Are you saying you haven’t seen her since your argument last night when she went to your daughter’s room?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Though this could be a typical case of a pissed-off wife who was staying with friends—or in this case, maybe some fancy spa—his gut told him otherwise. He’d learned a very long time ago to listen to his gut instinct, as he was rarely wrong when he did.
“Normally, we like to wait twenty-four hours before we start a formal investigation, but if we deem the circumstances appropriate, we will begin investigating immediately. Would it be possible to speak with your sons?”
The look on the doctor’s face spoke volumes. Anger, Bryan could see it. Hell, on this man, he could smell it.
“No, that’s not possible. As I told you, Holden suffered a head injury and wouldn’t recall anything useful.”
“And your other son? Graham, I believe. I’d like to speak with him.” It was not a question.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, either. Graham wouldn’t have anything to offer.”
“Dr. McCann, why don’t you let me decide what’s useful and what isn’t. You called me because you’re concerned about your wife. I’m here to help. If your son Graham is here, I’d like to speak to him.”
“He’s out on a date. How in the hell did I forget that?” He laughed and stood up to pour himself another drink. “You sure you don’t want something? A soda? Water? I might’ve had a bit too much to drink; I swear it completely slipped my mind. Graham called me this evening and told me he was going out and not to wait up.”
“Did he call your cell phone? The number you called me from?” Bryan was curious what excuse he’d come up with now.
“Of course he did.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind showing me your cell phone, for when you received the call? Just procedure, but, of course, you know this.” He laughed.
“Not at all.” He removed his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to him.
“Thanks, what’s Graham’s number? The one he would have called from?”
“It’s 617-555-0325.”
Bryan pulled up the recent calls, making a note to remember the other numbers as he scrolled through them; he’d jot a few down if he had to. He went through them carefully, but didn’t find the number. One more time, and he handed the phone back to Dr. McCann. “I can’t seem to locate that number. Maybe there is another number he could have called from?”
“Shoot, I might’ve deleted it. Sorry.”
“Okay, Dr. McCann. Let’s talk about where your wife might be. Does she have a friend she’d stay with, a favorite spa, a hotel, someplace we can start searching. And what about her car. I’ll need the make and model, and the license-plate number.”
“That’s the big mystery. Her car is still in the garage.” This is getting screwier by the minute, Bryan thought. “Would a friend have picked her up? How did she take your daughter to the airport this morning? Does she have another car?”
“No, she doesn’t have anyone who would drive her to the airport when there is no need. Kristen has a car, but it’s in the shop now. Barry’s Automotive. You can check it out. It’s a 2014 Honda Civic. She took it in for a tune-up a couple of days ago. It should’ve been ready by now. That’s why Molly had to drive her to the airport.”
He knew Barry’s; he took his own car there. That would be easy to check. He jotted down a few more notes, then closed the notebook and laid the fountain pen on top of the doctor’s desk. He stood up and walked across the room to the set of wooden doors.
“I thought you were going to write up a missing person report. What’s the problem?” Tanner followed him to the door.
Bryan stopped at the exit. “Dr. McCann, I can’t see there’s any cause for concern. You had a fight. You’re pretty sure Molly drove your daughter to the airport, and your sons have nothing to offer. I’m guessing—and humor me, as this is an educated guess—your wife will come home tomorrow full of apologies, you will take her to some fancy place for dinner, then come home and kiss and make up. I just don’t see any reason to start an investigation.”
“So you’re telling me I’m crazy? Is that what you’re saying? I know my wife, dammit! If I say she’s missing, she’s missing. Get out of my house! I plan on calling your superior the second you leave, so prepare yourself. If I have anything to say, your incompetent ass will be out of a job. Now get the hell out of my house!”
Bryan walked down the long hallway to the front door and let himself out.
After hearing what Dr. McCann had to say, Bryan had, with no compunction, lied to him. He did indeed plan on starting an investigation, but it wasn’t into the disappearance of the doctor’s wife, at least not yet.
No, he planned to start an investigation into the doctor’s background.