Brenda, on the other hand, attended university and obtained degrees in psychology and business management. She took up a position within her father’s firm and soon became an equal partner. Brenda enjoyed life to the full, working and playing hard. She dated several men and fell hopelessly in love with an aspiring politician.
“He swept her off her feet,” continued Molly. “She wouldn’t listen to me when I said I had bad vibes about the guy. Call it the Irish in me if you like, but I usually read people well. I did not warm to the guy.” Molly took a deep breath before continuing. “Her future seemed secure, until she became pregnant. The furious politician told her marriage and children were not part of his immediate plans. He cruelly abandoned her. She sat here at the kitchen table with her father, Nora and me. We were all three concerned and distressed at her plight. She swore us to secrecy about the name of the baby’s father. Brenda was adamant. She told us, ‘No one must ever know who he is. I will tell my child when I think the time is right, but now, I do not want to hear his name mentioned ever again.’”
A few months later, young Lucy Mears was born and entered the lives of Molly and Nora.
Nora answered Detective Carr’s questions honestly and openly. She was still in shock at discovering her George was not the man she thought he was.
“I feel I don’t know him at all,” she moped. “We fell in love shortly after he came to work for Brenda. I was attracted to his quick wit, his hard work ethic and ambition. He was a joy to be around.”
“Was he resentful of Brenda Mears’ wealth?”
“Not so much that as envious. He was determined to branch out in his own business when he had enough to set himself up in the computer world. He supported my dream of someday owning a hotel. I had no idea where he went on his conferences and I.T. courses. I never asked. I trusted him. I took his word for it that he was at a computer course. Where is he, Detective? He is innocent of these whispered accusations. He and Lucy could be injured somewhere, lying in a ditch or something. He loved her like the rest of us and she trusted him implicitly; he could never harm her.”
“Was there any change in his behaviour recently, can you recall?”
“Come to think of it, yes! Some months ago he came back from one of his conferences, bright-eyed and happier than I’d seen him in a while.” Nora smiled as she recalled happier times. “He had purchased a new, state-of-the-art Mac and was ecstatic when it was delivered. Over the next few months, he lavished gifts on me, jewellery, flowers, and meals. ‘You sure we can afford this George?’ I asked. ‘Honey, don’t you worry your pretty head about this, everything’s under control, babe,’ he said to me. I’d never seen him so happy.”
Detective Carr asked as gently as she could, “Nora, I have to ask you a sensitive question, please don’t be upset, but we have to probe every minute piece of information and ideas in order to bring Lucy home. Is it possible that George and Lucy have run off?”
“WHAT!” screamed Nora. “No, not my George. How could anyone think such foul thoughts about my George? We all adored Lucy, but as for anything else, you are way too wrong!”
“Nora, sometimes in my job, I have to ask very disturbing questions. It’s best to have things out in the open.”
Nora sobbed uncontrollably. Detective Carr left her in the care of her equally distressed mother. Both women were still traumatized at the turn of events in what had been a previously peaceful existence.
“Detective,” said Molly as she led them off the premises. “Will we ever see Lucy again?”
Carr patted her on the back and whispered, “I hope so. I really hope so!”
Chapter 11
Lucy became more agitated with each passing day, forcing her minders to reinstate a mild sedation.
“I dislike doing this,” said the woman, with concern in her voice.
They trundled on, across ever changing landscapes, stopping every now and again for respite. Their preferred resting place being secluded motels where they were out of sight of public areas.
“This must end soon,” exclaimed Zelda to her partner. “The child has been through enough. This weather is brutal.”
The couple had decided since Lucy now knew the name of her female captor to use it freely. Zelda’s partner introduced himself as Kristof but would not give any other details to the inquisitive girl.
“We have to follow instructions, too much is at stake, Zelda We must continue to travel this road until recalled by Boss.” He sighed in resignation. “It won’t be long now. I have to call tomorrow for further instructions.”
The campervan was more than satisfactory and of the highest quality available. No expense had been spared to ensure their journey would be as comfortable as possible. The trio were becoming increasingly weary and the two captors concerned at the strain placed on their young charge. They longed for it to be over.
***
Harvey’s squad assembled once more to tackle the increasingly worrying abduction of the fifteen-year-old girl.
“Come on, guys, we have to come up with something! The kid’s mother is a multi-millionaire. Anyone looking for money would have demanded a ransom by now.”
“Seems to me, sir, it’s an inside job. Probably an employee of Brenda Mears,” said a young officer, keen to be seen to be involved in the biggest mystery to hit Cook County in as many years.
“Where is George North? Who is he really?” asked another officer in frustration.
Using the whiteboard, the team recapped: a list of all those involved in any way were listed, names crossed out when they were eliminated and the team sure of their innocence. Question marks remained beside those who were still suspects. Number one suspect: George North. Number two suspect: Dale Greer.
***
Ken Farmer dined alone in a smart diner where he was a regular customer. He dined on wholesome food accompanied by one glass of good wine. As he ate, a sealed envelope was placed on his table.
“I was asked to give you this,” said a waiter.
Ken Farmer read the contents of the envelope, put it safely in his pocket, smiled, paid for his meal and left the premises. Returning home, he made a call to be told, “The consignment is on its way.”
***
Brenda Mears increased her time at the office, throwing herself into her latest project with a fearsomeness that frightened her staff. When reality set in, she wept copiously. Myra, always alert to the needs of her boss, put a comforting arm round her shoulders and silently wept for the increasingly futile attempt to find Lucy. At home, as sleep evaded her, Brenda’s despair grew deeper, her pain increased. An ominous silence descended on the household.
Molly continued with her chores, pride no longer in her work. Her heart was heavy with anguish. Nora, bereft for Lucy, confused about George, became more lethargic with each passing day. It was a dismal existence.
***
“Sir,” called a young officer to his superior. “Can you come to the computer room? I think I’ve found something interesting!”
Harvey listened carefully as the young expert explained his findings.
“I re-checked those CCTV tapes of the intruders at Brenda Mears’ home some months ago. Something regarding the tape rankled so I worked on it and came up with this… look here, sir… someone has tried to erase part of the tape, very amateur attempt, if I might say so.”
“Get on with it. What have you found?”
Harvey could be brusque and short tempered when under pressure. The case in hand caused him sleepless nights and he often took his bad temper out on anyone nearby. Those who knew him avoided the raging storm by remaining professional during the onslaughts, knowing that calm would prevail.
“There appears to be three people at the door. This is fuzzy, but you can just see the outline of the guy inside the door. He seems to be accepting an envelope or some kind of small package. If I’m not mistaken, it’s George North.”
Harvey looked closely at the screen. “But he told us the intruders ran off
when he put the outside light on. There’s no outside light in this film. It’s essential we find this guy. George North is up to his eyes in this mess. I’ll put out an A.P.B. on him. Can you identify the other guys?”
“Too dull, sir, but what I can deduce is approximate height. I’ll keep working at it, but I don’t hold out for much improvement.”
“Good work, Simpson!”
“It’s Timpson, sir,” said the young man as Harvey left to report these findings to his task team. Calm had returned. Officers were allocated witnesses to re-interview.
Abigail, Lucy’s friend, was once more interviewed alongside her mother, Gina. Both were still distraught. Abigail, a tall child, had her mother’s striking blue eyes and sharp facial features that drew people towards her magnificent smile, which unfortunately had been vacant for some time. Her blonde, curly hair swept in waves across red-rimmed eyes. She constantly pushed her tresses from her eyes, but the uncontrollable locks defied her attempt at any kind of order.
“I wish I had contacted Brenda when Lucy called off her sleepover,” sobbed Gina. “I was so busy supplying flowers for a wedding to even think of calling to find out if the sick kid had recovered.”
Abigail had tried to text, but Lucy’s mobile number was registered as being no longer available.
“I thought it kind of strange, but didn’t follow it up. I was so disappointed that Lucy had called a rain check. I helped Mom with the wedding flowers and thought no more about it, thinking she might contact me when she felt better.”
Ken Farmer was unable to be interviewed at the precinct. Officers called at his apartment, a neat two-bedded place, tastefully furnished to suit his bachelor lifestyle.
The décor and furniture were exquisite. No expense had been spared by the somewhat eccentric gent. He wore a tailor-made three-piece suit and cream shirt that was adorned by a red bow tie. His long grey hair had a hint of silver through it, giving a salt and pepper effect. For all the world he gave the impression of being an absentminded professor.
“Thank you for coming here, officers,” he said. “I am waiting for an important delivery. I collect and restore old musical instruments. I’m expecting a unique cello today, courtesy of a friend of Mario, owner of the local bistro that I frequent. Mario left a note for me to call to confirm delivery. Today’s the day!”
“Quite a collection you have here, sir,” commented one officer casting an untrained eye over the pieces that almost filled the workroom. “We would like to ask you some questions about Lucy.”
Ken confirmed he had known her since she was eight or nine years of age.
“I was introduced to her by the school’s music teacher who told me of her amazing talent. The child had a quarter-size cello, which she played like a professional. Her mother was keen for her to have regular lessons and I was honoured to be invited to enter the life of such a gifted young musician. Her school had a fine music section in the performing arts programme, where students spend two years on music theory and become involved in orchestras through all levels from beginning to symphony. Lucy has played at school concerts on many occasions, such a rare talent!”
Ken could shed no light on the girl’s disappearance and was visibly overcome when talking about her. Satisfied that he had no involvement in the mystery, the officers began to leave when a truck arrived at the musician’s home. An elated Ken took possession of the long awaited cargo and went into raptures as he opened his treasured package.
“This beauty,” he explained to the officers, “is a unique Pietro Floriani cello, made in Germany around 1875. Cellos were invented in Italy, you know. That is where most of them come from, but to get hold of this German model fills me with so much emotion. These cracks you see here,” he said, pointing them out to his guests, “cause buzzing. Each piece of wood vibrates differently. This is spruce; the spruce top is the sounding board. I hope to restore it to its former glory. I so wish to show this exquisite instrument to young Lucy.”
He sighed with a mixture of joy, elation and sadness.
“We will take our leave of you, Mr. Farmer. Thanks for your time. Enjoy your cello.”
Harvey and Carr spoke to Lucy’s classmates, who were stunned and upset at her disappearance.
“She sat with me in music class,” commented one student. “When I couldn’t get the piece right she helped me fix things. She had a cool way about her, could explain things so I could understand. We are all really worried about her. She’s a really cool kid.”
“Yeah, wish we could help find her,” a spotty-faced, serious-looking kid added. “We sure miss her from class. Lucy’s a brill musician.”
Evelyn Cosimini, a delicate, dainty creature with dark brown eyes and flyaway hair, was Lucy’s music tutor. She told of her last sighting.
“We were packing up, ready for home. The kids were chatting about their plans for the weekend ahead. Lucy mentioned she was having a sleepover with her friend Abigail.” Wiping a tear from her eye, Evelyn continued. “‘I’m so excited,’ she told me. ‘I love being with Abbie and her mom, Gina. Gina’s a fun mom!’ Gina arranged the flowers for my sister’s wedding. We chatted about that and the bridal outfit, as females do, and off she went, quite happy and well. I was puzzled to hear she had called off her sleepover as she was sick; that was before I heard about her abduction. It’s so worrying, Officer. Poor Ken, her home music tutor, is distraught, as are we all.”
Satisfied that no further light could be shed on Lucy’s disappearance from teacher or students, the officers returned to base.
“That confirms it then, the kid was not sick, so it seems likely her abductor put the text through to Abigail and discarded the phone.”
Investigators had tracked down George North’s sisters. Jessica Crawford was living in Wisconsin and had lost touch with her brother since childhood and knew nothing of his whereabouts. She had married in her early twenties, moved away, reared her children and seldom thought about him and the family’s early existence. She kept in touch with her sister, Mary-Lou, who had moved to Ohio after marriage.
“I doubt if she would have anything to add, Officer. She was the youngest and has little memory of George or our parents.”
Jessica recalled a little of their early life. Her memories were scant, recalling it as being a happy, but poor home, until tragedy struck with the loss of her parents.
“Our mother couldn’t cope after Dad’s death. I remember her just sitting in the old rocking chair, weeping as she hugged us, telling us to be brave. George seemed to be the one who cooked and cleaned and looked after us.”
She wiped a tear from her eye, memories of those early days long suppressed, but now foremost in her troubled mind.
“George,” she recalled, “was a kind brother. When it was decided we should move to Wisconsin to live with an aunt, he explained, as best he could, what was to happen to us, despite his own loss. Mary-Lou, I remember, was excited at the prospect of a long road trip, sleeping in George’s arms for most of the journey. We were met in Wisconsin by an aunt and uncle, our mother’s aunt and uncle really, farming folk who made us welcome and gave us a good life with them. We thrived on good, wholesome food and love. Our relatives were elderly, but often said our coming to live with them gave a new lease of life and put a spring in their step. George stayed for a few days then returned to Chicago to take up a college course.
“We exchanged cards and letters for some time, but these soon became less frequent and eventually dried up as we all got on with our lives. I hope George will soon be found. He ain’t in no trouble, is he?”
Jessica Crawford had obviously not heard about the missing child of a million dollar business woman from Chicago. She was parochial in her interest of what went on in the world and to her, Chicago would seem a million miles away. Not wishing to upset the innocent woman, officers assured her they were just making routine enquiries about an ongoing case. They wished to spare her unnecessary distress.
“If her brother is involved in somethi
ng sinister, she will hear about it through time. At the moment, ignorance is bliss,” commented an officer as they left to report to Harvey.
Ensuring no stone was left unturned, officers visited Mary-Lou Cooke. She could not add anything to the investigation, knew nothing of her brother’s life, barely remembered him and only recalled hearing of him from her sister. She was tiny in comparison to her sister. That they were kin was evident from the almost identical facial expressions, colouring and demeanour.
“I kind of remember a long bus ride, but nothing else of my early life other than being with my relatives on the farm in Wisconsin. Jessica would tell me stories of our life in Chicago with our parents. Sadly, all I have to remember them by is a faded wedding picture. I called my first son George, for my brother.”
Mary-Lou produced a faded sepia picture showing a sombre couple posing outside a church building. Both sisters resembled their petite mother. From the most recent picture of George North given to them by Nora, he bore a striking likeness to his father.
“Should he happen to turn up here, ma’am, please get in touch.”
Enquiries from George North’s sisters did not add anything more in the investigation and mystery of Lucy Mears.
Chapter 12
“Has anyone asked about former employees of Mears Empire?” asked Carr.
“Get to it, find out names and locations of all former employees going back as far as necessary, and find out if anyone had a grudge against the company or the owner.”
Myra Hill unearthed lists of former employees, from the time before Brenda took over from her father. Teams of officers worked on finding those people: some had died, some moved from the area, no trace being found for several of them, but investigations continued. Brenda was asked if anyone stood out in her mind of former employees who perhaps held a grudge. Molly, who was in the room, remembered something.
“What about that creepy English guy with the funny name? I never liked him, came around the house too often for my liking. Ellis something…”
CALL MAMA Page 5
