Read Online A Night at the Operation by JEFFREY COHEN - Free Book Online

any idea how much the government can find out about you from your ATM records?” I asked him.
    “I’m the chief of police, Elliot. I am the government. And I don’t really think that the fact you withdrew twenty dollars from your checking account on a Friday night is really a dangerous piece of information.”
    I decided to change the subject, since Dutton was showing troublesome signs of having a point. “Anyway, why can’t we take the addresses from these card purchases and trace Sharon, maybe back to the hotel?”
    “I called the hotel already. Sharon is not listed as a guest there, and never has been. The card didn’t pay for a room, only a bar bill. Still, you wouldn’t want useful records like that to show up in your file if you ever disappeared, would you?” Dutton grinned and suddenly seemed very Bill Cosby- esque. I half expected him to put on a colorful sweater and eat some pudding.
    Summoning my best judgment, I ignored him. “If someone’s holding her against her will, the room could be in that person’s name, couldn’t it?”
    “Yes, but since you’re so interested in preserving our citizens’ privacy, I assume you think it would be a bad idea for me to get the name of every single guest in the hotel, and then show it to a civilian like yourself to see if any of the names ring a bell?”
    “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” I asked.
    “I don’t see why I should.”
    “Well, if you want to show me the list, you can say whatever you want about my commitment to privacy or my hypocrisy.”
    “I didn’t get the list. It wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. I sincerely doubt a kidnapper would register at a hotel under his own name.”
    “Chief,” I said, trying to banish any number of unpleasant thoughts from my mind, “what if the person who broke into my place didn’t have anything to do with Sharon’s disappearance?”
    “Wasn’t that the theory you were espousing?” A police chief who says “espousing.” That’s Midland Heights for you. The town probably requires an IQ test of potential residents.
    “I’m still espousing it, but just in case. I’m thinking out loud. Aside from the coincidence, it doesn’t really add up to much. Breaking into my house doesn’t get a kidnapper, a blackmailer, or anybody else anything they could use against Sharon.”
    Dutton’s eyes narrowed. “So?”
    “So, let’s guess for a moment that the person who has a grudge against Sharon is a member of Russell Chapman’s family, or someone who doesn’t appreciate the idea that he’d leave her some money.”
    “It’s a stretch, but okay, let’s guess that.” Dutton, as he often does when thinking, put his hands together in a pyramid, index fingers and thumbs touching. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
    “What does that person get from breaking into my house?”
    “Nothing, apparently,” Dutton said. “So, what does that tell us?”
    I stood up and started to pace. “That maybe the person who broke into my house was looking for Sharon.”
    Dutton opened his eyes. The phone rang, and he picked it up, listened for a moment, and offered me the receiver. “It’s for you,” he said.
    I pondered that, since no one but Dutton and I knew I was there. But I took the phone.
    “Elliot?” Sophie’s voice asked.
    “How did you know I was here, Sophie?”
    “Caller ID from when you called me, duh .” Nobody can make you feel as terminally stupid as a teenage girl.
    “What’s up?”
    “The guy says he needs to break the floor.”
    I considered the possibility that Sophie was speaking in code, and remembered she was dealing with the plumber. “What do you mean, ‘break the floor’?”
    “He says the pipes are set in concrete, and he needs to break the floor to get at the broken part.”
    “Tell him no,” I said. “He can’t break the floor.”
    “ Elliot , I don’t have time to fool around with this. I’ve got to start setting up college tours, and work