by Parnell Hall
Aaron Grant said, “Miss Felton, this may be nothing, but your friend Vicki Tanner is missing. The police obviously aren’t taking it that seriously if they haven’t even called you. But her husband’s quite upset, and—”
“Of course he is. Let’s go find her.”
“What?”
“If the police aren’t going to find her, we have to. Why don’t you come pick me up.”
“Now?”
“What, you’re afraid of the dark? You’d like to wait till tomorrow, perhaps? Sherry and I will go with you. Come pick us up.”
“Aunt Cora—” Sherry protested, but Aaron Grant had already hung up the phone.
23
“You’re not going to wear that dress.”
Cora Felton lit a cigarette, took a drag, blew out the smoke. “I most certainly am. This is not a date. I’m working here.”
“Drink your coffee.”
“I don’t need coffee.”
“You need something. You can barely walk.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“Aunt Cora. You’ve gotta understand. This is a newspaper reporter. Newspaper reporter. Those are the people we try very hard to make a good impression on.”
“I think he likes you.”
“Aunt Cora. You’re not listening.”
“Yes, I am. You’re talking about that handsome young reporter.” Cora Felton took a sip of coffee, cocked her head. “And you’re afraid I’ll mess up your chances with him.”
“That is not what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid you’ll blow your image. Then you won’t have a puzzle column anymore, and then we won’t be able to afford this house.”
“You worry too much.”
“Because you don’t worry at all. I’m shouldering the whole load.”
“And very nicely too, dear,” Cora Felton said. She frowned at her cup. “Do you suppose you could spike this coffee just a touch?”
“Aunt Cora.”
“Just a thought.”
“What a nightmare. Won’t you change that dress?”
“Why? He’s not coming to see me. You can change if you want, but there’s no need. You look good in a T-shirt and blue jeans. I bet he finds them sexy.”
“Aunt Cora.”
“I wonder what he’s wearing this time of night. Surely not a suit and tie.”
“Really,” Sherry said. “The things you think of.”
Headlights pulled into the driveway, cast shadows through the front window.
“Here he is,” Cora Felton said. “No time to change now. It’s a come-as-you-are-when-invited party.”
She set the coffee cup down, shuffled through the living room, and went out the front door. Sherry trailed along behind.
Aaron Grant stood by the open door of his car. He was wearing a short-sleeved cotton pullover sports shirt with collar, and a pair of dark slacks. Sherry was irritated with herself for noticing, and blamed her aunt for bringing it up.
Aaron Grant waved. “Hi, are you ready? Let’s go.”
Cora Felton crossed the front lawn in long strides, talking as she went. “There you are, young man, nice to see you again. Please forgive my dress, Sherry said I should change, but then this isn’t a social occasion, is it? I’ll just sit in the back if you don’t mind. Sherry, you sit up front. Hop in, hop in. You can tell us all about it as we go.”
Cora Felton climbed into the backseat and slammed the door shut, leaving Sherry Carter alone with Aaron Grant.
Sherry didn’t know what to say. She felt like apologizing for her aunt, but realized doing so would be wrong. She also felt like telling Aaron Grant this wasn’t her idea, but then he knew that, and there was such a thing as protesting too much. So Sherry mutely marched to the passenger door, flung it open, and got in.
The engine was still running. Aaron Grant hopped in, threw the car into reverse, and backed out of the driveway.
“Where are we going?” Cora Felton asked.
“The Country Kitchen,” Aaron Grant said. “I thought we’d start there, try to trace Mrs. Tanner’s route home.”
“Isn’t that what the police are doing?”
“Probably.”
“Then we should do something else.”
“Like what?”
“Actually,” Cora Felton said, “the Country Kitchen’s not that bad an idea. I’ll go in, interview the bartender, find out what time Vicki left.”
“We know what time she left,” Sherry Carter intervened. “You know when she left. You saw her leave.”
“I didn’t note the time. Wouldn’t the time be an important factor in this case?” Cora inquired mildly.
“Perhaps,” Aaron Grant said. “But you’re right about not duplicating the police, Miss Felton. Questioning the bartender is the first thing they’ll do, so we should do something else. I just thought the Country Kitchen was a good place to start driving from, but there’s no reason to go inside.”
“Is that so?” Cora Felton said. “But what if Vicki Tanner never left at all? What if she said good-bye and then went in the bathroom? Then she came out later after we’d gone, and she’s sitting at the bar right now.”
“Are you serious?” Aaron Grant said.
“No, she’s not,” Sherry said irritably. “She’s just trying to get her own way.”
“Well, I like that,” Cora Felton said. “Here I am, only trying to help …”
“You can help with her car,” Aaron said. “You happen to know what kind she drives?”
“Blue Nissan. I don’t know the license number.”
“Would you know it if you saw it?”
“The car or the license number?”
“Either.”
“I’d probably know the car. The license number I never paid attention to.”
“Then it’s not a vanity plate. If she had a word on the license plate, you’d probably have noticed.”
“I suppose.”
“Anyway, let’s keep a lookout for the car.”
The Country Kitchen was on the other side of town. Aaron Grant cruised down the main street. The shops were all closed that time of night, and there were very few parked cars. Vicki Tanner’s was not among them. Neither was Sam Brogan’s. There was a light on in the police station, but no car out front.
“See,” Aaron Grant said. “The police car’s gone. Sam Brogan’s out investigating this.”
“Who?” Sherry said.
“Sam Brogan. That’s the police officer who tipped me off. He’s probably at the Country Kitchen now.”
“Maybe we should go there,” Cora Felton said.
Sherry took a breath, but held her tongue.
Just outside of town Aaron Grant spotted the police car coming from the opposite direction. He hit the horn, flashed his lights, and the police car braked to a stop. Aaron pulled up next to it, rolled down the window as Sam Brogan rolled down his.
“Any luck?” Aaron asked.
Sam Brogan shook his head. “No. Bartender says she left hours ago.”
“Any chance he’s wrong and she’s still there?”
“Not at all. The place is empty. They’re getting ready to close. I’m just trying to spot her car.”
“Got a description?”
“Blue Nissan. Connecticut plate, M S seven nine six eight. If you spot it, call in. I don’t feel like driving around all night.” Sam Brogan jerked his thumb. “Who you got there?”
“One of the women she was playing cards with. And her niece. Where’s the husband?”
“At home. He wanted to come along, but I told him what if she came back and no one’s there?”
“You could have left a note.”
“Hey, you think I want him driving me nuts? Anyway, you find her, you call the station so the chief can radio me to go home.”
“Chief Harper’s at the station?”
“No. He’s home. Call forwarding’s on. Just make sure you call. I don’t need this.”
Sam Brogan rolled up the window and drove off
.
“Well,” Aaron said, “that’s that. We’re duplicating his actions. But I don’t know any other way to start. We’re almost to the Country Kitchen. Let’s turn around there, start tracing her path like Sam is. And anything we can do different is all to the good.”
In a couple of minutes they reached the Country Kitchen. The restaurant, styled to look like an oversized, sprawling log cabin, still had lights on, but the parking lot was nearly deserted. The few cars left probably belonged to the help. There was certainly no blue Nissan. Even so, Aaron pulled into the lot, circled it once before driving out.
“Okay,” Aaron said. “Keep your eyes open. If you have any suggestions, please speak up.”
They drove slowly back toward town. It was an open road, with only a scattering of houses. Nonetheless, in half a mile Cora Felton counted no less than four TAG SALE signs in the driveways, three proclaiming sales on Saturday and one on Sunday. Cora was sure some of the signs had been up ever since she’d moved in. A cynical New Yorker, Cora had an image of the Bakerhaven faithful assembling eagerly every weekend to buy each other’s junk.
“Closed garage,” Cora said.
“What?” Aaron said.
“That house has a closed garage. The car could be in there.”
“There’s a car in the driveway.”
“Sure. That’s the guy who owns the house. What if she drove up, put her car in the garage?”
“Why would she do that?”
“Are you kidding? So her husband wouldn’t drive by and see her car.”
“You think she’s having an affair?”
“No, I don’t. Frankly, it would be a huge relief. This isn’t like her at all.”
“Well, keep looking. We’re not quite ready to start breaking into people’s garages.”
A mile down the road they caught up with Sam Brogan. He was driving slowly, and shining the searchlight into people’s driveways.
“Not too subtle,” Sherry commented.
“No, but effective,” Aaron said. “If her car’s there, he’ll spot it.”
A little farther down the road the Bakerhaven elementary school came up on the right. Sam Brogan drove on by.
“Turn in there,” Cora Felton said.
“What?” Aaron Grant said.
“Let’s check out the parking lot.”
“There’s nothing in the parking lot.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you want to check it out?”
“Because the cop didn’t. Come on, let’s check out the school.”
Aaron Grant drove in and circled the parking lot. There were no cars.
“How about around back?” Cora suggested.
“There’s no parking lot around back.”
“So? Can you drive back there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.”
Aaron Grant drove to the edge of the school parking lot. The asphalt path continued on around the building. He drove onto it, circled around to the back.
His headlights lit up a car.
It was unanimous. All three of them said, “Look!”
All they could see was the bright lights reflecting off the back of the car parked behind the school. Aaron dimmed the headlights. Now through the back window they could see someone moving inside the other car. Quickly. Hurriedly. A minute later the engine roared and the car sprang to life and shot out of there.
“That’s not her,” Sherry said.
“No, it isn’t,” Aaron Grant said. “It’s kids parking. We must have scared them to death.”
“How do you know that?” Sherry asked.
“Don’t be silly,” Cora said. “He’s obviously parked here himself.”
Both Sherry and Aaron Grant chose to ignore this comment. Which only emphasized it. Into the awkward silence, Cora Felton said brightly, “What shall we do now?”
“Well,” Sherry said, “we could drive out to Vicki’s house and talk to her husband.”
“I suppose we could,” Aaron Grant said.
“What good would that do?” Cora said. “All he knows is she’s not there.”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
Cora Felton thought a moment. “Let’s check out the high school.”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t the high school back the way we came?”
“Yeah. It’s on the other side of the Country Kitchen.”
“Fine. Let’s check it out.”
“The other side of the Country Kitchen?” Sherry said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “About a half mile down the road.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“That’s the opposite direction she would have gone.”
“If she went home,” Cora said. “But she obviously didn’t.”
“Yes, but she was on her way home. Isn’t that right? She said good-bye to you, and she was going home. There’s no reason she would have gone the other way.”
“Maybe not,” Cora said, “but that’s precisely the reason to check it out. We want to do what the police aren’t doing. They are not looking in that direction. So let’s go back to the Country Kitchen and ask ourselves, what if she came out the driveway and turned right?”
“Fine by me,” Aaron Grant said.
He drove out of the elementary school parking lot and turned left, back the way they came. A few minutes later they passed the Country Kitchen. The lights were out and the last cars were leaving. They drove on down the road, checking the cars in the driveway of each house.
A couple of miles down the road they came to a soccer field in front of the high school, which was set back from the road. Aaron Grant turned in the drive, drove past the goal and up to the front doors.
The Bakerhaven high school had a circle out front for the buses to turn around in. The parking lot was in the back. Aaron Grant drove there, and once again they all said, “Look!”
Only this time it was a blue Nissan.
“Is that the plate?” Sherry asked.
“That’s it.”
Cora Felton was already out of the car. Aaron and Sherry were right behind.
“I wouldn’t touch anything,” Aaron warned.
Cora ignored him and tried the door handle. “Locked,” she reported. “And it appears to be empty.”
“Appears?” Sherry said.
“We haven’t looked in the trunk.”
“Cora!”
“It’s not so far-fetched,” Aaron Grant said. “Here’s the car in a deserted parking lot. It doesn’t look good.”
“We better call it in,” Cora said. “Where’s the nearest phone?”
“Right here,” Aaron Grant said. He went to his car, pulled his cellular phone out of the glove compartment, and called the police. With call forwarding on, he got Mrs. Harper, who wasn’t eager to disturb her husband, but eventually Chief Harper came to the phone.
“Chief, it’s Aaron Grant. You wanna tell Sam Brogan I just found Vicki Tanner’s car.”
“What?”
“We found her car. In the high school parking lot. It’s locked, and there’s no sign of her.”
“Who’s we?”
“I got Cora Felton and Sherry Carter with me.”
“Oh? You mind telling me why?”
“Well, they were worried about her. Actually, it was Cora Felton who found the car.”
“Uh huh. Any sign of foul play?”
“No, there’s just the car. It’s locked and there’s nothing in it.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Sam.”
Aaron Grant stuck the phone back in the glove compartment and turned around to find Cora Felton standing there. She had a strange expression on her face.
“What is it?” he said.
Cora Felton sighed.
“I know where Vicki is.”
24
Chief Harper pulled his car to a stop in front of the cemetery gate and got out.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
Aaron Grant jerked his thumb. “Same place.”
“Same grave?”
“That’s right.”
“Who’s there now?”
“Sam Brogan and the women.”
“And you found it?”
“We found it, we called you. Just like I said.”
“When’d Sam get here?”
“Right before you.”
“Uh huh. How do I get in?”
“Over the fence.”
“Great.”
It wasn’t hard. The fence was only four feet high. Chief Harper hopped over, snapped on his flashlight, headed for the grave.
“Over here,” a voice called.
He shone his light to see Cora Felton waving at him. He walked up, stopped, shone the light on the grave.
The body of Vicki Tanner lay facedown next to the gravestone, just the way the other body had lain. Her head was twisted to the side. Her eye was open. Her shoes and socks were missing.
Chief Harper felt light-headed, had to take a deep breath to steady himself. All right, he told himself. This doesn’t seem real, but it is. So get a grip. Never mind how much it seems the same, how is it different?
The big difference was it wasn’t raining. Chief Harper was grateful for that fact, although he actually felt a pang of guilt at how pleasant the thought was.
The other difference was her clothes. The girl had been wearing blue jeans and a shirt. Vicki Tanner wore a simple cotton dress.
“I haven’t touched her,” Sam Brogan told him. “This is just the way we found her.”
“You call the doctor?”
“He’s on his way. I called her husband too, to make the ID.”
“Good,” Harper said, but he wished Sam hadn’t. The husband would just be in the way. Cora Felton could make the ID.
With that idea, he turned to her. “It is her, isn’t it, Miss Felton?”
“It’s her, all right.”
“How’d you happen to find her?”
“We just looked and here she was.”
“Uh huh. And how’d you happen to look here?”
“Just a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Chief Harper repeated. Miss Felton seemed coherent, but he could smell liquor on her breath. “You want to elaborate on that?”
“When we found her car I was worried. I was afraid something had happened to her. Then it occurred to me, if something had, she’d be here.”