ALLENBY
                                                   IDAHO
                                                   

Allenby town sheriff Ben Webster was having a bad day. The finances did not balance, the arrest rate was sinking, the prosecution success percentage was down and he had a fearsome boil on the back of his neck. He was piqued when Joe Gabriel knocked on the office door and stood in the doorway looking self-satisfied.

     "I have something for you, Sheriff."

     The dressing on Webster's boil was high irritation. He adjusted the desk fan angle to prevent it disturbing papers. "Okay, Joe, what have you got?"

     "I've brought a guy in you should see."

     Webster steered the neck of his shirt away from the dressing and saw Raynes in the background with a man dressed in black. "Ganford should be on patrol," Webster rasped.

     Gabriel grinned and stepped aside. "Bring our man in, Ganford."

     The moment Webster saw the newcomer; his mind tracked back to when he was slimmer and he did not have a boil on his neck. He looked to Gabriel for an explanation.

     "We pulled him at Morgan's place," said Gabriel. "He showed us an NYPD badge claiming he's Jim Lennox."

     "Show me the badge," said Webster.

     Lennox dropped it on Webster's desk.

     Webster could not accept the obvious. "Your badge is not sufficient proof of who you are."

     "Then call New York," said Lennox. "Check with my boss, Lieutenant Parker. If that isn't good enough for you, try his boss - Captain Jeavons."

     "I will try." Webster snatched up his desk phone. "Give me your number, and the code."

     Lennox gave him both, and added, "remember the time difference is two hours; my superiors could have gone home."


                                            NEW YORK CITY
                                                  
The evening sun was still powerful. Captain Jeavons raised a cup of coffee to his lips. The telephone rang. He groaned, leaned forward over the mass of paperwork on his desk, grabbed the instrument, and said gruffly, "Yes, what is it?"

     "A Sheriff Webster of Allenby, Idaho is on the line, Captain. He wishes to speak to you about Jim Lennox."

     Jeavons took a sip of strong coffee without milk and sugar. "Okay, Esther, put him on." Renouncing milk and sugar would help him lose weight, his wife had said. He tried another sip and grimaced at the taste. He shoved the phone to his left ear.

     "Hello, Jeavons speaking."

     "Howdy, Captain. I'm Sheriff Ben Webster of Allenby, Idaho."

     "What can I do you for, sheriff?"

     "Can you vouch that Jim Lennox is one of your officers?"

     "I can. Do you have a problem?"

     Webster spoke concisely. Jeavons listened with casual disinterest and then with mounting exhilaration - this call was a request by Webster to use Lennox's services in Allenby - for several weeks. Was Captain Jeavons amenable to this? Jeavons almost spilled coffee. He grinned at the mouthpiece. This call was a gift from the Gods. Having Lennox serve his remaining days outside New York City would be perfect.
     Jeavons detested Lennox for having solved a case where Jeavons, then sergeant, had fumbled and dropped the ball. That incident had cost Jeavons seniority. Losing seniority led to loss of promotion, and Colin Jeavons was a promotion-motivated officer. Jeavons' career had stagnated until a senior level death had opened a door. Jeavons passed through it to lieutenant, and several years later had made captain. Jeavons smiled and sipped coffee. Now the football was safe in his grasping hands and he was heading for touchdown.

     But, what the damn was Lennox doing in Idaho? He asked Webster to put Lennox on the line.

     "Hello, Captain."

     "Hello my ass, Jim. What are you doing in Idaho?"

     "The Amy Chalmers trail led me here."

     Jeavons had scant knowledge of that one. Parker had mentioned a young couple vanishing years ago and said a search for them could be an out-of-state job. Did the captain wish for Lennox to pick up the trail?

     Jeavons now remembered. "Okay, Jim, stay on the Chalmers case, but I understand Sheriff Webster wants your assistance on something else. Have I got that right?"

     "You have it exactly right, Captain."

     "Fine, carry on. But don't forget to come back for your discharge."

     "I'll be back, Captain, just make sure all my papers are ready."

     Jeavons hung up and said aloud, "Okay, Lennox, trust you to keep me here when I'm working late but don't worry, your papers will be ready - all tied with fancy blue ribbons."



Sheriff Webster put Raynes back on patrol, and sent Joe Gabriel home. After fixing Lennox coffee, Webster closed his office door, briefed Lennox about a long-standing problem, and made Lennox a proposition.

     Lennox considered it, then nodded. "If I do this for you, you do something for me, right?"

     "Depends what it is you want."

     "There are two photos in my auto - I need you to see them."

     "Okay, go ahead and get them -  but don't forget to come back."

     Lennox was back two minutes later and laid the photos in front of Webster, away from the fan. "I'm looking for these two youngsters, although the photos were taken in '59, so now they would be in their thirties."

     Webster looked doubtful. "I don't remember seeing them. But what does Allenby have to do with it?"

     Lennox admitted he had only a hunch to go on. Other than 1959 and a faint stamp mark beginning 'Al' on the back of each photo, Lennox had no lead. He gave Webster a short account of his search and asked if any of Webster's men would remember Amy or Johnny.

     Webster called in Vic Brody and Beau Simms. Brody, short, squat, with twenty-three years service studied the photos. He tapped Amy's picture. "I don't recall either of them, but see this curtain behind the girl's head? It's a green background with daffodils at the front. That curtain used to hang in Mallory's Photo Studio on High Street. I'm sure of that because my family had group photos taken there in '59 and '62."

     Beau Simms nodded to Amy's photo. "I remember that curtain, and also, this girl was on an advertisement board in Mallory's shop window."

     Where could Lennox find Mallory?

     The last Brody heard Mallory was living in Clinton, a small town sixty miles north. However, that was some years back and Mallory was old, even then; could have passed away by now. Webster said if Lennox could trace Mallory's number, he could use Webster's phone. Lennox thanked Brody and Simms and tried for ten minutes to reach Mallory. After hitting wrong numbers, he finally connected.

     Was that Vincent Mallory who once owned a photo studio in Allenby?

     Yes, who wanted to know?

     Jim Lennox - a New York cop. Maybe Mr Mallory could help trace two missing persons?

     Mallory did not think so, and hung up.

     Lennox had a different opinion. He placed the phone on its cradle.

     "Any luck?" asked Webster.

     Lennox said no, but he had Mallory's home address and he would visit Mallory tomorrow. Webster suggested Lennox talk first to old-timer Clem Lee. He could save Lennox an unnecessary trip to Clinton.

     Where might Lennox find Clem?

     Right now, he would be in Morgan's Beer Parlor playing cards with friends. However, Lennox should wait, for Simms was checking the Allenby records for news of either Amy or Johnny. The waiting proved fruitless. After booking a room for an overnight stay at the Denby Hotel, Lennox headed for the Beer Parlor and found it loaded with customers. He peered through thick cigarette smoke and glimpsed several old-timers sitting at a long oak table, playing poker. Music sounded from a jukebox.

     Lennox asked for Clem Lee.

     A grizzled oldster raised his hand. "That's me, boy."

     Lennox put two photos in front of him. Did Clem recognise them? Clem squinted, rubbed his eyes, and moved the photos to different angles. She sure was a pretty girl, but he did not remember her - or the boy. Lennox said her photograph had once hung in Mallory's Photo Shop on High Street.

     An old man, with watery eyes, and a crooked spine, took the picture from Clem, glared at it, and shook his head. "I don't recognise her." His pale blue eyes stared up at Lennox. "Why the interest?"

     Lennox explained briefly.

     "Those kids probably took off to fend for themselves," one oldster said. "Kids have been doing that since day one. My folks gave not a damn about me. Went to New York when I was twelve; worked shoeshine a couple of years; made a few bucks here and there. So what's the difference between me and those two kids?"

     There was plenty, Lennox said. The girl's mother was still searching. She cared about Amy - that was the difference.

     A toothless old-timer croaked they could have called just out of town at Hayden's Kingdom. You travel the High Cut Pass, and if you know where to look, you will see the site to your right as you head north, he told Lennox. There are over a dozen caravans painted all the colours of God's Earth; home to a backwoods group of hardened men and women, tough as hell, hides of leather, more stubborn than a pack of mules. The Law had tried moving them over the years but the Hayden bunch stuck like glue to what they had - whether it was legal or not.

     Clem Lee grinned, finished his whiskey and held it up for a refill. If Lennox was really searching for these two folk then he could do worse than call in at the Kingdom.

     Lennox said why should the Hayden group know of Amy or Johnny?

     Those backwoodsmen never miss movement on the Pass, Clem said. If Amy and Johnny went by, then the Kingdom would know of it.

     More empty glasses rose.

     Lennox took the hint and ordered at the bar, leaving behind twenty dollars to pay the bill.

     Clem Lee shuffled the cards and watched Lennox leave. He glanced at his friends. "You know something, you guys? I'm sure I've seen that feller before. It was a long way back, mind, but well - I reckon..."

     "Aw, shut up and deal," said Toothless.



                                                 CLINTON
                                                  IDAHO
                                                  
Refreshed by a good night's sleep and a healthy breakfast at the Denby Hotel, Lennox drove north toward Clinton, along the High Cut Pass, past Pine Cove, through the Carlton Mountains and drove steadily in the morning sun. Dust blurred the windscreen. He used the wipers, and saw the sprawl of the multi-colored caravans in a forest clearing near the Pass. He figured on calling there on the way back if he had no luck with Mallory.

     On the main street into Clinton, he began questioning his journey. Why should Mallory admit remembering Amy? He had denied that on the telephone. Lennox shrugged, turned east on Dougan Avenue and saw a sign indicating the street he was looking for. The street was stifling hot in the sun. An earlier sharp rain shower had given the air humidity. Lennox licked parched lips. He needed a beer - an ice-cold beer, but business came first.

     Mallory's house number was thirty-four. A small property, squeezed between others, painted white, small windows open, a faint breeze rustling chintz curtains.

     Questions Lennox would ask jumbled in his head. Why would Amy and Johnny leave the highway and travel forty miles south to Allenby when Seattle was their target? Maybe somebody had it wrong. It was not Amy, but a look-alike. But then, that would refute Beau Simms belief that he saw Amy's photo hanging in Mallory's window. In addition, Vic Brody had identified a curtain behind Amy's head in the Photo shop.
     Lennox nodded to himself. There was a connection between Mallory, Allenby, and Amy - and he had to discover what that link was.