And the Trail Goes Cold...

Grant Morgan Shoe took a deep breath and surveyed the scene. It was nice day, with some clouds and a cool breeze, so he had his car windows down as he parked on the corner and monitored the house. It seemed like a friendly-enough neighborhood, though the houses struck him as basically inter-changeable. Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, he thought, and chuckled to himself.

Some kids were playing street hockey in the cul-de-sac, but they didn’t seem to paying any attention to him. He lifted his sunglasses to get a better look at them, practicing his observation skills.

Four boys, approximately aged 9 to 12. None of them taller than five feet. Slim builds. Let’s see… One with dark hair, one blond, swept up… Huh. A couple of ‘em are black. And they’re playing hockey. Who’d have thought?

He turned his attention back to the house he’d had under surveillance. There was no activity. He thought it might be a while, as there was no telling when the woman might get home. He doubted that anything would come from this stake-out, but he had an assignment and the client was paying good money.

Grant thought back to a Private Investigators convention that he had attended the previous year. He’d sat in on a panel about drones, and how they were the future of security and surveillance. The speaker had made a big deal about how drones were unobtrusive, stealthy, easily disposable and nearly impossible to trace if the correct precautions were taken. The moderator was convinced that in five year’s time, drones would be as commonplace as street lights, with people taking no notice of them. This would allow private detectives to engage in safe, long-distance surveillance without the need for time-consuming stake-outs.

Of course, the whole thing had proven to be an elaborate sales pitch, but they’d made a good case. Still, Grant preferred the street-level peeping that he had built his business on. Most of that, though, took place in the bustling city, where there was always SOMETHING to look at. Plenty of hot dog vendors, too. Here, the best he could hope for was to catch one of these kids high-sticking their friend.

After an hour, an SUV pulled into the driveway. A girl – Blonde, adolescent , maybe early teens, Grant observed, though he didn’t get a look at her face – hopped out of the back seat with a shopping bag. She hustled into the house. Grant got out of his car and approached the adult woman as she loaded her arms with shopping bags from the trunk.

All right, let’s see, Grant thought as he approached, The mother-in-law knows me, and so does her partner at the Tracy Agency. All the officers at the MCU know me from those times I had to testify, but as long as the husband isn’t here, she shouldn’t recognize me. 

“Mrs. Tracy! Do you need a hand?” Grant asked, trying to keep his voice non-threatening.

The woman turned to face him. He was struck.

Holy Cripes, she’s gorgeous! Grant thought. I mean, you see someone on TV and you think it’s all lighting and make-up, but those eyelashes go out for a mile! And that hair…! 

Grant realized that he had stopped and was staring. He composed himself. “I’m sorry, I just saw you with all of those bags, and I thought maybe you could use some help?”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” she asked. Her voice had the slightest hint of a twang in it that Grant found irresistibly charming. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“Oh! Oh, no, actually, I’m here to see you, in fact.” Grant explained. “It’s just a coincidence I arrived right when you were getting home. You ARE Sparkle Plenty Tracy, aren’t you?”

Of course she is, Grant thought. She’s been famous her whole life. What a dumb thing to say. I’m blowing this…

Sparkle smiled, and Grant practically melted. “Yes, I’m Sparkle. I don’t need any help, though, thank you. Grew up on a farm. Did you need something?”

“Oh, yes, thanks.” Grant fumbled in his pocket for the business card he’d made up. His plan had been to play up the awkward, star-struck act to try to make her feel at ease, but he found that he didn’t need to fake it. “My name’s Bart Grimes. I’m the President of the Moon Maid Fan Club. Just the local chapter, though, not the national. But, since is this is where she was based when she was alive, it’s kind of a big deal. Plus, I maintain the Wiki about her.”

Sparkle looked at the card. Grant couldn’t read her expression. Man, her fingers are so delicate. So… Graceful…

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grimes, I really don’t have a lot to say about Moon Maid. You probably want my husband and he’s very busy.” Sparkle handed the card back.

“No, I understand.” Grant said. “I was actually hoping that you might be able to help me with something specific, though. You remember when you won the Moon Maid Look-Alike Contest? From Sunny Wheat Cereal?”

Sparkle’s face lit up at the mention of the event. “Oh, yes! That was a hoot and a holler! Me and my parents got a free trip to the moon. Mammy and Pappy had barely even been out of the state since they were little tykes, and then all of a sudden we were up there in outer space.”

Grant grabbed a pad and paper and scribbled some notes, though this wasn’t what he was really interested in. Sparkle continued. “Mammy liked it most of all, I think. We were all a little scared that she would keep wearing them Moon clothes when we got back to Earth, she was so taken with them.”

“Uh-huh.” Grant tried to keep his tone level. This was the big question. “I was wondering if you remember the woman who came in second? Her name was Glenna? I understand you met her.”

Sparkle’s smile faded. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in a long time. I don’t know anybody who has. Maybe you can ask at the cereal company.”

In fact, Grant had contacted the Sunny Wheat Cereal company to ask after Glenna. It had been the first place he’d gone when he’d taken this case. The executives had not been especially forthcoming. Not a surprise, I guess. he’d thought as he was being escorted off the premises by security.

“Sure, sure.” Grant said. “I just thought maybe you’d have kept in touch, or knew where to reach her or something. I wanted to get her take on the contest for my blog.”

The door to the house opened and the blonde girl stepped out. “Sparkle, are you coming?”

Grant saw the girl and gasped. “Holy Cripes, kid!” he said without thinking. “What are those things on your head?”

The girl scowled. Sparkle did also. Grant looked back and forth between them, then stammered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, really. You must be Honeymoon, right? I’ve read all about you. I just wasn’t prepared for, you know…”

“I think we’re finished, Mr. Grimes.” Sparkle shut the trunk, not taking her bags. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t come to my home again.” She hustled up the walkway and ushered Honeymoon inside.

Grant walked back to his car. Well, that went about as well as could be expected, he thought. Damn, I should have asked to get a picture with her…

***

A week later, Grant sat in his office. His client was seated across the desk. He was an old man with a wrinkled face, wearing dark glasses and a hat, even indoors. When they had first met, Grant had taken notice of the peculiar odor that the man carried.

“Are you wearing perfume?” Grant had asked.

“It’s scented hand lotion.” Posie Ermine had explained. “It’s nice.” He apparently considered the matter closed, and Grant hadn’t pressed the issue. 

Now, though, the man slumped. He had hired Grant to track down his daughter, who had gone missing while Posie had been in prison. The old man had a series of letters he had received from her, sent from here in the city, where she had settled after serving her own prison term. The last several letters were filled with happiness and optimism, and they described a new cosmetic surgical procedure that Glenna had volunteered for.

“I don’t know why,” Posie had said. “She’s a beautiful girl. Always has been. Just wanted to look more like that crazy Moon woman, I guess.” 

Grant had looked over the photos that Posie had provided of his daughter. She’s got a nice shape, he’d thought. But that face, ugh…

Grant had taken the case, agreeing to find whatever he could about the daughter’s current whereabouts and report back. His results had been disappointing. Between Sparkle Plenty Tracy and the cereal company, no one seemed to have seen or heard from Glenna in years. The fact that Glenna had also used another name hadn’t helped matters much either. 

Grant had even tried to get in contact with this “new” Moon Maid, the woman who called herself Mysta Chimera, but that had been a non-starter. Even though she’d starred in that movie, she was a notorious recluse and he couldn’t find any way of making contact with her. 

Now, Grant had to break the news to Posie. The old man was devastated.

“The farthest I got was the doctors.” Grant explained. “Ghote and Sail. Ghote’s got a record and some underworld ties, but nobody’s seen him in while.”

“I know the name.” Posie said cryptically. “What about the other one?”

“Clean as a whistle.” Grant said. “Dr. S. Tim Sail has no criminal record. His taxes are current, no outstanding debts or anything. But, just like Ghote, the trail goes cold. Like he just disappeared off the face of the Earth one day.”

Posie’s face drooped. “So there’s no hope? No trace of where these men might have taken my daughter?”

“I could keep at it, but a lot of people are stonewalling me.” Grant said. If he was being completely honest, he would have said that the case bored him and he just didn’t want to devote any more time to it. But Posie had paid for two weeks in advance, so that’s what he’d gotten.

“Look, think of it this way,” Grant suggested. “These doctors were going to fix up your daughter’s face, right? So, probably what happened is that they did such a good job that one of them fell in love with her, and they ran off together. And maybe they don’t want to be found, ‘cause the other doctor would get jealous, right?”

Grant didn’t mention the other option. According to my research, he thought, neither Dr. Zy Ghote or Dr. S. Tim Sail was a cosmetic surgeon. So, what was most likely is that they had engaged in some highly-experimental treatment on Glenna and it HADN’T gone well, so they’d had to destroy the evidence of their wrongdoing and go into hiding. Still, Grant didn’t see any reason to put that thought in the old man’s head.

Posie Ermine sighed heavily and shook his head. “She was all I had to look forward to when I got out, you know? We were going to turn things around. I had a little money squirreled away, where the cops couldn’t get at it. We’d open a little flower shop, do weddings, funerals, that kind of thing. I’d be surrounded by beauty all day long, between the flowers and her…”

Posie stood up and went to go. Then he turned back.

“You have the address for Sparkle Plenty?” he asked.

“Sparkle Plenty TRACY?” Grant said, attempting to remind the old man of exactly who he was dealing with. “Yeah, I have it.”

“I want it.” Posie said.

Has this guy never heard of Google? Grant thought. Lucky for me that he hasn’t, I guess. Grant didn’t respond, just looked at Posie impassively.

“A thousand dollars.” Posie said. “Cash.”

Posie reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He counted off ten hundred-dollar bills and slapped them on Grant’s desk. Grant looked at the money, then wrote down an address on a piece of paper. He handed it to Posie.

“This better be right.” Posie said. “I know where your office is. And I’m not so old.”

“I got it. Do whatever you want.” Grant smiled. “What do I care?”

Grant couldn’t read Posie’s expression behind the dark glasses. The old man turned and left.

Grant breathed a heavy sigh of relief, glad that the tension was gone from the room. He scooped up the cash and folded it into his shirt pocket, then pondered his next move for a moment. 

Well, I guess I gotta do the right thing, he thought. I mean, I AM one of the good guys…

Grant picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, Police Department? Can I have Detective Tracy in the Major Crimes Unit? It’s a matter regarding his family…”

END