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Plummer was prescient. They spent the day getting no new information or leads. Greta finished canvassing the southern part of Pacific City west of Cape Kiwanda Drive and started on the north section. Plummer finished the eastern side and began the section of Pacific City on the other side of the Nestucca River.
They had only three days left of the week allotted by the sheriffs. They checked with each other by phone at the end of the day. Plummer sounded embarrassed.
“Uh . . . Greta. I got a call from Wallace a little while ago.”
Her antenna shot up. Any call from Wallace could bring unpleasant news.
“What did His Holiness have to say?”
The sound over the phone could have been either a cough or Plummer smothering a laugh. “He’s given out a press release about his department’s shutting down a major methamphetamine lab. Word is it’s been picked up by both the coast and some larger Oregon media outlets.”
“Let me guess. Neither of us is mentioned, but his name appears several times in the release.”
“Right on the last part, partly the first. I’m mentioned once, you not at all. Sorry, Greta. I considered going to Wallace about it but thought I should check with you first.”
In other words, it wasn’t important enough to Plummer to complain, and he figured once the story was out, Greta wouldn’t bother.
She grunted, being in no mood to let Plummer off the hook. If he was going to act like a lackey and a little toad, let him live with it.
The first time Wallace had screwed her on news reports, she was annoyed. That was the Great Abalone Caper. This second time exceeded her tolerance limit. Despite not being one to seek media mention, she was mad. It was the gall of him. Wallace cut her out and implied that any credit belonged to him. She wouldn’t say anything, knowing it would do no good. However, for the first time, the thought occurred to her that someday, somehow, she’d find a way to get payback.
CHAPTER 20
The resumption of canvassing included Greta’s second visit to the Snyder house. Helen Snyder answered the door, her curiosity changing to a worried expression when she recognized Greta.
“Yes, what is it this time?” she said guardedly.
“Hello, Mrs. Snyder. I’m sure you remember me. Deputy Sheriff Havorsford? I talked with your husband some time ago about Howard Toompas.”
“I thought Joe answered all your questions. He says he doesn’t know anything about this Toompas fellow.”
“Yes, and the sheriff’s department appreciates his and your cooperation. I’m here this time on the same case, but we’re showing photographs of Howard Toompas and his car to ask everyone in the neighborhood if they’ve seen either one. Particularly if they saw Toompas or his car around here last fall, perhaps several times.”
“You’ll have to come back when Joe is home to ask him. He’s at work up in Tillamook City at the cheese factory.”
“Actually, you’re the one I’d like to show the photos to because you’re home more than your husband.”
Mrs. Snyder didn’t seem interested in being helpful. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention to such things. Joe’s the one to ask.”
“All I want is for you take a look at the photos.”
Greta opened the folder she carried and withdrew printouts of Toompas and his car. She offered them to the woman. Mrs. Snyder first acted like she wouldn’t take them, then she relented. She looked hesitantly at the tall deputy, then glanced at the photos.
“I don’t recognize either one,” she said and held them out to Greta.
“You keep them, in case you remember later. Also, show them to your husband.”
That request yielded an expression Greta interpreted as “fat chance.”
“You might also talk to your neighbors, in case any of your memories might be jogged by looking at them together.”
“Sure. That’s fine. If that’s all, I have housework to get back to.”
Something nagged at the back of Greta’s mind. On impulse, she added, “And be aware of any other strange people or cars that might seem to be hanging around. We’re asking all residents to be on the lookout for any out-of-place vehicles and people.”
With a sharp intake of breath, the woman’s grip on the two photos tightened enough to bend the sheets. Greta could have sworn that she paled.
