The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,45
as she realized what she had just said. “Sorry, Gerald. I take back the ‘stupid’ part.”
Gerald didn’t answer as he turned onto the highway.
Lucy picked up her cell phone and dialed 411.
“What are you doing?” Gerald asked.
“I’m going to get Patsy Burke’s phone number. I want to listen to her answering-machine message.”
“That’s not going to get you anywhere. The cops will just pick the phone up.”
“I’ll hang up.”
“Ever hear of star-69?”
“Does that work on cell phones?”
“Do you really want to find out?”
“Goddammit,” Lucy said as she slapped her phone shut. She tapped her knee against the door. “Gerald, turn around,” she said suddenly.
“What for?” he asked without slowing down.
“I can talk to the friend, that neighbor lady, the one who called us. I bet she knows if Patsy Burke was Scanner Lady.”
“It’s no good,” Gerald said. “They had her inside in one of the bedrooms. Didn’t you see her?”
Lucy hadn’t seen anything in the house; she had been so focused on Garcia and the answering machine.
She looked out at the highway, watching the Burger Kings, Albertsons, and Jiffy Lubes go by. She stared at the brown van driving in front of them. The make of the van was indeterminate; it was just old. On the back window was written KLASSY VAN in silver letters, because nothing says classy like using a K to misspell a word. As they passed the van, she looked at the driver, who was busily gesturing into his cell phone.
“Gerald,” she said without looking at him, “what do you do if you think you got someone killed?”
Gil was on his way to check on Maxine Baca when he got a page. As the dispatcher put it, “There’s a woman at the office who is anxious to see you.” What the dispatcher meant was that the woman was being difficult.
As he pulled into the parking lot he saw the editor from the newspaper leaning against a gray Toyota Camry. What was her name again? Something Newroe. Where had he put her business card?
“Ms. Newroe, how can I help you?”
She took a deep breath, and Gil wondered if it was to calm herself or for courage.
“Detective, I need to talk to you.” She ran a hand through her dark blond hair. “It’s connected to what we talked about yesterday, but now it’s of a personal nature, not a professional one, so I’m not here as a journalist but as a … Oh hell, I don’t know what I’m here as. God, I’m not making any sense.” She smiled, laughing at herself.
Gil realized that she was nervous. “We can go inside….”
“No, no, please, let’s stay out here.” The suggestion had upset her.
“Okay. Well, there’s a bench over there.” They sat down near some bushes.
She breathed deeply again before starting. “I know this whole thing is going to sound odd, but please bear with me.” She looked at him, and he nodded. He stopped himself from saying anything more. He wanted to comfort her and calm her down.
She continued. “So, okay, besides being an editor at the paper I’m sort of a volunteer medic with the county, over at Piñon—just so you know that. Just a few hours ago, we get a page out to this house where we find this dead lady named Patsy Burke. We call the sheriff and everything and they say she’s been murdered.” She stopped, inhaling again. “Here’s the weird part that you’re going to think I’m a freak for even considering: she had a scanner turned on in her house.”
Gil watched her watch him. She seemed to have calmed down now that she was telling the story.
She continued without waiting for him to comment. “I know this whole thing is a long shot, but what if she is Scanner Lady? That tipster I told you about? I mean, it could be. The only way for me to know for sure is to hear her voice, but the deputies wouldn’t let me. I just wanted to hear her voice on the answering machine, to rule out the possibility it’s her, you know?”
“You explained all this to the deputies?” Gil asked. She nodded. “And they wouldn’t let you listen to the answering machine?” She shook her head.
“Who’s in charge of the investigation?” he asked.
“Major Garcia,” she said, with a hint of bitterness. He knew Garcia. He was a good investigator.
“What does he think happened?”
“A botched burglary.”
“Ms. Newroe, it seems you should be talking to the sheriff’s office, not with me.”