by Lin, Harper
“Matthew, I know you’re upset. Everybody is, but we have to pull together. The police are doing all they can. We have to keep together.”
Matthew only stomped his feet and stormed out. I scurried behind the door so that he didn’t see me. I listened to him charge down the stairs and slam the front door shut.
When I slipped out of the crack between the wall and the opened door, I rounded the corner and ran into Joanne at the bottom of the staircase. I almost gasped at the sight of her staring back at me with her narrowed eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Are you still here?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. Blood rose to my cheeks from getting caught. I had to get better at my spying skills. “I was just going to say goodbye to Eleanor, but seeing as there’s all this commotion…”
“You’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No, no, of course not. I’m a musician.”
She gave me a once-over. “Musician? What kind of music?”
“I sing. My style of music is contemporary blues and soul.”
“I don’t listen to music,” she said.
“Right.”
Who didn’t listen to music?
“Got those journalists snooping around here all day yesterday, with their cameras and tape recorders. I had to shoo them away with my broom. Now the police are coming, wanting their coffee and donuts.”
“Er, yes. They can be quite a nuisance. When are they coming exactly?”
“Any minute now.”
I better question her fast if I wanted to get out before Sandra showed up.
“So that’s some commotion now, with Matthew. Do they argue like this often?”
Joanne looked at me, then nodded. I could tell she wanted someone to vent to about the going-ons of the house. Now that I’ve spoken to Henry, I figured that she had no one else to talk to about this sort of thing.
“Yeah, well, don’t mind him, them two men never got along in this house.”
“It must be extra upsetting for Matthew to have his siblings go missing. But why would he accuse the mayor of not caring?
“I don’t blame Matthew really. Richard’s always berating everyone around him. The kids, he wife, even us. Poor Henry. He must’ve called Henry a retard about a million times. Can you believe that?”
“That’s terrible.”
“He even calls me a lazy cow when I don’t have the food ready on time.”
“How do you stand it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said grimly. “He attacks Henry of being mentally ill, but you know who’s really ill? The mayor! He has two different personalities! To the public he’s charming, loveable, all jokes and all smiles. If we’re lucky, he’s like that here when he’s had a good day at work. But when he’s cross, watch out! Luckily he works a lot. Ignores his kids really. Only uses them to pose for photo ops. Like at the Snowman Festival.”
“Oh, were you there?”
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, only passing by on my way home from the grocery store. I saw the kids on stage when the mayor was making a speech.”
“I see. Well, who do you suspect kidnapped the kids?”
“Who knows,” she said. “Maybe it’s those friends that he goes drinking with. Maybe he shows his true colors to them. I don’t know where he goes with them. The wife doesn’t ask.”
“It must be such negative work environment here.”
“Everybody else is nice,” she said. “We all get along. Just the mayor is the bad egg. I suppose it’s because he’s a politician. After blood and power. They’re all the same.”
“What about the baby-sitter, Isla? How does she like working here?”
“Seems like a nice girl,” she said. “Likes the kids. Doesn’t like the mayor either, although she doesn’t interact with him as much as we have to.”
“So she’s not coming in today, is she?”
“Why would she? The kids are gone. She’s out of a job if they come back. God help them. Isla needs the work too.”
“Why? Is she in financial trouble?”
“All I know is, her father’s unemployed and she’s been working hard. And the mayor stiffed her on her Christmas bonus this year. University aint cheap and I think she’s deep in student loans.”
Before I could inquire further, the doorbell rang.
“Oh, they’re here. Ate all the donuts last time, so none for them today!”
Joanne bustled out to get the door.
I followed, wondering if I could slip out the back. Before I could even budge, Joanne threw the door open.
“What are you doing here?” Sandra asked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sterling stepped in behind her, along with two other policemen. Did they really need that many policemen to look at a note?
“Hi.” I flashed my biggest smile to deflect Sandra’s scowl. She didn’t smile back.
“Hi Emma.” Sterling wore an amused expression. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”
“Didn’t I warn you about getting mixed up with official police business?” Sandra asked bluntly.
“I’m here to see Eleanor,” I said innocently. “She’s my friend. Is it a crime to visit a friend?”
Richard and Eleanor came down the stairs to greet the police. Richard’s face was still red with anger, and Eleanor looked like she had been crying again.
I told Eleanor that I’d give them their privacy and would be going now. I could feel Sandra’s eyes burning a hole into me as I walked past her.
When I went out the door, Sterling came out after me.
“Emma, wait.”
He closed the door and grabbed my wrist.
“I’m sorry about my partner,” he said.
“Yeah, well, it’s not your fault I guess.”
“Everyone’s on edge because of the case.”
“I get it.”
“I apologize for any rudeness on her part.”
“You can’t apologize for someone else, but I appreciate it. Any progress on the case?”
He shook his head, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t make any progress or if he just didn’t want to tell me.
“That’s okay if you can’t tell me,” I said. “How’s your new partner working out anyway?”
“She’s efficient. Of course I’d much rather be working with you. She is a bit hot tempered, so sometimes it helps with the suspects. I get to be the good cop for once, if you can believe it.”
“I believe it.” I smiled.
Sterling smiled back, but his expression dropped into an even more serious one. He put his hands on my shoulders.
“Listen, Emma, I know you like to do detective work, but this is a serious case. The people we are investigating are criminals. I don’t want you snooping around and getting mixed up with something dangerous on your own, okay?”
“But Sterling—”
“Please,” Sterling looked deeply into my eyes.
I looked back into Sterling’s warm grey eyes. I wished he would put his strong arms around me to hug me, and kiss me. I was tempted to initiate it, but this wasn’t the time.
“I’m not getting mixed up with those guys,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
It was the truth. I wasn’t investigating other politicians and con artists. I was looking more into baby-sitters and housekeepers. But it would’ve sounded too silly to tell him. I would if I had more proof.
I could’ve been completely off track as well.
Still, I wished I could work with Sterling like old times. Must that Sandra be around all the time?
“Let’s talk when this is all over,” Sterling said.
His look let me know that he was ready to hear my answer: whether I was choosing Nick or him.
“Okay.” I smiled and he smiled back. I wondered if he could tell that I’d already chosen him.
I stood still, hoping that Sterling would lean in and kiss me. He only looked at my lips, considering it. I felt heat al
l over my body from his intense gaze.
“Sterling?” Sandra stuck her head out.
She blinked at us.
“So talk later?” Sterling said.
“Sure. Good luck with the case.”
I watched Sterling walk back inside.
I knew I shouldn’t take Sandra’s nasty attitude so personally, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the way things were going to be. Why did she find me to be such a nuisance? Maybe she had a little crush on Sterling. I saw the way she looked at him just now, as if he was her possession. And were they in fact on a date when I saw them at my ceremony, or was Sterling just being nice and showing her around the town?
Maybe she was simply a hot tempered cop. I didn’t like the fact that Sterling made excuses for her behavior, but he was a gracious guy. He wouldn’t slag her off behind her back, and I didn’t expect him to.
As much as I ached to be with him, everybody was so worked up about the case and so was I. I just needed a bit more confidence in my own skills.
So far it sounded like everyone could be suspects. Joanne obviously had issues with the family, but as a kidnapper, she wouldn’t be spilling all her grievances on me, would she? Henry had mental issues, but was he crazy? Was his overly optimistic attitude a facade for a nasty dark side? Matthew sounded like he hated the mayor and resented his mother. Could he have kidnapped the kids to get back at them somehow? He was certainly angry. And what about Isla? Not accepted for being a lesbian in the Champ house, and full of financial burden, she had plenty of motive to make some quick cash as well.
As I thought about this, Mirabelle called me.
“So, part of the note sounded familiar,” she said. “And I couldn’t figure out why. Then I finally realized that it’s from a Harold Winken poem. It’s not very famous, but Winken was a local poet. Well, he grew up in Hartfield in the 1940’s anyway. Then he traveled, had a sort of tramp lifestyle.”
“Never heard of him,” I said. “What is the poem?”
“All his poems are untitled, so they take the first line from each poem. This one’s called ‘At the Wake of Dusk, A Swallow called’. I found it in our library. It’s actually an old book of mom’s.”
“Are you still at mom’s house?” I asked.
“No, I went back to my house, but I have the book with me, so come over.”
“Great, I’m waving down a cab, so I’ll see you in five minutes.”
When I got to Mirabelle’s house, we dissected the poem.
“I think this poem is saying that life is transient and that we should love each other unconditionally,” I said.
“Weird for someone who is threatening to kill little kids.”
“Whoever it is is well-read,” I said.
“A poetry lover.”
Something struck me. “Their baby-sitter is a literature major. Plus she had a day off when the kids were kidnapped.”
“What, you think she’s holding them ransom for tuition money or something?”
“Could be a possibility. Can I use your computer?”
“Sure,” Mirabelle passed me her laptop on the coffee table.
“Let’s see. Isla Waterstone.”
I typed the baby-sitter’s name in Google to see what would pop up. The first two were links to another Isla Waterstone, an amateur figure skater from Iowa. The third link was the nanny. It was her profile page from Callen University’s website. She was the secretary of C.U.’ S Charity Association. Under her bio, it said that she loved road trips, video games and poetry slams. No picture.
“Well it is someone who knows their poetry,” said Mirabelle. “But does that make her a kidnapper?”
“I’ll have to find out. I wonder where she is now. I want to talk to her. Chances are she’s in class. But who would know which class?”
I searched Isla on Facebook. I found her out of a dozen of other Isla Waterstones when I saw the name of her school in connection with one profile. Isla’s profile picture was of the back of her head. She was standing over the lake. She had short brown hair, and seemed to be dressed very boyishly in a white hoodie and black leather jacket. If I’d only seen her from the back this way, I would’ve assumed that she was a guy. Perhaps she was the “man” I saw at the festival?
She kept a huge portion of her profile private, but I was able to learn some basic facts about her.
She was in a relationship with a girl named Camille Frankfurt.
I went to Camille Frankfurt’s page. Her profile was a lot more active. She was a trainer at the Harfield community centre gym and her posts were mostly fitness tips, inspirational quotes and nutrition tips. Under her musical likes, my fan page was there.
“Look at you,” Mirabelle said. “You have two million fans? That number’s doubled since the last time I checked!”
I chuckled. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”
“So she’s a fan of yours. Are you going to to talk to her?
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe she knows where Isla is right now.”
“Here.” Mirabelle gave me her keys. “Take my car.”
“Thanks.”
“Try not to get into too much trouble.
“I’ll try,” I said.
CHAPTER NINE
I drove Mirabelle’s adorable navy Mini Cooper to the community centre. The parking lot was full, probably because of all the seniors who enjoyed swimming during the day.
A middle-aged receptionist with hair like a beehive sat at the front desk. She smiled at me when I came in.
“Hello,” I said. “I was wondering if I can see Camille Frankfurt?”
“Do you have a membership?” she asked.
“No.”
“I’m afraid you need a membership for access to the gym.”
“Oh, I don’t need access. I’m not here to work out. I just wanted to talk to her.”
“In that case, she is in the gym training someone at the moment. I don’t know when she has a break, so you can go right on in and ask her.”
“Thanks!”
I used to go to the centre a lot as a child. Swimming was my favorite activity. I probably never even stepped into the gym more than twice growing up. Even now, I’d do yoga, pilates and Zumba—anything other than being in a gym with all those sweaty machines. I just hated the smell of human sweat and mechanical machinery. Now that I was a celebrity however, there was no avoiding gyms, or trainers, for too long, and I had to face the unpleasant odors more times than I could bear on some weeks when I had to be especially fit for a photo-shoot or something.
