by Jean Martino
Taking the yellow pages out of the file he folded them and put them in his inside jacket pocket, returning the file to its hiding place alongside the CPU and pushing the CPU against it again. He would need to study them more closely later when he was alone, to see if he could put the pieces together and if they provided some clue to Cindy and Michael’s disappearance. He didn’t like what he was feeling at that moment. Could Cindy’s investigative report on White Collar Fraud and Michael being a stock broker tie in somehow? For their sakes he hoped not. But how could they have afforded a house like this on a stock broker’s salary? For now there was no sense in showing them to Linda. She wouldn’t understand their significance and he didn’t feel like trying to explain until he was sure himself.
For several more minutes he sat at the desk, staring through the window that looked down over the tropical gardens in the back. Something didn’t feel right about the house. He had noticed there was not one photo, framed or otherwise, on any piece of furniture or on the walls up here or downstairs, no ornaments except for cloth flowers downstairs and candle holders on the dining room table, and the only artwork on the walls were medium priced paintings in ornamental gold frames that could have been picked up in any department store gallery. The furniture was expensive looking, but looked like the kind of furniture one would find in model houses up for sale in some expensive tract of homes.
Walking out onto the landing again he looked around at the walls and ceilings, noting a smoke detector and then a wooden square with a cord hanging within reach. Pulling it brought down a short stepladder and he went up into the roof space and looked around. Like everything else it was empty.
After another check around the rooms he went downstairs and looked inside the half bathroom which was as empty as the ones upstairs.
Linda was staring into the kitchen cupboards when he walked in. She turned to face him, her expression as confused as his was. “Cindy’s yellow Ford is still in the garage,” she told him. “And I found these in the glove box,” she held up the set of keys, frowning. “I wasn’t surprised to find them. Cindy was always very careless about security.”
“Perhaps she left them there on purpose,” said Scott. “Her letter said something about expecting you to fly over without telling them one day. Perhaps she was thinking if you did then you’d have wheels at least if they both were not home.”
Linda shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense to me. They both needed their cars for their own work.” She turned back to the open cupboards. “There are still dishes and stuff here and pots and pans and other cooking utensils, but there’s not any fresh food anywhere,” she said with a puzzled look. “Lots of cans of stuff though, and the refrigerator’s freezer compartment is jam packed. I’m surprised they keep so much food around just for the two of them. Even frozen food has a use by date.”
Scott smothered a smile at Linda’s motherly attitude and felt an overwhelming urge to go up and hug her. But he resisted the urge, saying, “Well perhaps they entertain a lot and perhaps they just went off somewhere for a few days and---”
“It’s been longer than a few days,” she said with a frown. “The neighbor told the police he’d seen them packing suitcases in the car a couple days before I had the police check here and that was now six days ago. They’ve been gone almost a week, Scott. It couldn’t have been a short trip then. What did you find upstairs?”
Reluctantly he told her about the empty clothes closets and bathrooms, the computer stripped of its hard drives and the empty filing cabinet, not mentioning the manila file at this time because he wanted to check it further first. “All of their clothes and personal items are gone,” he said. “All traces of them having lived here have been removed. Besides the furniture, only linens and bed coverings are left.”
Linda felt dizzy, grabbing hold of the cupboard door for support, her knuckles turning white. “Dear God,” she whispered, staring around in confusion. “This is their home. If it wasn’t we wouldn’t have had the shut off code to the alarm system and found the spare key outside and Cindy’s car in the garage and, look!” She ran out of the kitchen in her stockinged feet and into the living room. “That’s the lounge suite she said she had bought with the money I sent them for a house warming present. Scott! This is their home! What in God’s name has happened to them?”
Before he could answer she had run towards the garage door and thrown it open, rushing around the otherwise empty garage, except for Cindy’s car, grabbing empty boxes and looking inside before tossing them aside. He followed her and noticed there was a vacuum cleaner in one corner, a lawn mower in the other, a washer and dryer, and garden tools hanging neatly from hooks on boards. But there was nothing personal there. No half finished projects Michael might have been working on, no boxes filled with memorabilia even. It was as though the house was a fully furnished rental property waiting for someone to move in and start living there. He walked to the back of the garage where two garbage bins stood; lifting the lids and seeing nothing, not even a scrap of paper, in them.
“Her dolls!” Linda almost screamed. “She’d collected them all her life and would never have thrown them out. And all those wedding gifts and all the stuff she’s had since she was a little girl. Scott! Cindy never would have thrown any of that out and she couldn’t have taken them with her on a trip anywhere.”
“Her letter said something about their things being in storage somewhere,” he said, wondering also how all this could make any sense.
“But they must have brought some of their personal things here to their home,” she said in a strained voice. “And that neighbor said he saw them leaving and tossing suitcases in the car. He would have seen if they had taken all that stuff too. I mean all their clothes and personal stuff. They would have needed a truck to get it to a storage place and he would have seen that wouldn’t he?”
He hurried over to her, realizing she was getting hysterical now. “Linda, he said, holding her by her arms and staring at her sternly. “Calm down. You have to calm down and try to think this out logically. Getting hysterical won’t help matters.”
She collapsed against him. He could feel her body shivering and held on to her. Then she raised her head and asked. “Is it possible they never fully moved into here? Could they have stored everything else before they moved here? Cindy did say they wanted a fresh start, all new furniture, which doesn’t make sense seeing the house is fully furnished anyway. Perhaps they decided to store everything else until they decided what to do with it all.”
“Makes sense,” he said, still not sure himself but wanting her to start thinking rationally. But there was still the abandoned car in San Diego to explain. He made a quick decision. “It’s getting late,” he said, checking his watch. “Almost six o’clock now, too late to drive to San Diego today. What if I got you a room for the night at the Marriott hotel near here? Then we could get an early start in the morning.”
“I had a feeling it would take more than a few hours,” she said, stepping away from him and trying to compose herself again. “My luggage is in the rental car that’s back at the Newporter Inn. And why should I stay in a hotel when I can stay here? Cindy would expect me to stay here and it’s quite secure with the alarm system.”
He put his arm around her waist. Her panic had passed for now but it could come back any time and for now she had had a rough day flying in from the other side of the world, meeting him for the first time, and now this shocking state of affairs. He had to try to steer her mind off it somehow for now. “We haven’t really had time to get to know each other have we?” he said. “If you want to stay here then that’s fine. I’m not that far away at my son’s house that I can’t be here in minutes if you need me. But tonight I want to at least take you out to dinner.”
His mentioning food made her realize she’d hardly eaten anything all day. The quick lunch at the hotel hadn’t settled well with her, she had been too anxious to get over here, leaving her half eaten sandwich on the plate in the
coffee shop. “We can eat here,” she said, liking the feel of his arm around her as they walked back into the house and closed the garage door. “There’s enough food in the freezer to feed an army. All of it is precooked too so all we would have to do is put it in the microwave and open one of those bottles of wine in the cupboard.”
“Okay with me,” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “At least tonight we don’t have to look at each other on a computer screen.”
She tried to force a smile. “How strange it feels to see you in person actually moving around and talking and---”
“And smelling your hair,” he said, pushing his face into her soft hair, “and feeling your skin, and you smell so delicious. God, where have you been all my life woman?”
“In your computer,” she said, then felt his arms encircling her and drawing her close and she closed her eyes, feeling his wonderful warm lips crushing hers as all kinds of crazy feelings erupted inside her.
The sound of the doorbell made them both pull apart with a start.
“Cindy!” cried Linda rushing towards the door.
Scott was right behind her, but he had seen the police car through the opened drapes. Before he could warn her she threw open the door, her smile freezing when she saw the two stern faced police officers standing there.
Quickly Scott took out his ID and showed them. “I’m Scott Walker,” he said, “retired police detective in the Sacramento division. I talked with your officer in charge of the missing person’s case at the Newport Beach division earlier today, and told him I was a friend of the missing lady’s mother. This is Mrs. Rossi; she just arrived this morning from Australia.”
“Can we see some identification please ma’am?” one of the officers asked.
Linda produced her American passport, her international driver’s license with her photo on it, and the letter that Cindy had sent her re letting herself in if she wasn’t home.
But still they weren’t satisfied. “Sorry, ma’am,” the officer said. “We have no way of knowing this letter is authentic. You’ll have to come down to the station with us for questioning.”
“Now hold on a minute,” cried Scott angrily. “This lady is here to try to find out what happened to her daughter and her husband. She’s not a criminal.”
“It’s okay, Scott,” said Linda, putting her documents back in her purse. “I want to talk to the man in charge anyway. It’s time now to file a formal missing persons report and now they have found the car they have to take it seriously. I also want them to know I have the legal right to stay in Cindy’s house for as long as I want.”
Scott agreed and after Linda had recovered her shoes they locked up the house, putting the key in Linda’s purse and then followed the police car down to the station.
After a couple of tiresome hours discussing the situation and learning that nothing else had come to light on Cindy’s disappearance, Detective Grant told them that he and the officers would need to look around the house for any clues as to what had happened to the missing couple.
“We’ve already done that,” said Scott. “There’s nothing untoward happened in that house. It’s as clean as a new pin.”
“Okay,” said Grant. “I will take your word for that. I checked with the Sacramento police department and Chief Mathews up there gave you a very high recommendation. But at this point there isn’t a lot we can do unless something comes up and someone reports having seen the couple. We’ll enter it in our data base so it will go over the wires to other police stations all around the country. This photo of them will help, plus the descriptions you’ve given us.” He picked up the photo Linda had given him of Cindy and Michael taken last summer camping with friends.
They drove back to the Newporter Inn where Scott moved her suitcase and overnight bag into the trunk of his car, and then she followed him to the Avis Rentacar office at the John Wayne airport where she turned in her rental car.
“I wish I’d thought to bring my mobile phone with me,” she said, shaking her head. “Guess I wasn’t thinking I could have used it here.”
“Now that’s something I can help you take care of now,” he said, turning onto Jamboree Road and heading for the Fashion Island Shopping Center. “We can buy you a cell phone to use while you’re here.”
Linda checked her watch and saw if was almost 9 pm, then smiled. “I guess I’d forgotten too that here the store hours aren’t regulated by the government as they are in Australia. I think I’ve been away too long. Have a lot of catching up to do on life on this side of the world.”
He took her to a telephone outlet store where she purchased a cell phone and they also picked up tapes for the answering machine.
At least now that the police were aware of their presence in the house it would save any embarrassing moments, Scott decided, as he drove them back to the house. But he didn’t like the thought of leaving her there alone, and he also needed to talk to the neighbor and see what else he could tell him about that supposed early morning incident he had witnessed.
Once inside the house he called his son on his cell phone, explaining briefly what had happened. “I’m going to stay here with Linda tonight,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Then he inserted the new tape in the answering machine and Linda made a brief recording giving the phone number and asking the callers to leave their name, phone number and a message. Almost immediately the phone rang and the messages started coming in from friends of Cindy and Michael’s, who sounded surprised to hear Linda’s voice on it and not Michael or Cindy’s, but left messages to have their calls returned as soon as possible.
“I’ll call them back tomorrow,” she said tiredly. “You don’t have to stay here tonight, Scott,” she added, when he carried her overnight bag and suitcase upstairs. She glanced quickly into the master bedroom then continued walking to the next bedroom, not feeling comfortable about sleeping in the room where Cindy and Michael would sleep, still hoping that perhaps they would return home soon, even though deep down she knew they wouldn’t. “I’m sure I’ll be alright on my own,” she said as he placed her suitcase next to the double bed.
“Not a chance in hell, lady,” he said. “I am not letting you out of my sight till this situation is resolved. I can sleep in the den on that couch in there. From now on we are joined at the hip.”
“You’re sure I’m not keeping you from other things though?” she asked, hoping he would say no, liking the idea of him being with her.
“Nothing that won’t keep,” he said, smiling down at her.
She wanted to reach out and touch his face, convince herself she wasn’t dreaming it all, that he was really there, standing in front of her, in the flesh. Not on her computer screen but in real life. “I’m starving,” she laughed, hoping he couldn’t tell how turned on she was feeling at that moment. Dear God, this is not like me, she silently admonished herself. I have to pull myself together, concentrate on finding Cindy, not making love to a man I have only met a few hours ago in real life.
CHAPTER 5
They found some frozen steak dinners in the freezer, complete with baked potatoes and vegetables. While Linda set the table, Scott opened a bottle of wine. “I sure hope they don’t mind us eating their food,” he said. “I’ll replace it before we leave here.”
“They would be delighted to share,” she said, then stopped and stared at him. “Oh God! Scott. What am I doing? My daughter is missing and could be hurt or needing me and here I am thinking about food.”
He placed the wine bottle on the counter and put his arms around her. “Honey, you still have to eat. Cindy wouldn’t expect you to starve yourself. And we don’t know that she’s hurt or needing you at this moment. We can only go on assumptions, and right now we only know she is not in the hospital and no one has attacked her or Michael here in their home.”
“I know,” she said, feeling like a fool but not wanting him to move away from her. “I’m here at least. Better here than on the other side of the world not knowing what to do.
Which reminds me, I need to call Michael’s parents, and Jessica, and tell her I’m alright and not to worry.”
He let her go reluctantly, he was beginning to like the way she felt in his arms. “Go call them now,” he said, glancing at his watch and seeing it was ten pm already. “It would be 2:30 pm tomorrow afternoon in Australia now. And for God’s sake, take off your shoes.” He grinned at her. “I know they’re killing you, and besides, I like your sexy feet.”
She grinned and kicked them off, feeling immediate relief.
She made her calls brief. Geoff and Carmel seemed relieved she was in Michael and Cindy’s home but could add nothing to solve the mystery surrounding them. When she called Jessica, she explained all that had happened since arriving, promising to call her the next day. When she hung up from talking to Jessica she found the table set, the wine poured, and the dinners all out of their foil packets and on the lovely white china plates with the gold edges. The lights had been dimmed and Scott had lit two candles and placed them in the middle of the dining room table between two bowls of fabric flowers.