Lost in America

by A. S. French

  She glanced over the seats and what filled them.

  ‘Are you collecting for something, Minister?’

  Most of the chairs contained bags full of clothes and shoes. Below them stood boxes of food and bottles of water.

  Rennie’s grin continued to glow.

  ‘We provide these things for whoever needs them. In difficult economic times, we must all do what we can for those less fortunate than us, and the church should play a leading role in that.’ His smile wavered a little, but the sparkle grew behind his eyes as he studied her. ‘You appear to be a long way from home, Agent Snow. How can the First Church of the Baptist help you?’

  She decided not to tell him she was plain old Astrid Snow, thinking the misconception Campbell had created might aid her.

  ‘We’re here about one of your employees, Caitlin Cruz.’

  ‘We’re an equal congregation, Agent Snow. There is no hierarchy of bishops or priests exercising authority over members. The church is self-governing and self-supporting, made up of members, each with a role to play. We encourage those attending to become members through baptism, which entitles them to vote at the church meeting where all decisions occur. Final authority rests not with the Minister or Deacons, but with church members.’

  It was a nice little speech, and she wondered if he was aware of Cruz’s murder and the long spiel was a delaying tactic. If Angie Delaney knew about Caitlin’s death, and it seemed the rest of those in the diner knew of the murders, too, then surely he did?

  Campbell stepped forward to do her duties. ‘We have some bad news about Caitlin, Minister Rennie.’

  The light disappeared from him. ‘Yes, Officer Campbell, I’m aware of what happened to Caitlin and her children.’ He twisted his head to gaze at the large painting of Jesus on the ceiling. ‘They are all with Our Lord now, in a much better place than this world.’

  Astrid gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was containing his grief because he truly believed they were better off.

  ‘Can you tell us what work she did for the church?’

  He lowered his head to stare at her, providing an expression she wasn’t unfamiliar with: that look certain people had when they believed they were not only the most important person in the room, but probably the world as well. She’d seen it from presidents and prime ministers, kings and queens, CEOs and managers, generals and majors, crime lords and drug barons, and even from serial killers, but this was the first time from a man of God.

  ‘Nobody should be defined by their work, Agent Snow.’ The way he emphasised her name, she wished she’d put him straight about her lowly position in the world. ‘We are a church of ordinary and imperfect humans who seek to live their lives by following Jesus and the way he lived. We’ve found he has welcomed us “home” with open arms and transformed our lives, and so we aim to be an informal, welcoming church that helps others follow Jesus, too. We desire to be a place where people, regardless of age, gender, background and ethnicity, can belong and find a sense of purpose. Everybody in the church contributes the same, irrespective of their work.’

  She wondered if she’d somehow offended him and if he’d got the wrong impression of what she was looking for from the question.

  Campbell spoke up before Astrid could.

  ‘We need to get an idea of Caitlin’s life outside of her family, Minister Rennie, so we can create a profile of her, to see who she might have come into contact with who would do such a terrible thing to her and the children.’

  He placed one hand on the back of the nearest chair. ‘You believe her time here may have led Caitlin’s killer to her?’

  He gazed straight through Astrid as he spoke. She said nothing, letting her new partner reply.

  ‘Anything we learn about her activities with the church might help in the investigation.’

  The shadow of darkness that had crept over his face for the last two minutes disappeared with the return of his broad smile.

  ‘Please, ladies, call me Joe.’ He moved to the side and pointed towards the pulpit. ‘If you follow me, I’ll give you a tour while I explain Caitlin’s time here.’

  He led them between the chairs, and then turned right before they reached the dais, taking them through a door and into another large room. There was a faint smell of chlorine in the air, and it didn’t surprise Astrid to see most of the space taken up by a small swimming pool.

  ‘Do you perform many baptisms, Joe?’

  The glint in his eyes sparkled even more brightly with her question. ‘It depends on the time of year.’ He opened out his broad shoulders and pointed towards the water. ‘This is our baptistery. Caitlin and others helped me with the baptisms.’

  ‘Were there any duties or responsibilities Caitlin undertook more than others?’

  They’d reached the pool, and he rested his arm on the podium. She glanced at his reflection rippling in the water, watching it twist and shiver to resemble something not quite human.

  ‘Even within the church, Caitlin differed from most.’ He peered towards the far window which looked upon the town. ‘At the end of a long day, many of us turn to the box or the internet to relax, but she had no interest in those things. When she wasn’t helping others, she liked nothing better than putting her head between a book’s pages. She never watched television or movies, spending most of her free time reading. Caitlin believed TV was for lazy people, whereas reading made the brain work hard to fit in all the bits the writer had left out. She was also a great believer in the written word helping those who struggle to string sentences together as they get older.’

  Astrid had wondered where he was going with this information, but now she knew.

  ‘She went into the community to help those with dementia or Alzheimer’s, taking books to them and getting them to read?’

  He nodded. ‘Caitlin did all that and more, Agent Snow. She had great success with it, visited many homes in town, and improved people’s lives. Her death is a terrible loss for all of us, and the same for her children. Cathy and Dale had many friends who will miss them.’

  Campbell stepped closer to him. ‘Did you ever see anyone suspicious-looking hanging around the church?’

  Rennie furrowed his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean by suspicious-looking?’ He peered at Astrid. ‘Are you talking about foreigners?’

  The policewoman shook her head. ‘Anybody who might have seemed out of place or up to no good.’

  ‘I can’t say I did.’ He reached down into a podium door and removed a sash which he placed around his neck. ‘Do you think Caitlin met her killer in the church? I find that hard to believe.’

  A group of people entered the room, marching around the pool’s far side and taking seats opposite Astrid and Campbell. It was a mixture of men and women of varying ages, but she recognised one of them: the diner’s white-hatted cowboy. He tilted his hat at her as she refocused on the Minister.

  Astrid didn’t pull any punches. ‘Bad people are found in every walk of society, Joe; even churches.’

  He glanced across at his flock. ‘I know that only too well, Agent Snow. I moved to Bakerstown twenty years ago after leaving the place of my birth, believing everywhere on this planet was nothing but a sewer of sin and deceit. I left convinced that towns like my own were cesspits of intolerance and meanness, hiding behind a disguise of folksiness. Fortunately, I found the Lord during my travels, and now I understand there’s a positive reaction to counter every sinful action. And Caitlin performed enough positive actions to balance out the negative in this town for a long time.’

  She didn’t have the heart to question his belief and ask him how the murder of an innocent woman and two children could ever find a counterweight in this world. So she asked him something else instead.

  ‘Do you have a list of those Caitlin visited when working in the community?’

  She expected him to refuse and was surprised when he didn’t.

  ‘If you tell me your cell number, I’ll text the file to you.’<
br />
  ‘I lost my phone last night.’ She glanced at her partner. ‘Officer Campbell will give you hers.’

  Which she did. ‘You store church data on your cell, Joe?’

  He took a phone from his pocket. ‘Caitlin was the one who convinced me we should keep a record of all our activities, and there should be digital copies stored securely online on my cell and the church’s computer network.’ Astrid was admiring the efficiency of it when Campbell’s phone pinged with an incoming message. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have today’s baptisms to complete.’

  He left them to go to the group waiting by the pool as Campbell stared at the file on her cell.

  ‘Is there anything useful in what he sent?’ Astrid said.

  Campbell handed her the phone. ‘There are a dozen names here, most of which I recognise, but nothing jumps out at me as suspicious.’

  Astrid read through them and thought the same until she came to the last one. She returned the phone to Campbell. ‘Do you know the woman at the end of the list?’

  Campbell stared at it. ‘I do; we were at school together. Why?’

  Astrid watched as Minister Joe Rennie went about his work, climbing into the pool and beckoning the first of his flock to follow him.

  ‘Because I think I might have had lunch with Maggie Delaney’s daughter a few hours ago.’ She returned Campbell’s phone to her.

  ‘Angie? You were in the diner with Angie Delaney?’ Astrid nodded. Campbell’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

  ‘She was fighting in the street with another girl when I left the police station. When they stopped tearing seven bells out of each other, the kid looked so malnourished, I thought she needed a decent meal.’

  Campbell sucked in her lips and eyed Astrid suspiciously. ‘Really?’

  ‘Why not? I’m a stranger in town, and kids are always helpful to strangers.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘Nope. Why would I do that?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll believe you for now. But what has you eating with Angie Delaney and her mother’s name being on this list got to do with the Cruz murders?’

  ‘I don’t know, maybe nothing. I just think it’s curious. Angie said she wasn’t going to school, but wouldn’t tell me why when I asked. Perhaps it’s because she’s staying home as her mother has dementia.’

  She watched the exasperation move across Campbell’s face.

  ‘I don’t understand what that’s got to do with trying to find who killed Caitlin Cruz and her children.’

  ‘Let’s just call it a hunch.’ Astrid flashed her partner the widest of grins. ‘Do you know where the Delaneys live?’

  Campbell’s eyebrows reached for the sky as her lips stretched wide. ‘You want to visit them now?’

  Astrid shook her head. ‘We’ll talk to Moore about some numbers first.’

  6 Alone Again Or

  ‘We should tell Detective Moore about your hunch.’

  They’d stopped for gas on the way to the police station. Astrid disagreed with Campbell’s suggestion as they got out of the car.

  ‘No, let’s wait for now. These numbers they found are more important to focus on.’

  She stretched her legs while Campbell bought cigarettes. Astrid pushed her shoulders back and breathed in everything around her, not just the air, but the whole experience of America. She’d dreamed of this since she was a small girl, watching the flickering lights of the television while locked inside her room for twelve hours a day. This was her High Sierra, her Key Largo, and her Kiss Me Deadly.

  That’s what she’d told herself when she’d first arrived in the town.

  She’d been in Bakerstown less than an hour when she went to the bar after dumping what little she had in the cheapest hotel she could find. It was dark when she got there, and she’d got drunk a lot quicker than expected, which might have had something to do with the fact she hadn’t eaten for twenty-four hours.

  The beers and tequila which followed didn’t help her state of mind that night, but only exacerbated the grumpiness flowing through her; a gnawing irritant she knew came from her sister’s refusal to answer any of her phone calls, texts, or emails. Not that she even wanted to speak to Courtney; it was her niece’s voice she needed to hear. Olivia was ever present in her thoughts and the lack of contact with her drove Astrid’s misery to greater lengths by the day.

  At least she was doing something she’d dreamed of since she was a kid: to travel across America and see some of its sights. Now, she saw Bakerstown in the daylight and took it all in. A vast swathe of rolling hills stood in the distance on the other side of the gas station; brilliant shades of red and green rose into the sky as a flock of birds sauntered overhead.

  She peered into the sun and remembered her favourite Tears For Fears video as a car as big as a truck pulled up next to them. A woman climbed out of it as if she was preparing for the catwalk, wearing impossibly high heels and a dress painted on to her bones. The hair on her head must have had enough spray on it to decimate the ozone layer. A man got out the other side, as tall as a giraffe with shoulders borrowed from a bull. His hat was bigger than his head.

  Campbell gave them a respectful nod as she left the shop, and the couple entered.

  ‘Friends of yours?’ Astrid said as they returned to the car.

  ‘Hardly,’ Campbell replied. ‘That’s Jimmy and Rosie Sawyer, twins and only kids to old man Sawyer. They’ll own this town once he’s gone.’

  ‘Their father owns everything here?’

  ‘He does; all that’s worth owning and a little that isn’t.’

  ‘Does that include some residents?’

  Campbell didn’t answer the question, but threw Astrid one of her own. ‘There’s a rumour going around you came here to find a grave. Is that true?’

  Astrid placed a hand above her head to keep the sun from her eyes as it shone through the windscreen. A small dog strolled in front of them, cocked its skinny leg, and pissed over the car. The stink of urine seeped through the open windows as the policewoman shouted at the mutt; it scampered away as she yelled at it.

  Astrid snatched the can of Coke Campbell offered her, opened it, and drank half in one go. The cold bubbles tickled the back of her throat and distracted her from the ache in her ribs.

  ‘As a kid, I was fascinated by old movies. The black and white ones from the silent era and the twenties and thirties, before the Hollywood censors arrived and ruined everything. They were an escape into a different world, a better one than my own. Chaplin, Keaton and the Marx Brothers made me laugh; Lugosi and Karloff scared me; Metropolis and King Kong sent me into new realms of adventure, while I fell in love with Harlow, Garbo and Valentino. But there was only one person who captured my heart.’ She pressed the chilled can against her face, absorbing the dampness into her skin as a shield from the sun. ‘I came to America by accident, but while I’m here, on an unexpectedly extended stay, I promised I’d see where that person is buried, in Rochester.’

  Campbell didn’t appear to be affected by the heat. ‘That’s cool. Are you going to tell me their name?’

  Astrid finished the drink and dropped the can into the slot in the car door. ‘While I’m here, I’ll give you some clues to guess who it is. As long as you don’t cheat and use the internet.’

  Campbell shook her head. ‘As if I don’t have enough to think about.’

  ‘You don’t want to amuse me?’

  ‘Go on, then, give me the first clue, but if you’re talking about someone famous nearly a hundred years ago, they better be good clues if you want me to guess their name.’

  ‘She left home at sixteen to become a dancer in New York City.’

  Campbell’s laughter bounced through the car. ‘Brilliant. Thanks a lot, my English friend.’

  Astrid ignored her partner’s grumpiness and flicked the switch to the jukebox in her head to sing out loud to the music only she could hear as they left.

  Campbell glanced at her. ‘What’s that tune?’
<
br />   ‘Sunday Morning by the Velvet Underground. Is this a new one to you?’

  ‘No, I know it; I just didn’t recognise your mangled version of it.’

  They laughed together as Campbell drove.

  The drive there was quick. Bakerstown was a narrow maze of streets, everywhere free of litter, with the buildings a mix of the old and the new. It could have been a small town anywhere, but the one thing that caught Astrid’s attention was the large brewery near the police station. The sight of the logo on its gates, of a bear sitting inside a beer glass, triggered the smell of alcohol in her nose.

  And then she remembered the image from the bar and the beers she’d drunk. The cartoon bear stared at her and clawed at the back of her skull, trying to retrieve her missing memories, but it was no good. She shook it from her head as Campbell parked and they stepped into the station.

  No one inside appeared pleased to see them. Moore slammed the phone down and had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp as Astrid approached his desk. His eyes narrowed when he spoke to her.

  ‘Have you returned to help with the investigation into the murders of Caitlin Cruz and her children?’

  ‘Can you show me the bits of paper you removed from the victims’ mouths?’ She expected he wouldn’t, but asked anyway.

  Moore opened a drawer. ‘I’m not allowed to share anything with you, Snow, but I will place this photocopy of them on the desk before I hand it to Officer Campbell.’

  He did that. She stared at the numbers and memorised them as Campbell grabbed the paper before anyone else noticed what was happening.

  ‘What do you think they mean?’

  He stared long and hard at her, and she guessed he was wondering how much he should tell her. After a minute of silence, he gave in.

  ‘We figure it’s a phone number with one digit missing, stuffed into their mouths because it’s some psycho ritual or they’re playing games with us.’ Moore gazed right at her. ‘Unless you know something we don’t.’

  She pulled up a chair to rest her aching feet. The afternoon exercise had taken more out of her than she’d thought possible. And her ribs were throbbing again.