Bone Box. Faye Kellerman
for ten years.
“I don’t see why I should divulge this information if the former student hasn’t even been reported missing.”
Decker said, “If the bones are his, he probably has been reported missing. We just don’t know where the report was filed. That’s why we’d like to know where he’s from. If we can rule him out, we can move on.”
“I will not give out his number without his permission.”
McAdams said, “Well, if you get his permission, then we won’t need the number.”
Decker said, “If his cell number is listed in his files, just call him up and talk to him. It won’t violate his privacy and it’ll confirm to Greenbury Police that we should concentrate our efforts elsewhere.”
“By the way, he could be a she by now,” McAdams said. “Apparently he left school to undergo sex reassignment surgery. So if a woman answers, ask him if he was the former Lawrence Pettigrew. ”
“I probably should go to my boss about this.”
“It’s a phone call, Mr. Riggins,” Decker said. “Please?”
“Hold on. Let me see first if I can find him in the files.”
“Thank you.”
“You really should bring in proper warrants or whatever you people need to search through files.”
“If Pettigrew turns out to be our bones in the woods, we’ll do just that.”
Riggins licked his lips. “How awful! I’ve hiked Bogat Trail before. That’s really creepy. It makes you wonder what else is out there. Did you find any other sinister things?”
“Not so far,” Decker said. “You say you’ve worked here for around ten years?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t remember Lawrence Pettigrew?” Decker said. “From what we’ve gathered, he was an out-there kind of guy, dressed in lots of colors and played piano all the time.”
“I don’t deal with students directly. If something is amiss in the files, I shoot them an e-mail and ask them to rectify the problem. It usually involves updating their personal information. Everything is done electronically.”
“Not a lot of face-to-face contact,” Decker said.
“Exactly.” Riggins blew out small puffs of air as he scrolled through the files on his computer. “Okay, here we go. He does list a cell phone.” He muttered some numbers to himself. After he punched in the numbers on the desk phone, Decker took the handset from him.
Riggins furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?”
“This is a homicide. It’s better if I handle it.” The phone rang and then disconnected. “Hmm …” Decker said. “That’s not good. Does he list a number for his parents?”
“You know, he does.” After putting in the numbers, Riggins gave the handset to Decker.
“Thank you.”
“If this guy is missing or dead, I’m definitely not talking to his parents.”
“Good thinking.”
The phone machine kicked in.
Hello, you’ve reached the Pettigrews. Please leave a name and number and we’ll call you back as soon as we can.
Beep.
Again Decker left his name, rank, and serial number without specifying the reason for a phone call from the police. If Lawrence Pettigrew was alive, there was no sense in alarming anyone. And if he had been missing, the parents would know exactly why he had made contact.
As they left the colleges, Decker heard a small voice calling out, “Detectives!” They both turned around to find a winded Arianna Root trying to catch up with them. She waved. They waved back. When she finally reached the two of them, she held out her hand asking silently for a minute to catch her breath.
“Take your time,” Decker said.
“Is there …” Pant, pant, pant. “Is there a place where we could talk privately?”
McAdams said, “We have a few private rooms at the police station.”
She waved the suggestion off. “I was thinking like a café.”
Decker looked at his watch. It was almost twelve. “How about Bagelmania? It’s just a block or two from where we are.”
“That’s fine.” She held her side as she walked. “Do you know for sure that you found Lawrence Pettigrew?”
“No idea,” Decker said, looking at the girl. “You knew him.”
“Yes. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jason and Quentin.”
“Fair enough,” Decker said. They reached the café and everyone sat down. McAdams took their order while Decker pulled out a notepad.
“When was the last time you saw Lawrence?”
“Around five years ago.”
“Was Pettigrew a he or a she?”
“He was dressing like a woman and he was taking hormones. Whether he actually went through with the surgery?” She shrugged. “I just ran into him. He recognized me before I recognized him. He told me he was glad that I decided to come here. He said he hoped that I was happy. I told him I was.”
“How was his affect?”
“He’s always friendly. He did seem preoccupied, though. I asked him if he wanted to get coffee and chat, but he said he was in a rush. We left it at that.”
“Can you back it up a little? How did you meet him?”
“At the Christopher Street Gay Pride Fete seven years ago when I was doing my college tour. I wanted to experience the different LGBTQ centers. I wasn’t out yet, but I knew what I was.”
McAdams came back with the bagels and coffee. He passed the food and cutlery around and then sat down.
Decker said, “She originally met Pettigrew at the gay pride fete seven years ago, but she also saw him about five years ago. She ran into him. He was taking hormones and dressing like a woman, but he hadn’t undergone sex reassignment.” He turned to Arianna. “Did I get that right?”
“Perfect.”
“Was Lawrence still calling himself Lawrence?” McAdams asked.
“He introduced himself as the former Lawrence Pettigrew. He was now calling himself Lorraine Pettigrew.”
Decker said, “Is the name Lorraine Pettigrew on the list?”
“Let me check.”
“I’ll send something out over the wire using both names.” Decker turned to Arianna. “Tell me about this Christopher Street fete where you met him. Obviously Lawrence made an impression on you.”
“He was dressed in drag, but that was no big deal. A lot of the guys were in drag. The costumes are outrageous: chaps with no underwear, feather headdresses, angel’s wings, leather thongs with leather masks and whips.”
“Sounds like Halloween in the Village,” McAdams said.
“Kinda, yeah. The party isn’t sanctioned by the administration, but as long as we mind our manners, they turn a blind eye. Lawrence came up to me and introduced himself. He was very nice—really funny and warm. I told him I was interested in Morse McKinley and he talked to me for about twenty minutes. He was articulate and smart. Actually it was because of him that I made the decision to go here.”
Decker said, “And when you ran into him about five years ago, you talked for about five minutes and that was that?”
“About.