Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

it.”
    “Want some coffee?”
    “I think I’ll wait,” said Mary Ann. “I’m wired enough as it is.”
    DeDe looked down at the map again. “We’re having breakfast with Prue, if that’s O.K. with you. I want her to take us to the man with the rabbits. Later, I thought we could check the car rental agencies and airplane people.”
    A long silence followed while Mary Ann wrestled with the monstrous futility of their search. Then she said: “DeDe … don’t you think …?” She cut herself off, suddenly wary of seeming disloyal to the undertaking.
    “What?” said DeDe. “Say it.”
    “Well … it just seems to me that we’re losing time by doing this ourselves. If we told the police, they could be issuing all-points bulletins, or whatever it is that they do.”
    “Issuing press releases is more like it.”
    “But we don’t have to tell them who we think he is … just that he took the children.” From Mary Ann’s standpoint, that was all that mattered, anyway: someone had kidnapped the twins.
    DeDe poured herself more coffee. “The point is not what the police know, but what he knows.”
    “But surely he can’t expect us to …?”
    “I know this man, Mary Ann. You keep forgetting that.”
    “But how can you be so sure he won’t … Surely, those rabbits were proof enough of his …”
    “Those rabbits were a little bit of bad symbolism and nothing more. He has a weakness for grand gestures. That was just his way of … being Daddy.”
    “But what makes you think he won’t harm the children?”
    DeDe shrugged. “Because he loves them.”
    “You can’t be serious!”
    “Well, that’s the way he sees it. What happened in Jonestown, anyway? When did the killing start? When the outside world invaded his private fantasy of peace and love. I missed the massacre, Mary Ann, and I’m not going to let it happen again. If I want my children back alive, I’ve got to find them before the media find out about Jones. It’s as simple as that.”
Breakfast was a harrowing affair. Prue was a wreck, and Mrs. Halcyon was a worse wreck. DeDe, to her credit, stayed calm throughout, absolving her mother and the columnist of all guilt in exchange for their absolute silence on the subject. Prue had no trouble consenting to this condition; Mrs. Halcyon did so with great reluctance.
    DeDe, of course, gave no indication that she knew who the kidnapper was.
    On the way to the airport, Prue pointed out the house of the man with the rabbits. Mary Ann made a quick note of the address, feeling weirder by the minute. Half-an-hour later, Prue and Mrs. Halcyon were airborne, bound for San Francisco, while Mary Ann and DeDe conferred with the last known witness of the abduction.
    “I was in the kitchen when it happened,” said the rabbit fancier. “He was out here with the kids at the hutches. I couldn’t tell what was happening until I got out here, and then it was too late.”
    Mary Ann looked contrite. “We’re awfully sorry about the …”
    “He didn’t say anything?” interrupted DeDe. “Nothing at all?”
    “Hell, no. He hightailed it. I found a book of matches out here later in the day. He must’ve dropped it, I guess. They were from the Red Dog Saloon in Juneau. That help you any?”
    “Do you still have them?” asked DeDe.
    “Hang on,” said the man. He went into the house, returning seconds later with the matchbook. DeDe turned it over in her hand, then opened it. Written in felt-tip pen on the inside was this word: DIOMEDES.
    “‘Diomedes,’ ” said DeDe, turning to the man. “Do you know what that means?”
    The man shook his head. “Sorry.”
    DeDe frowned, discarding the matchbook. “It probably doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
    “Wait,” blurted Mary Ann.
    “Yeah?”
    “Diomedes. That’s what Prue heard. Not dire needs—Diomedes!”

Definitions
    D IOMEDES.
    It had a vaguely scientific sound to it, chemical perhaps. It also suggested a classical figure, like Diogenes and Archimedes. Mary Ann, however, deduced that its roots were geographical, since Mr. Starr had been heard using the word in conversation with a pilot.
    “You’re probably right,” said DeDe, pocketing the matchbook. “It’s not like him, though, to be so careless about leaving a clue behind. I think it’s best to check our logical sources first.”
    Their first stop, via cab, was a car rental agency near the waterfront. There, sounding remarkably nonchalant, DeDe confronted a fastidiously groomed young