“Yeah – it’s cold.”
“Funny guy,” he said.
“I’m following a lead that might give a clue about what brought our friend to Boston,” I said. “I’ll let you know if it pans out.”
“Sure.”
I half expected Calley to ask me what friend I was referring to. I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t ask me what kind of lead I had. He’d be interested if it panned out though; if I ever told him.
“She’s still in the hospital,” Lucy said. “She told them she lives alone and there’s no-one to take care of her so as a precaution they’re going to keep her in hospital until they’re satisfied that she is sufficiently strong and mobile enough to get around without help. They’ll be giving her physiotherapy and they think she’ll be there for about a week.”
“Nice to get some good news for a change,” I said.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“I don’t think she’s a very nice person,” I said. “Nothing on her or Withers I’m afraid.”
“Did you tell Calley about Atterbury?”
“Of course not – he doesn’t know I’ve got Delmar’s phone numbers.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“We’ll take it in turns,” I said.
“What?”
“The driving – tomorrow.”
“Okay – can I be first?”
We made rudimentary plans for the following day and the day after. Lucy suggested that a good place to start would be the local high school, and I agreed. There were bound to be records of Lisa Burrows there. It wasn’t much more than ten or twelve years or so since she would have been there, and there were likely still teachers who remembered her. If she had family, they might be able to help us locate them. We had both her name and her photograph, and her appearance couldn’t have changed too much from those days. I was buoyed up by optimism. Somebody somewhere must know what this was all about – or at least have a theory.
I thought of Lisa, sunning herself on the beach or by a pool, or sipping cocktails on a hotel balcony somewhere down there in Florida while she and Don held hands and watched the sun go down. She’d be mortified to know that a couple of strangers were delving into her past two thousand miles away; but a man was dead and I was determined to find out why.
We had no alternative but to do the round trip to Rapid Falls by car, and the journeys back and forth would take the best part of two days. We weren’t earning any money in the meantime and we were daily racking up irrecoverable expenses. I had a long and no doubt miserable drive ahead of me, and there’d be an equally long and miserable drive back. I looked over at Lucy. She was playing Candy Crush again – online with one of her friends.
“C’mon, let’s go out,” I said to her.
“Out where?”
“I spotted a massage parlor down the road. Let’s go and spoil ourselves, then grab a bite to eat. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow and I need to get out of this room.”
“A massage and dinner at Denny’s,” she said. “What girl could ask for more?”
Chapter Twenty Four
Rapid Falls
There are three words to describe our journey to Rapid Falls – bleak, tedious and grueling. We set off at eight in the morning under a thick blanket of grey sky tinged with dull yellow. The landscape was flat, mainly devoid of vegetation, and gloomy. The driving wasn’t difficult, for the most part. The snow plows had done their jobs and the roads were mainly clear, but there were long backups along the way, mainly caused by traffic accidents, and sometimes the poor visibility brought the traffic to a crawl. Flurries of snow blew across the road in front of us and the pale whiteness of the landscape had a kind of mesmerizing effect. We sang along to the hits of days gone by on the radio. There was something more than slightly incongruous about listening to surfing songs by the Beach Boys amidst that empty, forlorn landscape. Lucy and I took it in turns, changing every hour or so. We had two stops along the way for food and one for gas. Our traveling companions were mainly truckers, their vehicles and brains apparently operating on autopilot. The journey was a little under three hundred miles and mostly as flat as a kitchen counter-top, but during the last thirty minutes or so we started to climb gradually until we reached a sign that proclaimed us to be entering Rapid Falls. Our elevation was twelve hundred and ten feet and the population was seven thousand and thirty-nine at the last count. I wondered how often they had to change that sign and whose job it was.
We stopped at a motel on the edge of town. It had an illuminated yellow sign, edged in red and it said this: ‘Vacancies’. I wasn’t surprised. I drove in there and pulled up in the parking lot.
“Don’t you think we should drive around a bit, do a recce, and see what else is available?” Lucy said.
“No.”
“There might be better places than this.”
“I don’t care. I want a bathtub or shower, hot water and a bed. I’m easily pleased.”
We went inside and the guy behind the counter started to ask us a bunch of questions about our preferences.
“Any kind of room,” I said; “just for the night.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just doing my job. Forty seven’s free. It’s sixty-eight plus tax,” he said.
The way I was feeling I wouldn’t have cared if it was a grand.
“Need help with your bags?’ he asked.
“We’ll manage,” I said.
Inside the room I collapsed on to the bed, face up. Lucy turned on the overhead light.
“No lights, Lucy,” I said. “Not just yet.”
Lucy sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“I never want to see the color white again,” I said.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Is that why you were wearing your ski mask when you were driving?”
“It cuts out the glare,” she said. “Anyway, white’s not a color. White is the absence of all color. Just as when something appears black it’s because the surface is absorbing all color; so neither of them is actually a color itself.”
“And you know this because…?”
“I paid attention when I was in school. I was very good at physics; I was very good at a lot of things as a matter of fact.”
“A little learning is a dangerous thing.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh, it’s one of your quotes, isn’t it?”
“Not mine,” I said, “Alexander Pope’s. He was a poet quite a long time ago − before you were born. Even before I was born.”
“They’ve got a tub. I’ll run a bath,” Lucy said.
A few minutes later she came back. “It’s a big tub – wanna share it with me?”
I opened my eyes and found Lucy’s eyes close to mine and wearing an expression which suggested a refusal would be a very unwise.
“Love to,” I said.
So we sat in the tub and scrubbed each other’s backs and then we sat opposite each other and made patterns with our legs.
“Feeling better?” Lucy said.
“A lot, yes. Thanks. Sorry for being a grouch.”
It was five o’clock. My vague plan was to spend the next day interviewing the locals to learn what we could about Lisa, drive back to Minneapolis on Friday, and hopefully fly back home the same evening.
Neither of us felt like eating anything. I dug out my Somerset Maugham. The next story was ‘Rain’, about Sadie Thomson, the loose woman. They’d made a movie of it in the nineteen thirties, with Joan Crawford. I asked Lucy if she’d seen it.
“All men are pigs,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” I said, “shall I?”
Chapter Twenty Five
Bob and Gladys
George Cranby leafed through his files. “I think the only member of our staff that goes back as far as that is Mrs. Applebee,” he said.
Cranby was t
he High School Principal and we were seated in his office. It was a little after nine o’clock.
“Would you be able to arrange for us to see her?” I said. “We’re on rather a tight schedule, I’m afraid. We’re only in town for the day.”
“She’ll be free after morning assembly for a short while. Perhaps you could speak with her in the staff room.”
“It’s rather a private matter,” I said. “Is there anywhere we could see her on her own?”
Cranby looked at his wristwatch briefly. “Well, I can let you have the use of my room if you like, so long as it’s not going to take too long.”
“Thank you Mr. Cranby,” I said, “it’s much appreciated.”
Lucy and I waited outside Cranby’s office where his secretary, Gillian, kindly made us both a cup of coffee.
“So you’re from the Twin Cities,” she said.
“No, Boston actually,” said Lucy, although we’ve been staying in Minneapolis for a few days.”
Gillian smiled dreamily. “Isn’t it wonderful there?”
“I’m afraid we didn’t see much,” Lucy said. “We’re here on business.”
“Well you must come back here in summertime; there’s so much to see,” Gillian said. “I’ve never been to the East Coast. I’ve never been to the West Coast either, so I’ve never seen an ocean. But you know I feel so blessed living in such a wonderful place as this. Minnesota is so beautiful.”
“We had a wonderful drive up here yesterday,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lucy staring daggers at me. Cranby returned to the room and introduced us to Mrs. Applebee. “Gladys,” she said, as we shook hands.
Cranby showed the three of us into his room. “I’ll leave you to have a chat,” he said. He turned to Gladys. “Let me know when you’re done,” he said.
“It’s very good of you to see us,” I said. “I’m a private investigator and Lucy here is my assistant. We’re making inquiries about a former student here and we understand that you’re the only member of staff who has been here long enough to perhaps remember her. Her name’s Lisa. She’s married now − very happily I’m pleased to say − but before that her name was Burrows. Recently her husband became concerned because of something that was troubling her; deeply troubling her I think I can say. He couldn’t get her to open up about the cause for her concern but it’s believed to relate to something that happened before he met her; something which happened here, where she grew up. I want to assure you that our enquiries are purely designed to help her. She’s done nothing wrong and her husband’s devoted to her. We’ve come here to see what we can learn about her background. Our sole concern is to help her.”
“And anything you are able to tell us, Gladys, will be in the strictest confidence,” Lucy said.
“I’d be pleased to help, but I don’t remember any Lisa,” she said.
I took the two photographs of Lisa from my wallet and showed them to her. She recognized her instantly.
“Elizabeth,” she said. “Why of course – Elizabeth Burrows. Well it must have been what… fifteen years ago? Such a lovely young girl.”
“How well do you remember her?” I said.
“I remember her very well. You know we have time for all our students but Elizabeth was, well, different. She was very bright, very smart but lacking in self-confidence. She was teased a lot by the other children, I think; bullied too.”
“Why?”
“Because she wasn’t like them. Elizabeth came from a broken home. As I remember, her father had left when she was still a baby. She was an only child and her mother was, well her mother was an alcoholic. Elizabeth had a hard life, and she didn’t have the nice clothes and the video games and all the things that her class-mates had. Children can be very cruel to each other, you know? Luckily most of them grow out of it, but she was a lonely child…I remember that.”
“What else can you remember, Gladys?” Lucy said.
Gladys thought for a moment. “She liked poetry,” she said. “I remember she told me once that it gave her somewhere to go. In her head, she meant. Like an escape. I’m so pleased that she’s happy now. You know that adage – give me the child and I’ll give you the man? Most of us teachers really do care about the future of the kids we teach. But our influence outside the classroom is limited I’m afraid.”
“Do you know what happened to her when she left school?” I said.
“She was fifteen, or maybe sixteen, when I knew her. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about her life after that.”
“Do you know where her mother is living?” Lucy said.
“Oh, her mother’s dead. I’m sorry, I do remember hearing about that. Elizabeth had to quit school as a result. She would have been about seventeen by then, I think.”
“And you don’t know what happened to her afterwards?” I said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. This is a small town though; there must be hundreds of people who can tell you about that. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help.”
“You’ve been very helpful already,” I said. “Thank you.”
As we got up and prepared to leave Gladys said: “Would you do something for me?”
“Of course,” I said.
“When you see Elizabeth… Lisa, would you remember me to her. Here, I’ll give you my number – if she ever wants to call me…”
“Thank you,” I said. “I will.”
Lucy and I headed for the town. We decided to stay together, and we visited, in turn, each store, restaurant, café and bar which lined the sides of the main street. No-one had heard of Lisa, or Elizabeth. No-one recognized her picture. On the corner of the street there was a general store. The signage proclaimed that it was established in nineteen seventy-three. It was called ‘Norman’s’. A rosy cheeked congenial man who looked to be in his mid-sixties was behind the counter.
“Hi,” I said, as Lucy and I entered. “Nice store you got here – looks like you sell everything under the sun.”
The man behind the counter beamed proudly.
“Are you Norman by any chance?” I said.
“I am that,” he said. He had a slight Irish lilt to his voice.
“So you’ve been running this place for over forty years?” I said.
Norman eyed me uncertainly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a private investigator. I’m trying to locate a girl by the name of Elizabeth Burrows. She used to live here.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know anyone of that name,” he said.
I took out the photograph and showed him. His eyes softened when he looked at it. He said nothing. “Do you recognize her?” I said.
“I don’t know her – I never seen her. Excuse me.” He turned to deal with a customer.
Lucy and I headed back to the motel. “He’s lying,” I said. “They’re all lying. What the hell is going on in this place?”
“Maybe she never went into that shop,” Lucy said.
“What, none of them? Ever? Did you see his eyes when I showed him Lisa’s photo?”
Back at the motel room I poured myself a slug out of what was left of my bottle of whiskey. “They’ve closed ranks, Lucy; all of them. Well perhaps some of them really don’t know who she is, but a lot of them do. They’re trying to protect her from something – but from what?”
I called Gladys and left a message. I was sorry to bother her again but I needed to talk to her. Could she please call me as soon as it was convenient?
“Come on Lucy,” I said. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Till Death
Gladys called soon after four o’clock. She invited Lucy and me to dinner at her home.
“My husband, Bob, would like to meet you both, and we’d like to show you some small town hospitality.”
Gladys offered to pick us up but I told her we’d find our way there. Yes, seven o’clock w
as fine, I told her; we’d look forward to it. Shortly before seven we headed over there.
“Kane, and Lucy, right? I’m Bob − welcome to our humble abode.”
We walked into a small but cozy living room. A log fire was burning in the hearth and a polished wooden staircase wound up from the living room to the second floor.
“Gladys is in the kitchen, doing what ladies do best,” he said. “Come on through.”
We walked into a long and narrow kitchen where all sorts of pots were bubbling on a wood-burning range.
“Hello, Gladys,” I said. “You’ll be sick of the sight of us by the time we leave.”
“I should’ve invited you this morning,” she said. “I must have forgotten my manners for a moment. Please make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Bob, fix Lucy and Kane something to give an edge to their appetite.”
Bob raised his arms skyward, hands facing up and smiled. “Better do as the lady says. What’ll you have?” he asked.
“Whatever you’re having, Bob,” I said. “Lucy, how about you?”
“I think I’ll go and help Gladys in the kitchen,” she said. “Maybe I’ll learn some new recipes.”
Bob and I sat down by the fireside.
“Gladys told me why you’re here,” he said. “Did you find out what you needed to know today?”
“No,” I said. “That’s why I called Gladys again. I need her help…or maybe yours.”
Bob looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “If I can, I will. I’m afraid I never met the girl, nor heard of her. At least, I may have done back then – Gladys does tend to bring her work home with her if you know what I mean – but I don’t have any recollection about that girl now.”
“Okay, I’m not going to beat about the bush. Lucy and I have drawn a blank – we can’t find anyone who admits to ever knowing or even hearing about her, but I know that’s impossible. For some reason people in this town are pretending they don’t know who she is. Now, I’ve been thinking about this a lot this afternoon. I’m a stranger from out of town and nobody knows me from a rat’s ass. I’m snooping around asking questions and they don’t want to give me the answers. There must be a very good reason for that. I need someone to tell these people that I’m a friend – not an enemy. I’m here to help Elizabeth if I can. I’m going to let you into a secret. Lucy and I have come here from Boston via Minneapolis to try to help. We’re paying our own way. We’re spending our own money. We’re doing that because we care. There’s something about Elizabeth’s background here that I need to know about before I can find a way to help her. Bob, if you can, help me find a way to help her.”
Till Death - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Four: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Stories...with a dash of Romance. A Murder, Mystery & Suspense Thriller Page 15