The Overnighter's Secrets

by J. L. Salter

  “Maybe if we let it air out for a few minutes.” Connie held her nose.

  “We can check again at Christmas.” Jeff may have been kidding but that kind of stink was not likely to ever leave.

  “Okay, you two. I know it reeks, but just suck it up. I think there’s a diary in here somewhere. We just have to dig around and find it.”

  The drab brown cloth lining was stained and torn. A gathered, and formerly elasticized, pouch ran the length of the case’s rear and both sides. Mounted inside the top were five leather-looking plastic holders with snaps, apparently designed for shaving supplies or brushes. Or perhaps for other toiletries.

  As near as they were willing to stand because of the disagreeable odor, Connie and Jeff, to this point, had mainly utilized remote visual scanning of the overnighter’s contents. And, truly, the scattered array looked like nothing more than a hodgepodge of unrelated memorabilia.

  But Beth recalled a diary, so perhaps one of the people who emptied trash into a particular dumpster was a chronicler. Chronicler of what? Beth had no idea. But possibly that diary was what the burglar had wanted. Why? Not a clue.

  Beth bravely reached inside and came up with several post cards. A few from Cincinnati, some from elsewhere. Most had never been mailed. She held them up as if to say, ”See? They’re harmless.”

  Jeff stepped forward and retrieved a few badly-faded and extremely brittle newspaper pages. “These dates are before 1920, and they’re in terrible condition.” Jeff was careful not to damage them further. “No obvious clues why these were saved.” He sighed. “But must’ve meant something to someone.”

  Finally, Connie took a deep breath, reached way over, grabbed a folded manila envelope, and hurriedly resumed her position about six feet away. Gingerly, she unfolded the envelope and opened it. “All I have is a small stack of photos—probably a large industrial site.” She tapped one example. “From the looks of the vehicles, these shots were likely taken in the late 1930s.”

  As they tentatively picked up an individual item, they’d look it over, announce what they’d found—or what they guessed it was—and put it back in the overnighter. Beth realized that was counter-productive; they needed to be grouped and stacked somewhere else. Maybe on the counter surface. “We can’t learn what’s what unless we have a system.”

  “System?” Connie gulped air from the other direction and then turned again. “Aren’t we just looking for a diary?”

  “Yeah, mainly. But I figure we ought to know what else is in here and see if any of it’s connected.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on that, Beth.” Jeff reached for another handful of material. “If you scoop out a suitcase full of junk from any dumpster in America, you just have trash from as many individuals as use that dumpster. The only thing this stuff has in common is age.”

  “And odor.” Connie pinched her nose again.

  Maybe they were right. But it was possible for several items to be from a single person. After all, Shane had said the overnighter supposedly had a few things in it before the divers filled it up with more dumpster rubbish. “Okay, okay. Maybe it’s thirty different kinds of things from twenty different people, but let’s keep it organized anyhow.”

  Jeff waved the papers he’d just grabbed. “Okay, librarians are all for organizing things.” He examined the items in hand. “Uh, these seem to be old-timey programs like theaters used.”

  “How old?” Beth didn’t look up.

  “Hmm. 1904... 1906. Different places.”

  “What kind of acts?” Connie didn’t actually seem interested, however.

  “Not sure.” Jeff leafed through a couple. “Mostly ads. Don’t see what the entertainment was. From those dates, I’d guess Vaudeville variety.”

  “Well, find a spot to stack them.” Beth pointed to the side.

  Connie held her breath again and picked-up a small magazine. “Here’s a keeper: television listing from 1970.”

  “Start a pile for magazines.” Beth gestured toward a vacant place.

  In that fashion, they worked their way into the middle of the overnighter’s scattered contents. Nothing significant was discovered: a few more magazines, additional theater programs, several extra post cards, and other newspaper clippings. Jeff had briefly seemed excited as he opened another manila envelope with photos, but they were just crowds and landscapes from an Oriental country.

  “I’m ready for a break... and a shower.” Connie looked around the garage as though she expected a lounge with plumbing.

  “Tanya ought to be here soon with our supper.” Jeff checked his watch again.

  “Okay, let’s tackle this big photo album.” Beth pointed. “Then we’ll go inside and clean up.”

  It was an expensive-looking black binder about twelve-by-fourteen inches, with thick leather type plastic covers. Most likely pliable decades ago, the material was now so hard and brittle that it broke off to the touch. Both front and back covers had torn loose from the spine plate where twenty-eight metal binding rings were set.

  Just closing the case dampened its smell noticeably. Beth placed the album on top of the overnighter’s lid and Jeff edged in beside her; Connie stood near Beth’s other shoulder.

  “Is that where the silent movie pix are?” Jeff pointed.

  “Don’t recall.” Beth opened the front cover. Each page of thick, black paper—approximately ten-by-fourteen—was fully sleeved with plastic protectors. She counted as her fingertip bumped over each edge: seventeen double-sided leaves.

  There was no particular order to the photos, but the album seemed to represent a family—old man and woman, young man and woman, two children at various ages, and a few other people.

  “Wow, those are huge!” Connie tapped one photo which covered the entire page. “I’ve never seen pictures that big.”

  “Yeah, usually eight-by-ten is the largest for ordinary citizens.” Jeff traced off what the smaller size would cover. “You’d have to have commercial equipment to produce anything on this scale.”

  Beth felt inside a protector sheet. “And this paper is very thick and high quality.”

  Jeff flipped another page. “No order that I can see. It’s like a family’s pix just were dumped into a scrapbook and this is where they all landed.”

  Beth turned the next leaf. “You know, it was not at all typical of that period to have such huge photos with this type of quality.”

  “Yeah. Normally, from a few generations ago, you’d expect tiny, cheap snapshots or small stiff studio portraits.” Jeff pointed to the elegant clothing in one of the young woman’s poses. “My first guess... they were quite wealthy.”

  “Check some for names.” Beth shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “There’s so many glamour shots of that same woman.” Connie looked slightly envious.

  It was a sizeable array of large, expensive photos, some glossy and some matte. Beth leaned closer. “Well, it’s not just the young woman—everybody in the whole family got at least a couple of these gigantic photos.”

  “Here’s some names!” Jeff pointed to the back of a small, stiff cardboard studio portrait featuring three children in antique garb. “Looks like it’s around the turn of the century.” He read out the names: “Charles, Camilla, and Lynette—ages nine, seven, and five.”

  “Somebody’s ancestors when they were kids.” Beth continued flipping through the album as the others watched silently.

  “Enough of the photo album.” Connie made no effort to disguise her discontent. “And enough of this garage.”

  Jeff held up a hand. “Did y’all hear a car drive up?”

  Beth hadn’t.

  He hurried past Beth’s vehicle to the closed garage door and peered through the dusty window. “Pizza! I mean... Tanya’s here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beth threw up her hands as her helpers fled.

  Jeff hustled into the kitchen entrance and had the front door open about the time Tanya reached it. “Hi, honey.” As Tany
a entered he took the nicely warm pizza box in both hands and closed the door with his foot.

  Beth and Connie headed straight for the kitchen sink to wash their hands.

  “You already know Beth, of course, but have you met Connie?”

  “Connie Bryan.” Connie waved. “Come on out to my dealership when you’re ready to trade-in whatever you’re driving out there.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, Connie.” Now Jeff was at the sink. “My wife loves her Volkswagen.” It was the redesigned Beetle.

  “Hi, everybody. I’m Tanya. Hope you haven’t gotten too hungry. The place was pretty busy. You know... Saturday night.”

  “Sorry, Hon. I forgot it was Saturday.” Jeff dried his hands quickly and squeezed his wife’s thin shoulder.

  “You’re just in time, Tanya. We’d finally found a stopping place.” Beth clutched Tanya’s lean elbow. “Thanks for helping out.” She motioned to the living room. “Everybody grab a paper plate and let’s eat where we can get comfortable.” She pulled out four cups and half a pitcher of iced tea.

  Even though Beth truly hit it off with Jeff, she never seemed to have all that much in common with Tanya. It was true that Tanya had made the first effort by helping on move-in day, but hardly any of Beth’s attempts to reciprocate had worked out.

  Tanya was attractive, though almost excessively slender, and nearly the same height as Jeff. Her skin, slightly lighter than Jeff’s, was smooth and lovely. Tanya always seemed terribly serious—so much so that Beth could not recall ever seeing her smile, beyond a polite, insincere-looking effort.

  Beth had concluded that she and Tanya might never become close because her good friendship with Jeff could come between them. She’d rather keep Jeff’s friendship than add Tanya and risk losing Jeff somehow. Was Tanya potentially jealous of their friendship? Jeff never said so. But one could easily become jealous of a husband’s friendship with a single woman.

  All ate without conversation—the three researchers because they’d worked up such an appetite, and Tanya was probably a bit uncomfortable. The delicious aroma now among them completely covered any residue of the odors they’d previously suffered through. Melted cheese dripped luxuriously from thick warm crusts. The spiciness of peppers and onions contrasted with the earthiness of savory meats. It would be difficult to imagine a better meal for tired, hungry people who didn’t want to cook.

  It didn’t take much time to consume the entire, extra large pizza.

  After they were through eating, Beth again thanked Tanya for bringing the food.

  “I don’t mind.” Tanya wiped her full lips. “We’re always looking for new places to eat.”

  Connie handed her enough cash to cover the whole bill. “I told Jeff I’d treat.”

  “No, no.” Jeff extracted a five and left the rest in Connie’s hand. “It’ll be Dutch.”

  Beth quickly got her purse and also pitched in five dollars.

  Jeff handed Tanya the money. “Everything okay with your mom?”

  Tanya nodded but didn’t speak. Then her eyes grew moist. “Mom was hounding me again. You know, her favorite topic.” Tanya stood and turned away from the others. “I get so tired...”

  Jeff jumped up and draped a toned armed around Tanya’s lean shoulder. “It’s okay, Hon. It’s our business and she has no right meddling. And upsetting you.”

  Connie looked like she wished she had a call to return.

  Beth rose from the couch and moved closer, but not so near that she was in their space. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s her mother. We’re not having children soon enough to suit her schedule and she won’t stop harping about it.” Jeff rubbed his wife’s slight shoulders. “Sometimes it’s a bit hard to take.”

  Connie nodded—she obviously understood this topic as well.

  “I’ve gotten a bit of that too, Tanya. Enough to know how it hurts... whatever your reason for waiting.” Beth had three extra years of reasons. “It’s nothing for anybody else to decide, not even eager grandmothers.”

  Tanya turned. “If she wouldn’t act like I’m abnormal for wanting to wait. All we want is enough savings built up that we can get through a few years without my paycheck.” Tears rolled down her thin cheeks. “I don’t want to go back to work after six weeks and leave my baby in day care.”

  “We want Little Jeff to be at home in the formative years.” That explanation came from Big Jeff.

  “Oh, stop it with Little Jeff.” Tanya smiled through her tears. “You know that girls run in my family.”

  “Little Tanya will be just as good, hon.” He hugged her. “When we’re ready.”

  Tanya took a moment to dab at her eyes and cheeks. “So, Beth... Jeff tells me you’re on the hunt for some elusive treasure. Any luck so far?”

  Beth briefly explained what they’d learned to that point and how they’d begun with the rather simple notion of looking for a diary she vaguely remembered.

  “And that’s why you were robbed last weekend?”

  “That’s all we’ve come up with so far.” Beth nodded. “My ex-boyfriend is on his way here to try to help... in his own, sometimes, very physical way.”

  “Shane’s coming here from California?” Connie hadn’t heard.

  “Tonight?” Neither had Jeff.

  “No, not tonight. Not sure when he’ll get in. He might’ve left this morning, unless he changed his mind.”

  Tanya didn’t look like she understood any of the information about Shane.

  “We more or less broke up when I came here to help with my brother. I figured it was over for good, but Shane—just in the past few days—has started acting like we still have something left between us.”

  “Do you?” Tanya actually seemed interested. Maybe she’d like it better if Beth had a boyfriend around.

  Beth slumped her shoulders and looked away briefly. She didn’t know. But she couldn’t think about it now anyway. Change the subject. “Okay, folks... let’s get back to work.” She pointed toward the garage. “Tanya, we’d love your help, if you’re able to stay a little bit.”

  She hesitated. “Well, maybe a few minutes. Just to see what you’re working on.”

  Jeff grinned. He probably knew she’d soon become just as hooked as he was.

  Connie rolled her eyes but followed everyone out to the garage.

  Beth put the photo album on a utility table and reopened the ancient case. Then she picked up another small stack of loose items and pointed to the remaining contents. Connie and Jeff each grabbed a few pieces.

  Tanya watched cautiously and then covered her face. “What’s that awful smell?”

  “Oh, just a little mustiness. You’ll get used to it.” Beth pointed again to the disheveled contents of the case.

  Connie shook her head and pinched her nose. “Nuh uh. It’s like a dull needle probing your sinuses.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Jeff chuckled. “Just picture wet gym socks after a few weeks... but they never dried out yet.”

  “My husband, the salesman!” Tanya smiled softly.

  “Hey, here’s a legal document... uh, about a mortgage, apparently.” Jeff pointed to the faded page. “Concerns the property of a Mister Harte. Ring any bells?”

  Beth shook her head sideways.

  “Here’s some more names.” Connie waved another document. “Somebody named Elizabeth Margaret Madison born in England. 1880s.” She handed it to Beth. “Lists birth dates and places. Must be a birth certificate.”

  It was about eight-by-fourteen inches. Beth examined both sides quickly. “No. A British birth certificate would likely be on a smaller government form and have a seal or something. This is a California legal paper... affidavit, according to the back.” She held it up so they could see. “I’d guess it’s related to a succession matter, since it has several other peoples’ names.” Beth put it aside.

  “Odd to find a nineteenth century British kid in a California dumpster.” Jeff had a point.

  Connie returned t
o the huddle around the overnighter. “Well, there’s no reason to suspect that family photo album and these couple of documents are related—to each other or to anything else in there. All this stuff could be household trash from dozens of different people using the same dumpster.”

  She was right, of course, but Beth didn’t want to hear it. Beth wanted—no, needed—some of the overnighter’s material to be connected... somehow.

  Connie rubbed her nose with the cleanest part of her wrist. “Besides, we just came after a few movie pictures and some old diary. Why do we care about any of the rest of this?”

  “Because...” Beth tightened her jaw, “these are pieces of somebody’s life.”

  Connie looked chastened, but not convinced.

  Everyone obviously realized there was a lot of very general—and quite diverse—clutter in that little suitcase.

  Jeff retrieved a tightly packed manila envelope and perched on the dusty fabric of a camp chair. He cautiously peered inside. “Jackpot!” He held up a fistful of photos of actors in costumes.

  “The movie pix you mentioned?” Tanya leaned in closely.

  “Here’s the silent movie stills that your ex raved about.” Jeff waved one in the air toward Beth.

  “That’s an interesting coincidence,” intoned Connie. “One person tosses movie pictures and another dumps Vaudeville programs.”

  Beth didn’t want to jump to false conclusions, but it was far more than coincidence that one particular dumpster had contained programs from Vaudeville productions and publicity stills from what were certainly silent movies. Even if nothing else in the overnighter was connected, those two groups had to be. But what—or who—were they connected to?

  “A name!” Jeff nearly jumped up, which was difficult because of how low one’s rump settles in typical camp chairs. “Lynette Harte! Our little girl in the siblings photograph, Lynette... probably after she married. It’s written on the backs of these two. No, three! Three movie photos have her name on the back.”

  “Let me see.” Beth grabbed those with names. “That little girl became a lovely young woman. Plus an actor’s name. Cal Edwin... evidently her co-star.”