J.J. Cottrell, Inc., Wendy's employment reference on her lease application. I found the number in my notebook and tried it again on the chance I'd misdialed it first time around. I got the same recording. I checked the telephone directory for J.J. Cottrell and didn't come up with anything. I tried Information, and they didn't have anything, either.
I thought for a few minutes, then dialed a special number. When a woman picked up, I said,
"Patrolman Lewis Pankow, Sixth Precinct. I have a listing that's temporarily out of service, and I have to know in what name it's listed."
She asked the number. I gave it to her. She asked me to please hold the line.
I sat there with the phone against my ear for almost ten minutes before she came back on the line.
"That's not a temporary disconnect," she said. "That's a permanent disconnect."
"Can you tell me who the number was assigned to last?"
"I'm afraid I can't, officer."
"Don't you keep that information on file?"
"We must have it somewhere, but I don't have access to it. I have recent disconnects, but that was disconnected over a year ago, so I wouldn't have it. I'm surprised it hasn't been reassigned by now."
"So all you know is that it's been out of service for more than a year."
That was all she knew. I thanked her and rang off. I poured myself a drink, and by the time it was gone I decided that Hanniford ought to be back in his office.
I was right.
He told me he had managed to find the postcards. The first one, postmarked New York, had been mailed on June 4. The second had been mailed in Miami on September 16.
"Does that tell you anything, Scudder?"
It told me she had been in New York in early June if not before then. It told me she had taken the Miami trip prior to signing the lease on her apartment.
Beyond that, it didn't tell me a tremendous amount.
"Another piece of the puzzle," I said. "Do you have the cards with you now?"
"Yes, they're right in front of me."
"Could you read me the messages?"
"They don't say very much." I waited, and he said, "Well, there's no reason not to read them. This is the first card. `Dear Mom and Dad. Hope you haven't been worrying about me. Everything is fine. Am in New York and like the big city very much. School got to be too much of a hassle. Will explain everything when I see you.' " His voice cracked a little on that line, but he coughed and went on. "
`Please don't worry. Love, Wendy.' "
"And the other card?"
"Hardly anything on it. `Dear Mom and Dad. Not bad, huh? I always thought Florida was strictly for wintertime, but it's great this time of year. See you soon.
Love, Wendy.' "
He asked me how things were going. I didn't really know how to answer the question. I said I had been very busy and was putting a lot of bits and pieces together but that I didn't know when I would have something to show him. "Wendy was sharing her apartment with another girl for several months before Vanderpoel came on the scene."
"Was the other girl a prostitute?"
"I don't know. I rather doubt it, but I'm not sure. I'm seeing her tomorrow.
Evidently she was someone Wendy knew at college. Did she ever mention a friend named Marcia Maisel?"
"Maisel? I don't think so."
"Do you know the names of any of her friends from college?"
"I don't believe I do. Let me think. I seem to recall that she would refer to them by first names, and they didn't stick in my mind."
"It's probably unimportant. Does the name Cottrell mean anything to you?"
"Cottrell?" I spelled it, and he said it aloud again. "No, it doesn't mean anything to me. Should it?"
"Wendy used a firm by that name as a job reference when she signed her apartment lease. The firm doesn't seem to exist."
"Why did you think I would have heard of it?"
"Just a shot in the dark. I've been taking a lot of them lately, Mr. Hanniford.
Was Wendy a good cook?"
"Wendy? Not as far as I know. Of course she may have developed an interest in cooking at college. I wouldn't know about that. When she
I thought for a few minutes, then dialed a special number. When a woman picked up, I said,
"Patrolman Lewis Pankow, Sixth Precinct. I have a listing that's temporarily out of service, and I have to know in what name it's listed."
She asked the number. I gave it to her. She asked me to please hold the line.
I sat there with the phone against my ear for almost ten minutes before she came back on the line.
"That's not a temporary disconnect," she said. "That's a permanent disconnect."
"Can you tell me who the number was assigned to last?"
"I'm afraid I can't, officer."
"Don't you keep that information on file?"
"We must have it somewhere, but I don't have access to it. I have recent disconnects, but that was disconnected over a year ago, so I wouldn't have it. I'm surprised it hasn't been reassigned by now."
"So all you know is that it's been out of service for more than a year."
That was all she knew. I thanked her and rang off. I poured myself a drink, and by the time it was gone I decided that Hanniford ought to be back in his office.
I was right.
He told me he had managed to find the postcards. The first one, postmarked New York, had been mailed on June 4. The second had been mailed in Miami on September 16.
"Does that tell you anything, Scudder?"
It told me she had been in New York in early June if not before then. It told me she had taken the Miami trip prior to signing the lease on her apartment.
Beyond that, it didn't tell me a tremendous amount.
"Another piece of the puzzle," I said. "Do you have the cards with you now?"
"Yes, they're right in front of me."
"Could you read me the messages?"
"They don't say very much." I waited, and he said, "Well, there's no reason not to read them. This is the first card. `Dear Mom and Dad. Hope you haven't been worrying about me. Everything is fine. Am in New York and like the big city very much. School got to be too much of a hassle. Will explain everything when I see you.' " His voice cracked a little on that line, but he coughed and went on. "
`Please don't worry. Love, Wendy.' "
"And the other card?"
"Hardly anything on it. `Dear Mom and Dad. Not bad, huh? I always thought Florida was strictly for wintertime, but it's great this time of year. See you soon.
Love, Wendy.' "
He asked me how things were going. I didn't really know how to answer the question. I said I had been very busy and was putting a lot of bits and pieces together but that I didn't know when I would have something to show him. "Wendy was sharing her apartment with another girl for several months before Vanderpoel came on the scene."
"Was the other girl a prostitute?"
"I don't know. I rather doubt it, but I'm not sure. I'm seeing her tomorrow.
Evidently she was someone Wendy knew at college. Did she ever mention a friend named Marcia Maisel?"
"Maisel? I don't think so."
"Do you know the names of any of her friends from college?"
"I don't believe I do. Let me think. I seem to recall that she would refer to them by first names, and they didn't stick in my mind."
"It's probably unimportant. Does the name Cottrell mean anything to you?"
"Cottrell?" I spelled it, and he said it aloud again. "No, it doesn't mean anything to me. Should it?"
"Wendy used a firm by that name as a job reference when she signed her apartment lease. The firm doesn't seem to exist."
"Why did you think I would have heard of it?"
"Just a shot in the dark. I've been taking a lot of them lately, Mr. Hanniford.
Was Wendy a good cook?"
"Wendy? Not as far as I know. Of course she may have developed an interest in cooking at college. I wouldn't know about that. When she
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