I saw Brett’s car as I drove into the parking lot. It was getting close to five o’clock, a little early for happy hour in Miami,, but there were numerous cars and trucks in the lot.
Brett saw my SUV and ran up to meet me. I filled him in on the bus driver’s recollections as we made our way to the entrance. Brett pulled out the snapshot of a smiling Sherry and a serious looking handsome man. He looked like a rock star with his hair pulled into a ponytail and an earring in one ear.
“I guess I can see why Sherry was attracted,” I said.
“Well I can’t. He looks like a dork to me.” Brett glared at the photo.
“You have to be female to understand,” I said as we entered the half-light of the bar.
The smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the pungent odor of beer. A dozen or so men and a couple of girls were hard at work shaking off the work day. We approached the lone bartender.
“Let me talk to him, Brett. I’m used to getting people to talk with me. I think you’re pretty emotional right now,” I said.
“Of course, I’m emotional. My sister has gotten herself into a horrible mess. It’s possible she may not even be alive. Dammit, I’m sick and tired of picking up the pieces for my family. I never get a chance to just do my own work and be left alone.”
I put my arm around Brett and tried to give him an assuring squeeze, but he was as stiff as a cement column. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and I sure didn’t want him to snap. I remembered again his devastation after his father was murdered. His attitude wasn’t going to be much help getting more information.
“Go sit down at the end of the bar,” I said. I took the photo from his hand and pushed my way through the growing line of drinkers. “Excuse me, sir. I’m an attorney from Miami. I need some immediate help. I’m trying to find a missing friend. Can you take a minute to look at this photo and tell me if you recognize either of the people?”
The bartender looked at me, then at the photo and then back at me. He looked me up and down.
“Aren’t you a little old for this guy?” he asked..
“No, you have the wrong idea. He’s not my boyfriend. Do you know him?”
“Sure, I know him. He hangs here a lot. Girls are always latching on to him. That’s Paul Conrad. Everyone calls him Pauly.”
“How about the girl? Do you recognize her? Have you seen them in here together?”
“The girl looks like one of the Dartmouth rich kids that come in here, but I don’t actually remember her.”
“How about this Pauly guy? Do you know where he works or where he lives?”
“I don’t know, but I think a couple of my customers might know. Hey, Chris, come over here a minute.”
A heavy set man wearing a Red Sox cap got up from a nearby table. A short man in jeans and a sweatshirt came with him.
“Chris and Buddy, this gal is an attorney asking some questions about Paul Conrad. Do you know how she can find him?”
“What’d he do now?” Chris asked. “Are you from a collection place?” He turned to me.
“Absolutely not. In fact I may have some money that he’s owed. Where does he work?” I asked.
“Hell, no one ever owes Pauly any money. He can’t keep a job for more than a week at a time,” the one called Buddy said.
“Well, where does he live?”
Chris looked at me for a minute. “I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“You won’t, I assure you,” I lied, looking him right in the eye.
“He lives on an old farm. It’s between Woodstock and Bridgewater. I’m not sure exactly how you get there. Only been there once, but I remember it’s up a road without a sign that goes up to Cherry Blossom Hill where we used to go sledding.”
“ Do you know the girl in this picture with Paul?”
“Can’t say that I do, but ol’ Pauly, he’s always picking up some good lookers.”
“Thanks for your help,” I said. I collected Brett from his seat at the bar where he was gulping a beer.
He followed me out of the place, and opened my car door for me, setting poor Sam barking furiously.
“It’s okay Sam. Brett, we made some progress. Conrad is this guy’s last name. He gave a false name to Sherry. I’ve got an approximate location of where he lives. . Let’s go back up to High Pines and wait for your mom and Ken. By now they should have made the trip to the gas station. It’s not far from the house. I’ll follow you up there.”
By the time we pulled back into the drive at Lucy’s house, Ken’s car was there. I looked at my watch. It was just five thirty. I felt like two days had gone by.
CHAPTER
FORTY
Lillian rode in the back seat of Ken’s Lexus sedan. She supposed she could pull off the ruse that Ken was her driver. The car looked nicer than the SUV’s they passed as they drove toward the meeting at the Shell station.
She wondered what her husband would have done if he had lived to see Sherry in such a mess. He would have been all bluster, ordering everyone around and trying to bull his way into getting Sherry released. Lillian really didn’t mean to think about Gary. She tried to concentrate on what she would say when she met the kidnappers. Ken had instructed her to demand to speak to Sherry or the money would not be paid.
“We’re almost there, Lillian. Try to stay calm. I’ll be sitting in the car watching and listening. You said the instructions were to pick up a package at the mini-mart, unwrap it and then wait in the parking area.” Ken turned out of the side road and waited at the stop sign.
Lillian could see the gas station just ahead on the main highway. There wasn’t much traffic compared to five o’clock in Miami. Three cars and a pickup truck were parked in the parking area, and one car was at the gas pump.
Lillian got out of the car and walked slowly into the market. Ken rolled down the windows in the Lexus. There were three customers in line at the counter. A pretty young woman greeted each of them and chatted. Lillian shifted her weight, trying to be patient. She felt like she was going to faint or scream. Her ears were ringing. Finally it was her turn at the counter.
“Hi, there, can I help you? I’ll bet you’re here to see our beautiful fall leaves,” the girl said.
“Yes, of course, and I’m supposed to pick up a package a friend left for me, Sherry Yarmouth,” Lillian said. She looked around to see who was behind her, but it was just a heavyset woman waiting to pay for a gallon of milk.
“Sure, the package is right here. How do you know Francie?” the clerk asked.
Lillian looked at her blankly.
“Francie, who left the package for you,” the clerk asked.
“Oh, she was just doing a favor for someone I know.” Lillian grabbed the package and walked swiftly outside. She returned to the car and unwrapped the package.
When she saw the contents she started to cry.
“Lillian what is it?” Ken asked. He swiveled around to see what she was holding.
“It’s Sherry’s wallet. She liked mine so I got her one just like it. And this is Sherry’s sweater. I bought it for her in England.” Lillian buried her head in the sweater.
“Is there anything in the wallet?” Ken pulled it out of the box. “There’s a note,” he said.
Lillian grabbed the note from his hand. The words were letters cut out of a magazine or paper. “Wait by the pay phone. Don’t talk to no one.” was all it said.
“Damn,” Ken said. There’s no time to get a trace on that phone. Listen, Lillian, get the number on the phone. Maybe we can get a list of incoming calls when you’re through with the call. Get over there now,” he ordered, and remember the number. Don’t write it down. I’m sure someone is watching you.”
I don’t think I can concentrate enough to remember the number. Can’t we just look at it later?”
“No, not if someone is watching us.”
Lillian staggered out of the car and hurried to the pay phone at the end of the parking area. She looked around, but d
idn’t see anyone in the three cars parked nearby.
She opened the door of the booth just as the phone rang. As she picked it up, she saw the number on the base of the phone: 802-295-1154. Fifty-four was her age. She would be able to remember the number. “Hello. Are you calling Lillian?” she asked.
“Who’s that guy in the car? I told you to come alone,” the same gravelly voice said.
“I had to hire a car and driver to get here. I don’t know my way around these backwoods roads,” Lillian said just as she had rehearsed with Ken.
“I can see you, so watch it if you want to see Sherry again. Where’s the money?”
“I told you I don’t have all of it. It’ll all be here tomorrow, but I’m not handing it over until I have real proof that Sherry is alive and well.”
“I sent you a picture. What more do you want? Me and my friends are not playing here. We’re dead serious, if you get my meaning.”
“I must speak to Sherry or I won’t believe that she’s alive. I’ve followed your instructions and haven’t called any police, but if I don’t have a conversation with Sherry, I’m not paying any money.”
“I’ll think about it. Wait for my call on your cell phone.”
“When will you call?” Lillian asked, but all she heard was a dial tone. Gravel voice had hung up.
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
We were gathered back in the Great Room. Lillian finished telling us about the events at the gas station, and Brett and I filled everyone in on the bus depot and Skunk Hollow.
“Okay, we’re making progress,” Ken said. He was interrupted by Lillian.
“I forgot something that could be important. The clerk in the market said someone named Francie had left the package for me. She acted like I was supposed to know her.” Lillian was still holding on to Sherry’s sweater twisting it around her hand as she spoke.
“Good girl,” Ken said. “Now we’ve got a lot more information. We know the real name of the guy who Sherry left with. We have a picture of him and a general area where his farm is located, if that’s where he took Sherry. We know that the name of the woman who left the package is Francie and that the store clerk knows her. These are not exactly polished criminals.”
“What about the phone number on the public phone at the gas station?” Lillian asked.
“Remember, I phoned that into my friend at the Secret Service, when we were on our way back here. He’s supposed to get back to me as soon as possible. He’s working on the tracing of Sherry’s cell phone,” Fred said.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was so nervous that I forgot you called from the car” Lillian said.
I looked at Lillian. She was very pale. “Lillian, how about a cup of tea? You need something to calm you a bit. My mother always says chamomile will do the trick.”
“Thank you, Mary. You are always so kind. Thank God you were visiting up here, and Ken, you have been so generous with your knowledge and time. I think I need to go back to the inn and lie down for a while. Brett, let’s go back to Hanover. I’ll wait for the next phone call, and call you with any news immediately.”
“And I’ll nose around a bit. Everyone knows everyone here, so maybe with some names and this picture, I can find out more,” I said.
Lillian and Brett left in Brett’s car and I walked Ken out.
“Ken, what do you think? Is there a chance that Sherry is alive?” I hated to ask that question. I was beginning to think that there was so little chance of ever seeing her alive. I wanted to kick myself for not insisting that Sherry forget her plan to go away with a stranger for the weekend.
“I think there’s some chance. These people appear to be very inexperienced, but you never know what will spook them.”
“I’ll see you early tomorrow and we’ll go get your nuisance lawsuit out of the way. Call me if you hear more about the trace on Sherry’s BlackBerry.”
I walked Sam and poured a glass of wine. The adrenaline was pumping and I couldn’t seem to sit down for more than a minute. After pacing through the rooms of the house for the third time, I loaded Sam in the Explorer and drove over to Dash’s office. He knew everybody in the Upper Valley. I decided to trust him and see if any of the names or faces in Sherry’s kidnapping meant anything to him. I missed my support system, my brothers, and Catherine, but most of all, Carlos, who would be so engrossed in Sherry and Lillian’s newest mess.
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
The front door was locked when I arrived at Dash’s office. Daisy’s car was gone, but there was a light in the foyer so I tapped on the door. Dash came down the hallway and smiled when he saw me.
“Mary, glad I was still downstairs. I’m happy you came by. How are your friends from Miami?” Dash ushered me in and motioned me back to his office.
I plunked down in one of the chairs across from his desk chair. Dash pulled the other chair close to mine and sat down.
“They’re not good. Dash, can I trust you not to breathe a word of what I’m going to tell you? I need to pick your brain, but this is really a life and death matter, and that’s not just a figure of speech.”
Dash reached over and took my hand. “Mary, you are freezing.” He rubbed my hands in his warm grip. “Of course, you can trust me. You look exhausted. Sit here a minute.” He went to a cupboard in the bookcase and came back with a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. He filled the glasses and handed me one. “Take some sips of this. What’s this about?”
“My client’s daughter has been kidnapped. Sherry disappeared over the weekend. She told me that she had a secret boyfriend and was going to his farm to spend the weekend. Then her mother, that’s my client, got a call asking for money and she was sent a photo on her cell phone of Sherry tied to a chair with a gag over her mouth.”
“That’s unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a kidnapping in this area.”
“Of course, they told Lillian not to call any law enforcement, and she believed them and refused to let me call. Ken Upham has been helping me. She agreed to let him put some investigative techniques to work. It must be fate that you introduced me to him.”
“Tell me what I can do to help,” Dash said. I realized that he was holding my hand again.
“Maybe you can tell me who some of these people are who we’ve managed to uncover. The guy who Sherry thought was her lover lured her away for the weekend. She called him Conrad. She thought he owned a dairy farm. We found a picture in her room at Dartmouth and I found out his name is Paul Conrad. He’s some kind of drifter or deadbeat. Here’s his picture.” I pulled the photo out of my handbag.
“I do know him,” Dash said at once. They call him Pauly. He’s had an awful life. His dad was a drunk who beat his mom and one day when Pauly was around fourteen, his dad killed his mom. The father was convicted and is serving a long sentence in Kentucky. Vermont contracts with other states for defendants with maximum prison sentences.”
“What about Pauly? Does he have a farm?”
“Pauly became a ward of the state and went to a foster home. He stayed with the Wallace family. They had a son around the same age, Otis Wallace.”
“What about a farm somewhere between Woodstock and Bridgewater?”
“I think that might be where the Conrads lived, but I don’t think it was much of a farm, just an old house and some land.”
“Does this Pauly guy still own it? Maybe that’s where he took Sherry?” I glanced at my watch and realized it was almost seven-thirty. I stood up getting ready to leave.
“I don’t know, but maybe tomorrow I can search the records at the courthouse. Listen, Mary, why don’t you stay here for dinner? You haven’t seen my upstairs where I hang out. You can chill out and I’ll cook dinner for us.” He put his arm around my waist and tried to pull me closer.
“Thanks Dash. Maybe I can take a rain check. It’s great of you to ask, but right now I just don’t need any complications.”
“Maybe I’m what you need; an uncomplicated g
uy,” he said. “It can just be dinner. No other quid pro quo.”
“I have Sam waiting out in the car, but I appreciate your caring.”
I drew away and started for the door. Then I remembered something else.
“I almost forgot. Do you know anyone named Francie? That’s another name that surfaced.”
“Sure, that’s who I was talking about. Francie Wallace is the foster mother of Pauly. I know her. She was Carolyn Brousseau’s housekeeper.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
My brain was on speed as I drove home. Carolyn Brousseau’s housekeeper was mixed up in Sherry’s kidnapping. Francie worked for the victim of an unsolved murder. This news made me totally fearful of ever recovering Sherry.
I made a pot of coffee and sat by the fire. Pauly was the person who lured Sherry away. These kidnappers couldn’t turn Sherry over to her mother knowing that she could identify Paul Conrad and perhaps lead the police to Francie and whoever else was a partner in this outrageous crime.
I called Ken, but got his voicemail, so I left a message that I would give him more information in the morning. I am a person who is used to acting, not reacting and this waiting game of taking no action left me feeling like an insect trapped between a fly swatter and an exterminator. Was I killing time until the bad guys killed Lillian’s beautiful naïve daughter?
I fell asleep fully clothed on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Hours later, I awoke shivering. The fire was out and cold hung over the house like a dark hand, gripping all the feeling out of my body,
I soaked in a hot bath and snuggled under two down quilts, but sleep evaded me. Sam curled over my feet and gently snored until I got up and began going through the morning rituals by rote.
At eight o’clock, I pulled up in front of Ken Upham’s house. I was probably too early, but it seemed like noontime to me after the sleepless night. Sam had protested mightily when I urged him back into his crate after his breakfast and morning walk. Guilt was seeping into my petting of the poor dog who would undoubtedly be ecstatic to return to Miami and our familiar house where he could roam into any room he pleased.
Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October Page 13