Murder by Proxy

by Suzanne Young

“Apparently, I can't stop you from talking to Ernie Freedman, so I'm going to tell you what I know. You can decide if you should tell him or not, but I'm hoping you'll keep this to yourself.”

  She nodded and waited for him to go on.

  After a few seconds' pause, as if giving his mother a chance to say something, he continued. “Anita was supposed to come here for dinner the day after her parents' funeral. Instead, when Karissa and I got home from a doctor's appointment, there was a message on the answering machine.” He turned and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “She said she was going away and would call when she could. She asked that we not mention anything to anyone—and she emphasized anyone—about the call. Karissa was having one of her bad days and had gone to lie down. Anita sounded scared. I didn't want to upset my wife, so I erased the message and told her only that Anita had decided to go away for a few days.”

  “Anita didn't say where she was going or explain why she didn't want anyone to know?”

  He sighed and swiveled his head to look over at her. “To be honest, I didn't hear everything she said. She must have been in her car, not at her house, and she was probably heading into the mountains because the call kept breaking up. I had to listen to the recording several times to understand the little I just told you.”

  “Don't you want to know where she is?”

  “Of course I do.” He ran both hands through his curly hair in a gesture of frustration as he straightened up. “Look, Ma, Anita was a bundle of nerves the last time I saw her. Her parents had just been killed in a freak accident, her marriage was on the rocks, and Rice was hassling her about the divorce.”

  She was surprised at this last statement. “Does Rice want a divorce so he can marry Brea?” When she thought about it, she didn't feel Brea would be the type of wife a young, ambitious executive would pick. She thought Brea was too immature and self-centered to put a husband's career first. A woman like that was more likely to put his charge cards first. Edna's mind returned to matters at hand when she heard Grant's short, mirthless laugh.

  “No, just the opposite. Rice has been trying to persuade Anita to drop the idea. Now that she's the one who wants out of the marriage, he's changed his tune. Guess he's as close to groveling as that ego of his will allow.”

  “Aren't you concerned that you haven't heard anything from her in all this time?”

  “Of course I am.” He looked at her as if surprised she needed to ask. “But she said she wanted to be alone. No matter how worried I might be, I have to respect that. She's smart. She can take care of herself. For heaven's sake, she drives around that desolate territory of hers for weeks at a time.”

  Wondering if he was trying to convince himself as well as her, Edna reached out to touch his shoulder. Remembering what Ernie had said about a feeling of illusion, that Anita was there, but yet she wasn't there, she said, “If the message she left was so indistinct, are you certain it was Anita? Could it have been someone pretending to be her?”

  He frowned. “Why would someone pretend to be her?” Picking up the remote control for the television, he sat back and frowned at her. “Don't go getting weird on me, Ma. I've told you what I know. She asked me to keep a confidence, telling me she needed to be alone for a while. Now, I'm asking you to respect my confidence.” As if to signal the end of the conversation, he turned the set to the ten o'clock news as he added, “Besides, there really isn't anything to tell.”

  Edna caught very little of what the TV anchors had to say for the next twenty minutes or so. She was going over in her mind what Ernie had told her and what Grant had just said. She felt more than ever that something must have happened to Anita and snapped out of her reverie only when Grant turned off the television and the room went suddenly silent.

  “I really wish you'd speak to Ernie.” She tried once more to reason with her son, wanting to provoke some urgency in him. “You consider her a friend, and there's a possibility that she might be in serious trouble. Ernie's a professional. What in her message can't you tell anyone? You don't even know where she's gone, do you? Why don't you want to help? Working together, you and he may be able to find her.”

  With a deep sigh, Grant rose from his seat. “Ma, you haven't been listening to me. What if he's working for Rice? I won't betray her to a guy like that.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “I know you're concerned, but she'll show up. You'll see. Now, I've had a long day and I've really got to get some sleep.”

  “Is it possible that Lia was killed because she knew Anita's whereabouts?”

  He didn't react with the scorn she half expected. She had said it mostly to jar him out of a complacency she found both annoying and distressing. How could she instill in him some of her growing concern for Anita?

  “You know, that's something that has never made sense to me. Lia didn't usually jog at that hour. Anita was the one who got up before dawn and ran before work, not Lia.” He had picked up the TV's remote control and fiddled with it for several seconds before his next question took her off guard. “Did Freedman ever tell you why he's so intent on finding Anita?”

  Hopeful that the question meant Grant might be willing to confide in Ernie, she told him about Anita's great-aunt and the inheritance that would be lost if an immediate relative didn't visit Elizabeth Maitland before the old woman died.

  By the time she reached the end of her story, he had sat back down, and his expression showed alarm. “Ma, Anita doesn't have any relatives.” He probably saw the doubt on her face because he grew more agitated. “When Michele talked so much about our families, Anita used to say she wished she'd had a brother or sister, or even an aunt or uncle. If this Freedman guy is handing you some cock-and-bull story about a dying great-aunt, he's a phony. I'm worried about you, Ma. I wish you'd listen to me and stay away from him.”

  “It's possible she might not have known about her great-aunt. Maybe her father never talked about his relatives from New York, since he'd had the falling out with his father.”

  Shaking his head, Grant placed the remote control on the coffee table and turned to take her hands in his. “What do you actually know about this guy? Even if we leave Rice out of the picture, you don't know really why Freedman is looking for her, do you? All you know is what he chooses to tell you, and it doesn't fit with what I know about Anita. Why are you willing to believe him and not me?”

  His question took her by surprise. She didn't have an answer. She only felt she could trust Ernie and that someone needed to find Anita. Why would he make up such an elaborate lie if he wasn't who he claimed to be? Yet, Grant had a point. What did she know about the man?

  Grant let go of her hands, finally breaking the growing silence. “I need to get to bed. I wish you'd think about what you're doing. And please, whatever you do, don't mention any of this to Karissa. I don't want her worrying about Anita on top of everything else she's going through.”

  Edna felt the unspoken condemnation in his voice, that he was afraid she, his mother, would endanger not only his wife but his unborn child. As she watched him retreat down the hall, she felt that any progress she had made that day to ease tensions with her son had been wiped away. She felt guilty about burdening him when his nerves must be on edge with the stress of his wife's condition on top of the long hours he'd been working. She thought about the phone message Anita had left and wasn't reassured that all was well.

  Wearily, she got ready for bed, a sense of unease knotting her stomach. Just before she dropped off to sleep, she remembered she hadn't returned Albert's phone call.

  Eleven

  Next morning, Edna was startled awake by a loud knocking.

  “Gramma, Gramma.” Jillian's voice came through the door before the girl did. “Are you still sleeping?” She was standing by the bedside. “Daddy wants to know if you can drive me to school.” She put a hand on Edna's shoulder and bent over to peer into her face.

  Edna struggled to wake fully. “Yes. What time is it?” But Jillian had alre
ady run from the room and was shouting as she disappeared down the hall.

  “She said yes, Daddy. Gramma will take me to school.”

  By the time Edna was dressed and in the kitchen, Grant had already made breakfast for his family and left for work, so she had no idea what sort of mood he was in. Jillian was sitting at the dining room table, finishing a bowl of cereal.

  Karissa sat across from Jillian with a half-eaten breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. She looked up as Edna came into the room. “The coffee's hot.”

  Edna was pouring the steaming liquid into a large ceramic mug when she remembered again that she had not yet called Albert. Excusing herself, she took her coffee into the living room, dug the cell phone out of her tote and pressed the speed dial number for her home in Rhode Island. After four rings the answering machine kicked in. Looking at the clock on the mantel, she figured it was about ten minutes past nine on the East Coast. If he was out of the house this early, Albert had probably gone to play golf. She left a message that she had called and was sorry to have missed him, before returning to the dining room as Jillian ran off to get her book bag.

  “Sudie is coming to spend the day with me,” Karissa said. “You're welcome to join us, but it's supposed to be another beautiful day. Sunny and low seventies. I know you probably miss your walks. I can give you directions to a couple of scenic hiking trails nearby, if you'd prefer to get outdoors for a bit.”

  “That's very thoughtful of you.” Edna felt relief. She hadn't known how she would manage to leave the house long enough to visit the Colliers' residences. Karissa certainly made things easy for her. It was as if her daughter-in-law could read her mind. “Have you and Sudie made special plans for today?” she asked over the rim of her cup.

  Karissa laughed, sounding happier than Edna had heard her recently. “Yes, we have. I'm teaching her how to do smocking. She wants to make a dress for her niece from a pattern I designed for Jilly.”

  As if on cue, Sudie came into the room carrying a large canvas bag and followed by a bouncing Jillian, who apparently had seen the neighbor and let her in before she had a chance to ring the doorbell. The women spent several minutes in pleasant conversation over their coffee before Jillian informed her grandmother it was time to leave for school.

  After dropping Jilly at the elementary school, Edna drove to Safeway and went to the lunch area to wait for Ernie. She could have spent the half hour back at the house, but she wanted time to organize her thoughts. She had already decided to trust her intuition about the detective and ignore Grant's warnings. Besides, she would be sticking close to Ernie and once they found Anita, if he turned out to be something other than what he claimed … well, she would deal with that when the time came.

  Buying coffee and a Danish, she took a table close to the wall and dug in her tote bag for paper and pencil, preparing to make a list of what she had learned about Anita so far. She had just bitten into the sticky, apple-cinnamon pastry when Ernie appeared at her shoulder, towering over her in his rumpled brown suit.

  “You're early,” he said.

  “So are you,” she replied after swallowing quickly and glancing at her watch.

  “Thought I'd get here ahead of schedule and have breakfast. That looks good.” He eyed her pastry.

  She laughed at his hungry look, like a small child drooling over candy. “Go get yourself some breakfast. We're in no hurry. I have the next several hours off.” She felt as though she were playing hooky from school.

  By the time Ernie returned, she was still no closer to putting anything on paper. He had bought two glazed doughnuts and a large cup of coffee. He dropped several napkins down with the rest of his purchases as he squeezed his bulk into the chair opposite her.

  She frowned, watching him take a big bite of doughnut. “None of this is making sense to me.”

  With his mouth full and unable to answer, he simply raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Where do you suppose Anita could have gone, and why hasn't she called any of her friends or her workplace? It's been about six weeks now, hasn't it?”

  Ernie took a sip of coffee to wash down the doughnut. When he could talk, he said, “That's what I've been asking for the past four days.” The twinkle in his eyes softened the what-do-you-think-I've-been-doing-all-this-time tone in his voice. “I've checked the hospitals and the morgue. I've contacted police and rescue departments, asking if there have been any accidents involving females matching Anita's description. She's been gone long enough that I'd expect more of a paper trail, but there isn't even that to go on.”

  “Paper trail?” she asked, jotting the words in her small notepad.

  “Credit card receipts mostly. You know, from buying gas or staying in a motel. I can't believe the slips wouldn't have started coming in yet, but the credit companies don't have charges for any of her cards.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Friend of a friend,” he responded, taking another bite of doughnut and not looking at her.

  She thought about that and decided not to ask him if it was legal to obtain such information. Instead, she said, “Could she be staying with someone? Maybe she has a cabin somewhere. Grant tells me that's a popular thing out here, sort of like people having camps or beach houses in Rhode Island.”

  He nodded. “Thought of that, too. I spent part of yesterday looking for titles or leases the Colliers might have had.” He shook his head. “Nothing turned up.”

  “Do you think she could be with a friend?”

  “I'm pretty sure I've spoken to all her friends, and nobody's come up with any new names to add to my list.”

  He leaned forward to bite into his second doughnut.

  She felt her heart sink. “So where do we go from here? It sounds like you've done all you can.”

  He shook his head as he chewed and swallowed fast. “Don't give up yet. Talking through these cases usually helps turn up something new.” He grinned self-consciously. “If I can't get someone else to listen, I talk to myself.”

  Feeling not the least encouraged, she tried to smile as she picked up an unused napkin from the small pile he had brought to the table. She needed a larger piece of paper than her small notebook to write on. Picking up her pen, she unfolded and smoothed out the napkin. “You talk, and I'll write,” she answered his quizzical look while he finished his breakfast. “It might help you to talk, but it helps me to see things written down.”

  “Where do you want to start?” he said. “I've gone over this so many times in my own head, it might help if you ask me the questions that are on your mind.”

  “Okay.” She thought for a second or two before saying the first thing that solidified in her head. “Why hasn't she phoned anyone?”

  Ernie slowly sipped coffee that was probably cold by now before answering. “Assuming she's alive, and I haven't found evidence to prove otherwise,” he added hastily, “I'm inclined to think you're right. I think she must be staying with someone, and either that person is lying to me about her whereabouts, or she's met someone that none of her other friends knows about.”

  Edna wrote the words STRANGER and FRIEND at the top of the unfolded napkin and added a question mark next to each. “It seems to me that she would still try to contact someone unless she's being held against her will.”

  He scratched the top of his head, frowning. “Not necessarily. Maybe she isn't thinking of the folks at home. She's recently lost her parents. She's probably still licking her wounds.”

  Edna shook her head. “I think anyone who has suffered a recent loss, as she has, would want her friends around. Loving faces and friendly hugs give you strength to heal.” She thought again of Grant's first wife and how much being around family had helped Edna to handle her grief. Forcing the memory to the back of her mind, she returned to the current problem, “So, you think it's her choice to remain incommunicado and I think she's being held against her will.”

  She wrote BY CHOICE and BY FORCE on the napkin. She thought of Grant's co
nfidence of the evening before. Was it Anita who had left the message on his phone the afternoon after her parents' funeral? Why wouldn't it have been? She decided to assume it was the woman herself who had made the call. She hadn't yet made up her mind, however, to fill Ernie in on what Grant had told her, not that it was much.

  The detective's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Actually, I agree with you. I think she's being held against her will. I only threw that other idea out to see what sort of credence you'd give it. I'm inclined to think that someone must be preventing her from contacting her friends. I've thought so almost from the beginning.”

  “Do you think it's someone you've already spoken to?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who do you think it is?” She felt her insides tingle with anticipation.

  He frowned. “I think maybe Grant knows where she is.”

  Edna felt her temper rise, then forced it back down as she tried to look at the situation from Ernie's point of view. It certainly made sense, and the long hours he spent at the office … Was Grant really working late all those evenings? Aloud, she said, “I don't think Grant could keep that kind of secret from me. I would have sensed by now if he weren't being truthful with me.”

  “Well, you asked, and that's my gut feeling. I don't have any sort of proof, mind you.” Ernie spoke as if to appease her, then popped the last piece of doughnut into his mouth and wiped his hands on a crumpled up napkin. “What are your thoughts about Anita's disappearance? You've talked to some of the people she works with.”

  “I don't really know what to think. That's why I'm going through this exercise. I guess I'd like to talk to a few of the people you've already questioned. Maybe they'll tell me something they haven't told you. After all, I'm just a harmless old woman, mother to one of Anita's friends, not a detective.” She smiled conspiratorially at Ernie.