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.”“Where did you hear that?” I asked.“It was on the TV news a few minutes ago.Have you found Molly?”There it was again, that cold, unemotional question, as if she were no more than a bag of clothes.“No, but the police are searching for her.We think Damon may have left her bound and gagged in a motel.Maybe drugged.”“I see.Do you have any idea which motel?”What was with this guy? If we had any idea, we would already have rescued her.“No, Mr.Crenshaw,” I said.I looked around at Jill and shook my head.“Very well, Mr.McKenzie.I’ll see what I can find out elsewhere.”You do that, I thought.And quit annoying me.37Phil Adamson called early the next morning with word they had located Molly.The clerk at a sleazy motel on the southeastern side of the city saw TV coverage of the story and thought he recognized Chad’s black pickup truck.When he heard the wife might have been drugged and left in a motel, he recalled watching the pickup driver lead a woman who appeared drunk into the room.He called the cops.Molly was in a groggy, drug-induced haze when they found her.An ambulance had transported her to the hospital, where the doctors said it would be a few hours before she could answer questions coherently.“Since she obviously trusts you guys,” Phil said, “I think it might be useful for you to be on hand when she comes around.”We met Phil and a nerdy-looking FBI agent named Markovich around nine in a crowded hospital waiting room with abstract prints on the wall.I thought I recognized one as a weird Salvador Dali painting that showed a watch bent in the middle and hanging off a table like it was made of melted wax.A family ranging from white-haired grandparents to teens in baggy pants that barely clung to their hips huddled in one corner, the grownups talking in subdued voices.We moved to the other side of the room.“They say she’ll be ready to talk to us in a few minutes,” Phil said.Agent Markovich, who might have been fresh out of college but for the thinning hair in front, eyed me with a quirky grin.“Aren’t you the guy who got my boss all riled up a while back when you were with the DA’s office?”Jill nudged my arm.“It’s confession time, Greg.”“Guilty,” I said.Phil laughed, something I’d seldom heard him do.“Greg has a knack for getting people riled up.But he usually knows what he’s doing, like with this case.”“I knew some McKenzies when I was growing up in Chicago,” Markovich said.“The old man wore his kilt on ceremonial occasions.Us kids used to laugh about the skirt, but my dad warned me those old Scots could be pretty ferocious.”“That’s true,” I said.“My granddaddy fought with a Highland regiment in the First World War.”Markovich squinted his eyes.“Did they go into battle dressed like that?”“They sure did.My dad told me about a German he met right after World War II who’d been a junior officer in the Nazi 1st SS Panzer Division.The guy claimed the Waffen SS were by far the toughest soldiers around.But he admitted they were afraid of the Scottish Highlanders.They called them ‘Devil Soldiers Wearing Skirts.’”“No kidding?” Markovich chuckled.“It’s true.This guy said he was in one encounter between a dismounted 1st SS Panzer unit and the Highlanders.He said the first warning they had was when they barely heard bagpipes in the distance.There had been a lot of rumors about what the Highlanders would do if they ever got their hands on a German.As they listened, the sounds of the pipers kept coming closer and closer.They were playing ‘Scotland the Brave.’ It spooked the Nazis so much many of them dropped their weapons and ran.He said it was the only time he’d ever seen or heard of an elite Waffen SS unit breaking and running en masse.”“Hey,” Phil said, “don’t you know it’s a very bad idea to piss off a big, red-headed guy wearing a skirt?”He looked around at Jill and was probably about to apologize, but she was already laughing.At any rate, the conversation ended as a nurse in a flowery smock came out to tell us Molly was ready.We followed her down a brightly lit corridor with an antiseptic smell to a corner room where Molly’s bed had been cranked up to a sitting position.She looked pale and haggard, but her mouth turned up in a weak smile when she saw Jill and me.“Mr.and Mrs.McKenzie, I didn’t expect you.”Jill walked over and patted her puffy hand.An IV tube ran down to her wrist.“We’ve been looking for you for a week, Molly,” Jill said.“And it’s Greg and Jill, not Mr.and Mrs.McKenzie.I know you’re Darlene’s daughter.Why didn’t you tell us?”She hung her head.“I was afraid of what you might have heard about me in the past.”“Never mind the past,” Jill said.“This is Detective Adamson and Agent Markovich, Molly.They have some questions for you.”The nurse had brought in a couple of extra chairs, and we all sat around the bed.Phil led off with a question that made Jill cringe.I reached over and took her hand.“Are you aware of what happened to your husband last night, Mrs.Saint?”Molly exhaled a sigh.“I heard he was shot when he tried to kill you and Mr.McK…uh, Greg.I didn’t know what he had done, but I suspected it was something terrible.” She looked around at Jill and me.“When I went down to his workshop that morning I called you, I found a box packed with guns and knives.He had different kinds of clothes on hangers and wigs and false whiskers in a box.”Phil leaned forward in his chair.“Did you ask him about it?”“No.I was afraid to.But when he found out I had gone down there, he demanded to know what I was doing.I said I was just looking around and was frightened by what I saw.He told me it involved a hobby but wouldn’t say anything else.Then he said we were moving, that he had won a lot of money gambling and was to pick it up on Saturday.We were leaving Nashville and would buy a nice house where we were going.I didn’t know what to believe.”Putting the story together from what she could recall between obvious bouts with drugs, some fed to her in drinks, Molly told of spending Wednesday night in the motel.They left her car there and drove Chad’s truck to the farm in Gallatin, which he claimed belonged to a friend.She wasn’t aware he had returned to Antioch that night to set the house afire, but she remembered feeling strangely groggy the next morning.She considered making an attempt to get away, but knew Chad was always armed and feared he wouldn’t hesitate to use the gun on her.Saturday afternoon, he told her the gambling debt was being paid by a man who would leave a pickup truck for him in the Gallatin Wal-Mart parking lot.He had her claim an envelope containing the key at the store’s Customer Service counter.The envelope was marked “Edgar.” Then she drove the Ford Ranger to the farm with Chad following her.Until they got back to the farm, he had acted cool but considerate.Once in the house, though, he burst into a tirade.He had gone through her handbag and found our McKenzie Investigations business card.After he threatened to beat her if she didn’t come clean, she confessed what she had done.That’s when Chad drove to a pay phone and called to threaten me if I didn’t drop the investigation.He apparently drugged her again that night and drove to Hermitage, where he burglarized our office.On Sunday he bought a newspaper, gave part of it to Molly but kept the main news section for himself.She didn’t think about it at the time, but realized now Chad was likely keeping up with the Bernstein murder case.That afternoon he told her it was time to move on, they would leave the next morning.So far he hadn’t harmed her.She decided to go along with him and watch for an opportunity to escape.She didn’t believe his tale about having won the money gambling, figuring it was more likely loot from a robbery
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