Actually, it happened very seldom, but Eulalie knew better than to contradict her. This was the information gathering stage and getting to know the client’s expectations was an important part of that.
“You mentioned earlier something about Jessica having ‘had help’ to disappear. What did you have in mind – an abduction?”
“Yes, something like that. I saw a thing on the Crime Network about how pretty young girls get kidnapped and sold into slavery. That would explain why no body was ever found.”
The Crime Network had a lot to answer for.
“So, you weren’t thinking in terms of her having had an accomplice to helped her disappear?”
Nancy nodded again. “That’s also possible.”
“You want me to investigate the disappearance of Jessica Manilow? Whatever the outcome of that investigation may be, you want me to pursue it?”
“Yes, I do.” Nancy looked Eulalie in the eye. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“Then my secretary, Mrs. Belfast, will give you a contract. You can take it home and think about it, or you can sign on the spot.”
Nancy rose to her feet and shook Eulalie’s hand again.
“I’ll sign it on the spot and leave it here.”
“Then Mrs. Belfast will give you a copy for your records. May I ask you one last thing, Nancy? What would you do if you found Jessica alive somewhere?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’d pay her the twenty-five dollars I owe her.”
“Twenty-five dollars?”
“She paid me in advance for the accommodation. She still had a day-and-a-half left to go. At the rates I was charging five years ago, that’s twenty-five dollars I owe her.”
Eulalie stayed at her desk while Nancy went to get a contract from Mrs. Belfast. Eulalie wasn’t going to hover over her while she read it. She would either sign it immediately, as promised, or take it away with her, in which case Eulalie might never hear from her again. Either way, she needed to be left alone to make that decision.
Only when the client was gone did Eulalie go through to speak to her secretary.
“Did she sign?”
“On the dotted line.”
“Good. Another paying client. How well do you remember the disappearance of that girl on Monk’s Cay five years ago, Mrs. B.?”
“Pretty well, actually. It was while I was still working at the police station.”
“Do you think the police did a good job of looking for her?”
Mrs. Belfast didn’t hesitate. “Not that good. This was before Chief Macgregor’s time. Even the governor’s office would admit that the police station was in a mess before he took over. The Jessica Manilow investigation was not handled as well as it could have been.”
Eulalie nodded. That was all she needed to know.
Chapter 2
As a computer science major, Eulalie’s first port of call had always been the internet.
The internet didn’t get offended when you asked it the same question over and over. The internet didn’t mind when you told it to back up its assertions with facts. The internet didn’t need constant reassurance or thanks or an explanation for why you were wearing a skeptical look on your face.
Eulalie sat at her laptop and dived into contemporary accounts of the Jessica Manilow disappearance.
The local media had covered it extensively, but it made international headlines too. A pretty young girl from small-town Ohio had disappeared on a haunted island. It was no wonder the media loved it. The fact that the mystery remained unsolved added to the appeal. Every year on the anniversary of her disappearance, there was a flurry of renewed interest in the newspapers and on television. The would rerun the facts of the story, along with photos of Jessica looking young and carefree.
The story was on its way to becoming one of the iconic disappearances of the twenty-first century.
Eulalie went through the stories systematically, looking for anything that diverged from the basic story as Nancy Shrike had told it to her. She kept a notepad next to her and made a note of anything that counted as new information.
One outlet reported that the boys were covered in bruises and scratches when they got back to Prince William Island. Several reported that the speedboat they had stolen was damaged when they returned it. Most were short on detail about what exactly had frightened or attacked them on Monk’s Cay. Only the National Enquirer carried a story about what one of the boys had supposedly told a friend. This involved an army of ghostly monks with the heads of eagles and the claws of tigers ambushing the boys and sending them running back to the boat.
Eulalie remembered her own school trip to Monk’s Cay. She remembered the loose boulder standing on the edge of the cliff and a pair of hands pushing it over. She remembered herself shoving Zeenat and Amelie out of the way just in time.
The only part she wasn’t sure of was her memory that the rockfall had been caused by a figure wearing a monk’s cowl. Was that real, or had it been planted by the ghost stories the kids had told each other on the ferry on the way over? She had been twelve at the time – young and impressionable, with a mind filled with the legends of wraiths and spirits that were woven into the fabric of her village home.
Just thinking about a figure in monk’s robes gave her the creeps. She had never been back to Monk’s Cay and had hoped to keep it that way. Now fate had dropped this case into her lap and a trip to that dark island seemed inevitable. Eulalie reminded herself that she was a strong, independent woman who didn’t believe in ghosts.
She wrote out a timeline of events on her notepad.
The fifteenth of April had been a Friday. Spring break was always a continuous party for the college kids who flocked to Prince William Island, but Friday and Saturday nights were when the party reached its peak.
The four students had been drinking on and off for most of the day. The owners of several bars along the beachfront reported seeing the four of them drinking heavily. Everyone said they were in excellent spirits.
In the mid-afternoon, they had apparently fallen asleep on the beach for a few hours. It was a power nap to set them up for the night ahead.
At ten that night, one of the security guards at the yacht club reported hearing a motorboat start up. He had run down to the marina but had been too late. The boat was already heading out to the open sea with the excited teenagers on board. They had been sailing without lights, which meant they couldn’t be easily followed. The guard reported the incident to the harbormaster’s office.
Two of the three boys had been local. They had known their way well enough to get to Monk’s Cay eventually but went wrong several times and only reached it close to midnight. Once there, they had apparently lit a fire on the beach using dry brush from the nearby wooded area.
All three of the boys agreed that an argument had broken out some time after midnight. One of them had tried to make a move on Jessica after they made a pact that none of them would. The fact that Jessica had seemed inclined to accept the move only made the situation more volatile.
A fistfight broke out between two of the boys, and the third managed to break it up. Jessica lost her temper and stormed off along the beach. By the time everyone had calmed down, they noticed that Jessica had not returned.
At that point, their fire was almost out, and the sliver of moon went behind a cloud. It was suddenly very dark. The boys walked up and down the beach, calling Jessica’s name.
The boys disagreed about what had happened next. The only consensus was that something attacked them violently in the dark. Whatever it was had been murderous and very strong. They fled for their lives. They hopped into the motorboat and yelled for Jessica to join them, but there was no sign of her. They panicked and started up the motor.
They told each other that they would go for help and return to get Jessica later. After stalling several times, the motor finally caught, and they left the island.
It was about three in the morning when the harbormaster’s boat, which had a
lready been out looking for them, encountered them sailing erratically towards the marina.
They were brought on board, stinking of beer and sugarcane brandy, and complaining tearfully of things that went bump in the night. It was an hour before they managed to convey to their rescuers the fact that one of their number was missing. The search for Jessica Manilow began just before dawn.
As far as Eulalie could see, the search for the missing girl, alive or dead, had been thorough and well conducted. The harbormaster’s office had an excellent reputation when it came to search and rescue. It was the police investigation into the circumstances of her disappearance that had been poorly conducted.
She needed to get her hands on the case file. It was presumably still regarded as open and unsolved.
Fortunately, she knew exactly who to ask.
Eulalie walked past Mrs. Belfast’s desk on her way out. Something red and plastic caught her eye.
“Is that … a bowl?”
Mrs Belfast’s foot flashed out and kicked the thing under her desk.
“It’s an ant trap.”
“Oh, right, good. I noticed little piles of sand in my office the other day.”
“I thought it was time I did something about it.”
“Thanks, Mrs. B. I’m off to the police station now. I’ll probably see you later.”
Mrs. Belfast smiled and kept typing. “Have a good afternoon, dear.”
“I hope there’s something in there for me.”
The desk sergeant eyed the brown bags Eulalie was carrying.
“Would I forget about you, Manny?” She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a smaller bag. “I picked up a couple of donuts for you from the cart outside.”
“Jeez, I was kidding, but thank you. Boston cream and jelly. My favorites.”
“I have to keep you sweet considering how often I come in here wanting something, don’t I?”
“What can I help you with today?”
“You can tell me if the Chief’s in. I’ve brought him some lunch.”
“You’d better hurry. It’s nearly twelve-thirty. In about forty seconds, he is going to head out to that lunch place he likes – Roots & Shoots, or whatever it’s called. I don’t know how that man can call himself a police officer? He doesn’t even like donuts.”
“Well, he trained at Scotland Yard, so maybe that’s where he picked up his bad habits. He is definitely unsound on the subject of donuts. He probably regards them as empty calories.”
A door swung open and the Chief of Police Donal Macgregor walked out, moving fast. He stopped when he saw Eulalie. His face didn’t exactly break into a smile, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that Eulalie could have interpreted as a smile if she wished.
She held up the bag she was carrying and tipped it from side to side.
“It’s not Roots & Shoots, but it’s not junk food either.”
He appeared to consider her offer. Then he stepped back to his office and held the door open for her.
“Please come in, Miss Park.”
“Thank you, Chief Macgregor.”
Eulalie unpacked the lunch she had brought for him.
“One pressed green juice. One ham and salad sandwich on multigrain bread. And some freshly shaved coconut for dessert. Healthy, right?”
“Well… Roots & Shoots put living sprouts in their green juices.” He held up the juice and peered into its pond-like interior. “But this is most acceptable. Most acceptable, indeed. Thank you for bringing me lunch.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eulalie unbagged her own less virtuous meal. It was a pulled-chicken pita with a strawberry smoothie.
They ate in silence. One of the things she liked about Chief Macgregor was the fact that they could be quiet in each other’s company. Then she noticed that he was scrutinizing her face. His expression was that of a man struggling to read a foreign language. She knew he found it difficult to read facial expressions, social cues, and many of the subtle subtexts of human interaction.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Perhaps you can help me,” he said. “This isn’t a date, right? Because we didn’t organize it in advance.”
“Correct.”
“But you don’t normally come in here with food unless you want to talk about a case. So far you haven’t talked about a case. I’m wondering if this is a new kind of date where you don’t warn me in advance.”
The worried look on his face made Eulalie feel guilty. She had forgotten – or had not taken into account – his dislike of spontaneity. He didn’t like surprises. It made him uneasy to have his schedule disrupted. She had done that by arriving with lunch without a word of explanation.
The only time unexpected things were acceptable to him was in the course of his job. It was in the nature of police work to be unpredictable and spontaneous. He liked having a stable structure in his life to encompass that unpredictability.
“I’m sorry,” Eulalie said. “I should have made myself clear from the beginning. This is a meeting about work. I wanted us to enjoy a meal together first, and I know you like to eat in silence. But I was just taking my own needs into consideration, not yours. I should have sent you a text in telling you why I was coming and when.”
He reached across the table and captured her hand. His clasp was warm and comforting.
“Don’t worry. We both struggle with things. I struggle with spontaneity, and you struggle to predict how I will react to things. We are both trying to do better. It is all good practice for when we get married.”
Eulalie jerked as though he had shot her.
“Will you stop that? We are not getting married. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Chief Macgregor smiled. “I don’t mean next week, or even next year. But we’ll get there in the end.”
Eulalie sighed. He could be incredibly pig-headed on this subject. But she needed his co-operation on the Manilow case, so she wasn’t about to start an argument.
“Moving along to the business part of this meeting – I got a new client today. A walk-in by the name of Nancy Shrike. She runs the Hitch-a-Ride youth hostel down on the beach.”
“I know it. Sometimes, we have to send an officer down there to deal with a drunk and disorderly or a bar fight. She seems like a competent woman.”
“That’s how she strikes me too. Five years ago, she had a young girl staying with her from Ohio. One night, this girl and three boys took a motorboat out to Monk’s Cay. The boys came back but the girl never did. She’s been missing ever since. It was a few years before your time, but…”
“I know it,” said Chief Macgregor. “That’s one of our open-unsolveds. I gave the file to Detective Wright to work on in his free time.”
Eulalie groaned. “Detective Wright? Wesley Wright? Why did you give it to him? I can’t stand that guy.”
“He’s the Missing Persons detective. This is his area of expertise. I know you don’t think much of him, but he was the obvious person.”
Eulalie tried to put her personal feelings aside.
“Okay, fine. He’s working the case. I need to see the file. Please can you get it for me?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m trying to give my detectives more autonomy. I want them to feel trusted, so they will take pride in their work. If you want something from Detective Wright, you must approach him yourself.”
Eulalie dropped her head forward until her forehead bounced off the desk.
“Why?” Her voice was muffled. “Autonomy is overrated. Prince William Island managed just fine with a second-rate police department until you showed up.”
She looked up to find him regarding her with a look of incomprehension.
“You’re joking,” he said eventually.
“I am. But with an underlying core of truth, because I really don’t feel like dealing with Detective Wright again.”
“But you were right about the child Bibi be
ing kept in an underground storage unit near the docks. You were right, and he was wrong. Surely that means that he will respect you from now on?”
Eulalie laughed hollowly. “With a man like Detective Wright, being proved wrong brings out the worst in him. He’ll hate me much more for being right than he would have for being wrong.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“Maybe not, but that’s the way it is. Is he in this afternoon?”
“You’ll have to ask Manny.”
Eulalie stood up and crumpled the packaging into her hands. She used a paper napkin to wipe down the Chief’s desk. She would dump everything into a recycling bin on her way out.
She was about to leave when he called her back.
“Wait! I haven’t kissed you yet.”
She turned and smiled. “It’s not that long ago that you would jump a mile when I wanted to kiss you.”
“It is a constant revelation to me that I can enjoy intimate contact with you.”
Eulalie was very willing to oblige.
She reached for him gently, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood for gentleness. His mouth came down on hers in a way that made her wish she could lock his office door and forget about work obligations for the next hour or two.
When they broke apart, she was breathless, and her knees had turned to jelly.
“Not very professional behavior, Chief,” she said when she was capable of speech.
“I suppose not. But no one knows about it except us.”
Eulalie was fairly sure that Manny had a very good idea about what was going on behind closed doors. She decided not to tell Chief Macgregor as it would only worry him.
“I’d better be going. Can I at least tell Detective Wright that you want him to give me the file?”
“Yes, that’s fine. As long as you don’t hang him out of a fifth-story window until he agrees.”
“What an imagination you have, Chief. Why would I do such a thing?”
“Because you’ve done it before.”
Eulalie threw him a smile as she walked out of his office.
The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries Page 46