Mistletoe & Missing Persons

by Teresa Michael

  Return to the Scene of the Crime

  When Libby and Steve returned to the gallery, the crime scene techs were carefully moving the tarp-wrapped remains to a body bag for transport to the county morgue. Jack Seiler was speaking with one of the techs, a tall woman with a camera in her hands, the strap around her neck. She gestured toward the area where the tarp had been securely built into the wall and then showed him a picture on her camera. Once the techs removed the body, she returned to the location and took more photos of what was, in effect, a tomb.

  Jack joined Steve and Libby near the gallery door, where they were watching the activity.

  “Any luck with Ida’s photos?” Jack asked.

  “This is the girl she thinks was in that wall.” Libby handed Jack the photograph of Annaliese standing in front of the Hobson house.

  “Pretty girl,” Jack said. “Anything else?”

  “Ida was a Rockette,” Libby said.

  “Seriously?”

  Libby nodded. “Skimpy costume, feather headdress. The works.”

  “Wow!” He thought for a minute. “Knowing Ida Sullivan, I’m not surprised.”

  Steve stood, hands on hips, off to the side, watching the two crime scene technicians zip up the black body bag. He walked to the back of the room and stood at the door to the parking lot where the ME’s van was parked, back doors open. He held the door as the two crime scene techs wheeled out the gurney and loaded it into the van. The photographer was still snapping photos, inside the framed-in space as well as along the wall that Steve and Libby had pulled down.

  “When can I start working on my gallery again?” Steve asked.

  “It shouldn’t be long,” Jack said. “It looks like the crime was more than forty years ago, but we still have to wait for the ME to examine the remains.”

  “Cause of death should be easy,” Libby said. “Bullet hole to the head.”

  “They’ll have to try to identify her,” Jack said.

  “Will that picture we got from Mrs. Sullivan help at all?” Steve asked.

  “Yes, it should. Hopefully, we can get some DNA from the bones, too,” Jack said.

  “And if there’s some living relative, perhaps that would help identify if she is Annaliese Hobson,” Libby added.

  “I’m never going to make that gallery opening,” Steve said, hanging his head.

  “If they lift the crime scene soon, I’m sure we can get this place ready for New Year’s Eve,” Libby said. “I’ll be glad to help you out. I’ve been helping Rachel get her shop ready, and now I can help you.”

  “New Year’s Eve?” Jack asked. “That’s only about five weeks away.”

  “I know, and now with the gallery being a crime scene, I don’t know how we can make it.”

  “Don’t give up,” Libby said.

  “Hey, Seiler. I’m done here.” The crime scene photographer walked towards them, her pack slung onto her back. The woman was almost as tall as Jack. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun.

  “Thanks, Ellen.” He introduced Libby and Steve to Ellen Sanders.

  “Did I hear you say that you’re going to open a gallery in here?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes, I was hoping to do a launch on New Year’s Eve, but now, I’m not so sure.” Steve shook his head and surveyed the room. “There’s a lot to do and now…all this.”

  “Let me know when you have your launch,” Ellen said. “I’ll be there.”

  • • •

  After leaving Steve with instructions not to touch, move or remove anything on the first floor, Libby and Jack started walking towards the café.

  “Are you hungry?” Libby asked. “I can fix you something at the café or my house.”

  “Not right now, maybe later. First, I’d like to stop by Ida’s house.”

  As they crossed Mariposa Boulevard and headed up North Shell Street towards Ida’s house, Libby asked, “What was that with the photographer?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Steve and I arrived, you and she were in a discussion, and she was pointing towards the remains. Then, she showed you a picture on her camera.”

  “We were discussing the placement and condition of the remains.”

  “The way the body was stuffed into that framed-in section of the false wall seemed planned out, not spontaneous or in the moment,” Libby said.

  “It’s likely that she was killed someplace else and brought here after she was mostly decomposed.”

  “Now that I think about it, in this heat and humidity, she would have been a soupy, smelly mess if she were entombed in that wall…uh…fresh,” Libby said, shuddering at the thought.

  “Ida is the only person I know who lived here forty years ago,” Jack said as they turned toward Ida’s house. “Perhaps she can remember what was going on with that building before Eleanor bought it.”

  • • •

  Ida lived across the street from Libby in the Mariposa Beach neighborhood originally platted in 1899, at least that’s what was on the historical marker at the corner of North Shell and Palmetto Street. Many of the homes were remodeled tourist cottages. Ida’s was one of the larger houses on the block. It was painted pale pink with white shutters and trim. Pink was Ida’s favorite color.

  Zsa Zsa greeted their knock with a happy bark. She was excited to see Jack and leapt at the sight of him. The dog was crazy about him, her little stump of a tail wagging with joy.

  Ida was still hard at work, sorting through pictures. She tossed anything she thought relevant to the town, the buildings or the Hobson family in a separate box and stacked other photos on the table in neat little piles.

  “Ida, you sure have a lot of pictures,” Jack remarked, scratching Zsa Zsa’s ears.

  “I like pictures,” she said with a little smile. “There’s seventy-five years’ worth of memories in these boxes.”

  “Is this Eleanor’s building?” Libby asked. The picture in her hand was of the block that currently included The Village Dress Shoppe, Eleanor’s Gifts, now The Devereaux Gallery, and the Surf Shop.

  “It was Hobson’s Five and Dime back then. They bought both buildings and knocked out the wall to include Eleanor’s shop and that beach store. They closed the wall back up when Hobson closed the Five and Dime and opened the supermarket back in the late seventies.”

  “So, the building was empty before Eleanor bought it?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, it was empty for quite a while. Albert and his brother, Harry, owned that whole block. Harry had a real estate office at the far end where that overpriced dress shop is now. There’s no apartment above that end building, just a storage attic.”

  “Do you remember when Annaliese disappeared?” Jack asked.

  “I surely do,” Ida said. “It was right around Christmas 1978.”

  “After that party, you were telling Steve and me about?” Libby asked.

  Ida nodded and pushed a stack of photos towards Libby. “Here are some pictures we took at that party. Sid had just bought me a camera for Christmas, and we were trying it out that day.”

  They sorted through color photos of the holiday lawn party. Picnic tables were set up under a striped tent with a bar across from it on the side lawn of the house. Tables and chairs were scattered about the yard, and servers carried trays of drinks and food. In one picture facing the road, Libby thought she saw a sliver of beach in the background.

  Ida held up a photo of a woman in a robin’s egg-blue chiffon dress, gathered at the waist and bust with short cap sleeves. “Sid was trying out the camera and was asking me to pose and then he’d change the settings, make a note, and then take another picture.” Ida pushed forward six more photos of herself in various locations.

  “Gorgeous dress,” Libby said.

  “Mrs. Sullivan, you were a knock out,” Jack said. “Sid was a lucky man to have you on his arm.”

  She laughed and held up another photo. “This is Albert Hobson.”

  In the picture, Ida’s outstretched hand held a
drink as did the man with his arm around her waist. He wore dark trousers, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his necktie loosened. Libby estimated he was in his late fifties.

  “He’s standing a little close there,” Jack said, taking the photo from her hand. “What did Sid think about that?”

  “There were rumors about Hobson even before Mary Alice died. You know, womanizing.” Ida raised her eyebrows and looked from Jack to Libby. “There were even more rumors after she died. Sid knew he didn’t have to worry about me, besides, I was probably too old for Albert’s tastes. He liked them younger, if you catch my drift.”

  Jack handed the photo to Libby and said, “Ida, you said that Mr. Hobson and Annaliese argued that day.”

  “Yes, soon after Sid took this picture.” Ida retrieved the picture of her and Hobson from Libby and picked up a magnifying glass from the table. “Look in the background. I think that is Annaliese and the boy I was telling you about.”

  Libby took the glass and the photo. Jack stood, and with his hand on her shoulder, he leaned over her to see the picture. “The girl in the white dress or this one? There appears to be someone else in the corner of the photo, but it’s cut off.”

  “Yes, the girl in the dress,” Ida said. She pointed at the picture. “They are heading towards the barn. She’s in her party dress because her father ordered her to make an appearance, but her horse was sick, and she would have rather been in the barn. Right after this picture, Albert caught a glance of her heading towards the barn in that dress, and he took out after her.”

  “What happened?” Libby asked.

  “I followed him, and Sid followed me. We could hear Albert hollering and yelling at her before we even got to the barn. When I reached the door, he had a horsewhip in his hands, and the vet had a hold of him so that he wouldn’t hit the boy or Annaliese.”

  “No wonder she wanted to run away,” Libby said.

  “She was crying, and the boy was trying to protect her by pushing her behind him. It was an awful scene. The vet told the boy to leave, and he did. Annaliese ran into the house. Albert’s sister, Harriet, and I went to check on her awhile later. She was in her room crying, so we just let her be.”

  “What was it about the boy that had her father ready to horsewhip him?” Jack asked, standing up and walking around the small dining area.

  “Albert didn’t think the boy was good enough for his daughter. The boy worked with the horse trainer at the circus and the vet.”

  “Are you sure that Annaliese and the boy were romantically involved?” Jack asked.

  “Well, other than that day, I only saw them together maybe one other time that I remember. It was just a few days after that party, and I was walking Zsa Zsa The First down along the beach road.”

  At the mention of her name, Zsa Zsa lifted her head. Seeing nothing, she laid back down in her place at Jack’s feet.

  Ida continued, “I saw them ahead of me walking towards the beach. They were holding hands, so I figured they were going steady or something. I walked on over to the beach, and I turned up Mariposa Boulevard. I guess that was the last time I saw her, that is…until today.”

  “Did you ever see the boy again?” Jack asked.

  “Nope, never did. I guess that’s why it was so easy to believe that they ran off together.” Ida leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “This breaks my heart.”

  “Ida, I’m so sorry,” Libby said, placing her hands over Ida’s.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions now. It may not even be her,” Jack said, returning to his seat at the table. “I think we are going to need DNA to verify her identity.”

  “I would imagine there are some cousins around here. His brother had four kids, and I’m sure they’ve married and had kids,” Ida said.

  She shuffled through the photos and came up with a picture of a man who looked a bit younger than Hobson with a woman and four children who appeared to range from about six to sixteen. “This is his brother, Harry, and his family. I can’t remember his wife’s name, maybe Joan or Jeanne. She could be a real snake in the grass.”

  Ida made a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound, and Libby stifled a giggle.

  “I think I heard that Harry died a few years back.”

  “You mentioned a sister. Do you know where she is?” Jack asked.

  “The last I heard she was still over on the east coast, maybe Boca or Lauderdale,” Ida said. “I’ll look around. I might have an old Christmas card with an address on it.”

  “That would be great.” Jack thumbed through his notebook, then returned it to his jacket pocket. He felt the picture that Libby had given him earlier. He pulled the picture of Annaliese out of his pocket. “Thanks for this picture.” He started to return it to his pocket, but stopped and examined it closer. “You know, I’ve been to this house.”

  “When was that?” Libby asked.

  “I was about fourteen or fifteen. I went there with my dad for an auction of some of their equipment. Growing up on a ranch, we were always looking for a good deal at auctions and sales. If I remember correctly, they were selling off a parcel of land that included some of the outbuildings.”

  “His whole estate was sold off, piece by piece,” Ida said.

  Jack returned the photograph and his notebook to his jacket pocket. “I think we’ve bothered you enough this afternoon. If I have any more questions, I’ll call or come by again. All right?”

  “Come by anytime. Zsa Zsa likes you.” Zsa Zsa barked in agreement.

  Libby picked up a photo of Ida in the blue dress standing in front of a palm tree with Christmas lights wrapped around it and a man dressed in a Santa Claus suit. “I just love that dress.”

  “I did, too,” Ida said. “I was about thirty-five or thirty-six that year.”

  “I just realized the age you were then is the same age we are now,” Jack said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Libby said. “I won’t be thirty-five for six months.”

  • • •

  Once outside, Jack took her hand. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “All the way across the street.” Libby loved the way he slipped his hand around hers, like a mitten on a chilly day.

  He was silent as they walked the short distance to her home, built in the 1940s by a boat captain and renovated into a cozy beach cottage by the previous owners. She unlocked the back door, and they were barely inside the kitchen before he pulled her to him, backed her up against the door and kissed her hard.

  Breathless, he said, “I have wanted to kiss you all afternoon. I find it hard to keep my hands off you, even while I’m working.”

  “It’s hard to be professional when the thoughts running through my mind involve throwing myself into your arms,” she said. “Probably doesn’t do much for your tough guy detective look, either.”

  He kissed her again, his hands in her hair. She slipped her hands under his shirt and as she skipped her fingers up his back, she felt his body slightly shudder.

  “As much as I would love to stay,” he said, kissing her again, “I need to get back to the department to file this report and see what’s going on there.”

  “You are such a tease. You come over to my house, kiss me all over and then leave.” She giggled as he kissed her neck. “This is one of the reasons I had that rule about dating cops, which I have so soundly broken with you.”

  “And I am so grateful you did. I’ll call you later.” He gave her a devilish grin. “And I will make it up to you, I promise.”

  “I’ll walk with you, ok? I should stop in the cafe. I’ve been shirking my duties this afternoon working your case.”

  “You loved it, and you know it,” he said.

  He was right, she thought. She did enjoy working a case. She missed that part of her old life more than she could admit, even to herself.

  He tucked in his shirt and finger-combed his black hair. Then kissed her one more time before opening the door.

  Libby followed him outside, locked t
he door, then turned to him and said, “I hope we can get DNA evidence to find out if that is Annaliese Hobson.”

  “We’ll be fortunate to get anything usable from that skeleton. Maybe from the bone marrow. They’ve actually gotten DNA from skeletons that are much older than forty years,” Jack said. “So, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “What about from the hair?” Libby asked. “There were strands of long blonde hair on what was left of the scalp.”

  “Perhaps, if there are follicles left. But don’t get your hopes up.”

  He slipped his hand into hers as they walked across the street and turned towards the café.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee for the road?” she asked. “Or a sandwich? You haven’t eaten anything. You must be starving.”

  “How about a sandwich to go,” he said. “And throw in some cookies. I’ll share them with Sam, if he’s still in the office.”

  Sam Stacey was Jack’s partner.

  “Where is Sam?” she asked.

  “He’s running down some leads on another case. He said he thought I could handle a skeleton in a wall all by myself.”

  Chapter 6

  Time Line

  Later that evening, Libby sat at her desk, laptop open, a blank legal pad beside her and a cold Corona in her hand. She had a copy of Ida’s photograph of Annaliese. That afternoon, while Steve was eating his sandwich, she had taken the picture into her office and made a photocopy.

  She set the beer on the table and picked up the red stress ball prescribed as rehab for her injured hand. She examined the scar in her palm. With her left forefinger, she traced the bumpy scar where the surgeon had repaired the tendons and stitched up the knife wound. She transferred the ball to her right hand and closed her healing fingers around the ball, knowing that, though she still experienced some stiffness, she was fortunate to have regained a good deal of functionality. She began to squeeze the ball as she’d found that the absentminded squeezing motion also helped her think.

  She was puzzled by the time line. How could a dead body be in a wall for forty years without being detected? In the beginning, there must have been some odor, even if the body was mostly decomposed before being placed inside the wall. Although the real estate office, now the dress shop, was a separate but conjoined building, they must have smelled something.