“Jack, trust me, don’t tell her what’s in the report.”
Chapter 7
Make the Call
Steve called later that afternoon and said that, according to the deed, Eleanor closed on her store November 1, 1979, and the grand opening was February 14, 1980 with a Valentine’s Day theme. He found some old flyers in with his aunt’s papers advertising the big event. He also found blueprints and construction plans that showed the renovations were completed on the building before Eleanor took possession.
Libby filled-in the dates on her time line. Annaliese disappeared in December 1978, her father closed the Five and Dime in late 1977, and Eleanor opened the store in 1980. That meant the building was empty about fourteen months, more than enough time to hide a body and let nature take its course, so to speak, in the decomposition part.
Libby looked through her phone until she found the number she needed. She started to tap the call button, but instead, went to the refrigerator and opened a Corona. She took a long pull. After a deep breath and only a moment’s hesitation, she tapped the call icon.
“Red, how ya’ doin’?”
“Ray Ban, my man. I’m doing good.” Libby couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Ray Ban sitting in front of his bay of computer monitors, answering the phone, sunglasses on regardless of the lighting.
“Good to hear your voice,” he said.
Libby met Ray Ban at the University of Cincinnati when they were undergrads. He had a gift for locating information. As far as his methods, Libby believed in the ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ philosophy of life. It gave her plausible deniability, at least that’s what she told herself.
“Back at you, my friend.”
“What can I do for you, Red?”
He was the only person who got away with calling her ‘Red’ and she let him do it for old time’s sake.
“I need you to do some background research for me. The family name is Hobson. The man’s name is Albert. Brother is Harry. Annaliese Hobson is Albert’s daughter. Everybody thought she ran away from home, except a body turned up in a building that used to be owned by her father.”
“So, you want to know if the girl really ran away or perhaps if she didn’t get very far away from home?”
“Yes. I would also like you to check into the father, the brother, and there was also a sister named Harriet, maybe from Boca Raton or Fort Lauderdale.”
“Do you want financials, too?” he asked. “It might take a little longer if you need that.”
“Yes, please include financials.” The possibility of Albert or Harry in financial trouble had crossed her mind a couple of times.
“What’s the time line?” he asked. “How recent is this?”
“Not very. It was in 1978. For the missing person check, I think December 1978 until January 1980. While you’re at it, check for all blonde, seventeen to twenty-four-year-olds who disappeared during this time frame.”
“1978?” He snorted. “Are you kidding me? That’s forty years ago.”
“I know. I did the math. But, the building has been occupied since February 1980, after being empty for more than a year. We know when Annaliese disappeared, but if it’s not her, then it’s someone else who got themselves stashed into the wall.”
“Jeez, Red.” Ray Ban paused, and she heard him sigh. “What kind of place are you living in? I’ve talked to you more in the last three months than I did in the whole three years prior.”
He had provided Libby with information about the smuggling and money laundering scheme she had uncovered the previous August.
“It’s actually a very nice little beach town.”
She heard a harrumph before he said, “I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead. She took another long drink of beer.
Chapter 8
Mid-morning, Thanksgiving Day, Mariposa Beach
Scones, Pies and a Drive-by
“Good morning.” Ida opened her door to Libby, who had a paper bag and two cups of coffee in a carrier.
“I brought your favorite orange scones and a mocha latte.”
“Thank you. Come in.”
The living room was one large room that included the dining area opposite the front door. Ida’s walker was tucked in by the sofa near the front door. She could maneuver well throughout her home without it.
Libby noticed the photos were pushed to one side of the table, leaving room for one place setting.
“Push those aside and make room to sit down. I’ll get some plates.”
Libby gently moved three stacks of photos, trying to keep them just as Ida had stacked them. Ida returned with plates, and Libby placed the coffee in front of her.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Libby said, holding up her cup.
Ida touched her cup to Libby’s and nodded. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She took a sip. “Are you going to Julia’s today?”
“Yes, I’m responsible for the pies. Well, not directly responsible. Louisa baked them.”
“I appreciate the scones.” Ida took a bite and another sip of coffee.
“How are you doing?” Libby asked.
“All right. I’ve been sorting through all this stuff.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Perhaps.” Ida leaned towards her. “I found an old address book. I’m waiting for some people to call me back.”
“Who did you call?” Libby asked.
Zsa Zsa was sniffing around Ida’s chair, hoping for a crumb. “No, baby girl.”
Zsa Zsa sat to attention. Ida laughed and rubbed behind her ears. “I called some old contacts hoping to find out about the building, rumors about Albert and who he was paying hush money to, who he was fooling around with…anything I could think of to ask.”
“What have you found out?”
“A lot of time has passed, people got married and had kids, and their kids had kids, and we live our lives, and if we’re lucky, we got old.”
“So, nothing specific?”
“I found the name of a contractor in Sid’s address book. The company is still open, but the original owner sold it. He said that Buddy, that’s his name, is still around and lives on a boat in the marina. He’s going to get his number and call me back.”
“That’s great news! Do you think this guy might be the contractor who worked on that building?”
“Perhaps. I hope he calls back tomorrow.”
“Ida, you’re becoming quite the little investigator.”
Ida laughed so loud Zsa Zsa jumped up from her spot on the sofa and started barking. “Zsa Zsa, shhh.”
“You said that the family home was sold after Albert died.”
“The house sold at auction about twenty years ago after Albert died. Albert was always in debt. Sell one thing to finance another. Good thing the Board ran the company.” She took a sip of coffee, then continued, “Sid stayed on with the company after Albert died, but he didn’t last too long after that, my Sid. He told me stuff that he probably shouldn’t have, but I never told anyone what we talked about. You know, what happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom.”
“What did Sid tell you?” Libby asked with a smile.
“Albert sold the hotel to finance the supermarket. Over the years, he sold most of the land, too. That house used to sit on more than fifty acres, but by the time he died, all the land he had left was the plot the house sits on today.”
“What about the brother and sister? Did they have any stake in the house and grounds?”
“I think Albert must have bought them out when his mother died. Sid told me that Harry hated that house and never would have wanted to live there anyway.”
“Do you know who bought the house?” Libby asked.
“No, but they’ve fixed it up nice.”
The well-landscaped, two-story brick house stood off the beach road behind an ornate, black iron gate.
“I’m going to see if I can look it up in the court records. Find out if the people who bought the house had any
connection to Albert and the family.” Libby finished her coffee, then picked up the plates and took them into the kitchen.
“Thanks, again for the coffee and scones,” Ida said.
“Do you want to come to Julia’s for dinner?” Libby asked. “My mother is in town, and I know she’d love to meet you.”
“Thank you, but no. Etta and I are going to The Jetty for their Thanksgiving Day special dinner. We’re going to do the Uber. Etta has it on her phone.”
The Jetty was the fanciest restaurant in town.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Are you going to see Jack?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. Jack wants to see his father, but he’s also on-call today.”
“Hopefully, no one gets shot, stabbed, burglared, assaulted, or any other manner of mayhem that would call him out.” Ida stood and walked with Libby to the front door.
“I hope you and Etta have a wonderful dinner and Uber adventure.”
• • •
An hour later, Libby pulled out of her driveway, pumpkin, apple and chocolate meringue pies safely enclosed within carriers on the floorboard. Instead of turning left to take the most direct route, she decided to turn right and take the two-lane beach road past the old Hobson House. Before leaving, she’d done a quick computer search of the online county property records but didn’t have much luck. Once she was sure she had the correct address, she would call Ray Ban again.
She turned right onto Beach Road. It ran parallel to the Gulf of Mexico until it turned to meet the main road to Sarasota. The old Hobson House sat halfway between Libby’s street and the turn off to the main road.
Libby stopped at a beach pull off just past the house. For a better view, she walked back to stand directly across the street, her back to the water. The double iron gate was at least ten feet tall, and, from where she stood, there appeared to be a call box on the left hand side. Beyond the gate, the driveway wound past the front door and curved around the house to a garage to the back on the left side. Behind her was a wooden walkway down to the beach.
The beach probably belongs to them, too.
Libby unfolded the copy of the photograph of Annaliese standing in front of the house. Forty years ago, there was no fancy iron gate, that Libby could see, and the driveway was crushed shell and not decorative concrete.
A lot changes in forty years. Hell, your life can change from one moment to the next.
She snapped a couple of photos with her phone and returned to her car.
• • •
Libby arrived at Julia’s condo on Longboat Key, a long barrier island off the coast of Sarasota, with pies in hand.
“Mary Beth, I’m so happy to see you.”
Libby’s mother, Helen O’Brien, had a hard time calling Libby by her chosen name. When Libby moved to Florida, she wanted a new start and didn’t want her old life to find her so easily. Mary Elizabeth O’Brien became Libby Marshall. Libby was a nickname her grandmother used to call her, and she’d gotten used to being called by that name. Mary Beth seemed childish, like something shed or put aside with maturity.
Libby returned her mother’s hug. “Mom, I’m so happy you were able to come down.”
David rescued the pies. “Don’t drop the pies.” He kissed Libby’s cheek and placed the pie carriers on the kitchen counter.
“You’re late,” Julia called from the dining room. “We were getting ready to carve the turkey.”
Libby followed Julia’s voice into the open dining and living room. “Sorry. I stopped by Ida’s to check on her.”
“How is she?” Julia asked. “You should have invited her.”
“I did, but she has an Uber adventure with Etta planned for dinner at The Jetty.”
Julia’s condo had an open floor plan that provided a wide angle view of the Gulf of Mexico from her living room and dining room. “What a beautiful day. I never tire of the view from your condo, Aunt Julia.”
“God bless Harry Gordon for purchasing this condo when he retired.”
Harry Gordon was Julia’s second husband, who died several years ago.
“Dinner is on the table,” Helen said.
Once they were seated, Julia said, “I am so thankful to have my whole family here with me to share the bounty of this meal.”
“Let’s eat before we get too mushy,” David said as he stood to carve the turkey.
“The meal is quite bountiful,” Libby said. “You have enough here to serve three times the people.”
“We’ll have plenty of leftovers,” Helen said.
Once their plates were full, there was silence as they all tasted the food and then gave compliments to the cooks.
“Mar…Libby,” Helen began, “How is Ida? You said you stopped to see her on your way here.”
“She’s had a rough week. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t spending Thanksgiving alone.”
“David told us about the discovery of the skeleton in the wall of Eleanor’s old shop,” Julia said between bites of turkey.
“A skeleton?” Helen asked.
“Yes, it has been in that wall for forty years, and Ida thinks she knows who she was.” Libby cut the slice of turkey on her plate. “Dinner is delicious, Julia.”
“And you discovered it?” Helen asked.
“Well, not by myself. I was helping a friend remove the drywall.”
“I think that space will make a great gallery,” David said.
Libby nodded in gratitude for the subject change. “I dropped your name about music for the gallery opening. Steve Devereaux should be giving you a call.” Libby turned to David, who was sitting next to her. “I was thinking about that student of yours, the harpist.”
David taught at the local school for the creative and performing arts.
“That’s an excellent idea! I’ll talk to her on Monday.”
“I was hoping your young man would be here today. I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Helen took a sip of wine and looked over her glass at her daughter.
“He went to see his father out in Arcadia. It’s east of here. He’s a detective with the Sheriff’s Office, and he’s on-call today.”
“That’s the thing about life with a detective. It’s hard to plan something or have a nice dinner with family. Something always comes up.” Helen finished her wine. “You should remember all the dinners your father missed.”
“Jack’s a great guy,” David said.
“He really is a nice guy.” Julia poured wine into Helen’s glass.
“What about that rule you had about not dating policeman and lawyers?” Helen asked.
“I still don’t date lawyers,” Libby quipped.
Chapter 9
Black Friday
Like any other American town, Black Friday was a busy retail day for Mariposa Beach. Libby, Mimi and Mimi’s husband Paul were up early decorating the café and helping the other shopkeepers in the courtyard with decorations in preparation for the traditional Christmas holiday kick-off.
Mimi loved decorating for every holiday, but Christmas was her favorite. She touched off the decorations by hanging a crystal mistletoe ornament over the saloon doors between the kitchen and café as well as over the hallway entry leading to the café’s public restrooms and a few other locations throughout the café. She even shared a few with the other shopkeepers around the courtyard.
The café was busy with holiday shoppers out for breakfast, brunch and lunch – before, during and after shopping. In the courtyard, Libby’s cousin, David, and their friend, Ben, were playing guitars and singing seasonal favorites and audience requests.
Libby crossed the courtyard while the guys were singing “Let it Snow.” She laughed as the weather was a balmy seventy-eight degrees. At the end of the song, the guys burst out laughing, too.
They’ve had too many mimosas already this morning.
Libby opened the door of The Mariposa Mystic to the exotic scent of incense permeating the air of the small shop. There was a display of
candles, incense and incense burners in the front of the store with a bookshelf on the right that held Tarot cards and books on Tarot, spirit animals, self-help and other subjects. The cashier stand was in the middle of the store on the right, and a familiar, crystal mistletoe ornament was attached to the top of a bookshelf behind it.
Rachel was behind the desk, ringing up a customer. Steve was standing in front of the crystals and stones, talking to a young woman with merchandise in her hands.
“Thank you so much.” Rachel handed her customer a bag decorated with fairies.
“What a cute shop,” said the customer, a woman, about forty, wearing shorts and a T-shirt with a palm tree lit with Christmas lights.
“Thank you.”
Libby stepped up to the desk as the customer moved away. “Looks like your opening day is a hit.”
“She’s been busy since the moment she opened,” Steve said. “She hasn’t even stopped for lunch.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here,” Libby said. “I’ve been watching people popping in and out all morning and thought I would ask if you wanted me to bring you a turkey sandwich.”
“That would be wonderful,” Rachel said, as another customer appeared at the desk holding a necklace with a beautiful Larimar stone.
Steve followed Libby out of the store. “If I have half the crowd at my opening that she’s had today, I’ll be a happy man.”
“I saw this morning’s paper,” Libby said. “I think that spread will be good for your launch. A haunted art gallery has a nice ring to it.”
“Kenji tipped off the papers,” Steve said. “I didn’t know he did that until the reporter showed up at my door.”
As they crossed the courtyard, David and Ben were leading the customers sitting at the café’s tables in a rousing rendition of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.”
“Excuse me, are you Steve Devereaux?”
Mistletoe & Missing Persons Page 5