The Platypus Ploy by Claire McNab

Author:Claire McNab [McNab, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781593500269
Amazon: 1593500262
Goodreads: 1257587
Publisher: Alyson Books
Published: 2007-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Sunday was a blur of telephone calls and futile meetings. Ariana’s friend, Detective Lark of the LAPD, immediately became involved, because even though she hadn’t been missing long enough for official action, Ariana, being an ex-cop, was, as Ted Lark said, family.

Ariana had vanished, as the cliché went, without a trace. Her car had not been found, her cell phone wasn’t working, her credit cards had not been used, and no one had tried to withdraw money from her bank accounts through an ATM. She was licensed to carry a concealed weapon, and as her handgun, a Glock automatic, was not in her home or office, it was presumed Ariana had had it with her when she disappeared.

Late Sunday afternoon we held a council of war to summarize what we knew and to plan our next moves. Melodie got coffee for everyone while Lonnie and I moved additional chairs into Anriana’s office. I looked at her neat desk, her high-backed chair, and wished with all my heart that it was still Friday, and Ariana was sitting there, cool and contained. We’d been discussing Sir Rupert’s infatuation. If I could rerun those few moments, I’d make her tell me who it was she referred to when she’d said, “Recently there’s been someone who concerns me much more.”

Ted Lark, chairing the meeting, took Ariana’s seat. He was a rumpled, heavy-set man whose face reminded me of a bloodhound. Everything had a lugubrious cast: his mournful eyes, his long nose, his sagging jowls.

The rest of us—me, Bob, Lonnie, Fran, Quip, and Janette—arranged ourselves in a rough semicircle. Melodie passed around coffee mugs, then sat down herself. We were all worn down by fatigue and worry. Janette, who was a softer, pastel version of Ariana, looked particularly exhausted.

“Before we start, Ted,” said Bob to Lark, “do you think there can be any link between Kylie’s stalker and Ariana’s disappearance?”

Lark shrugged his heavy shoulders. “There doesn’t seem to be a connection, but I’m keeping the possibility in mind.”

The thought that somehow, unwittingly, I was responsible had haunted me since last night. Could I have done more to find out who was leaving the notes? Should I have staked out my car in an effort to catch my stalker red-handed?

Lark cleared his throat for attention. “Okay,” he said, “we all know the situation. Yesterday evening, at five o’clock, Ariana last spoke with Janette. We have the house security camera showing Ariana’s BMW leaving her place at six-fifteen. We don’t know who was behind the wheel, as the vehicle was accessed through an internal door into the garage, and the angle of the camera only shows the vehicle, once outside, from behind. This means there’s no way to be sure Ariana was driving her own car. She failed to arrive at Janette’s house at seven, when she was expected. There’s an all-points on her vehicle, which hasn’t yet been located. I have an alert out in case anyone tries to use her credit cards or gain access to her bank accounts.

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