Christ Clone (14 page)

They'd arranged to meet at Denny's, a diner close to the police station. Malone actually liked the menu, and always asked to sit in a booth. He'd arrived early and ordered himself a Super Bird sandwich, fries, and a coffee; he asked for the coffee now, and the sandwich to be delivered when his friend joined him. Opening a file, he started to review his own investigation. Whichever way he looked at it, he had nothing.

Logan arrived a little late as usual. 'Traffic was bad,' he said flippantly as he sat down opposite.

Malone looked up at him and smiled. The men shook hands, and
Logan called the waitress over and ordered a coffee.

'So what have you got there, Malone? Looks like you've been very busy.'

Malone shook his head. 'I've got nothing, really nothing. I was hoping you'd have something for me.'

The waitress returned with the coffee and the food, and asked
Logan if he wanted anything to eat. He declined.

'Stomach still acting up?' Malone asked

'Burns like an inferno. Where were we?'

'Like I said, I've followed up on everything I can, and I've come up with zip. I wanted to see you today, just to get some form of update
— literally anything for me to go forward with.' Malone's eyes looked red and tired.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Logan looked solemn. 'I don't know what to tell you. I've assisted on the Salinas case; the officers are doing the best they can. Word on the street is that you've been busy visiting plumbers.'

Malone looked embarrassed.

'We're pretty sure the guy isn't a plumber.'

'Yeah I know, but I had to do something. The Salinases — did you get anything else from them?'

'No. The thing is, Malone, they know nothing. We dug into their past and they're clean. They even offered to take a polygraph; I guessed that was something you told them to do. Truth is, they were very cooperative. I wish you went to see all the families of recent abductions.'
He quickly retracted the last statement. 'Sorry man, I wasn't thinking.'

Malone waved it away. 'I'm glad to be of service.'

'The neighbours, relatives and friends, all came up negative. The plumbing truck was a dead end. She's disappeared without a trace.
There seems to be no logical reason, nothing to link her to anything or anyone we know. She seems to be another unsolved statistic and I'm sorry I can't dress this up any nicer.'

'What about the brooch?' Malone had an idea that it was going to be nothing, but he thought he'd ask anyway.

'There's a good one. One of the stores in the mall called Aviary's runs a promotion as part of their sale week. They give them away free, a gift with purchase deal, a choice of three different designs. We spent a couple of days on that one,' Logan smiled.

Malone leaned back in his seat, pushing his plate away.

'So it seems like it's another Malone wild-goose chase then.'

'Don't be like that, you couldn't have known; you followed your instincts, and I have to tell you, you've given me renewed enthusiasm for my job. I even managed to get a lead on a case that's been all but
. . .' Looking over at Malone, Logan decided not to continue.

Malone was quiet for a moment, and then took a deep breath. 'To be honest, Logan, I'm strangely okay about all of this; my daughter's gone, and I need to move on.'

The men stood and shook hands again. Logan made a move to leave, then turned back to Malone. 'By the way, are you still on the wagon?'

'We made a pact didn't we?' He smiled and walked out.

Malone finished up his coffee and decided to take a trip around to the Salinases, he felt the need to bring them up to speed about the brooch and see if he could be of any help, even if it was just being another person for them to talk to.

Standing outside the Los Angeles Missing Persons' Office, Malone used his reflection in the window to straighten his tie. For the past week he'd been going over Logan's comment about him being helpful to the Salinases, and had finally decided to act on it. He'd spent a lot of time here at Missing Persons in the past, and their information and advice had helped to keep him on track — in the first year of his daughter's disappearance anyway.

The appointment was set for ten o'clock. He checked his watch and went in. The office was smaller than he remembered, and its open-plan layout meant he was in the thick of things from the moment he entered. There was a lot of activity for such an early hour, and he wondered if this was the case every day. At the far end of the room a woman was printing and copying posters; almost everyone else was on the phone, either listening or giving advice.

'Are you Michael Malone?' a woman called.

Malone nodded.

She was a buxom woman and looked to Malone like a hospital matron. She wore a frumpy floral dress, and judging by her looks,
Malone figured she didn't spend much time on herself — certainly not on her makeup. But he felt immediately she had a warm look about her.

'I'll be right with you, take a seat.' She pointed towards some office chairs against the wall, and continued her conversation on the phone.

Malone dutifully sat down.

'Veronica Nash!' she announced as she approached Malone with her hand extended.

'Bit of a madhouse today,' Malone said as he shook her hand.

'Bit of a madhouse every day!' she replied with a smile.

This statement pretty much answered Malone's earlier question.

'There's a small office out the back, or we can go across the road to
Starbucks, away from the madness.'

It wasn't a difficult choice for either of them so Malone waited while Veronica picked up some forms and a notepad, and they left the office.

They ordered their drinks and took seats in the café's comfortable armchairs. Veronica let out a big sigh, put the forms down on the table and slumped back in her chair.

'Well, Mr Malone, I've done some background checking on you, and
I must say you seem like the perfect volunteer. A priest with firsthand experience in child loss, and according to the Salinases, you've already been a great help to them.'

Malone blushed a little before answering. 'I need to correct you on a couple of things there. First, my current occupation can be summed up as between jobs, and as for the Salinases, I think they've helped me more than the other way around. Which, I guess, is why I'm here.'

Veronica laughed at his modesty.

Their drinks were called and Malone went to get them.

When he returned, Veronica continued, 'Mr Malone, I won't beat around the bush, you'd be a welcome asset to the team. I'd love to have you on board. All you have to do is fill out these forms and say goodbye to your sanity.' She smiled as she offered him the forms and a pen.

Malone paused a moment, then took the pen from her.

Back in the office, Malone was introduced to everyone. He knew he wouldn't be able to remember all their names. Veronica handed him a pile of pamphlets and told him to take them to a desk and review them. He sat down and started to read.

The first pamphlet was the charity's mission statement. It was simple — to offer practical help and advice to the families of missing people. Another pamphlet opened with some appalling facts about the number of people who were reported missing in America in one year. It wasn't far off the one million mark. Of that number, the FBI estimated, approximately eight hundred thousand were juveniles.
Malone did the math in his head — over two thousand kids a day. His heart sank.

He flicked quickly through the rest of the information. It wasn't that it didn't interest him, or even the fact he already knew the majority of it. It was just that he wanted to do something, rather than just read about it. The charity focused on missing children, in particular the ones who had been taken, rather than the ones who had left. The headings ranged from Non-Family Abductions and Family Abductions to a twenty-five-step checklist of what to do if you were looking for someone who had gone missing.

The main message coming through in all the literature was that the first forty-eight hours were the most important.

Veronica came over and patted Malone on the back. 'How's the information sinking in?' she asked.

'More of a refresher course really . . .' Malone tried not to sound bored, but Veronica picked up on it.

'Okay Action Man, I think we need to get you onto a project as soon as possible. We need to train you up before we let you loose on client counselling, so in the meantime, what are you like at fundraising?'

'Well, it's been a while, but I'm sure it'll come back to me.' Malone wasn't going to give up the opportunity to get started, and was willing to do anything to keep occupied.

The job was simple but repetitive. The older lady Veronica passed him on to went to great lengths to explain their system, an explanation that should have taken anyone under the age of a hundred less than five minutes.

'This box contains the cards with the blue stickers on them. The blue stickers mean they are companies. You take the card out and review the details on it. The details are company name, address, and most importantly, the telephone number. Under the telephone number is the contact that we have for the company . . .'

Her voice was a low-pitched monotone, and Malone's interest had started to drift. Every now and then he would nod or grunt to give her the feeling he was interested and listening.

Malone didn't even notice when she finally finished.

'I said, are there any questions?' she repeated.

So basically, you take the company list, call the companies, speak to the Personnel or Marketing Department, and ask for a donation.
Not exactly rocket science! It was perhaps just as well Malone said this in his head. 'No, I think you've managed to cover it all, and in such great detail. Thanks for your help,' he said aloud, and smiled at her. If she noticed his sarcasm she didn't show it.

There were a few legal requirements Malone needed to be aware of, and as these were the things the old woman had struggled with, he was passed back to Veronica. Once these were covered, Malone started on the phone and quickly got into the swing of things. The list of companies in the LA area was endless, and the donations were few and far between, but he didn't care. He was doing something.

Six o'clock came around very quickly. Malone didn't know where the time had gone.

Veronica sat down next to him and let out a big sigh. 'How's your day been?' she asked.

Malone's sigh was the equal of Veronica's. 'Seems like that's the first breath I've taken all day.'

'I don't feel like rushing home. Do you feel like grabbing a spot of dinner?' Veronica's invitation sounded good, and as if on cue,
Malone's tummy rumbled.

'I guess we all agree,' he laughed.

They went down the block to a small Italian restaurant and were seated near the window. The aroma of roasted garlic mixed with rosemary and oregano made Malone's mouth water. They ordered quickly and waited in silence until the drinks appeared. Veronica asked for a glass of Chianti and Malone had a sparkling mineral water; they toasted Malone's first day and started on some on the house garlic bread.

'So how long have you been with the charity, Veronica?'

'It will be ten years next month,' she announced with a sense of pride.

'Wow, you're a lifer!' Malone hid his astonishment behind a joke.

Veronica took a breath, preparing herself to give Malone the condensed version of her story; she could add in the details over time.
'Something like that. Like most of the volunteers here, I lost my child a long time ago . . .'

Malone was about to say he was sorry to hear about her loss when
Veronica continued, ' . . . but mine is a story with a happy ending —
I got her back.'

Malone felt a quick flash of both happiness and envy. 'That's great news,' he said, hoping the jealousy didn't show.

Veronica fumbled through her bag for a picture of her daughter, a well-fed girl who looked like she was about thirteen. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes.

'She has your eyes,' Malone said, grasping for something nice to say.

Veronica stared at the photograph before and putting it away again.
'She was taken from me for just over six years. My husband had left me well before her abduction, so Anne-Marie was all I had.'

Malone looked at the wedding band on her finger.

'Oh, that's my current husband. It sounds so strange when I say it like that. He came on the scene after Anne-Marie's return. My life has changed so much for the better since she returned, which is why I say,
never
give up hope.'

Malone looked up at the waitress as she presented their food.
Spaghetti and meatballs were a standard Malone Italian order; he was a self-confessed creature of habit. He rolled his first mouthful of pasta and asked, 'So, how did you find her?'

'Well, in a roundabout sort of way, she found me. It turned out she was abducted to order. The couple were from Texas, and couldn't conceive their own child. They'd been turned down as adoptive parents and after all the controversy with celebrities and Russian babies, Immigration had closed that window of opportunity as well.
There are people you can go and see who will, for a price, acquire a child for you. You can specify the child you want: boy, girl, skin colour, even down to the hair and eye colour for that matter.'

Malone had heard this sort of thing before, but had never met anyone who'd been involved. He'd always thought of it as an urban myth, the kind of horror story that belonged on TV.

'I was stupid; Anne-Marie had been out of my sight for less than a minute in the park. I'd turned to talk to one of the other mothers, turned back, and she was gone. No one saw anything and, of course,
I blamed myself. But the reality is these guys are professional kidnappers and stopping them is very difficult, almost impossible. Anyway,
Anne-Marie grew up with her new family; she was only two when she was taken so she didn't know any different.'

Malone was listening intently.

'As luck would have it, the reason that couple had been turned down for adoption in the first place was that they'd had two prior domestic violence charges. Then one night, about five years ago, the police were called to a big fight the couple had gotten into with their neighbours. I forget who was actually at fault, but the officer involved decided to run priors. Something just didn't add up for him.
When I spoke to him later, he said it was just a gut feeling. He ended up calling child support, and they came and interviewed the couple.
The rest, as they say, is history. It was a combination of great gut instinct, good police work, and fantastic inter-departmental communication
. . . which is why we're pushing so hard for computer system and database integration; it will take away the need for gut feelings.'
Veronica took a big gulp of her red wine, and proposed a toast to both agencies; Malone clinked his glass against hers.

***

Several weeks had passed and Malone had settled into his role. He'd formed a good working relationship with Veronica and quite often they would slip out for coffee to discuss various cases or sometimes just a quick pep talk. The Italian restaurant was the special place they went if the day had been particularly tough, or had gone very well.

This particular day they had a cause for celebration. They'd received word that a big company had agreed to give them their entire allocation of sponsorship funds for the year. It meant big bucks. They started by celebrating the good news, but as the meal progressed the subject somehow turned to Malone's use of a private investigator and a clairvoyant to look for his daughter.

'The PI called us quite soon after Mary's face was put on national
TV. He called on our home line and came around that day. His credentials seemed fine, and he told us he specialized in the return of teen agers. He even listed the names of children he'd found. Hindsight being the wonderful thing it is, we realized later we should've got all of it down on paper and called the families for reference.' Malone paused for a moment, then continued, 'We organized a retainer of fifteen hundred dollars a month, and he told us it probably wouldn't take more than a couple of months. There would be expenses on top of that fee, but again he didn't think they'd amount to much. The first few days he called us a lot. He told us his contacts were out on the street ferreting and gathering intelligence. The first week's expenses were low, a few faxes and some cash claims to loosen mouths. Then, late in the second week, he called — very excited — and told us the trail was leading him to Miami. He needed to get a flight there in the morning, would we cover the expenses? Of course we said yes. This turned out to be a false alarm. That bill was seven hundred and fifty bucks. The second month's calls were less, but the expenses were more. We were naïve, and the total cost came to over twelve grand. All the leads sounded legitimate at the time, and we just couldn't say no. But, as hard as it was to do it, we didn't go to a third month with him.'

Veronica shook her head in anger. 'They're nasty parasites,' she said through her teeth.

Malone was a little taken aback by her anger, but he agreed with the sentiment. 'Then there was the clairvoyant,' he said. 'Looking back, I can see the clairvoyant was hysterical. You truly never know how desperate you can become until you're in this situation. Out of the blue, we got a call from a psychic who'd had a vision about Mary, and could she come around and tell us about it. I flat out refused; it went against my whole belief system. There was no way I would ever agree to such an outrageous request. But my wife, Barbara, always seemed to have a way of talking me around. So, after a few days of often heated discussion I, of course, gave in. The very next day this hippy-looking woman arrived, fresh out of the circus. She was armed with candles, incense sticks, and Tarot cards — everything but the crystal ball. She asked us for a thousand dollars; it seemed the spirits needed funding too. After our experience with the PI, we wanted proof first. She told us a couple of personal things about Mary, things only Mary would know. Her favourite singer, friends' names and so on, but nothing that would inspire us to part with our cash. Then she brought up a horseback riding accident Mary had as a child. This was all the proof my wife needed to convince her. I'm still not sure where she got the information, maybe luck, or maybe she
was
a true psychic.
To cut a long story short, she supplied us with a list of leads that, with the help of the LAPD, we found to be totally fruitless.'