As the train pulled up to the Fullerton Avenue platform McKinney’s cell phone rang. He squeezed through the crowd and stepped onto the platform to answer it. He stuck a finger in one ear to muffle the clackety-clack of the departing train and pulled out his phone.
“Hi Dad. How are things in the Windy City?”
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite daughter. Everything’s fine, Angelina.” McKinney hurried down the steps to the street as he talked. How’s N’awlins? Hot and sticky?”
“First of all it’s pronounced New Orleans. You sound like a tourist. Actually, the weather is fine. We’re having a rare cool spell. But Dad, there are bugs down here the size of Chihuahuas.”
“In the dorm?”
“No, the dorm’s okay, but I’ve seen them.”
“And how’s your roommate? You two getting along?”
“That’s the reason I’m calling. Madeleine’s twin sister, Sylvie, is missing, and Madeleine’s really upset.”
“What do you mean ‘missing’?”
“Sylvie was supposed to meet us for dinner last weekend but never showed up. She’s not answering her phone and hasn’t been in touch with anyone else in the family for over a week now. Madeleine and I went over to her apartment yesterday. She lives just off Rampart Street, near the French Quarter. Not only wasn’t she home but her mailbox was full. It looks like she hasn’t been home for awhile.”
“Did you check to see if her car was there?”
“I suggested that. Sylvie keeps her car at their parent’s house. Madeleine says that’s because it’s too difficult to find parking in the Quarter. Isn’t there something you can do, Dad?”
“Does Madeleine know her sister’s friends? Has she talked to them?”
“That’s why everyone’s so worried. A couple of Sylvie’s friends have gone missing, too. I know your next question, ‘Have they all gone on a trip together?’ I asked that, too, but Madeleine knows one of the friends pretty well and says it’s not like her to take off without telling her parents. Oh, yeah, the girl’s parents phoned the police, who are being less than helpful.”
“Well, I imagine they get a lot of missing persons reports in a city fueled by alcohol.” McKinney had continued walking as he talked, down the steps, and now, across a busy intersection. He hurried out of the way of a turning car. The driver gave him a simultaneous horn honk and middle finger salute.
“Are you outside, Dad?”
“Yep, walking to tai chi class.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any way you could take a few days off and come down here, is there?”
“I just happen to be between assignments, honey. I imagine I could drive down and spend a couple of days with y’all southern belles. I surely would love to partake of some crawfish and mint juleps.”
“Thanks, Dad. Only please, don’t talk like that when you’re here.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.