by J A Whiting
“I don’t think her parents would be forthcoming with us if Cora was sitting there while they talk to us about Richard.” Angie watched the scenery pass by from the back seat.
“This should be a very interesting visit.” Mr. Finch sat in the front passenger seat. “I only wish that we could have brought the cats with us.”
“This is it. Here’s the house.” Jenna eased the car to a stop in front of a large, neat, white Cape-style house. “Ready?’
In several minutes, the Roseland twins and Mr. Finch were seated in the living room of Cora Connors’s parents. A fire was burning in the fireplace, and cookies, coffee, and tea were set on the coffee table. Some general chit chat ensued before Angie asked Mr. and Mrs. Ladd the first question about their son-in-law.
“Thank you for seeing us.” Angie nodded. “We thought it was important to get your perspective on Richard and his disappearance.”
Mrs. Ladd was short and petite and her white hair was cut short and stylishly around her face. She held her teacup in one hand and balanced the saucer on her leg as she trained her piercing blue eyes on Angie. “I’m not sure how much help we can be.”
“We’ll try, of course,” Mr. Ladd said. The man was tall and slender and had a full head of white hair. “What can we tell you?”
“Could you tell us what you thought about Richard?” Jenna asked. “What kind of person was he, how did you get along, things like that.”
“We weren’t keen on Cora marrying so young.” Mr. Ladd glanced at his wife. “We thought they should wait until they graduated, get to know each other better, not rush into things.”
Mrs. Ladd nodded.
“I guess they didn’t take your suggestion.” Mr. Finch smiled warmly at the couple. “Did you like Mr. Connors? Did you and your son-in-law get along? Did you spend time together?”
Mr. Ladd answered. “We hoped for the best. When they married, we really didn’t know Richard at all. Cora and Richard lived in Mill City and we moved here so we didn’t see a lot of them. Richard was cordial whenever we got together.”
“Was there anything about him that you didn’t like?” Angie questioned.
Mr. Ladd chuckled. “Sure. I’d hoped to be friends with my son-in-law. You know, play some golf together, watch some sports together, maybe, get dinner on occasion. That was my fantasy. Richard didn’t share my interest in doing things together.” He gave a shrug. “I didn’t take it personally.”
Mr. Finch made eye contact with Mrs. Ladd. “What are your thoughts on Richard?”
Mrs. Ladd took a quick look at her husband as she set her teacup on the table and then clasped her hands in her lap. “I’ve never trusted Richard.” She let her words float on the air before adding, “Not from the very beginning.”
“Why not?” Angie was surprised at the woman’s forthcoming comment.
Mrs. Ladd’s lips were tight. “I could never put my finger on it, really. At first, I thought I was being overly critical, but something about Richard has picked at me all these years.”
Finch encouraged the woman to say more. “What were your concerns?”
Mrs. Ladd let out an exasperated sigh. “Richard was always polite, cordial, conversed with us about world events, local news, his job, the kids.”
Mr. Finch tilted his head in question.
“But he never talked about himself.” Mrs. Ladd held her hands up. “Never.”
Mr. Ladd said, “We know about Richard’s background. Cora told us. It’s understandable that he wouldn’t want to talk about his past.”
“That still doesn’t explain his complete silence about everything.” Mrs. Ladd looked from Angie to Jenna to Finch as if they might offer the answer. “You’d think the man would talk about something he’d done as a child or a teen or a young man, but no. Nothing. He always avoided my questions. I find it very odd.”
Mr. Ladd forced a smile. “I think my wife is making more of it than it requires.”
“I’ve always sensed something was off with Richard.” Mrs. Ladd shook her head, leaned forward, and used a conspiratorial tone. “I’ve always thought he was older than he claimed to be.”
“There’s no evidence for that.” Mr. Ladd tilted his head.
“Richard is not one year older than Cora.” Mrs. Ladd’s face was screwed up in a pout. “He’s older. I’m sure of it.”
A flicker of anxiety rushed through Angie’s body and she took quick looks at Jenna and Mr. Finch to see if they sensed the same thing. Jenna raised an eyebrow and Finch gave an almost imperceptible nod which told Angie that she was not alone in her feelings.
“How did Richard get along with his sons?” Jenna wanted to hear the Ladd’s take on Richard’s and his boys’ relationship.
Mr. Ladd spoke. “Richard was a hard worker. He expected the boys to do well in school, do some chores around the house. Richard wasn’t touchy-feely with his children, he had expectations for his sons, he wanted them to work hard and be contributing citizens.”
Mrs. Ladd huffed. “The man could have shown a more loving side. He was too strict. He didn’t show the boys affection. Children need affection. They need to know that they are loved for who they are, not who you hope they become.”
Angie liked Mrs. Ladd and was eager to hear more of her impressions. “Did the boys get along with Richard?”
Mrs. Ladd gave a shake of her head. “Roman was a pleaser. He would do anything that anyone asked him to do. Karl, on the other hand, has a rebellious streak. He’d dig in whenever Richard wanted him to do something. I think the boy wanted his father’s love and when it was withheld, Karl would resist or oppose his father.”
Mr. Ladd frowned at his wife. “That sounds very harsh. Some kids just chafe against parental supervision.”
“And some kids don’t get the attention they need.” Mrs. Ladd moved her hand around for emphasis. “Oh, Cora did her best, but Karl craved his father’s attention and approval. I agree that the boy is difficult. He still is to this day. But I think if Karl had been handled differently, things would have turned out differently. It’s just my two cents.”
“We appreciate your openness.” Mr. Finch nodded. “Forgive the bluntness of my question, but has Karl had issues with drugs?”
Mr. Ladd said, “He hangs around with questionable friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took drugs, but honestly we don’t know.”
“What do you think has happened to Mr. Connors?” Finch questioned.
“The police think he took off.” Sadness permeated Mr. Ladd’s tone. He reached over to gently take his wife’s hand.
The woman swallowed hard and brushed at her bangs. “I think that Richard was irreparably harmed by his childhood. I think he is unstable, but I can’t believe that he grew tired of being a family-man and just abandoned our daughter and grandsons.” The woman’s eyes clouded. “If he did, then God help him if he ever shows his face around me again.” Shaking her head, she looked down at her hands in her lap. “I think it was foul play. I think that one day someone will find Richard and then my daughter can put this whole mess to rest.” When she looked at her guests, they could see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I hope with all of my heart that you can find a tiny clue that will make a difference. Please keep trying.”
Angie couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew something about their visit and what the Ladds had told them was important … she could feel it thrumming through her blood.
21
“Why do I feel so uneasy?” Angie eyed the front door of the Mill City residence that she, Jenna, Courtney, and Finch were walking towards. “I’ve never been around a psychic before.”
Courtney gave her sister a look. “Really?” She made a circular gesture with her hand. “What about all of us?”
Angie’s eyes were wide from the unease she was feeling about coming to speak with the wife of the psychic who had consulted with the police on Richard Connor’s case. “I don’t think of us as psychics.”
A smile formed over Courtn
ey’s face as she shook her head. “I’m not sure what else you’d call us since we all have paranormal skills.”
“Shh.” Angie tried to shush Courtney. “Don’t talk about it in public.”
Courtney ignored Angie and thought for a moment. “Although, Ellie’s thing is more the telekinesis stuff. I guess you could still call her a psychic though … you know how she sometimes can tell when someone is about to call or come to the door.”
The four stood on the front porch of the psychic’s former home waiting for his wife to answer the doorbell.
“Could we talk about this later?” Angie adjusted her scarf against the cold wind.
Just as Jenna was about to push the button again for the doorbell, the front door opened and a short, gray-haired older woman stood in the small foyer of her home looking from person to person. “The Roselands and Mr. Finch, isn’t it? I’m Melinda Carter.” She had a soft, kind voice. “Please come in.” Leading them to the room on the right of the foyer, she said, “I thought we could sit around the dining table and talk. I’ve put out coffee and tea and water and some banana bread.” The dining table had been set with delicate cups and saucers, napkins, silverware, and small white plates, with carafes of coffee and tea placed in the center. “Please sit down.”
“How lovely.” Mr. Finch eyed the nicely set table with appreciation. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
When the group was settled around the table and condolences had been offered for the loss of her husband, the older woman began the conversation. “My husband, Arthur, was a good man, a very kind person. He worked as an accountant all of his adult life. He only retired last year, and still he did some part time work for his firm. He enjoyed keeping busy.” She passed the plate of cookies to Jenna. “As you know, Arthur also had a skill. A skill he wanted to use to help others.”
“Did your husband have his skill from the time he was a boy?” Finch was quite interested to hear about the man.
“He did.” Melinda Carter nodded her head and smiled. “His parents frowned on such things, but his grandmother had the same ability and quietly answered Arthur’s questions and helped him understand what he could do.”
“When did he tell you about his gift?” Angie asked.
“He told me after we’d been dating for a while.” Melinda smiled warmly. “He took a big chance revealing his skill to me. It was a brave thing to do.”
“You took it well, I guess.” Courtney’s face was bright with interest.
“I thought it was fascinating … and it was part of who Arthur was.” Melinda paused for a moment. “For over sixty years, I loved that man and all of his wonderful qualities.” Winking at her guests, she told them, “That included his unusual characteristics.”
Courtney smiled. “Maybe your husband sensed that you would be open to his … ah, interesting ability.”
Melinda chuckled. “That could very well be.”
“Did he consult with the police often?” Courtney wanted to hear all about Arthur’s experiences.
“Unfortunately, there is no shortage of evil doers.” Melinda’s expression turned somber. “Arthur was called in to help fairly often. It wasn’t just for Mill City. He traveled all over the country to assist the authorities. Twice he even went all the way to England.”
Courtney’s blue eyes sparkled. “Cool.”
“You’d think that Arthur would tell me all about the incidents he was involved with, but he was bound by two restrictions. One being the confidentiality required of working with law enforcement. Details couldn’t be shared, things had to be hush-hush. They certainly didn’t want to alert any of the suspects if they were on to them. The second reason was a personal one … working the cases and using all of his senses to evaluate a situation was exhausting for him. I think it took a serious toll on his health. As he got older, I often insisted that he decline the police request to consult for them.” Sadness tugged at Melinda’s face and a slight tremble fluttered over her lips. “Arthur’s heart was weak. He’d had several heart attacks. I feared that any more ‘experiences’ would be fatal.” Looking down at her cup, she swallowed and sighed. “I was right.”
“You think he passed away because of his psychic abilities?” Jenna’s eyes were sad.
“I think it was too much for him. He had a heart attack shortly after the last thing he tried to help with.”
Angie said, “The police told us that your husband had contacted them recently about the Richard Connors case. Did he have new information?”
“I don’t know much and I’m sorry I can’t help you as much as I‘d like to, but as I said, Arthur did not share details. I do know that he had very strong feelings that Richard Connors was alive and well.”
“That’s what he told the police? That was the newly shared information?” Mr. Finch leaned slightly forward.
“It was more than that.” Melinda looked from person to person. “Arthur felt strongly that Richard was about to make a visit to Mill City or was already here.”
Angie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Here? In Mill City? Why?”
Melinda shook her head. “He didn’t know why, but he felt that Richard’s intentions were dangerous ones.”
“Then the man’s return is not to be celebrated.” Finch rubbed his chin and looked over his eyeglass frames at the sisters. “Which suggests that Richard Connors did not meet with foul play. The man probably was not kidnapped or harmed in any way. His disappearance seems to have been self-driven.”
“That is what Arthur thought from the beginning.” Melinda ran her finger over the handle of her porcelain cup. “Arthur experienced a profound sense of anxiety and concern over what he called Richard’s sociopathic tendencies. Arthur told me that the good things people were quoted as saying about Richard were only because those people didn’t know the man. Arthur felt that Richard was hiding his real self from others and that he was losing the ability to successfully continue to do that. My husband believed that Richard planned his disappearance because he feared being found out or that he would incriminate himself by being unable to keep up his façade.”
“What did your husband think that Richard was hiding?” Angie’s mind was racing and her heart pounded like a drum.
“Arthur didn’t know, but he was sure that Richard ran away because of what he was hiding.” Melinda’s face hardened. “I hold Richard Connors partially responsible for my husband’s death.”
The four people around the table stared at the older woman who brushed at a tear threatening to escape from her eye.
“Arthur was consumed with worry. He could not stop thinking about Richard. I told him to pass his concerns over to the police. I was very, very worried about Arthur. His health was slipping, he had become frail. I was so worried that his fears about Richard would hurt him.”
“Did telling the police about his worries help to calm him at all?” Jenna asked.
Melinda shook her head slowly. “I came home one day from shopping and doing errands. There was a car in the driveway that I didn’t know. When I came inside, Arthur was sitting here at the table with a woman and they were in the midst of a very serious discussion. I went into the kitchen to give them some privacy. After that conversation, Arthur had to go to bed. What little strength he had, had been drained from him. He didn’t recover. He died two days later.”
The sisters and Finch murmured sympathetic words.
Melinda’s eyes glistened with tears. “The house is so quiet without my sweet Arthur in it.” Brushing at her eyes, she added, “There is a hole in this house that will never be filled … just like the hole in my heart.”
Angie had to bite her lip to keep from tearing up. Mr. Finch gently placed his hand on top of Melinda’s and said in a soft, kind voice, “We are truly sorry for your loss.”
After a few minutes of silence, the group stood up and walked to the foyer, thanking Melinda for her time. They each hugged the woman and then
headed for the front door, but just as Angie took a few steps in that direction, a wave of terrible unease clutched at her stomach with such force that she thought she might be sick. After taking in several deep breaths, the sensation that had overcome her eased and faded, but it left behind a slow, deep thrumming that pulsed through her blood.
Turning back to Melinda, Angie asked, even though she knew what the answer would be. “Who was the woman who was sitting with your husband at the dining table when you returned home that day?”
“It was Cora Connors. Arthur called her and asked that she come to speak with him.”
“Arthur wanted to tell her that Richard was probably in Mill City?” Angie questioned.
“That, yes.” Melinda’s face was serious. “But he also wanted to warn her.”
“Why?” Jenna asked. “About what?”
Melinda clasped her hands together. “Arthur wanted to talk to Mrs. Connors because he was sure she was in the path of terrible danger.”
A cold of wave of fear washed down Angie’s back.
22
Mr. Finch entered the kitchen through the back door of the Victorian carrying a paper bag. Removing his winter coat and hanging it on the wall-hook, he joined Courtney at the kitchen island. “I made guacamole and salsa.” The man took the bowls out of the bag and placed them on the counter. “Perhaps, they should be refrigerated before dinner. Miss Betty is unable to come for the meal, but she will join us later for games. She sent along her famous refried bean dip and chips.”
Euclid sat next to Circe and trilled. The big orange boy loved Mexican food night at the Victorian. Mr. Finch winked up at the cats. “I agree with you, my friend.”
Angie removed a pan of sopaipilla quesitos, cinnamon flavored pastries with a sweet, cream cheese filling, from the oven and set them aside to cool. Courtney was in the middle of preparing a veggie filling for tacos when Tom came in carrying his pan of home made enchiladas.