Christ Clone (7 page)

Mrs Salinas gripped her husband's hand tightly. Her eyes were red and sore from crying. For Malone, she once again went over the events leading up to the disappearance of her daughter. 'I've already told the police all of this; why haven't they found her?' The frustration was rising in her voice.

'I'm sure the police are doing all they can, Mrs Salinas,' Malone replied with a slight hint of pessimism. 'As I've explained to both of you, the specific things I'm interested in are the details of the van, and of Mary herself.'

Malone had dressed in his black suit and dog collar before going to see the Salinases. Half the morning he'd brooded over it before finally deciding it would be for the best. After almost five years, the mere sight of the clothing, hanging in the closet, filled his stomach with butterflies.
Having turned his back on religion when he'd put these things away, he felt like a traitor as he laid them on the bed, contemplated dressing in them again. The clothing had felt alien when he put it on, particularly the collar. It was so tight around his neck it almost choked him. He could almost believe there was some form of sacrilege involved, rather than just his weight gain.

He'd decided that wearing the clerical collar would be the best way for him to conduct this day's work. As it turned out, it had helped him over the Salinas' doorstep, but he couldn't keep up the façade and had soon explained his real reason for being there. His honesty had struck an immediate chord with the couple, and although there were still a few tense moments, the three of them had talked very openly.

'Well, Mrs Kirby from across the road saw the van, so you'll need to talk with her about that. All we know is that it was a beige plumber's van. She didn't get the license plate number or see the driver. What's the point of being a nosy neighbour if you don't pick up all the details?
She's always got plenty of information when it comes to gossip on other subjects!' Mrs Salinas was starting to work herself up again; her husband gently stroked her hand.

Malone wrote Mrs Kirby's name in his notepad. 'Do you have her street address?' he asked.

'Number 26, straight across the road. The house with the twitching curtain,' Mrs Salinas snapped. 'Sorry,' she added.

Malone put his notepad away and looked at the couple. He had the feeling he was looking at a reflection of himself years ago. He knew far too well what they were going through.

Realizing they had nothing more to add about the van, he changed the subject. 'What is Mary like? I mean, I know what she looks like, but I would like to know more about her as an individual. Is she a good student? Not just with her grades.'

Mr Salinas said, 'Mary's grades are good, she seems to sit around the A-minus to B-plus mark. What seems to bother her most though is that even though she tries so hard, she doesn't get to be the best in her class. Unfortunately she's in a class of really clever girls. I say unfortunately, but we actually picked it ourselves, we really wanted to push her academically. I guess we've been a little hard about that, but we both believe that the Devil makes work for idle hands.'

Mr Salinas blushed a little when he realized what he'd just said.
'Ahem, well you know what I mean. We just felt, feel, we both
feel
, that a good education is the best start you can give your child.'

Malone nodded. 'What about her friends? Who are they and what are they like?' Even as he asked, he knew he'd been unable to answer this question all those years ago. His wife used to handle all of that.

'Tammy Styles is her best friend. She's a good kid too. They're almost inseparable; they're usually either at her house or around here.
Though sometimes they do go to the mall on a Saturday and meet up with some of their friends there.'

'Which mall?'

'Glendale Galleria.'

Malone's pulse increased at the name of the mall. It was the first link between the two Marys he'd discovered since meeting the
Salinases.

'Other than that, they just do girl stuff together,' Mr Salinas continued.
'That's why I can only believe someone has taken her, rather than her running away as some of the police seem to think.' His eyes were starting to fill up again at the thought of someone taking his daughter.

'We found a diary hidden under her bed. We went through it with the police,' Mrs Salinas added.

'Did you find anything important inside?' Malone asked, desperate to discover if there were any more similarities with his own daughter.

'She was keen on a boy called Tom. We don't know who he is but the police are following up on him through Tammy. Tammy knows who he is, but even she didn't know that Mary has a crush on him.'
Mrs Salinas said the last bit in a very defensive manner, as if Mary's best friend not knowing about her daughter's crush made her feel better about the gaps in her own knowledge.

'She'd also written about feeling of bored here, living in this suburb, and other little things like what she wants to do when she grows up — which incidentally is to be flight attendant.'

'What did the LAPD say about all of that?'

'That's when they said she could be a runaway — due to the boredom,'
she trailed off.

'It's just their way of keeping all options open; they need to investigate all possibilities. But I'm sure they realize she's not a runaway.'
Malone said reassuringly.

Other than the same shopping mall, there was nothing Malone could link to his own Mary. 'Look, I know this is none of my business, and tell me so if you like, but as you know, I have been and am still going through your torment.'

The Salinases' tension relaxed a little.

'I have a few suggestions that you might like to hear.'

'Please, anything you can say or do,' Mrs Salinas said. 'We're going out of our minds here.'

Malone composed himself before starting. Having read all the self-help pamphlets there were to read, he knew the information verbatim.
'At the moment, you'll be feeling completely helpless; the LAPD will be making sure you stay around here answering questions about Mary when all you want to do is be out there searching for her. Believe me, the more information you can give them now, the better it is for their search. Have they asked you to take a polygraph yet?'

'A lie detector test? What for?' As Mr Salinas asked he shook his head; he looked shocked as well as perplexed at the question.

'I know it sounds awful, but the sooner you and everyone close to
Mary are no longer suspects, the faster they can spread the search net.
Request it yourself — as soon as possible — and get all your immediate family and friends to come with you.'

The Salinases were now leaning forward on the couch, still holding hands. They were listening intently.

'I take it you have the phone system sorted out: recording device, the Track and Trace from the LAPD, and a mobile for when you are out of the house?'

They eagerly nodded in unison.

'Have you considered a reward?'

'The lead detective said it was too soon for that,' Mrs Salinas said in a way that seemed to question if he was right.

'The LAPD know what they're on about in that regard, so I'd trust their judgement.' Malone's tone changed. 'On a personal note, you both need to keep up your strength. Eat and sleep well; if you can't eat, try different meal times and different locations, and if a full night's sleep is difficult, grab small naps during the day. As for your emotions, they're going to be on a rollercoaster ride: fear, anger, and grief — with huge surges of hope thrown in. It's important to remain strong — and
please
don't blame each other, none of this is your fault.'

They looked at each other, and then at the floor. Malone had touched a nerve; he knew they'd already reached that stage.

'One last thing — and I wish I could say it's easy to avoid — stay well away from alcohol and drugs.'

He pondered this statement himself for a moment, and then asked politely, 'Do you mind if I take a look at Mary's room?'

The room was a mirror image of his Mary's — not so much the decor, but from the parents' point of view. The bed was made, and he was sure there would be freshly laundered sheets. It was meticulously vacuumed and polished. From his experience, this was done for a couple of reasons. To give a clean, fresh welcome to their daughter on her return, a sort of fresh start whatever the reason for her disappearance.
And it was a way to keep them both physically and mentally busy and close to their daughter — in some way close to her aura.

They stood in silence, taking in the sight of the room, each filled with their own thoughts. Then Malone came up with one other thing.
'You'll probably be approached by some PIs and psychics, they seem to be watching the news for people like us. They may even be a good idea, but please, I stress,
please
check their references and limit your expenditure with them. They can be a huge money pit . . .' He stopped at that point, but the Salinases would have guessed there was something else behind the warning.

The couple left Malone alone in their daughter's room, but he was too absorbed to notice their departure. He moved to her dressing table and picked up her jewellery box.

The lid was already open, and with his index finger he poked around the gold and silver-plated rings and chains. His mind wasn't on what he was doing. It was just a way to keep his hands busy while he scanned the room. A sudden jab to his finger brought his attention back to the box. He examined the tiny drop of blood on his finger and then looked into the box to find the culprit. Nestled among the shiny pieces of jewellery was the sharp point of a pin; as Malone pulled it out, he saw the brooch to which it was attached.

Malone's pulse raced as he recognized the item. Bright green and blue gemstones were set in the tail of a silver-plated peacock. The bird was facing forward, as if coming towards him, with its tail proudly open like a fan. Malone turned the brooch over to see if there were any markings on the back, any clue to its origin. But aside from the
Made in China sticker it was just plain silver. Turning it over again he looked at the gems; he assumed they were fake, but that wasn't his concern — what he wanted to know was where the brooch had come from. He turned to ask Mary's parents and realized they were no longer in the room. He went in search of the couple and found them sitting on their own bed, apparently deep in conversation.

'Pardon me for interrupting, but do either of you know where your daughter got this brooch?'

Startled, they turned towards Malone. He held the brooch out, eager for one of them to take it. Mrs Salinas obliged and turned it over in her hand before shaking her head. 'Sorry, I've never seen it before.' As she handed it to her husband, she asked. 'Where did you find it?'

'It was in her jewellery box. What about you?' Malone directed his question to Mr Salinas. He also shook his head.

'It's just that my daughter had the same piece among her things. I remember — when I saw it — not knowing where it had come from.
I just assumed her mother had bought it for her but now I'm not so sure. Do you mind if I take this with me?'

The Salinases, clearly eager to help in any way possible, agreed.

Malone felt he'd taken up enough of their time and told them he would be in touch with any information he uncovered.

As they walked to the door, Mrs Salinas spoke. 'Mr Malone, do you mind if we ask you something?' She looked shy. 'The police said we should get a counsellor to help us through the tough times and we wondered if, well, if you're not too busy, we wondered if . . . Would you be ours?'

The question took Malone aback; did he want to get involved in someone else's nightmare? But he looked at the lost expression on both faces and simply nodded.

Malone left the Salinases' house and walked across the road to the Kirbys'. He was shell-shocked both by the request and his acquiescence. Mentally shaking himself, he decided he'd somehow find a way to wriggle out of it; he had so much to do himself, without taking on their problems.

The Kirbys' house was big, and as he walked up the driveway towards their two-car garage he couldn't help but scan its contents. To the left of the garage was a compact Ford, somewhat engulfed Malone thought by the large garage. Behind the car was a washer and dryer, the washer making the usual pumping and agitating noises. The workbench had its fair share of tools, and in the middle there looked to be a small woodworking project on the go. Malone found himself smirking at the suburban normality of it all; this was followed by a small pang of jealousy and longing.

He went to the front door and rang the bell. An attractive woman in her late thirties opened it. Malone introduced himself and explained that he'd just met with the Salinases, and he wanted to ask her a few questions about the van.

'Phew, I thought for one minute you were the bearer of bad news for the Salinases. Do you have any news about Mary?'

'I'm sorry, no, I don't.'

Mrs Kirby invited him in and asked if he'd like a drink.

'Just a glass of water please,' he replied.

She went to the kitchen and, as Malone took a look around the room, he spotted the family photos above the fireplace and went to look at them. The shots were typical — mother, father, and two boys
— family shots at various locations, he guessed vacations. Plus the couple's wedding pictures and the boys' school photos.

He picked up a group shot of the family and was holding it when
Mrs Kirby returned; he felt a little guilty, as if he'd been caught stealing.
She handed him the water, and he handed her the photo. 'Nice family,' he said.

She thanked him and put the frame back on the mantelpiece. They took a seat and Malone asked her about the van. Make and model were all recorded, so he was after any minor details. 'I know you've gone through most of this with the LAPD, but I'd really like to know more specifics about the van. First, can you remember how long it was parked there?'

She thought about the question for a while before answering.
'Well, I'd just finished watching
Oprah
, so that would have been around three-thirty. It's funny, but in her program, well, it was all about happy neighbours and they had a bunch of people who were up for a neighbour-of-the-year award. Some of them had helped elderly neighbours with their yard and shopping and things, and some of them had organized street parties and fund-raising.'