by Mary Mantle
"So, you guys aren't going to do anything?"
"We are sorry, ma'am, but friends and family think people are missing, and they show up all the time. That is why we wait 24 hours."
"But it could have been longer."
"Come down to the station tonight at 7 pm, and we can file it."
"Seriously? It is close to that now, and we are in her apartment, which was unlocked, which she would never do. Not in a trillion years. I think something happened to her. Maybe even kidnapped."
The older officer patted me on the back and said, "Ma'am, let us do the police work. Okay?"
I nodded.
The younger officer seemed like he wanted to help out, but didn't dare to stand up to the older man.
The older officer said, "Have a good evening, Ma'am."
I was alone in the apartment after they left. Again, the local police department couldn't do the right thing. It was almost like they tried to mess up. I needed to sit down, take a deep breath, and meditate for a few minutes. There could be a clue to her whereabouts in the apartment, so I needed to be thorough.
Maybe she decided spur of the moment to leave, but more likely, she was kidnapped, and perhaps there was a clue. Maybe something she was investigating on the case.
I glanced around the kitchen. Nothing interesting.
Her bedroom had a queen-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a desk with a computer. I figured her home office would be the place to start. It was a mess with papers all over it. Most of what I saw written was chicken scratch. Safe to say, Hannah's handwriting wasn't good. I kept flipping the papers over, and I saw something that said, Scott Carter on it. That gave me pause. What business would she have with the private investigator?
I pulled my phone out and took a picture of the paper. Nothing else in the apartment struck me as important, but I took a few photos of the room so I would have them later, just in case.
It was easier for me to talk to Scott Carter then try to find Kitty. At that moment, I was most suspicious of Kitty and Mr. Thompson, but Scott Carter was a loose end.
Scott Carter's office was on my way home, so I figured I would stop by.
15
Scott Carter Follow-Up
As I pulled up to Scott Carter's office, the same SUV as before was parked in the driveway. I walked to the front door, which was unlocked, so I went inside. The receptionist must have gone for the day; there was no one there. I shouted, "Scott, are you there?"
I didn't see him, but I heard him. "Is that you again?"
He stumbled into the room wearing sweatpants and looked like he was in the middle of eating a TV dinner in his living room.
"My friend Hannah, I haven't seen her. I went to her house looking for her, and I saw your name written down in her notebook," I said.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"Hannah is my best friend, and the thing is, I haven't been able to get a hold of her in the last few days. That is one hundred percent, unlike her. When I went to her apartment, the door was ajar. I went inside, and she wasn't there. She's the type of person that always calls me back in half an hour from when I call her. Something strange is going on. I called the cops, and they don't care. I looked around her apartment, and sure enough, she had your name written down on a piece of paper, so how do you know her."
"Well, maybe she looked up private investigators in the phone book or found my name online," Scott said. He shifted around and looked at the floor and then back up at me. "That doesn't mean she called me. I don't think I've ever heard of her. I don't know any Hannah that does insurance work."
I was sure he was hiding something.
I said, "Well, I just hope I find out that you're not lying to me. If you want Kevin to play on the summer baseball team, I planned on talking to the coach next time I see him, but if you want to play hardball, Kevin will miss out on the confidence-building that the team would offer."
Scott didn't say anything, just thought about it.
"I know you're hiding something," I said as I headed for the door.
On the way to my car, right before I opened the door, Scott said, "Come on now. Come back and let's have a little talk."
We sat down on the fake leather couch, and he said, "Okay, I guess I'll spill the beans. She called me a day and a half ago asking if I did any work for Gary Hollister."
"How did she know to contact you?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe the same way you did. Anyhow, I told her the same thing I told you. Because I did the work, and Gary died, I decided I don't want to be involved."
"Did she say anything else about what she might do, or did she seem suspicious of Kitty and Mr. Thompson?"
"Tatiana, I'm not sure what she was thinking. I just told her the same things as you. Whatever she did or decided to do was up to her. I would imagine she came to the same conclusions as you."
My first thought was that Hannah went out to Kitty's house by herself. Maybe Kitty and Mr. Thompson got suspicious and kidnapped her.
It doesn't make sense because she was the insurance worker that filed the claim, and it would be risky for them to kidnap her, but maybe Hannah got close to solving the mystery.
Everything was pointing toward them, and if it wasn't them, then I'm not sure what happened. I started to feel that a head-to-head confrontation with Kitty and Mr. Thompson was needed. They look guilty, sound guilty, and that means they probably are guilty.
I asked, "Personally, what do you think? Do you think Kitty and Mr. Thompson had anything to do with Gary's accident?"
Scott took a deep breath and said, "I don't think there's enough evidence to decide either way, but it feels like they have a lot of explaining to do about things. If I had to make a bet and someone told me that what happened to Gary was intentional, I would bet my money on them."
I nodded and headed out the door.
"Are we good? You still going to talk to the coach for Kevin?" Scott asked.
"Yeah, we're good."
16
Cop Cars and Faith
I decided to drive out to Kitty's house and confront her and see if she knew where Hannah was. The drive up to Cedar Cove Heights went by in a flash. I wasn't able to get to her house. When I got close, I saw a bunch of cop cars at the entrance. Their red and blue lights flashed; they weren't letting anyone on the property.
Something must have happened. My heart jumped; I hoped Hannah didn't get hurt. I got out and went to a serious-looking patrol officer. He wouldn't tell me what was going on and told me to leave.
I didn't know what to do, so I went back to my car. My brain felt like it was going to explode. I needed to get answers and find Hannah.
My only inside connection to the police department was Faith, and I assumed she was at work.
I got in my car and headed toward downtown. I arrived at the police station, which is a three-story red brick building, but I couldn't go empty-handed. Faith liked her snacks and food. I noticed a bakery across the street, which had cakes and other desserts.
Personally, I don't have much of a sweet tooth, and I try not to eat many sugary desserts. Back in Russia, desserts don't have much sugar in them, and a lot of the American desserts are loaded with sugar and are way too sweet for me. The second I went through the door, my sense of smell was overwhelmed with the scent of fresh cookies, donuts, and cakes. While I don't eat many desserts, I do enjoy the aroma. I looked through the glass display at different items.
They had samples of cookies on the counter, and I tried the oatmeal raisin cookie, which was pretty good. Sweet, but not too sweet.
I said, "I'll take four of those oatmeal cookies, and you might as well throw a chocolate chip cookie in there too."
The short shopkeeper with dark hair used metal tongs and put the five cookies in a little white paper bag. I paid and headed over to the police station.
My relationship with Faith changed by the moment. It went from a relationship revolving around her daughter's piano lessons to one where I'm tryin
g to get information out of her, calling and stopping by her work. She's an alpha female, so I hoped she didn't take it the wrong way and get mad.
I had reservations about going to the police station where she is a dispatcher, and I didn't know the exact details of the job, but I imagined that it required her to be attached to the phone so she could take 911 calls. The only thing that gave me a sparkle of hope was that I figured she had to go to the bathroom once in a while, and when she did, there must be a coworker or a second dispatcher that covers the phone calls.
Inside I had to walk up a few stairs, and there was a middle-aged lady behind the counter, and she asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yes, um, I'm Faith's friend, and I was in this part of town. I know she's probably working hard, but I wanted to swing by and say hi real quick and give her some cookies to help her get through the shift."
"Well, usually she can't get away, but if it is only for a couple of minutes, I can go back and tell her. Are those some of the oatmeal raisin cookies from across the street?"
"They sure are. If you want, you can have one for yourself."
She took the cookies and said thank you. She walked back down the hallway, and I lost sight of her.
A few minutes later, Faith came out, and she was eating the chocolate chip cookie. She said, "Tatiana, you're a lifesaver. My blood sugar is getting low, and I needed to eat something. The phones have been ringing off the hook today. What's up?"
"Well, I was just in the area and hoped I could ask you a favor."
"A favor? Only if you brought a six-pack of Busch Light." She laughed.
"Do you know what's going on up at the Hollister place? I'm worried about my friend Hannah who is missing. I think she might have gone to the Hollister house. I went up there and saw a million cop cars."
Faith looked around, making sure that people weren't listening. With a booming voice, she said, "I haven't heard anything about your friend Hannah, and I can't tell you what happened at the Hollister house."
Faith gave me a wink and leaned closer and whispered, "Someone got poisoned up there."
"Oh, my God. Is it Kitty, Hannah, or Mr. Thompson?"
"I don't know for sure, but all I can say is it was a male."
"So it was Mr. Thompson then?"
She smiled and talked loud for others to hear. "Sorry, I can't share any of that information with you."
"Okay, thank you for your help. If you happen to hear anything about my friend Hannah, can you call or text me?"
"Will do. Thanks for the cookies."
Faith headed back down the hall, and it looked like she was taking down another cookie.
Minute by minute, everything changed. I pulled my phone and tried calling Hannah again, nothing.
In my car, I decided whether I should go home or see if Mr. Thompson was at his office. I realized that driving by his office would be a waste. If he didn't get poisoned, he might not even be at the office.
Home it was.
Before I started driving, my phone rang. It was a blocked phone number, and I assumed it was spam, which seems to happen several times per day. The call went to voicemail. It was a message from a lady working at Cove Mental Health; Hannah was there and wanted me to visit.
17
Cove Mental Health
It all made sense. Hannah, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, probably called them to pick her up. Now she was safe; a sense of relief swept across every bone in my body. The thought of her getting harmed at the Hollister house was gone.
I had never been to Cove Mental Health. It was on the edge of town and took about 15 minutes to get to. It's an old elementary school they remodeled and turned into the facility.
Working at the front desk was a tall, dark-haired woman with eyes that were too close together.
I said, "Hi, I'm here to see my friend Hannah."
"Sign this."
She put a clipboard with a sign-in sheet on the counter. I signed my name, time, and date. There were about ten sign-ins above me, and I recognized one of the names. It almost paralyzed me. Sally Hollister.
My first thought was, how? She was in a wheelchair, but the image of her muddy shoes flashed into my mind. Perhaps she was more mobile than everyone thought. Why would she want to come to visit Hannah? Would she want to kill her son?
The receptionist took the clipboard and said, "Wait a few minutes, and an orderly will come out to get you."
I stood frozen in thought.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm fine. Thank you. I will sit down and wait."
The waiting room had ten chairs with a few coffee tables that had some magazines on them. I picked one up and flipped through it, but my mind was a jumbled mess.
I texted Tanner and told him what I was doing. A few minutes later, a guy in blue scrubs came out, the orderly.
He had a deep baritone voice and said, "Are you here to see Hannah?"
"Yes."
"Okay, follow me."
We left the lobby and walked through a door that he opened with a key card. It was a long white hallway that I imagined used to have lockers, but now it was bright and antiseptic. It appeared in the remodel, they added more doors in the hall, and the rooms were half the size of the old classrooms.
He stopped at room 22, smiled, and said, "She is in there. If you need anything, I will be nearby."
I walked in and saw Hannah lying down on the bed. She sat up. Her hair was a frazzled mess.
"Hey, Hannah. How are you doing?"
She looked around and said, "Okay, I guess."
"How long are you in here for?"
"Not sure. I need to get better. This has been building up, probably for years, but this Hollister thing seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back."
When she talked, she was more calm than usual. I assumed they had her on some anti-depressants.
"Can you leave anytime you want?"
"Yeah, but the doctor thinks I should stay for at least a week."
"Did you tell your boss?"
"Not yet, but I doubt I have a job to go back to?"
"Don't say that. I think you are blowing everything out of proportion. Did Sally Hollister come by to visit you?"
"Who?"
I took a deep breath and said. "Gary's mom. An older lady. Did an older lady come by to see you?"
"Yeah, an older lady came by. I don't remember her name."
"What did she want? Was she walking around?"
"Yep. She walked into the room like you. For her age, she seemed to be in good shape. I can't talk about what she wanted."
"Why not?"
"It is a trigger. It is stressful. The doctor said I need to avoid those triggers."
I shook my head and said, "It seems like we need to control our reactions, not avoid things, but they are the doctors, not me. I saw Sally at the retirement home, and she was in a wheelchair, playing the role of an old, frail lady."
Hannah didn't say anything. She grabbed a controller on the nightstand and turned the TV on.
I asked, "Why did you want me to come by?"
She smiled for the first time. "I wanted to see my best friend."
I went to hug her and felt terrible. She was battling anxiety and her demons. All I cared about was trying to figure out who killed Gary Hollister, which at the moment seemed like a pointless endeavor.
"I'm sorry, Hannah. You'll get better soon. Tanner and I are here to help you any way we can."
"Thank you."
She hugged me tightly.
After the hug, I said, "Well, I probably should get home and cook some dinner. Otherwise, Tanner will be starving."
"Tatiana, thank you for coming."
As I walked out the door, I looked back, and Hannah seemed more at peace than I'd seen her in a long time. All I could think about was Sally Hollister and the fact she might have killed her son.
18
Visit Chief Smith
After I left Cove Mental Health, I dro
ve back to the police station. Not to see Faith, this time, I wanted to inform Chief Leroy Smith of my latest discovery.
I felt confident that Sally Hollister was the killer, but my nerves sparked up as I pulled up outside the police station. I thought I was nervous when I talked to Faith, but that was nothing compared to now. Faith was a friend or at least an acquaintance.
I know who Chief Smith is, but I wouldn't say he was a friend. Never talked to the guy. After a few minutes, I built up the courage and walked into the police station. The receptionist, a uniformed police officer with dark black hair, looked up from his desk.
"How can I help you?" he asked.
"Hi, I'd like to see Chief Smith about a murder."
"Do you have any evidence in this matter?"
"How about you let me talk to the chief, and I'll let him decide that."
"Okay, I'll tell the chief, but I'm not sure he will see you." He picked up his phone. "Hi Chief, there's a lady out here who says she knows someone who is a murderer." He nodded a few times. "Okay, we will send her back."
My heart rate increased as I walked down the hallway toward the Chief's office. The corridor opened up to a detective bureau with several uniformed and plainclothes officers sitting at cubicles. I went inside the Chief's office. It had floor to ceiling windows—a nice big corner office. The Chief was a tall man with a beer belly spilling over his belt from years of drinking that matched his red nose.
"So you know about a murder, well I'm about ready to leave, so you better make it quick," he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
"I think Sally Hollister killed her son and that she is behind whatever happened at the Hollister house with Mr. Thompson."
"Are you serious? You mean to tell me that an 80-year-old woman who uses a wheelchair did it? So, she somehow got out of the retirement home and cut her son's brake lines. As if that isn't far fetched enough, she got out of the retirement house a second time and poisoned Mr. Thompson."
