Chapter 4
"Runch."
Velma rolled her eyes as she and Scooby walked into the restaurant, "We already had lunch on the way over. And we're not here for lunch, Scooby. We're here for a business meeting."
"I'm the ross, right?"
"Yes. You're the boss."
"The ross says runch two, the sequel."
"Can the boss say lunch two, the sequel after the meeting?"
"The ross says runch two, the sequel now."
"Could the boss say lunch two, the sequel after the meeting if he got a Scooby Snack?"
"Runch or a Scooby Snack? A devil's dilemma."
"Well?"
"Rokay."
Velma, like Daphne, had learned to keep a baggie of Scooby Snacks in her purse for bribery purposes.
Like always, Scooby's entrance into the restaurant caused a stir and no sooner had they found a table and sat down than a young man of about twenty approached the table, "Hi. I'm a big fan, Scooby Doo."
"Rank you."
He turned to Velma, "And you're Velma Dinkley, right?"
Velma grumbled her reply while picking up a menu, "I'm afraid so. Ouch!" The 'ouch' was in response to Scooby kicking her under the table. She looked up and managed a weak fake smile, "Yes, I'm Velma Dinkley. I'm afraid that this is kind of a business meeting so… if you don't mind…"
"Is it possible that I could get your autograph?" He held out a piece of paper torn out of a notebook and a pen.
Well, at least it wasn't a selfie, "Sure." She reached over and took the items.
"Could you make it out to Edgar? Edgar Stanton?"
She started writing, "To Edgar Stanton who interrupted my lunch. Signed Velma Dinkley. Ouch!" Another kick under the table.
The young man stepped back and reddened slightly, "Uh, Thanks, I guess. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I just wanted to tell you how much I love your show."
Velma's fake smile became more fake the longer she tried to hold it, "Thank you so much. Now we really need…"
"Okay. Bye." And the young man left and went back to another table with two other guys about his own age.
Velma turned to Scooby, "Why did you kick me?"
"You were being rude."
"How about him? He walked up and interrupted our lunch."
"We aren't eating runch. It's a business meeting." Scooby could do sarcasm when he really felt like it.
"We could have been."
"Rhats no excuse for you to be impolite."
"Fine." She picked up her menu and stared at it without reading.
They sat and shared a silent brood for a few minutes before a woman stepped into the restaurant, scanned it, located Scooby, and walked directly toward them. Velma used the objects which the woman passed to create a mental description. Average height, roughly 5'-6" although she was wearing heels which made this plus or minus half an inch. Slender, about 120 pounds. Probably late twenties. Blond hair, not natural but an expensive and high-quality job with matching eyebrows. Green eyes but not a natural green, likely lenses. She walked comfortably in very expensive three-inch heels and carried a matching handbag. The suit she wore was professional and expensive. It was new but of a slightly out-of-date style which indicated a woman who worked in a professional office with older men. She either was or wanted to appear to be their peer.
When the woman arrived at the table, Velma noted exceptionally well-applied make-up and adjusted the woman's age from late twenties to about thirty. She and Scooby rose from their seats, Velma's estimate of her height remained unchanged.
"Mr. Doo, Ms. Dinkley, I'm Sandra Redding. I spoke with Mrs. Jones on the telephone.
Her diction was educated, her bearing poised, and she held out her hand for the handshakes with the professional form of knuckles sideways rather than the ghastly female knuckles-up version that was far too slowly dying out in modern society.
"Rease. Have a seat." Scooby gestured at one of the two empty chairs and they all sat.
The woman looked to Velma, "I understand, Ms. Dinkley, that you will be the one actually handling my case?"
"Correct."
"That is excellent. Completely satisfactory." She opened her purse in her lap and pulled out a paper check and held it out toward Scooby.
"Rank you." His paws had enough dexterity to take the check from her but he had no pockets (or clothes for that matter) so he handed the check over to Velma. She glanced at it and noticed that it was a cashier's check with no required signature. And it was drawn from a generic bank account. It was from the Tildale Bank. She slid it into her purse.
"Mrs. Jones requested recent photographs of my husband and information about his vehicle." She handed across three professionally-developed photographs, two of these showed just the husband who was a few years older than his wife (maybe late thirties), generally fit, and attractive. In the picture, his suit was tailor-made and he also sported an expensive haircut. The third photograph was the husband standing in front of a late-model BMW which Velma assumed was his car. The license plate number was hand-written in the lower right-hand corner in black felt tip.
Mrs. Redding continued without waiting for questions, "My husband's name is Christopher Redding and he is a vice president with Tildale Bank. He works at the main offices in downtown Riley. The office hours are 8:00 to 5:00 but his traditional habit has been to work each night until around 6:00 and he would get home by 6:30. During the last few weeks, he has been getting home after 10:00 regularly. I ask him about it, and he tells me that he is having to work longer hours. Frankly I don't believe him.
"His parking space is on the second floor of the building's parking garage which is located next to the building. The garage only exits onto 8th Avenue and the exit does not allow a left turn out. I would like for you to find out what he is doing between 6:00 and 10:00. Now, if you need anything else, you have my number. I'm afraid I've squeezed you in between two appointments and I am having to rush. My apologies."
And she was gone.
Velma stared at Mrs. Redding's back as it receded through the restaurant, "A woman of few words."
Scooby nodded, "I rike that in a woman."
"Do you also like having your tongue pulled over your head?"
"Reen there, done that. Rot the t-shirt."
"Oh crud. She didn't sign the contract."
"Re'll have to call her and get it rater. Now, runch?"
Velma actually read over the menu, "Any chance we can hit fast food on the way back to the office? This is pretty pricy."
Scooby looked over at the menu and scanned the prices, "Fair enough." And they both rose just as the ritzy waiter was finally deigning to come check on them.
As they walked through the restaurant on the way out, they passed near the table of the three boys. One of the two that had not come to their table yelled out, "Hey Velma. You are totally the hot one!"
She smiled and shot him a bird as they walked past and then looked back to Scooby, "That polite enough for you?"
"I ran't argue with that one."
Standing on the front porch of the next-door neighbor, Daphne was staring at a doorbell that was staring back. She turned and tried to figure out the field-of-view of the doorbell cam to see if it could be of any use. It wouldn't show any of the Black's house but it might have caught the getaway vehicle passing in the street. She would definitely ask this Lulu Anderson to see the video from the previous evening.
Robbie did not own many pairs of shoes, so the shoe photo session had only taken a few minutes although Robbie seemed annoyed to be having his rest disturbed. Daphne had finished up quickly and made her way to the neighbor's house.
Amanda stayed back at her house and Daphne was alone waiting on the neighbor's front porch as the echoes of the doorbell died away inside. It was just as well. She could say what she wanted about being used to it from her years with Velma, but Amanda's lack of emotion creeped her out a little. Maybe it's best that she never pursued psychology beyond a bachelor's degree.
The sound of footsteps from within ended with the door opening and a heavy-set woman about four inches shorter than Daphne looked out. She looked up at Daphne without speaking.
Daphne threw out her brightest smile, "Mrs. Anderson, my name is Daphne Jones and I'm with…" Daphne tilted her head and looked more closely at the woman, "Wait… Madame Lulu?"
The woman now answered Daphne's head tilt with a slight furrowing of her brow, "You're the Blake girl who was with the talking dog group."
"Yes. I still am. It's been a long time."
"Yes. Yes, it has. Come in."
Madame Lulu was a gypsy fortune-teller who had been a suspect in one of the cases on their show. Even though she had proven to be uninvolved, they had kept her in the show due to the fact that a gypsy fortune-teller was a cool character. The show had good ratings although it was condemned by the Roma Anti-Defamation League for its stereotypical portrayal of the Roma culture.
As she followed the older woman through the house toward the kitchen, Daphne tried to start a dialogue, "Madame Lulu…"
"At the shop it's Madame Lulu. Here it's just Lulu."
"And I also can't help but notice that the accent is gone."
"Not 100% but most of it is gone. I grew up in Cincinnati. I haven't been to Europe since I was ten."
"So, are you actually Roma?"
"Through and through. My maiden name was Luludza Djugi. Both of my parents were first generation labor immigrants from Slovakia. I was born there. They got us in after the Iron Curtain fell when immigration quotas from Eastern Europe were high. Would you like some tea?"
"Yes. Thank you." She sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and looked around at the high-quality appliances and high-quality everything else that filled the room, "The fortune-telling business must be going well."
"No. It still stinks. The being-married-to-a-partner-in-an-accounting-firm business is pretty lucrative, though." She smiled as the electric kettle bubbled and clicked to signal the water was boiling and ready.
"How long have you been married?"
Lulu poured the tea and then sat next to Daphne, "Almost ten years. The IRS audited me. Imagine that. The federal government harassing a disadvantaged- and woman-owned business. Who'd have thought?" She smiled at her own sarcasm, "My husband wasn't a partner at the time but took me on for a reduced rate since he saw it as a chance to give the IRS a black eye. He's not a fan. He gave them the black eye, I got a refund, and he asked me out. We were married a few months later. About five years ago, he made partner and we moved to Danforth. Your turn."
The abrupt reversal startled Daphne and she took a moment to mentally create her narrative. She matched Lulu's succinctness, "Well, the show got cancelled. We all went broke trying to save it. I married Fred who is a salesman in a hardware store. I sell make-up at the Cove Dwellers Mall in Crystal Cove. We got the gang back together to start a private detective agency to see if we could make ends meet. You know. Living the dream."
"And I take it that the private detective business is what brings you to my house?"
"Yes. I imagine that you're aware of what happened next door to the Blacks last night?"
"Of course, we're neighbors. And Amanda is such a sweet thing once you get used to her odd demeanor. And the baby, Elizabeth, is the cutest thing ever. I hope they find her safe and soon. How are you involved?"
"My firm has been hired by the Blacks to provide a parallel effort to the police in finding the child. Did you happen to see or hear anything last night?"
"Not until the police showed up. My husband doesn't hear well and he tends to keep the television turned up loud. I saw the flashing lights through the windows. I went over and Amanda told me what had happened."
"Did the police speak with you?"
"No. Not at all. Didn't want to bother me, I guess."
"Didn't want to bother you? Really?"
"This is Danforth. The police don't bother the taxpayers without a real good reason."
"How about a child being kidnapped."
"Well, for whatever reason, they haven't talked to me."
"Could I possibly get a look at the video from your doorbell cam?"
"My what? Oh. Certainly. But I'm not sure that I know how to do that. I sat through the presentation when the security company hooked it up but my husband paid more attention than I did about all the technical parts."
"Do you have an app on your phone?"
"I think so. Wait! I know there's an app on my laptop. Let me get it. Maybe we can figure it out."
She left and came back with the computer, setting it on the counter in front of them. The desktop was cluttered with hundreds of icons.
Daphne glanced at the disorganized mess, "What's the name of your security service?"
"I don't know. Its three initials, I think. Wait, they send me e-mails when they debit my account." She opened her e-mails to show thousands of them unopened, the queen of disorganization. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. "Here it is. URS Security Consultants." Daphne knew of them. They were a medium-sized regional brand. But, most importantly, she knew what their logo looked like which helped her to look for that icon amongst the rat's nest on Lulu's desktop. Armed with this information, she was able to find, click, and open the appropriate software.
The screen opened with a stored password which helped. Daphne imagined that needing a password would have ended the effort until Lulu's husband got home. But open it did, and they were on their way. Three clicks to the video archive and they were looking at the previous night's footage. She fast-forwarded to timestamp 19:45 and they started watching. No vehicles passed until time stamp 19:56, when a dark-colored SUV with at least two heads inside passed by. Daphne sped the feed up to 5x and they watched no traffic until time stamp 20:04 when they slowed the feed down to real time and watched the same SUV passed again. They could now see two heads in the other side of the vehicle which meant at least three and probably four people in the car. They continued to watch at 5x speed until the first police car showed up. No other vehicles passed by. Since it was a cul-de-sac street (Danforth would not be so gauche as to have a 'dead-end' street), that was not surprising.
Daphne brought the video back to the best picture of the passenger side of the car and looked for distinguishing characteristics. The software allowed her to snap a photo.
"Do you mind if I e-mail this video and some pictures of this from your computer to me?"
"Not at all. This is fascinating."
"What color do you think the car is?"
"It's hard to tell. No lights are hitting it but maybe a dark green."
"I was guessing blue so I guess we don't know the color other than dark. Unless you maybe have seen that vehicle around the neighborhood."
"No. I don't recognize it. But it's a Chevy Tahoe, if that helps."
"Yes. That helps." Daphne wrote it down. "Are you a car buff?"
"No. It's just a trick of the trade. When you're working a fair or something, you hang in the parking lot as the early crowds arrive and try to tie faces to vehicles. Then, if you recognize a face coming into the tent, you can have a vision that includes them riding in a specific car. It lends credibility to the overall experience. So, I learned car types."
"Well, it sure helped today. I'm going to run back over to the Black's and tell the police officer there to come and talk to you. They'll want to see this, too."
"I imagine they will. And Daphne…"
"Yes?"
"Any chance that you might start the show up again? I got a pretty sweet payday out of my appearance, and it increased my walk-in traffic for weeks after it aired."
"That doesn't look likely anytime soon. Oh, and while I'm talking with you, I'm very sorry about the way we presented your culture."
"You are? What did you do?"
"Well, the Roma Anti-Defamation League lodged a complaint to the network. I felt terrible."
"I guess you said the word 'gypsy' a couple of times. I, of course, had it painted on my storefront window and printed on all my business cards. Still do. I'll let you in on a little secret. The Roma Anti-Defamation League doesn't have any actual Roma members. They're just a bunch of people who love to file complaints. If you ever do anything that truly upsets the Roma community, we'll knock on your door ourselves and we'll talk it through. We won't file a network complaint through some faceless league. That's not who we are."
"I appreciate that. Thank you."
Daphne walked back over to the Black's house, knocked, and then let herself in to find Amanda making a sandwich for the policeman. She tapped the young officer on the shoulder, "I'm sorry. I don't think I got your name."
He turned, "Oh. Yeah. I'm Randy. Randy Larkin. I'm the rookie on the force. So, I get jobs like this one where my only instructions are to call in if anything happens."
"I would recommend that you go next door and speak with Mrs. Anderson. She has some video footage of the vehicle that I'm pretty sure is the one that took Bettie."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"That sounds cool. What should I do with the video?"
"Um… I would recommend that you use it to establish the type of vehicle and the direction it was heading and then canvas the neighborhood and businesses looking for cameras pointing at the street. That way, you might be able to trace when the same vehicle passed by. If you get pretty lucky, you'll be able to establish a general direction it was headed. If you get really lucky, you might find a camera that picked up some or all of its license plate number."
"I'll do that."
"And another thing that you might do is to give me a call if anything turns up?" She ended the sentence with an upward lilt to turn it into a question.
"I can text you. What's your number?"
She gave him her card. Things felt official when she handed her card to a police officer. Even one who was wet behind the ears. He seemed equally pleased to give his to her.
She left Amanda, Officer Larkin, and the resting Robbie and then headed over for her reunion with Chastity Black. Before she pulled her car from the curb, she called Chastity to confirm that she would be home. Chastity said that she was out, but would be back at her parent's house, where she was house-sitting, in about 45 minutes. The house was the same one which Daphne had visited years before. Chastity provided the address and Daphne found the address of a local coffee shop where she could kill 40 minutes.
Scooby and Velma returned to the Jones' house to find it empty. There was a note on the side door which read Shaggy and I had to go to work. The phones are forwarded to me. Please take them off of forward when you get in, so my boss doesn't catch me moonlighting on the job. You can let yourselves in with the spare key.
Fred's shift had started at the hardware store and Shaggy had to go to the restaurant and get ready for the dinner rush. Which becoming a rush again as Covid regulations and concerns waned.
Velma looked down at Scooby, "Now, if I only knew where the spare key was."
Scooby pointed at a small rock next to the driveway, "It's runder that rock."
Velma picked up the rock and found the key. It was sharing the location with two snails and an earthworm, and it was dirty. She would have to wash her hands. Inside the house, they found a note next to the phones explaining how to put them on and take them off forwarding mode. She punched in a few buttons and then called Fred.
Fred answered in a whisper, "Scooby Doo Investigations."
"Fred, it's me. I've got the phones until about 4:00. Then I'll have to leave to get in position to trail my assignment. If Daphne's not back by then, I'll forward them back to you and text you."
"Thanks Vel. I need to get back to some customers. Bye."
She barely noticed the 'Vel' this time. Maybe it was growing on her.
Her next call was to her client. The phone rang twice before Sandra Redding answered, "Hello?"
"Ms. Redding, this is Velma Dinkley from Scooby Doo Investigations."
"Yes, Ms. Dinkley. Something to report so soon?"
"No ma'am. Our meeting was so rushed earlier that I forgot to get you to sign the contract."
"Oh really? You have my check so that should serve as notice to proceed."
"Yes, ma'am. But I'm a little obsessive about details. Could I e-mail it to you and you sign it, scan it, and send it back?"
"Certainly. I'm going to be away from my office for the rest of the day. I should be able to get to it tomorrow morning."
"If you could please. It will complete the paperwork to open your file."
"If you don't receive it by noon, give me a call."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
And the call ended.
Velma mentally kicked herself. Once you get behind on the details, it was impossible to catch up. This was going to bother her until she got that signed contract. But she would just have to stay focused on the work at hand. Right now, she had a couple of hours to work on her homework for her Friday classes. Which should be plenty of time. The most interesting assignment was for Professor Perkins' class. He was disliked by most of the students because he didn't tolerate a lack of preparation for his class and tended to publicly humiliate students who seemed ill-prepared. Sometimes they weren't and were just struggling with the material and, in those times, Velma had to admit he was something of an ass. But she had met him during his office hours three times and each time had been a very interesting discussion that started with the subject matter from class and went to levels that she found challenging. That made her feel good, so she wanted to make sure and not slip up and appear unprepared tomorrow.
The coffee shop which Daphne had found in Danforth charged $6.00 for a cup of coffee with no free refills. She nursed her one cup for 35 minutes in order to justify the table and the last few sips were tepid and nasty. But she had checked e-mails – all spam – and made a couple of cold calls – all valueless – and tried to find someone to take her shift at the mall tonight – fruitless. She had to get home before 5:00 if she were to make her 6:00-to-close shift. After being a private investigator searching for a missing child all day, being a cosmetics salesperson in the evening was going to be a downer.
The doorbell at Robbie and Chastity's parents' house was also a doorbell cam. Odds were that most of the doorbells in Danforth had cameras now. The driveway was long with trees lining either side. She remembered the stable which she passed off to her right. It had an apartment in the loft where Chastity had held her parties when she was in middle school and her activist meetings when she was in high school. Daphne had attended two of the former and one of the later. The activist meeting had been a little intense, so she had never gone back. But she had seen Chastity at various events through the years and always been friendly.
The door opened and Chastity stood looking somber, "Daphne. Come in. Sorry, but I called Robbie after you called me and confirmed that you were working for him. It seemed prudent. We haven't seen each other in a few years and you might be media now. You always had that 'it' factor."
Daphne didn't know what to do with that one, so she left it alone, "I'm not offended at all. I'm happy you checked."
Chastity led her through a very formal living room into a very formal den. The living room was furnished with a just-short-of-gawdy white Greco-Roman motif and a marble floor while the den was Early American with light blue walls and a hardwood floor. Both had marble fireplaces.
Chastity looked her up and down, "You haven't changed at all. You still even wear purple and green. Although the pants suit is a nice change over the old mini-dress."
"I'm thinking of making a change. I don't remember you being such a fashionista back in the day."
Chastity had always been attractive without being beautiful but during her activist period, she had gone with a 'Weather Underground' look falling just short of the complete cliche of the black beret and Che Guevera t-shirt. She still wore her blonde hair very short which, along with her grey-blue eyes, gave her a stern (almost cold) countenance. This had worked well for the revolutionary-in-training back in the day. A closer glance at her hair showed that her brown roots were showing. She apparently had skipped the touch-up with her last cut.
"Oh, I'm not. I've just had to make some modifications on my outlook on life. If I want to be able to hold a job, then I have to make some concessions."
"So, you've shifted away from the destruction of the imperialist capitalist war machine through open rebellion?"
She smiled, "I adjusted focus. I am now going for the modification of the misogynistic and privileged society through the proper employment of the democratic process. In other words, I spend all of my non-working hours sitting at phone banks for progressive candidates."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I teach sociology and history at Danforth High School. And once a year, I get to teach a theater class."
"That sounds like a good fit."
"It's fine. I worked out a deal with the school board. I teach their revisionist history and they don't fire me. But the principal at least lets me tell the students what has been revised although I am not allowed to test the kids on it. But none of this is really important until my niece is found."
"You are correct." Daphne pulled out her notepad, "You're housesitting? Where are your parents now?"
"Right this instant, they are on a plane heading here. They got tickets as soon as I called them about the kidnapping. But they were in their mini-chateau overlooking the Mediterranean on the French Riviera."
"Life's rough."
"They are determined to spend all of their money enjoying life before they die. They say that they can't take it with them. Of course, they could give some of it to their kids. But that's not in the plans. Which is ironic since Dad inherited his fortune. But que sera sera."
Daphne asked the next question as she was writing in her notepad, "I don't remember Robbie much from when we were kids. Were you two close?"
"Not then. But as we grew up, we found that we had a common enemy, our parents. We grew closer. We're pretty close now."
"So, you visit their house a lot?"
"I used to, but his wife gives me the creeps. I go over maybe once every couple of weeks to see Robbie and Bettie."
"So, you're not a big Amanda fan."
"No. She lied to my brother about what she was until after they were married and now he's trapped in a marriage with a child and an ice princess for a wife. She was always a little off, even when she was faking it. She laughed just a little too loud and sometimes at the wrong moments. I should have figured it out. By the time she came clean, it was too late."
"Are they considering divorce?"
"If they are, then neither one of them is telling me about it. Robbie doesn't really confide in me about things like that. And she surely doesn't. Although I doubt that she would care if they did. When Robbie called me from the hospital last night, I called Amanda to ask if she needed anything. I offered to come over and help. She said no. Calm as you please. Her daughter is missing, and she doesn't even care about that!" Her voice was rising.
"That might be a little harsh."
"Harsh?!" Her daughter is missing, and I am far more upset about it than she is! She irons her clothes and puts on her make-up and goes about her business as if nothing is happening. Her husband was nearly killed, and her daughter is missing! What sort of sociopath could do that?! If there is someone that you need to investigate. It's her. She probably is a sociopath and just wanted to get the annoyance of a child out of her way. I just hope it's not…" She broke into a sob.
Daphne waited for a few moments for the sobs to subside, "We're going to do everything in our power to make sure that Bettie gets home safe and sound."
"Do you have any children?"
Daphne tried to remember the last conversation she had had with a woman that didn't include that question. She couldn't. She froze up as the anxiety of Fred's brief statement came to the forefront of her memory. What was she going to tell him? Maybe she should go ahead and have a child. How bad could it be? It seemed that someone who asked themselves that question might not be the best person to become a parent. Some of her friends had told her that they had not wanted kids but that actually having one had changed everything. But how much of a gamble was that?! You were gambling with a human life! And what if she got pregnant and then changed her mind?! And her marriage with Fred was in such a good place right now. Would this issue make it spiral out of control and end in another, and final, divorce?
"Daphne?"
Daphne returned from her thoughts and saw Chastity looking at her, "Sorry. My mind wandered a little there."
"Doesn't sound like a good trait for a private investigator."
Ouch. "No. It isn't. Sorry." She had to talk to Fred. This issue was beginning to affect her job performance, "No. I don't have any kids."
"Me, neither." She sighed.
"I remember that was your plan. To not bring more children into an overpopulated and unfair world."
"That's a lot of peoples' plans in high school. As I got into my late twenties, I changed my mind and tried to have a baby."
"Oh. You were married?"
Chastity turned her head slightly sideways and smirked, "No. Prude much?" At that moment, she looked every bit the teen-age girl that Daphne remembered, "I found a guy that seemed to have good genes and we tried for a while. And then I went the sperm donor route. And then I went to the doctor and found out that the problem is me. Then I had to have surgery which made everything irreversible."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Me, too. But that is why Bettie is so important to me. She's as close as I'll ever come. You have to find her." Her eyes filled again as she looked across at Daphne.
Daphne waited for Chastity's eyes to dry and her composure to return, "Who all visits Robbie and Amanda at their home?"
"Shouldn't you ask them that?"
"I did. But they are under duress and might have missed someone."
Chastity nodded, "Me. My parents. Other than that, I don't know of anyone."
"Do you know any of their neighbors?"
"Not really. Amanda used to go over to the one neighbor's house when I would come over. Of course, I found out that was because she was trying to hide who she was from me. And from everybody."
"Do you remember which neighbor?"
"Not by name. I think Amanda mentioned that her husband was an accountant."
"Okay. That helps."
"Can you think of anyone that might want to hurt Robbie, Amanda, or Bettie?"
"Hurt? No. They have debts up to their eyeballs but don't we all."
"Preach it, sister."
"But no. Robbie and Amanda are pretty average."
"How about your parents? Anything unusual there. Someone nosing around about their money?"
"Well… huh."
"What?"
"I didn't think anything much of it until you just asked but I did get a weird phone call about four or five days ago on the house phone here. It was some guy saying that he was doing business with my father and wanted to speak with him. When I said that they were out of town, he started asking very specific questions about where they were and when they were coming back. I refused to answer and he got a little unprofessional with me."
"What day was that?"
"I don't know but you can check the phone records on the phone. It will tell you and should give you the number they called from."
"Thank you. Can we take a look at your doorbell cam video footage for the last few days?"
"Sure. Dad's security service installed it on my phone while I was staying here." She turned on the television and then cast her phone signal to the television.
"Start six days ago and proceed at 20x speed."
Chastity worked on her phone and a slideshow of the front porch began to pass by on the screen. They continued to watch at this rate for about 50 minutes when there was a snapshot which included some figures.
"Stop. Go back to that one."
Chastity was already doing this and brought up the picture on the large, high-definition, screen. The picture on the screen was of three men: One was male, Caucasian, about 6 feet tall, mid-thirties, brown hair, brown eyes, medium build with no noticeable tattoos or scars. The second was shorter – about 5'-9", also Caucasian male, mid-thirties, heavy set. And the third was older – maybe forties with a medium build.
They were a precise match for the men described in Robbie's statement to the police.
Chastity showed the actual video in real time. It showed a dark green Chevy Tahoe pull past the camera in the circular drive and then the three men appeared in the screen from screen right. They walked up the stone walk to the door. They pressed the doorbell, waited a minute, pressed it again, and then left. Daphne stood on her tiptoes as if hoping the change in vantage point would give her a look at the back of the vehicle as it went back down the driveway. She was able to make out that it was in-state plates and she got two letters. Given the make and color of the car, that would probably be enough.
She pulled the Danforth police rookie's card from her purse and called.
He answered immediately, "Hello?"
"Officer Larkin, this is Daphne Jones."
"Would it be okay if you just called me Randy and I called you Daphne?"
"Works for me, Randy. You need to come over to Edward and Gail Black's house and look at their doorbell cam footage. I believe that it includes video of the three men that attacked Robbie and took their child."
"No kidding?"
"I think you'll find its them."
"You are awesome at this."
"Well, I've had some experience. You also need to run in-state plates with the first two numbers being A and L. The vehicle is a dark green Chevy Tahoe. That should be the getaway car."
"I'll do that. Thanks."
"Don't forget to give me a call when you find something out."
"No problem."
She hung up and stood. It was going to be a rush getting ready for work at the mall tonight, "Oh Chastity, one last thing. Have you seen Amanda and Robbie today?"
"No. It's been a couple of weeks since I saw them face-to-face."
"Okay, Thanks. After we get Bettie back safe and sound, we'll have to catch up for real."
The smile was sad, "That would be great."
Daphne left and got into her car. Not a bad first day so far.
