by JM Addison
*
Dell pulled into the driveway of the deceased Mrs. Chandler. The house looked the same as it had a couple of days ago, still had the customary yellow “Police Line – Do Not Cross” ribbon placed in front of the doors. He went around back and entered through the unlocked door that led to the kitchen. Dried blood stains were still noticeable, but that was no surprise – who would clean them up? Usually the family would be allowed to, but in this case, one family member – Chris – was missing, the other – Mara – on the run from everyone.
He wasn’t sure what to look for, but he was hoping for a clue. Something that might indicate the whereabouts of the elusive ‘Fiddler’s Rock’. He went upstairs to the bedroom area and found Mrs. Chandler’s room. One of the other rooms was used for storage and, from the sewing paraphernalia, probably a sewing hobby of Mrs. Chandler. The third room was still a bedroom, likely Chris’ room since he would have been last to move out and the fact that it lacked any female amenities. He rummaged around a bit, but could find nothing to hint at what he was looking for.
After about another hour of frustration, he left. Perhaps neighbors would be of some assistance. Was there a library in town? There should be someone around who could identify the location of this place for him. The main part of the town was not far from the farm house, he would probably find the most success where he could find people, so he thought having a look around town would be the next best place to check.
As he drove towards the village of Ashbury itself, he made a call to the Bedford Station to check on the surveillance operation of his car parked at MIT. He waited to be patched through to the officer assigned to watch the vehicle. Since it was in Cambridge, it was someone he would not know personally. At least people were taking this case more seriously now. Hopefully the criminal influence and control over the police that had been hampering his efforts were finally beginning to erode. With the people from Sequitus able to provide significant details now, the case was finally starting to unravel. As it did, the twisted mire of deceit, scandal and blatant crime grew deeper. The one thing he, or anyone else for that matter, did not have was evidence. The Sequitus people claimed there was a recording made of their little amateur escapade, but nothing was found. If it were true, then Damian Sanders or his goons must have taken it before the police arrived on the scene.
On one hand he was frustrated that the unskilled team of Mara, Mike and Annette tried to take matters into their own hands. On the other hand, he couldn’t really blame them. What were they supposed to do? Go to the police? Mara already tried that and it almost got her killed. For all he knew, perhaps it did get her killed.
If he made a poor assumption and it turned out that this place was not even in Ashbury, he would miss the meeting. If he could not find anyone who might be able to tell him where it was, he would miss the meeting.
If she was captured, there would be no meeting at Fiddler’s Rock at all.
He had only one choice at this point, find it and hope for the best.
He was finally patched through to the surveillance officer and found that no activity had been observed. There were supposedly a couple of other cops on campus asking questions, but so far, nothing had turned up.
As Dell hung up the phone, he pulled into town. He noticed that the earlier sunshine was giving way to some much nastier looking clouds. ‘How appropriate’ he thought to himself. Trying to find someone when you had no idea where to look was hard enough. Trying to find them in the dark and in a storm was even worse.