“Jessie’s confirmed that she returned and worked until five o’clock. Do you know if she had any plans for that evening?” Nate asked.
“Not that she mentioned . . .”
The Sergeant interrupted. “When did you first become alarmed?”
“I was a little surprised I didn’t see her the next day. Pastor Wilson held a short service at the construction site before they moved the skeleton.”
Sergeant Woczinski raised his eyebrows. Nate caught his look and rushed into the breach. “Quite by accident. We discovered a very old skeleton. It was uncovered during construction of the car wash over on Water Street.”
“Okay,” the Sergeant replied cautiously.
Lucky continued. “A few people stopped by to attend the Pastor’s ceremony. It wasn’t so much that I expected her to be there, it’s just that it was the kind of thing she would make a point of attending. At the time, I really didn’t think too much about it. I just assumed she was busy and couldn’t make it.
“Then, all the other things happened. Jack discovered Harry Hodges dead at the Auto Shop. I headed over there, as you know, Nate. And after that, well, I was just concerned about my grandfather.”
“Why were you worried about your grandfather?” the Sergeant asked.
“He suffers a lot from a stress disorder from his war service. He has for most of his life, and one of the things that really sets it off is seeing blood. Finding Harry like that shook him up, as you can imagine. So, with all that, and the restaurant, the day flew by. The next day I called Elizabeth a couple of times at home, and then at her office. Jessie must have been at lunch because I wasn’t able to reach her. Then later that same evening, I tried calling Elizabeth’s house again, and again there was no answer. That’s when I started to worry.”
“Would she have let you know if she was going out of town for a few days?”
“I’m sure she would. We’re very close. Elizabeth was my parents’ closest friend, and since they died, she’s been like a mother to me. I’m sure she would have let me know.” Lucky felt tears springing to her eyes as she spoke. “I’m sorry.” She swiped her eyes. “I don’t mean to get so upset, I’m just worried sick.”
“I understand. Normal reaction.”
“And even if by some strange reason she didn’t mention anything to me or to Jack, she would never have left her assistant Jessie up in the air, trying to field calls. That’s not Elizabeth. On top of that, she would never ever have left her cat unattended. She dotes on Charlie.”
“Does she have any health problems that you know of—physical or mental?”
Lucky bristled. “Certainly not. She’s very healthy, she’s strong for a woman of her age and she’s not gaga.”
“I’m sorry. We have to ask these questions.” Sergeant Woczinski tried to smooth her ruffled feathers. “A lot of people do go missing because they’re not able to take care of themselves, or suffer from mental or emotional problems. We usually find them very quickly, but it’s always upsetting for the people close to them.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Lucky sighed. “No, no heart disease, no diabetes, no history of depression. Nothing.”
“Okay. That should do it. Do you mind if we speak to your grandfather while we’re here? He might have some further information.”
“Not at all. I’ll cover the cash register and send him in.”
“I understand you’ve been to her house and taken care of her cat. Did you notice anything out of place?”
“Not a hair. I did go through her desk calendar to see if she had an appointment to meet anyone. I looked in her filing cabinet to find her car license for Nate. Oh, and I listened to the messages on her answering machine. There was nothing unusual at all. Nothing to point to anyone she might have been meeting or any place she might have headed to.”
“We’ll check out her house this afternoon. You have a key?”
“No, but there’s one hidden in the gardening cabinet inside the garage. The garage isn’t locked. It’s on a hook on the left inside the cabinet. Please be careful not to let Charlie out. She doesn’t like him roaming around when she’s not there.”
“We’ll take good care of everything.”
“When I was there, it looked to me like she might have just had breakfast and gone to work as usual. There were a bowl and a cup in the dish strainer.”
“And nothing looked out of place, or looked like there might have been a struggle?”
“Neat as a pin.”
Nate spoke up. “Do you have a photo of Elizabeth that we can use?”
“We found a good photo from the mayoral election at the Gazette. I asked Sophie to have some flyers prepared. She’s going over to Lincoln Falls this afternoon to a print shop and we’ll have three thousand of those flyers by this evening.”
“Make sure she lists the State Police hotline, the station here and my cell phone. Does she know about the websites for missing people?”
“Yes, she’s found several. She’s posting Elizabeth’s photo on those today.”
“I plan to make an official announcement tonight.” He turned to Sergeant Woczinski. “There’s a town meeting tonight at the Congregational Church. The people from the University want to update everyone about what they’ve found so far with the remains we discovered. I plan to make an announcement about Elizabeth there. The more people who are on the alert, the better.” He turned back to Lucky. “You’re sure the flyers will be ready by tonight?”
“Yes. Sophie’s very efficient. I’m sure they will be. I’ll call her though to make sure she has all those numbers and websites listed.”
“Well, that’s it then.” The Sergeant stood. “We’ll canvas Elizabeth’s neighborhood. You never know what people might have seen. And we’ll examine her house and her office and her phone records. If there are no leads there, we’ll be organizing ground searches and calling in the FBI.”
Lucky gulped at the mention of the FBI. She was grateful Nate and the State Police were taking this very seriously, but with every step taken, the possibility of Elizabeth being dead or in real danger became more real. “Thanks. I’ll send Jack in next to see you.” She rose from the chair and moved to the office door. She turned back to the men. “I didn’t mean to get so upset. I just wish I could spend my whole day searching for her.”
“Any help you’ll be able to give is greatly appreciated. Just so you know, Ms. Jamieson, we do sometimes find the missing.”
Lucky couldn’t think of a response. She took a shaky breath and slipped through the door.
Chapter 19
THE OLD CONGREGATIONAL Church had never hosted such an excited crowd. The air was electric with anticipation. The demonstration against the car wash that Harry had been instrumental in organizing had brought the town together. Now, with Harry’s death, fear had brought people together again, to share gossip and information.
Lucky and Jack had once again agreed to provide drinks and half sandwiches for the crowd at their regular price, with a percentage going to the church. Pastor Wilson couldn’t have been happier. Locals always frequented the Spoonful whenever they could, but a small sandwich board announcing the name of the By the Spoonful Soup Shop wouldn’t hurt as an advertisement, particularly for summer visitors. Refreshments would be sold during the break, which would be followed by a question and answer session. Horace planned to chair tonight’s presentation, since he was now as knowledgeable about the case as was anyone at the University. Lucky surveyed the crowd, attempting to count heads. She hoped their sandwiches wouldn’t sell out too quickly.
Pastor Wilson raised his hand to gather everyone’s attention. Horace introduced Professor Arnold, who had driven over from the University and now joined them on the small stage at the head of the room. Professor Arnold took the microphone, tapped it gently, and spoke. “Thank you, everyone, for inviting me.” Several people murmured, “Thank you,” in return. He took a breath and began to speak.
“As you kn
ow, a skeleton, a very old one, was found near the center of your town. We believe he—and we now know this individual was male—was buried in a relatively shallow grave, certainly not six feet deep. It also appears that this man was buried without religious ritual or casket. We can’t be exactly certain, because the earth was disturbed by construction equipment before he was found, but we discovered no wooden remnants of a coffin to indicate otherwise. He was a young man, we believe under the age of twenty-five judging by the long bones. Based on the artifacts on his person at the time of his death, it is possible he died during a local battle of the Revolutionary War. If that’s the case, it was not that uncommon for colonials or militiamen to be buried in such a manner. Many people died in battle and had to be hastily buried. Moreover, the British were known to treat rebels’ bodies in a very undignified fashion.”
“Are you saying the skeleton is as old as that?” asked a resident of Snowflake.
“Given the artifacts we’ve found and the condition of the bones, that is our working hypothesis. We plan to run several tests—a chemical analysis will tell us how much nitrogen is contained in the bony tissue. As bones deteriorate, nitrogen levels decrease. Also, different amino acids disappear from bones at different rates. Testing for those is another method of determining the age of bones.”
“Was he a militiaman? An American?”
“It’s a possibility. Assuming we’re correct, and the skeleton dates from the same time period as the artifacts, he would not have worn a uniform. Most militiamen wore their everyday clothing—homespun, I might add. This type of fiber would break down and disappear very quickly. Fortunately, we were able to retrieve two very tiny fragments that we plan to test.”
“Sounds like you don’t know very much,” one woman called out.
Professor Arnold smiled, not taking offense. “We will know a lot more in the near future. So I hope you will all be patient. We will keep you updated.”
Another woman spoke. “I think it’s very exciting. For all we know, he could be one of our ancestors!”
Cordelia Rank sat ramrod straight in the front pew, watching the proceedings avidly. She stood. “Sir, my name is Cordelia Rank and . . .”
Lucky spotted Hank and Barry, a few seats closer to the dais. Barry nudged Hank, and Hank shot him a look, shushing him from further remarks.
A voice from the rear said, “We know who you are.” A few titters were heard throughout the room. Cordelia held her chin higher, ignoring the remark. “. . . and I am a Daughter of the American Revolution . . .”
Someone was heard to groan loudly. Lucky, standing next to Jack, stifled a laugh.
Cordelia continued, “I believe the Daughters of the American Revolution would be very interested in your findings. In fact, many of my sisters will be here soon to attend the Reenactment of the Battle of Bennington. I would like to suggest that the bones be donated to their museum.”
Professor Arnold raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh . . .” He looked inquiringly at Horace. “I agree they should be preserved in a museum setting, but I imagine that will be up to the town of Snowflake and the Vermont Division for Historic Preservation. It’s certainly not for me to say. In any case, we at the University would need a lot more time to continue our studies. A find like this is quite exciting.”
“Sit down,” an older man muttered in Cordelia’s direction.
Cordelia turned, silencing him with a withering glance. She rearranged her skirts and sat down heavily in her chair.
When the Professor was finished, Horace took the microphone. “Why don’t we have a little break for refreshments? Fifteen minutes. And then we can open the discussion to any other questions you might have.”
Lucky slipped out of her seat and walked to the side of the hall, opening the doors to the adjoining room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the large meeting room. Janie had volunteered her services this evening, and she and Jack had arranged four different types of half sandwiches, wrapped in plastic, on trays. Cold drinks and water were on ice in a large cooler. Lucky took over the coffee urn, filling cups and keeping the pitcher of cream and sugar bowl full.
She overheard two men she recognized from the demonstration. They were standing next to the long table while she poured coffee. One said, “What’d I tell you. Rowland’s not here.”
“Are you sure?” the second man asked.
“He wouldn’t have the nerve to show up.”
“Kinda odd in a way. You’d think he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to make trouble. After all, it was the discovery of the bones that brought his project to a halt. I woulda thought he’d try to make it a point to learn what he could about all this.”
“I don’t care if he does or he doesn’t. But given a choice, I’d rather not see him or hear from him again.” The man tossed his paper cup into the trash and turned away.
Lucky gave a signal to Janie, and slipped out from behind the table. The break was almost over. In a vain hope that her fears about Elizabeth were unjustified, she walked back into the main meeting hall and, standing on tiptoe, scanned the crowd for Elizabeth’s silver white bob. She knew it was a desperate hope but couldn’t resist looking. She felt as if she had been searching for Elizabeth the last few nights in her dreams. There was no sign of her. Lucky took a deep breath and fought down the rising anxiety in her chest.
“Hey, give me a hand, Lucky.” Sophie was holding the outside door open with her foot and trying to push a large cardboard box over the threshold.
“You made it.” Lucky hurried over, secured the door and helped Sophie carry another heavy box into the rear of the meeting hall.
Sophie brushed her hands off on the back of her jeans. “No word? She’s not here?”
Lucky shook her head. “I looked everywhere. I know it’s crazy, but I was hoping against hope. She’s definitely not here.”
“Sorry it took me so long. I wanted to wait until the print shop finished the last batch.”
“How do they look?” Lucky asked, dreading the moment when the flyers would make Elizabeth’s disappearance all the more real.
“They did a good job.” Sophie squeezed Lucky’s hand for support. “I know you’re scared. Your hands are shaking. Try to keep it together. We will find her.”
The noise level had grown, but many people were settling back into their seats. “Sophie, you have a seat and I’ll help Janie clean up.” Sophie nodded and grabbed a chair near the rear of the room.
Lucky headed to the side room, but left the doors open so she could hear the rest of the presentation and Nate’s announcement. When everyone had quieted down, Horace and Professor Arnold returned to the stage at the front of the room. Professor Arnold, microphone in hand, asked if there were any questions.
Barry raised his hand. “What does this mean for the construction site? You must know we want to close it down.”
“Yes,” Arnold answered. “I had heard about the dispute. This closure should only be temporary. I understand it must be difficult for the developer.”
“Not as difficult as we’re gonna make it for him!” a man shouted from the back. He was greeted with a murmuring of agreement.
“Our graduate students have been working hard, but we have not found any evidence that this might be a larger burial site. If it were, it would certainly be eligible for the State Registry. In the best of all possible worlds, the developer should do due diligence. In other words, find out about the site before any plans are drawn up. Unfortunately, in my experience, this never happens. So, as soon as we’ve finished our work, then, I assume, the construction will begin again.”
The outside door to the meeting hall slammed open. Several heads turned. As if the name of the devil had been spoken, Richard Rowland marched from the back of the room and stood in the center aisle between the rows of chairs. At first there was silence and then a disapproving murmur grew throughout the hall.
“You better believe it’ll begin again,” Rowland announced angrily. “All you
people be warned. I’m hiring my own guards, and if anybody tries to screw up my site you’ll be sorry as hell.” Rowland was less agitated than he had been during the demonstration but there was no mistaking his anger.
Norman Rank, Cordelia’s husband and Lucky’s landlord at the Spoonful, stood and pointed a finger in Rowland’s direction. “You little weasel. What the hell do you think you’re doing here? You weren’t invited and no one wants to see your face.” His voice was level and chilling. Norman’s outburst was greeted with grumblings of approval throughout the room. Rowland stood his ground, facing Norman down.
“You may own a lot of this town, Mr. Norman Rank, but you don’t own this building, and I’ll damn well come here if I want. Maybe you oughta mind your own business before you lose some of your precious real estate.” Rowland snickered coldly.
“Why you . . .” Norman struggled out of his row and stormed down the aisle toward Rowland.
Rowland smirked, his hands on his hips, calmly watching Rank approach. “Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it, old man?” Rowland smiled wider, taking in the room. He was playing to the crowd, Lucky knew, and the tension was palpable.
Hank and another man moved quickly into the aisle to intercept Norman before he could reach Rowland. Hank grasped his arm, holding him back “Leave him be. It’s not worth it, Norman.”
Norman’s face was red with fury. “You’ll be sorry you ever showed your face in this town,” Norman spat.
“Oh yeah? What does that mean?” A flicker of fear passed across Rowland’s face. He was surprised for a moment at Norman’s vehemence.
Cordelia rushed down the aisle and grasped her husband’s other arm. She leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. Norman’s shoulders finally relaxed and Hank released his firm grip. Cordelia took her husband by the arm and led him back to their seats.
Lucky, watching the exchange, realized she had been holding her breath, afraid that some form of violence would erupt. Professor Arnold was silent, taken aback at the animosity in the room.
A Broth of Betrayal Page 11
