Marvin Maxwell greeted Collin at the door with a hearty handshake.
“Come on in”
Collin followed him to a room that in the days when the Victorian house had been built would be called the parlor. Marvin motioned for Collin to sit and poked the fire to keep it burning. It felt to Collin like the fireplace was the only source of heat for the room. This was odd because Marvin Maxwell gave all appearances of having money. The home and grounds were well cared for and there had been two BMW’s in the garage Collin passed on his way in. It was going to be sixty degrees again today; maybe they used the fireplace just on this floor.
After Collin sat down a frail woman entered the room and sat near the fire.
“Maggie, this is Collin Carter. The man I was telling you helped Hazel.”
“This is my wife, Maggie.”
“How do you do? How can I help you folks?”
Maggie spoke in a whisper, “My niece has run away from her parents and I’m worried about her.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
Maggie continued, “She is nineteen years old. She wants to work instead of going to college like her parents want her to.”
“That’s pretty common.”
“I know but this is different. She told her mother that she was going to make a million dollars working for some place called Gene Search. She said she heard about it on the radio.”
“A million dollars! Well what kind of things do you have to do for a million dollars?”
“That’s what worries me. Can you find out what she is doing and if there is any truth to her story? Her mother won’t agree to hire someone to spy on her daughter. She knows the story doesn’t sound true but as long as Shelby - that’s her name, Shelby Radcliff - as long as Shelby keeps calling her mother once a week, she feels the girl is safe. The phone number she is calling from has a 443 area code.”
Collin said he would be happy to help them and explained his fees. Mister Maxwell agreed with the fees and asked, “How often will you update us?”
“I’ll call you at the beginning of next week and if I have something to show you I’ll come up.”
Maggie whispered, “Thank you so much.”
Marvin walked Collin out to his car.
“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your wife’s voice?”
“Maggie has a degenerative larynx. It’s part of a condition that occurs in her family. Not everyone gets it. Thanks for taking our case. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
Collin shook Mister Maxwell’s hand and got in his car. He gave a little wave as he drove off. Driving down Route 270 toward home, Collin couldn’t believe that he had a second case so close behind the Holt case. This one was even kind of different. He had missing person cases before but none where the person had run off to make a million! He had gotten a picture of Shelby Radcliff and the phone number she had used to call her aunt. Shelby’s mother apparently didn’t want to help find her. But Collin might be able to trace the number Maggie had given him.
Collin drove from Hagerstown to his office. He picked up lunch from the deli again. After he checked his machine for messages he did an internet search for Gene Search nothing but references to the individual words, gene and search, came up.
He called Lily at work. “Guess what? I’ve got another big case.”
“Well aren’t you special.”
“Have you ever heard of Gene Search?”
“Yes, on the radio. They are advertising that you can make up to a million dollars if you have the right DNA. Your not selling your DNA are you?
“What? What does that mean: the right DNA?”
“The commercials don’t say any more than that. Why do you ask?”
“I’m looking for a girl that ran off after telling her parents she was joining Gene Search.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll write down the contact number if I hear the commercial again.”
“Thanks, Sweetie; did I tell you how much I loved your hair this morning?”
“Yes you did. I love you too. Got to go, the lady in room five is about to pop.”
“Bye. Love you bunches.”
“Bye.”
Collin finished his lunch. Then he called the phone number Missus Maxwell had said her niece had called them from. It rang a long time but nobody picked it up. He figured the business was probably incorporated. He started a search on the internet for corporations by state. He wasn’t getting very far when Lily called him back.
“I’ve got the number.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Probably starve. Here’s the number. Love you. See you later.”
Collin wrote down the number. It was an 888 number. He dialed it.
“Gene Search. How may I help you?” The voice was lovely.
“I heard about you on the radio,” he lied.
“I’m so glad you called. Can I send you our welcome packet?”
“Well, yes. What’s in it?”
“It explains who we are and how we can help you help yourself. I’m going to put you through to one of our staff that will take your information and send that welcome packet right to you.”
Before Collin could ask anything else, he was transferred. He got an automated message that explained that all operators were busy helping others. It gave him the option to leave his name and address so he did. The electronic voice promised him a welcome packet within three to five business days then terminated the call. Collin logged the time spent on the Maxwell case into his billing system. He turned on the TV news.
The lead story was about an accident on the Virginia side of the Washington beltway. They were reporting that the police and rescue vehicles were blocking the two left lanes where the accident had occurred. Somehow a car had hit the median and burst into flames. The TV station had a helicopter overhead. The pictures were of a smashed partially burned vehicle. Collin could barely make out that it had once been a Camaro. The car was a pale green which struck Collin as odd because he had seen a pale green Camaro less than a week before. Missus Holt’s lover drove a pale green Camaro.
Since he had nothing else to do while he waited the three-five business days for Gene Search to send him his welcome packet, he pulled the Holt file and called a friend on the Virginia State Police force.
“Hey, Donnie. It’s Collin.”
“What’s up?”
“I see that a green Camaro got smashed on the beltway.”
“Yeah. I heard about that. The guy got airlifted to the hospital but he died on the way. The preliminary story is that someone ran him into the barrier.”
“That’s too bad. How old was the guy? I kind of know somebody with a Camaro that color.”
“His driver’s license makes him 31. Is it part of a case?”
“Yeah. If the license plate was a Virginia tag QQB819.”
“Let me look. So happens it was.”
“Can you give me his name?”
“You can get that yourself from the DMV.”
“That would take days and I’d have to fill out the form.”
“Thomas Stevenson.”
“Thanks, Donnie. Could you let me know when you find out what actually happened?”
“Sure. Might be a while. I’m sure there were lots of drivers on the beltway at the time but it is hard to get witnesses to come forward in cases like this. I’ll let you know what the paint analysis says when we get it.”
Collin was surprised to find Missus Holt’s lover killed by someone shoving him into the barrier and taking off. It had to have been an accident; though stranger things had happened. Could Doctor Holt have been angry enough and crazy enough to have done the guy in? He’d wait until his friend could tell him what had actually happened before he considered the possibility that Doctor Holt had become a murderer. Though he might check out what cars Doctor Holt and his wife had registered to see if any matched the paint analysis when it came back. Collin shut down the office and went home. He had the evening to himself since
Lily had gone to the baby shower. Pizza and beer for dinner. Just like old times.