Page 49 of Fade Out
“She did. She didn’t want to, but she did.”
“Did you write a check?”
“She wanted cash. I don’t do cash, I write checks. That way I got a record.”
“So you got her name?”
“Yes, finally she took a check.”
“Uh-huh, what name did she give you?”
He eyed me suspiciously. “Not sure I can say.”
That seemed odd. He’d said a lot already.
“The thing is, those coins were stolen. So you can give me her name, which will send me off looking for her. Or I can leave empty handed, giving me plenty of time to call the police and let them know you’ve got some stolen coins for sale.”
With a dirty look, he reached under the counter and pulled out a fistful of yellow carbons. Each was a copy of a handwritten receipt. He dug through them, pulled one out and read, “Hillary Buckman.”
My first thought was how odd that was. Rita always used names that had her initials. Made up names. So did that mean this wasn’t made up?
The address on the receipt was 618 North Wells. Then, I remembered there were Buckmans on the board there, personal friends of Gloria Silver. They must have a daughter named Hillary, a daughter who was very likely the girl in the box. And I was going to have to let them know.
Chapter Twelve
It wasthe middle of the afternoon and I hadn’t eaten. I drove back to Boystown and parked around the corner from a gyros place on Broadway. I got the special: a gyros wrapped in foil and an order of thick, greasy fries. Then I headed back to Brian’s. No one was home, so I spread my lunch out on the big dining room table, grabbed a pop from the kitchen, then went and got his cordless phone, pulling the antenna out fully.
Taking a giant bite of my sandwich, I dialed the number for theDaily Herald. I was still chewing when Gloria answered.
“Hello. Hello?”
I hadn’t actually expected her to answer. I thought I’d have to listen to a message first, giving me time to finish chewing.
“Uh—”
“Who is this?”
I swallowed. “It’s Nick.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly not happy. “Look, I’ve hardly had any time to do what you asked. I had three events last night that I just had to go to… and I have two tonight. I’ll be able to spend some time on this Monday after I turn in my column.”
“Hillary Buckman.”
“What about her?”
“I’ve connected her to Rita. She might be the girl in the box.”
“No. You’re wrong. Hilly used to come to our house for sleepovers. She’s friends with my daughter.”
I decided not to mention that childhood sleepovers were no protection from murder.
“When was the last time you saw the Buckmans?” I asked.
“I saw Diane last night at a function.”
“How did she seem?”
“Fine. You don’t think they know, do you?”
