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Persons Missing or Dead

Page 7

by Cliff Black


  “Where are you?”

  “Denver. Just a gas stop.”

  Two hours from Denver? Did he have a company airplane? “Why do you want to talk to me?” I asked.

  “I think you know where our granddaughter is.”

  “If I do, I don’t know I know it.”

  “Can I rent a car in Cortez?”

  “You might have to settle for a Jeep.”

  “That could be interesting. Haven’t driven a Jeep since Korea. How late will you be available?”

  I hadn’t said I would be available, but I was curious, so I said, “Any time before ten o’clock. Call me when you get settled.”

  What was McLaughlin after? Why was he coming here? What did he think I knew? What did I know? Carter hadn’t mentioned a granddaughter. Was she the real object of his search? How was Smith involved? Was he the father? Suppose McLaughlin wants me to find her. Did I want the case? I called Natasha and asked her to try to learn more about A. A. McLaughlin and his McLaughlin Enterprises.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was nearly seven-thirty. I had my brand new folding chaise lounge set up outside in the shade of my trailer. It was warm outside but warmer inside unless I ran the air conditioner. I disliked the noise and the cold draft the air conditioner produced. I went through the prints from the microfilm again, and then I called Ezzy. I lucked out and caught him at home.

  “How, Geronimo? How’s the PI business?”

  “Since you asked, Arthur McLaughlin is flying in to see me. He thinks I know where his granddaughter is.”

  “Do you?”

  “No way. I didn’t even know he had one missing.”

  Ezzy said, “Here’s something that might help. When James W. Smith died in that trailer fire, Social Security had recently asked him to prove his daughter lived with him. They’d been paying support for sixteen years.”

  “That would have to be the girl with two birth certificates. And she was A. A. McLaughlin’s granddaughter. That helps quite a bit, Ezzy. I couldn’t figure out why McLaughlin was interested in his ex son-in-law. It never occurred to me that Smith had custody of the girl.”

  “From the sound of things, Smith only claimed to have custody of the girl.”

  “Yeah, I see your point. Thanks for the help. I need to think about this.”

  “Does McLaughlin know about the film strips?”

  “I told him I had some information about his granddaughter. Nothing more. Do you suppose the Mexican birth certificate is a clue to her whereabouts?”

  Ezzy asked, “How much money does McLaughlin have, anyway? If there’s big bucks involved, that could change a lot of things.”

  Yeah, it could, I thought as I ended the call. He made it sound like he was in a private plane. Was it chartered or a company plane?

  I found McLaughlin’s room at the Best Western motel and knocked. A barrel shaped man with a shock of white hair opened the door. He was nearly as tall as me.

  “You must be Arthur McLaughlin,” I said and put out a hand. “I’m Daniel Corbin.”

  He took my hand in a firm handshake and said, “Come in and sit down. I’d offer you a drink, but there’s no room service in this dump.”

  “No need,” I said. His ‘dump’ was the best suite in the best motel in town. We were in a nicely furnished room separate from their bed room. I wondered what he’d have thought if I’d had him come to my trailer.

  “I’m sorry Alice, my wife, can’t be with us,” he said. “She got a little airsick and wants to lie down for a while. It was a bumpy ride. I should get a jet.”

  “Afternoon flights over the Rockies can be rough in the summer,” I said while thinking, Jets cost a lot of money.

  McLaughlin looked at me for a few seconds and then said, “Philo Carter told me you know where Cherish is. I told him I’d pay a $25,000 bonus if he found her. Now I’m offering it to you. Tell me where she is and the twenty-five K is yours.”

  “I’m sorry, Mister McLaughlin. I have no idea why Carter said that.”

  “What? Twenty-five thou isn’t enough? You damned PI’s. The first thing you investigate is my financial statement. How much do you want?”

  Money seemed to be uppermost on McLaughlin’s mind. I said, “Believe me, Mister McLaughlin, I’d be happy to tell you where your granddaughter is. Twenty-five thousand is quite a bit of money to me.”

  “Why did you contact me if you have nothing to sell? Carter said you knew all about Jimmy Smith and his supposed daughter, Eileen. I’m sorry he used such crude tactics on you.” As he talked, McLaughlin kept fingering a large diamond ring on his right hand.

  I looked at Arthur for a few seconds. I thought I had him figured out. I said, “Tell me Carter didn’t offer to beat the information out of me for a price.”

  McLaughlin looked nonplused for a minute and then said, “Finding her granddaughter is very important to Alice. She’s her only living descendant. Now that she has the resources, she’s determined to find out what happened to Cherish no matter what it costs. If you don’t know where the girl is, what do you know?” It was only later that I understood the significance of what Arthur said, and what he had not said.

  I said, “Let me begin by telling you I take very few cases. I don’t have the time. I’m a full-time math teacher at Fort Lewis College in Durango. My home is in Durango. I’m only in Cortez because I bought a camping trailer in a sheriff’s sale over here. While replacing light fixtures in the trailer, I discovered two strips of microfilm. The information on the film is what led me to contact you.”

  “Who was the previous owner?”

  “Candace Appleton. She’s the one I asked you about. She disappeared about eight months ago.”

  “What was on the microfilm?”

  I opened my briefcase, pulled out the eight by ten prints, and handed them to him. I held back the article about James W. Smith’s death and the Mexican certificates.

  As soon as Arthur saw the first picture he said, “Yes, that’s our wayward daughter and that bottom feeder, Jimmy Smith. He claimed to be Cherish’s father. I wish we’d had the presence of mind to contest his claim, have a blood test, or something. I don’t think Mary even met him until a few weeks before the baby was born.”

  He set that photo aside and looked at the next one. “This little girl looks like Cherish. She’s a bit older, but I feel certain that’s her. Give me a minute. Let me show Alice.” He was gone about two minutes. When he came back he asked, “Who is the woman holding her?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He went through the document photos and the article about Mary’s death quickly; then set them all aside, picked up the top photo, and looked at me again. “Only this photo of Cherish with the dark-haired woman is new to me. Is this all you have?”

  I asked, “If Smith didn’t meet Mary until shortly before Cherish was born, why did you let him have her?”

  McLaughlin stared at me for a minute and then said, “It’s really none of your business, but at the time I didn’t think we could afford to fight it. Smith showed us the marriage license and the Eileen Smith birth certificate. They seemed authentic, and Mary had lied to us about a lot of things. She and Jimmy were living together when she was killed. It seemed possible they had married before the baby was born, even though Mary lived at home until two weeks before the birth.”

  “Why did she leave then?”

  “We don’t need to dig up old family problems.” He paused. “Smith promised he’d send pictures and keep us informed of how Cherish was doing. It didn’t happen. It broke Alice’s heart. Two years ago, Alice decided to find her. That’s when we hired C&M. Smith’s marriage license and the birth certificate are forgeries. When C&M found Smith, we thought our search was over. Now we’re back to square one–unless you know something you’re not telling me.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I’m convinced that despicable gutter worm either sold her or killed her.” He choked on the last two words.

  His emotion s
eemed out of character, but I felt a rush of sympathy for him. I decided to tell him about the Mexican birth certificate. “I didn’t bring it with me, but I have a photo of a Mexican birth certificate for a girl born in Nogales, Mexico. The dates, even the year, are different than Cherish’s, but only by a few weeks. If Smith sold your granddaughter, it could have been to the woman holding her in that photo.” McLaughlin studied the image as I continued. “The Mexican birth certificate could be another phony used to cover an illegal adoption.”

  “So, I take it the birth certificate is what you’re selling?” McLaughlin growled.

  My sympathy faded fast. “There’s no evidence the Mexican certificate has anything to do with your granddaughter, though given where it was found it seems possible.”

  “What’s the mother’s name? Surely she can be traced.”

  “Mister McLaughlin, doesn’t it seem likely the name would be a phony too? How can anyone trace a forged Mexican birth certificate with phony names?”

  “I can hire someone to do the job.”

  Money again. “Like whom, Philo Carter? With his finesse, he’ll wind up in jail or dead. And have you ever considered the girl might not want to be found?”

  “That’s idiotic. We could give her anything she wants. She would inherit mi-- a lot of money. She would be thrilled to be reunited with her grammy.”

  “Maybe not. She won’t remember you or your wife. She may already have what she wants. Think about it. Smith wouldn’t sell her cheap. She could be part of a wealthy Mexican family. She may not even speak English. Besides, some people aren’t that hung up on money.”

  “Show me one. Everyone has their price . . . Oh, I get it. You won’t tell me where she is, even for twenty-five thousand bucks, but for that and some hefty expenses you’ll find her for me. Is that it?”

  I thought I wanted a rich client, but Arthur’s ‘I can buy anyone’ attitude was too much. I said, “I think I’ve heard all I want to, Mister McLaughlin. I wouldn’t like working for you, and I don’t have to take a case I don’t like.” I picked up my photos and walked out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, while I was trying to shower without kicking a hole in the trailer’s tiny shower stall, it occurred to me that my argument about the Mexican birth certificate was full of holes. It might be a forgery, but some of the names on the document had to be authentic. Otherwise what good was it?

  I turned on my phone when I sat down to eat a bowl of Wheaties. I don’t know why I did it. Sometimes after I make my first call of a day I’ll leave the phone on. Depends on how much of the world I feel like letting into my life. I was only half-way through breakfast when the phone rang. I reached over and shut it off. Ten minutes later, I returned the call. A hesitant woman answered.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Daniel Corbin. You called me.”

  “Oh, Mister Corbin, please help me find my granddaughter. I’ll pay you $250 a day and cover your expenses.”

  “I take it you’re Alice McLaughlin. I told your husband--”

  “I heard what you told him. He doesn’t care about Cherish the way I do.”

  “Hire a detective agency. And I don’t mean Philo Carter or someone like him. I mean a reputable firm with the resources to do the job right.”

  “I want you. I can tell you’re honest, and I heard what you said about the Mexican birth certificate. Besides, I want someone that knows this area. Someone the local people will talk to. I have a feeling Cherish is near here. Call it a grandmother’s instinct. I think you can find her.”

  I wished I felt half as confident. I asked, “How long are you going to be in town?”

  “Arthur is out having breakfast now. As soon as he gets back, we’re leaving.”

  “Let me think about it. If you’ll give me a number, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I recognized the number she gave me. It was the one on the back of McLaughlin’s business card. The one I’d taken from Philo.

  As soon as I ended that call, I rang up Natasha. When she picked up the phone, I said, “Hi Nat, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, dad, I’ve been up for at least two minutes. How did your meeting with money-bags McLaughlin go?”

  “What a stuffed shirt. He wanted me to find his granddaughter. He thinks he can buy anything and anybody. I walked out on him. This morning his wife called. Now, she wants me to find the granddaughter. I’m thinking about it. Do you have time to find some people for me? This won’t be a fifteen minute search.”

  “You mean like telephone numbers?”

  “Phone numbers would be very helpful.”

  “Give me the names.”

  “Jose Alfredo Gil and/or Maria Virginia Teresa Castillo Gil. That's G-I-L. Last known residence is Nogales, Mexico sixteen years ago. You might find them in Arizona or New Mexico, or they might still be in Old Mexico. If Jose Alfredo doesn’t show up, you might try Joseph Alfred.”

  “I’ll work on it. It may take a few days. You’ve given me a lot of area to cover. Oh, Dad, Mary Schneider has been trying to get hold of you. Isn’t she your department head?”

  “She is.” There wasn’t anything Mary Schneider wanted to say to me that I wanted to hear. It paid to not have my cell phone on all the time. “She probably wants to give me another ration for missing the summer sessions.”

  “She can’t like fire you, can she?”

  “She can’t fire me, but I don’t have tenure. She can recommend dismissal for cause. I don’t think what I’ve done is cause enough, but stranger things happen. What she can definitely do is make life miserable for me, give me dumbbell math classes, night classes, all freshman classes, stuff like that.”

  “Dad, do you know what the kids call her?”

  “Oh, yes, Bloody Mary. She earned that name from her calculus classes. She likes to bleed red marks all over her student’s homework.”

  “When are you coming home again? I have a surprise for you.”

  “What is it.”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

  I had a sudden urge to go home to Durango. I could use a good surprise, and Nat sounded happy–as long as she wasn’t engaged. I hadn’t even met her boyfriend.

  I decided I should call Shelly before I left. I could at least leave a message that I was going home. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Shelly, it’s me, Daniel. I thought you might be at work. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “I don’t have to work today. I’ve already done two hundred laps of the pool and some weeding. Now I’m flaked out down by my rose garden. They're not blooming much right now, though. I guess it's the heat. Do you know anything about roses?”

  “Have you cut the old blooms off after they wilt? That will encourage more growth and more flowers.”

  “That's deadheading, isn't it?” She asked. “I was reading something about that. Maybe the landscape people know, but I don't want someone else messing with my roses. I guess I'll have to get used to the idea, though. I’m gonna miss this place when it sells.”

  “You’re selling your house? Why?”

  “Hey, Daniel, I’m not rich just because I drive a Jaguar. I can’t afford even the property tax on this place let alone mortgage payments, utilities, and upkeep. You ought to see how big it is. Now that’s a good idea. Why don’t you come over tonight for a barbeque?”

  “Can I take a rain check?” I was more interested in Nat’s surprise and the thought of searching for Cherish McLaughlin than a barbeque.

  “Maybe. It depends on why you can’t come. And don’t feed me another Geronimo line. Why not tonight?”

  “I have a client. I’m going home to Durango, and I may need to take a trip.”

  “A client? What kind of a client? Evelyn said you were a math teacher.”

  “I’m also a private investigator.”

  There was a pause then Shelly said, “A P. I., huh? Maybe I should hire you to find my ex.”

 
; “Not a good idea. Conflict of interest. I might not want to find him.”

  “I don’t want you to find him alive. I want you to find, or maybe even make him, dead.”

  I had to think Shelly was joking, even though she sounded serious. “I’d have to charge more for an assassination.”

  “Don't I get special rates? Why is it so easy to hire a hit man in the movies and so hard in real life? If you happen to run across a good hit man, send him to me.”

  “I’ll call you in a day or two,” I said.

  “Okay, big boy, stay out of trouble.”

  I felt a little guilty when I finished the call, but I didn't feel like socializing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Instead of our old Honda Accord, there was a bright red Mazda Miata in our carport. It looked new. I assumed that was Nat’s surprise. I parked to the side of the carport and went inside. It was about ten o’clock, and Natasha was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.

  “Tell me you didn’t borrow Marcie’s car again,” I said.

  “Oh, hi, Dad. No, this one’s all mine, well, mine and the finance company’s. If they ever find out how old I am, you’ll have to co-sign.”

  I tried not to show displeasure. I’d told Nat she could trade her mom’s Honda on something sporty, but I had asked her to wait until my truck came. My broken leg wouldn’t fit in a sporty car. I also hoped she wouldn’t get too deeply in debt. “Pretty fancy car. When did you get it?”

  “Yesterday. I’ve driven it clear to work and back.”

  “What does Marcie think about your getting a car like hers?”

  “She doesn’t know, and if I play it cool for a couple of weeks she won’t find out. Fort Lewis College isn’t good enough for her. She’s going to UC Boulder.”

  “There are advantages to going to a university, but I’m glad we’re here at Fort Lewis. You’ve been on your own quite a bit this summer, though. How have you been, anyway, Nat? How are things in your life now?”

 

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