Missing in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  “Got it,” Sam said cutting me off. I glanced at him but couldn’t read his look. Turning right again, I headed up the west hallway.

  “Sorry you got pulled into this,” I said, finally.

  “No problem. Addie, Anna, and Grace have all been really nice to me. I’m happy to help them,” he replied.

  “You prefer working alone, though,” I said flatly and watched his face.

  Sam opened and closed his mouth. Then he smiled. “We’re a team. That’s how Addie wants it and that’s how we’ll solve the two cases. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I agreed and returned his smile.

  We kept walking up the west hallway. “How many rooms are on this floor?” asked Sam.

  “Twenty-eight total but we only rent out eight at a time,” I replied.

  “Why not rent out all the rooms?”

  “We were originally licensed as a B&B. But state law limited us to renting eight rooms at a time with no more than twenty guests in the house. After we got our restaurant license, Grace and Grandma liked how the dinner business grew. They debated getting a small hotel license, which would allow us to rent out all twenty-eight rooms. Dad and Nana Anna worried about the increased staffing we’d need and there were other complications. So eventually, they went ahead and got the license. However, they decided to start out slow and rent out a maximum of ten rooms.”

  Sam grunted. “How many rooms did you rent last night?”

  “We rented out five guest rooms. One each for the Wescotts and Cloutiers. Three rooms for the DeMarcos,” I replied.

  “And how many people?”

  “There were two people in the Wescott’s room and four people in the Cloutier’s room. That included their two young daughters. Tony and Susan DeMarco had a room and Josh and Megan each had their own rooms.”

  Sam nodded. “Are reservations usually that light for Thanksgiving?”

  I shrugged. “It varies from year to year. Generally, people like to eat out for the holidays, but most want to go home afterwards. So this year we don’t have as many B&B guests but we have a lot of dinner reservations. It all balances out.”

  “Got it,” he muttered.

  We reached the end of the west hallway and I turned right again. I stopped at Room 228 and punched in 1488 on the keypad. The deadbolt whirred, unlocked, and I turned the knob. We walked in and stopped to take in the room.

  The Shooting Star was a medium-sized room with a mix of decor. To the right was a reproduction Early American cannonball bed made of tiger maple wood. Betsy Ross lamps sat on the two small maple bedside nightstands. The cotton quilt was a mixture of a traditional chintz and floral design in muted pink, green, white, and yellow. A Civil War era sampler hung on the wall above the bed. Beyond the bed was a vintage French country maple double dresser and mirror.

  To our left, two leather chairs rested in front of the unlit gas fireplace. A braided country rug covered part of the wooden floor. Across the room, a French country writing desk and chair sat against the far wall near the window.

  “What strikes you?” Sam asked.

  I scanned the room a second time. “It’s spotless. The bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in,” I replied.

  He nodded. “Has the room been cleaned already?”

  I went across the room to the small trashcan by the desk and found used Kleenex tissues. “No, Hannah does our housekeeping and she hasn’t been in yet. It looks like Josh is just very neat,” I said.

  “Can you ask that this room not be cleaned until further notice? It’s overkill, but it won’t hurt to keep the room as it is until Josh returns.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” I agreed.

  “Okay, let’s split up and search everything methodically. Look for the missing ring or anything that might be a clue to where Josh went,” Sam said.

  I searched the dresser and desk first. In addition to going through the contents, I also examined every surface of the furniture, in case Josh taped something underneath or on the back. I found nothing there. I dumped the trashcan to confirm there wasn’t anything hidden in the used facial tissues. I even looked under paintings on the walls. I opened the prescription medications he left on the desk, but all I found were pills and capsules.

  Then I moved to the conversation area. I checked the fireplace, the leather chairs, and underneath the braided rug.

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  I moved on to the bathroom. I searched everywhere including in Josh’s shaving kit and came up empty. From the bathroom, I went to the small front closet.

  When I opened the closet door, I was relieved to find some of Josh’s things. At least he plans to come back. I found a pair of blue jeans and a pair of black pants folded neatly on the top shelf. I searched all the pockets and they were empty. I refolded them and returned them to the shelf.

  My eyes drifted down to some sweaters and shirts on hangers. I checked the shirt pockets and found nothing. The last thing I examined was Josh’s brown canvas travel bag, which sat on the closet floor. I moved it into the room and opened zippered pockets on the outside and inside of the bag. I found some tee shirts, a rolled up green sweater, extra socks, and wrinkled underwear. No ring and nothing that would help us find Josh. I repacked the bag and tossed it back on the closet floor.

  “No ring. No nothing,” I said.

  “I found something,” Sam replied, and I joined him by the bed. “These were in one of the nightstand drawers.” He had laid a card and a folded sheet of paper on the bed. Sam handed me a small pocket calendar. “Look at Thanksgiving.”

  I flipped to November and looked at the twenty-seventh. “B-day? Somebody’s birthday?” Sam glanced at me and shrugged. I flipped through the rest of the calendar, but most entries were cryptic abbreviations. A few entries were doctors’ appointments.

  Then I looked at the laminated card. It said, “The only redemptive feature of war is the brotherhood which it forges.” Below the quotation was the name “Max Hastings.”

  Sam pulled out his cellphone and did a quick web search. “Hastings is a British journalist and foreign correspondent.”

  I nodded and put the card back on the bed. When I opened the folded sheet of paper, I saw in neat writing, “Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord.” Then there was a second quotation, “Revenge is a dish best served cold." Underneath that were the names of six men.

  Corporal Malik Brown

  Corporal Marco Velazquez

  Sergeant Victor Hanson

  Private First Class Eddie Brooks

  Lance Corporal Hector Rivera

  Second Lieutenant Tyler Cox

  “Recognize anyone?” asked Sam.

  I reviewed the list a second time and shook my head. “No, but this is creepy. We need to talk to the DeMarcos.”

  Sam pocketed the folded sheet of paper and small calendar. He returned the laminated card to the drawer where he’d found it. We took one last look at the room and turned to leave.

  The quotations about vengeance worried me. Were the lives of these men at risk?

  Chapter 8

  I locked up the room and we went down the back stairs to the first floor and into the dining room. My red-headed cousin, Ryan, was pushing our Oreck upright vacuum cleaner toward the kitchen as Sam and I entered. Ryan and I exchanged grins and waves. Aside from Ryan and Dad, the dining room was empty. Dad hurried over.

  “Any word from Josh?” I asked.

  Dad shook his head. “Do you think he’s connected to Marie Wescott’s missing ring?”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t believe in coincidence. However, I couldn’t see a solid motive for Josh to steal Marie’s ring. He had a loving family he lived with, enough money, and plans for the future. According to his father, he didn’t gamble and didn’t have any outstanding debts or loans. However, Josh did have an opportunity to steal the ring and the next day he unexpectedly left the B&B.

  I looked at Dad. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “So the ring didn’t turn up?” Sam as
ked.

  Dad shook his head. “Not yet. We just vacuumed the entire dining room and didn’t see it. But the vacuum might have sucked it up. Ryan’s going to sift through whatever’s in the vacuum bag. We also vacuumed the Wescott’s room, just in case.”

  “Great idea. Do they know you did that?” I asked. Dad’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Of course. I told them in advance. I said that we had skipped vacuuming their room by mistake during the last room cleaning. Both Marie and Ray said it would be fine to vacuum in there this morning. Any luck upstairs?”

  “I’m not sure. Sam, do you have that list? Dad, do you recognize any of these names?” I asked.

  Sam handed Dad the sheet of paper we’d found in Josh’s room. Dad scanned the paper quickly and then went back over it more slowly.

  Finally, he said, “Interesting quotations. They run the gamut of revenge, don’t they?” Dad commented. Then he shook his head and handed me the sheet of paper. “No, I don’t know any of the names. Who are they?”

  “We’re not sure. We found the list in Josh’s room. Have you seen the DeMarco family? We’d like to talk to them,” Sam said.

  “They were in the front parlor ten minutes ago,” Dad replied. Then he lowered his voice. “Liz, before you go, I wanted to talk to you. I haven’t brought this up with Addie, but if the missing ring isn’t found today, I think we need to notify the police. I’m concerned about how it will look to the insurance company if we delay more than that.”

  I understood his concern, but felt even more stressed out over the shortened timeframe.

  “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, Dad. Give us until Friday. You can always say there was a delay because of the holiday. Plus Marie Wescott asked us to conduct our own search before calling the police. That’s a reasonable explanation for the delay,” I countered.

  Dad squinted, and his jaw worked a bit. Growing up, I’d seen this look countless times. He was thinking through the pros and cons of my alternative. Once a lawyer, always a lawyer.

  “All right, I won’t raise this again until Friday morning,” Dad said and smiled.

  “That’s great. Thanks Dad. You said the DeMarcos were in the front parlor?”

  “Ten minutes ago, more or less.”

  I squeezed his arm and headed for the dining room door. Sam was right behind me. We turned left and walked down the main hallway to the front of the B&B. We didn’t speak. I was thinking about Josh, and Sam seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  When we reached the front parlor, I stopped in the doorway. The room always took my breath away because of its warmth. Golden oak, raised panel walls rose from the floor all the way to the cream-colored ceiling. Three bronze chandeliers with twelve alabaster shades each provided overhead lighting. The floor was wide plank oak. We used reproduction historical floorcloths with Tree of Life, Amish tulip, and Early American flower designs on the floor to mark off conversation areas.

  Built-in bookshelves on the north wall overflowed with books, games, and jigsaw puzzles for the guests. Dad had also set up a big table along the south wall for a communal puzzle. People would sit or stand and add pieces here or there. The current project was a thousand-piece puzzle called the Hound of the Baskervilles by Charles Wysocki.

  To our left was the fireplace conversation area. Two floral couches were positioned perpendicular to the fireplace. They sat opposite each other across a large wooden coffee table. To complete the conversation area, two green leather easy chairs faced the fireplace and the coffee table.

  In the center of the room, there was a round mahogany table and six mahogany armchairs. It was a popular spot for guest discussions, cards, and board games. We thought of this as the “central” conversation area.

  To the right, at the far end of the parlor, was the library conversation area. Each wall had built-in bookshelves filled with books. This seating area had a black leather couch, coffee table, and two black leather easy chairs.

  The parlor had other easy chairs and small tables for guests who wanted to sit by themselves and read or relax.

  I took a deep breath and headed for the library conversation area where Tony and Susan DeMarco sat on the black couch facing us. Their daughter, Megan, slouched in one of the easy chairs across from them. Tony and Susan watched expectantly as Sam and I walked up.

  “Any news?” Tony asked, starting to stand.

  “No, not yet. We just have a couple more questions,” I replied, sitting in the chair next to Megan. Tony dropped back down to the couch. Sam sat at the end of the couch next to Susan DeMarco.

  “Mr. DeMarco, you said Josh was in the Marines. What was his rank?” Sam asked.

  “Please, call me Tony. Josh was a Sergeant. He was a squad leader,” Tony replied. I heard the pride in his voice.

  Sam nodded. “We looked in Josh’s room and found this calendar. He marked tomorrow as ‘B-day.’ Is tomorrow somebody’s birthday?” Sam asked and handed Susan the pocket calendar. It was open to November. She looked at the notation on the twenty-seventh and shook her head. Then she handed Tony the calendar.

  “I don’t know what that means. It’s not a birthday I recognize,” Tony replied. He reached over Susan and handed the calendar back to Sam.

  “Megan? Does ‘B-day’ mean anything to you?” I asked, turning to look at her. Megan looked confused and frowned at me.

  “No, I don’t know what that means other than birthday. Nobody I know has a birthday on Thanksgiving,” Megan replied, and her parents nodded.

  “Okay. We also found this paper in Josh’s room. Do you recognize any of these names?” Sam asked and handed the sheet of paper to Susan. Tony leaned over and they both looked at the names.

  “These are all friends of Josh who were killed in combat,” Tony replied. “Josh reported to Lieutenant Cox and liked him a lot. The Lieutenant was killed in an ambush. Vic Hanson was a friend of Josh’s from Marquette University. After enlisting in the Marines at the same time, they eventually deployed to different units in Afghanistan. Vic and some other Marines were killed by an IED, a roadside bomb. It hit Josh hard because he and Vic had talked about the things they’d do after their service. Things like hunting and fishing. These other guys were in Josh’s squad at one time or another. They also didn’t make it home.”

  “What about the quotations about vengeance?” I asked.

  Tony and Susan both squinted at the paper. “The first one is Biblical, of course,” Susan said. “Don’t take justice into your own hands. God will avenge all wrongs.”

  “And the second?” I prompted.

  Susan’s lips tightened. “ ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold,’ ” she read. “You’ve certainly heard that quote before. I don’t understand what Josh was thinking about specifically, though.”

  “That’s his handwriting?” I asked. Tony and Susan both nodded.

  “It is,” Tony replied. He refolded the paper and leaned over to return it to Sam.

  “But he never mentioned those particular quotations?” asked Sam.

  “No,” Susan replied. Tony and Megan shook their heads.

  Sam lowered his voice even though we were the only people in the parlor. “Did Josh have any reason to avenge the deaths of these men?”

  All three of the DeMarcos said, “No!”

  “Josh is kind. He’d never hurt anyone,” Megan said, her face flushed with anger.

  “Where are you going with this?” Tony asked. He started to stand up again, but Susan grabbed his left arm and pulled him back down on the couch.

  “I’m just trying to understand what we found. It may help us to locate your son,” Sam replied. He had turned on the couch so that he was facing Tony and Susan.

  “Why did Josh leave the Marines?” I asked.

  Tony and Susan’s eyes returned to me.

  “He said he was tired of the military and just wanted out,” Tony replied. “His commander encouraged him to stay in and make a career of the Corps. Josh said, ‘No.’ He was done with combat and taking orders.”


  Susan wiped her eyes and then clenched her hands together. “I think Josh must have been feeling some symptoms of traumatic stress while he was in the service and that was also why he wanted out. He couldn’t take it anymore. He told us that toward the end of his tour he was nervous all the time and had nightmares. He was afraid he wouldn’t make it home.”

  “Josh isn’t some crazy person,” Megan said suddenly, glaring at her parents. “Sure, he had problems, but he got treatment. He’s going back to Marquette to be a teacher. He has friends and is happier now.”

  “We never ever said or thought Josh was crazy,” Tony said sharply. He gave Megan a stern look.

  “Why would you say that?” Susan asked her daughter.

  “Because sometimes you talk about Josh like he’s fragile and about to fall apart,” Megan snapped back.

  “Enough!” Tony said firmly and Megan sat back, folding her arms. Susan stared at her daughter and slowly shook her head.

  “Josh is not crazy,” Susan replied. “But he did go through a trauma that hurt him physically and emotionally. We can’t ignore that or pretend it didn’t happen.” Megan didn’t meet her mother’s eyes.

  I waited a beat and said, “Let’s change gears. Is there a chance the family of one of those men on the list lives around here and Josh went to visit them?”

  After exchanging a look with Susan, Tony shrugged. “We don’t know, but if that was something Josh planned to do, he would have said something.”

  Sam cleared his throat. “You said he was going back to Marquette. Was he worried at all about the expense of college?”

  “Not at all. The GI Bill will take care of everything,” Susan replied.

  “We covered this before. Josh had no financial worries,” Tony added in a tight voice.

  “Okay, this has been helpful,” Sam said and stood. I followed his lead. “One more thing,” he added. “If Josh calls any of you, Liz and I need to know right away. No delays.”