THEO
BUD STEPPED INSIDE the store and I followed, flipping the sign to CLOSED. I locked the door and said, “Immie, did you see the paper this morning?”
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I have customers. You keep closing me down.”
“The paper?” I reminded her. “About that girl over in Rockaway.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s awful . . . why?”
We sat at the table. Bud took off his hat and sat down.
“Well, just spit it out,” she said. “And let me open my store.”
“We think,” Bud said, “these missing girls, murdered parents, stolen cars, red shoes, mysterious notes and all, are all the same guy . . . Genghis Hansel, like we told you a while back. But, I think he’s been around longer than we know. He took the two girls, and probably Suzy Wu last year. The one they found last week keeps sayin’ he smelled like Christmas or something.”
“Christmas?” Imogene bolted straight up. Her eyes bugged out. “Cloves!” she said, and then cleared her throat. “He smelled like clove cigarettes.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I told you. When that man came to church I ran outside after he left, after he was long gone. That was when I smelled his cigarette again. It smelled like cloves.”
“Okay . . . cloves,” Bud said writing it down. “We’ve got men covering Tillamook, Rockaway, and Garibaldi where actual crimes have been committed, looking for clues. Maybe someone saw something. There’s two men from the FBI who have at least started a file.”
“Why are they reluctant to follow up on this information?” I asked.
“Like you said, it’s like following a ghost,” Bud said. “Even Toreck . . . hard to track his comings and goings. And let’s face it, we have the murders of two petty criminals, a scary church visitor, footprints, clove cigarettes, and mysterious red shoes. Now, compare that to two missing girls and I guaran-damn-tee you the sheriffs are looking for them instead of trying to solve the murder of two people who, in their opinion, we’re better off without, anyways.”
Bud took Imogene’s hand in his. “Now listen to me, I think he’s set his sights on Tula.”
Imogene’s eyes widened and then flooded. “Tula?”
“It’ll be alright, though,” he said.
“We won’t leave Tula alone at any time,” I said. “Between myself, Bud, Solomon, and you gals, and Solly, there’s no reason for her to be alone. Not ever.”
“What’s a man like that want with Tula?” she asked. “How does he know about her?”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“Well, uncomplicate it for me,” she said.
“He’s a bad guy, Immie. He likes kids, okay?”
“Oh, shit,” she said, glancing at her hands on the table. “Okay.”
“Where is she now?” Bud asked as he stood from the table.
“She’s with Pearl . . . ” Imogene shot up and rushed out the screen door.
We followed her out to see Solomon standing at the end of the street outside Pearl’s picket fence while she and Tula worked in her garden and Solly slept on the sidewalk.
Imogene let out a heavy sigh.