“I don’t care about that now! If they have Flower, it’s a far worse crime than selling a phony oil well. Right now I don’t care about an arrest warrant. We have to find Flower!”
“Absolutely,” Jack agreed.
“I say we go to Conklin’s first,” Alvirah suggested. “If Flower arrived this morning and didn’t know you were in on the lottery, she probably would have gone to see you at work. She doesn’t have a key to your house, does she?”
“She’s never been there,” Duncan said sadly.
“She will be soon,” Glenda encouraged. “Alvirah, I think that’s a good idea to go directly to Conklin’s, although I’m sure Mr. Conklin won’t be too happy to see me after we dumped those miserable wedding pictures on his doorstep this morning. But I don’t care what he thinks.” She turned back to Duncan. “You’d better stay in the car. It’s slippery, and all you need is another fall. I’ll talk to everyone who’s working today.”
They reached the end of the hospital parking lot. “Which way, Glenda?” Jack asked.
“Turn right here and keep going.”
When they pulled up in front of Conklin’s, Regan turned to Glenda. “I’ll come in with you. Duncan, how tall is Flower and how old is she?”
“She’s twenty-four years old, but she looks younger. She’s petite—about 5'3".”
“Can we have the picture, please?”
Reluctantly, Duncan handed it over.
Inside the store, Glenda heard a familiar voice. “Well, look who’s here,” Paige, a teenaged cashier called. “Don’t tell me your ticket’s a fake, and you want your job back?”
Glenda and Regan hurried over to Paige’s register, where a woman pushing a cart filled with overflowing grocery bags had just been checked out. “Paige, I have to talk to you for a minute.”
“Sure.” Paige turned off the light at her station. “What’s up, Moneybags?”
Glenda introduced her to Regan, held up Flower’s picture, and explained the situation. “…she was on her way to visit Duncan and seems to be missing.”
“Sounds like they make a good pair,” Paige cracked as she snapped her gum. “Wasn’t he missing overnight? I can’t believe you guys cut him in on the lottery. You should have asked me. I would have thrown in a buck.”
“Paige, I’m not kidding. This is serious.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“By any chance did you see this girl in the store today?”
Paige studied the picture. “No, I didn’t see her. If she was here and bought anything, she didn’t come through my register.”
“Okay. We’ll go around and speak to the others.”
Paige lowered her voice. “Glenda, you missed the fireworks this morning. The Skunk had a shouting match with Mr. Conklin, and she stormed out. He told her to take her apartment in Boston off the market. Everyone here is so psyched! For us, the Festival of Joy is off and running.”
“You’re kidding!” Glenda exclaimed.
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“It almost makes me want my job back.”
“Oh, sure.”
“Is Mr. Conklin in his office?”
“He’s back in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up. He even put on an apron. They have to get the trays of food ready and over to the Festival.”
“That makes me feel guilty,” Glenda murmured.
“It wouldn’t make me feel guilty,” Paige said, turning her light back on as a shopper approached. “It’s his name over the door. Besides, I’ve never see him in a better mood.”
Glenda and Regan showed Flower’s picture to the other employees. They had all been there since early morning, and no one could remember seeing her.
“Regan, let’s go talk to Mr. Conklin.”
Regan followed her into the large kitchen where a half dozen workers were rushing around, assembling platters of cold cuts and salads.
“Good work everyone!” Sam was saying. “We’re getting that old teamwork spirit back in this store!” He turned and spotted Glenda. For a moment they looked at each other uncertainly, then Sam smiled broadly. He opened his arms and hurried toward her. “Glenda, congratulations, I’m so happy for you,” he exclaimed as he hugged her.
“I’m sorry we left those pictures outside,” Glenda said contritely. “That was mean.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m having my own private bonfire to get rid of them. I don’t know whether you’ve heard…”
“I have,” Glenda said.
“I’m so ashamed of myself. I let her nag me into not giving you bonuses. Come to my office, right now. I know you don’t need it, but I wrote out the checks I should have given you last night. Glenda, you’ve been such a wonderful employee the last eighteen years. It’s almost like you’re my daughter.” He hugged her again. “I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror until those bonus checks are cashed.”
“Mr. Conklin, that’s very kind of you, but we can’t take the time for that now.” Glenda introduced Regan, then showed him Flower’s picture. “Duncan’s sure that she ran into trouble. You didn’t see her in here today, did you?”
Sam studied the picture. “No, I didn’t. Did you ask the others?” He nodded toward the front of the store.
“Yes, no one saw her, and no one remembers anyone asking for Duncan.”
Quickly Sam showed the photo to everyone in the kitchen. The response was negative. “Do you have any idea what time she might have come in?” he asked as he handed Glenda back the picture.
“Our guess is some time after ten o’clock. That’s the time her bus arrived at the station.”
“The Skunk was still here then,” Sam said. “I wonder if she saw her.”
“The Skunk?” Glenda asked.
“Don’t act dumb.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“I could call her if you want to see if she might have talked to Duncan’s girlfriend. I’d only make a call to her for something like this.”
“If you don’t mind. This is important.”
Not surprisingly, Rhoda didn’t pick up the phone. “She’s probably staring at my name on her cell phone right now cussing me out,” Sam said. “Why don’t you take her number and try her yourself? Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
But Rhoda Conklin didn’t pick up when Regan tried her either. Regan left a message identifying herself and explaining the reason for her call. “Please get back to me as soon as possible.”
Sam tapped his finger on the counter. “One of our new kids was working in produce this morning, and Rhoda tried to fire him. He’s out loading the truck now.” The back door opened. “Oh, here he comes. Hey, Zach,” Sam called to the rosy-cheeked young man. “Come here for a minute, would you?”
“Sure, Mr. Conklin.” Zach hurried over.
“No,” he said, shaking his head when he looked at Flower’s picture. “I haven’t seen her. But I’ve got to tell you, she could have been standing in front of me, and I wouldn’t have noticed with the way The Skunk kept yelling at me this morning. Mr. Conklin, I’m so glad you got rid of her,” he said enthusiastically. “Give me a high five.”
“Okay, Zach,” Sam said, as he awkwardly raised his hand. “Keep loading the truck. The mayor’s wife is getting nervous. We’ve got a town to feed.”
“Yo.” Zach picked up another completed tray and headed for the back door.
Glenda sighed. “Thanks, Mr. Conklin. We’d better get going. Duncan’s pretty worried right now.”
“Isn’t it a shame that the day he learns his coworkers are handing him twelve million dollars, he ends up heartsick about his girlfriend? I hope it all works out. Duncan’s a nice fellow.”
“Maybe Flower’s nearby and is going to surprise us all,” Glenda suggested. “Hope to see you over the weekend, Mr. Conklin.”
Out in the car, they had to tell an increasingly agitated Duncan that no one had seen Flower. “But it’s been pretty busy in there today,” Regan said, trying to sound positive. “Let’s go to the bus depot
.”
“Everything’s going wrong!” Duncan cried. “Alvirah just told me about the ring!” He looked out the window at the heavy clouds and the falling snow. “What if Flower suddenly had amnesia and is walking around in this weather?”
At the depot, Duncan insisted on coming inside. A cleaning woman was mopping the floor near the entrance. Regan showed her Flower’s picture and explained why they were looking for her. The woman had only to glance at the picture before saying, “Yes, I saw her this morning. She was in the ladies’ room gussying herself up when I went in there to empty the wastebaskets. A pretty little thing.”
“You’re sure it was her?” Duncan asked.
The woman frowned. “Either that or she was a dead ringer.”
Poor choice of words, Regan thought. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”
“Nothing unusual. Blue jeans, I think. A ski jacket. Might have been gray. She had a red knapsack that had a slogan I hadn’t seen in years. It said FLOWER POWER.”
“That’s definitely her,” Duncan moaned.
“What time did you see her?” Regan asked the woman.
“I’d say it was around 10:30—right before my break.”
The lone agent at the ticket counter had also noticed Flower. “I saw her get off the bus, and then I saw her leave the depot. She definitely hasn’t been back,” he informed them.
Duncan looked at Glenda and Regan. “She’s got to be here somewhere. If I have to ring every doorbell in this town, I will.” He turned, leaned on his crutches, and moving as quickly as the bulky cast would allow, made his way back to the car.
27
The one window in Jed’s office, high on the wall at the back of the shed, had a shade that was pulled most of the way down. Looking up, Flower could tell the snow was falling rapidly. When they left her, Betty had turned out all the lights, and Jed had shut off his three computers. The room was cold even though they had left one space heater on. Otherwise I’d freeze to death, Flower thought, shivering.
In the semidarkness she had already familiarized herself with her surroundings. This place is unbelievable, she thought fearfully. No one would ever guess it existed. And no one would guess, looking at folksy Jed, that he had an operation like this going on either. Keys were hanging over the workbench. A row of files was padlocked. From where she was sitting, Flower could see a screen that showed the activity recorded by eight different security cameras around the bed and breakfast.
They said they had no TV, radio, or internet access, Flower remembered bitterly as she tried to pick at the knots that bound her wrists together behind her back. But she couldn’t reach the knots with her fingers. And this gag is choking me, she thought. She tried to move her jaw, but that only made it harder to breathe. Calm down, she warned herself. But how can I? Even if Duncan gives them the ticket, they’ll never let me go. I can identify all of them. My only chance is that if they get the ticket and are able to cash it and escape the country, they just might leave word where I could be found. That’s never going to happen.
All of this is my fault, she thought. When I didn’t hear from Duncan, I didn’t worry for one single minute that something might have happened to him. Is he feeling that way about me right now? Probably not, Flower decided, as tears stung her eyes. He’s so good. Even if I do get out of here, I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again.
On the screen she saw a car pull into the driveway to the left of the Inn and take the first parking space. Three women got out and scurried toward the front door. People will be coming for tea, Flower thought. Some of them may have to park back here near the shed. If I can move this lawn chair and start slamming it against the wall when a car pulls into one of the spots near the shed, I might attract someone’s attention.
Slowly, tentatively, she began to lift herself and the chair upward from the floor, inching toward the wall. If this thing lands on its side, I’ll never be able to get up, she told herself. And they’ll know I was trying to escape. So what? Heaving her body, she was able to move slowly, painfully across the cement floor. More cars were pulling into the driveway. She reached the wall just as a car pulled up outside the shed. It sounded so close. She heard the doors open and close.
“I tell you, Tishie,” a woman said, her tone strident. “Sam Conklin misses me already. I knew he would. But I’m not picking up the phone for anyone. This is time for Rhoda.”
“You’re darn right,” Tishie said.
Instinctively, Flower tried to scream but only a whimper-like sound came from her mouth. That must be Conklin’s wife, she thought frantically. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. But maybe she can save me. With all her strength Flower hurled her body, tied to the lawn chair, against the wall.
“Rhoda, what was that noise?”
“I didn’t hear anything. Come on, Tishie, I’m getting wet.”
On the cement floor, Flower was struggling to right the chair and try again when she heard the door to Jed’s office slide open.
28
These are the Festival of Joy oven mitts and potholders we’ll be selling, starting this evening,” Muffy explained to Nora, Luke, and Willy, as they walked through the heavily stocked sales area of the church basement. “Then we have water colors of Branscombe scenes, painted by our Red Barn artists. Red Barn is a haven for seniors who love to paint, and we have two professional artists who volunteer their time to teach a couple of times a week.”
Nora examined the paintings carefully. “They’re lovely,” she said. “Several of them are really fine.”
Luke, whose taste in art was more Georgia O’Keefe’s style of painting, pretended to study the cozy scenes. Willy remembered that in the sixth grade, Sister Jane had labeled his “Keep Them Flying” poster of an airplane soaring past a flag as resembling “a flying fish wrapped in a rag.” She was one tough old bird, he thought. She’d have found fault with the Mona Lisa. I’ll buy the water color of the Branscombe Inn for Alvirah, he decided. She always likes a memento of places we’ve stayed.
Alvirah. Where the heck was she? And did she ever get any lunch? She’d been hungry enough on the plane to eat stale pretzels, then had dived into those chocolates he’d bought her at the convenience store. Last night, being hungry had landed her in the emergency room. Who knows what might happen if she got hungry today? He was tempted to call her cell phone, but he knew she’d get back to him when she was ready.
Luke had once suggested that Milton’s line, “They also serve who only stand and wait,” should be an inspiration to the two of them. Willy remembered he had asked, “Milton who?”
“Didn’t the ladies do a beautiful job transforming the basement into a winter wonderland?” Muffy was asking.
“It is so pretty,” Nora agreed. “I was raised in a small town in New Jersey, and it had the same feeling I’m experiencing here. Everyone enjoyed pitching in. In fact in our town, when a new parish was started, the men got together and renovated an old barn into a beautiful chapel.”
“And a-one, and a-two, and a-three,” a voice boomed from a side room.
Like a clap of thunder, a piano began to play, and a chorus of voices rang out, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly…”
“The choir’s tuning up for this evening,” Muffy explained. “Oh, here comes Steve.”
They all turned to look as the Mayor of Branscombe came down the stairs. Something’s up, Luke thought as he observed the forced smile on Steve’s face and his quick greetings to the Festival volunteers as he hurried across the room. “I just talked to Jack. Looks as if we have to get another search party organized,” he said tersely. “Duncan Graham’s girlfriend, Flower Bradley, came into town from California to surprise him this morning and is missing. We’re having copies of her picture made to post around town. Then, besides searching the woods, we’ll start ringing doorbells and making inquiries. She has to have been seen by someone.”
Nora studied the expression of profound worry on Steve’s face. “You haven’t
told us everything, Steve.”
He looked around. There was no one standing within earshot. “Duncan phoned Flower’s mother and found out something he never knew about her. When Flower turns twenty-five—which is next month—she comes into a trust fund that’s worth a fortune. Her great-grandfather was the founder of Corn Bitsy Cereals. Now her mother is afraid that someone may have followed Flower here and may be holding her for ransom, but she doesn’t want that to get out if at all possible.”
“How much is the trust fund worth?” Luke asked.
“One hundred million plus.”
“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,” the choir was singing. “Jingle all the way.”
29
Glenda’s ex-husband, Harvey, met up with a reporter and a camera crew from BUZ outside the house he had shared with Glenda for twelve years. He had more than willingly agreed to a reenactment of his clothes being left on the driveway in trash bags and then run over by a delivery truck. Glenda had not been invited to participate.
With the promise of a full and better-quality replacement of his clothes by the network, Harvey brought along the new wardrobe that he had acquired after a judge ruled that Glenda’s action had been malicious. As instructed, Harvey had stuffed the garments into two garbage bags.
“You think this weather is bad?” he asked as he got out of his van, dragging the bags. “This snow can’t compare with the way it rained that day. It was terrible. Strong gusty winds. Glenda claimed it wasn’t raining when she put the bags on the driveway, but give me a break. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize the heavens were about to open up.”
What a dope, Ben Moscarello, the reporter from BUZ was thinking as he shook Harvey’s hand. “Hello, Harvey. That must have been quite a day. Why don’t you leave the bags here on the driveway? We’ll get a shot of them with your clothes sticking out.”
“It was very insulting. Glenda had no right to treat my stuff that way,” Harvey said as he set the bags down, untwisted the ties, and started rummaging through the contents. With great care, he draped the sleeves of some of his favorite sweatshirts over the sides.
Dashing Through the Snow Page 12
