by Erin Huss
“Are you sure it was Friday night?”
“Yes, very sure. It was October 10. The same day I got the letter saying I passed the first United States Medical Licensing Examination. Sal and the chef’s made me a special meal that night.”
“What was the guy’s name?” I asked.
“Not sure.”
“Can you give us a physical description?” Camry asked.
“He had hair that was dark and wavy. He ate meatball subs to go. He was very nice. Once when he came in to get his lunch, I thought he was going to pass out—he got very dizzy—so I had him sit down and wait for it to pass.”
Dizzy. Dark wavy hair. Worked at a computer supply store. Very nice. Not a lot to go off of but a start.
“Is there anything else you can think of that could be helpful?” I asked.
“No.” Deb unwrapped a taffy and put it in her mouth.
I consulted my list of questions. “As a doctor, what did you make of her physical and emotional state?”
Deb waited to swallow before she answered. “I didn’t like her coloring and I thought she was too thin. I asked her about her health, and she said she had a yeast infection. I told her to buy over the counter medication. She was training for a marathon. I told her not to go for a run because it will make it worse, and she should go for a walk or a nice hike.”
Crap.
“You told her not to run but to go for a hike?”
“I did. She told me she had to exercise to help with her stress, because she was having breakfast with her mother the next morning and her mother stressed her out.”
I reached over and grabbed Deb’s arm before she tossed another taffy into her mouth. “She said she was meeting her mom the next morning? Are you sure she said next?”
“Positive. She said she was meeting her mother ‘tomorrow morning.’ She told me her mother was hard to handle. Listen to me. In South Africa I was a brilliant surgeon. I came to America and served meatballs. It was a very boring and depressing job for me, so I listened to people to keep my brain active.”
I believed her. “Have you spoken to the police about any of this?”
“Why would I? I didn’t know she was missing until I saw it on Facebook.”
“A detective never came to Sal’s?” I asked.
“I quit the day I passed the first part of the exam.”
I grabbed a notebook from my bag and clicked my pen. “Can I get your phone number and address? You should be hearing from a Detective LeClare soon.”
“Why a detective?”
“Because Amelia’s mother claims to have been in San Francisco all week,” said Camry.
Episode Seventeen
A New Suspect
Deb hurried back to work. Camry bought another bag of taffy while I left a message for Detective LeClare with Dr. Naidoo’s contact information. If Amelia planned to meet Janet on Thursday, it meant Janet Clark wasn’t in San Francisco. Which meant she lied about her whereabouts the week of Amelia’s disappearance. Which meant Richard Clark lied as well. If they lied about Janet being in San Francisco, what else did they lie about? And why?
On the other hand, Amelia could have been mistaken.
Dr. Naidoo wasn’t the only one to mention Amelia’s sickly appearance. Her boss, Kelly, mentioned it as well. Per her missing poster, Amelia weighed 105 lbs. I weighed 105 pounds (at least I did before I met Hazel). I was five foot (on a good hair day). Amelia was six inches taller than me. It would be one thing if she were naturally lean. But she wasn’t. Based on pictures, she was of average build until the last few months when she dropped a significant amount of weight.
We knew her neighbors had contaminated soil.
I wasn’t captain of the statistics club like Amelia was, but the odds seemed to favor the Clark’s had contaminated soil as well.
Which meant the odds are higher than average that she was exposed. At twenty-three, that would put Amelia about the same age as the other young adults diagnosed with cancers and thyroid problems.
It was a stretch.
But a possibility.
If Amelia were feeling sick and tired, she could have mixed up the dates.
I was not sure what to do with this information just yet. If it were true, and Janet was in town, it would be amazing investigative journalism on my part.
If it were false, then it would ruin the Clarks.
I decided to keep it quiet for now.
Camry and I left the candy shop and walked back to the parking lot. It was overcast but warm. Surfers were loading and unloading surfboards. Families were loading and unloading sand toys from their minivans. Seagulls swooped over our heads and the waves crashed against the shore in the background. The ocean breeze felt good against my skin. Reminded me of home.
When we reached the car, I held out my keys for Camry.
“You’re letting me drive your car?” she said. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
I dropped the keys in her hand. “I’m going to answer emails and get work done while you drive.”
“Now I’m your peon and personal chauffeur?”
“Yep.”
Camry and I got in and buckled our seat belts. She started the car and revved the engine. “Listen to that single cylinder? So much power! I hope I can manage.” She put it into reverse “Where are we going?”
“Where do you think?”
“Computer Supply Warehouse to ask about the wavy-haired dizzy boy?”
“Bingo.”
Episode Eighteen
A Complicated Discovery
Computer Supply Warehouse used to be the one-stop shop for all your technology needs. The last time I saw a CSW store was when I was in middle school, and my dad needed a new fax machine.
Who needs a warehouse when you have Amazon?
And who needs a Tech Nerd when you have YouTube?
Conversing in person was a dying art.
Across the street was the hotel where the Direct Dental gala was held. I had assumed Amelia went home after she ran away from the security guards—but that doesn’t appear to be the case. According to Deb, the restaurant to the right of the Warehouse used to be Sal’s Diner. It was now a pizza place.
Logistically, everything Deb said matched up perfectly.
Inside, Computer Supply Warehouse looked like your typical office supply store with soft rock blasting through the speakers. Camry and I both had microphones clipped to the inside of our shirts, and we walked around for a while until we found an employee sitting on the floor stocking ink cartridges.
“Excuse me?” I said.
She looked up. Her hair was streaked purple and her eyes were circled in thick liner. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. We’re looking for information on an employee who worked here in October of 2008.”
“Huh?”
“Is there a manager I can talk to...” I searched for a nametag pinned to her red polo. No tag. “Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Sheila, and I am the manager.”
“You should wear nametags,” said Camry.
“We’re not allowed to, it’s against company policy.”
“Makes sense.” Camry shrugged. “Keep it impersonal. Great for business.”
Sheila stood and confronted Camry. “Who are you?”
I stepped between them. “We’re podcasters doing a story on a local girl who disappeared in 2008. We think she may have been dating a former employee.”
“Which employee?”
Good question. “He worked here in October of 2008 and had dark wavy hair. He was nice.”
“And he was once dizzy,” added Camry.
“He was nice?” Sheila snickered. “Then he ain’t work here no more. No one here is nice.” Sheila took her box of ink and moved to the next aisle.
“I’m sure if we look through your employee files we could find him,” I said.
Sheila stared at me as if I just suggested she change her name to BoBo and runoff to join the circus. “I can’t let you look through confidential employee files. If you want that kind of information you’re gonna have to call corporate.”
“Maybe we could ask your other employees if they remember anyone here by that description?” I said. “Do you have senior staff?”
“Don’t be bothering my employees, we’re very busy today.”
The store was empty. I could almost hear the crickets. On the other side of the warehouse I spotted an employee in his mid-thirties working the copier center. “What about that guy. Has he been here long?”
“I don’t need you distracting my employees. I think it’s time for you two to leave.” Sheila lived on a short fuse. We should introduce her to Carlos, I thought.
Obviously we weren’t going to get anywhere with Sheila. “You know what, you’re right. I should call corporate,” I said. “Thank you so much for your time, Sheila.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”
Camry and I walked toward the exit. When Sheila went back to stocking ink, we made a U-turn and headed straight for the copier counter. “How long have you worked here?” I asked the man in lieu of a hello.
“About a month, but I can assure you I know what I’m doing.” Copier Guy looked like Bert—as in Bert and Ernie. The similarity was uncanny.
“Is there anyone in today who worked here in 2008?” I asked in a rush.
Camry elbowed me in the side. “Sheila spotted us.”
Copier Guy turned around and yelled to the guy working the Tech Nerd counter. “You work here in 2008?”
“She looks pissed,” said Camry. “Hurry up.”
I dug around in my bag and pull out the End is Near! Repent Now! flyer. “I need fifty copies, card stock, pink, ASAP.” I slapped the crinkled paper on the counter. Sheila couldn’t kick out a paying customer.
The Tech Nerd walked over while Copier Guy read the flyer. “Fifty copies?” he asked. “Of this?”
“What’s up?” Ironically, Tech Nerd sort of looked like Ernie.
“Hurry up,” hissed Camry.
“Did you work here in October of 2008, and if you did, did you know a guy who had dark wavy hair, and was very nice, and dizzy?” I blurted out in a panic.
Tech Nerd/Ernie scratched his head while Copier Guy/Bert worked hard to iron out the wrinkled flyer by rubbing it with his forearm.
“Are you talking about Lewis?” asked Tech Nerd.
Camry turned around. “What?”
“Sure,” I said. “Could be Lewis. What was his last name?”
Sheila was fast approaching.
“Lewis,” said Tech Nerd.
Sheila tapped my shoulder. “I thought I told you to leave?”
“I’m a customer!”
“She’s right,” said Copier Guy. “I’ve got it right here.” He showed her the flyer. I didn’t notice the spaceship drawing on the bottom before.
Or that it looked like a penis.
Camry dropped to the floor. “I tripped!”
“On what?” Sheila demanded.
“The floor is wet, and there’s no wet sign. My ankle!” She held her calf. “Liv, get my lawyer on the phone.”
“That’s it! I’m calling the cops.” Sheila pulled her phone from her back pocket.
Which gave me enough time to ask Tech Nerd: “Hurry, what was the guy’s name!”
He looked flustered. “I can’t remember his first name. We called him Lewis.”
“Yes, my name is Sheila, and I’m calling from Computer Supply Warehouse, we have two women who are possibly on drugs causing a disturbance.”
Camry leapt off the ground and grabbed my arm. “Didn’t work. Time to go.”
“Wait.” I turned to Tech Nerd. “Think, please. I need a first name.”
“Um...shoot! We just called him Lewis. But I know his first name. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I hate when that happens.”
“Send enforcements now!” said Sheila.
Geez.
“Give me something. Anything,” I pleaded. “Andrew, Byran, Connor, Bert, Ernie!”
“Damn, it’s not coming to me.” Tech Nerd’s face turned red from thinking too hard. “But I heard he’s a YouTuber now.”
My heart skyrocketed into my throat, and I stumbled backwards. “Not, Oliver Lewis.”
He snapped and pointed right at me. “That’s it.”
“Let’s go!” Camry dragged me toward the exit. Sheila chased after us, still on the phone.
“You still want these copies!” Copier Guy called after us.
I was too stunned to respond.
We got to the car. Camry pushed me in, started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. “Cutting it close there, Liv...Liv?”
I can’t breathe.
“Liv?”
Camry pulled over to the side of the rode and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“He said Oliver Lewis. Oliver Lewis!” I freaked.
“Lewis and Oliver are both popular names. It doesn’t mean it’s the same one.”
“He said Oliver Lewis who now has a YouTube channel!”
“My cousin?”
“Yeah.”
“The one you made out with?”
“Yeah.”
“The one you stripped for?”
“Yeah...wait, what?”
“This isn’t good.”
“No!”
“But Oliver is deaf. Dr. Naidoo would have said that. She’s, like, a doctor.”
“He wasn’t always deaf. Remember? Hazel said he has an inner ear disease. Inner ear problems can cause dizziness. And Hazel said he lost his hearing completely the day his grandpa died. His grandpa died the same day Amelia went missing.”
“This isn’t good,” she said.
“This is horrible! If Oliver had something to do with Amelia’s disappearance and I made out with him, I discredit the entire project!”
“Yeah, and also he’s my cousin.”
“I know!”
“Let’s call Hazel.”
“Okay.”
Camry had the sense to put the phone on speaker. “Did Oliver work at Computer Supply Warehouse?” she asked as soon as Hazel answered.
“When he was in college. Why do you ask?”
I broke out in a sob. “This is so bad. This is awful. This is terrible!”
“Is that Liv?” asked Hazel. “What is she saying?”
“Errr...nothing.”
“Did she ever text Oliver back?”
“Errr...no.”
“She really should. He wants to speak to her.”
“Yeah, okay. I gotta go.” Camry hung up.
“He lied to us! He lied to me! And I kissed a possible suspect,” I said, blubbering. “This ruins the credibility of the entire podcast. Even if he had nothing to do with her disappearance, he’s a witness. My career is ruined.”
Camry had her phone out. “What are you doing now?” I asked.
“I’m texting Oliver, telling him to meet us ASAP.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I already did and...he’s typing...and typing...still typing...dots are dancing on the screen....typing...still typing...he must have a lot to say....and we have a response.”
I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. “What did he say?”
“He said ‘K.’”
Episode Nineteen
The Date
Oliver was on a hike of all places. A trail called Pirates Cove in Avila Beach (about ten minutes from Pismo, we were blowing through a lot of gas). It took about forty min
utes to get there, which was about how long it took for me to get a grip.
I was no longer sobbing. I was seething.
Oliver knew Amelia. Not only did he know her, he dated her. There was only one reason for Oliver to keep this a secret from us: a guilty conscience.
No wonder he wanted me to drop this podcast.
In over my head.
Pffft!
Pirates Cove runs along the coast with a breathtaking view of the waves crashing against the cliffs. Oliver was standing at the ledge with his video camera out, pointed toward the Pacific.
Camry tapped his shoulder. He turned and smiled. “Wave.” He held up the camera for a group selfie shot. I pushed it down. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You had a date with Amelia Clark,” I signed.
“Yes, but she never showed up,” he signed back. “I told you this when we were wine tasting.”
“I was drunk, Oliver. I don’t remember.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. You saw me, how did you not notice?”
“I thought you were faded not drunk,” he said while signing. “You don’t remember anything?”
Camry waved her hand to get Oliver’s attention. “She vaguely remembers making out with you,” she said, as if this tidbit of information helped the situation. “And I told her about the stripping.”
Oh geez.
Oliver scrunched his face. “Is that why you didn’t text me back?”
“Not important. The problem is you knew Amelia and didn’t tell me.”
“I did tell you.”
“I was drunk!”
A woman carrying her Chihuahua in a Bjorn gave us a sideways glance before she entered the trail.
“You know wine only has 15 percent alcohol, right?” Oliver said and signed.
Camry got Oliver’s attention. “She’s a virgin,” she said.
Two college-aged girls walked by and giggled.
“What did Camry say?” Oliver asked me.
“I’m a lightweight,” I signed and, for the record, not a virgin. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”
“I didn’t know this was a serious thing you two were doing,” he said and signed. “And I don’t want to be recorded. I have no idea what my voice sounds like anymore.”