The Last of the Moon Girls(21)
Lizzy held his gaze, unflinching. If he was trying to push her buttons, he was wasting his time. There wasn’t a cliché she hadn’t heard over the years—and learned to ignore. Nor was she surprised by his attitude. He’d never hidden his belief in Althea’s guilt, or his feelings about the Moons in general. Prejudices that were likely greased by his priggish wife, Miriam, who served as organist at the First Congregational Church and had been in the front row of the so-called prayer vigil for Heather and Darcy Gilman, throwing around words like heathenry and godlessness for the TV cameras.
“Can you tell me the last time you made any kind of inquiries? Spoke to anyone about what they might remember around the time the girls went missing?”
“It’s been . . . some time.”
“Does that mean months? Years?”
Summers flicked his cigarette into the parking lot and squared his shoulders. “This is Salem Creek, Miss Moon, not New York City. We’re a small town, with a small police force, and even smaller coffers. That means we have to pick and choose how we allocate our resources. And if you’ll pardon me for being blunt, I have better things to do with those resources than squander them on an eight-year-old case that’s every bit as cold as those girls.”
Lizzy gaped at him, stunned by his callousness. As far as he was concerned, the Gilman girls were nothing but a case number, something to be checked off a list, a matter of resources spent. She pulled in a breath, counted to ten. She’d come to ask for his assistance. Losing her temper wouldn’t help.
“I’m sure it’s terrible for you, Chief Summers. But I have no budget. And, as you might guess, I have my own reasons for wanting to know what happened to those girls. I’d like to think that as the chief of police, getting to the truth is just as important to you as it is to me.”
“Of course it is. I take my duties to this community very seriously.”
“Then you won’t mind if I do a little asking around on my own, about what people may remember from that time?”
“As a matter of fact, I do mind.” He was simmering now, throwing off the scent of hot metal as he struggled to tamp down his anger. “This town was turned upside down when those girls disappeared. It was like a circus. Media crawling all over the place, talking about serial killers and god knows what else. It was five years before you could sell a piece of property in this town. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, because we both know you do. Call it superstition, but when people get a whiff of that sort of thing, they run the other way. It’s taken years, but things are finally back to normal around here, and I don’t need you poking your nose in, stirring up things folks would just as soon forget.”
“And what about the Gilmans? How do you think they feel, knowing whoever killed their daughters is walking free? Do you honestly think they give a damn about their property values?”
“I assure you, Miss Moon, if I could have brought a case against the killer, I would have done so years ago. I understand your stake in all of this, but it’s pointless now, isn’t it? Your grandmother’s gone, and so are those girls. And nothing you or anyone else does is going to bring them back. Sometimes justice takes care of itself. Why not do us all a favor and leave the dead buried?”
It took everything Lizzy had not to fly at him. He’d as good as admitted that Althea had done him a favor by dying, bringing things to a tidy end. And maybe it had ended for him. But it hadn’t for her. “I’d like to speak to the detective in charge of the case.”
Summers let out a sigh, clearly weary of the conversation. “As I’ve already stated, the case was closed years ago. As for Roger Coleman, he left the department a few years back. Bit of an odd bird, Coleman. Pot stirrer, some would say. I don’t think anyone’s heard from him since he moved away.”
“Moved away where?”
Summers shrugged. “No idea. He stopped being my problem the day he turned in his badge. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a luncheon with Mayor Cavanaugh. He’s retiring after seventeen years, and I’d like to pay my respects.”
He was reaching for the door when Lizzy stopped him. It was a long shot, but she had to ask. “I don’t suppose you’d let me look at the case file?”
“You suppose correctly.” He nodded then, coolly polite, and was gone.
Lizzy didn’t realize she was trembling until she got back behind the wheel. Summers had been about as helpful as expected, and twice as loathsome, but she hadn’t come away empty-handed. She had a name—Roger Coleman. Now all she needed to do was find him.
Her cell phone went off as she pulled out of the parking lot. Luc. She clicked the hands-free to answer. “What’s up?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. How’s it going?”
“It’s going.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I just got here.”
“I know. I just figured you’d be itching to get out of there.” He chuckled dryly. “Ghosts of your past, and all that.”
Lizzy blew out a breath. Ghosts indeed.
“There’s been a development, Luc. Two, actually. This trip might end up taking a little longer than I expected. Apparently, the house needs a ton of work. According to Andrew, I’ll be lucky to sell it at all.”