The hunt, p.24
The Hunt, page 24
“I never said that. He was in here once. I remember because I waited on him.”
“Really!” Decker felt a flash of excitement. “Did he talk to you about Pauline?”
“He mentioned her. This was maybe four months ago.” She was still staring at the photograph. “He looks mean in the picture. In person, he’s got a nice smile. He’s kinda cute.”
“And he talked to you about Pauline?” McAdams said.
“It wasn’t like … ‘Do you know Pauline and where can I find her?’”
“Okay,” Decker said. “What was it like?”
“I think he mentioned he was a friend of hers from way back. I told him I haven’t seen her around lately.” She took in a deep breath and let it out. “That was really about it.”
“Perfect,” Decker said. “And you think this might have been like four months ago?”
“Three or four, yeah,” Mary said. “After Pauline moved in with Elsie.”
“What was Pauline like?” Decker asked.
“She was friendly—you know, talking to other tables across the room. She came in for lunch.” A pause. “I don’t think she had a job.”
McAdams said, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “You just get a feel for people. She never seemed in a hurry. And she left the same tip no matter what she had. Three dollars and fifty cents. Not the most generous if she’s having a full meal, but she left it even if she stopped in for a Coke. It all evened out.” Mary stood up. “I have to get back to work.”
“Thank you for your time,” Decker said.
“Thank you for your tip,” she replied. “I suppose it was for the service and the information. Although it wasn’t much information.”
“It was great information.” Decker paused. “Out of curiosity, what’s your last name, Mary?”
“Yost. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“If you say so.” Mary walked away.
After she left, McAdams said, “For a Mennonite, I was thinking Yoder, but Yost is about the same thing. Anyway, we now know that Baer was here.”
“It establishes a recent link, especially since he mentioned Pauline to Mary,” Decker said. “At least it doesn’t feel like a waste of time.”
“What do you think he wanted from her? To rekindle an old relationship? Retaliation? Just passing through and thought he’d say hello?”
“Doubt it was the last one. Let’s see if we can find out.” Decker checked his watch. “It’s a little past three. What time do you think the bars open?”
“Happy hour usually starts at four.”
“We can keep canvassing. Or we can call Quay now and find out if he has anything.”
“Let’s keep canvassing,” McAdams said. “My motto is the fewer people to muck things up, the better.”
Decker said, “What do you think about an overnight stay here?”
“How long do you think our business here will take?”
“I don’t know. But I want to investigate this area thoroughly, which means I want to talk to all the restaurant and bar people. Plus, I want to go back to Elsie’s house and canvass there. Why rush it if Rina’s not home anyway?”
“For one thing, I didn’t pack anything.”
“I know you’re used to the good life, but you can survive without a change of clothes.” Decker looked at his phone for inns. “Sorry, Harvard, I don’t see a Ritz nearby.”
“Anything Relais & Châteaux will do, old man.” McAdams smiled. “Would it be too much to ask for something clean?”
Decker looked at his map. “There’s a MotoInn about a half mile away. There’s also what looks like a boutique hotel called the Lancaster’s Red Rose that’s a few blocks away. Should we check it out?”
“What’s least likely to give me bedbugs?”
“Don’t know, but the local place is way more likely to give us information.”
McAdams sighed. “Then the Lancaster’s Red Rose it is.”
AT THREE-FORTY-FIVE, THEY checked in to their respective rooms. Decker’s was small and furnished with Victorian repros. There was a worn dresser with a ceramic washbasin sitting on top of it—unnecessary because the place did boast indoor plumbing. The bed was small but sufficient for one person. The mattress was lumpy and the coils squeaked. The nightstand held fresh flowers in a small vase. The bathroom had shampoo, soap, and plenty of hot water as amenities. Decker showered, re-dressed, and met McAdams in the lobby a half hour later. They called Jake Quay, who said he’d meet them at the hotel at five. In the meantime, they found a drugstore, where they bought toothbrushes, toothpaste, a bag of disposable razors, and two combs.
They went back to the hotel, and Decker left the bag with the front desk. The woman in charge had short lemon-colored hair, a pale face, and brown eyes. She looked to be in her fifties. Her name tag announced her as Beth. She said, “Would you like me to put these up in your rooms?”
“We’ll get them on our way back.” Decker looked to his right. The hotel had a small bar and cocktail lounge. He took out a picture of Pauline Corbett. “Do you know this woman?”
“That’s Pauline,” Beth said immediately. Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Decker took out his badge. “We’re looking for information about her.”
“Why? What did she do?”
“Ongoing investigation.”
Beth regarded the billfold and said, “The badges look real enough. But so did the other guy’s badge.”
Decker and McAdams exchanged looks. Decker took out a picture of Brock Baer. “Was the other guy this man?”
Beth’s eyes went to the photograph. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
“If you’re thinking about calling someone local, try Sergeant Quay,” Decker said. “He’ll vouch for us. As a matter of fact, he should be here in about five minutes.” He tapped the snapshot with a finger. “What did this guy want?”
“He asked if I knew Pauline Corbett. I told him I knew her. When he asked where she lived, I became suspicious. I told him I didn’t know, even though I did. I know she’s missing … Pauline is.”
“Unfortunately, she is deceased, and she died in my jurisdiction.”
The woman appeared stunned. At that moment, Jake Quay walked inside. He was wearing civvies—a black polo shirt and jeans and high-tops. He came to the front desk and noticed the look on Beth’s face. He said, “I guess they told you what’s going on.”
“It’s true, then? Is Pauline dead?” When Quay nodded, Beth said, “Like, was she killed or …”
Decker said, “It’s a homicide.”
Beth gasped. “What about Elsie? Has she been found?”
“Not yet.” Quay noticed the picture of Brock Baer. He picked it up and showed it to her again. “You’ve seen him before, Beth?”
“He was asking about her … Pauline.”
“When was this?”
“A while back. Maybe three months ago. Before Elsie disappeared.”
“And?”
“I didn’t think much about it, because the next day she met him for drinks in the bar. They looked like friends.”
“Then they weren’t fighting or anything?”
“Not to my eye, no.”
“Did he stay here?” Decker asked.
A pause. “I know I didn’t check him in. But Eddie could have been on shift. Want me to check the register?”
“Please,” Quay said.
“It might take me a little time. I don’t remember the exact date.”
“We can wait.”
Decker said, “You said they had drinks together in the lounge?”
“I remember they walked into the lounge. I’m assuming they had drinks.”
“Do you remember who was behind the bar?”
“No, I don’t remember that. Sorry.”
“And that was the last time you saw him?” Decker asked.
“Yes.” Beth started going through the register books.
Decker said, “While she’s checking the records, let’s see if the bartender has anything to add.” Quay nodded, and the three of them walked into the lounge.
The carpet was a deep floral maroon and smelled musty. The furniture was old but polished; same with the bar top. At this hour, the place had few customers. The man behind the bar was bald with a young face. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing colorful tats. CHET was on his name tag.
Quay showed him the picture of Baer. “He was in about three months ago, Chet.”
“Vaguely familiar.” A shrug.
Quay said, “He was with Pauline Corbett.”
A spark. “Ah. That’s right. What about him?”
“You tell me,” Decker said.
Chet shrugged. “They met up around eight.”
“Did they come in together?”
“I’ve got to think.” A long pause. “I believe he came in first. Then she came in and sat down next to him.” He pointed to the end of the bar on the right side. “There.” A pause. “My opinion? They seemed to be warming up.”
“Meaning?” Decker asked.
Chet said, “After a while on this job, you can kind of tell if people are in for a friendly how-do or if they’re gearing up for a night of getting hammered.”
Quay said, “So they were in it for the long haul?”
“Seemed that way to me, Jake, but I don’t know. Check with the Mule or with Tobacco’s Road.”
Jake nodded. “Will do.”
“How long were they here?” Decker asked.
“About an hour.”
McAdams asked, “Did they seem friendly with each other?”
Chet said, “Don’t remember them fighting.” A pause. “Don’t remember her hanging on him or whatnot. They had a few beers, got up, paid the bill, and left.”
“How many each?”
“Two, three bottles. They seemed to be walking okay when they left. What’s this about?”
Decker said, “The man that Pauline was with is a person of interest in a homicide.”
“I know that Pauline and Elsie Schulung are missing.” He looked at Quay. “We talked about this a few months ago, right?”
Quay said, “Yes, we did.”
“Are they dead?”
Decker said, “Pauline is deceased.”
“Wow.” Chet looked upset. “And Elsie?”
“Still missing.”
“What happened to Pauline?”
“Ongoing investigation,” Decker said. “Pauline was found in my jurisdiction in Greenbury. That’s why I’m here with Sergeant Quay.”
“Where is Greenbury?”
“About three hours from here.”
“What was Pauline doing there?”
“I’m trying to figure that out,” Decker said. “How many times did you see Pauline with this guy?”
“Just the once … about three months ago.” Chet looked at Quay. “Right before Pauline and Elsie went missing, obviously. Do you think he had something to do with it?”
“We are checking everything,” Quay said. “Thanks, Chet, you’ve been helpful.”
“No worries.”
They went back to Beth at the front desk. She looked at Quay and said, “I don’t think he stayed here, Sergeant. Probably this place was too rich for his blood. He was more like a sleeping-in-his-car kinda man.”
“Did he look shabby when you spoke with him?” Decker asked.
“I don’t remember. Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway, Beth.” Quay turned to Decker. “Both of the places that Chet mentioned should be open by now. The Mule is closer. Let’s try that first.”
CHAPTER 17
RED LETTERS SPELLED out THE MULE with a blue-lit logo of the pack animal trudging under the weight of side bags. Quay said, “You know, I did interview people here when Elsie went missing. We’re a small town, but I take my responsibility seriously.”
“I know, Jake. I’m only here because new things turned up in my area. And I haven’t interviewed anyone with regards to Pauline. And that means that McAdams and I have to go back to the beginning.”
“I just want you to know that I haven’t been sitting on my ass.”
Decker placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “McAdams and I work in a small town. We know how dedicated we are. I’m sure you’re the same way. Let’s get this done together.”
“Yeah, well …” Quay opened the door. “Thanks.”
Inside was dark as befit a bar. The floor space held a pool table, currently unoccupied, with about ten small tables around the perimeter. The bar was U-shaped, and the stools looked recently upholstered. Three men and two women took up space, munching on bowls of mini pretzels that sat on the countertop. A white-aproned bartender stood in front of shelves holding a wide selection of libations. There was also a chalkboard featuring a sizable menu from the kitchen.
The bartender was rotund and red-faced—maybe mid-fifties. He looked at Quay and nodded. “What’s up, Sarge?”
“The usual, Jim. Trying to nail bad guys.” Quay made introductions.
Upon hearing the detectives’ names, Jim said, “Then this is business?”
“Yep, but it’s hot outside. I’ll take a beer.” Quay looked at Decker and McAdams, both shaking their heads no. “You don’t mind?”
Decker said, “Not at all.” He pulled out a picture and laid it on the bar top. He spoke to Jim. “Have you ever seen this man?”
Jim gave it a quick glance as he pulled the beer tap. “Looks familiar. Who is he?”
“Maybe you’ve seen him with this woman?” Out came the picture of Corbett.
“That’s Pauline.” He let the suds run over the rim of the glass, then gave it to Quay.
“Ever see them together?” Decker asked.
“Maybe like a while back … like three months ago.”
“That would be about right,” Decker said. “What can you tell me about them?”
“I gotta remember first.” He wiped his hands on his apron and appeared to be thinking. “They sat at the bar. They were here for maybe an hour. They were making the rounds.”
“Meaning?” McAdams asked.
“They’d been drinking before they came in. I could smell it.”
Quay sipped his beer. “Behaving badly?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Pauline’s a friendly gal. She’d talk to anyone.” His eyes were far away, bringing up a memory that was still etched in his mind. “He was quieter, but not by much. I know that Pauline’s missing. The sergeant and I had a conversation about it, right?”
“We did,” Quay said. “You said that Elsie and Pauline would come here.”
Jim said, “Pauline used to be a regular, but after she hooked up with Elsie, the visits weren’t so often. They’d pop in … play pool for about an hour. They ordered sodas and bar food. I think Elsie was trying to keep Pauline sober.”
“Pauline could throw them down?” McAdams asked.
“She could hold her own.”
Decker tapped the photo. “What did Pauline drink when she was with this man?”
“What did she drink?” A pause. “Not soda, that’s for sure.” Another pause. “Don’t hold me to it, but I seem to recall both of them putting back shots with a beer chaser.”
“How many shots?”
“Maybe three or four over an hour. Nothing crazy.”
A patron yelled, “Hey, Jim, can I get a refill?”
“Sorry, Barry. Coming up.” He looked at the trio. “Excuse me.”
They waited until he was done serving. Quay drank his beer, then took a handful of pretzels. “Not much lunch today.”
Jim came back over. “Refill, Sarge?”
“Nah, this is fine.”
“Okay.” A pause. “Is Pauline dead?”
“She is deceased, unfortunately,” Decker said.
“And you think this guy in the picture did it?”
“He’s a person of interest. Elsie Schulung is still missing, so she is also a person of interest.”
“I can’t see Elsie harming Pauline. They were … you know.”
“Involved,” McAdams said.
“Ye-ah. A surprise to me. Pauline liked men. But I guess she was a switch hitter. Who is this guy, by the way?”
“His name is Brock Baer,” Decker said. “How many times did you see him with Pauline?”
“Just the one time, as far as I can recall.”
Quay said, “If you happen to see him again, let me know.”
“No prob,” Jim said.
Decker said, “And you say they stayed here for around an hour?”
“About.”
“Do you remember when they left? The time?”
Jim thought a moment. “After ten probably. The place was still crowded.”
“Did you sense any tension between them when they left?”
“I don’t remember,” Jim told him. “I was busy. They weren’t yelling and screaming at each other, if that’s what you’re asking.” Another shout, calling for the bartender. People were coming in. “I’ve got to run.”
“Thanks so much. Just one more question,” Decker said. “Any idea where they’d go after they left the Mule?”
“Probably another bar,” Jim said. “They didn’t look like they were done for the night. You know, when people drink, it doesn’t take much to go from a good time to one too many.”
“Did they appear to have had one too many?” McAdams asked.
“I don’t remember perfectly, but I’d say they were on the edge,” Jim said. “Whatever happened doesn’t surprise me. Nothing surprises me anymore. I’m just glad that when trouble came, it wasn’t here.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Decker, McAdams, and Quay stood in front of a brick building with a wooden sign, the name TOBACCO’S ROAD burned black into the planks.
Quay said, “The place is bigger than the Mule. At this hour, things start to get busy. Don’t know how much we’ll get out of the bartender.”
A glance at his watch. It was half past six. Decker said, “Let’s go.”
As Quay predicted, there was a lively crowd. The atmosphere inside was dim and smoky. The bar was packed with patrons sitting elbow to elbow, drinking and eating and laughing. A big-screen TV was mounted on the wall with multiple images of baseball games. Scattered tables and chairs were positioned around three pool tables, all of them occupied.
