CHAPTER 47

In two hours, the list of white male employees twenty to fifty years old who owned vans was completed. There were twenty-six names on it.

Missouri DMV provided hair color from driver's-licence information, but it was not used as an exclusionary factor; the Dragon might wear a wig.

Fisk's secretary, Miss Trillman, made copies of the list and passed them around.

Lieutenant Fogel was going down the list of names when his beeper went off.

Fogel spoke to his headquarters briefly on the telephone, then put his hand over the receiver. " Mr. Crawford… Jack, one Ralph Mandy, white male, thirty-eight, was found shot to death a few minutes ago in University City – that's in the middle of town, close to Washington University – he was in the front yard of a house occupied by a woman named Reba McClane. The neighbors said she works for Baeder. Her door's unlocked, she's not home. "

" Dandridge! " Crawford called. " Reba McClane, what about her? "

" She works in the darkroom. She's blind. She's from someplace in Colorado-"

" You know a Ralph Mandy? "

" Mandy? " Dandridge said. " Randy Mandy? "

" Ralph Mandy, he work here? "

A check of the roll showed he didn't.

" Coincidence maybe, " Fogel said.

" Maybe, " Crawford said.

" I hope nothing's happened to Reba, " Miss Trillman said.

" You know her? " Graham said.

" I've talked with her several times. "

" What about Mandy? "

" I don't know him. The only man I've seen her with, I saw her getting into Mr. Dolarhyde's van. "

" Mr. Dolarhyde's van, Miss Trillman? What color is Mr. Dolarhyde's van? "

" Let's see. Dark brown, or maybe black. "

" Where does Mr. Dolarhyde work? " Crawford asked.

" He's production supervisor, " Fisk said.

" Where's his office? "

" Right down the hall. "

Crawford turned to speak to Graham, hut he was already moving. Mr, Dolarhyde's office was locked. A passkey from Maintenance worked.

Graham reached in and flipped on the light. He stood still in the doorway while his eyes went over the room. It was extremely neat. No personal items were anywhere in sight. The bookshelf held only technical manuals.

The desk lamp was on the left side of the chair, so he was right-handed. Need a left thumbprint fast off a right-handed man.

" Let's toss it for a clipboard, " he said to Crawford, behind him in the hall. " He'll use his left thumb on the clip. "

They had started on the drawers when the desk appointment calendar caught Graham's eye. He flipped back through the scribbled pages to Saturday, June 28, the date of the Jacobi killings.

The calendar was unmarked on the Thursday and Friday before that weekend.

He flipped forward to the last week in July. The Thursday and Friday were blank. There was a note on Wednesday. It said: " Am 552 3: 45 – 6: 15. "

Graham copied the entry. " I want to find out where this flight goes. "

" Let me do it, you go ahead here, " Crawford said. He went to a telephone across the hall.

Graham was looking at a tube of denture adhesive in the bottom desk drawer when Crawford called from the door.

" It goes to Atlanta, Will. Let's take him out. "