They’d been friends for a long time, since they’d been young, and were almost as close as sisters. Irma used to have a huge family, mother, father, six siblings and two husbands, no children, but she’d outlived them all. She had no one except her customers and friends in Spookie. Myrtle was her very best friend.
They passed the Delicious Circle donut shop and waved through the shop window at Kate, who was pouring a cup of coffee for one of her customers, and her husband, Norman, who was getting someone a sandwich from the new lunch bar they’d had put in the year before.
Myrtle made the comment, “Gotta stop by Kate’s before I leave town and take some donuts home for Glinda and Kyle. They love those donuts.”
“You mean you love those donuts?”
“Well, me too. But I want to do something nice for them. They’re so good to me so I like being good to them. I bring them little treats when I can.”
Irma changed the subject, inquiring, “Have you been out lately to see old Silas Smith?”
“Not lately, but Frank has. He went out there to fix something or other the other day, took Silas some groceries, and Frank told me Silas was doing all right. Though, I did see the two of them last week munching Danish at Kate’s. They take walks together sometimes, meander around town, you know. Silas seemed pretty good when I saw him. His cancer is still in remission for now. He misses Violet something awful, of course, but like all of us old survivors, he’s adapting.”
“I’m happy for him,” Irma replied. “He comes into my place once and a while and talks up a storm. Buys things, too, now that he’s got that treasure money. Sweet man. And not bad looking for an old coot.” She nodded her head as they walked.
“Ah, ha! Do I hear a love match in the making?”
Between steps Irma shoved against her gently. “Not in my lifetime. Like you, I’m way past all that foolishness. Silas is a sweet man, an educated gentleman who can converse on many subjects, and I do enjoy having him for a friend. But that’s all.”
“Or so you say.” Myrtle giggled. “He is very well off, you know.”
“His wife hasn’t been gone that long.”
“So? Life goes on. He is really well off...and, as you pointed out, not that hard to look at for an old coot.”
Irma narrowed her eyes and threw her a thunderous look, but didn’t say anything else as they continued their stroll down the sidewalk.
ONCE INSIDE STELLA’S they sat at a table in front of the window. Both women enjoyed watching the humanity parade past. They’d make up humorous stories between themselves about the individuals strolling along the sidewalk or coming into the diner. They sat there and giggled, at times, like girls. It was good to have old friends who understood each other so well and had so much history together. Myrtle could begin a sentence or thought and most times Irma could finish it.
They had their ham and beans, coffee and dessert, caught up on each other’s lives and any gossip they’d heard. They enjoyed being together.
The restaurant was full of hungry customers either consuming a late breakfast or, as them, an early lunch. The crowd was humming with companionable chatter and laughing people. Stella’s food was so good it always made people happy. Myrtle liked hanging out at Stella’s. A person could learn so much just by casual or not so casual eavesdropping. Boy, the things she’d found out just by listening. Some really juicy or slanderous things, too. Who was behind on their mortgage, who was cheating on their spouse, who was ill or was selling their house and moving away. Who was getting married. Stella’s was the perfect place for learning the most up-to-date town gossip. It gave an old lady something to do.
“I’m afraid for Abigail,” Myrtle told Irma as they ate. “She’s intent on painting that awful old Theiss house. I know it’s haunted. I warned her, Glinda warned her, not to go out there anymore, especially alone, but she won’t listen to us.” Myrtle was rocking her head from side to side.
“Abigail came out the other day to grill me about that house, its murderous history; what happened there. Claudia sent her to me.”
“She did?” Myrtle felt surprise, then remembered she had been the one to send Abigail to Claudia in the first place. “That’s right. You knew the family. You knew all of them. Even Lucas.”
“I did. So I know Abigail is out there on Suncrest painting pictures of the place as we sit here and eat our lunch. She said she wasn’t afraid of anything that might be there. Ha, me? I wouldn’t go near that house. Like you I believe it harbors bad juju. Not ghosts, like you most likely think are there. Just terrible memories. Though to this day I won’t accept Lucas killed his sisters and parents. Killing wasn’t in him. Poor child. He adored his family. I feel so sorry for him. Such a wasted life. I’m one of those people who believed the mysterious stalker story. That’s why I write to him sometimes.”
Myrtle stared at her old friend. “You write to Lucas Theiss in prison?”
“I have over the years, on and off,” Irma confessed. “I’ve told you that before, but you forget.”
Myrtle felt silly. She did forget a lot of things. “That is true. I do forget things you’ve told me. But, about the stalker, they never found anyone, did they?”
“Nope,” Irma retorted, “never did. But they never looked for one, either. From day one they pinned it on Lucas.”
Myrtle was staring out the window, watching Claudia working her way down the sidewalk towards the diner. The woman’s head was down, her shoulders slumped, and she was muttering to herself. Myrtle recognized a distraught woman when she saw one. Oh, oh.
Claudia’s head rose and she must have seen her and Irma through the window sitting at their table. The book lady stopped, spun around, and marched into Stella’s, making a beeline toward them. Oh oh.
“Myrtle, Irma,” Claudia spoke in a hoarse whisper. The woman’s eyes were red. Easy to see she’d been crying. “Having lunch I see.”
“We are,” Irma piped up.
“Want to join us, Claudia?” Myrtle could almost feel the woman’s distress and she had to reach out to her. “You look like you need someone to talk to.”
Shutting her eyes for a moment as if she were in pain, the new arrival deposited herself into the empty chair across from them. “I guess I do. Need someone to talk to. It’s been a difficult week. I was heading to the newspaper’s office, third time in as many days, hoping to catch Samantha before she went home. There are things I need to discuss with her. And, well...you were right, Myrtle, I needed to vent to someone.”
Stella, seeing the third person at their table, had come over. “Can I get you something, Claudia?”
“Coffee. Strong. Make it half whiskey.”
Stella stood above them, pencil poised above her order pad, unsmiling. “Now Claudia, you know we don’t sell whiskey here.”
“Pity. I need a big glass of it. Or a whole bottle.”
“Then just coffee, huh?”
“Yeah, just coffee. Black. Thank you, Stella.”
Stella bustled off.
Myrtle didn’t want to ask, but she was never one to avoid someone else’s problems. “What’s wrong, Claudia? You look awful.” The unhappiness on the book lady’s face let Myrtle identify that whatever it was, it wasn’t good news.
“You know Ryan, his friends Jim and Pete, too, have been on that African safari?”
“Of course, everyone knows that,” Myrtle said. “Samantha has been posting Ryan’s daily entries of his adventures and photos on The Weekly Journal’s online blog. Wow, some of those photos are incredible. Like those lions at the river. The crocodiles he caught sunning on the riverbank. That monster snake up in the tree. Yikes, scary. Most of the town is following your husband’s exploits with great interest. Glinda and me, included. It’s like reading an exciting serial. We can’t get enough of them. And whoever would have guessed Ryan was such an excellent storyteller and blogger.”
Irma bobbed her head and contributed, “I read it every morning online on my shop computer. It’s been real thrillin
g stuff. I really enjoyed that one post about the tigers chasing him and his companions and how they had to hide in that cave.
“Oh, and the one where the safari group came across that herd of wildebeests and one charged Ryan. He fell into a bunch of thorn bushes. Ouch.
“Hey,” Irma sent her next remarks to Myrtle, “I also liked the pictures of the river full of crocodiles they’d had to skirt around. Did you see that?”
“Saw them.” Myrtle bobbed her head affirmatively.
Irma turned back to Claudia. “Ryan’s photographs, as Myrtle said, have been spectacular. Just like you were right there with him and his companions.”
Then Irma’s face became thoughtful. “Hmm, come to think on it there hasn’t been a posting or any news at all in a while. For days, I know, and I’ve missed them.”
“There’s been no blog posts lately,” Claudia’s voice emerged strained, “because he and his two friends are missing in action. They and all their comrades have vanished.”
“What? Oh, no,” Myrtle exclaimed, becoming the very likeness of The Scream painting by Edvard Munch, her hands cupped around her face, her mouth open in an o shape. Most of her life she’d been partial to that painting; feeling that way many times herself when awful things happened to her or someone she loved. A primal scream. “How do you know that they’ve vanished?”
“Because Ryan usually calls or texts me every evening, but I haven’t heard from him now in eight days. Eight days. Neither have Jim and Pete’s wives. I called them. They’re worried, too.” Claudia bent her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose and her eyes in a gesture of despair.
“At first I thought Ryan was probably only busy; the daily happenings and preparations for the next leg of the journey were taking up his time. But eight days isn’t normal. Jim and Pete not communicating with their families isn’t normal. Something is wrong. I was going to see if Samantha had heard anything from him, gotten any new blog posts she just hasn’t published yet. I am so worried. It’s not like Ryan to make me worry. So something is wrong,” she repeated. “I just know it.”
“Have you contacted the American consulate there in Zambia? Asked them to check into the lack of communications from your husband for you?” Myrtle asked.
“Not yet. It’s next on my list if Samantha hasn’t recently heard from Ryan.”
“If you think something is wrong, come on home with me and talk to Glinda. Let her give you a reading. See if the cards tell her anything about Ryan’s predicament. I mean after you speak to Samantha that is. It is possible she might have news. I hope so. Your husband could be just fine and dandy.”
“All right. If Samantha hasn’t heard anything from Ryan I might come visit your niece. Tell her for me, would you?”
“I will,” Myrtle replied. Though the next thought she had was, Glinda will already know you’re coming. She always does.
Stella brought the coffee, and after Claudia had blown on it to cool it, she gulped it down and left the diner. She was in a hurry to get to the newspaper.
When the book shop proprietor was gone, Myrtle related to Irma, “I feel sorry for her. I have a bad feeling about Ryan’s silence. As she mentioned, it isn’t normal. Not for him. Those two are as close as magnets and he wouldn’t do anything to make her stew and fuss, and she was worried enough just with him going to Africa. When I get home, I will have Glinda read their cards. See if they reveal anything that might illuminate the situation. Or see if she can feel anything.”
“You do that. I hope everything will turn out all right for both of them.
“So,” Irma resumed their earlier conversation, “where are we going next? You said something about a cruise?”
“I decided against a long sea voyage right now. Too much going on here to be absent that long. How about a short trip down the river? Maybe four days and three nights? I know just the cruise. They stop at a couple river towns and we can either go ashore and traipse through historical venues, houses and museums and such, or stay aboard. The brochure I have says they have gambling casinos, fancy floor shows, bands and great food smorgasbords on the boat. They even have a midnight chocolate buffet. Every night.”
“Whoopie. When do we go?” Irma was bending forward, her eyes more alive than when Myrtle had wandered into her shop earlier. “Things have been so slow at the shop. Boring. I’m about to go stir crazy. So let’s do it. I’m ready for an adventure.”
Myrtle grinned. “Me, too. We could leave the first week of October. We can’t go on no vacation until after Glinda and Kyle’s wedding, though. Can’t miss that. It is looking to be a real blow out. I’m paying for the whole wedding and the honeymoon. Honeymoons, I should say. They’re going to have two honeymoons. A short one after the wedding and then a longer one later. Kyle is taking over Doc Andy’s practice real soon here so they have to put the real honeymoon off for a bit.” She’d already mentioned the wedding to Irma but hadn’t told her she was paying for the honeymoons, as well.
“That’s generous of you. Kind, too.”
“Nah, they’re my family. I’d do anything for them.”
“October? We really have to wait that long?” Irma groused. “I’ d sure like to leave sooner and get away from this dreadful heat. It’d be great to cool off on the water with all the amenities like icy margaritas and strawberry daiquiris. People waiting on us like we’re royalty.”
“I would like that, too, Irma. But I also want to be here for all the coming wedding preparations. I promised Glinda I’d help. I can’t go anywhere until after the wedding. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Irma seemed disappointed but cheered up quick enough. She also liked weddings.
They went on chattering about the cruise and what clothes and accessories they’d bring along. Talked about all the fun they’d have. They made more plans.
Finishing their meal, they paid their bills and were getting up to leave. Irma would reopen her shop. Myrtle would return with her and sit around until she could fenagle a ride home with someone. If worse came to worse, she would break off a tree limb, use it as a makeshift cane and take the shortcut through the woods. She’d be home in minutes. If it had been as hot as the days before she wouldn’t have considered walking, but it was not so bad today.
Before they deserted the table, however, Claudia came barging through Stella’s doors and headed full tilt in their direction. There was a look of panic on her face.
“Oh, oh. She’s back,” Irma muttered aside to Myrtle, cocking her head at the advancing distraught woman.
Claudia dropped down into the chair she’d vacated not so long before. First thing she said was, “Samantha hasn’t heard anything from Ryan in eight days, either. Not a telephone call, not one email, article or photograph for her to post. She said she was going to call me later today to see if I’d heard from him. I told her I hadn’t. I knew there was something wrong. I knew it.” The woman cradled her face in her hands and her head slowly shook back and forth.
She gazed up at them. “Samantha helped me put in a call to the Ultimate Zambia Safari’s office–that’s the name of the company Ryan chartered his safari with–so we could find out what is going on. Bad news. They confessed to us, but so sorry, they’ve lost contact with the guide leading the safari. He hadn’t checked in for a week and they’re supposed to report in every couple of days. They’ve sent out men to search for the group and promised they will remain in touch with me until they locate it. I wasn’t to worry. Sometimes they lose contact with a party out in the wild. It doesn’t mean anything bad has happened to them. I didn’t believe them for a minute. They know more than they’re saying. I know it.
“So Samantha and I telephoned the American consulate in Zambia and put in an official missing person’s report on Ryan, Pete and Jim, and their group. Samantha knew just what to do and who to speak to. They said the same thing Ultimate Zambia had said. Sometimes contact is lost with a safari because of bad weather or something else. They’ll show up. Not to worry. Easy for them to say.�
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Claudia looked as if she were ready to cry. Her face kept scrunching up, but she fought it and kept the tears away. “Because I don’t like this. Ryan and his team being out of touch for so long. I feel, in my heart, something awful has happened to them. It’s not just loss of communication...Ryan and his companions are in danger. They need help. I feel it.
“I wish...I wish I could just jump on an airplane and fly over there. Look for him myself.” Claudia’s eyes had filled with steely determination that swiftly faded away.
“Now that’s about the dumbest idea I ever heard of,” Myrtle blurted out. “Besides, you’re terrified of flying and you hate anything that is not small town safe. Africa is wild and has man-eating critters all over the place. You can’t just go mucking around out in the jungle. You could disappear yourself or get eaten.”
Claudia stared at her. Different emotions shadowing her face. Then she sighed and uttered in a pitiful voice, “I told him not to go. Ryan, I mean. He’s overweight. Too old. He has back problems. Africa is so perilous and so far away. What was he thinking? I knew it wasn’t safe. Now he’s missing. What am I going to do? What’s happened to him? Is he all right? Is he hurt somewhere and suffering...is he still alive? Are Pete and Jim, who went with him, okay? Oh my, my, my. There’s really three people I care about missing.” Tears formed in the corners of the woman’s eyes and slipped down her flushed cheeks.
Irma put her hand out and took Claudia’s, trying to comfort her. “It’ll be okay. Wherever he is he’s probably all right. Jim and Pete, too. Ryan will call you tonight, you’ll see. Any minute.”
“I hope so.” Claudia’s hand swiped her face so the tears wouldn’t trickle off her chin. “I just feel so helpless. I miss Ryan so much more than I ever thought I would. He’s my world. Always has been. Now I think I never told him that enough.”
Irma murmured, “Oh, I imagine he knew that.”
“There is something you can do, Claudia,” Myrtle counseled. “Come home with me and have Glinda give you a reading–or see if she can glimpse anything in her mind that might help you see what’s happened to Ryan, his friends, and his fellow safari companions. At the least, maybe she can tell you if they’re in danger or not.”
All Those Who Came Before Page 18