Chapter 24–Tuesday, 7:47PM

The courthouse was dark and the parking spaces plentiful when the chief pulled up at the back of the building. He stayed in the car waiting. At exactly 8:00pm, Monte exited, locking the door. Herb watched as he walked away to the south. Herb knew he’d catch the bus two blocks south. The tomato didn’t own a car. “I can ride the bus a thousand times a year for the price of a car and insurance,” he always said.

When Monte was out of sight, Herb stepped from his car and walked briskly to the now unguarded entrance. He pulled out his badge as he approached and waved it over the card reader. There would be a record of his entry for all who cared to read it, but few bothered checking the nighttime entry log and those who did would barely raise an eyebrow at the chief’s name.

Inside, Herb walked past the empty checkpoint and down the hall to Central. The office was dimly lit when Herb slipped through the door. The only bright lights came from Frond’s office. The chief walked straight to the shrink’s door and knocked on the frame.

The avocado looked up from his desk. He had a phone to his ear. “Come in, Herb,” he whispered covering the mic. “I’ll be with you in sec.”

Herb looked around the office as he waited. It was richly ornamented. Beautiful pictures of the hanging gardens of Babylon hung on either side of the dark mahogony book shelves. Herb knew they were the good doctor’s own shots, taken when he was on vacation two months earlier. Frond had spoken of little else for weeks after he returned. The chief scanned the book titles in the man’s library. Wilted and Worried by Dr. Filbert. Mentally Disturbed Herbs by Fernando Oregano. Psychotic Plants by Dr. Art Green Bean.

“Sorry about that,” Frond said as he hung up the phone.

Herb turned to face the psychologist. Frond picked up a bottle of Miracle Gro and took a swig, then stepped around his desk.

“Follow me,” he said walking past the chief and out the door. Herb jumped up and ran to catch up.

The avocado paused at a locked door, fumbling with a key. A second later, he pushed into the police file room. He walked directly to a cabinet near the front of the room. Pulling open the middle drawer, he pointed and spoke. “The file you’re looking for should be right here,” he said. “It’s not.”

“It’s gone!” Herb was shocked.

“Gone? Improbable,” Frond responded calmly. “Misplaced more likely. I checked the computer. The database says there’s a record here somewhere. It directed me here and I came up empty.”
Herb shook his head. “Why can’t anything be easy?” he fretted.

Frond ignored the question and went on. “Sally will be in tomorrow at 8:00am,” he said. “She’ll find it in a second.”

“Can’t you call her in now?” Herb was growing impatient. “I need this info.”

“Normally, I could,” the psychologist spoke stiffly. “But she’s been on vacation. Her plane doesn’t arrive until 10:25pm tonight.”

“Call her then,” Herb demanded.

“I will not!” The psychologist was clearly offended. “8:00am. You can wait.”

Herb turned and stormed from the room.