Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
“So, Sarah Gunn.” Patti reaches for a photograph on the desk. “If she’s dead, that makes four girls now in just under eight weeks.” She raises an eyebrow and lets out a guarded breath. “She’s a majorette. Twenty-one years old. Her family lives in Berryview. Wealthy parents.”
Both Elsie and Patti were shocked by Detective Bale’s slipup at the bar, but it meant another girl was missing.
The police, they have since learned, are labeling her a runaway for now, but as far as Elsie is concerned, there’s no way Sarah is a runaway.
She sees the pattern, even if the cops refuse to. She knows another girl is in danger.
“Her college roommates got worried when she didn’t return after her waitressing shift,” Patti continues. “She hasn’t been seen since.”
“Four girls.” Elsie shakes her head. “How many will it take before the police catch this guy?”
There’s something clichéd about the victims this killer is selecting, Elsie has realized.
A constant given of the universe—only the pretty, non-average get picked, even for death.
Elsie was an average adult and had been an average teenager, with acne, lank hair, a flat chest—nothing remarkable to look at—but the attention Albert lavished upon her had made her feel special, as if there was something within her, something that had nothing to do with her outward appearance, that he found utterly magnetic.
To be told she was different, unique, clever—that was more powerful to Elsie than being told she was beautiful.
She flinches at the memory, wrestling with the familiar sting of regret.
Recently she has been feeling further and further away from that na?ve, powerless young girl.
She has been looking back with pity at how moldable, dupable, meek she’d been when she was with Albert.
There’s guilt, of course, such profound, excoriating guilt that it makes her fingers tremble.
But something’s changed of late, something that leaves her incredulous at her own lack of awareness.
“The cops seem to be distracted by other things.” Patti leans back in her seat, linking her fingers across her stomach. “Maybe that’s why they’re dragging their heels.”
“What do you mean?” Elsie is pleased to move away from thoughts of the past.
“Thanks to our chat with Laurel and Hardy the other night, I did some digging on Cornwell’s surveillance op.”
Patti must have followed Greaves’ lead and looked into the audio technology Cornwell was using to surveil the Kings.
“Guess who owns the company providing all the technology for that op,” Patti says, “and who is getting paid handsomely to do so.”
Elsie cocks her head.
“Broderick Arnold,” Patti responds, eyes wide with satisfaction.
“The department store guy?” Elsie’s heard of him before. In fact, she’s pretty sure he owns the store that Margot works in.
“And guess what Broderick Arnold is,” Patti continues.
“Incredibly wealthy?” Elsie quips.
Patti snorts. “He’s also Tom Cornwell’s brother-in-law.”
Elsie gawps.
“Uh-huh.”
“So, that means—”
“Cornwell’s pushing the Kings as suspects to justify throwing so much money at his brother-in-law’s company.” Patti fills in the gaps. “Meaning he’s literally looking the other way while someone else is out there killing these girls.”
Elsie groans with frustration. Yet again, a man in a position of significant power has proved himself to be utterly lacking in integrity.
Yet again, women have been let down. She takes the photo of Sarah and inspects it: an attractive young woman, clear eyes lined with kohl, hair slashed into an Edie Sedgwick crop.
She is wearing a college sweater emblazoned with large letters.
“Berryview,” Elsie mutters as she places the photo back on the table. “I’ve got a friend in Berryview. Do you think she’s in danger there?”
She knows she has to tell Bev that another girl has gone missing, and this one was right on her doorstep.
“She’s a woman,” Patti deadpans. “What do you think?”