I set down my beer. I ignore any double meaning in his question.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Well, if you change your mind, Jack can give me a reference. Right, cousin? I did the excavation for that sun porch on Eleanor’s side of the house. It’s still standing, ain’t it?”
“Yup,” Jack says. “Eleanor and her dogs love that place.”
So, Jack’s cousin who gives me the royal creeps has been digging holes, as he says, in Conwell and the towns around it. I’m a little more interested in what he has to say.
“Fred, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, honey, what is it?”
I have a thing about men who I don’t like calling me honey, but I try to stay light and friendly.
“You might’ve heard I’m investigating Adela Collins’ disappearance for her family.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
Fred’s head bobs like one of those stupid bobble-head dolls. His could be the Redneck Fred doll. Good one, Isabel, I tell myself although I try not to laugh.
“I was wondering if you knew Adela.”
“Sure, I did. We had some good times together.” He tips his head toward Jack. “My cousin did, too. I bet half the guys in this barroom tonight did.”
“Were you together for a long time?”
“Nah, on and off over the years. We’d go hot and heavy for a little while. Then she’d drop me for somebody else.”
“Did that bother you?”
“Shit, I wasn’t planning on marrying her. Nobody was. And after Bobby, Adela wasn’t looking for Prince Charming.”
I nod, thinking about the woman’s image forming in my brain. Adela liked having a good time with men. There’s nothing wrong with that. Men do it all the time. I just hope it didn’t cost her.
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
He hums while he eyes Jack.
“A couple of days before she was gone,” he says.
“You were on a date?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he says, turning briefly toward Jack. “Sorry, bro.”
I’m trying to read the exchange between the two men. Jack is on the verge of frowning, an unnatural occurrence at the Rooster.
“What do you have to be sorry about?” I ask.
“I think I’ll let Jack tell you himself. Right, Jackie boy?”
Jack doesn’t respond. He just gives Fred a look that if it were any more powerful would have knocked him off the stool.
What the hell?
Something about Jack
At the top of the stairs to the second floor, Jack asks, “What’s in this room?”
“That’s my office.”
“Office? Mind if I take a look?”
“Go ahead,” I say. “Let me get the light.”
Actually, what else could I say? Sorry, my office has private stuff. You can sleep with me and have sex, but you can’t look at a bunch of papers I have about Adela. Besides, at this point my leads are fading. I haven’t had Ma here to bounce off ideas. Maybe Jack will see something I’m missing.
Jack faces the wall of crime.
“Whoa,” he says.
I make a half-laugh.
“Welcome to the CSI of Isabel Long, P.I.”
“Isabel Long, P.I., eh?”
Jack steps closer. He studies the papers, photos, and maps. He bends nearer to read my handwriting, which journalism ruined into an almost illegible scrawl. It’s like I’m signing checks to everything.
“I haven’t updated the wall yet,” I tell him.
He points to my suspect list.
“Yeah, Walter Bartol is still number one. I see Bobby and Marsha are here.” He squints. “Oh, you have Victor Wilson. You really gonna visit that nut?”
“Might have to. You can see I crossed out Mira and Bruce Clark’s name. That was a long shot anyway. Walter Bartol’s a goner. Now, Victor seems a possibility. Would you be willing to come with me to see him?”
“And get shot? No, thanks, ma’am. We have a history. Why don’t you try Chief Ben Jr.?”
Jack is more interested in what’s on the wall right now than listening to my voice. He gives me a half-hearted “uh-huh” when I talk about my experience with Victor Wilson as he inspects each piece of paper. Would I have enough nerve to visit him alone? I guess if I told somebody where I was going and when to expect me back home.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Jack studies the map, where I marked scenes related to Adela’s disappearance.
“Go ahead.”
“What did your cousin mean when he said ‘sorry, bro’ at the Rooster tonight? Did you two have some argument about Adela?”
Jack has moved onto the list of old comments I collected after Adela disappeared and seven years later at her memorial service.
“Somethin’ like that.” Now he points toward the card that came with Adela’s birthday flowers. He lets out a long stream of air. “Where’d you find this?”
“That card? It was in the back of Adela’s bureau. I found it when I took out the drawers. It must have slipped back there. You recognize the handwriting?”
He turns toward me. His eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah, it’s mine.”
“That’s your handwriting? You’re the one who sent those flowers to Adela?”
“I sure did.”
“I thought they came from the man she was having a secret love affair with before she went missing.”
“That’s me all right.”
My mouth hangs open because right now I feel a bit foolish or fooled. Did I actually tell Jack I was looking for this mystery lover? I honestly don’t remember mentioning it. The only ones who’ve heard about any inner-circle revelations about this case have been Ma and Andrew Snow. But still, I’m annoyed. Jack knows what I’ve been doing, and he didn’t think I would want to know he was her lover?
What’s going on here? It’s gotta be the sex.
Isabel, snap out of it.
I go to my desk, where I stashed the photos from the pig roast.
“I want you to see something. This was in the bottom of the box.” I hand him the picnic table photo. “You two look pretty cozy in that photo. This was what, a couple of weeks before she disappeared. How come you didn’t tell me that before?”
Jack studies the photo.
“Isabel, I told you when we went snowshoeing that she and I had a relationship a couple of times, but it didn’t work out.”
“Like her disappearing? Come on, Jack. I’m gonna be honest with you. This is bullshit you didn’t tell me.”
Jack touches my shoulder.
“Isabel, do you really think I could hurt or kill somebody? Tell me straight.”
I study his face. There are no happy grins this time from the Rooster’s owner, just big questioning eyes.
“No,” I say quietly. “Now tell me straight about what happened between you two. Don’t leave anything out.”
His cheeks puff a bit before he exhales.
“I guess we were in love for maybe four months. Maybe less.”
“You guess?”
He shrugs.
“I really thought it might go somewhere this time. Adela had other ideas.”
“More, please.”
I let Jack ramble on about his feelings for the woman, how she liked keeping their relationship a secret. At first, he found it exciting, their sneaking around, but then he wondered why she couldn’t be open about it. Mondays and Tuesdays, when the Rooster was closed, was their time to get together, which explains why the newspapers in her car were from those days. He slept over at her house whenever Dale wasn’t there. He admits, when I ask, they did it one time at the Shady Grope, just for kicks.
Course, Adela came to the Rooster, but in those days there was no music or food, and they kept things so casual nobody suspected.
Jack talked about his grief when everyone decided Adela wasn’t coming back.
“It broke my heart,” he says with a knot
in his voice.
I remember that photo some newcomer took of Adela in the store, and how Jack was in the background, staring at her. I believe I would describe his expression as affectionate. Maybe Jack was there to talk with Adela.
“I know it’s not the same as you and Sam. You two were married a long time. But I knew Adela all my life, and like I’m sure you’ve heard over and over, no one goes missing in a town this small.”
I make a deep, long sigh.
“Okay, Jack, but if this relationship is going to continue, you can’t hold important stuff back like that. I feel real funny you did. Like you didn’t trust me.”
He bends, so his eyes are on my eyes.
“You want me to leave?”
My lips form a small smile. I’m still a bit annoyed, but then I realize it was my fault, too. I let my personal feelings get in the way of this investigation.
“No, stay. I didn’t pay close enough attention to what you said. I should’ve asked you a follow-up question.”
“Follow-up, what’s that?”
“Oh, it’s when you get an answer, but there’s a lot more you want to know. So, you follow up with another question. It’s a reporter’s tool. Lawyers use it in court. I should’ve asked you when you had relationships with Adela. If I did, would you have told me?”
“Course, I would’ve. I’m sorry, real sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Anyways, I’ll know better next time. Have you seen enough in here?”
Jack nods.
“Yeah, I’m beat. Let’s go to bed.”
Ma’s Call
My mother’s call wakes me at eight. I look over. Jack is gone. The bathroom door is open, and I don’t hear the shower running. None of his clothes are here. I didn’t hear him leave.
“Hey, Ma, what’s going on?”
“Would you mind if I came home early? Danny’s working nights this week, so he says he could meet you at the same place.”
“How early?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Friday? It would have to be early since I work at the Rooster that night.”
I shake my head although Ma can’t see me. That complicates things. But how could I refuse her? Besides, I don’t know what’s happening with Jack. That’s when I smell coffee from downstairs. He’s still here, and I will admit I’m relieved. Damn him if he’d split this morning without saying good-bye at least. That would have been cowardly, but not Jack’s style it seems.
“Of course, Ma. So, you miss Maggie and Roxanne, huh?”
“And you a little.”
I laugh.
“Thanks. Hey, I have a dangerous assignment for you and me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I’m thinking now my best shot is to visit Victor Wilson. I bet it would catch him off guard if I bring my ninety-two-year-old mother. I was more afraid of Walter Bartol. Victor’s just one of those guys who lives alone and mad at the world. Nobody understands him and that’s the way he wants it.
“Hey, put Danny on the phone so I can arrange a time.”
I pull on a nightgown, a flannel number, as I speak with Danny. We’re meeting at the same place, same time, and same crappy restaurant.
Then I am downstairs. Jack sits at the kitchen table. He looks like he’s made himself at home, drinking coffee and reading the paper. He probably let the dog out when he walked up the driveway to get the paper. I dutifully kept up my subscription, for Ma’s sake, but to me all the paper is good for is starting the fire at night.
“What’s going on in the world?” I ask Jack.
He folds the paper.
“Not much,” he says. “Good morning, by the way.”
“Morning to you, too. I thought for a moment you deserted me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because of our conversation last night.”
He raises a mug.
“It would take a lot more than that to scare me off, Isabel.”
“Glad to know.” I take the chair beside his. “I’ve got some news. I just got a call from my mother. She’s coming home tomorrow.”
“Shoot.”
“Shoot all right.” I eye Ma’s coffee machine. “I’m glad you made yourself at home.”
“I didn’t know how strong you like your coffee,” he says.
I get milk from the fridge.
“Oh, somewhere in the middle.” I sit down. His attention is on me as I pour the milk. “I need to ask you a serious question.”
He stretches back in his chair. He looks ready for anything.
“Go ahead. We might as well get everything out of the way.”
I blow a little air first.
“I believe you had nothing to do with Adela’s disappearance. But where were you when it all came down?”
Jack’s head rocks a bit.
“Fair enough. I was on a fishing trip to the Florida Keys with an old buddy when it happened. I can give you his name if you wanna check.” He pauses again, but I don’t respond. “I closed the Rooster for a few extra days. I hadn’t had a vacation in years. I found out about Adela being gone when I called home from the airport. Eleanor told me.” His head swung back and forth. “Like everybody else, I couldn’t understand what the hell happened to her. Until that hunter found her car, I thought maybe she ran off with some guy she met. She was flighty enough to do that even though I know she loved her son. She was a real good mother.”
“You didn’t have a vacation in years? Adela took one that August. You didn’t go with her?”
He shakes his head.
“She told me she went with a girlfriend to the Cape.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
“Before she went, I did. But I heard differently later on. Let’s just say she went to have a fun time. Ask my cousin. He was there.”
“Oh, Jack.”
He shrugs.
“I didn’t find out until months later, but I had my suspicions.” He lifts his mug. “I kinda went on the fishing trip to clear my head.”
“And?”
“It was great being out on the ocean. I could see for miles. That big sky. Don’t get me wrong. I love our woods, but sometimes they just hem you in. I was glad to be away from it all. I did a lot of thinkin’.”
“About what?”
“Adela and me. I was gonna go back and tell her I wanted her to cut out all the games. I loved her and didn’t want to hide it.” He takes a drink. “I told her as much before I left. Course, it was before I knew about her messin’ around with Fred.”
“How did she take it?”
“She said it was good I was goin’.”
“Ouch.”
Behind us the kettle begins a soft whistle.
“There’s one more thing. I did call her the night she disappeared. It was around eight. First the line was busy, but then I got a hold of her. I was heading home the next day. I wanted her to hear how I felt.” His voice breaks a bit. “For the first goddamned time she told me she loved me. Do you believe it?”
“Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Back with the Old Farts
I’m up early Friday morning to meet my brother halfway back east, and damn, I am out of coffee. Jack used the last of it yesterday. I haven’t bought any groceries since Ma left. I just lived on what I have in the house.
It’s not even seven. Jack left in the middle of the night because he knew I was heading out early. Oh, why not have coffee with the Old Farts? The store’s coffee only resembles what I drink, but it does give a buzz. Besides, it’s been a while since I tormented those guys.
Naturally, they are amused to see me make my way through the backroom.
“She’s back,” the Skinniest Old Fart announces.
They bend forward on their benches as they watch my approach.
“Morning, fellows,” I say as I walk past them to the coffee station. I pour myself the largest cup the store has and drop in some milk. I fish thr
ough my jeans pocket for fifty cents. Such a deal for coffee even if it’s bad. I can feel them all studying me from the back of my head.
I choose the bench with the Fattest Old Fart. He likes his space, but I’m not about to stand or squeeze between the others.
“What brings you here today?” he asks.
I raise the white Styrofoam cup.
“Coffee. I’m all out at home.” I cringe a bit when I take the first swallow. “What’s the latest gossip?”
The Serious Old Fart beats his buddies.
“Heard the owner and the new bartender at the Rooster are getting mighty friendly,” he says.
The others chuckle on cue.
“I heard that, too,” I slap back.
More chuckles.
“How’s the case going?” the Serious Old Fart asks.
“I had a serious dead end this week.”
“We know,” the Bald Old Fart says. “That Walter Bartol fellow. It was a good lead to follow. Never liked the guy.”
I nod.
“You still wouldn’t like him. I sure didn’t when I went to his house.”
“Heard you had a body guard,” the Fattest Old Fart says.
I down the rest of the coffee and crush the cup.
“Sounds like you guys are keeping a close eye on me.” I turn toward the Serious Old Fart, the one I suspect of calling me. “Did you see me driving around town checking on the properties that had permits that year?”
They shake their heads.
“Anything there?” the Skinniest Old Fart asks.
“Maybe. Too soon to tell. But I’ll let you fellows know.” I stand. “Gotta hit the road. I’m picking up my mother. Until next time.”
I hear a chorus of chuckles.
Ma Comes Home
Ma wants to hear anything and everything about the case as we zip along the Mass. Turnpike. The dog, Maggie, who jumped all over the parking lot when she saw my mother, sits happily in the back seat. Ma’s stuff is in the cargo hold along with a box of wrapped Christmas presents. Crap, I have to start thinking about that.
“What were you up to yesterday?” she asks.
I go over my research at Town Hall. Ronnie, the town clerk and the daughter of Andrew Snow’s cousin, had everything I needed when I arrived. She let me work in the board of selectmen’s meeting room where I could spread out the paperwork on the large table. I used to cover the meetings here, sitting opposite the three-member board. Covering these meetings stopped being important to the Daily Star a long time ago, except when there’s a huge controversy, but people are close-mouthed about those if you don’t report on the garden-variety meetings.
Chasing The Case Page 21