A gum-chewing receptionist greeted her over the noise.
“Help you?”
“I’m looking for Sheena Macintyre.”
The receptionist jerked her chin in the direction of a woman who was wrapping shiny pieces of tin foil around a client’s hair.
Stepping over piles of unswept hair, Eulalie approached the woman.
“Are you Sheena?”
The woman spared her a glance. “Depends who’s asking.”
Eulalie held up her private investigator’s license and police liaison card.
“My name’s Eulalie Park. I’m a private investigator looking into the disappearance of Rochelle Chirac from Queen’s Town High School fifteen years ago. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“What makes you think I know anything about it?”
“Rosalind Grier mentioned that you were friendly with Rochelle.”
“Rosalind who?” She held up a finger before Eulalie could answer. “Wait, I know who you mean. Rosie Pike as she was before she got married and decided that Rosalind sounded cooler. Sure, I knew Rochelle. So what?”
“Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Betsy!” Sheena yelled across the salon. “Come and finish Mrs. Bhagowat’s foils for me. I’m going outside for a smoke.”
She scooped up her bag and marched out the salon, without waiting to see if Eulalie was following her.
When they got outside, Sheena sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her feet resting in the gutter. She pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Eulalie lowered her clean blue jeans onto the sidewalk.
“Fire away,” Sheena invited.
“You were at school with Rosie and Rochelle. Were you all good friends?”
Sheena laughed. “What is it the kids say these days? Frenemies? We were the original frenemies. I think most teenage girls are, aren’t they?”
Eulalie gave an encouraging nod, so Sheena went on.
“One day we were besties, and the next we weren’t speaking to each other. High school was the biggest rollercoaster of my life. I can’t even remember whether Rochelle and I were friends when she disappeared. She was the biggest rollercoaster of all. Sweet as pie one day and a stone-cold bitch the next.”
“Was there anyone in particular who didn’t like her?”
“Take your pick. We all had days when we hated her – me, Rosie, whoever. She stole Rosie’s boyfriend. Mine too, come to think of it. I thought I’d never get over that, but of course I did. Now I can hardly remember his name.”
Eulalie held up a picture of the girl Rochelle had been close to in her junior year. “What about her?”
Something in Sheena’s face closed down. “Where did you get that?”
“From an old school magazine. You obviously recognize her. Can you give me her name?”
Sheena laughed again, but bitterly. “I could if I knew what name she was using at the moment. It was Mikayla Sorenson when we knew her. It’s probably Mike now, or something butch like that.”
“She’s gay?”
“She’s a pervert, that’s what she is.”
Eulalie managed not to react. She needed to keep Sheena talking.
“Rochelle and Mikayla were friends in their junior year, weren’t they? And then by senior year they seemed to have grown apart. Do you know what happened?”
“Who knows?” Sheena kicked a stone. “Mikayla probably tried to do something disgusting to her.”
“Do you know that for a fact, or are you speculating?”
Sheena shrugged.
“Okay, can you remember what their relationship was like in senior year?” Did they actually hate each other, or had they just grown apart?”
Sheena rolled her eyes. “How do you expect me to remember that? And what difference does it make after all this time?”
“Rosalind said you probably wouldn’t remember.”
It was a shot in the dark, but it got an instant reaction.
“Rosie?” Sheena’s voice vibrated with scorn. “I bet I remember better than she does. She always acts like she’s better than me just because she’s married and I’m not. She thinks I should be jealous of that. Ha!” She snorted so loudly a pedestrian jumped as she walked by. “As if I’d be jealous of anyone being married to that dumb fish, Tony Grier. He’s only gone and sunk their life savings into that stupid wellness center. They don’t even do proper beauty treatments. There isn’t even a steam room. It’s all just aura-cleansing and garbage like that. As if anyone would pay good money to have Rosie wave her hands over her head and chant and tell you your aura is clean. Not even islanders are that dumb, and, let’s face it, we have a lot of tolerance for hocus pocus. If I were Rosie, I wouldn’t sleep a wink at night thinking about all the money I’d invested in that white elephant. And I’m supposed to be jealous of her?”
“But is she right that you don’t remember what happened between Rochelle and Mikayla?”
Sheena stubbed out her cigarette and threw it into the gutter. “No, she’s not. I never knew exactly what happened between them. I don’t think any of us did. They didn’t get in a fight or something like that. It was like one day they just stopped seeing each other. Like they had become invisible to each other. We tried to weasel the truth out of them, but they gave us nothing.”
“What about the morning you buried the time capsules? Rochelle had already been missing for a few days How well do you remember that?”
“Quite well, I suppose. Some of the kids were really excited, but we just thought it was lame. I mean, what was the point? So, you bury a bunch of old junk in a field and dig it up again fifteen years later. Big whoop. Like, literally, no one cares.”
“Someone buried an extra egg,” said Eulalie. “There were fifteen teams who buried eggs that day. Someone buried a sixteenth, and I don’t believe no one saw them do it.”
“They might have come back on a different day and buried the egg then. Or they might have done it at night.”
“They might,” said Eulalie, who had been thinking along similar lines. “But let’s assume they buried it along with everyone else on that day fifteen years ago. Did you notice anything? Did you see anyone behaving suspiciously or doing something odd?”
“I can’t say I did, but I wasn’t looking. I just wanted to get it over and done with. At that point, I wanted to get school over and done with, so I could start my real life.” She gestured ironically at the salon behind them. “I never dreamed how glamorous real life would turn out to be, did I?”
“Did anyone hate Rochelle enough to kill her, Sheena?”
There was a long pause. “To be honest, it could have been any of us. We were a gang of messed up kids - all hormones and anger and resentment. There was Rochelle with her daddy issues. There was me who wanted to grow up and stop being a kid because everything was perfect for adults. There was Mikayla who didn’t know what she was in those days. And there was Rosie who lurched from boyfriend to boyfriend looking for someone to make her feel complete. So, yeah, it could have been any of us. All I know is that it wasn’t me.”
“What about Mr. Richmond, the biology teacher?”
“Mr. Richmond? What does he have to do with anything?”
“I heard that Rochelle was one of his favorites. That she could get away with anything at school because he protected her.”
“I bet it was Rosie who told you that. She had the hugest crush on Mr. Richmond. She always imagined that he favored other girls over her. But that’s all it was – her imagination.”
The door to the salon slammed as a client walked out. Sheena stood up.
“I have to get back. Mrs. Bhagowat’s highlights will be ready for the basin. Good luck with your investigation. It’s weird. All these years I’ve pictured her Rochelle working at a diner in America or something. Like, the equivalent of my job, but somewhere else – somewhere far away. And all this time she’s been dead. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“We don’t know for sure that she’s dead. All we
have is a message in a fifteen-year-old time capsule. She might well be working at that diner in America.”
“Nah!” Sheena threw her a glance on her way back into the salon. “You and the cops wouldn’t be this riled up if you didn’t think she was dead.”
Eulalie swung a leg over her Vespa and pulled her helmet down.
Did she believe that Rochelle was dead? Was Sheena right? Were they all so focused on solving a homicide that they had stopped considering other options? She had to admit there was some truth to it. The possibility that Rochelle had run away was not one she took seriously. Why had she spent so little time entertaining it?
It probably had something to do with her client – Rochelle’s father. His certainty had rubbed off on Eulalie. He was sure that his daughter had not left of her own accord.
The truth was that people might go missing for a few years, but they usually didn’t stay missing. The people in their lives had some idea of where they were. Rochelle Chirac had vanished without a trace for fifteen years. Eulalie believed she was dead and was operating on that assumption. If it skewed her investigation, so be it.
She checked the address of her next appointment on her phone. Edward Heights. Roland Chirac had come up in the world.
Eulalie drove back down the Coast Road, heading south. The sea was on her left and the town on her right. The slope of the land gave her a view of the bay with its colorful sailboats bobbing about. She wished she had time to park her scooter and go for a swim, but the case felt urgent somehow, even though Rochelle had been missing for a long time.
The road began to climb as she headed away from the beach. It sloped dramatically upwards and the terrain became increasingly rocky. Soon, she was hundreds of feet above sea level and climbing all the time. The road was no longer straight but curled back on itself in a series of hairpin bends that forced her to stay alert.
Eulalie turned right into Cliff Road, which sloped even more steeply upwards. Then she turned left into Edward Drive and found herself on Prince William Island’s billionaire’s row. Not everyone who lived here was super rich, but they were certainly all comfortable. She drove past a combination of original French Colonial mansions and their modern Tuscan counterparts. Edward Heights was a world away from Sea View with its three-bedroom houses and small yards.
Eulalie wondered how Roland Chirac could afford to live here. Everything she had heard about Rochelle suggested that she had grown up in modest circumstances. Had her father’s fortunes changed since her disappearance?
His house was situated on one of the cul-de-sacs off Edward Drive. It wasn’t the most exclusive enclave in Edward Heights, but the houses looked snug and prosperous.
She rang the bell of the third house on the left and waited for a response. He wasn’t expecting her. Eulalie wanted to catch him by surprise. He should have no chance to get his story straight.
She noticed a small van parked in the driveway. It belonged to a housekeeping service that cleaned houses and office buildings all over the island. They called themselves Millie’s Maids and their vans were a common sight in Queen’s Town.
A young man in a Millie’s Maids uniform came to the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Chirac.”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
Eulalie handed over one of her cards for him to take to his client. He came back a moment later to invite her in.
The first thing Eulalie noticed as she walked through the house and onto the deck was how every trace of family life had been removed from it. Roland Chirac might have been a lifelong bachelor for all the signs there were that he had ever had a family. There were no photographs, no framed certificates, nothing to suggest that he had two daughters and an ex-wife.
He was sitting out on the deck, having tea while the cleaning service worked around him. He stood up to greet Eulalie.
“Ms. Park! Welcome. Your friends in the police department were here all morning. I don’t suppose you could just share notes with them? Coffee?”
She accepted, and he poured a cup for her.
“Sorry to trouble you so soon after the police,” she said. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to share notes. Their focus will have been on you, while mine is on Rochelle.”
He pushed a bowl of nougat towards her. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to know what Rochelle’s life was like before you and your wife split up. Can you tell me about that?”
“I suppose there was a time when we were happy. It’s so long ago now that I can barely remember it. Genevieve and I got married quite young. We were twenty-six at the time. The babies came quickly, one after another until suddenly we were a family of four. I went to work every day to provide for us, and Genevieve stayed home to look after the girls. We were living the dream, as long as you didn’t look too closely.”
“What were your daughters like as small children?”
“Much like any others, I suppose. Parents like to think their children are special, don’t they? But they hardly ever are. Rochelle and Michelle certainly weren’t.”
He squared his shoulders as though he had admitted something brave. But to Eulalie there was nothing heroic about a man who couldn’t see the specialness in his own children.
Chapter 9
Roland sipped his coffee and sighed.
“There must have been some good years. We were watching our children grow up, and that was nice. Genevieve and I got on reasonably well. I think she thought we were getting on better than I did. I couldn’t help thinking, ‘Is this it?’ Do you know what I mean?”
Eulalie nodded.
“Like, was this it for me until I died? There had to be more to life. It wasn’t as though I didn’t like the kids, especially the older one. Rochelle. She was so eager to please. I could get her to do anything just by giving her a little affection.” He gave a reminiscent smile. “Or by holding back my affection. That was even more effective. She would tie herself into knots trying to win me back. It was amusing because she was so cute. She would have done anything for me. Anything at all.”
“And your other daughter?” Eulalie kept her smile in place.
“Michelle? She was a mommy’s girl. She was all about Genevieve from the day she was born. She never had time for me, so I didn’t pay much attention to her. That’s only natural, isn’t it? We pay attention to the ones who pay attention to us. Your wife comes home with a baby that doesn’t even know you’re there. Obviously, you’re not going to pay much attention to it.”
Eulalie finished her tea and put down her cup.
“Your children must have been about eight and ten when you and your wife split up?”
“If you say so. We’d been jogging along fine for a few years when her sister came to stay. What was her name again? I can’t remember. She was a lot younger than Genevieve and better looking, although I believe she’s got fat now. I mean, what did Genevieve expect, bringing her into our house like that?”
“You slept with her?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” He smirked. “Genevieve walked in on us one day when we thought she was out shopping. You have never seen anyone go mad like that. She was hysterical. After that, it was like I couldn’t do anything right. She tried to gouge me for every penny in the divorce. There was no reasoning with her. She hated me and that was that. You would think I had murdered someone the way she carried on.”
“The divorce was acrimonious?”
“And expensive. If you think marriage is pricey, you should try divorce. I was having to finance two homes. The kids got more expensive as they got older. It was impossible to build up any capital like that.”
“You seem to have done well recently.” Eulalie indicated the glass and concrete house with its large deck and view of the sea.
“That only happened when they finally left. Rochelle disappeared, and Genevieve took the other kid and moved to England. They didn’t leave an address for me to send the alimony to, so I stopped payin
g. Then my business took off and I could finally start accumulating capital.”
Eulalie knew that he supplied solar panels to houses and offices. Prince William Island had gone green in the last few years. He must have done well out of the boom in alternative energies.
“How did Rochelle take the divorce?” she asked.
“She was fine with it. Both kids were. Rochelle took my side and Michelle took her mother’s side, which is what I would have expected. Rochelle wanted to come and live with me, but of course that wouldn’t have worked. The divorce arrangement was that Genevieve got the kids. I saw them sometimes. Rochelle always turned up for my weekends, but Michelle often didn’t.”
“What was Rochelle’s behavior like during this time?”
“She went completely off the rails. She was a typical teenager. Smoking, drinking, doing drugs. She started sleeping with boys when she was about fifteen. I told Genevieve to put her on the pill or she’d have a pregnancy on her hands. But of course she didn’t listen. Made out like the whole thing was my fault.”
“It sounds as though Rochelle was acting out.”
“You said it. She kept going further and further down the road to crazy town. She started wearing black and dyeing her hair black. When I asked her why, she said she thought I would like it. Because I wore a lot of black myself.” He shook his head. “Crazy kid. Then it was the tattoos and the body piercings. I’m telling you, it wasn’t normal.”
“With all this rebellion going on, you still don’t think she could have run away from home?”
“No way. She was stepping up her campaign to come and live with me. For years I’d been telling her that I couldn’t take her to school or make meals for her or buy her clothes because I was a man. She needed her mom for that. Now that she was eighteen, she reckoned she could do all that for herself. She even said she could look after me. She believed it was going to happen and she was happy again. It was like all her dreams were about to come true. She wouldn’t have picked that moment to disappear. I remember her saying she could finally live honestly again.”
The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries Page 124