Dead Giveaway

by Chloe Kendrick

  I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I couldn’t see a police detective worried about someone’s consumer rights regarding an apartment. It seemed like overkill. “Nothing too much. The last person left about six months ago. The apartment has been empty since. The usual. Why? What’s up with this place that I should know about?” I was more suspicious of Danvers now, knowing that he knew something about this place. I wasn’t sure if he would share the information with me or not.

  “About six months ago, the guy who lived here disappeared without a trace. Murray Longhill. I’m sure a crime lady like you would have read about the case.”

  I nodded, remembering the case only too well. It wasn’t hard to do since it had only taken place about six months ago. Longhill had been an upstanding citizen who lived alone. One night there were noises from his apartment. The neighbors heard something like a door slam. When they went to check, the door to Longhill’s apartment was wide open, and he was nowhere to be seen – ever again. The police had run searches. They’d co-opted volunteers to scour wooded areas and dredged lakes looking for him.

  They suspected foul play, because there weren’t any hits on his bank accounts or credit cards after that night. He wasn’t working, because his social security number went dormant. Yet they never had any leads on the case. It was a rather notorious missing-person’s case in Capital City, and nearly every month a news item appeared, faulting the police for not solving this obvious crime.

  “I’m thinking that it’s a huge coincidence that a body is delivered to the same apartment that Longhill disappeared from.” Danvers ran a hand through his hair, but the movement didn’t seem to mess up his perfect coiffure.

  “Coincidences happen all the time. The other day I met a woman who —” I began.

  Danvers cut me off. “I don’t want to hear some story about the food truck or your mother or your aunt. In a criminal case, we assume that there are no coincidences. The chances of someone dropping off a dead body to an apartment where a guy went missing are slim and none.”

  “Okay, so what then? You have one body that you can’t identify and another body that you can’t find.” I was annoyed by this conversation. It was one of the most negative talks I’d ever had with Danvers, who usually saw himself as the person who could solve any crime and rarely needed help with it. In his worldview, that gave him the right to take most of the credit as well as to be in charge of any investigation. So for him to come to me and want to argue the probability of two events being coincidental told me that he had nothing.

  Usually I would have taken the bait and run with the meager evidence to attempt to solve both cases just to show him up, but I was in the middle of a big move. I had felt that I’d left a certain lifestyle behind in moving to a newer apartment complex. I was becoming an adult and starting what felt like an adult life. However, apparently my life thought differently.

  “What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked grudgingly. I guess I was back to being Nancy Drew. I decided to figure out if that made Danvers George or Ned, but that would be a mental discussion for later.

  “I can’t get in here at the apartment complex and do any questioning. I looked back over the Longhill records, and for every interview the police got from them, two more people either refused to answer or just never responded to the requests. We could bring them all in for questioning, but that’s some heavy duty bad PR.”

  “So you want me to ask Longhill questions around the complex?” I asked. That didn’t seem too involved or risky. I was going to be meeting with some of the other residents soon, so I could easily slip a mention regarding the former tenant into the conversation. If most of these people living here thought I didn’t know about the disappearance, I knew that there would be a line of willing storytellers waiting for me. People love to share bad news.

  “Yeah, nothing official. All I’m asking for is that you should go out, mingle, and keep your ears open for anything about Longhill. In a place this size, I’m sure it’s bound to come up from time to time.” Without saying anything else, he got up and left. I wondered if he’d been taking lessons from Land in how to leave abruptly. I closed up and went to bed, still wondering about the man who had lived here and vanished.

  *

  After the Sunday night visit from Detective Danvers, I had gone to bed early, so I was up and ready to go by 4 a.m. I texted both Land and Carter and told them that I’d be there at normal the time. Carter showed up a little after 5 at the truck. “I heard about your brush with the law,” he said with a grin. “I hope everything is okay.”

  When I’d first hired Carter Smith, I hadn’t shared with him the food truck’s rather checkered past with the law. I rationalized that no one could predict if there would be any other murders near the truck or associated with anyone in the truck. So there was no reason for me to share the crime stories with a new employee. It was a possibility that might never happen.

  However, after two additional dead bodies appeared in my life, I decided that I had indulged in wishful thinking. I told Carter enough about the past crimes associated with the food truck so that he could make an informed decision about his position at Dogs on the Roll.

  To my surprise, he was perfectly fine with the stories. He asked a few questions and had then gone back to work. So it was not surprising that Carter was unfazed by the news that I’d found a dead body in my new apartment. He took it in stride and kept making the condiments.

  I explained the situation ending with Detective Danvers’ visit yesterday evening to talk about the Longhill case. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the missing man after he’d left, and it felt good to be able to share this new information with someone. Now that Land was over at the other truck, I had to find a new sounding board for my ideas. If I wanted Land to know, I’d have to text him. He might or might not get back to me, depending on the level of business that day.

  Carter blushed a little. “I think I can help you a bit,” he said. “I went out with one of Longhill’s relatives, and I think that they might be willing to talk to you about the case.”

  I wasn’t sure why he’d blushed over that information, but I was happy to have any foothold to start with. I’d dreaded the idea of going from apartment to apartment, asking tenants for any information they could share on Longhill. It seemed invasive and not the type of persona I wished to project in the new complex.

  It surprised me somewhat to realize that I cared about what these strangers thought of me. I’d always been a fairly independent woman. Even in college, I made friends who liked me and didn’t care about the rest. Now, in my new career, I was surrounded mainly by employees and somewhat flirtatious policemen, and suddenly I was concerned with what the world thought of me.

  “That would be great,” I said, wondering what Carter had thought of my momentary silence. He seemed somewhat nervous, and I was too preoccupied with all of these crimes to follow up.

  He nodded, but didn’t speak again. In part that was because he was working on a new condiment for the truck. While Land liked his routine, Carter chose to innovate with the condiments, feeling that a staple like hot dogs should show variety in the condiments. Today he was preparing Sweet and Spicy Onion Relish. The recipe called for root beer, and the cans of the soda made me thirsty for a diet drink. Of course, we had plenty of diet syrup to be sampled in the food truck, and so I poured myself a drink. I took a long gulp and got back to preparing the coffee.

  The morning went smoothly. Carter and I had found a working arrangement, one that was similar to what Land and I had done prior to the new truck. Carter kept up with cooking the orders, and I took the money and poured the endless supply of coffee we provided to the people who worked around Government Square. Land drove the other truck, Basque in the Sun, to its location about 10:30 and I knew that he’d be busy preparing the dishes for today. I probably wouldn’t get to talk to him until after our truck closed for the day.

  The main difference with the two trucks was that Dogs on the Roll off
ered the same food on a regular basis. You can’t go too far wrong with hot dogs. People who were on the go and wanted a fairly portable meal, served and eaten quickly, came here. Basque in the Sun used dishes from Land’s homeland. He varied the dishes on a regular basis and included a number of fish dishes and stews. These foods demanded to be eaten carefully and were more for those who had time to actually enjoy their meal and felt confident they wouldn’t destroy their outfit downing a bowl of stew or a real entrée.

  Between the two trucks, I was making a good living now. I’d felt proud that I brought in enough profit that I was able to rent a real apartment and not the dump I’d lived in prior to that. However, thinking about my success only led me back to the notion that I’d found a dead body in the wayward freezer at my new apartment.

  The rest of the morning went quickly. I tried to focus my mind on the job and not on the mystery that was waiting for me back at my apartment. For a moment, I wondered if they’d rented my old apartment, and if there was any chance that I would be able to talk my old landlord into giving it back to me. I missed the hiding hole behind the loose tiles and the ease with which I could be assaulted in the parking lot. However, to date, no one had left dead bodies for me at the old apartment. Everything has its own benefits.

  I had just started counting the cash for the day, when a very attractive man who was about my age showed up at the window. He had light brown hair, a toothy smile and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were almost silver and looked like you could trust anything they had to say. I turned and asked for his order, but he shook his head. “Carter said that you’d be interested in talking to me.”

  It took me a minute, but I caught up finally. This was the Longhill relative that Carter had mentioned – the one he’d gone out with. I nodded my head. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just surprised that you got here so quickly. Carter only asked me about it a few hours ago. I was thinking it would be days before I heard anything.”

  “I was in the area for a project of my own and when he called, I agreed to see you. We’re going to get a bite to eat after this.” He flashed a quick smile to Carter, and I wondered why they had only gone out a few times. This guy seemed like he still liked Carter, if smiles and attitude were anything. Maybe the disappearance and freezer incident would help young love blossom. It didn’t seem like the plot line for a romance novel, but it could work.

  “I’m Maeve,” I said, sticking my hand out after moving all the cash to the other hand. “Go around to the side, and Carter will let you in.” While they might have thought I was being very sociable, in fact, I was nervous waving around a wad of bills in one hand. I couldn’t keep a good grasp on the money using only one of my hands. It would be easier to talk and count if he was inside.

  Carter opened the door and let the man in. He came to the front and stood against the counter. “I’m Aaron, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same. Now Carter told me that you’re relative to Murray Longhill somehow?”

  He nodded. “Murray was – I mean, is – my uncle. My mom’s brother. I’ve known him all my life.”

  I had to wonder how it would feel to have someone you loved go missing. I had lost people to death and murder, but I’d always had closure around the event – a funeral or a visitation. A missing person is a huge question mark that never goes away. That probably explains our fascination with Amelia Earhart, Judge Crater, and Jimmy Hoffa. The answers were still out there somewhere, and until we can put them in a grave, we can’t let them rest.

  “So you think he’s still alive?” I asked, noticing the change to present tense. I had assumed that someone who had not used any of his existing accounts in six months was likely unable to use them for the simple reason that they couldn’t.

  “Actually, no, I don’t, but every time I use past tense, my mother corrects me. She’s certain that he’s out there somewhere.” He looked a little sad as he spoke. I could understand the thought of seeing a parent pretend that everything is fine when in fact, the situation is anything but fine.

  “So what do you think happened to him?” Though Danvers seemed to think that I could learn more than the police in this affair, I wasn’t sure where to start. I had been reduced to asking the family what they thought.

  “Uncle Murray was a great guy, but he could be a bit unscrupulous at times. He got into on-line gambling once. There was an instance with a woman he met on Craigslist, things like that. He was always just this side of trouble, and someone had to help bail him out. My assumption has always been that he just got into too much trouble, and he disappeared before the family could bail him out. Or maybe he was too embarrassed to ask for help before it got too bad.” He shrugged, and I could see a deep emotion in his eyes. I suspected that I should have started asking questions from someone who wasn’t quite so closely related to the matter first. It was hard to find out the entire story from someone closely related to the person. There were boundaries that you didn’t want to cross – and families had narratives that they insisted on following, even when the truth struck them in the face. Strangers were more likely to give you the whole truth.

  “Could there be something more embarrassing than the woman from Craigslist story?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Carter jumped in and told a long-winded story about a friend who had gone to meet a young woman, only to find out that this date was a middle-aged guy. The point was made though. Anyone could be hiding behind that computer screen, and we didn’t know who they really were.

  Aaron looked more comfortable at this point. “If you could find out what happened to him, it would be wonderful for my family. My grandmother doesn’t go out much these days. She stays home in the hopes that someone is going to call and tell her what happened to her son. I guess I’d just like things back to normal.” I saw a hint of sadness in those silver-blue eyes.

  “The police said that the door was left open, and he was gone. So what happened to his possessions? If it truly looked like he disappeared, then it’s unlikely that he took everything with him.”

  Aaron looked thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know, but I’ll find out. I’m betting that it’s in a storage unit. My parents have two of those bad boys and my grandmother has another one. So I bet everything was put in there, in case he were to come home.”

  “That would be great if you could find out. It would be a starting point.” I looked down at the cash still in my hands. While I was appreciative that Carter had brought Aaron by, every moment was one more that I had to spend at work.

  “What do you think you would find there?” Aaron asked. He seemed like he was getting into this, and I was glad to see that. It would be easier if I didn’t have to feel like I was trampling too much on the family’s feelings to do this.

  Carter actually spoke up. “There would be two categories of things to look for. The first would be things that are there which shouldn’t be – lots of cash, drugs, dead women, etc. Those are the easy categories. The difficult ones are those that should be there but aren’t. Those are negative clues – like the dog who didn’t bark in the night. Something should happen or be in the storage unit, but isn’t. We’d have to be sharp enough to notice that something isn’t there.”

  Aaron laughed. “Carter told me that he’s been studying up on investigative techniques now that he’s working here. I guess from the sound of it that an education in detection could come in handy here.”

  Carter turned beet red. I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed that he’d been found out or if he’d blushed because he’d been talking about work and me to someone.

  Aaron nodded. “Carter, are you about done? I’m starving here.”

  Carter finished up the work quickly. I looked at him in a new light. I’d been hesitant to accept and trust him, mainly because I’m not a trusting person. Land had been on my case to give him more responsibility with the money and the food, but I’d resisted.

  Now that he’d actually opened up to me, and come out to me in t
his way, I decided that it was time to reciprocate that level of trust. I took a key off the ring and handed it to Carter as he was leaving. “It’s a key to the truck,” I said, stating the very obvious. “In case you need to lock up some day or I should ever get a day off.”

  He beamed at me. “Thank you! You won’t regret it.” He bounded out of the truck to eat a late lunch. I had to agree. I doubted that I would regret the trust. I watched them walk away, noticing that they were moving fairly close to each other – nothing like what a former couple should do.

  Chapter 3

  I’d no sooner gotten home than I heard a knock at the door. I was surprised because anyone at my place should have been waiting at the security door. I checked out of the peephole and saw the guy from last night, Mr. T-shirt and attitude. Today, at least, he was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Either he’d come from work or dressed appropriately for whatever occasion this unexpected visit was supposed to represent. There was no sign of cakes or baked goods, so I knew it wasn’t a welcoming committee.

  I’m sure he had been waiting for me until I barely got in the door to come down. He couldn’t even know my hours since I’d just moved in two days before.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “Hi,” I said, making it a question. I really just wanted to find something in my kitchen and rest. I wasn’t up to a full-blown investigation after the day I’d had.

  “Hey, I’m Wayne from across the hall. I’m supposed to say some bullshit to get in your place and find out what’s going on with the police, but I’m not good at that. So I’m just going to ask? What happened?” He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets as though he’d failed some test. Perhaps he had, if his wife learned that this was his way of being sneaky. However, I found the bluntness refreshing. I was the type who could overthink things, and while that helped me solve murders, it played hell with my social interactions.