Mistletoe & Missing Persons

by Teresa Michael

  Libby dropped his hands, turned and covered her face with her hands. He put his arms around her, kissed the top of her head and held her tight until she raised her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  He smiled and kissed her temple. “I have been at a cleansing before. My mother did them. Those sessions can bring up lots of emotions and feelings.”

  “I had such a sense of loss. It reminded me of how I felt when I had the miscarriage.”

  “Feel better now?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do. Thank you for being here.” She laid back onto his chest. She felt safe in his arms. This was where she belonged.

  “My pleasure.”

  She sat up. His eyes searched her face. He was still worried, she thought. “All this feeling has made me hungry. Do you want to go to the Veranda Bar for some shrimp?” She stood and went to the mirror behind the sofa.

  “Yes, I’m starving. I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Oh, by the way, there’s one more thing,” she said, watching him in the mirror as she fluffed her hair.

  “What’s that?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “What was an accident?” He met her eyes in the mirror.

  “The girl said that she is at peace with what happened because she knows it was an accident.”

  “So, does she want to solve this case and identify who shot her in the head by accident?”

  “I don’t know. Rachel only called him ‘the person.’”

  “Perhaps Rachel could call her back and ask for more details,” Jack said, opening the back door.

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “Of course it doesn’t.” Jack followed her out the door and closed it behind them.

  Chapter 11

  A Few Days Later – Early December

  The List Narrows

  Libby sat on the picnic table near the concession area at the beach two blocks from the cafe. Since her first visit to Mariposa Beach nearly four years ago, this spot had been her special place where she came to think, listen to waves crashing on the beach, to people watch or marvel in the beauty of a sunset.

  She couldn’t get the dead girl and baby out of her mind. She wondered who the girl was and how she ended up in that wall. Where was she killed? Why and when was she moved? Who killed her? Did the father of the baby do it? Considering what Margaret Blanchard said about her father, Libby suspected that he helped his brother move the body to the empty building. Perhaps they were the ones who entombed her in that wall. Since she definitely was not Annaliese, where did Annaliese go and where had she been for the last forty years?

  It was a chilly afternoon, and there weren’t many people at the beach. The wind picked up, and Libby wrapped her sweater around her body and folded her arms over her chest.

  The Christmas lights on the concession building flashed on and began to twinkle. Since moving from Ohio, Christmas lights on palm trees and inflatable Santas amid tropical foliage seemed foreign to her, but she was getting used to it. She was surprised to realize that she liked the quirkiness of a Florida Christmas.

  “I thought I would find you here.”

  Libby immediately recognized the voice. She turned and greeted her cousin with a huge smile. “David, hello.”

  He stepped up onto the bench and sat next to her on the picnic table.

  “A chilly afternoon, isn’t it?” He zipped his jacket and hunched his back against the wind.

  “Feels good,” she said.

  “That was sort of a weird Thanksgiving.” David bumped her shoulder. “You all right?”

  “Of course, I’m fine. I know my mother is just looking out for me and is worried that what happened with my father being killed on the job, could also happen to me if I continue this relationship with Jack.”

  “I think Jack is good for you. You seem more yourself, or should I say, more the old you since you started seeing him.”

  “I feel more myself than I have in a very long time.”

  David put his arm around Libby and pulled her close. “I’m so glad.”

  Libby squeezed him and then pulled out of his embrace, “Did Steve talk to you about music for the gallery opening?”

  “Yes, he did. I do have a harpist who can play during the cocktail hour. This will be a great experience for her since it will be a smaller group and not necessarily on a stage. She has a little bit of stage fright.”

  David was an advocate of providing his students with as many performing opportunities as possible.

  “Thanks. I knew you would come through.”

  “Since Ben and I are playing the New Year’s Eve Party at the Inn, I asked Ben to come to the opening. We can sing a few Christmas carols, and I was hoping you would join us in a mix up of “Silent Night” and “O Holy Night. Remember we did that a few years ago at one of Mom’s parties.”

  “I would love to, but I don’t think I could play any instrument. My hand is not quite back to normal, even with therapy and squeezing that stress ball.” Libby opened her right hand, moved her fingers and then clenched them into a fist. “Almost, but not quite where it was.”

  “No worries, just bring your voice. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  • • •

  David walked with Libby back to the café. He picked up a coffee to go and said he needed to meet Ben to rehearse for the New Year’s Eve show. Libby picked up a cleaning cloth and started to wipe down the counter. She was finishing the display case when her phone buzzed.

  “Ray Ban?”

  “Hey, Red. You sure love to challenge me.”

  “What did you find out?” She stopped, cleaning cloth in hand.

  “After checking, double checking and elimination of those that didn’t meet the criteria, i.e., not the right dates, age range or race, hair color, etc., I’ve narrowed it down to four possibilities.”

  “Four…that’s not too bad,” she said. “Though, sadly, four young women disappeared within that time frame between early 1978 and late 1979.

  “I’ll send you the info via e-mail tonight. I’m still compiling what I’ve got, which is not a lot compared to what is available today. There’s still lots of information that has not yet been digitized, as you know. So, I’ve identified those in my report. You’ll have to check those out yourself.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “I’ll put it on your tab.”

  And he was gone.

  • • •

  Later that evening, propped up with her laptop against the pillows in her bed, Libby paged through the information Ray Ban had sent her.

  “Jeanette McDonald from Ft. Myers, Lynette Watkins from Tampa, Georgia Nielsen from Venice and Melanie Cooper from LaBelle.” She read the names aloud while sipping on white wine and thumbing through high school yearbook photos and newspaper clippings on her laptop screen.

  Ray Ban was right; the information is scarce.

  One news report caught her eye, though. Melanie Cooper from LaBelle had a job working at Hobson’s in Mariposa Beach. Her senior picture from the LaBelle High School yearbook revealed a pretty blonde with a sweet smile, and she looked quite a bit like Annaliese Hobson.

  A thought crossed Libby’s mind, and she pulled Ida’s photo that she had copied out of the back of the legal pad on which she had drawn her time line. There was a server in the picture that looked like a girl with a long blonde ponytail. The background was too grainy, and the girl was too far in the background to be sure, but it was a possibility.

  The phone buzzed, and she jumped.

  “Hi, Jack.”

  “What are you up to this evening?”

  She shut her laptop, picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Just sitting on the bed, watching some TV, having a little white wine.”

  “I wish I was there with you.”

  Libby moved the laptop to the side and relaxed into the pillows. “Me, too.”

  “The Sarasot
a Boat Parade is next weekend. Have you ever been to a boat parade?”

  “No, but I’ve seen the boats at the Paradise Park Marina decorated for the holidays.”

  “That doesn’t count. Do you want to have some dinner and watch the boat parade? We can walk to a good viewing spot from my place.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing your new place. From what you’ve told me, it sounds wonderful.”

  Jack had recently moved to a guest house on Bird Key, an island community just across the bay from Downtown Sarasota. He had solved a robbery for the owners of the house. They became friends and offered Jack a place to live, with the thought that having a police detective living on the property would deter any future problems.

  He had been living with his brother, Dr. Mike Seiler, for almost six years, after splitting with his ex-wife. His brother and his girlfriend, a nurse, were getting serious and talking about marriage, so Jack decided it was a good time to take his friends up on their offer to live in their guest house.

  “My place isn’t much. It’s a tiny, one-bedroom guest house. It’s not even really my place. I’m doing a favor for a friend.”

  “I’m looking forward to the boat parade and seeing your little place on the bay.”

  “Bring an overnight bag.”

  Chapter 12

  A Few Days Later

  Follow the Lead

  Ida Sullivan called the café just after the lunch rush. When Mimi answered the phone, she asked for Libby.

  “Ida, are you all right?” Mimi asked.

  “I need to talk to Libby about…you know.” Ida whispered the last part.

  Mimi rolled her eyes and held out the phone to Libby who was cleaning tables and carrying a tray of dirty dishes and table trash. “It’s Ida. She wants to talk to you about the skeleton in the wall.”

  “I heard that.” Ida’s voice carried through the receiver. “You don’t have to blab it all over the place.”

  Libby reached for the phone and mouthed “What?” to Mimi, who rolled her eyes, shrugged and took the tray from her.

  “Ida, is everything all right?” Libby could hear Zsa Zsa barking, then Ida covered the phone to shush the dog.

  “I need you to come over here as soon as you can. I got a call back. We need to track down this lead.” She was talking fast, excitement filling her voice.

  “Whoa, there,” Libby said. “What do you mean ‘track down a lead’?”

  “I have the address of that contractor. We can take a little drive and see what we see. He lives on a boat at the marina.”

  “Just a drive?” Libby asked.

  “Maybe we’ll get out and take a little look around.” Her suggestion rang with anticipation and even more excitement.

  “Let me check with Mimi and Louisa. I’ll be there at two o’clock unless I call back to set another time.”

  “Wonderful. See you then.”

  Libby thought sure she heard a little giggle before she disconnected.

  • • •

  Libby pulled into Ida’s driveway only a few minutes after the agreed upon time. Ida must have been watching at the window because she was out the door, pushing her walker, before Libby could open the car door. Libby was surprised to see Fletcher Smith close behind her. Zsa Zsa was barking at them from her spot in the front window.

  “I’ll sit in the back,” Ida said.

  Libby hit the button to open the SUV’s lift gate and headed towards the back of the vehicle. Fletcher folded Ida’s walker and placed it in the cargo space.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I offered to go along for the ride. I hope that’s all right.”

  Before Libby could utter, “Of course not,” there was a beep behind them. They turned to see Strauss in his red Mercedes convertible with a live Christmas tree in the back seat. With the front seat pushed as far forward as possible, the tree was tied to the car in all directions, to anything that would support a tie-down.

  “That’s a nice tree you have there,” Fletcher said.

  “Brigitte wanted a live tree this year,” Strauss said. “Where are you three going?”

  “We’re taking Ida on a short errand,” Fletcher said. “Her walker doesn’t fit in my car, so Libby offered to drive.”

  “You guys and your small sporty cars. Don’t drive too fast, or you’ll lose your tree.”

  Libby could feel Strauss’ gaze on her. She turned to check on Ida who was waving at Strauss from the back seat of the car.

  “That tree is bigger than your car,” Ida hollered.

  “I should be getting this home. I had to make two trips. Brigitte was first.” Strauss tipped his driving cap, put the car in gear and drove off down the street.

  “He’d better get home,” Fletcher said and laughed, as Libby closed the lift gate. “I wouldn’t want to leave Brigitte waiting. She’s quite scary, a real badass.”

  Once inside the car, Libby turned to Ida and said, “Where are we going?”

  Ida handed her a piece of paper with the address of Paradise Park Marina, slip number forty-seven.

  “Who is this?” She dropped the paper into the cup holder.

  “He’s the contractor who did some work for Hobson’s, including, I think, the building where you all found whoever she is.”

  Libby had informed Ida of the DNA results the day after Jack told her.

  “He may not have done the work, but he might remember who did,” Fletcher said.

  “Okay, we’ll go check it out. Just surveillance for now,” Libby said.

  “I think we should at least talk to the guy,” Ida said. “That’s why I asked Fletcher. He has experience with enhanced interrogation methods.”

  “What?!” Libby asked. “We aren’t going to water board anybody. Are we?”

  Fletcher laughed. “Don’t you remember? I used to be a fraud investigator. I’m a certified interviewer.”

  “We’re certified, all right,” Libby muttered, as she turned to back the car out of the driveway.

  • • •

  A few minutes later, Libby turned into the Paradise Park Marina. The road wound through a small park with a paved walking path and playground before ending at the marina. Libby pulled into a spot that faced the water. Fletcher retrieved Ida’s walker from the cargo area and opened it up.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  “This way,” Libby said. “The numbers are on the side.”

  They located the slip, which was at the end of the row.

  “Ida, are you sure this walkway is stable enough to walk down to the boat?” Libby asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “I could go down and see if the guy is there,” Fletcher offered.

  “No, I’m going down there, too,” Ida insisted. “I’ll walk slow and be careful.” She pushed her walker onto the floating pier.

  Libby and Fletcher exchanged a glance and followed her.

  The wooden pier was wide enough to push her walker with plenty of space on either side as well as a railing that ran along the right side. There were three boats on the right and a couple of empty slips on the left.

  “It appears to be this one coming up here,” Fletcher said, pointing to an older cabin cruiser to the right. It was white with Lilly Belle painted on the side in an elegant red script.

  “Ahoy there on the Lilly Belle,” Fletcher called out.

  “Ahoy?” Ida asked. “You sound like a damn pirate.”

  “Isn’t that how you call to someone on a boat?” Fletcher held up his hands and looked at Libby for validation.

  “I don’t know.” Libby said, stifling a laugh.

  “Hey, whaddaya want?”

  The three on the pier looked up into the grizzled, unshaven face of a man who Libby estimated to be about sixty. He wore cutoff jeans and a pocket T-shirt. He appeared as if he had just fallen out of bed.

  “Are you Buddy?” Ida asked.

  “Who’s askin’?”

  “I’m Ida Sullivan. This is Libb
y and Fletcher. My husband used to work for the Hobson’s.”

  “So, a lot of people worked for the Hobson’s, back in the day.” Buddy rubbed his hands over his stubbly face. He was lean with skinny arms and legs but had a little beer belly protruding under his shirt.

  “We’re sorry to bother you, Mr. uh…” Libby said.

  “Brown. Buddy Brown. Just call me Buddy.”

  “Buddy, we wanted to ask you some questions about when you were doing construction for the Hobson’s. Are you the right Buddy who worked construction back then?” Libby moved closer to the boat.

  Buddy stepped off the boat onto the pier. He took a crumpled pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket, pulled a lighter out of his pants pocket and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke.

  “Yeah, I worked construction. My old man and my uncle started the company. I took over until a couple of years ago when I sold it. I’m retired.”

  “Do you remember doing any work on the old Hobson store on Mariposa Boulevard?” Libby asked.

  He took another drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air. “That was the damnedest thing. They buy these two buildings, pay my old man to knock down a wall to make one big room, then years later, they pay us again to put the wall back up. Crazy people.”

  “Do you remember doing a drywall job there?” Fletcher asked.

  “I’ve done a lot of drywall in my day. Still, do a job now and then.” He took another puff and blew out the smoke. “What do you care about a forty-year-old drywall job?”

  “Have you heard about the skeleton found in the wall of the old Hobson store?” Libby asked.

  “What are you talking about? A dead body? In the wall?”

  “Yes, sir. This young lady and the new owner were pulling down the old drywall off the south wall of the building when they found a skeleton sealed up inside the wall.” Fletcher took a step forward.