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Jeremy’s smile faded and his eyes turned serious as he met Mason’s. He had to look down, not much, but a little. “What did Aunt Rachel see?”
“Eva Quaid,” he said. “I guess she wants to be found.”
Jeremy’s eyes shifted past Mason’s right shoulder. Mason turned to see a woman coming their way. She was tall, for a woman, had dark hair with a few silver strands in the bangs across her forehead, big nose, ready smile, and a badge on her trouser-belt. She extended her hand, and said, “Detective Brown?”
“Detective Scott,” he said, gripping for a shake. Her hand was damn near as big as his. “This is Officer Brown.”
Jeremy shook.
“Your son?” she asked,
“Nephew,” Jeremy answered for him, with a smile Mason’s way.
“Nice. It’s Jen, by the way. Café Cop is on the corner. Shall we?”
They fell into step in an uneven line that allowed for collapse in case of oncoming pedestrians, Detective Jen Scott leading the way to an outdoor table at The Corner Café. Mason guessed Café Cop must be its unofficial name.
“Hey, Jen,” said a young waiter. “The usual?”
“Strong and black as always, Kelly.”
“Ditto,” Mason said.
“I’ll take an iced tea,” Jeremy put in.
Kelly was off in a flash.
“So, you said on the phone you’re interested in a cold case? The mermaid, right?”
“How’d you guess?” Mason asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first to ask. You’re not the hundred-and-first to ask. But you are the first cops, so I figured that was worthy of a meeting. You said you were from, uh?—”
“Binghamton.”
“And you heard about the cold case on that freaking podcast, and decided, what? To come out here and solve it?”
“Nothing like that,” Mason said. “It’s personal. My niece works at The Sapphire Club. I don’t know, it’s just my cop sense twitching. I want to make sure she’s safe.”
“Ohhhh. Right. Is your niece Misty, by chance?”
“You know her?”
“I met her at the club. Her roommate is the podcaster, you know. Yeah, you know that. So, are you, like, here to get info for the show?”
“Absolutely not. I’m asking a personal favor as a professional courtesy. You have my word as a cop, it won’t go further, and nothing I get from you will end up on that podcast.”
She looked at him for a long moment. She had large eyes, very round, dark brown. “Exactly what is the personal favor you’re asking?”
“I’d like to see everything you have on Eva Quaid.”
She pressed her lips together, placed a palm on the table and said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I have to give it to that Ziglar person anyway. We’ve had her FOIA request for a— well, you know how it is. It’s all digitized. I can send you the files.” She tapped her phone, then passed it to him.
He entered his number into her contacts and handed it back. “Thanks very much. I appreciate the help.”
