by Dale Mayer
But then again Crystal had been a missing person’s case. It wasn’t like she was a dead body buried somewhere with a toe tag and a cold case number. And that made all the difference too. Doreen walked back into the kitchen and brought out the Solomon files again, more determined than ever to not forget whatever was here. She painstakingly typed a list of all the names on the folders. She was surprised Solomon didn’t have one already prepared in here, but maybe it was because he knew them all intimately.
She opened each folder to figure out what the case was all about. She didn’t want to read through them all, but thankfully Solomon had placed a short summary at the first page of each file. She scanned the summary for each file, and, by the time she was done, she had a pretty decent-size Word document to give her a quick overview of each file. Then she realized that, although she said she was done, she had only done one box, and she had three more to go. Groaning, she switched out the boxes and began the next one.
When her phone rang, it was Nan. “I had a visitor this morning,” Doreen said in a happy but quiet voice.
“Who?” Nan asked curiously. “You don’t get too many of those, do you? At least not strangers.”
“No,” Doreen said. And then she explained who showed up.
Nan gasped and cried out in joy. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she said. “I know there’ll be charges all around on her case because it impacted so many other cases as well, but it’s nice Crystal came to your door. How did she look?”
“Happy,” Doreen said. “Delighted to be home, I think. She was content to have been reunited with her mother and happy to have something to do with her family again. She’s also applying to the local university, I think, with an eye to eventually becoming a lawyer. At least at this point.”
“Yes, she’s young yet,” Nan said. “Give her ten years, and she could be doing something completely different.”
“At least now she has a new start to her adult life,” Doreen said.
“Yes, dear,” Nan said. “Speaking of life—a bunch of us are going down to a little restaurant off the beach. Would you like to come?”
Doreen stared at the phone in surprise. “Oh, I don’t normally get a lunch invitation with a whole group of you,” she said with a frown. “Why are you going to this place?”
“It’s all about gardening,” Nan said. “A bunch of us are garden fanatics, but we’re all kind of old and doddering, so we might not be quite your cup of tea.”
Doreen chuckled. “You’re hardly doddering. You’re spry and have a very vibrant and sharp mind.”
“I know,” Nan said with a note of satisfaction. “Also a really nice little bakery is beside the restaurant.”
“What kind of a restaurant?” Doreen asked, wishing she hadn’t had such a hefty breakfast. “I ate a big plate of spaghetti this morning.”
“Oh,” Nan said. “Well, why don’t we pass this time then, and you can come next time.”
As soon as Nan said that, she hung up and left Doreen staring at her cell phone screen. She wondered what that was all about. Nan had revoked her invitation as soon as she realized Doreen had had spaghetti for breakfast, as if there was some rule about that. It brought back images of her ex with all his rules for her. Forcing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she went back to work again. An hour went by before she knew it. She finished the second box and then closed her laptop and stood, calling the animals.
“Come on,” she said. “We need to get some physical work done.”
Just when she was about to head out to the backyard with her gardening gloves, the front doorbell rang again. She frowned as Mugs once again went off barking and howling at the front door. She walked to the door and opened it to see her neighbor, Richard, glaring at her, but he held something in his hand. She looked at the odd bag and frowned.
“It was in the garden,” Richard said. “On the opposite side closer to my other neighbor. But I doubt it’s related.”
“Thank you,” Doreen said, taking the item from him. “We don’t really have any answers to give you yet though.”
“I didn’t think so.” He shrugged and said, “Answers would be good.” And then he turned and stomped away.
She watched him go before turning her attention to the bag in her hand. It looked like the contents of a purse with several pieces of ID. She shuffled into the kitchen and spilled the contents of the bag onto the kitchen table and realized they were all from the same woman. Meredith Pollock, according to the IDs.
Doreen knew Mack would have a heyday if she touched the contents though, but she wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to do if she wanted to examine the pieces. And then she got a bright idea. She opened her scanner, grabbed her tweezers, and gently scanned each piece into her scanner so she had a digital copy of both the front and back sides.
Then she picked up her phone, dialed, and said, “Mack?”
“Yes, it’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” he said, with maybe a smile, but the fatigue in his voice was evident, making his attempted humor fall flat.
“Did you find any bodies on Steve’s property?”
“Good morning, Doreen. How are you?” That meant she wouldn’t get any answer.
“My neighbor just came back over,” she said abruptly.
“Which neighbor and why do I care?”
“The one who had the handcuffs and the diamond ring.” At that, she sensed a change in the air.
“And?”
“He found a few more things. He said he found these pieces closer to his other neighbor’s side. I think that was just his way of saying it could have been his neighbor standing there and throwing the stuff in Richard’s garden.”
“What did he find?”
Doreen walked to her laptop, opened it up, and said, “Three IDs.”
“What kind of IDs?” he growled.
She typed in Mack’s name on a new email, attached the scans, and sent it to him. “I just sent you scans of them,” she said.
“You touched them all, of course?”
“With tweezers. But you can bet that Father Time and Mother Nature had their grubby fingers all over them,” she said in exasperation. “As did my neighbor. However, they’re all in a bag right now, and I used tweezers to scan them in.”
There was a moment of silence as he clicked on his keyboard.
“Did you get the email?” she asked.
“It’s just coming in, and you could tell me more, you know?”
“I could,” she said, “but a picture’s worth a thousand words.”
And just like that, to be perverse at the start of his day, she hung up on him.
She moved about and cleaned the teapot and cups from Crystal’s visit, then realized she hadn’t had a chance to even tell Mack about Crystal. As she headed back outside to the garden yet again, she thought she heard something. Probably her phone because she’d left it on the railing, so she ignored it. She wanted to get some work done, and he’d call back later either way. She worked on the garden, another four feet toward the house. But then she heard a sound behind her.
She spun around and was surprised to see Mack with his hands on his hips, glaring at her.
She raised her hands, palms up. “Now you’re pissed at me again. Why?”
“I wonder why?” he said. “Where are the IDs?”
“On the kitchen table,” she said cheerfully. “And you may want to talk to the neighbor about where it was he found all this stuff.”
“Remember? I’m the police,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I can figure out what to do on my own.”
Doreen shrugged and said, “Okay, so you’re grumpy today. I got it.”
“I’m grumpy because you keep hanging up on me,” he said with half a chuckle. “And I know you think it’s fun to do, but there are times it’s just a pain in the ass because I have to drive down here.”
“Right,” Doreen said. She put down her shovel and walked into her kitchen, grabbed the bag, and handed it to him.
&nbs
p; He looked at it and nodded. “So, we’re getting more and more pieces. Interesting.”
“I know,” she said. “And those are relatively clean.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, we haven’t had rain in days,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “But you might want to consider that potentially this stuff hasn’t been there long.”
Mack raised his head. “Interesting point.”
“And, of course, they’re laminated, so the weather, rain or snow wouldn’t hurt them anyway so maybe that’s a moot point.”
“Correct,” he said with a nod.
As he turned to leave, Doreen said, “I had an interesting visitor today too.”
He turned back halfway and looked at her, waiting.
“Crystal stopped by.”
The gentlest of smiles whispered across his face. “Good. I’m glad she came. She told me that she wanted to, and I told her that you would be welcoming, but she was a little hesitant.”
“She has no reason to be hesitant. I was so happy to see a live person at the end of her case.”
Understanding came into Mack’s eyes as he studied her. “It is quite hard, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She nodded. “So many dead. From accidents, from suicide, from murder …” She shook her head. “In this case, I’m absolutely thrilled Crystal was alive and well. We sat outside on my minuscule deck and had tea.”
“Your deck’s fine for now, until you decide what you want,” Mack said cheerfully. Then he turned and left.
Doreen waited a moment or two and then walked around to the side of the garage to see if Mack had gone to Richard’s. Sure enough, he was talking to him, and they were out in the front. She walked up to her front steps, so she’d get a better look and yet stayed out of view, just enough to see where they had found the IDs. It did look like it was close to the other neighbors’ side. That was an interesting possibility.
She contemplated who lived there, but she couldn’t remember. That was one of the sad facts about being here. She had met the woman on the left corner, but that woman had attacked her, and, of course, she had her grumpy neighbor, Richard. But who else resided in her cul-de-sac, she didn’t remember or never knew their names. She walked back inside, her mind full of details. Surely there was some way to get more answers here.
Chapter 12
Sunday Afternoon …
There might be a way to get more details, but Doreen spent the rest of the day frustrated and upset that she couldn’t find anything relevant. Not on Meredith. Not on where the items had been disposed of because surely somebody had a security camera pointed in that direction. But, as far as she could see from walking around the neighborhood, nobody did, including herself. She had asked Mack too, just in case, but he’d responded with a no. So who knew how long that stuff had been lying there?
She also looked for a news update on any bodies found at Steve’s place, but she had no luck. So she decided to go on a walk to the property, only to be ceremoniously told she wasn’t allowed on the land.
She glared at the policemen, most of whom knew who she was, and said, “The least you could do is tell me if you found anything.”
They simply grinned at her and told her to ask Mack.
She sighed as she turned around and studied the gardens as she walked past, trying to remain positive. She worked on Millicent’s garden again on Friday. Thankfully the weeds were under control, but they were looking at doing some transplanting. That brought Penny’s garden to mind. Doreen could walk past it to see if Penny had her house for sale and whether Penny was even still there—was she out on bail? How did the gardens look now?
With the animals at her heels, Doreen made her way toward Penny’s and crossed over the creek, barely avoiding getting wet. The water had risen so much that she’d ended up getting soaked on Penny’s side. Good thing she’d carried both Goliath and Thaddeus.
Stopping on Penny’s side, she said, “This is likely the last time, guys.”
Mugs barked, completely soaked and swimming like mad to get out on the steep bank. Worried, Doreen watched him until he landed on solid ground, shaking water like crazy. She screeched slightly and stepped out of the way and then started to run around so Mugs would run too. They came up to Penny’s place, but all the lights were out, the garage door was closed, and there was no sign of a vehicle.
The front garden that Doreen had created looked great. The solar garden lamp was perfect too, and the plants had settled in and apparently were getting enough water from the irrigation. She gave a happy nod and carried on. She decided not to risk returning over the creek again. Especially not when Mugs obviously had a problem getting out. So she had to walk the long way.
She came up at the small bridge that crossed to her place and walked over it. As she stopped and looked at it, she frowned. “So, who put this bridge here in the past? Who maintains it? Surely it’s not the original one, considering there was such high water in the past that it took out the road bridges?
Back over on her side, she was determined to do some gardening, so she could get this side of the yard done, and they could move forward with decking plans. She worked hard and then finally crashed on her small veranda with a big glass of lemonade. She hadn’t had anything else to eat since the spaghetti; yet, even now, she was doing okay, and it was two o’clock.
She checked her phone, but there were no messages. That always made her suspicious. She grabbed her laptop and found a shady spot along the wall to work on more research.
She had missed a couple emails on her phone that she hadn’t been notified about. One was from Mack, confirming receipt of the IDs, while another one was from the Pioneer Society, saying they’d be delighted to take a look at what she had and asking when she could show them the items from the hope chest boxes. A phone number was at the bottom of the email, so Doreen called them and asked if it was possible to bring the stuff today. They were delighted.
Not wanting to push it off to later, she walked back into the house and brought out the boxes. She then unpacked the ones with all the lingerie and decided that everything there could go in the display, alongside the love letters. She kept scans of the love letters, and then, just because she couldn’t resist, she snapped photos of the clothing too and scanned in all the pictures as well.
With that repacked and those two boxes ready to go, she still had three boxes full of dishes and one full of personal items, which she went through and decided they should go on display as well, depending on what the society wanted. And then she looked at the dishes again, laid them out, stacked them up, and took pictures of them to send to Scott. She wouldn’t give them to the society until she figured out if she wanted them herself or if Scott determined them to be a big-ticket item. And she really liked the simple pattern. With Mugs at her heels, she loaded up the car with the three boxes and headed downtown. It took her a little bit to find the society, off the Richter Street area.
When she finally found the little museum, she parked in the back, walked in, introduced herself, and then said she had the boxes in her car. She brought in the first box and showed it to them. It was all nightclothes and other clothing articles. Several of the volunteer board members were present, just concluding a meeting, and came down, delighted to see the handiwork and the personal items. Margery, the spokesperson. showed Doreen one empty glass display case. “Why don’t you bring in the rest of the stuff so they could see what would fit here?”
Doreen went back to the car. Mugs, on a leash, walked by her side. She made two trips and brought in both boxes. They had the first box already unpacked and had hung them up in the glass case. The nightgowns were upstaging the other clothes, all homemade with lovely details which had turned out beautifully. As for the love letters, some of them were opened and taped to the glass so people could read it. The society staff made sure they didn’t block the view of anything else. Doreen felt a sense of rightness as she watched what the women were doing.
“This is pe
rfect,” Doreen said in delight.
A few personal items Margery had put on the shelves too. And still stuff remained in the boxes, but the women gave Doreen receipts for everything as she gave them the history as far as she knew it. And then, with a happy sigh, and their promise they’d have it all properly on display the next time she came back, Doreen headed home. With that one job done, she sent the photos of the dishes off to Scott and then collapsed back down again outside. She still hadn’t found out anything about this Meredith person. Nor had she eaten.
Just then Nan called her. “You should have come for lunch,” she said. “It was delicious.”
“I still haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Doreen said. “I ate so much then.”
“One meal a day is one way to go through life,” Nan said. “Some people even think it’s the healthiest thing.”
“Do you know Meredith Pollocks?” Doreen asked.
Nan’s voice lowered as she said, “Meredith. Meredith. Meredith …” She paused. “Pollocks, yes, but I don’t think I know a Meredith.”
“She was a prostitute in town,” Doreen said.
“Well, it’s not like I’d know her personally then, would I?” Nan said in exasperation.
“You would if she happened to have been a child you knew or a teenager you knew or if you knew the family,” Doreen said. “Just because she was a prostitute doesn’t make her any less of a person.”
“Sure,” Nan said. “As I said, I know the Pollocks but not a Meredith.” And then she gasped. “Do you mean Meredith, Jenny’s daughter? Who then became Manny?”
“I think so yes.” Doreen said. “I don’t know who Jenny is either. Who is she?”
“A friend,” Nan said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Don’t hang up,” Doreen said with sudden intuition. Too late. Nan was gone.
With the sun beating down on the back deck, Doreen took her laptop inside and started to research Manny Pollock. Apparently the Pollocks had been around Kelowna for a good fifty-plus years.