“We’re looking for Timothy Dornan. Can you call him to the office for us? It’s police business.”
“Oh, my, I hope he’s not in trouble.”
“No. We just need to talk to him.”
She flashed Sal a huge grin, patted his hand and returned to her desk. A few seconds later she returned. “I buzzed his homeroom and asked Mr. Martin to send him.” Twirling a strand of hair, “Is there anything else I can assist you with… Sal?”
I sighed. The big teddy bear had done it again. Another slavish female with googly eyes for Salvador.
“No thanks, …”
“MaryBeth.”
“MaryBeth. I think I’m set, thanks.”
We returned to the lobby to wait for Timothy.
“What is it with you and women? I’m bigger, prettier, thinner, funnier. They look at me like I’m lint on a blue suit.”
“You don’t talk to them with your eyes, Nick. Someday I’ll teach you how to do it.”
“I could rip that grin right off your fuzzy face.”
“And what? Set the entire female population of Bandon on a vengeful course of destroying you?” He snuffed. “I don’t think so.”
The clattering squeak of running shoes on waxed linoleum telegraphed the arrival of Dornan.
“Hi! You looking for Tim?”
“You’re not him?” I asked.
“No. I’m Peter Braul. Rhymes with school.” He said it in a single breath. Once a joke, probably. “Tim’s not here today. Mister Williams said I should tell you that.”
“Where’d he go? He was on his way here this morning.”
Braul, rhymes with school, looked over his shoulder. “I saw him in the parking lot this morning. He flashed a wad of money and said he was taking Dorothy to Eugene for the day to spend it.”
“Dorothy is…”
“Girlfriend. Dorothy Flack. Rhymes with stack, if you get my meaning.”
“And Tim has a car?”
“Well, a mini-pickup, actually. Ranger.”
“So he doesn’t walk to school?”
That made Braul laugh. “Nah. Tim hates to walk. He drives everywhere. Even up to the DQ which is, what, two blocks away?”
Sal asked, “And Dorothy has been dating Tim for how long?”
“Since forever.”
“Did you see him yesterday?” I asked.
“Almost every day. We hang a lot.”
“Did he have the money then?”
“Didn’t act like it. Never mentioned it.”
“Did he give you any clue he was going to Eugene today?”
“Nope. In fact, we planned on skipping last period and going to Langlois for hot dogs. His mom expects him home right after school, so we have to go during last period in order to be home right after last bell.”
“What color is the Ranger?”
“Well, mostly brown, but it has a blue left front fender.”
“How much money you think he had?”
“At least a couple hundred.”
“Big bills? Little bills?”
“Twenties, it looked like. Fresh out of the magic money machine.”
Sal, scratching his beard, his way of assembling thoughts or questions, “So he doesn’t have a job. He’s a good old fashioned C student. Isn’t on a sports team and is smarter than the average bear but school bores him to death.”
Braul laughed. “Gee, you sound like Sherlock Holmes. How’d you guess that stuff?”
“Is my friend right?”
“Down the line.”
Sal nodded.
Sal’s like that. The three-dimension puzzle solver. Give him a fact or two and he’ll provide a dead-on analysis. That’s what makes us so suited for working together. I can fit random pieces of a puzzle together. Two dimensions. Sal has trouble with that kind of tidbit gathering.
“Thanks Peter.”
“Call me Pete.”
“Rhymes with feet.” The kid looked at me like I’d just stepped in dog doo. I waved him away and he took off down the hall.
Sal and I settled back into the Crown Vic. I called Forte and filled him in on our conversation with Braul and the fact Dornan was MIA.
Forte mulled that for a second. “Think he made the bomb?”
“No. Think he got paid to find it and let you know where it was.”
“Okay. I’ll put the word out to look for his Ranger. Brown with a blue fender?”
“That’s it.”
“Thanks, Nick. By the way, we’ve got troops from the PD and fire department beating the bushes to find propane tanks. No one’s reported back yet.”
“Sal and I have checked a few other areas we think you should take a close look at. I’ll text you those spots.”
Disconnecting from my call, Sal punched in a few coordinates into his iPhone and sent a Bandon map with possible bomb locations marked in “X” to Forte.
“Done.”
Putting the Vic into gear, we idled away from the school up to Franklin, left to Eleventh and right toward Bandon City Park with its miniature version of the “Welcome to Bandon” arch. The Barn community center abuts a children’s play park, city library and Sprague Theater where plays and other events take place.
For a small town run efficiently, the buildings – except The Barn – are newer, buff colored modern facilities and the product of a population that is willing to hang onto some of the finer pieces of its past while adding polish to the present. There’s a sense of pride among these folks that transcends the so-common negative vibes radiated from many small towns that have seen their existence and jobs nearly demolished by disappearing timber, logging, ship-building and industrial enterprise. Playground slides and swings and geodesic climbing structures continue to be clean, bright, colorful attractions never appearing misused or ignored. The Little League ball field while dusty in the unusual heat still had its grass evenly
