The Ghost and the Dead Deb by Alice Kimberly Page B

which my late father, who’d also been part of that force, had helped him do.
    “Hey, Pen. Sadie,” he said, touching the brim of his cap.
    “How are you, Eddie?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Working Saturday in the middle of the summer, when I should be sunning myself on the Ponsert Beach, that’s how I am. It’s not like the old days, when we were young and the living was easy, eh, Pen?”
    “When we were young, we didn’t have children to support,” I replied.
    “I’ll say. Found out my oldest kid needs braces. What passes for my dental plan will pay for less than half the procedure, so I’ll be working Saturdays for the rest of the summer . . . Maybe the rest of the year.”
    Sadie began window-shopping, tactfully moving down the street until she was out of earshot.
    “Can I ask you something, Eddie . . . off the record?”
    “Not if it’s about the littering ticket. I’m sorry about the fine, Pen, but you weren’t the only business that got hit. Lots of folks along Cranberry did . . . It wasn’t my idea. I was just following orders.”
    I knew Eddie and his fellow “Brothers in Blue” were feeling the heat as the result of new revenue-enhancing policies instituted by Councilwoman Marjorie Binder-Smith, the most frustrating woman in local politics. Sadie and Marjorie had been feuding since before I was born, it seemed, and it was my aunt who dubbed her “The Municipal Zoning Witch.” The councilwoman’s newest shakedown had most of the town’s business leaders buzzing, and not in a nice way. The strategy involved an insidious manipulation of perfectly reasonable trash laws.
    “It’s not about the ticket, which I paid in full,” I replied. “Actually, it’s about a missing person, who, technically, may not be a missing person—at least not officially.”
    Eddie reached under his cap and scratched his head. Then he put his hands on his hips. “Are you talking about the young woman who disappeared last night?” he asked.
    Could it be that Dana Wu actually filed a missing report after all? I wondered. Only one way to find out.
    “Do you mean Angel Stark?” I asked.
    To my surprise, Eddie shook his head. “Never heard of anyone called Angel Stark. Our missing person is a woman, though . . . college kid who came to town for the weekend.”
    It was my turn to scratch my head. “I don’t know who you mean.”
    “She’s a Brown University student, over from Providence,” Eddie continued. “She and her friends were staying at the new Comfy-Time Motel on the highway last night. Sometime after midnight—the roommates are not sure of the exact time—they claim the girl stepped outside to get a soda and never came back. Her car is still in the parking lot. Her purse with her ID and credit cards was still in the motel room. She was reported missing to us first thing in the morning.”
    “What are you doing about it?”
    “Not much yet. If she’d been under eighteen and we had more information, we could issue an Amber Alert right away. But the girl’s over eighteen and she hasn’t even been missing for twenty-four hours, so Chief Ciders wants to wait it out before getting the Staties involved, which is more or less standard procedure. We’re trying to contact her parents right now to see if she’s tried to get in touch with them in any way. Once we’ve confirmed she hasn’t called them—or shown up at any of her known addresses—then we’ll ask the State Police to issue an All Points Bulletin. Till then, I’ve been showing the woman’s picture to every gas station attendant and restaurant worker in the area to see if anyone remembers seeing her . . . No luck yet.”
    Eddie reached into his pocket and drew out a photograph. “Maybe you’ll recognize her.”
    I took the picture from Eddie’s hand. I recognized the girl instantly—the young woman who’d caused the disruption at Angel’s reading the night before.
    “The missing woman’s name is Banks . . . Victoria Banks,”