The woman on the screen, the “Disappearing Wife,” seemed oblivious to the fact that she was about to disappear off the face of the earth. This was evidence for me. It was telling. She didn’t seem fearful. Indeed, she even casually looked down at her cell phone at some point.
“Would give my left nut to know what she was looking at on her cell phone,” said Detective Sharp.
“Too quick to read a text message,” I said.
Sharp nodded. “Renaldo pulled her text records. Nothing around that time. Sent or received.”
“Maybe she was looking at the time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“No,” said Sharp. “Looks to me like she was expecting to hear from someone, and didn’t. She looks, I dunno, sort of disappointed.”
I was impressed with Jason Sharp. The “Disappearing Wife” was wearing sunglasses, and so there wasn’t much to work with there, as far as discerning her emotions. But, admittedly, I got a sense that she had been disappointed as well. The way she exhaled slightly. The way she paused slightly in mid-step, as if she thought she had just received a message.
“I agree,” I said. “Replay it.”
He did, using a dial next to the keyboard. He turned it slightly, and the video went back two or three seconds and started again immediately. Yes, there it was again. She virtually jumped when she reached for her phone. And then I saw why.
“The person coming toward her,” I said. “Look.”
He replayed the video again. A man, maybe twenty yards away and coming toward her, reached for his own cell phone just as she reached for hers.
“His phone rang,” I said. “Or beeped or chirped.”
The detective nodded. “She thought it might be hers.”
“Right,” I said.
“Except, of course, what are the chances his cell phone sounded like her cell phone?”
“Not a very good chance,” I said.
“Which means she was jumpy,” said the detective. “Reacting to any sound she heard.”
“Almost as if she was nervous about something,” I said.
Sharp nodded. His pointed nose waved through the air like a maestro’s wand. “Or nervous about someone,” he said. “Except, where does that get us?”
“Nowhere yet,” I said. “But it’s a start.”
“A start is something.”
“I agree. Can I see her text history?” I asked.
I didn’t need to prompt the young detective. “Don’t see why not. The wife’s been missing for nearly a month now, and we’ve got nothing.”
“You’ve got me,” I said.
“A private dick with no di—” He caught himself.
“Good catch,” I said.
“Er, sorry.”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before, Detective,” I said. “Wanna keep watching?”
He nodded and rolled the video.
Chapter Fourteen
We watched her cross the parking lot and enter the Starbucks with no fanfare. She didn’t speak with anyone and kept her head down. Once inside, through the smoked glass, we lost track of her.
“Interior footage?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I knew this, of course. Everyone knew this. I nodded.
He added, “They have since installed an interior camera. Too little, too late.”
I nodded again, and for the next two hours, we watched my client appear and disappear out of the screen, going inside, searching outside, circling the building. Covering his mouth and calling loudly. He looked like a crazy man. He also looked like a man who had lost his wife.
We backtracked the video, going over it frame by frame, studying everyone coming in and going out. But no one looked like her—or even looked like her in disguise. There was no one unaccountable, either. Meaning, a man with a beard didn’t suddenly emerge who hadn’t already come in.
Later, the police came, searching the exterior and interior, taking statements, and taking photos.
“Police checked behind the counter, the back room, even the freezer. Everywhere. No one saw her go back there, and they had like seven employees working at the time. Seven. What coffee shop has seven fucking employees working at one time?”
“Is this a trick question?”
He ignored me and backtracked again. We both were taking copious notes.
“Husband doesn’t come into view until...” Sharp checked his notes. “Until fourteen minutes after she goes in. Almost fifteen. If you ask me, that seems like a reasonable amount of time to come looking for your wife. It doesn’t seem, you know, suspicious.”
I nodded.
“The police come,” he checked the notes again, “thirty-two minutes after she disappears. All normal stuff, if you ask me.”
“Normal, except she hasn’t been seen since.”
We both stared at Henry on the screen, who was now frozen in mid-yell, one hand cupping his mouth, the other shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. The disappearance had happened just after noon.
After a moment, Sharp said, “Husband’s been taking some heat.”
“Shouldn’t be. It’s obvious that he’s at a loss, too.”
“Unless he’s in on something? Or unless they’re in on something together.”
“Magic tricks?” I asked. “Teleporting into alternate dimensions?”
“No one asked for a comedian. In fact, he hired you. You talked to him, face to face. What’s your gut say?”
I decided against mentioning the fact that I had dipped inside Henry’s memory and therefore, knew he was innocent. Instead, I settled for, “I believe him.”
Sharp looked at me, and then gave me a short nod. “I haven’t talked to him yet, but I know Renaldo wasn’t too hung up on him, although...”
“Although what?”
“There was a history of violence between them.”
“Oh?”
“Police were called twice in the last two years. Both times by neighbors. Both times, he was given a warning.”
“No arrests?”
“No violence. According to the reports, he never touched her. Just a lot of yelling.”
“Doesn’t seem like a lead,” I said.
“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s something.”
“Something,” I said, “is better than nothing.”
“They teach you that in private eye school?”