They rolled into the car park and drank in the sight. What it lacked in subtlety it made up for in joyful tackiness, resplendent in candy pinks, blues and greens, its entrance fashioned like a giant 1950s Wurlitzer.
‘I like it,’ Salgado announced. O’Neill just blew out air and said nothing.
Inside, they were greeted by a massive ice cream sundae, a life-size statue of a dinner-suited butler and a fortune teller machine containing Elvis Presley in his late Vegas period. Salgado grinned and O’Neill raised her eyebrows. They followed the highly polished black and white check-board floor and took a seat in a booth as far from the maddening crowd as they could.
Their waitress was Patty. With her retro uniform and thick layer of ghostly make-up, she might have worked in the joint since Buddy Holly was in the charts.
‘Hey, folks. Welcome to Peggy Sue’s. What can I get you?’
‘Just coffee, thanks.’
‘No breakfast?’ Patty looked slightly disappointed under the cake.
‘Yeah, maybe we should,’ O’Neillrelented.‘What’s good?’
Patty brightened. ‘I like the Rita Hayworth Cheese Omelette. It’s got cheddar and American. Or if you’re ready for lunch then the Buddy Holly Bacon Cheeseburger is always good.’
‘I’ll have the Rita Hayworth.’
‘You got it. Curly fries with that?’
‘No, just the omelette and coffee.’
‘You got it. What about you, cutie?’
Salgado looked up from the menu and smiled. ‘I’ll take a bowl of the Jailhouse Rock then a King Kong Monster Burger.’
‘Curly fries?’
‘They’re famous, right?’
Patty smiled right back at him. ‘Says so right there, honey. And I’d never lie to you.’
‘I’m counting on it.’
The waitress lost ten years on the spot and whirled away in a swish of uniform to fetch their coffees.
‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’
‘I just like making people happy. Do you know this place was built in 1954 from railroad ties and mortar from the nearby Union Pacific Railyard? The owners took it over in 1987 and worked to restore it to its original state, filling it with their extensive collection of TV and movie memorabilia. Says so right here, just like Patty said.’
‘Great.’
*
The coffee arrived steaming hot, placed carefully between them by a contented waitress.
‘Breakfast will be coming right up. Can I get you guys anything else right now?’
‘Patty, we were wondering if you could help us.’ O’Neill showed her badge. ‘We’re passing through from LA and we’re trying to find someone who’s missing. Would you mind taking a look at this photograph?’
Patty’s contentment faded visibly.
‘Do you know how many folks we get in here of a day? Darling, I’m not sure I’d remember Buddy Holly himself if he’d sat where you’re sitting and ordered a Rock Around the Clock with curly fries. Although,’ she smiled sweetly at Salgado, ‘him I’d remember. He’s cute.’
‘It’s important. Could you at least look?’
Patty took the edge of the photograph as if it were contaminated but deigned to study it. They saw a wrinkle of surprise crease her face. She let the thought simmer.
‘You know . . . actually maybe. Yeah, this guy. If it’s the one I’m thinking of, he was real mean to Elly. He cussed at her, said there’d be no tip, just cos his breakfast took two minutes longer than he’d thought it should. Let me get her.’
Elly was of a similar vintage to Patty, another ghost of diners past. She picked up the photograph of Garland and jabbed a finger at it accusingly.
‘Yeah. Yeah. This guy. I remember him.’ She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered. ‘A real son of a bitch. Pardon my French.’
‘What do you remember about him, Elly?’
‘Well, we open at six and this guy barged in right on the dot as if he’d been waiting all night for us to open the doors.’
‘He was definitely alone?’
‘Yes. Made out as if he’d never want to be around people. I remember thinking he looked like he hadn’t slept. Five o’clock shadow and kinda grimy. Not like a hobo or nothing, just like he’d been working.’
‘Did he say anything? Maybe about where he’d been?’ Salgado asked.
‘Nothing like that,’ Elly shook her head. ‘He wasn’t one for small talk. I wouldn’t have remembered him at all except he cussed me out when his food wasn’t on the table as quick as he’d have liked. He shouted at me. In front of other customers too.’
‘You say you thought he’d been working. Did he maybe have dirt under his fingernails? Dirt on his face, anything like that?’
Elly shrugged. ‘Sorry. I don’t remember. He was just . . . a bit grubby. Kinda sweaty.’
*
Marianne Ziegler, formerly Garland, answered the phone breezily, but the wind dropped as soon as Salgado introduced himself. ‘Oh. Hi. Is there more news, Detective?’
‘Nothing yet, Marianne. I had just a couple of questions and hoped you could help us out.’
‘Okay. Sure.’ The tone was much more reluctant than the words.
‘My partner and I are over in the Mojave Desert. A bit north of Barstow. We wondered if maybe Ethan had ever talked about anything up this way. Maybe some place in the desert, maybe a town nearby he used to visit.’
‘Barstow? I don’t remember him ever talking much about Barstow. Although he did used to drive the old Route 66 with his dad when he was a kid.’
‘Can you think of anywhere else around this area that he might have known? We’re trying to trace his movements and need a place to start. What about Peggy Sue’s Diner, that mean anything to you?’
There was silence on the other end of the line, Marianne thinking.
‘Yes. That name is familiar. An old-school diner, right? He used to stop there with his dad when they went on trips. He went there and a waterpark. Talked about the park a lot. Happiest days of his life and all that.’
‘Do you remember what the waterpark was called?’
‘Oh, it was a long time ago. It was like a woman’s name. Uh . . . no, sorry. It’ll come to me. Can I call you back?’
‘Sure, Marianne, thank you.’
Patty arrived with the cheque and Salgado shoved six ten-dollar bills across the table. ‘Keep the change, Patty.’
‘Why thank you, honey. Y’all have a good day now.’
When Salgado didn’t reciprocate, she hesitated. ‘You got some more questions, cutie? You don’t need to tip that much to ask me anything.’
He grinned. ‘Just the one. Do you know of a waterpark anywhere between here and Vegas, or maybe between here and Baker? I don’t know what it’s called but it might have a woman’s name.’
Patty made a face. ‘A woman’s name? Can’t rightly say I know where that might be.’
‘Lake Dolores.’ Elly had been serving at a nearby table and obviously listening in. ‘It’s Lake Dolores. Rock-A-Hoola Waterpark was originally called Lake Dolores, after the wife of the man who built it.’