Silver's Bones

by Midge Bubany

  “Okay. Yeah, I smoked a little dope. Experimented a little like everybody else.”

  “I heard you dealt. Did you supply Parker’s friends with drugs?”

  He shrugged. “I may have given them a little pot.”

  “How about Silver? What did you give her?”

  Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing.”

  “Roofies?”

  He scowled. “Roofies? Like the date rape drug?”

  “Exactly. Rohypnol.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Have you ever seen someone under the influence of Rohypnol?”

  “Once. At a party.”

  “Similar to how Silver was acting at that Fourth of July party?”

  His expression said he hadn’t thought of that. “Oh, could be.”

  “You or your friends ever use a drug of that nature?”

  He sat forward in his chair and said, “Of course not. Who needs to drug women to have sex?”

  “Did someone have sex with her?”

  “I don’t know, I’m just saying that’s why someone gives a girl a drug like that.”

  “The guys seemed to like Silver. What made her so special?”

  He sat back again, shrugged. “I guess because she was cute and friendly, and made people feel like she was glad to see them.”

  “Did she make you feel special?”

  He screwed up his face. “Not me. I’m just saying that as an observer. I knew she had eyes for my little brother.”

  “If you know something about Silver Rae’s disappearance or death, now would be the time to talk. Understand?”

  “Yes, and I wish I knew what did happen to her—but I don’t. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Where were you the night of her disappearance?”

  “I had a date with Heather Baumgardner. We went to a movie. She had to get up for some church conference so I took her home early and then went home myself.”

  “What time was that?”

  “About eleven thirty or twelve, and yes, Parker was home by then.”

  That was in the file and although verified, this slick piece of shit’s word wasn’t convincing. “Where might I find . . .” I looked at my notes. “Kyle Nelson?”

  “He’s down in the Cities. He works for Macy’s.”

  “Was he in Prairie Falls the summer she disappeared?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t recall if he was around that weekend. I doubt he would have had anything to do with her.”

  “Who did?”

  His neck turned red. “No one.”

  I’d hit on something. He was reacting. I stared him down for a good minute, which is a long time when no one is saying anything. He turned away first. He looked at his watch.

  “What about Jonah Wolfson?”

  “What about him?”

  “Was he around the weekend Silver disappeared?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Is this going to take much longer? I should really get back to the family.”

  “Not much longer. I want to run something by you. I keep thinking maybe Silver Rae was accidentally killed. That maybe she was with someone, not your brother, and things got out of hand and she died. The guy panicked and tried to hide the body by burying her.”

  He nodded. His cheeks were mottled. “I suppose that’s possible.”

  I let the silence hang heavy in the room. After a minute he said, “Well, how about the nut job—Stillman? He’s one strange dude.”

  I remained expressionless and continued to stare him down.

  He shifted his weight to the other hip. “Well, way I see it, y’all can’t figure out who’s responsible so you’re badgering my family like you did fifteen years ago.”

  “Sometimes it takes a little badgering for the truth to come out, Mr. Gage.”

  “Well, none of us had a thing to do with it.”

  “No?”

  “No!”

  I stood. “I want to thank you for coming in. I may have more questions later for you and your family. Here’s my card in case you think of anything else that would help the investigation. My best to your mother. Thanks for taking the initiative to come in.”

  “Yeah, fun times.”

  When I walked Sawyer Gage out to the lobby, the deputy clerk on duty handed me a note saying I was to see Patrice right after the interview. When I knocked on her door, Lucky Holmgren was seated in her office. At that moment my cell phone vibrated, but I turned the phone off without looking to see who was calling.

  Patrice said, “Cal, come in. Lucky has some information about Adriana’s fire.”

  I shook his hand and sat.

  “The silver fabric was purchased at the fabric shop in town,” Lucky told me. “A clerk remembers the sale because it was unusual. A kid, maybe twelve to fourteen, needed some assistance to find a specific kind of fabric and then paid for it with cash. My next step is to get a copy of the school yearbook and take it to the clerk to see if she can identify him.”

  “Kids, then?” I said.

  “Seems like it. The round container was a common plastic clothesbasket, and the accelerant was gasoline. The shoeprint was a size nine unknown type with a smooth surface.”

  “Kids old enough to drive?”

  “Guess it’d have to be.”

  We continued to chat a few minutes before Lucky said he had to get back to the pharmacy. “My old man’s complaining I’m spending too much time on my volunteer job and not enough time behind the counter.”

  “Why isn’t the fire chief position full time?” Patrice said.

  “It should be. City council is talking about it,” he said.

  I stayed to discuss my recent interviews with Patrice. After I gave her the run-down, she said, “So, you think Sawyer is a viable suspect.”

  “He physically reacted when I questioned him. The guy’s a sleazebag. Says Silver made guys feel special. Maybe he misinterpreted her friendly vibes and when Parker came home, he went out and to pick up where his brother left off—only it didn’t go so well.”

  “Maybe he still does drugs and is uncomfortable in a criminal justice center.”

  “Could be. I keep wondering if Lillian Gage could have been responsible. She’s mean enough.”

  “If so, she’d had to have had an accomplice.”

  “Her husband or one of her sons? There are real problems in that family.”

  “So, what’s the motive?”

  “They didn’t want Silver messing up Parker’s career. I keep hearing that.”

  “Sawyer Gage, huh? Well, get Wolfson in here and drive down to Minneapolis to talk to Nelson, if you have to.”

  “I’m also going to have to drive out to talk to Byron Stillman.”

  “Go now.”

  I was able to make an appointment with Kyle Nelson for the next morning at nine o’clock at the Perkins in Plymouth. I would be back in Prairie Falls in time to interview the Wolfsons in the afternoon and still have dinner with my family.

  All the way out to the Stillman Farm, I followed a red Ford F-150. When I pulled in behind it, the driver exited. I got out and introduced myself.

  “Hi there, I’m Deputy Sheehan with the Birch County Sheriff’s Depart­ment. I need to speak to Byron. Do you know where he is?

  “I’m Byron,” he said. “Alda told me you were here earlier.”

  He was a muscular guy about five-foot-eleven. He was wearing jeans and a short sleeve plaid shirt. He seemed too normal to be part of this crew.

  “Yes, I need to talk to you about your brother’s alleged involvement with Silver Rae Dawson’s disappearance.”

  “We can talk in my house,” he said.

  We walked over to the small yellow rambler about a hundred yards from the m
ain house. The kitchen was similar to the one in the farmhouse in that it was nothing fancy but clean and organized. He showed me to a small dining room. A grandfather clock ticked noisily in the corner as we took seats at the maple table.

  “Well, I have to tell you when the girl disappeared it about killed my little brother,” Byron said. “He was beside himself when he heard it on the news.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “We had the radio on as we ate breakfast. When they announced she was missing, he dropped his fork and jumped up saying he had to go look for her. We talked him out of leaving mainly because he was so upset, but he just paced and paced, so Dad said I should drive him over to help look for her. We only had one car at that time.”

  “So you and your brother helped search?”

  “Just for part of the day, and I believe it was a mistake. Wes is an open book, and his being so upset only brought attention to him. He was acting weird, especially when the investigator came out to talk to him on Sunday night. I can see why they suspected him. But he didn’t have anything to do with it, and I’ll testify to that fact. He was home at 8:45 p.m. on Saturday. I know because I had to wait until he got home from town so I could use the car. Anyway, he was home, snoring away, when I got back about one. His bedroom was right across the hall from mine.”

  “What kind of vehicle did you drive?”

  “An old Oldsmobile station wagon.”

  “How did you know he didn’t sneak out?”

  “Because I had the only vehicle he could use.

  “There wasn’t a pick-up?”

  “Dad’s pick-up was new then. Only he drove it. He kept the keys hidden from us. Look, Wesley is a gentle person, and, in case you haven’t figure this out, he’s a little on the slow side, God love him. He wasn’t good about speaking in his own defense.”

  I questioned him further about the milk routes—Wesley’s was the south side, his on the north. I asked if Wesley had guy friends or girlfriends, and if he talked about Silver. It was a negative on all three. I gained great sympathy for Wesley in that visit, and respect for Byron. He would be a good witness for Wesley’s defense, should it come to that.

  When I walked outside, I noticed dark clouds rolling across the sky. The wind was whipping the tree branches like they were rubber. By the time I got to my truck, a few drops of rain had become a deluge. With the wipers on full blast, the visibility was still only a few yards. Luckily the drive was a straight shot into town. Two blocks from my house, out of nowhere, a kid on a bike was in front of me. I honked and swerved, narrowly missing him. He gave me the finger as I drove by. Little asshole. I was never happier to drive into my garage.

  When I walked into the kitchen, I was hit with the smell of dinner.

  “What’s cooking?” I asked Shannon while I grabbed a beer.

  She kissed me. “One of the boys’ favorites—tater tot hotdish.”

  What Troy had for lunch before he got sick. Great.

  “Smells good.”

  “Adriana just called. She sounded frantic.”

  “Now what?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “Shit.”

  Chapter 19

  Don’t you ever answer your phone?” Adriana snapped.

  “Of course.” Then I recalled I’d turned the ringer off during the interviews. I had a slight problem remembering to turn it back on.

  “What’s up that you have to call my family’s home phone?”

  “What’s up is someone painted the words ‘Silver’s Bones’ on my downstairs glass patio door!”

  “Sounds like something a kid would do. Take a razor blade and scrape it off.”

  “Cal . . . it’s on the inside.”

  “Someone got in your house? With Tino in there?”

  “I put him in the outdoor kennel when I leave. Now when can you get out here?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, the weather’s bad. I barely made it home.”

  “When, then?”

  “Maybe tomorrow afternoon. I have to be in Minneapolis in the morning. Make sure you lock your doors and turn on your security system, if you have one. And leave the guard dog in the house to guard. ”

  “Cal, I turned it on when we left. They got in anyway without tripping the alarm and the security company says it’s working.”

  “What mode?”

  “Away. So even if windows or doors were unlocked—which they weren’t—the alarm would have sounded with any movement.”

  “Then it was probably on there before and you didn’t notice it.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Have you given the code to anyone else?” I said.

  “Just Maddie,” she said.

  “Well, you’ll have to change it. Kids can hack into anything these days.”

  “You think it’s kids?” she asked.

  “A kid bought the fabric,” I told her.

  “Do you know who?”

  “Not yet. We’re working on it. In the meantime, I think you should look around and make sure nothing’s been taken.”

  “Cal, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m just upset,” Adriana said.

  “I know. See you tomorrow.”

  “Wait. Are you still mad at me for talking about you to Troy? I just thought you two would get along better if he understood your life.”

  “Look, I gotta go.”

  I hung up and Shannon stared at me.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Adriana found ‘Silver’s Bones’ painted on the inside of her glass patio door.”

  “Well, that’s super creepy. Why did you sound angry?”

  “She’s telling Troy personal shit about me.”

  “What shit?”

  “About my family members’ deaths.”

  “So what?”

  “So he says that’s the reason why I struggle with notifying families of deaths. It’s bullshit, you know. I have empathy, which he obviously doesn’t.”

  “Obviously.”

  Shannon and I were just getting ready for bed when the landline phone rang again. Shannon read the display. “Adriana,” she said.

  I put my hand up. “Don’t answer it. She can call 911 like everybody else.”

  “Hello?” Shannon said into the receiver.

  I waved my arms to get her attention. “I’m not home,” I mouthed.

  Shannon listened, said, “Oh, no,” occasionally, then said, “I’ll have him call you as soon as he walks in the door.”

  When she hung up I said, “Why did you do that?”

  “Because she found lit candles in her bathroom and writing on her mirror. She wants it documented.”

  “Damn it. Go out there with me?”

  “I can’t. Britanny’s out.”

  By the time I picked up my crime scene evidence kit and signed out a department vehicle, the rain had diminished to a drizzle. When I arrived at Adriana’s, she reintroduced me to her flakey sister, Gina, who was standing beside Magna. Her eyes were glassy, making her look half in the bag. From three feet away I could smell she stank of smoke. She was much shorter than Adriana, maybe five-foot-five, slim, and she slouched. She tried to emulate Adriana’s style but her attempts were a little off, either because she didn’t have the knack or the money. For example, it looked like she used a serving fork to streak platinum blond into her brown hair.

  Everyone, including Tino, followed us down to the lower level when Adriana showed me the inside of the patio door. I snapped photos of the words “Silver’s Bones” written in silver paint.

  “When was the last time this window was cleaned?” I asked. “You had a lot of people going in and out during the recovery.”

  “The cleaning lady was just
here Friday,” Magna said.

  “Does she know the code?” I asked.

  “No, I’m always here when she comes. She wants it that way,” Adriana said.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Lois Dodge. The Warners have used her for years.”

  “Well then,” I said, maybe a bit too sarcastically. Phillip Warner was her boss. Thought he was hot shit. I wrote Lois’s name in my notebook. “Are you sure you checked the doors and windows and armed the security system before you left?”

  Adriana put her hands on her hips. “Goddamn it. Yes!”

  “I saw her use her key bob when we left,” Gina said.

  “Fob! Key fob!” Adriana said.

  “Whatever,” Gina said.

  “So, tell me, how would anyone get in without a key or knowing the code and not trip the alarm?”

  “Isn’t that your job to figure out?” Adriana said.

  Okay . . . now I just want to say “screw you!” But I took a breath and said, “Okay. Was anything missing?”

  “No, but look at this.”

  We walked the short distance to the lower level bathroom. She turned on the shower of the guest bath and closed the door behind us. I was suspicious of her intentions until she pointed at the mirror and said, “Look!”

  The word “Silver” was visible on the foggy mirror.

  “It’s a simple trick. All that’s needed is anti-fog solution and a Q-tip,” I said. If looks could kill. “I’ll take a photo,” I added hastily.

  Gina shouted through the door, “It’s her spirit! You’re not going to catch it on film.”

  Adriana swung open the door. “It’s not Silver Rae Dawson. It’s vandals.”

  Magna said, “Okay, let’s say it is a live human being. Why do they want to frighten us?”

  I shook my head. “People are sick.”

  “And you haven’t even seen the worst part. It’s in the master bath.”

  Everyone traipsed behind Adriana as we moved upstairs to her bathroom. She pointed to the tub, where six large silver candles were placed. The candles had been burned for a time.

  “Those are not my candles. And do you see the silver glitter sprinkled in the bottom of the tub? Would I do that?” she said.