“Frank Ragan,” Molly said promptly. “What a douche. He was so heartbroken by his wife’s disappearance he started shacking up with one of his neighbors less than a year later.”
“Really? How do you come to know something like that?”
She twirled the beer can on the tabletop. “Told you I was obsessed. What else do you want to know? Last I heard, Frank was selling real estate in Orlando. He and the neighbor lady broke up awhile ago.”
“And the daughter?”
“Emma. Now that’s a sad story. She dropped out of high school, went to rehab. Last time I checked, she was working in a local tattoo parlor.”
“She didn’t move to Florida with her dad? What’s up with that?”
“Don’t know. She won’t talk. I’ve reached out a couple times, but no luck.”
“Do you have the name of the tattoo place?” Now it was Makarowicz’s turn to pull out a steno pad.
“Inkstains,” Molly said. “Want me to text you the number?”
“Yeah, that’d be good. What else do you know?”
She gave him a look. “That’s not how this works. You’re supposed to tell me stuff so I can write a great column. Maybe win a Pulitzer, or at least get a raise.”
“Honest to God. There’s nothing else to tell. The wallet was found. Eventually it’ll be sent to the state crime lab, but after sitting in a moldy wall for all these years, you can imagine how much help that’ll be.”
Her pen was poised above her notepad. “What’s the name of the son who played football for Frank Ragan?”
He considered holding it back, but relented. “Holland Creedmore. I think he does something in sales.”
“Creedmore. That sounds familiar.” She typed the name into the search bar on her phone. “Oh yeah. This town is crawling with Creedmores.” She held the phone so he could read the search engine results.
“Holland Creedmore Senior was president of the Rotary Club, on the Savannah Board of Aldermen.…”
She raised an eyebrow. “President of the Cardinal Mooney Alumni Association.” She laughed. “And Mavis Creedmore. That’s how I knew the name. A real crank. She writes indignant letters to the editor about unleashed dogs pooping in the city squares. Typewritten, in all caps. Like on a monthly basis. Once got arrested for chasing down a tourist whose chihuahua shit in front of the cathedral. Assaulted the poor guy with her cane.”
“Sounds like quite a distinguished family,” Mak said. “I think I need to talk to Holland Junior. Maybe Senior, too.”
“What’s your theory about Lanier? Usually it’s the husband who did it, am I right?”
“It’s too early for me to have a theory,” Mak said. He looked down at his notes and what he’d copied from the incident reports in the old police file.
Frank Ragan states he was reluctant to contact police when he initially discovered his wife missing because he thought she might have left “because she was pissed at him for drinking too much at a Super Bowl party the night before.” Ragan said he asked a neighbor to watch their young daughter, who was still asleep, while he drove around looking for his wife’s car, a white 2001 Nissan Altima. After he returned home, he called his wife’s closest friends, as well as her mother to ask if they’d seen Lanier. His mother-in-law then urged him to call the police, as it was unlike her daughter to go off and leave like that.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to the husband yet,” Mak said. “We’ll see.”
“Any chance she might still be alive?” asked Molly.
“You say you’ve been following this story for years. Tell me what you think.”
“Definitely dead,” Molly said. “I’ve talked to some of her former students at St. Mary’s, a couple teachers who worked with her at the school, even her college roommate at Ole Miss. Everyone agreed, even if the marriage was in trouble, she never would have walked off and left her little kid like that.”
“Was the marriage in trouble? Lanier’s mother said in the statement I read that Frank spent too much time with his team and drank too much, but had never gotten violent.”
“I don’t think it was perfect. Frank was this macho, alpha male type. Lanier, from what I hear, was sort of a dreamer, loved books. They were an unlikely couple, and she was barely twenty-two when they got married.” She started to say something else, but stopped.
Mak pounced on it. “What?”