by J A Whiting
“Sure,” Glenn nodded. “She claimed to be at her sister’s house and the sister backed her up.”
“Was there anyone else with them at Lisa’s sister’s house?” Ian questioned.
“The women told us they were alone at the house,” Glenn said. “They could have been lying.”
“What about Cheryl? Was she involved with anyone?”
Glenn made a slight noise in his throat. “Cheryl seemed straight-out with the business and the kids. I don’t see how she could have fit in having an affair.”
“Did you question Cheryl’s friend, Jason Spencer?” Ian asked.
“The car dealership owner. Yeah, we did. He claimed he was only friends with Cheryl. We found some people in the MBA program Cheryl and Jason were in and they reported that Jason had a thing for Cheryl. He was sort of obsessed with her.”
“We spoke to him the other day,” Ian said. “Jason denied wanting more than friendship with Cheryl. He said they were friends … period.”
Claire asked, “Do you know where Jason was at the time Cheryl went missing?”
“He said he was in his office at the dealership,” Glenn said. “No one else was there so he didn’t have anyone who could vouch for his whereabouts.”
“A tangled web,” Ian sighed.
Claire looked across the yard at nothing in particular.
A web with a spider sitting smack in the middle.
But who was it?
12
Ian and Glenn rode back to the Boston police station together while Claire walked towards Nicole’s old car parked at the curb in front of the Wilbys’ former house. The car was twelve years old and showed its age with dings and a few dents, but the engine kept going and Nicole said once it died, she wouldn’t get another car because it was a pain to have a vehicle in the city. The old thing just wouldn’t die though which suited Claire just fine because when they needed to drive somewhere the trusty auto was ready and waiting for them.
A man holding a rake was standing at the side of his front lawn and he gave Claire a nod and a wave. “Afternoon.”
Claire returned the greeting.
“Is everything okay at the house?” the man asked with a worried expression. “I saw the police car. Are Jennifer and Dave okay?”
For a moment, Claire was confused about who the man was asking about, but it dawned on her he meant the two people who lived in the rented house, and she replied, “Oh, yes. They’re both at work. They’re fine. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
Tall and energetic, the man, who looked to be in his seventies, walked over to Claire. “Were those two men detectives?”
Claire nodded.
“Oh.” The man rested his hands on top of the end of the rake. “Is it about Cheryl?”
Claire searched the man’s face. “Did you live here back when the Wilbys lived in the house?”
“We did. We’ve been here a long time. I’m Joe Magnuson. My wife and I lived here when Cheryl disappeared.” Joe shook his head. “A terrible, terrible thing. Cheryl was wonderful. We liked her so much. It was a horrible blow to us to hear that she’d gone missing. I saw in the news the other day that John won a civil suit against Jackson.”
“He did, yes.”
“Good.” Joe’s face darkened. “I didn’t like Jackson much. He seemed full of himself. I could tell the family wouldn’t stay here long. Once Jackson made big money, my wife and I knew he’d want to move to a fancy house. He was a showoff. Not Cheryl, she wasn’t like that at all. She was as nice as could be. And the little boy … we loved that kid.” Joe looked hopefully at Claire. “Have they found something about Cheryl?”
“They haven’t, I’m sorry to say.”
“Has Cheryl’s case been reopened?”
“The police are taking another look at it,” Claire told the man.
“Good. Maybe they can get to the bottom of it. My wife and I were heartsick when it happened. We hoped and hoped Cheryl would come back home.”
“Did you socialize with the Wilbys?” Claire asked.
“Not really. We went to a few cookouts they had. They were always a good time. I played catch with John with a soft kiddy ball. He loved it. I can still see the smile on that little boy’s face.”
“Who else went to the cookouts?”
“Some of the other neighbors, some people they worked with.”
“Do you remember some of the people they worked with?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, I remember most of them. There was that car dealer guy, too, who has a bunch of dealerships in the state. Jason something or other. He was a friend of Cheryl’s from graduate school. I remember a woman named, Lisa, but I forget her last name. She’s an accountant, she worked for Cheryl and Jackson’s company, but she has her own firm now. There was also a nice woman named Maryann who worked at their company who always came to the cookouts. I remember her because she had beautiful, natural red hair. She was very friendly and was pleasant to talk to. My wife enjoyed chatting with her.”
A woman came out of the house and walked across the lawn to Joe and Claire.
“I’m Gillian, Joe’s wife,” she said with a wide smile. “Be careful,” she winked and nodded towards her husband, “or he’ll talk your ear off.”
Claire chuckled.
“We’re talking about Cheryl, and the cookouts we used to go to at their house,” Joe told his wife.
“Those were fun afternoons,” Gillian said wistfully. “Poor Cheryl. What in the world happened to her?”
“The police are looking into the case again,” Joe reported.
“I’m thankful for that. Maybe with the technology they have today, they can get a break in the case and find out what happened.”
“Your husband was telling me about some of the people who were at the cookouts you went to,” Claire explained.
“Who did you remember?” Gillian asked Joe.
Joe told her.
“Maryann was great. Such a terrific personality. The car salesman was okay, a little boring.” Gillian’s eyes narrowed and she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “He had a crush on Cheryl. It was plain as day. He should have been subtler than he was.”
“What did he do that was so obvious?” Claire asked.
“He followed her around like a puppy. He was always trying to help her. There’s nothing wrong with that, but his way was too fawning. He seemed a little pathetic, and for Pete’s sake, Cheryl’s husband was standing right there. Maryann was great, a sincerely nice person.”
Claire focused the talk back on Jason. “How did Cheryl react to Jason’s fawning over her?”
“She ignored him,” Gillian said and then corrected herself. “Not in a mean way. Cheryl was nice to the guy, but she pretended not to notice his crush on her. I thought it was a good way to deal with him. Pretend you’re oblivious.”
Joe said, “And don’t forget that Lisa, the accountant, seemed to be infatuated with Jackson. She’d gaze at him like he was a god. She was always looking him in the eye and smiling at him, touching her hair, giggling at him. She wasn’t subtle either. It was kind of amusing to watch.”
Claire smiled at the couple and then asked, “Were you home the night Cheryl went missing?”
“We were,” Joe replied as his jovial mood seemed to dissipate. “It was cold as heck. There was snow on the ground. We have a sitting room on this side of the house.” The man gestured. “We sit in there reading or watching television in the evenings. We saw Cheryl’s car go into the garage and a couple of hours later, Jackson came home.”
“You have good memories from twenty-five years ago,” Claire noted.
“We wouldn’t be able to recall an evening from so long ago if there hadn’t been a tragedy attached to it,” Gillian said. “We’ve discussed it over and over, the things that happened that night. We talked with the police about it. That night is seared into our brains because Cheryl disappeared.”
A buzz of electricity danced over Claire’s skin. “Do you rememb
er other things from the night?”
“That blond friend of Cheryl’s came by,” Joe said.
“Lisa. She’s the accountant,” Gillian clarified.
“She came to visit the Wilbys?” Claire felt her heartbeat speed up.
“I don’t know if she came to visit or if she dropped something off from the office,” Gillian said.
“You saw her car?”
“She drove down the driveway, parked, and went to the side door,” Joe said. “I’m a car man … I love cars, always have. I knew it was Lisa’s car.”
Gillian smiled. “We’re not spies or anything. Our chairs and a sofa are positioned in a way that gives us a good view of the driveway and the side door that leads into the kitchen. We’re not spying on the neighbors. We like the furniture arrangement because we’re close to the natural light coming in through the windows and we can see the television screen without any glare on it.”
Joe grinned. “We also like where the chairs are placed because it helps us spy on the neighbors.”
“Did Lisa go inside the Wilbys’s house?”
“Yes, she did,” Joe said.
“Did she stay long?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes? I dozed off for a few minutes, and when I woke up I saw her car leaving the driveway.”
“Did you see Cheryl’s car leave?”
“Sure. It was about fifteen or twenty minutes later.”
“Did you tell the police that you saw the cars?”
“I did.” Joe’s face fell. “I guess what we told them didn’t matter since they never found Cheryl.”
“Did you get a sense of Cheryl’s and Jackson’s relationship?” Claire asked.
Gillian answered the question. “We didn’t like Jackson all that much. I always wondered what Cheryl saw in him. He was so full of himself. He wouldn’t give you the time of day if he didn’t think he could get something out of interacting with you. From listening to him, it was clear Jackson was materialistic and a social climber. He wanted to be a bigshot.”
Joe shook his head. “He got his wish, didn’t he?”
“Sure, he’s a bigshot now, but he lost his wife and daughter and his son is estranged from him,” Gillian said. “I wouldn’t trade places with the man.”
“I’d trade bank accounts though,” Joe kidded his wife.
Claire wasn’t sure what part of the conversation had her senses buzzing, but she was sure what Joe and Gillian told her was going to be important.
13
The day was sunny and warm and Claire, Ian, Nicole and Ryan decided to go for a sail on the Charles River. They spent a couple of hours sailing around before heading to the docks and walking to a park for a picnic.
Sitting in the shade of a tree, the foursome enjoyed sandwiches on ciabatta bread with mozzarella, olive spread, roasted red peppers, and tomatoes, mini-sized egg frittatas, crunchy homemade coleslaw, and apricot cheesecake squares for dessert.
After eating, Claire and Nicole leaned against the tree sipping seltzers with lime while the men stretched out on the blanket to relax. In a few minutes, Ian and Ryan had both fallen asleep.
“These two are working too many late nights.” With a smile, Nicole nodded at the napping men, and then asked, “How did the visit to the Wilbys’s former house go? Was it creepy to be in there?”
“It did make me uneasy,” Claire admitted. “I think I picked up on emotions that still linger in the house. Either that, or I scared myself into thinking I felt things.”
“What did you sense?”
“Fear, anger, tempers flaring. My throat got really tight and my chest felt heavy and it was really hard to breathe for a few moments.”
Nicole shifted her position to better face her friend. “Do you think Cheryl might have been strangled? Is that why your throat closed up on you?”
“I think it’s possible.” Claire subconsciously reached for her neck. “When I was standing in the kitchen of the house, I suddenly had the urge to duck like someone was trying to hit me or throw something at me.”
“Were you able to see anything from years ago? Did you experience any visions?”
Claire shook her head. “I saw a flash of light, but I didn’t have any visual awareness of the past. It was all just sensations.” After taking a sip from her glass, she said, “When I was leaving the former Wilby residence, I ran into the neighbors, Joe and Gillian Magnuson. They’ve lived next door for about thirty years.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “Really? Did they know Cheryl and Jackson back then?”
“They did, and they were at home in their den on the evening Cheryl went missing,” Claire explained.
“Did they see anything that night?” Nicole sat crossed-legged on the grass and looked eagerly at her friend.
“They did. Joe told me he was dozing in an easy chair by the window while watching television and saw Lisa Richardson pull into the driveway and go into the Wilbys’s house. Joe said she was only there for about fifteen minutes before he saw her car drive away. He dozed again, but noticed Cheryl’s car leave the garage about twenty minutes later.”
“Interesting,” Nicole said. “Why was Lisa at the house?”
“She could have been dropping off some paperwork from the office. She didn’t stay long according to the neighbors.”
“Jackson and Cheryl must have fought after Lisa was there,” Nicole speculated, “since Cheryl’s car left the garage about twenty minutes after Lisa stopped by.”
“That’s right,” Claire nodded. “I wonder if Lisa was the cause of the argument.”
“Lisa’s appearance at their house could have triggered a fight between Jackson and Cheryl. Cheryl may have accused Jackson of being unfaithful with Lisa, heated words were probably exchanged and then a physical fight broke out. Lisa might have been the catalyst for fiery emotions to flare.”
“But what happened to Cheryl after she left the house after Jackson struck her?” Claire asked.
Nicole sighed and watched the boats glide by on the river. “Maybe she really did come in contact with a carjacker. Maybe an unfortunate twist of fate led Cheryl into the path of a killer.”
Claire shivered at the words.
“If that’s what happened, how will Ian ever figure it out?” Nicole asked.
“Maybe someone who saw what happened will come forward and report it. Or maybe the detectives will find Cheryl’s body.”
Nicole frowned. “Or maybe the killer will turn himself in.”
“I know solving this thing is a long-shot,” Claire admitted. “But we have to try.”
Later in the day, Ian and Claire met John Wilby in a pub in Cambridge to discuss where the case stood.
“Have you found out anything new on my mother’s case?” John sipped from a cold mug of beer.
“We’ve been interviewing people who knew your mother and father,” Ian said. “We’re going through the case files and we’re trying to add more facts and details.”
John looked crestfallen as his shoulders drooped. “I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s been more than two decades. The police couldn’t solve it back then. Leads have gone cold. It’s unlikely anything new will turn up.”
“Cold cases do get solved,” Claire encouraged the young man. “There’s always the chance that something new will turn up, that someone will recall a little detail that years ago, seemed insignificant. One little thing can make all the difference. That one thing can be the turning point.”
John gave a nod. “I can’t give up. Not yet.”
“We’ll keep digging,” Ian said.
“Have you talked to Jackson?” It seemed hard for John to get his father’s name out of his mouth.
“We did,” Ian told him.
“Did he stick to the same story he’s been telling for twenty-five years?”
“Pretty much. We aren’t free to discuss with anyone the interviews we do with witnesses or suspects.”
John nodded. “Did he tell you why he thought it was a good ide
a to leave an infant and a three-year-old alone in the house that night?”
“Jackson wanted to drive around to look for your mother,” Ian explained.
“Ever the selfless man.” John’s eyes clouded. “Jackson didn’t care about me or Kim. I imagine him frantically driving around in the dark. Not frantic that my mother ran out of the house and was gone. Frantic because Jackson didn’t want any negative publicity sticking to him.”
Ian and Claire sat in silence, not really knowing what to say.
“My mind is always thinking about it,” John said. “I think back on the night and try to recall the sounds and sights of the experience. I was too little to correctly process what happened, but maybe, I’ll remember something new that will be able to help with the investigation.”
“Why do you think you told officers that your mother was in the church parking lot that night?” Ian questioned. “Do you think it was because she often helped out at church and you pictured her there?”
John considered the possibility. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I thought she put the car there. I don’t even remember saying that to the police.”
“And what about what you said about a cat?” Claire asked. “You said your father kicked the cat, but your family didn’t own a cat.”
Again, John shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t recall telling the investigators that either.”
Claire smiled. “It’s okay. You were very little. Kids get confused.”
John’s face looked pained. “I was there when my mother got hurt. Why can’t I be more helpful? I must have heard or seen more than I can remember.”
“Would you be willing to speak to a hypnotist?” Claire asked gently.
John sat straight with a look of disbelief. “Can that really help?”
“It can,” Claire said. “Some things are held deep in the mind. Some things want to stay hidden and quiet so they don’t bubble up and cause pain. There are people who are trained to gently nudge those thoughts out into the open. It might be helpful in this case, especially because you were so young when you experienced the trauma of losing your mother.”