Rest in Peace (22 page)

We pulled up in front of Mabel’s house ten minutes later. She and Bob Turner stood by the patrol car. When she saw Sarah, she threw her hands up and came running.

Sarah let her grandmother hug her tightly. “Oh Sarah, baby. What were you thinking? I was worried ‘bout to death.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, Grandma.” She reached up a finger and wiped the tears from Mabel’s cheek. “I really am sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Okay, my angel, I won’t cry anymore.” She threw me a look that held fathoms of gratitude. “How can I thank you?”

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Sarah made the decision to come home. All I did was give her a ride.” I winked, then turned to the sheriff, who’d walked over and stood beside me.

“Good work.” His eyes held a glimmer of respect in which I sort of basked. Most of the time he let me know, in his eyes, I was a big pain in the neck.

“Thanks, Sheriff. But I didn’t do much. It was logical she’d head in that direction.”

“My thoughts, too. Was just getting ready to head that way myself.” He grinned. “I guess we were on the same wavelength.”

“Uh-huh. As they say, great minds think alike.”

He chortled. “I guess that’s right. Okay, guess I’m not needed here.” He got in his car and pulled away.

“Won’t you come in for coffee?” Mabel called to me. “I’ve got donuts, too.”

“No, thanks. I’d better get back to the lodge.” I leaned over and looked in Sarah’s eyes. “I won’t forget.”

She nodded. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll look forward to that. Maybe I’ll even have news for you by the time you get home from school. But don’t be disappointed if it takes a little longer than that.”

I got the phone number from Mabel and the name of the plant where her son worked.

When I got to the lodge, I tiptoed in and up the stairs. Not a sound came from any of the rooms, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I went up to my apartment.

I crawled into bed without changing. “Thank You, Lord, that Sarah is safe and in her own bed. I need Your help to keep my promise about her dad.”

The alarm clock woke me. I stretched and yawned, wishing I could turn over and go back to sleep. A quick shower revived me.

When I got downstairs, the sound of singing came from the kitchen, and I walked in to see a smiling Mabel. Sarah was finishing her oatmeal and toast. She ran to brush her teeth, and before she headed out the door with her backpack snugly against her back, she turned and gave me a wink, then mouthed, “Don’t forget.”

I stood on the front porch and waved as Miss Jane’s Cadillac backed out into the street. Miss Georgina waved back, and then Miss Jane followed Frank’s truck down the street. I went back inside and straight to my office. I wanted to call the college, but I knew I needed to keep my promise to Sarah first.

I punched in the number of the plant where Mabel’s son worked. A friendly voice answered, “Mason’s Metal Works.”

“Hello, my name is Victoria Storm. I’m trying to locate Bobby Carey. He is an employee there.”

“One moment, please. I’ll transfer you to his department.”

Country music screamed into my ear, and I jerked the receiver away. Good grief. I liked country music sometimes. After all, it was Grandpa’s favorite. Hillbilly music, he’d called it. But it was ridiculous the way they had it turned up.

“Hello, this is Dave,” the deep voice boomed, and I quickly put the receiver back to my ear.

“Hello, I’m trying to locate Bobby Carey. Is he there? And may I speak to him please?”

“Who’s calling?” Was that belligerence? Or something else? Wariness, maybe?

“My name is Victoria Storm, and I’m calling for his mother and daughter. They haven’t heard from him in a while and are getting worried.”

“Sorry, we haven’t heard from him either. He ain’t been to work for days and isn’t answering his phone. If you find him, tell him if he wants his job he needs to call in.”

“Yes, I will. And if you hear from him, will you please ask him to call his mother?”

“Sure. What’s the phone number?”

“He knows the number. Thank you.”

I put the receiver down and leaned back, my fingers drumming the wooden arm of my desk chair. I hadn’t expected this. Now what?

I toyed with the idea of calling Benjamin. But the very fact that he hadn’t yet called made me hesitate. I didn’t want to interrupt if he was on the verge of finding answers.

I picked the phone back up and punched in Bobby’s cell phone number. After two rings, I was switched to his voice mail. I left a message for him to call me or his mother and hung up.

I scrolled through my rolodex until I found the number of the university in Springfield. The receptionist put me through to the Foreign Language Department.

“Yes, how may I help you?” The male voice sounded polite but hurried.

“Hello, my name is Victoria Storm. I’m attempting to find someone who translates German.”

“German, you say? Our Professor Johannsen would be the person to talk to. I’ll switch you over.”

“Thank you.”

“Professor Johannsen. May I help you?” The accent was definitely German, and I sighed with relief.

I gave him my name and told him what I was in need of.

“You say these documents and letters date back to the 1940s?” His voice sounded charged with excitement.

“Yes sir. Some of them are mid–World War II, but most are after 1945.”

“Very interesting. I would be delighted to translate for you. Can you meet me here in my office around one o’clock this afternoon?”

I calculated the time and decided I’d be able to leave the letters and be back here before Sarah got home from school.

“Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you for meeting with me so promptly.”

“Not at all. I’ll see you at one.” He disconnected the call.

I went to the kitchen, where Mabel stood over the chopping block cutting onions into quarters. She looked up hopefully.

I shook my head, wondering if I should tell her about the conversation with the man at the plant. I knew she’d worry more, but she needed to know.

“I’m sorry. I spoke to someone in his department. They haven’t heard from him in several days. Can you think of any friends or relatives who might know something about his whereabouts?”

“Yes. There was a couple Bobby and Carol used to talk about. I never met them. Now what was their names?” She thought for a moment, shaking her head, then her eyes lit. “Borden. Their last name was Borden. He was Tom, and she was Nancy. Will that help?”

“I’m not sure, but we can try. I don’t suppose Sarah would know their phone number or address?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask her when she gets home from school.”

“Okay, but I’m going to call information. Maybe we can find out something before Sarah gets home.”

I returned to my office and called long-distance information, giving them the city and the names.

Soon, an automated voice said, “Please hold for the number.”

I grabbed a pen and sticky note and wrote it down. Then, on a deep breath, I punched in the number.

“Hello?” Expectation filled the woman’s voice.

“Hello, my name is Victoria Storm. Am I speaking to Nancy Borden?”

“Ye–yes.”

“Mrs. Borden, I’m searching for Bobby Carey. I understand you and your husband used to be friends with him and his wife, Carol.”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I’m trying to find Bobby. Would you by any chance know his whereabouts?”

A short laugh sounded through the earpiece. “If I did, I’d know my husband’s whereabouts.”

“Your husband is missing, too?”

“I don’t know about missing. He and Bobby left here yesterday, three sheets to the wind, if you know what I mean. I haven’t heard from them since.”

Nausea gripped me. How was I going to tell his mother about this? And what could we tell Sarah?

“So Bobby was with you and your husband yesterday?”

She laughed, and when she spoke, her words slurred. “Bobby’s been here since last week. Came over all depressed. I couldn’t blame him much. That wife of his, dumping him and the kid the way she did.” She inhaled and, after a few seconds, exhaled loudly. Then wracking coughs assaulted my ears. “Sorry, these cigs are gonna be the death of me. Anyway, Tom bought a couple of six-packs, and that was just the beginning. Bobby went and bought hard liquor, and one thing led to another. They’ve been drinking for days. Like I said, I don’t know where they are. They’ll likely come dragging in sooner or later.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Borden. Would you mind taking down my phone number?”

“Sure, just a minute.” I could hear her scrambling around. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the number?”

I spoke slowly so she’d be sure to hear it correctly, then had her repeat it back to me. I suspected she’d had a few drinks herself. “If he does return, will you ask him to please call me or his mother?”

“Sure. I’ll tell him.”

I went back to the kitchen. Mabel was seasoning whole fryers to roast. Dread and fear filled her eyes when she looked at me. “What is it? My boy’s not dead, is he?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. In fact, I have information he was alive and well yesterday. I’ve left your phone number and mine with a message for him to call.” I gave her a bright smile.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me, Victoria. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I never have been good at keeping secrets. Case in point, the way Mrs. Miller always got the family secrets out of me.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I wanted to spare you, but you’re his mother, and I haven’t the right to keep this from you.”

She sat, eyes straight ahead, as I gave her the information I’d gotten from Nancy Borden.

Tears filled her eyes, and she reached for a tissue and blotted them away. “Well, I didn’t expect this. I never knew Bobby was a drinker. I guess it just got to be too much for him. He was so crazy about Carol. Don’t know what I’ll tell Sarah, though.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll get over this. It’s probably a one-time thing.”

“I hope so. Thanks for hunting him down.” She picked up one of the roasters and placed it in a large pan, then didthe same with the other. She covered them both with the lid and placed the pan in the refrigerator. Apparently, the conversation was over.

“Okay. I have to run over to Springfield and meet someone on business. I should be back before Sarah gets here. If Benjamin calls, ask him to please call me back.”

I went upstairs to change. How much should we tell Sarah that would let her know her father was safe without thinking he didn’t care about her enough to call her? I said a quick prayer as I changed into dress slacks and jacket. I hadn’t been on a university campus since I’d graduated ten years ago.

I retrieved a set of the documents from my filing cabinet. As I made the hour-and-a-half drive to Springfield, varying emotions fought inside me. Sadness and heartbreak for Sarah’s situation, and a tinge of excitement about the documents.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

I
pulled my van into the visitors parking area. A little overwhelmed by the massive campus, I went searching for the building that housed the Foreign Language Department. Thanks to a friendly young student, within a few minutes I was ushered into Professor Johannsen’s office. Immediately, the smell of furniture polish and old leather wafted up my nostrils.

The professor, who appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies, sat behind a massive oak desk.

When he saw me standing there, he stood and gave a slight bow, then motioned to the wine-colored leather chair in front of his desk. “Please sit down, Miss Storm. I am Professor Johannsen.”

When I was seated, he returned to his chair. “You have something to show me?”

“Yes.” I reached into my oversize bag and took out the envelope in which I’d stuffed the copies. I handed them across the desk to him.

With a nod in my direction, he shook the documents onto his desk. He picked up one at random. Then another.

“Hmm. These two are merely receipts for merchandise.” He gave me a questioning glance.

“Yes, but I still need them translated. Please don’t leave anything out.”

“Very well.” He appeared disappointed. I hoped he’d find something that would interest or even intrigue him. If I was right about Clyde’s involvement in crime, I was pretty sure he would.