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“Well enough.”
“Great.” Perlmutter smiled at her, a teacher approving of the answer. “And you have kids, right?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Eight and six.”
“Eight and six,” he repeated with a wistful smile. “Man, those are great ages. Not babies, and not teens yet.”
Grace decided to wait him out.
“Mrs. Lawson, has your husband ever disappeared before?”
“No.”
“Are there any problems with the marriage?”
“None.”
Perlmutter gave her a skeptical look. He didn’t wink, but he came close. “Everything is perfect, eh?”
Grace said nothing.
“How did you and your husband meet?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked—”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m just trying to get a feel here.”
“A feel for what? Have you found something or not?”
“Please.” Perlmutter tried on what he must have believed was a disarming smile. “I just need to get some stuff down. For background, okay? Where did you and Jack Lawson meet?”
“In France.”
He wrote it down. “You’re an artist, aren’t you, Mrs. Lawson?”
“Yes.”
“So you were overseas studying your art?”
“Captain Perlmutter?”
“Yes.”
“No offense, but this line of questioning is bizarre.”
Perlmutter glanced at Daley. He shrugged to signal that he meant no harm. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Have you learned something or not?”
“I believe Officer Daley explained to you that your husband is of age, that we really aren’t obligated to tell you anything?”
“He did.”
“Right, well, we don’t think he’s met up with foul play, if that’s your concern.”
“What makes you say that?”
“No evidence of such.”
“Meaning,” she said, “that you haven’t found bloodstains or anything like that?”
“That’s correct. But more than that”—Perlmutter looked over at Daley again—“we did find something that, well, we probably shouldn’t share with you.”
Grace adjusted herself in the seat. She tried very hard to meet his eye, but he wouldn’t face her. “I’d very much appreciate knowing what you found.”
“It’s not much,” Perlmutter said.
She waited.
“Officer Daley called your husband’s office. He’s not there, of course. I’m sure you know that already. He also didn’t call in sick. So we decided to investigate a little more. Unofficially, you understand.”
“Right.”
“You were helpful enough to give us your car’s E-ZPass number. We ran it through the computer. What time did you say your husband went out last night?”
“Around ten o’clock.”
“And you thought that maybe he went to the grocery store?”
“I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“He just upped and left?”
“Right.”
“And you never asked him where he was going?”
“I was upstairs. I heard the car start up.”
“Okay, here’s what I need to know.” Perlmutter let go of the paunch. His chair creaked as he leaned forward. “You called him on the cell phone. Pretty much right away. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, see, that’s the problem. Why didn’t he answer you? I mean, if he wanted to talk to you?”
Grace saw where he was going with this.
“Do you think your husband—what?—got in an accident right away? Or maybe someone grabbed him within minutes of leaving your house?”
Grace hadn’t really thought about that. “I don’t know.”
“Do you ever drive up the New York Thruway?”
The change of subject threw her. “Not often, but sure, I’ve taken it.”
“Ever go to Woodbury Commons?”
“The outlet mall?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been, yes.”
“How long do you figure it takes to get there?”
“Half an hour. Is that where he went?”
“I doubt it, not at that hour. The stores are all closed. But he used his E-ZPass at the tollbooth on that exit at precisely 10:26 P.M. It leads to Route 17, and heck, that’s how I go to the Poconos. Give or take ten minutes either way, that would fit a scenario where your husband left your house and drove straight in that direction. From there, well, who knows where he went? It’s fifteen miles to Interstate 80. From there you can go straight to California if you’d like.”
She sat there.
“So add it up, Mrs. Lawson. Your husband leaves the house. You call him immediately. He doesn’t answer. Within a half hour or so, we know he’s driving in New York. If someone had attacked him or if he got in an accident, well, there’s no way he could have been snatched and then his E-ZPass used up there in that short a time frame. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Grace met his eye. “That I’m a hysterical bimbo whose husband ran out on her.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just . . . Well, we really can’t investigate any further at this point. Unless . . .” He leaned a little closer. “Mrs. Lawson, is there anything else you can think of that could help us here?”
Grace tried not to squirm. She glanced behind her. Officer Daley had not moved. She had a copy of the strange photograph in her purse. She thought about Fuzz Pellet Josh and the store not opening. It was time to tell them. In hindsight she should have told Daley about it when it first showed up.
“I’m not sure it’s relevant,” she began, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a copy of the photograph and passed it to Perlmutter. Perlmutter took out a pair of reading glasses, cleaned them with his shirttail, and pushed them into place. Daley walked around and bent down over the captain’s shoulder. She told them about finding the photograph mixed in with her others. The two officers stared at her as if she’d taken out a razor and started shaving her head.
When Grace was done, Captain Perlmutter pointed to the picture and said, “And you’re sure that’s your husband?”
“I think so.”
