Chapter Twelve

I picked Joe up at the airport and headed to mom and dad's house. I filled him in on the case as I drove. It was a case now. Officially. One dead body, badly decomposed. A family member had positively identified the elderly woman. She had been missing for six weeks.

How she died was left to the coroner's autopsy. The results would be available tomorrow.

Another woman was still missing. I wondered if her fate would be the same. Buried in an unmarked grave.

Detective Dietz, and I, wondered if Bayport had a killer on the loose. Our only lead was Evan Christianson. He might have seen the killer. Interrogating Evan was now a priority. Dietz agreed I could be part of the interrogation. Questioning was set for tomorrow morning.

Joe and I arrived at our childhood home, a large Victorian style house. A huge elm tree stood in the front yard. How old was it? Older than the house, but beyond that no one knew. A bench swing dangled from a sturdy branch.

"Some things never change." Joe pointed at the bench swing.

I nodded.

Joe tipped his head, his eyes traveled up the tree. "I remember us climbing this beast. It's a wonder we didn't fall and break our necks." He ran a hand over the gnarly trunk. "I love this old tree."

I loved the tree, too. Callie and I had shared many a tender moment on that swing. Nestled side by side, our hands locked together, her head resting on my shoulder. Cool night breezes had given us reason to snuggle closer and tighter. We'd spent many a night gliding back and forth making plans for our future, a future that sadly never came.

"Thinking about Callie?" Joe's voice caught me off guard.

My head snapped in his direction. Was I that easy to read?

Joe clamped a hand on my shoulder and smiled. He jerked his head in the direction of the second floor of the house. "I used to watch you and Callie from my bedroom window."

Of course, and I'd done the same when Joe had a date. He'd shared a kiss with more than one lovely lady at this tree and on that swing.

"If only this tree could talk," I said.

"Yeah," Joe sighed, "but once you took up with Callie, you monopolized it. I had to find a new spot."

"Oh, you poor .."

The front door opened and mom stepped onto the wrap-around porch. "You two going to stand in the front yard all day or are you coming in?"

"Nice to see you, too, mom," Joe called out.

Mom wiped her hands on a washcloth she held. "Don't get smart with me, Joseph Hardy. Now, come up here and give me a hug."

Hugs and greetings were exchanged then mom said, "Aunt Trudy and Stan will be here any minute. Your father's in the backyard trying to get the grill started. Maybe you boys can give him a hand."

Dad may be the world greatest detective, but grills and charcoal are a mystery to him. He never gets the ratio right. Either too many coals and not enough lighter fluid or just the opposite. Too much lighter fluid and not enough coals.

Joe and I went to rescue dad. As teens, we'd had plenty of chances to hone our fire making skills. Dad was gone a lot and .. well, boys will be boys.

We found dad engulfed in black smoke. He'd tried something new, wood chips. Too many of them.

Joe and I got things under control while dad went for refreshments. Beer to be exact.

Dad, Joe and I grilled the hamburgers and hot dogs. We discussed our childhood and enjoyed a laugh over pranks we'd pulled. Dad reminded us of dumb things we'd done as teenagers and we laughed harder.

Aunt Trudy and her partner, Stan, arrived just as the last hamburger came off the grill. Best word to describe Aunt Trudy – brusque, and at 65 that wasn't going to change. She had moved into a retirement home a few years ago and met Stan there. He was the first, and only man, I'd known Aunt Trudy to be with, but then, I had never paid much attention when it came to Aunt Trudy's personal life. It seemed to me, Stan was a retired college professor, but again I hadn't paid much attention.

We ate outside at the picnic table under tall maple trees. I remembered when those trees were barely bigger than dad. During dinner Aunt Trudy rattled on about the many and varied activities offered at the Seaside Retirement Home. She and Stan sure had a busy life there. Then Aunt Trudy said something that stopped me dead in my tracks. I'd been on the way to the house, to the kitchen, empty plate and beer bottle in hand.

"You know, we have another missing person. Now you tell me, how in the world can one small retirement home, in one small town have two missing people in two months."

I spun and headed back to the table. "What? What did you say, Aunt Trudy?"

"You heard me." Trudy brushed crumbs off the table and ignored my pointed stare.

I put my plate and beer bottle on the table and sat across from my Aunt. "When did the first person go missing?" I was staring again, couldn't help it.

Aunt Trudy met my gaze. "Oh, now I've got your attention." Then it dawned on her there might be more to this. "Oh, please. Please tell me you're not involved in this. For Pete's sakes, you just got here."

"I might be involved. This might involve Callie's little boy, Evan. You heard about him? Dad and I were out last night helping search for him."

"You found him though. Safe and sound. I heard it on the news." Color Aunt Trudy surprised by the possible connection between the missing women and Evan. She looked from me to dad for an explanation. Neither of us gave her one.

"True," I said, "but there's more to the case. Not everything was on the news."

"Well, if you're involved then you already know about the missing women. I don't think I can help you. You probably know more than I do."

Aunt Trudy can be stubborn at times. Difficult at others. This time she was both, but eventually I pried information out of her.

Ellen Sims, 80 years old, had gone missing six weeks ago. Vanished without a trace. No one noticed her absence until the second day when she didn't come down for dinner in the dining hall. It was out of character for Ellen to miss any meals in the dining hall, let alone two days' worth.

The police were called and her apartment searched. Nothing unusual came to light. The police called her immediate family, a son and daughter. Both were distressed to learn of their mother's disappearance. Neither had any idea what had happened to her and said she would never leave without informing someone. Residents of the retirement home agreed.

Posters went up around town. The local radio and news channel kept Ellen's name in the headlines for a month then let the story die. Now we knew, Ellen had died, too. Dietz and I had found her this morning, buried in the forest. How she got there remained a mystery.

Aunt Trudy said the second woman, Adeline Humphries, had gone missing about a week ago. Like Ellen, Adeline was 80.

"Ellen and Adeline were close friends." Aunt Trudy shot me a questioning look. "You don't suppose that's why they're both missing, do you? The fact they were friends."

"I don't suppose anything." A vague answer. The only one I had at the time.

Mom got us off the subject of missing women. It was hers' and dad's anniversary, she reminded us. Time to celebrate. Champagne and cake moved the party in a more festive direction.

Memories of first dates were shared. Dad was quite the dashing fellow according to mom. Still was, she claimed. No matter what, he'd made a good catch, too. He readily admitted mom was the better half.

More stories of Joe and me followed. Parents never tire of letting their children know how dumb they were, or how stupid their childish actions were.

It was well after 8pm when Aunt Trudy and Stan called it a night. I was beat by then and called it a night, too. We still had the real anniversary party set for tomorrow at the Seaside Retirement Home. The home rented out their activity room for such events.

As I plodded up the stairs I remembered Dietz and I had an interview with Evan tomorrow morning. What could Evan tell us? What had he seen? What did any of this have to do with the Seaside Retirement Home?

I tumbled into bed the Seaside Retirement Home uppermost in my mind. The two missing women had lived there. They had been friends. How long had they lived there? Was that important? Was there a third friend?

Other questions popped in my head, but I pushed them aside. I was too tired to concentrate. The retirement home. Something about it. Couldn't put my finger on it. Had to check it out tomorrow. I'd talk to Joe in the morning. We could go early, get to the retirement home and have a look around.

And with that thought, I passed into oblivion.


A/N: Sorry about the long wait. School's finished and I have more time to write. Enjoy.