by Ed Helenski
On Friday I was paid another visit by Reggie. He was very different from the confrontational Reggie of two days before. In the interim since Wednesday he apparently had decided that my story was accurate, or that was the impression he gave.
“I want to share some things with you, Tom, and see if you might have a notion or two of your own. I know you covered a lot of crime in your day, maybe have seen a bit more than we are used to here. I assume you will keep what I tell you now in confidence. Off the record as they say.” he said to me as he sat in the chair opposite my desk.
“Off the record huh? Does this mean you are no longer counting me among your suspects?” I asked just a little bit icily.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he replied, “I fell into the small town trap, always blame the newcomer. Truth is I don’t think you had anything to do with this. I wish I did in some ways, but you hear me out and you will know what I mean.”
“Fair enough. Want some coffee?” I asked him and sat back.
“Naw.” He said, then looked around. “Would you mind if I smoked?” I shook my head, and he took a battered pack of generic kings from his pocket and lit one with a book match. “Now everyone in town knows Sioban had been letting old Mac Taylor dip his wick. I knew it, or at least was pretty sure, but she’s sixteen, which more or less makes it her daddy’s business, and he didn’t seem to keep her on too tight a leash. Maybe it went on when she was younger, I suspect it might have, but things like that have a way of happening, and if the girl’s like Sioban there ain’t much point making trouble for the man. I expect a few others around have been with her too, some names have turned up, but nothing recent. She’s not likely to have run away, although of course her name is out there now as a possible. But she had things pretty much how she liked ‘em here, like I say she wasn’t on much of a leash. No boy she ran off with, no out of town lover anyone knows. But I expect you figured that much out yourself and that’s a fact.”
In truth I had surmised much the same things as he had. I nodded. He was going somewhere with all this, I wanted him to lead.
He leaned back and took a long drag off his smoke. The ash was getting precarious, and I hunted up a pop can for him to use as an ashtray. He continued, “When I took this job five years ago I inherited a lot of things. One of them was a whole filing cabinet of reports and cases. The other was a notebook Elmer Tatum used to keep of ongoing cases. He fancied himself some kind of sleuth and that’s a fact. There was one open case from the year before. He had worried it to death, but had never gotten any good idea on it. I don't want this brought up again, no sense stirring up the past.”
He finished his smoke and ground out the butt on the top of the can, then pushed it through the hole. He looked at me, perhaps debating if I could be trusted or not. I said nothing, not wanting to tip the scales against me. I had not had a lot of luck opening my mouth last time. Finally he went on.
“In ’94, in May to be exact, a young girl ran away from town. Well, at first they thought she ran away, but her sister said that wasn’t the case. She never did turn up anywhere, which doesn’t mean much one way or another. But Elmer had it in his head that maybe she never left town at all. That something might have befell her here. He wrote down some things, said he had someone in mind, but wasn’t gonna say anything unless he was damned sure. Course he died that year, in August, heart attack and that’s a fact.”
I finally felt I had to speak. “Are you thinking there is some connection? Six years is a long time, Reggie.”
“Yeah, I know. I pray to God that you are right on that one. But you see what I mean. Why it gave me a start, and why I was hoping for some easy explanation. Anyway, Mac honestly seems to know nothing. If anything, he is grieving worse than Michael and you seen him wandering around town like a wraith. So I really have nothing much to go on at this point. You got any thoughts?” He extracted another smoke and lit it.
I still wasn’t sure what he wanted from me, but I decided to just wing it. “I think if you are trying to make a connection between the two girls it’s pretty thin, unless you have more to go on that you aren’t mentioning. I agree with you that there is no obvious reason for her to have run away, but I also don’t presume to know her mind. Lots of things stay secret. Beyond that I haven’t a clue, except that when she was here she didn’t act like someone about to take a powder.”
“Uh, huh. I think that about sums it up.”
“If this were a made for TV movie I would say about now you would be suggesting some drifter from far away just blew through and took her.”
“Well the thought has crossed my mind, and that’s a fact.” Reggie crushed out his second smoke and sat, not speaking for a while. Finally he rose to go. “If you think of anything else, you give me a call. Or stop on by. I’ll be making a pot of chili soon.” He made his way to the door.
When he was about to go out I called to him. “Reggie. This is just my reporter’s curiosity, but do you think I might get a look at that notebook?”
He looked me up and down for a moment, then shook his head. “I think I better hang on to that for the time being. Maybe a little later on I’ll let you have a peek.” He started to open the door a second time.
“One other thing.” I waited till he turned around, looking expectantly. “Who was the girl that went missing in ’94?”
He gave me a funny look. “Why I thought you would have known. That was little Jenny Jacobs. Sarah’s little sister.” And with that he was gone.
Jenny Jacobs. So there was yet another dark area to Sarah Jacob’s life. Husband gone, sister gone, left to fend for herself and raise her children. I began to feel a good deal of sympathy for Sarah, and a little guilty at my behavior. I wished there were some way to convey four-year-old condolences but under the present circumstances that was not to be.
I had dinner with my dad and Mrs. Gorley on Saturday. I had wanted to cancel and go out with Maggie, but she had insisted that I meet Cora. “You should know the woman your dad is keeping company with” she had said, which was a polite small town way of saying sleeping with. I really didn’t want to think about that. Maggie said she would make me a great big breakfast after church, and I would have to make do with that.
The dinner went fine. Cora lives next to my dad on Burdock, in a little white house. Dad was as uncommunicative as ever, and said little other than to comment on the food. When Cora congratulated me on starting a paper he said “At least this week you didn’t mortally offend anyone” and that was it. I didn’t try to defend myself, that had gotten a bit old. We had sausages (not the Jimmy Dean kind, good German ones), potato pancakes, cabbage and for dessert apple pie. It was all very good, although not exactly my favorite sort of cuisine. I had certainly had enough meals like this growing up. After dinner Dad said he was going to get a six pack and would be right back. That left Cora and I clearing the table. She didn’t mind the help, it was clear she had some arthritis in her hands.
When the dishes had been stacked she asked me to join her in the living room. “Burley will be gone for a bit. I never knew him to go get a six pack without stopping to tip one with Eustice.”
“Eustice?”
“Eustice Hurley. He has a dedicated stool down to Shickley’s”
“Oh. I always thought his first name was Old Man”
She laughed at my joke. “That he is. Near as I can figure he is 101 or 102, he won’t say. Still drinks a fair amount of whiskey for a man that age though. In fact, I wanted to talk to you for a minute about him. Him and his son. Do you know the story?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I know there was something that happened, some estrangement between them. Back in the fifties I guess. I always wondered if it was a woman or something.”
“Was something all right. Wasn’t a woman. Eustice was 51 or so back then, this was in 1954. And Jason was only 21. Eustice was never one to rob the cradle, so it wasn’t likely to be that kind of trouble. You ever wonder where Eustice got his money?”
/> “I never knew he had any, to tell you the truth. He was retired when I was a boy, I figured he had some pension or something. He lives over Shickley’s, not exactly the high rent district.”
“Eustice Hurley is probably the wealthiest man in town. He don’t spend it, that’s for sure, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t got it. And he doesn’t give his son a penny of it. I think Jason always figured he would just get the money when his dad passed. Problem is, Eustice is still here.”
I sat back in the cushions of the sofa and glanced at the door. If we didn’t move things along Dad would be back, and I somehow doubted the story would be told in the same way with him here. “So what DID happen back in 1954?”
Cora smiled at me. “Got a little of your dad’s impatience, I see. I’m getting to it. Eustice had gotten lucky back in the depression. He had a bit of money from his own Daddy’s saw mill, and when land started to go for fire sale prices, well he bought and bought and bought till he didn’t have a cent left. But he had one heck of a lot of land. Thousands of acres all over the middle of the state. When things got better he sold some of it off, and after that, he would sell off a parcel now and then when he needed cash. I suspect his money was behind a lot of businesses in the area right through the Second World War.” Cora paused and looked at me. “But that was before your time”.
I laughed. “Yeah, I guess it was, just a bit.”
“Eustice gave each of his kids a parcel when they turned 21. His favorite was the youngest, Jason. His wife had died in childbirth, and so Jason was all he had left of her. He gave Jason the best parcel of all, a great big stretch in the Allegheny Mountains, near the National Forest. The sort of land folks from the city pay top dollar to build their ‘camps’ on. Of course most of their camps make our houses look like they need a half moon on the door, but that’s another story.”
She sat up a bit straighter, and eyed me closely. Apparently she was getting to the meat of the story. “Eustice expected Jason to do like the other kids, subdivide and improve the land, then sell off some lots to get a nest egg going. The others had all kept a good portion for a rainy day, a couple built on the best of it. But Jason never was much for waiting back in those days. He struck a deal with Central Coal and Gas. He “leased” them the land. They were going to do some new kind of mining there for coal, and when they were done they would leave it all just as they found it. When Eustice found out he was furious. Strip mining was what they were talking about. When they were done, there wasn’t a tree to be seen, and the land was nigh on to worthless. Jason had long since spent the little money he got, and never was able to sell the land for much. And since that time, Eustice has never spoken to Jason.”
I waited for more, but that seemed to be it. “Well, uh, thanks Cora. I always wondered what happened between them.” She kept looking at me.
“I had a point in telling that to you. I guess I had best spell it out. Don’t let business put a rift between you and your Dad. Eustice and Jason still might patch things up, but not everyone gets to wait fifty years to do it. I know Burley didn’t want you coming back here and starting a paper. He has his reasons. Don’t let them be a reason to lose each other.” The door opened at that moment, and my dad stepped in, carrying a brown paper bag. Cora and I looked like the cats that had swallowed the canaries. Dad eyed us narrowly, then offered me a can of beer without comment.
The rest of the evening passed in quiet, if somewhat strained, watching of the television. By the time nine o’clock rolled around I was ready to go. I thanked Cora for the wonderful meal and bid my dad goodnight. On the way home I gulped in the cold night air, and felt the tension flow out of my body. For some reason being with my dad made me tense. I was just about to step up to my front door when a motion from the bushes caught my eye. I turned just in time to see a figure swing at me. A fist connected with my nose, and I went down.
Once on the ground a series of kicks landed on my ribs and face. I held my arms up, trying to protect myself when my assailant landed on me, and began pummeling me with his fists. Now that the surprise was over I began to fight back, and discovered he was not all that strong. I got hold of his arms and held them away from me. It was Michael Mistick. He leaned down and spat in my face. “Fucking degenerate!” he said to me. “Bastard. What did you do? What did you do?”
Before I could respond Michael was roughly pulled from me. Standing over me, holding him with one meaty hand, stood Reggie. “Mike’s had a bit too much to drink, Tom. I think maybe I should help him find his way home. You ok?”
I slowly got up, testing my body. Nothing seemed broken. “Yeah, I think I am. If anything seems broken I guess I can make my way over to Tastler on my own.” I looked at Michael, who now lolled almost unconsciously in Reggie’s grip.
“Man hears things in a small town. Maybe he ain’t thinking too clear. No need for a lot of trouble over this, is there?” Reggie looked at me appraisingly. I decided I was being put to the test.
“No. No need for trouble. Best to just get him home, I guess”. From the look on Reggie’s face I had passed the test. I went inside, briefly considered calling Maggie for some sympathy, and decided it would just worry her. I took a hot shower, and went to bed. I was going to feel it in the morning.
I called Maggie the next morning and explained that I wouldn’t make it to church, but would still love to come over for brunch. She decided we could both play hooky, and so I walked on over around ten.
Maggie greeted me at the door in a lovely grey sweater and pants outfit that fit her nicely indeed. She gasped when she saw me, and kissed my face several times gently, whispering “Your poor face.”
For breakfast Maggie had pulled out all the stops, making fresh squeezed OJ, a fruit salad, what amazingly turned out to be homemade croissants, muffins, crisp bacon, and mushroom omelets.
“I had no idea you were such a gourmet chef. You are trying to spoil me aren’t you?”
“Well,” she said, “I didn’t plan on quite this much, but after you called I thought you could use a NICE surprise.”
“It was very nice. A fella could really get used to this.”
She eyed me with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t get too comfy. Next on the agenda is a nice long walk.”
I moaned. “I’m sore. I’m full. I’m not ready for that cold air.”
She pulled me up from the chair. “It’s sunny, and not as cold as all that. You are full, which is why we need some exercise. And a walk is just what you need to loosen you up after that, uh, well, for being sore.” Apparently she didn’t want to say after the thrashing I had gotten.
We spent the early afternoon walking the streets of the town, talking about the houses, the residents, and the history we knew. Along Langley was Sarah Jacobs’ unkempt frame house. I mentioned Jenny Jacobs’ disappearance, and Maggie was surprised to have never heard the story. Next was Anna Sorenson’s neat little white cottage. Tastler had moved into what was once know as the Scorby place on the corner of Squid, a nice old brick place that had far too many rooms for one man. Next to my place Maggie pointed out the vacant house that belonged to the Terwillow family. The last of the sisters had died a couple years ago.
“Amy Vickers has had no luck finding a buyer for that place. No central heat, ancient plumbing. Even at a bargain folks would just as soon buy ready to live in.”
“That’s where Tommy Slicdale lives” I said, pointing across the street to the little blue cape cod.
Maggie giggled. “Want to hear something funny?”
I looked at her, and the laughter on her face made her beautiful. Not that she wasn’t lovely to begin with, but hers was a face that loved laughter. “Go ahead” I said, “I would love to hear something funny.”
“When I first came to live here I got a package that needed to be signed for. Tommy Slicdale brought it over one day when I was home. While I was signing for it he starts to go on about how he understands how lonesome it can be for a single gal in a new town. How I might need some com
pany. Kept edging his way into the door. Before I knew it he had dropped his bag and was trying to kiss me.”
“Oh my” I said, trying to keep it light, but surprised at the pangs of jealousy I felt. “What did you do?”
“That’s the funny part. He was so serious, thinking he was suave and all. So I just reached down and grabbed him by the package. He was so surprised he just stood there with his mouth open. Then I let go and told him to come back when he had a package worth delivering.” She laughed. “Now he just leaves packages on the porch. I think I offended his manhood”
Despite the flip-flops my stomach was doing imagining her grabbing him there, I had to admit it was funny. Maggie put her arm around me and we made our way along. We looked at the proposed storefront for the library, and some of the other places along Cleveland, including the white two storey that was now the Fairchild place. Fortunately there was no sign of Rhonda. We walked over Burdock, past the house I grew up in, now looking empty with only my dad to fill it. We passed Reggie’s and Bobby’s houses, and skipped Vine, instead heading down towards the school and firehouse. We passed Steve’s Pizza, but there was no knot of teens our front, Sioban’s disappearance had put the kids in town on short leashes. By the time we had made the loop of the town and gotten back to Maggie’s place it was late in the afternoon.
Standing on her porch, I felt I had to follow my impulses. I reached out and embraced her, my mouth finding hers. To my delight she kissed back, eager and tasting of promise. After a few moments, in which our tongues made each other’s acquaintance, we broke apart. “Maggie,” I said, a little out of breath, “I think I might be falling for you.”
She looked up at me and smiled. Pulling herself close against me she put her head on my chest. “Good” she said, “My spell must be working. I like you too, Tom.” With a fierce hug she pulled from me and opened the door. “Call me later, ok?”