by Dave Balcom
“Why so much space, Jan?” Bromwell asked.
“Marci Evers.”
“Dave’s squeeze from high school?” Miles asked.
“Please, Miles,” Jan scolded, “From what we were told by Mrs. Ricky, Dave loved Marci back then; they were never intimate, and Marci dumped him because she was going to college and wasn’t to be tied down to a Dave Boyington.”
She turned to the board, checking her notes once more before writing, “2001 – Marci Evers in Stoney to sell parents’ house; divorced? Left town in time to go back to Battle Creek teaching; never seen there or here again. (August?)
She underlined the final phrase for emphasis, and then added, “Left Class of ’90 Yearbook with Dave B.”
“They hooked up that summer?” Miles asked.
“According to Mrs. Ricky, it was a real torrid affair with all the signs of becoming a real thing,” Jan looked at me for support.
“I gathered from Mrs. Ricky that she and her husband’s church had reached Dave and he had become a true believer back when he was still in school; and that when Marci Evers came home to settle her parents’ estate, she had been through a divorce and they started seeing each other seriously by the time summer was over.”
Bromwell and Lawton were both scribbling on their notebooks.
Miles looked up first, “You think they both disappeared for the same reason?”
“It made us wonder,” I said.
“Is there anything else?”
“Frank Foster,” Jan said.
“Oh, I’ve heard about this,” Bromwell said. “I was still working down state with MSP. That was the election that made me think it was time to head home.”
Jan inserted Frank Foster’s name between the first Dave Boyington entry and the Marci Evers entry. “Frank Foster – 1999 Runs for election as County Prosecutor. Loses big. Goes home, kisses his mother good night. Next day she finds him and all his belongings gone. Note says he’s leaving to find happiness.”
Everyone sat silently letting that sink in until I said, “He went to Wayne State Law. Interned for a Wayne County Criminal Court Judge and for the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office while he was down there...”
“Where did you learn that?” Miles asked.
“Read it in the old newspaper coverage of the election,” I said with a shrug.
Miles finished his note and sat back in his chair, letting his legs stretch out under the table. He locked his hands behind his head, “Anything else you’re wonderin’ about, Jan?”
“That’s pretty much all of it until this weekend when Paul Ralph disappeared.”
“So, as far as I can summarize at this moment,” Miles said, talking to the ceiling, “We have a series of seemingly unrelated events that have a certain linkage – Detroit or Wayne County; maybe a 1972 unsolved, gangland-style murder in Ferndale; four missing classmates; and now, decades later, a missing parent of another classmate.
“That about sum it up?”
Nobody answered, and after waiting a full minute, he levered himself out of his chair and walked to the white board. “Here’s what we’re going to do, with your help, Sheriff.
“Jan, you and Jim need to return to Mrs. Ralph. I’m – we’re – going to need to talk to you some more, I’m sure. But for now, you’re on the shelf.
“Rick, you and I are going to Stoney tonight and again tomorrow. Meanwhile I’m going to have some folks in Lansing who are real good at this kind of thing, do a full background check on everyone we have on this timeline – that’ll take a day or more, probably two.
“Any questions?”
I started to speak, but he had his hand up, palm out, and I stopped. “You’re on the shelf, Jim. If we need you, we’ll call you. When we understand what we know, I’ll personally bring both of you up to full speed. I – we – really appreciate you two and what you’ve provided here. Now I – we – need to know that you’re butting out, playing cards, hunting birds, whatever. We can’t be wondering what you’re doing in regards to this mystery. Hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Jan said.
“Jim?”
“I’ll go crazy wondering.”
He laughed, “I won’t let that go on for long; I’ll be keeping Mrs. Ralph and Tony appraised of our efforts and I’ll make sure you two know as well. Thanks again.”
CHAPTER 36
It was growing dark as Jan drove us back to the Ralph’s home on Torch Lake, and it was dark in my mind as well.
As she made the turn at the bottom of the lake, she asked, “Want a bite?”
I did. “What’re you thinking?”
“There’s a restaurant right here, isn’t there?”
We pulled into the parking lot and I grabbed my phone to call Tony.
He answered on the first ring, “Ralph here.”
I told him where we were and gave him a real shorthand version of our day’s activities, and then told him we were thinking of grabbing supper and a drink at The Torch Light.
“They have nothing on Dad, do they?” I could hear the heartbreak in his voice.
“Nothing. But they have a plan of action, and Miles is bringing the MSP’s people to bear on the questions our research raised. He also acknowledged to us his responsibility to keep you and your mom in the loop, so I’m sure you’ll be getting a call tonight or tomorrow.”
“Thanks. The Light is as good a place as any, I guess. Maria has plenty of food, and you’re welcome to eat here. Mom and I didn’t have much appetite today...”
“We’ll mooch on you plenty in the next few days... and Jan’s a real good cook, so we can give Maria a hand, too.”
He tried to laugh, but it didn’t come off. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked so you can come in quietly in case my mom finally falls asleep.”
“We’ll be quiet. Is Judy causing any trouble?”
“No; she’s no dummy; she’s almost surgically attached to Maria – the mutt knows where the food comes from.”
I laughed at him, and rang off.
We had a passable meal and arrived at the lake home just before eight. The house was dark except for the front hall light, a light that flickered like a TV screen in an upstairs bedroom, and a nightlight in the kitchen.
We found Judy asleep in her crate in our basement guest room. Jan hit the shower and I took Judy out on the beach. The star show was magnificent, and I made myself dizzy staring at it while the pup made her rounds.
I understood that the next few days at the Ralph’s home would fall into a carefully orchestrated routine of waiting. Once again, I found myself out of the hunt, waiting by the phone, twiddling my thumbs while others were out there chasing the story, planning their strategies and collecting the facts and data that would, when complete, answer all the questions.
Once again, as it had been when I was a desk editor years ago, I was inside while the action was outside. Just like every other time I’d known this experience, I came to the same conclusion: I hated this beyond all comprehension.
CHAPTER 37
I was reading in Paul Ralph’s finely appointed library two days later when Jan came in and sat down next to me on the giant overstuffed sofa.
“Greg Blake’s back at the inn,” she said without preamble.
I put the book, about a tragic ecological incident in the 1970s when a fire retardant, polybrominated biphenyl or PBB, had been mixed into animal feed and distributed throughout the state, causing millions of dollars of damage and untold numbers of health issues as the contaminated and sick animals were culled from the herds and flocks and worked their way into the food chain.
It took me a minute to disengage from the story and connect with Jan, and then I closed the book and asked her, “How’d you learn that?”
“Frannie called, just checking in; she said he’d come home Tuesday night. She sounded relaxed. I might be reading too much into it, but I think she was really concerned for him. She didn’t offer any further explanation, and I didn’t think it my place to
probe.”
“I think you should notify Miles.”
“Me too; I just wanted your take on it. You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?”
“Just Tony telling me that Miles has called daily with nothing new to report. Tony said he thinks Miles and Bromwell are doing the right things as far as he can tell, but I can see the pressure really working on him.”
She was nodding sympathetically, “Betty, too. I think I’ll call Miles right now.”
She left the room, and I settled back with my book, but I’d lost the flow of it, and after a few minutes put it back on the shelf and went looking for my bride.
I found her in the living room, holding her phone and gazing out across the lake.
I sat beside her and while she didn’t look up, her hand found mine and she laced our fingers. We sat like that, wordless, absorbing the total silence of this home until I finally wondered about all that quiet.
I disengaged and left her there as I headed for the kitchen. I went from curious to cautious when I entered that room and found a pot of water boiling on the stove with a bunch of peeled potatoes on a board next to the pot.
I looked into the pantry and found nothing amiss there, and then I turned off the burner and headed for Betty’s room, making sure I made no noise as I climbed the stairs.
Betty wasn’t in her room. The television was tuned to a cooking program, the sound was off. I checked the room, her adjoining closet and the bathroom; nada.
Now I was seriously concerned, and keeping my focus on the present, I felt my heart beat slow, my senses seemed to be attuned to every odor and sound. I realized I needed to return to Jan before I continued my search.
I found her sitting on the couch as I’d left her.
“What’s wrong?” She asked with a look of concern.
“I don’t know. Where’s your purse?”
“In the bedroom, why?”
“Come on.” I was moving in total stealth mode, and she caught on instantly. We went downstairs. Judy was asleep in her crate. Jan went to the closet, and came out with her purse open and a look of fear on her face. “It’s gone!” She whispered.
I led her out the basement door and walked around the house to our vehicle which was parked and locked next to the huge garage that stored the Ralphs’ vehicles and boats.
I clicked the doors unlocked and opened the console. The magnum seven-shot revolver was where it belonged. I checked and found it loaded. I reached back in for a small box of ammo and put that in my pocket as I stuffed the weapon in my belt.
“What’s going on?” Jan whispered.
“I have no idea, but Maria’s not in the kitchen and left water boiling on the stove. Betty’s not in her room, and now I think we’ll find that Tony’s not in his dad’s study working. I needed you with me before I went looking any further.”
“Why’s my gun gone?”
“No idea, come on.”
As we started for the back door, I stopped at a thought, and turned to the regular door to the giant out building.
The place lit up at the flick of the switch inside the door, and I saw at a glance that all the family’s vehicles were where they should be. Still, I took Jan by the arm and led her as I looked into each one of the cars, peeked under the boat cover on the runabout and walked around behind the pontoon barge.
“What are you looking for?” Jan hissed.
“No idea; just looking.” We were at the far end of the building where Paul Ralph had built a “man cave” complete with a bar, television, several comfortable chairs, and a recliner. Another door led to a half bath, and I even checked in there. The place was empty, devoid of threat.
“Let’s go find Tony,” I said quietly, trying to sound casual. At the door, I turned off the lights, and looked through the glass, trying to determine if I dared to be silhouetted in the doorway. I gently steered Jan out of the line of sight as I reached to open the door.
I walked out into the light, and beckoned her to follow me.
“You’re making me totally freaked, Jim.”
“Relax. I’m just being careful for now.”
We were back in the house, headed for the study when I heard a whimper from the coat closet in the hall.
I pushed Jan aside as I opened the door, my revolver in my hand.
Maria was sitting on the floor; her hands tied behind her back and a gag covering her mouth. I put my finger to my lips, and bent down to pull her upright. Once she was standing, I removed the gag, again warning her to be still.
“Gracias, señor,” she sobbed as much as she said, but she kept her voice low. I led her out of the closet, and turned her around to loosen her hands. The knot was not all that tightly tied, and her hands weren’t all puffy like I’d seen others who had been tied this way.
“What happened, Maria?”
“A man, wearing a hood, took me out of the kitchen, tied me up and gagged me, put me in the closet. Told me no one would be injured unless I make noise.”
“When was this?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe an hour ago? I had just put water on to boil for potatoes... What time is it?”
Jan spoke up, “Eleven.”
“Oh, then only twenty minutes or so. What has happened?
“I can’t find Mrs. Ralph; we’re going to the study now to see if Tony’s there. You stay right here, okay?”
“Si.”
I gently pushed Jan in her direction, “Stick with her, okay?”
“No, it’s not o...”
I interrupted her with a finger to my lips, “Just stay here, please.”
She closed her eyes for a long blink, and then nodded as Maria put her arms around her shoulders.
I walked down the hall to the study. The door was mostly closed, just ajar enough that I could gently push it open without making a sound. My pulse was thudding away in its normal tai chi-induced regularity, but my senses were like an over-tightened guitar string, almost making noise without being plucked.
The room was empty. The phone on the desk had been placed on Hold, and the light was flashing in the dimly lit room. I picked up the receiver and pushed the blinking button. The line was dead. Whoever had been on Hold had given up.
I dredged my memory, and then dialed the code to retrieve the last number dialed. It was, as expected, Tony’s office number. I hit Redial.
“Ralph, Bittner and Associates,” the receptionist answered.
“Mr. Ralph, please?”
“Mr. Ralph is not in the office today; would you like his voice mail or can someone else help you?”
I threw caution to the winds and did what a reporter always does, tell a story. “My name’s Jim Stanton. I’m a house guest at the Ralphs’ home on Torch Lake. Tony was on the phone just recently, but now we can’t find him anywhere. I’d like to know who he put on Hold some time ago. Can you help me?”
“It was Mr. Bittner, I believe. I’ll connect you.”
“Well Bittner, Mr. Stanton. Have you called the police?”
“Not yet. Well?”
“Wellston, it’s a long, boring story. I was on the phone, I heard Tony say, ‘Wait a minute; I’m putting you on Hold,’ and then I waited but he didn’t come back, so I figured he was tied up... I really think you’d better call the police, Mr. Stanton.”
“I will, right now; can you tell me what you were talking about?”
“Not really; client confidentiality prohibits it; but it had nothing to do with his family or their issues. It’s a case he had working before all that; I was just briefing him. Please, make the call.”
“Right; thanks.”
“Oh!” I heard him just as I was going to hang up.
“What?”
“Please keep me informed ASAP when you learn anything.”
“I’ll do my best. Goodbye.”
I hung up the phone, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and speed dialed Miles’ cell number. He answered immediately, and I quickly recapped my previous fifteen minutes.
I started to thank him, but, of course, he had hung up.
CHAPTER 38
I heard the helicopter before I saw it; and then I saw a car miles away with lights flashing speeding up the lake road towards the house.
I had taken Maria and Jan down to our room, then carefully went through the whole house before coming back to them and waiting.
“Jim?” I heard Miles calling from upstairs.
“We’re down here, Miles.”
Seconds later he walked into the room with a uniformed deputy in tow. “This is Andy Schmidt, one of Antrim County’s finest,” Miles said in way of introduction. “You check the whole house after we hung up?”
“I did; nothing.”
“Touch anything?”
“I turned off the stove before I fully realized something was wrong; I touched the door knob on the doors and the closet where Maria had been stashed...”
He turned his attention to the servant. “Como esta usted, señora?”
“I’m fine, now señor; I’m just concerned about Mrs. Ralph and her son.”
“There’s one other thing, Miles.”
He turned to me with the question in his eyes.
“Jan’s handgun is missing from her purse.”
“Great,” the investigator groaned. “I push through your permits and you lose track of your weapon?”
He turned back to the house keeper. “Maria, did you recognize the person who put you in the closet?”
“No, señor; he was wearing a hood.”
“That’s not the only way we recognize people.”
“He didn’t say much, señor; he just pointed a handgun at my face, and directed me to turn around. Then he tied me up and gagged me; then he walked me to the closet and sat me down.”