CHAPTER 20

Pursuing the theory that Loretta and Elaine Farquart must have had some common point of intersection, I phone Elaine Farquart’s next-door neighbor, Amy Martin. She’s eager to help in any way she can. She knows Elaine’s two closest friends and tells me she’ll phone them to see when they are available to meet me. Within minutes she gets back to say that they want to talk to me right away. “We all want to find out what happened to Elaine. It’s so horrible.”

I swing by Loretta’s house to look at her calendar and list of phone numbers to see whether there’s a name or number for a beauty shop. Two weeks back, there’s a Tuesday afternoon appointment for “hair.” That’s not helpful. The list of phone numbers is by name, almost all first names only. No more helpful than “hair.” Turning to her credit bills, I find a payment for “Darlene’s Beauty Shop” in Bobtail. She paid $85 to have her hair done. Seems steep to me. Douglas Heckman still gives me a $15 haircut in his barbershop.

I arrive at Amy’s just as two of her boys have gotten home from school. The oldest one has stayed for baseball practice. She sends the two upstairs and tells them they are not to disturb us, reinforcing her admonition with an armload of snacks. When the doorbell rings, she whispers, “Carol and Misty are good friends, but you wouldn’t know it. Be prepared; they pick at each other constantly.”

Carol Johnson and Misty Lovell are in their sixties, Elaine’s age. Carol is a big-boned widow with steel gray hair and posture a model would envy. Misty is plump and pink-eyed, reminding me of a nervous rabbit. Neither of them recognizes Loretta’s name or her photo. The two of them sit side by side on the sofa.

“Elaine had many interests,” Carol says, speaking precisely as one would expect of the English teacher that she was for forty years. “It’s quite possible she knew your friend and I wouldn’t have met her.”

“What was she interested in?”

“She played bridge and was a bird watcher—went down to King’s Ranch every year for bird count season.”

“I believe she also went to Costa Rica once to look at birds,” Misty says, casting a nervous glance at Carol.

“Of course she did,” Carol says. “Don’t say you believe so when you know perfectly well she did.” Her tone is scolding.

Amy widens her eyes in my direction.

Carol says, “She used to volunteer at the animal shelter, but she said seeing all those unwanted pets upset her, and she had to quit.” They both eye Dusty, who has sprawled at my feet.

“She loved her cat,” Misty says, dabbing at the corner of her eye. “I hope somebody will take care of it. I’m allergic, or I’d take it.”

“If her daughter doesn’t take the kitty, I will,” Amy says.

“Did Elaine have a church affiliation?” I ask. It’s possible she met Loretta at a church function.

The two women exchange a glance. “I don’t think she went to church,” Misty says.

“You know she didn’t, Misty.” Carol fixes her with a severe look.

“She was a Baptist at one time,” Amy says. “But she said the church got too strict for her taste, and she didn’t have the heart to look for another church home.”

Carol’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, Elaine and I were friends,” she says, “but she was a little free-thinking. She might have been better off if she’d met a man through church instead of putting herself out on that website.”

Misty blinks her pink eyes furiously. “Carol, that’s not fair, and you know it.”

Carol sniffs. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You know I am.”

Amy meets my eye, and I can see she’s having trouble stifling a laugh.

I should be amused too, but it’s hard to find my sense of humor with Loretta missing.

Although the women seem eager to please, they have no answers that I find helpful. I thank the women for their time, but it seems wasted. Loretta didn’t play bridge, and as far as I know, she wasn’t interested in birds.

When they’ve gone, Amy’s mood plunges along with mine. “I wish I could be of more help.”

“Do you know where Elaine had her hair done?”

Amy looks blank. “I know she liked the woman who did it, but I don’t know where it was.”

“Did she shop at any particular clothing store in town?”

Amy grimaces. “If she mentioned one, I don’t remember. There were a lot of years between us, and we didn’t dress the same.” She blinks. “Wait. I remember a few weeks ago, she came over for coffee and said she had been to a new store in town and she thought I might like it too. Raven Black or Black Raven or something like that. No. It was Blackbird. I thought it was a funny name for a clothing store.”

As I’m leaving, I get a call from Maria. She is leaving the outlet mall and says she’s discouraged. I tell her to meet me at Blackbird.

“It will take me an hour to get back this late in the afternoon. They might be closed by then.”

“You sound out of breath.”

“I’m walking to my car.”

I tell her I’ll go over to Blackbird and make sure they stay open until she gets there. “I think you might have a better handle on what kind of questions to ask at a woman’s store than I will.”

“Oh, don’t be so squeamish just because they sell women’s clothes. Act like you’d act if you were questioning a man’s clothing store. It’s all the same.”

In my car, I put in a call to Hogarth and ask him whether they have Elaine Farquart’s credit card bills and bank records. “I’m looking for any connection between her and my friend Loretta. It’s possible they went to the same beauty shop.”

“That’s a good thought. Come on by the station. I’m on my way out, but I’ll have Marks get you her credit card bills.”

It’s four-thirty when I get to the Bobtail Police Department. I’m in a hurry. Blackbird closes in an hour. But Hogarth is as good as his word. The duty officer hands me a sheaf of printouts.

I scan them as I’m walking back to my car. “Bingo,” I say. Both women went to the same beauty shop.

I key in the name of Darlene’s Beauty Shop on my phone and see that it’s out on the edge of town. I’m torn whether to go straight there or stop by the Blackbird clothing store. But a call to the beauty shop answers the question. They’re closed on Monday.

I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to talk to the owner. I want to question her now. Hoping she leaves a home number, I dial the shop’s phone, and sure enough the message gives an emergency number. “Yeah?” A man’s voice answers.

“I’m looking for the owner of Darlene’s Beauty Shop.”

“This is her number, but she’s not available at the moment. I can take a message.”

“I need to talk to her pretty quickly.” I identify myself.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m her husband. We’re in San Antonio. She’s in a department store. I bailed out, and I’m waiting for her in a coffee shop.”

“How soon will you be back home?”

“We’re going to have supper here at the Crab Shack, so I don’t imagine we’ll be home much before nine depending on traffic.”

“Do you know if she’ll be in the shop tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to her then.”

“Can I tell her what it’s concerning? She’ll be curious.”

“I have a few questions about one of her clients.”

Blackbird is downtown, on a block that has been newly renovated. Everything looks modern, lots of steel and glass and bright colors, like stores you see in Houston or San Antonio. I can already see the effect on neighboring areas. Scaffolding is up on a tired-looking building down the block, and a couple of stores have “Closing Soon for Renovation” signs. Bobtail is coming up in the world—or at least in the county.

One step inside Blackbird, and I know I’m lost. A young woman with a head full of curls, who makes me think of what Wendy must have looked like when she was young, glides over to me. She has kind eyes and an amused smile. “How can I help you?” Her tone implies that she thinks I might be lost.

I pull out the photos of Loretta and Elaine Farquart. “I wonder if you’ve ever seen either of these women?”

Her smile disappears, replaced with a somber look. “That’s Elaine. Yes, we knew her. What a tragedy.”

“How about this woman? Her name is Loretta Singletary,” I add, thinking that even if the photo doesn’t jog her memory, her name might.

She studies the photo. “I don’t remember her. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here. We get a lot of people in who browse and don’t buy anything. Or she might have been in when I wasn’t here.” Her gaze lingers on me. “If you’re asking about her and Elaine, that’s not good, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.” I muster a smile. “Good deduction on your part. Loretta is missing, and I’m trying to find out if there was any connection between the two women.”

“I never saw the two of them together. But again, that doesn’t mean they weren’t here when I was off.”

I find out that there are three other possible clerks: two who work on weekends and another one who works during the week. “And there’s the owner, Shelly Wycoff. She’s in and out.”

I’ve brought copies of the photos and leave copies with her. “If anyone has seen Loretta, with or without Elaine Farquart, have them give me a call.”

I’m standing outside wondering whether I should ask in any other shops when Maria wheels up. She gets out looking grim and frazzled. “That damn road between here and San Antonio gets worse every time I travel it.”

I don’t like hearing that. Maria is close to her family in San Antonio, and I worry that one day she’ll decide the commute is too much for her and she’ll transfer to the San Antonio Police Department. “It was rush hour,” I offer.

I tell her that the young woman in Blackbird wasn’t able to help.

“But there is one thing.” When I tell her about the connection with the beauty shop, she’s excited.

“Let’s go talk to her.”

I tell her the owner of the shop is in San Antonio and won’t be back until late.

“Let’s see if there are any other clothing stores around here that Loretta might have shopped in.” She glances at her watch. “We have a few minutes before people will be closing up.”

A block away, in a row of older, more traditional-looking stores, we pass a clothing shop that even I can tell sells clothes that probably appeal to an older crowd. We go in and startle a curvaceous woman in her sixties. She’s making a last stand against age with bright lipstick and heavy eye makeup.

I introduce the two of us and pull out the photos.

“Why yes, I recognize both of those girls. Loretta has been coming in here for years. Not that she buys that much, but she likes to browse.”

“And the other woman?” I ask.

She cocks her head to one side. “Yes, I recognize her. She’s the woman who was killed. Her picture was on the news. But I don’t think she was ever in here.”

“Is it possible that she was here when another employee was workimg?”

“No, it isn’t. I’m the only one who works here. I’m the owner, and I had to let my last employee go last summer.” She turns to Maria. “You probably noticed there are fancy new shops going in. I can’t keep up. I’m going to have to sell, but I’m putting it off as long as I can.”

“It’s a nice store,” Maria says. “I imagine you have long-time customers who will be sorry to see you close up.”

The woman’s eyes widen. She nods and purses her lips. I have the feeling that if she spoke, she’d start to cry.

I tell her why we are asking about Loretta. “Oh, my goodness. She’s missing?” She glances at Elaine Farquart’s photo again, and I see her make the connection that if one was killed, the other might be too. “Did you ever have any conversations with Loretta?” Maria asks. “Not really. I knew she was from Jarrett Creek and that she has two sons . . .” Her voice trails away. “Come to think of it, it has been a while since I saw her.”

Because Loretta had started wearing more youthful clothing.

Tomorrow will be a week since Loretta disappeared. In the evening when it’s time to check on my cows, I realize that I’m too distracted to do a good job. If something was wrong with one of them, I’d hardly notice. I’ll call Truly Bennett tomorrow and see whether he’s home yet and hire him to do a thorough job of examining them.

On our evening walk, Dusty and I pass by Loretta’s house, and I think again about the man I disturbed inside. There was no way to figure out who he was. No fingerprints. I got no visual on him—just that he had some strength and moved faster than I did. It was dark when I encountered him. He had parked a car around the corner, but he zoomed away before I could get there.

I’m staring at the house when the neighbor on the west side comes out on the porch. He waves at me, and I walk over to greet him. He’s a lanky widower with barely a wisp of hair on is head. He wears thick glasses, but he still peers at me as if he has trouble seeing. His hearing is almost nonexistent, but if you yell you can get through to him.

“Hey, Irwin,” I say.

“No need to yell,” he says. “He points to his ear. Got me some hearing aids.”

“That’s good. How are they working?” I go up on the porch with Dusty.

“Pretty good. I had to get them so I could talk to my grandson on the phone. His mamma told me he was tired of yelling at me. Else I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Well, maybe you can help me out. I guess you know Loretta is missing.”

“That’s why I come out here. I wanted to tell you what I seen.” He gestures toward Loretta’s house.

My heart quickens. “What’s that?”

“Last Tuesday morning, I come outside to turn on the sprinkler, and I seen Loretta back her car out of her garage and drive away like her tail was on fire.”

“Which way did she go?”

“Toward town.” He nods toward the east, where the highway runs through town.

“But you didn’t speak to her.”

“No. I probably wouldn’t have anyway. She was in a hurry. You know Loretta. Always busy, always running here and there.”

“Did she have a suitcase with her?”

“No, sir. That came later.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tuesday evening, I put on my sprinkler and got to watching TV and forgot about it. At 11:00 p.m., I remembered, and I came outside to turn it off. Somebody was coming out of Loretta’s place in a big hurry, carrying a suitcase.”

“A man?”

He scrunches up his eyes and looks over toward Loretta’s house. “Dressed like a man, but . . .” He draws a breath, and I wait while he gathers his thoughts. “Something about the way he walked put me in mind of a lady.”

“Tell me how he was dressed. Or she.”

“Slacks. A shirt, maybe tan or brown. And a baseball hat.”

“Could you see if the hat had a logo?”

“It was too dark, and it all happened fast.”

“Why didn’t you call me to tell me this?”

“I only heard at church this past Sunday that she was missing. I suppose I should have called after that, but . . .” He shrugs. “Figured it was her business if she’s gone off with a man.”

I think again of the man I caught here. At least I thought it was a man. Irwin doesn’t see very well, which could account for his uncertainty. “Have you seen anybody hanging around here in the past few days who you don’t recognize?”

“Only her son. He comes outside to smoke. I can understand that. If he smoked inside, Loretta would have his hide.”

“Anyone else?”

“You’re thinking somebody might break in and steal something with her away?”

“Not sure. If you happen to see anything unusual, though, give me a call.”