“When we backtracked, last anyone had seen him was the previous Friday. We thought he might have gone through ice somewhere. Checked rivers, dredged ponds, that sort of thing. Nothing. Never found Aiker or his car.”
“Any signs he planned on leaving? Emptied bank accounts? Missing prescription medications?” Zamzow shook his head. “Aiker ordered two hundred dol ars’ worth of fishing tackle over the Net the week before he disappeared. Left fourteen grand in a savings account at First Union.”
“Doesn’t sound like a man intending to take off. What about Cobb?”
“Cobb’s disappearance was harder to nail down. According to neighbors she stayed to herself, kept odd hours, often disappeared for days at a stretch.
Landlord was persuaded to open the apartment a week after Aiker disappeared. Looked like Cobb had been gone awhile.” I thought a moment.
“Were Aiker and Cobb an item?”
Zamzow frowned. “There was talk. Aiker made several trips to Charlotte while Cobb was here. Records showed they talked on the phone, but that could have been business.”
I kept my voice level to mask my excitement.
“The skeleton I examined is tal , white, and male. From what you tel me, Aiker’s age fits and so does the time frame. Sounds like it could be your missing agent.”
“As I recal , the Raleigh PD got dental records on both Aiker and Cobb. Never needed them.” I was so eager to talk to Slidel I nearly hustled Zamzow out of my office. But I had one more topic to broach.
“Do you know an agent named Palmer Cousins?”
Zamzow shifted in his chair.
“Met him.”
I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I asked, “Your impression?”
“Young.”
“And?”
“Young.”
“I talked to Cousins the other night, asked about bear poaching in the Carolinas. He seemed to know very little.” Zamzow looked me straight in the eye. “Your point?”
“He knew nothing about the smuggling of exotic birds.”
Zamzow checked his watch. Then, “Don’t know Cousins myself, but the man attracts his share of admirers.” I found the comment odd, but didn’t pursue it.
“Good luck to you, Doc.”
Zamzow stood.
I stood.
As he turned to go, I picked up the photo of Brian Aiker. “May I keep this?”
Zamzow nodded. “Don’t be a stranger.”
With that, he was gone.
Staring at the chair Zamzow had vacated, I wondered what had just happened. Throughout our conversation, the RAC had been friendly and candid. At the mention of Palmer Cousins, the man closed up like an armadil o poked with a stick.
Was Zamzow holding ranks, refusing to speak badly of a fel ow officer? Did he know something about Katy’s friend that he was unwil ing to share? Was he simply unacquainted with the man?
Tim Larabee interrupted my thoughts.
“Where’s your little pal?”
“If you mean Detective Ryan, he flew back to Montreal.”
“Too bad. He’s good for your complexion.”