Chapter 29
Newest fact about Molly Jenkins: she liked to drink. I looked at the PI’s report, page 9 including an inventory of her trash can, photos next to an inventory list. I scanned it, my fingers tapping alongside the items as I moved down the page.
12 empty bottles: Smirnoff Ice
4 empty cans: Bud Light
Tags from an article of clothing: Gap. $24.99
Dry Cleaning receipt: One Price Cleaners
Empty bottle: Kahlua
Empty bottle: Absolut Vanilla Vodka
Thank you card and envelope from ‘Mom’: see photo
Monthly statement from Capital One credit card: see photo
Empty Bag of Nacho Cheesier Doritos
I called him, musing over the list as the phone rang.
“Yes, Ms. Fairmont.”
“Is this normal? All the alcohol?”
“It’s the first bag we’ve inventoried. It’s from last week. I left off all of the food items, but if you’d like we can also include those.”
“Food items?”
“You know, banana peels, coffee grounds, leftovers, egg shells—”
“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t need all that. Just items like this. When will you have the rest of the bags done?”
“I can put someone on it today, if you think it’d be important.”
“Yes. Please send me all of the reports as they are done. As soon as possible.”
“I’ll pull people off other projects. Get it to you quickly.”
“Thank you.” I hung up the phone, looked at the list again. Opened up the image with her credit card statement. Learned everything about her activities that month with one scroll down the bill. It was ridiculously invasive, this one aspect of the report. So much of her life broken down into simple facts by her trash. I spun in my chair. Looked at the silver can that sat feet away. Wondered how much of my life would be told through its contents. I placed a second call.
“John, this is Layana. From now on, have the housekeepers burn my trash. And buy me a shredder please. Something big and industrial.” I hung up, interrupting his response, certain that the request was simple enough for him to complete without further instruction. Then I returned to the list. Stared at the items and tried to find an opening.
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I got four more emails that afternoon, each with a new list of trash. Each list dated, covering the latest month of Molly Jenkins’s life.
More alcohol. I counted six bottles and five 6-packs. Not enough to be an alcoholic, but the girl liked to party. She was also in college, so maybe that just made her normal. I got another nugget of information in her bank account statement. Put it side by side with her credit card one and compared notes. Learned a few things.
She frequented The Ginger Break. Had been there five times in the last month, four times on a Wednesday, once on a Friday. A Google search told me it was a bar a block from her apartment. Another search told me Wednesday is $5 Martini night.
I clicked my pen, examined my calendar. Wednesday was three days off. Doable. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Pulled scattered thoughts together in a semblance of a plan.
First step. Find bait.
Second step. Sequester Lee.
Third step. Watch and enjoy.
