Page 41 of The Homewreckers
He picked up the wallet and began examining it. “I understand you knew the woman this belonged to? Lanier Ragan?”
“She was our teacher, at St. Mary’s Academy,” Hattie said. “But she went missing in 2005.”
He plucked the driver’s license from the wallet and studied it. “So young,” he said under his breath. He put the license back, then dropped it into a paper evidence bag.
“Show me where you found the wallet, please,” he said, addressing Cass.
Cass walked to the back wall of the kitchen. She’d tacked a blue tarp to the exterior of the wall.
“This was an old bathroom, which we were demolishing,” she said. “At one time, there was a sink right here, and a medicine cabinet. Beside the medicine cabinet, there was a sort of slot in the wall, where people would put used razor blades. We were knocking out the old plaster and lathe when we found the wallet, sitting back here, between the wall studs.”
“My grandma’s house had one of those slots in the medicine cabinet,” he mused, kneeling down on the floor. “Any idea how that wallet could have gotten back there?”
“Only way we can figure is that someone shoved it through that slot,” Hattie said.
Makarowicz stood up slowly. “Do I wanna know what happened to the slot?”
“It’s gone,” Hattie said apologetically. “I kinda sledgehammered it. What’s left of it is out in the dumpster.”
“Under a couple dozen loads of debris,” Cass added.
“Figures.” He gestured toward the back door. “What’s outside?”
Hattie opened the door and the three of them walked onto the back porch. “See for yourself. I’m not sure when was the last time anybody lived in this house. But beyond all this jungle, there’s a little beach, and of course, the Back River. There’s an old dock and boathouse, too, but I haven’t walked out onto it, because I don’t know how safe it is.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot this is waterfront.” Makarowicz shot her a rueful smile. “I’m kind of new to Tybee. Still getting my bearings.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Moved down here six months ago, after I retired from the Atlanta Police Department. I did twenty-seven years. Detective the last eighteen, but the stress and Atlanta traffic were getting to me. High blood pressure. It was my wife’s idea to come down here to Tybee for some peace and quiet.”
“You retired and then went right back to work again as a cop?”
“Not at first. Hell of a thing. We moved down here for my health, and damned if Jenny wasn’t the one…”
Hattie saw the haunted look in his eyes. She waited.
Mak looked off toward the river. “Up and died on me. Heart attack.” He snapped his fingers. “Gone. Just like that. Suddenly, I had way too much time on my hands.”
“I know how that is,” Hattie said, touching his arm. “I lost my husband in a motorcycle accident seven years ago.”
“Jesus!” he exclaimed. “You’re so young. Not even thirty, right?”
“I’m thirty-three,” she said. “But Tybee must be pretty boring after Atlanta.”
“Oh no, lots of excitement. Already today I picked up a punk for taking a piss in some old lady’s front yard on Jones Street, and then I took a stolen bike report from a college girl who, it turns out, was so drunk she forgot the rental company came and picked it up last night.”
“A regular crime spree,” Hattie said.
Makarowicz held up the evidence bag. “Tell me this. Was she ever found?”
“Not that we know of,” Cass said. “And we probably would have heard.”
“St. Mary’s is the Catholic girls’ high school, right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hattie said. “My mother and grandmother graduated from there.”
“My mom did too,” Cass added.
