Case of the Vanishing Visitor

by Shanna Swendson

“Well, then, thanks for walking me home.”

  “Actually, um, this was the closest I could find a parking space.” He gestured to the police SUV parked nearby, which I should have noticed.

  I didn’t know if this part of the world was prone to sinkholes, but that would have been the perfect time for one to open up right under my feet. Since one didn’t, I blurted, “I guess I’ll see you around,” and darted across the street, barely remembering to look for oncoming traffic. I let myself in to the newspaper office, locked up and set the alarms, then made my way through the now-silent press room to the stairs that led to my apartment upstairs, where I fell onto the sofa and buried my burning face in a pillow.

  I felt like Wes and I had reached a kind of understanding, but I didn’t think either of us understood what, exactly, it was. I was pretty sure that something was brewing between us, and we both were aware of that, but neither one of us seemed capable of doing anything about it. I wondered if he was worried about how it might look for his job if he was too cozy with the newspaper editor. That was why I hadn’t made a move. It might make for a situation even more awkward than me assuming he was gallantly walking me home, and then I’d have no choice but to quit my job and disappear during the night. I might complain about aspects of it, like the ghostly boss and slow news days, but I liked this job and I liked this town, so I didn’t want to mess it up. And so we remained in limbo, with a kind of heightened awareness of each other (at least, on my part) but not doing anything about it.

  The next morning, I took my time getting ready for work. Fridays were my light days, since it was nearly a week until the next issue. I usually spent the day planning the next issue and answering phone calls from readers responding to the paper that had just been delivered. One really nice thing about the slow summer time was that there was seldom anything controversial for readers to respond to. My assistant, Charlene Robinson, was taking the day off to have a long weekend for a family reunion, and I didn’t have to worry about doing much of anything until Florrie showed up for her interview.

  I went to the coffee shop down the street to get some pastries to serve Florrie, then made a pot of tea and sat at my desk, reading the Dallas newspaper that had laid me off. It took all my willpower to resist the pastries while I waited for the interview. The scent of cinnamon was quickly permeating the office.

  Time seemed to creep by. I thought maybe I should test one of the rolls, just in case, before Florrie got there. Not only would that provide quality control, but it would keep me from falling on them like a ravenous beast as soon as I served them. I glanced at the clock to see how much time I had, and I was surprised to see that it was already getting close to noon. No wonder I was hungry. But where was Florrie?

  Chapter Two

  This wasn’t the first time I’d been stood up for an interview. People often forgot or had something come up and didn’t bother to let me know. There had even been times when something bad had happened to my interview subjects to keep them from talking to me. In this case, I didn’t know yet whether I should be annoyed or alarmed. I doubted anyone would try to keep someone from talking to me about their experience visiting this town, but it was possible that something had happened to Florrie to keep her from showing up. She could have had a wreck on the way back from dinner or on her way to the interview, could have choked on something at breakfast, drowned in the pool, or any number of things.

  And I was now officially turning into my mother, jumping straight to the worst-case scenario. Florrie probably just got sidetracked and forgot. I’d put the appointment in my calendar, but now that I thought about it, she hadn’t put it in hers.

  I checked my phone for messages, in case Florrie had called or texted to let me know something had come up and I hadn’t heard it, but there wasn’t anything. I found the number she’d given me and called her. The phone rang several times before going to voice mail. “Hi, it’s Lexie Lincoln,” I said after the tone, “the newspaper editor you met at Margarita’s last night. We had an interview scheduled for eleven. It’s noon now, and I was wondering if something came up. Please let me know and we can reschedule.”

  Not that I was deeply invested in doing this interview, but being able to tell Jordan I’d talked to someone would get him off my back, and if someone made an appointment with me, it bothered me when they didn’t keep it.

  More time passed, and I let myself eat one of the rolls, since I didn’t want to go to lunch in case Florrie showed up while I was out. She might have taken my advice and gone to the day spa, and if they were running behind, that might have delayed her. She wouldn’t have had access to her phone while she was being massaged. At any moment, she’d come running in, apologizing for being so late.

  She didn’t. I tried calling again, letting her know I would need to reschedule if she still wanted to do the interview. I felt increasingly unsettled about the situation. She’d been so excited about being interviewed. I was accustomed to being ghosted by subjects, but they were the people who were reluctant, who agreed to the interview just to get rid of me but never had any intention of actually doing it. She was the type that had probably gone to buy a new outfit to get ready. Maybe something had happened. It might not just be my imagination spinning up story lines. It didn’t have to be something as extreme as a psycho kidnapper who’d snatched her as she left the restaurant. She could have had a car accident and might be in the emergency room right now, unconscious.

  “Jean?” I called out.

  A moment later, her figure emerged through the wall from the press room. “What’s up, kiddo?” she asked.

  “You haven’t heard anything on the scanner about an accident, have you? Or anything else big?” Since she was trapped in this building, she kept in touch with the outside world by monitoring the police scanner. That had the dual benefit of ensuring I knew everything that happened in town as soon as it happened and keeping Jean out of my hair most of the time.

  “You don’t think I’d have told you?”

  “It might not have been big enough for a story. We don’t generally cover every car accident. Not unless it’s a really slow news week.”

  “What makes you think there might have been an accident?”

  “The person I was supposed to interview at eleven didn’t show and hasn’t been answering her phone. She could have had a wreck on her way here. Even if it wasn’t a really bad one, it would tie her up, and keeping an appointment would be the last thing on her mind while she dealt with the cops, the wrecker, the insurance, and all that.”

  “Sorry, no wrecks at all. How late is she?”

  “More than an hour.”

  “Big news? Might someone have wanted to silence her?” It seemed I wasn’t the only one prone to jumping to the possibility most likely to make a good story.

  “Nothing that dramatic. Just one of Jordan’s chamber of commerce interviews. She’s vacationing here, believe it or not.”

  She smirked. “Then you do need to interview her. That doesn’t happen often. You may have caught yourself a unicorn. Do you know where she’s staying?”

  “She’s house-sitting for a friend, so there’s no hotel I can call, and the only number I have is her cell. I don’t know her friend’s name.”

  “I’ll keep an ear out, and I’ll let you know if it sounds like someone found a body.” She disappeared back through the wall.

  I knew I was probably overreacting, but my instincts were usually pretty good. I knew when something was big enough to be news, and I was worried about this woman who was a stranger in town. Had she drowned in the backyard pool during a morning swim? If she was swimming alone, she might have had a cramp or hit her head, and no one would have been there to help her. I shook my head. I really was turning into my mother.

  I didn’t hear anything from Florrie all afternoon, and worrying distracted me from my work. She was a woman on her own, and I seemed to be the only person in town who might know she was even here, so I felt somewhat responsible for her. Late in the
afternoon, I gave in and called Wes, ringing his cell phone instead of going through the police switchboard. I didn’t know yet if I wanted this to be on the record.

  “Lex, what’s up?” he asked when he answered. As always, his deep, rich voice gave me a pleasant shiver when it went straight into my ear.

  “I’m not sure. Can I run something by you?”

  “Have you uncovered another criminal conspiracy?”

  “No. But there may be a missing person. Isn’t there some kind of time period before you can report someone missing?”

  “That’s a myth. A lot depends on the circumstances. What happened?”

  “There’s a woman I was supposed to interview this morning, but she didn’t show, and she’s not answering her phone. She’s from out of town and was house-sitting for a friend, so it’s possible that I’m the only person who would notice if something happened to her.”

  “You’re concerned because she didn’t show up for the interview? What were you going to talk to her about? Is there reason to suspect foul play?”

  He sounded like he was taking me totally seriously, which both surprised and gratified me. “There wasn’t any reason anyone would have wanted to keep her from talking to me, if that’s what you’re asking.” I refrained from telling him that the interview was one of Jordan’s projects. He had issues with Jordan that I felt clouded his judgment.

  “Could she have had second thoughts about the interview?”

  “Maybe, but she was really eager and excited about it. This was the first time she was ever being interviewed. She made it sound like a red-letter day when we set it up.”

  “Could have been a case of nerves. She got so excited she chickened out.”

  “I suppose.” Actually, that was plausible. “You haven’t had any reports of wrecks or accidents, or anything like that, have you?”

  “No, no accidents beyond a fender bender on fast-food row near the edge of town. What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Florence Marz.”

  “Do you know who she’s house-sitting for?”

  “Sorry, no. The place has a pool, though. That’s one reason I’m worried. What if she had trouble while swimming and she’s there alone?”

  “I’m sure she’s in touch with her family. They’ll know if she goes missing. But I’ve got her name in case someone else calls about her, so we’ll be able to move more quickly.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I still felt uneasy about this, but at least I’d done something. “You know, there may be something sketchy about her husband. He’s on a business trip to Vegas and refused to let his wife come along.”

  “If he’s in Vegas, he can hardly have done anything to her.”

  “Unless he hired someone or got someone to do him a favor. The business trip would be the perfect alibi. He’s originally from here, so he’s sure to know people.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, now you’re blowing it out of proportion and looking for a story.”

  “My instincts are telling me there’s something to this, and you know how my instincts work.”

  “You are usually right when you feel like you’ve stumbled upon a story. I’ll give you that. But in this case, I think you might be reaching a bit.”

  “We shall see.”

  “I’ll let you say you told me so if something comes of this. But at the moment, I’m not sure what I can do other than keep an eye out for any Jane Does who end up in the hospital or morgue. We can’t send officers around to look over every backyard fence in town to see if there’s a body floating in a swimming pool.”

  He had me there. He couldn’t do much with the information I had. Which meant I needed more information. If I could just figure out who her friend was, that would give me a starting point for a search. For that, I’d need to find out who knew Florrie. Margarita’s would be a good place to start, since a cross section of the town ate there regularly. Even if Florrie had never been there before, someone might have recognized her. Since I’d skipped lunch, I went to an early dinner.

  Fortunately, the place was quiet enough that Margarita was able to slip me a drink soon after I arrived. “You look like you need that,” she said. “Though, actually, I think it was last night that you really needed it, since it was deadline day. Sorry I couldn’t oblige.”

  “I totally understand. You were a bit swamped last night. I bet you were the one who needed a drink.”

  “Believe me, I had a couple as soon as we closed. I thought those bachelorettes would never leave. They took up three tables and they stayed all night, but they didn’t order that much food, and they were lousy tippers. They just kept getting refills on their Cokes, and I suspect they were adding a little something to them. I might at least have made some money off them if we didn’t have free refills or if I’d been allowed to sell alcohol. I may need to petition to get that law changed. The people at the Old Mill may join me on that, and I bet Jordan would back me because it would help his tourism plans.”

  “I can write an editorial calling for the law to change and bring us in line with the rest of the state.”

  “You’d get crucified by half the town.”

  “And sainted by the other half. I think I can deal with it. The ones who’d be happy are more fun.”

  “Probably!” she said with a laugh. “Now, what’s up? You look worried.”

  “An interview subject seems to have vanished on me.”

  “Whistleblower? Do you think someone’s trying to silence her?”

  My knack for uncovering corruption seemed to have given the entire town the same idea. “No, just one of Jordan’s tourist things. Which, in a way, is more alarming. I’d understand a whistleblower changing her mind and ghosting me, but this woman was really excited, and not only did she not show, but she’s not answering her phone or returning calls. I’m worried that something might have happened to her since she’s in town alone.”

  “Wait, she’s actually here visiting, like on vacation? Here?”

  “Yeah, believe it or not. Well, really she’s house-sitting, but she’s treating it like a vacation.”

  “Does Jordan know? Are you sure he hasn’t kidnapped her to give her the hard sell on Stirling Mills as a destination?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh because I could picture it. “That’s a possibility I hadn’t considered. She may be trapped in the back seat of his Tesla as he drives her around to see all the sites. More seriously, Wes says there haven’t been any car accidents that sent anyone to the hospital. What I’m worried about is that she said the house where she’s staying has a pool, and if something happened while she was swimming alone, no one may know. The problem is that I don’t know who she’s house-sitting for, so I can’t even send anyone to check. I’m hoping maybe someone here knows who she is and might know who her local friends and family are.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Florence Marz. Her parents were apparently from here, and so is her husband. I think she said his name was Hugo.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell. What did she look like?”

  “You saw her. It was the woman I was sitting next to last night.”

  She frowned, like she was trying to recall. “I don’t remember you sitting with anyone last night. The seats on either side of you were empty.”

  Chapter Three

  A shiver went down my spine, but I shook it off. I knew I’d been talking to someone. A lot of weird stuff happened in this town, but I didn’t think this fell into that category. Then again, there had been no sign of Florrie since then. But no, I knew I’d spent the evening talking to a woman. “Seriously, you didn’t see the woman who sat next to me all evening?” I pointed to the seat where Florrie had been. I could vividly picture her there. “She got the street tacos with a side salad and iced tea. She didn’t finish her chips.” Which, I supposed, could have been a sign that she was not of this world.

  Margarita shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not sure I’d have noticed my own mother if she’
d been in here last night. We had those two big parties and I was down a waitress because Helena broke a glass at the beginning of her shift, cut herself, and ended up at urgent care, getting stitches. I had nightmares about bridesmaids last night. Those girls kept me running the whole time, and it took everything I had to stay nice to them. That gave me tunnel vision. And then the crew wound down with a few drinks last night after we closed. I was too tired to make margaritas, so we just did tequila shots. My memory of the whole night is, fortunately, blurry.”

  “From what I saw of that group, I can’t blame you,” I said, wincing.

  “So, this woman ghosted you?” She glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then moved closer to me and whispered, “Are you sure she didn’t literally ghost you?”

  “I’m pretty sure she was alive,” I said. Having the ability to see and hear ghosts meant that I did sometimes see people others didn’t, but it was pretty obvious when I was talking to a ghost rather than a living person. It’s not the sort of thing that’s easy to confuse. “I’ve never had a ghost give me a phone number before, and the number worked.” Now that I thought about it, though, there had been a generic voice mail greeting, not one she’d recorded herself. I could have been calling anyone. I had no way of knowing whom I’d been calling. But then something else occurred to me. “If someone was haunting your restaurant, I probably would have seen her in here before. I’d have seen the ghost, or if she’d just died and the place meant enough to her for her to haunt it, I’d have seen her in here while she was alive.” Remembering something from our conversation, I said, “She hadn’t been here before. She asked me what was good, and then she ordered it—and ate it.”

  “Okay, so real, living person.” But she didn’t sound entirely convinced. Turning to the waitress who was headed back to the kitchen after delivering a tray full of plates, she said, “Hey, Josie, you covered the bar last night, right? Did you know the woman who was sitting next to Lexie?”