CHAPTER 8
THE DISAPPEARING MAN
As I drove to work the next morning, I found myself thinking about Stan being on the news. I was still mortified. I couldn't believe he was still considering the spaceship defense after I thought we had agreed to drop it. Stan seemed to be enjoying all the media attention and was starting to act like he believed there were aliens visiting Possum Kingdom Lake. And now he'd somehow talked me into going to see Cactus Island. Although I didn't expect to see anything extraordinary there, I had to admit I was kind of curious about the place. But really I hoped it would end up being a waste of time and Stan would come to his senses.
Later that morning Martin Windsor's divorce lawyer called me and said he'd agree to the temporary injunction as long as it was mutual. With Martin's disappearance, he was worried about Cheryl dissipating the community property in his absence. The judge would make it mutual anyway, whether I liked it or not, so I agreed. Once we had hammered out the language of the injunction, I ran it down to the judge and got it signed. Having the injunction in place made me feel a little better but not much. It occurred to me that Martin may have orchestrated his own disappearance and was trying to frame Cheryl for murder. If that were the case, he wouldn't pay much attention to a court injunction.
I had to figure out what had happened between Cheryl and him. According to Detective Perkins someone had seen Cheryl at Martin's house on Monday about the time he disappeared. Since Cheryl had no memory of Monday afternoon or evening, I had to assume the witness was correct. Had she really suffered a memory loss or was she hiding something? I had to assume for now that she was telling the truth. So, what caused her memory loss? Had Martin or someone drugged her or was she suffering some kind of traumatic amnesia as the result of an encounter with Martin? Both of those possibilities needed to be explored. I decided I might get some answers from Martin's secretary, Gloria Fellows, and his administrative assistant, Bernard Lansdale.
Village Drugstores, Martin's company, had its corporate office in the Park Central II Building in North Dallas. I checked the directory in the lobby and found out they were in suite 711. A bald man got in the elevator with me on the ground floor. I pushed seven on the elevator keypad and stepped back. The man looked at me but didn't smile. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. I felt uneasy as his eyes continued to check me out, so I looked over at him and frowned. He finally looked away. When he didn't push a button for another floor, I figured he must be going to the seventh floor as well. As the door opened on the seventh floor, I caught him staring at me again. I shook my head and stepped out. What a pervert. The door closed. I stopped a minute to get my lipstick out of my purse. I was expecting to hear the elevator moving again to its next destination. I waited a second but nothing happened. Curiosity overcame me, so I looked back. Was the man just standing there in the closed elevator? I walked back to the elevator door and pushed the down button. The elevator opened slowly. Expecting to see the man there, I wrestled for a quick explanation as to why I'd opened the elevator after just getting off, but when the door was fully opened there was nobody there. My heart skipped a beat and I nearly fainted.
It took me several seconds to compose myself. What was going on? How had this man suddenly vanished into thin air? Could the elevator have gone up a floor silently and let the man off that quickly? The elevator door closed and within a split second I heard a distinct hum from the elevator motor and the faint sound of the elevator cables straining under the weight of the elevator cab. I took a deep breath, tried to shake off my confusion, and looked around for suite 711.
On the wall I saw a sign that indicated suites 701-712 were to my left. As I turned to walk in that direction, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Ahhhh!" I screamed and twirled around. It was the same man who'd been in the elevator.
He said, "Are you all right, ma'am?"
I lurched back out of his grip and scrambled away. "Yes, I'm fine," I said breathlessly. I turned and walked quickly down the hall to suite 711 and stumbled in. The receptionist gave me an inquisitive look. I stood up straight and took a few deep breaths to stop my trembling. After my pulse had lowered to near normal, I made my way up to the receptionist and advised her I was there to see Gloria Fellows.
"Oh, yes," she said standing up immediately. "She's expecting you. Come this way."
She led me down a long corridor and showed me into a conference room. I sat down in one of the twelve maroon leather chairs that surrounded a large glass conference table. The room was cold and clinical with its white walls and pastel paintings. It seemed fitting for a pharmacist's office. A moment later a thin woman dressed in a smart pin-striped suit walked in. Her face was somber. She introduced herself as Gloria Fellows and sat down across the table from me. I told her that I represented Cheryl Windsor.
"Thank you for meeting with me," I said. "I guess you know Martin Windsor is missing?"
She nodded, "Yes, we're very concerned. It's so unlike Martin to just disappear like this. What does your client have to say about Martin's disappearance?"
"Like you, she is very distraught."
Fellows crossed her black-stockinged legs, folded her arms, and frowned. I felt a distinct chill. "You think Cheryl had something to do with Martin's disappearance?"
"Well, I heard she was at his home on Monday and nobody has heard from him since. And I know Cheryl despised Martin."
"Despised? That's pretty strong. Why would you put it that way?"
"Cheryl was a very jealous woman and she couldn't stand the fact that Martin had responsibilities far more important than catering to her every whim."
"Really? What responsibilities?"
Fellows rolled her eyes. "Running a business, of course. Martin was responsible for operations at all the Village Drug Stores plus keeping track of all the company's business interests."
"I see. So, Martin worked long hours and didn't have a lot of time to spend at home?"
"Yes, and that was unfortunate, but a wife must learn to accept the price of her opulent lifestyle."
Opulent lifestyle? This lady didn't talk like a secretary. I wondered if there was more to her relationship with Martin Windsor than taking dictation. She had an obvious contempt for Cheryl which suggested jealousy. I thought it wise to shift the discussion in a different direction before Fellows got so uptight that she'd clam up on me. "Well, let's assume that Cheryl doesn't know what happened to her husband. With that presumption, did Mr. Windsor have any projects going that might require his leaving town?"
"Yes, we have resort interests all over the Carribean. He often visits them to play golf. At least that's what he tells the managers when he shows up unexpectedly. Actually he goes there to make sure they are being managed properly."
"So, he does travel a lot?"
"Yes. But I've been all through that with Detective Perkins. I really don't have time to—"
"I know. I appreciate that you are very busy, particularly with Martin missing, but please bear with me. I might be able to help find him. Were there any properties that Martin may have been worried about and had contemplated visiting?"
She thought a moment and then nodded. "We have a 30 percent stake in a resort in Tobago. The manager apparently quit a few weeks ago and we've been concerned with the delay in replacing him. Martin mentioned going down there but hadn't made any plans yet."
"Do you book his travel arrangements?"
"Yes, that's why I know he didn't go. He didn't ask me to make those arrangements."
"Has he ever taken a trip and made his own arrangements?"
"No. Never."
"Have you checked your company credit cards for activity since Monday?"
"Detective Perkins did. There hasn't been any."
For the next hour I continued to press Gloria Fellows for information that might be helpful in locating Martin Windsor. It seemed that every avenue I went down, however, Perkins had already been there. I decided I was wasting my time on that line of questioning and dec
ided to get back to their personal relationship. "So, are you and Martin sleeping together?"
Fellows jumped to her feet and glared at me. "I think we're done here!" she spat.
I laughed. From her reaction, I'd got the answer to my question. Martin was a classic womanizer if I'd ever seen one—Cheryl's best friend and now his secretary. I wondered how many more there had been. Dozens probably. This interview hadn't been a waste of time after all.
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 8
