by Erin Huss
“Did she say why she wanted to cancel her cell plan?” I asked him.
“That’s the weird part. She said that she had found herself in a relationship with an egotistical maniac who was paying for her phone. I couldn’t cancel the line because she wasn’t the main account holder.”
“Please, please tell me she gave you the name of the egotistical maniac.” I crossed my fingers.
“No she didn’t.”
Dang it.
“But, after she ran out I did a search and couldn’t find her name on any account.”
I rose to my knees. “Did you ever tell the police? They should have been able to find out who paid for her phone. I’m almost positive they pulled her cell records.”
“I never talked to the cops. When I heard she had disappeared, I figured she was strung out and left. My sister, who lives in Santa Maria, is down here visiting me for the weekend and she told me about the Aluminum Woman video and the podcast. So that’s why I contacted you.”
“Are you sure there were no accounts with her name on it?”
“I’m positive, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of people add lines without saying whom the line belongs to.”
I decided to play devil’s advocate. “Do you think she was on her parent’s account?” Up until a year ago, I was still on my dad’s cell plan. Not a far-fetched idea.
“Have you ever met Richard Clark?” he asked with a laugh. “He’s one of the nicest guys in town. There’s no way she was talking about her father. I think it was an ex-boyfriend.”
“Why ex-boyfriend?”
“Because she said she found herself in a relationship with an egotistical maniac. Seemed like something you’d say about a boyfriend not a father.”
True.
The only ex-boyfriend we knew of was Jeremy Wang. But why would Amelia refuse to let her employer know she was dating Jeremy but be okay with entering into a cell plan together? Sure, they were together for a year, but they’d been broken up for three months at the time.
“Todd, do you remember the make and model of the cell phone Amelia had?”
“It was an older flip phone if I remember correctly.”
“Do you mean older like six months? A year? Two years? Something straight out of the nineties? Can you be more definitive?”
“I’d say it was five or six years old. It wasn’t a model that we carried anymore. You’ve got to remember, 2008 was the year the iPhone came out.”
No, I didn’t remember. It felt like the iPhone had been around forever. “When you start a new plan do you get a new phone?”
“Typically, yes.”
“If Amelia’s ex-boyfriend had added her to his line, would she have gotten a new number and phone?”
“Not necessarily. If she were with the same carrier, she could have kept both her phone and her number and be added to a different account.”
I felt like I was on the cusp of pertinent information here, if I could only ask the right question. “And you said that you searched the accounts and didn’t find Amelia Clark anywhere?” I confirmed.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Would she have shown up in the system if she’d cancelled her account recently?”
“Yes, it would have shown up, but it would have said cancelled. They kept account information in case customers wanted to come back.”
“So...” I was thinking out loud. “If Amelia was added to an account, but she had a different cell provider before, could she have kept her phone and number?”
Todd paused. “No,” he said with little confidence. “I think she would have gotten a new phone, just because we had our own SIM cards.”
“And Amelia wanted you to take the phone.”
“Yes, she was manic about it, too. She acted like the phone was holding her back. Like she was afraid of it. It’s weird to say it out loud, but that’s what I was thinking at the time.”
“Do you think it’s safe to say that Amelia was on someone’s plan and, based on the age of her phone, that she’d been on the plan for a long time?”
“I’d say that would be a safe assumption,” he said. “Yes.”
Which begged the question: Was there an egotistical maniac we had yet to learn about?
Or had we already met him?
Episode Twenty-Five
The Verge of Discovery
“I need to speak to Richard and Janet because this is getting out of hand,” I said to Hazel. We were in the kitchen doing the dishes. She was washing. I was drying. Everyone else was in the living room watching the news coverage of Brinkley Douglas—the body they found in the park. They had a suspect, but I could only concentrate on one dead person at a time.
Hazel gave me a clean dish to dry. “Why don’t you go over there and tell them the stories you’ve heard?”
“I would, but I don’t have any real facts, just theories. I don’t want to come across as if I’m accusing them.” I added the dried dish to the pile and grabbed another from Hazel. “I don’t have the tact for that, and Camry sure as hell doesn’t.”
“I haven’t known you for long, Liv Olsen, but what I do know for sure is that you’ve got plenty of tact. You’ve got plenty of oomph, too. Whatever oomph means.”
“It means...oomph. I’m not sure. I’d never used the term before Mara told me I didn’t have it, now I use it all the time.” I took a clean cup from Hazel, dried it off and added it to the stack. “I think it means drive, gumption...balls.”
“I never understood why people say ‘balls’ like it’s a good thing.” She handed me a pot. “Who wants balls? A swift kick to the gonads and you’re down. Balls make you vulnerable. Weak. When John used to complain I’d tell him to grow a vagina and suck it up.”
I laughed. “Fine, I guess you could say I’m vagina-less then.”
Errrr, that doesn’t sound right.
Hazel emptied the sink water, dried her hands, and leaned against the counter. “Now you listen here, young lady.” She shook a damp dishtowel at me. “Would a person without oomph quit their job and drive four and a half hours to stay with a stranger? Would an oomph-less person dump all their money into a missing-person case? A missing person they never met? Would an oomph-less person drive around town, stalking people at Target or CPA offices, spend their nights locked in a closet, working on a radio show?”
“Podcast,” I said.
“Podcast, radio show. It doesn’t matter. You my dear have more vagina than anyone I’ve ever met.”
This was the sweetest compliment I’d ever received.
“And trust me,” she continued. “Janet Clark is a weird cookie. I wouldn’t discount any stories heard about that woman.”
I removed the soaked apron tied around my waist. “I know you said that you don’t see Janet around town, and that she stays inside her house. But, honestly, when was the last time anyone actually saw Janet Clark in the last year?”
Hazel filled the teakettle and put it on the burner. “I can’t say. Why?”
“Curious that’s all. She feels like an enigma.”
“She’s a crazy enigma is what she is.”
I pulled a chair up to the counter and used it as a stepstool to reach the mugs in the cabinet. Short person problems. Hazel poured hot water into my cup and I dropped a chamomile bag in. I watched as the water turned to a murky orange. “People said the same thing about Amelia.”
“Say what? That she was a weird cookie or a crazy enigma?”
“That she was crazy.” I wrapped my hands around my mug to get warm. “And maybe she was. Maybe she was sick and skipped town. Maybe she was a little crazy. Maybe we’re all a little crazy.” I took a sip. The warm chamomile soothed my throat. I’d done a lot of talking in the last twenty-four hours. “But for both women to be weird cookies makes you wonder.”
“Makes you
wonder what?” Hazel asked.
“Makes you wonder if they were living with an egotistical maniac…”
Holy crap.
That’s it!
I set my mug on the counter and walked out to the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Hazel followed me.
Oliver was stretched out in a chair. Camry was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a crochet blanket. Austin was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the television. Maybe we’d have to look at Brinkley Douglas for season two.
I stood at the front of the room. “I’m going to the Clark’s house right now.”
Camry checked her watch. “It’s almost eight?”
“I want to talk to them.” I pounded my fist into my palm. “And I’ve got enough vagina to do it!” I grabbed my keys, my bag, my recorder and the pepper spray. I’m ready.
“Did she say ‘vagina’?” I heard Oliver ask as I closed the front door behind me.
“Was it necessary for all of us to come?” Camry asked from the backseat, squished between Oliver and Austin.
I looked in the rearview mirror. “All I said was that I’m going to the Clark’s house and you all piled in the car.”
“This is all rather invigorating,” said Hazel from the front passenger seat.
“The black jumpsuit wasn’t necessary though,” I said to her. “I’m going to talk to them not rob them.”
Hazel flattened out her black velvet suit, the one she changed into before we left. “It’s important to dress for any occasion, dear.”
I parked in front of the vacant lot at the end of the street. Camry and I left the podcasting posse in the car and knocked on the Clark’s door. The lights were off. The blinds were drawn. We could see the glow of the television through the front door window but there was no answer. Just like last time.
We went back to the car and waited. Someone would have to come home eventually.
The windows fogged enough for Austin to scribe his name. I turned on the defroster. “Can we all breathe a little less?”
“I can hold my breath for almost a minute,” said Camry.
Austin stared at her in wonder. “Th-that’s amazing.”
“When I was a girl, I could hold my breath for two minutes,” said Hazel.
Before I knew it, we were all holding our breath.
Oliver won with two minutes and ten seconds.
“I want a re-match,” said Camry. “Austin messed me up.”
“H-How did I mess you up?”
“You kept looking at me.”
“S-s-sorry.”
“Car lights!” Oliver said and we all ducked down.
A silver Chevy truck zoomed past us and pulled into the Clark’s garage, right beside an old station wagon with wooden side panels.
I grabbed the recorder and turned to Camry. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Damaged Footage
Camry and I stood at the Clark’s front door. We could still see the glow of the television, but for the first time, we could hear the accompanied audio. It sounded like a basketball game. Camry knocked.
No answer.
We waited for a while, knocked once more, and just as we were about to give up, the door opened.
It was Richard. He had on shorts, a faded Dodgers shirt, and tube socks. His eyes were tired and his smile flat. “What can I do for you two this late at night?”
“Sorry to bother you at home.” I had the recorder at my waist, pointed at Richard. “There are a few details which have surfaced that we wanted to discuss with you.”
He was not amused, and I felt a bit panicky. “Right now?”
You’ve got this, I told myself for the zillionth time. Calm down. “Was Amelia on your cell plan?”
“She was, why?”
Oh crap!
This, of course, proved nothing. But it sure did cast a shadow of doubt on the Clark’s character, because I was 90 percent positive Richard Clark was the egotistical maniac Amelia was referring to.
Richard eyed the recorder. “I told you I’m not doing an interview for your show.”
“Yes, you did.” I didn’t move. If I hid the recorder or counted on my lavalier mic to pick up his voice, the audio could be distorted, and this was important. “Was your soil ever tested for contamination?” These were the little questions I wanted answered before I could get into his or Janet’s alleged mistruths. I had a sinking suspicion he wouldn’t be happy once I asked.
“No. People are overly dramatic about everything,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “The soil is fine around here; the whole thing was blown out of proportion.”
“Did the oil company offer to test your soil?”
For an instant, his gaze darkened. “No.”
Why would they offer to test everyone’s soil but his? Is what I was thinking, but what I asked was, “Did you know Jeremy Wang and Amelia were dating?”
“Yes.”
“Did Amelia ever introduce you to him?” It dawned on me that I never asked Jeremy if Amelia had ever brought him home. A year was a long time to date someone and not have them meet your parents.
“Put the recorder away,” he said, instead of answering the question. “You said you’d be respectful of our family if we let you do this.”
“Did you know Carlos and Jeremy were friends?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m not answering anything else until you put that recorder away!” Richard caught himself and took a breath. “You’re not allowed to use any of my audio without my permission,” he said more even toned.
“Actually, I can.” Especially now that I suspected Richard Clark played a role in his daughter’s disappearance. “But as promised, I will continue to be respectful of all parties involved.”
Richard’s jaws tightened. “How is recording me against my will respectful?”
“What hotel did you and Janet stay at in San Francisco?” I asked.
“Why is that important? The police already checked.”
“Is Janet here? We’d like to speak to her.”
“I told you she doesn’t want to speak to anyone about anything.”
“The problem is we’ve been told that Janet was in town the week of Amelia’s disappearance, and we were also told that Amelia attempted to cancel her cell plan the week she disappeared. She said the reason for cancelling was because the person paying for it was an egotistical maniac. Would you like to speak to that?”
Richard closed his eyes, sucked in a breath through his nose and pushed it out of his mouth. He did this a few times before his eyes snapped open. They’d gone from brown to black. Like I was staring at the devil himself, and all I wanted to do is run. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t here for me. I was here for Amelia. I was here for Leon. I was here for the truth.
“We’re done! No more podcast!” yelled Richard.
“With all due respect, I don’t need your permission to continue,” I said.
Camry tugged on my sleeve. “Maybe we should go?”
“No.” I stood my ground. “I want to speak to Janet, please? It’s only fair she has an opportunity to give her side.” And I wanted to make sure she was still alive.
“Get off my property before I call the police!”
I rose to my toes. “I want to speak to Janet!”
He slammed the door shut and I stood there in shock.
Well that didn’t exactly go as I planned.
Camry pulled me down the driveway by my arm. My heart was slamming against my chest and I felt agitated and icky. Like I needed a bath. Like I’d been hugged by a demon. It was an odd, terrible, uneasy sensation.
“Well, he’s nuts,” said Camry as we neared the street. “Screw cadaver dogs we need an exorcist.”
I stopped at the end of the driveway. “Something isn’t right.”
“Ya think?”
“No, I mean it. When was the last time anyone saw Janet Clark? She could be dead for all we know. She could be locked inside. She could be locked inside with Amelia.”
I turned around and glanced at the house. The rhythmic glow of the television played against the drawn blinds and...what in the world?
Between a blind slat was a pair of eyes gazing out at us. At me. They were too small and feminine to be Richard’s. I cut across the grass to get a closer look. The eyes were blue, empty, old, and unblinking. They looked almost fake.
“Janet?” I mouthed.
The blinds shut and the eyes disappeared.
“What is happening around here?” I whispered to myself. Demon dad and mannequin mom. Perhaps Amelia really did run away.
In my periphery, something caught my eye. A blooming lemon tree branch was hanging over the backyard fence.
“Liv,” Camry hissed, “I don’t feel like dying tonight. Let’s get off crazy dad’s property.”
“Hold on.” I picked a lemon from the tree. It was an ugly lemon. Small, squishy, covered in yellow warts and...morphed. I run my thumb along the bumpy skin and thought about the contaminated soil and the ugly apple thrown through the window. Wondering what other fruit trees they had back there.
I jumped, catching a fleeting glimpse of the backyard. Trees lined the fence, but I couldn’t tell what kind. Another jump and it was still not clear.
Why do I have to be so short!
“Liv,” Camry was at my ear, “we need to leave.”
No, I needed to see what was over the fence, but to do so I needed at least another foot or... “Go get Oliver.”
“No,” she said in a furious whisper, red-faced and shaking. I had the sinking suspicion that I may have missed something.
“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered.
“You’re so quick to replace me with your new boyfriend. Who gives a crap about the stupid stepsister.” She air quoted “step.” “Have you noticed that I introduce you as my sister and you make sure everyone knows that I’m your ‘step’ sister.” She air quoted “step” again, and I didn’t know why. She was my stepsister. “You really think the only reason I asked to help with the podcast was because I like podcasts? I don’t give a crap about stupid podcasts. I only started listening to them because the big sister I always wanted but never paid attention to me did. You know Austin for ten minutes and now he’s working on the show. So is Oliver. You’ll make them producers and I’ll still be the stepsister.” She blinked away a tear. “You don’t care about me and you never have. So, fine, replace me with your stupid boyfriend.”