“Just milk for me,” I tell him. “Can I help?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Just sit there.”
We slip off our jackets as the man pours our coffee into cups. He places a spoon in each. He goes for the carton of milk in the fridge then sits across from us. He takes a sip of his coffee, which he drinks black.
Andrew slides the photo album across the table. It’s one of those old leather-bound albums. Somebody glued a card to the front with the words “Our Adela” written in cursive. I bet Irma put the album together.
He opens to the first page and likely the first photo taken of Adela.
“She was a beautiful baby,” he says with a fondness in his voice.
“She sure was,” Ma says.
Andrew turns the pages, giving us the rundown: when Adela began walking; her first day at school; Halloween parties and Christmas mornings. As a reporter, I learned old Yankees weren’t so quiet after all. They do take a while to warm up though. I liken them to a lawnmower that’s been sitting a while. You need a few cranks to get the mower started, but once you do, it purrs and does its job.
I let Andrew ramble. Together we watch Adela grow up, become a young woman, and then almost middle-aged at family barbecues and holiday parties. The album’s final photo was at the store. She’s talking with Andrew. It’s a candid shot.
“This is the last one I know of. One of the newcomers took it and gave it to us after Adela left us. He was just going around town with his camera.”
I lean to take a closer look. A man is in the background, watching the conversation between Adela and her father.
“Hey, that’s Jack Smith from the Rooster,” I say.
Andrew bends closer.
“Yup, Jack,” Andrew says. “The newcomer tried to take pictures in the store’s backroom, but the guys back there wouldn’t let him.”
We both laugh. Ma doesn’t, but then she hasn’t had the Old Fart experience yet.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say. “The guy must have been really new in town to think he could get away with anything like that.”
Andrew studies the last photo for a moment.
“So, what can I do for you?” he asks.
“Like I said yesterday, I am interested in solving Adela’s disappearance,” I say, choosing the words I practiced with Ma on the ride here. “I know she’s been declared officially… ”
“Dead,” he says.
“Yes, dead. As you recall, I covered the story when it broke. I stayed with it until there was no more news. But I still think about what could have happened to your daughter. I know I’m not the only one. And if someone is responsible, we should know that, too. I have some free time to put into it.”
Andrew clears his throat.
“It’s a tragedy to believe someone is dead when you don’t know for sure. We had to do that to settle things legally, especially since the house was in her name. Then we could give it to Dale.”
“I remember.”
“Did you hear we hired a detective?”
I glance at Ma.
“No, I didn’t.”
“We wanted to see if Adela had turned up somewhere else. Irma was still with us then.” He pauses. “That detective couldn’t find anything anywhere.”
“I find it hard to believe she’d go somewhere else and hide out,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense. She had a son. She was close to her family.”
“I agree. No money was ever taken out of her bank account before she disappeared and after. Could she have set aside money somewhere else? That’s highly unlikely. But you never know.” His head turns side to side. “As painful as it sounds, I would’ve preferred Adela was fed up enough to take off.”
“Was she upset about anything?”
He takes a sip of coffee.
“Adela wasn’t too happy we had a buyer for the store. You look surprised. We kept it a secret, which is nearly impossible in this town. It was a couple from Connecticut. They were going to pay top dollar. But after the bad publicity about Adela, they got cold feet. The deal fell through.”
“That’s too bad,” my mother says.
Andrew nods.
“I think Adela was worried about getting another job. She didn’t want to commute to the city. She never finished high school after she ran off with John Albright. She stayed back once in grade school, so she was a junior when she turned eighteen. She felt bad about not having that diploma. She mentioned taking the GED. It would’ve been tough for her to get anything decent without it. Irma and I told her we’d help her out if she wanted to start a business.”
As I listen to Andrew, I note there’s no emotion in this part of our conversation.
“Anyway, Jamie now has the store. He bought it from me. Of course, I gave him a good deal. It helps with Social Security. You sure don’t make a lot of money running a general store.”
“I can see how Adela would be upset about your selling the store but not enough for her to hurt herself,” I say.
His head shakes a bit.
“When it comes down to it, I guess we only have a couple of options. It hasn’t been easy coming to that conclusion. Do I believe my daughter is dead? In my heart, I do. Did she do it herself or was it somebody else? That I haven’t figured out.”
I read Ma’s mind about my next question.
“Did your daughter own a gun?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
I glance at Ma. She stays quiet, her plan all along. But that answer eliminates one possibility. I seriously doubt someone would hike into the woods and down pills.
“Andrew, before we go any further, I have to know if you mind me doing this, asking questions, and snooping around.”
“What if I say I would mind?”
The reporter in me wants to say, “Hell, I’d do it anyway.”
But I can’t.
Anyway, I believe Andrew is just testing me.
“Then I’d drop it.”
He blinks.
“You know, it really bothered me the way the police treated this case. Even the staties came off as a bunch of dumb hicks. I remember telling one of them, ‘how would you feel if this were your daughter?’ He told me he was sorry. It was all he could do.” He rubs his clean-shaven chin. “My answer is that you have my blessing. I will bring it up in the store’s backroom, so that will get things rolling pretty fast.”
“What about the rest of the family?”
“I already mentioned the possibility to Jamie. At first, he was against it, but he’s okay with it now. I think he’s afraid what you could find out about his sister.”
“What about Dale?”
“I can talk with him.”
“Thanks. I still have all of my notes, and there are papers I took with me when I left my job at the paper. I’m going to make a list of people to interview.”
“You going to see Bobby Collins?”
I blow air.
“Not sure about that one. It might be tough.”
“He was living here when it happened. He and Adela weren’t on the best of terms. He’d be at the top of my list of suspects. I told the police that.”
“My notes say he had an alibi,” I tell him.
“That woman? He could’ve paid her off. It wouldn’t have taken much.”
I nod. He’s talking about the Floozy.
“Andrew, could you tell my mother and me about that morning you went to Adela’s house?”
He clears his throat as he sets down his mug.
“Adela always walked through the side door at 7:45. I could set my watch by her arrival.” He pauses. “I waited five minutes, ten minutes, then I called her house phone. We didn’t have cell phones back then. There was no answer. The machine didn’t even pick up.”
He shakes his head.
“I was a little bit annoyed since we had to open the store. I kept calling. I called Irma at home. Now I was getting a little worried. Irma was, too. She said she’d go to the store first thing. I remember her say
ing, ‘This isn’t like Adela. Maybe she’s real sick. Why don’t you check on her?’ I don’t know why I didn’t tell her to stop at the house, but now I’m glad I didn’t.” He stops for a second. “So, I walked over. The first thing I noticed the garage door was open and her car wasn’t there. I couldn’t remember if she took it to Ed’s garage to be fixed. Course, she could’ve stayed overnight somewhere else, you know, with somebody. Or maybe she went somewhere and was late getting back. Maybe she got a flat tire or her car broke down. All these thoughts went through my brain.”
He takes a sip of his coffee.
“I was surprised to see her dog, Lucy, was inside. She wanted to go outside really bad so I figured Adela hadn’t been here for a while. I called out loud, but Adela didn’t answer. I went upstairs to her room. The bed was made. I went from room to room. Nothing. That’s when I saw broken dishes on the kitchen floor. It was like someone took their dinner and smashed it on the floor.” He sighs. “Then I found her purse on the kitchen counter. I looked inside. Nothing seemed missing. The wallet had about sixty dollars.” He whispers, “That was a bad sign.”
I glance at my mother.
“What did you do next?”
“I called the store to see if somehow she might be there, but Irma said no. I asked if Adela said she had plans today and we just forgot. Irma said no. As I added things up, I started to feel a real panic coming on. Something wasn’t right. I started calling people she knew like her brother. I called Ed’s garage. He said Adela’s car wasn’t in the shop. Irma kept calling the house from the store. I just didn’t know what to do.” His head shakes side to side. “I had to get back to the store. Irma couldn’t handle it all by herself. I called our daughter-in-law for help. Next was Chief Ben. He stopped on his way to work. But there wasn’t anything he could do. He told me to notify the state police if she wasn’t back by noon.”
My mother’s face is pinched. My heart feels the same way. Twenty-eight years later, Andrew hasn’t gotten over those moments.
But all I could muster was, “Oh, Andrew.”
“I ended up going back to the store. Irma was beside herself. I stayed behind the deli counter. I kept hoping and praying she would walk through the front door. I asked anyone and everyone if they’d seen her. Nobody. I even called Bobby Collins. That shows how desperate I was. He didn’t have a clue.” His voice caught. “The state police came. I could tell they weren’t taking this seriously. I remembered when you called me. I was grateful you did. Thank you.” His head keeps shaking no. “Irma and I dreaded Dale coming back on the bus. How do you tell a ten-year-old boy his mother is missing?” He sighed. “You just can’t. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The little fellow cried and cried. I cried with him.”
No one speaks for a minute. We just absorb his words.
“The days after weren’t any better,” he whispers. “And then those hunters found her car.”
“Why do you think it was left on that logging road?” I ask.
“I walked that road after they found her car and looked around. I’ve been back many times. I couldn’t find a thing.”
“The police released her car to you. Was there anything inside that was unusual?”
Andrew hums.
“This may sound odd, but before I had it crushed, I put everything I found in a box. I still have it somewhere in the attic. When I find it, I’ll call you. I have your number. Maybe you’ll see something the rest of us missed.”
“Please do,” I say. “One more question for today, and then we’ll go. Was Adela seeing anybody?”
“A man? Adela kept quiet about those things. She didn’t enjoy all the gossip after she made mistakes with the two she married. When you work in the store, you hear so much of that. You try not to eavesdrop, but you can’t help it. People really should be more careful what they say in a public place.” His head swings back and forth. “I know Adela did go out with men. Sometimes she’d mention she was seeing somebody, but she always added it wasn’t serious. Anyway, when your daughter gets to a certain age, you’re on a need-to-know basis.”
“Thank you for meeting with us, Andrew,” I say. “Let me know when you find that box.”
“I will.” He presses his lips together. “Who are you going to talk with next?”
“I believe I’ll try the old chief next. He’s been retired a long time, but maybe he remembers something.”
“I hope you get him on a good day. It’s been hard on Sadie and the family.”
“I heard about the Alzheimer’s. But it might be easier for him to remember something that happened long ago than today.”
“You’re probably right about that.” Andrew pauses. “You were a good reporter. I appreciated how you handled this story about my daughter. We all did. I’m also sorry about Sam. He was a great guy.”
“That he was,” I answer. “It’ll be a year November 8.”
Andrew clicks his tongue.
“Imagine that.”
Old Farts
On Tuesday, I meet Ruth at the general store, where she is dropping off Sophie for the day. Normally, she brings the baby to my house, but she’s going in the opposite direction, and this will save her time. I already have a car seat, a monstrous thing, permanently fixed to the back seat of my Subaru. Besides, I have other business to attend to here.
Sophie’s wide-eyed and smiling when we make the transfer.
“I might be a little late,” Ruth says.
I eye the bag she tosses onto the back seat.
“That’s okay. It looks like you packed enough to hold her a while.”
Ruth is off after a quick kiss. I’m still holding the baby. It’s only seven, so the store isn’t open although pickups and big-ass cars for the Old Farts already in the store’s backroom are parked along the side of the road. I glance around.
“Oh, what the heck,” I tell Sophie, keeping in mind Ruth doesn’t want me to swear in front of the baby. She’d be pissed, ha.
I shut the car’s back door with a swing of my hips and walk with Sophie toward the store. We don’t lock our cars either, except when we go to the city. You’ve got to trust your neighbors. Besides, most of them have mutts, the best alarm system in the country. We haven’t had a dog in years. After the last one died, I told Sam, no more. Dogs become too much a part of the family, and when they go, it’s like losing family. I did ask Ma if she wanted a dog. So far, she says no, but it might be nice if I’m working nights and she’s alone. It might make her feel safer. I’ll have to bring it up again.
I hear the Old Farts yakking it up when I step inside the side door and walk along the shelves holding canned goods, jars, and boxes. They go silent when they see me. I know every one of them, retirees with nothing better to do than get up early and drink coffee while they chew the fat in the store’s backroom. There are six main Old Farts: the Fattest Old Fart, the Skinniest Old Fart, the Serious Old Fart, the Old Fart with Glasses, the Bald Old Fart, and the Silent Old Fart. Of course, they don’t know that’s what I call them.
There are others who drop in, the Visiting Old Farts, but these six are the Old Fart regulars. Then there are the blue-collar workers on their way to a job site. This is only a pit stop for them. Actually, two carpenters pass me on their way out. Sam’s worked with both of them. They say their hellos and ask after me.
The Old Farts are likely the biggest gossipers in town, worse than any group of women, I wager. Sam told me they bring up a topic, say a touchy decision the board of selectmen made or a recent divorce in town, and weigh the details they know or suspect. They thrive on being the first to break the news. It’s almost embarrassing how excited they get, Sam said. As a former reporter I can relate to the thrill of breaking news, but I had to attribute every fact. I used the word “alleged,” which is unlikely in the Old Farts’ vocabulary.
There are no females back here, except Sophie and me. They show up later in the morning, the women who drive school bus, or who are married to one of the Old Far
ts and have come to pick something up at the store.
“Isabel, what are you doing back here?” the Fattest Old Fart asks.
“I felt like bothering somebody today,” I answer. “I don’t get to do enough of that anymore.”
The Old Farts laugh.
“No, really, why are you here?” the Bald Old Fart on the opposite bench says.
I sit on a bench beside the Fattest Old Fart. I unzip Sophie’s snowsuit, so she doesn’t get overheated.
“I wanted to see what I’ve been missing all these years,” I say. “Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you. This is my granddaughter by the way, Ruth’s little girl. Her name’s Sophie. Try not to swear in front of her. Ruth doesn’t want her picking up any bad habits.”
“Cute baby,” the Serious Old Fart says.
I look around as if it’s my first time here.
“Gee, this is awfully cozy back here. I’m an early riser, too. Might be a nice way to start the day, getting all the town news.”
They glance at each other. I’m having fun pulling their legs. Actually, I’m supposed to meet Andrew Snow. He called last night to say he found the box containing the contents of Adela’s car.
A few have guessed I’m teasing them. They snicker.
“So, what were you talking about when I came in?” I offer.
“About getting a vasectomy,” the Skinniest Old Fart says just to see my reaction, I’m certain.
“I wouldn’t think any of you would have to worry about that,” I fire back.
More laughter.
“Nah, we’re talking politics,” the Fattest Old Fart says. “But while you’re here, I’ve got a question for you. How’s your detective work going?”
I glance around to see if Jamie Snow is within earshot. He’s on my list of people to interview. I’ll work up to it because he’s a little on the sensitive side. But he is Adela’s brother, and from what I recall, they were pretty close. I’m going to slowly reel in my answer. I don’t want to offend Jamie, and I’m certain whatever I say inside here will get back to him anyways and who in the hell knows who else.
“You’re talking about Adela, of course. I’ve just started. I’m going through my notes I kept back then, plus some records I have, and I’ve already talked with Andrew. I have a lot more to go. If any of you know anything that might be useful, give me a holler. My number is in the book. I would keep it confidential.”
Chasing The Case Page 6