“Napoli told me there was a national network of detectives who specialized in looking for missing children. Subscription was a thousand dollars for the first year, five hundred every year after that. The money was supposed to buy access to hundreds of files and contacts. No such outfit existed. Napoli took the money, and another thousand I paid him for investigation, and left town.”
He smiled. “I don’t regret my foolishness. “Hope maketh not ashamed.’ After Napoli swindled me, I went to a third firm, one that advertised finding missing people within forty-eight hours. They took a consultation fee and said all that could be done, had been.”
“After the first one, why’d you hire someone out in Hollywood?”
“I was hoping someone from the outside could see clearer. Barnard was slow. Very easygoing. All of Malibu seemed that way, people smiling but moving very slowly. I’d never been to California, wasn’t used to it.”
“When did you move out here?”
“Two years later. Permanently, that is. Before that, I was coming out every two months for a couple of weeks at a time. I stayed in motels or lived in a rented car, driving up and down the coast every day, from Manhattan Beach to Santa Barbara. Once I went as far north as San Simeon. Every canyon or state park I’d pass, I’d drive through, walk around, talking to the rangers, ground crews, campers, anyone. It became my job. My business suffered. Then Mrs. Best developed an aneurysm and died and I sold what was left of the business and came here to settle. Craig and Taffy were starting out, and I let them live in the house. A few years later, they bought it. It was a good time for me to leave—they needed their own life and I wanted to devote myself to looking for Karen. I spent ten hours a day in the car. Hoping one day I’d run into her somewhere. Maybe she’d lost her memory and was . . . somewhere.”
He pushed the cookies away. “What does your witness remember?”
“Just what I told you, Reverend.”
“A young girl being carried away by some men. That’s vague.”
“Yes, it is, and I’m sorry I can’t promise you it means anything.”
I tried to return the data sheet.
“No, that’s a copy. Take it, I’ve got plenty.”
I folded it and put it in my pocket.
“A young girl,” he said. “Long dark hair, long legs—when Karen was a little girl we used to call her Storkie. For Stork. Where does your witness—is it a man or a woman?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
He frowned. “Where does this witness think this abduction occurred?”
“Some sort of rustic site. Maybe a log cabin. Trees all around.”
He pressed his belly against the table edge. “You’re a police psychologist. You could hypnotize this person, couldn’t you? That helps with memory.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Why not a probability?”
“The witness is in a fragile state of mind.”
“How fragile?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t say any more.”
“Yes, yes, of course, sorry . . . but you are going to follow up.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, Reverend.”
“You work for the police department?”
“I’m a private consultant. The witness is a patient of mine. A police detective is aware of what I’m doing, but it’s not official yet.”
The bulging eyes narrowed. “Why are you going to all this trouble?”
“To help my patient.”
He looked at me for a long time.
“You’re a devoted fellow.”
I shrugged.
He fiddled with his glasses, looked at his coffee, but didn’t touch it.
“I highly advise that you find some way to talk to Gwen and Tom Shea. On the sheet she’s listed by her maiden name, Peet, but they’re married now. They worked with Karen at the Sand Dollar. Worked with her that last shift. I’ve always felt they knew more than they let on.”
“Why’s that?”
“The way they acted when I spoke to them—shifty, nervous. Felix Barnard said they seemed innocent to him. So did the sheriffs. They were both local kids, good reputations, neither had any sort of criminal record. But I’ll tell you one thing: When I asked them about Karen, they couldn’t look me in the eye. They’d been friends with her; Gwen waited tables, Tom tended bar. Why would talking about her make them uncomfortable? And they left the restaurant just a few minutes after Karen did. Karen was walking, but they were in a car. Doesn’t it make sense that they would have overtaken her?”