Flash and Bones - Kathy Reichs [16]
I played with Birdie. Made the bed. Took out the trash. Loaded laundry. Read the e-mails that I’d ignored. Checked a freckle on my shoulder for signs of melanoma.
Then, with a level of enthusiasm I reserve for flossing and waxing, I again phoned Summer.
To my dismay, she answered.
“Hi. This is Tempe.” I could hear voices in the background. Regis and Kelly? “Pete’s ex. Well, any day now.”
“I know who y’all are.” Summer had a drawl you could pour on pancakes.
“How’s it going?”
“Good.”
“Are you still working at Happy Paws?” Desperate for subject matter.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Defensive. “I’m a fully trained veterinary assistant.”
“It must be exhausting having a full-time job while trying to plan a big wedding.”
“Not everyone can be superwoman.”
“How right you are.” Cheerful as hell. “It’s going well?”
“Mostly.”
“Have you hired a planner?” I’d heard that she and Pete were inviting only a few thousand people.
I heard a quavery intake of breath.
“Is something wrong?”
“Petey’s being a grumpy-pants about every little thing.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Pete’s never been big on ceremony.”
“Until that changes, Mr. Grumpy-Pants won’t be foxtrotting at my prom. If you take my meaning.”
So the groom-to-be had lost playground privileges.
“Pete thought it might be good if we got to know each other,” I said.
Nothing but Regis and Kelly.
“If there’s any way I can help…” I let the offer hang, expecting a frosty rebuff.
“Could you talk to him?”
“About?”
“Showing proper interest.” Little-girl petulant. “When I ask what kind of flowers he wants, he says whatever. Cream or white linens on the tables? Whatever. Tinted or clear glass in the hurricane lamps? Whatever. He acts like he doesn’t care.”
Who would? I thought.
“I’m sure he trusts your judgment,” I said.
“Pretty please?”
I pictured Summer with her overdeveloped breasts and underdeveloped brain. Marveled again at the folly of middle-aged men.
“OK,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”
The line beeped. I checked the screen. Slidell.
“I’m sorry, Summer. I have to take an incoming call.”
I couldn’t disconnect fast enough.
“I pulled Eddie’s book for the fall of ’ninety-eight. Your MPs are in there. Cindi Gamble, seventeen, Cale Lovette, twenty-four. Last seen at the Charlotte Motor Speedway on October fourteenth. They were attending some big-ass race.”
“The Speedway is located in Cabarrus County,” I said. “Why did Eddie and Galimore catch the case?”
“Apparently the girl’s parents called it in here. Then Kannapolis asked the Charlotte PD to stay in. You want to hear this or what?”
As frequently happened when dealing with Slidell, my upper and lower molars started reaching for each other.
“Gamble and Lovette were an item. He worked at the track. She was a senior at A. L. Brown High in Kannapolis.”
Slidell paused. I could tell he was skimming, which meant this might take the rest of the morning.
“The girl’s parents are listed as Georgia and James Gamble. Brother Wayne. According to the mother, Cindi left home around ten that morning to go to the track.” Pause. “Good student. No problems with drugs or alcohol. That checked out solid.
“The boy’s mother is listed as Katherine Lovette. Father’s Craig Bogan. Kid left home at his normal time, seven a.m. Records showed he clocked in for the job, didn’t clock out.
“A maintenance worker name of Grady Winge saw the MPs around six that night. Lovette was talking to a male subject unknown to Winge. Gamble and Lovette drove off with the subject in a ’sixty-five Petty-blue Mustang with a lime-green decal on the windshield on the passenger side. What the hell’s Petty blue?”
“Was the car traced?” I asked.
“Winge didn’t get a plate.”
Pause. I could almost hear Skinny reading with his finger.
“Lovette hung with a group of right-wing nutballs called themselves the Patriot Posse. Militia types. The feds had him and his buddies under surveillance. I’m guessing they were hoping for a lead to Eric Rudolph.”