فصل 08 - بخش 07

8

He and Jeannie put the groceries away together. When the chore was done, he told her he wanted her to look at something on his phone.

‘Why?’

‘Just take a look, okay? And remember that the person in the photo is quite a bit older now.’

He handed her his phone. She stared at the mug shot for ten seconds, then handed it back. Her cheeks had lost all their color.

‘It’s him. His hair is shorter now, and he’s got a full goatee instead of that little mustache, but that’s the man who was in our house last night. The one who said he’d kill you if you didn’t stop. What’s his name?’

‘Claude Bolton.’

‘Are you going to arrest him?’

‘Not yet. Not sure I could, even if I wanted to, being on administrative leave and all.’

‘Then what are you going to do?’

‘Right now? Find out where he is.’

His first thought was to call Yune back, but Yune was digging away on the Dayton killer, Holmes. His second idea, quickly rejected, was Jack Hoskins. The man was a drunk and a blabbermouth. But there was a third choice.

He called the hospital, was informed that Betsy Riggins had gone home with her little bundle of joy, and reached her there. After asking how the new baby was doing (thus provoking a ten-minute rundown on everything from breast feeding to the high cost of Pampers), he asked her if she would mind helping a brother out by making a call or maybe two in her official capacity. He told her what he wanted.

‘Is this about Maitland?’ she asked.

‘Well, Betsy, considering my current situation, that’s sort of a don’t ask, don’t tell kind of deal.’

‘If it is, you could get in trouble. And I could get in trouble for helping you.’

‘If it’s Chief Geller you’re worried about, he won’t hear it from me.’

There was a long pause. He waited her out. Finally she said, ‘I felt bad for Maitland’s wife, you know. Really bad. She made me think of those TV news stories about the aftermath of suicide bombings, survivors walking around with blood in their hair and no idea of what just happened. Could this maybe help her out?’

‘It’s possible,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to go any further than that.’

‘Let me see what I can do. John Zellman isn’t a total asshole, and that town line titty-bar of his needs a new license to operate every year. That might incline him to be helpful. I’ll call you back if I strike out. If it goes the way I think it will, he’ll call you.’

‘Thanks, Betsy.’

‘This stays between us, Ralph. I’m counting on having a job to come back to when my maternity leave is over. Tell me you hear that.’

‘Loud and clear.’