One Day Gone

by Luana Ehrlich

  “I’m more of an investigator than a detective.”

  Chapter 11

  Once I said goodbye to Detectives Ross and Springer, I decided I needed to get in touch with Nina and see what she’d come up with on Gus Montgomery, so I headed over to my hotel.

  I also wanted to read Nina’s dossier on Lizzie before I paid a visit to the Mizzou newspaper office and had a talk with the managing editor about the articles Lizzie was writing for the school paper.

  Before taking the elevator up to my room, I stopped by the hotel’s front desk and made some inquiries about the best restaurant in Columbia. The clerk said there were only two she would recommend: Flemings and Arturo’s Prime Steakhouse.

  I quickly eliminated Flemings since Paige and I’d eaten there the last time we were in Columbia together, and the moment we’d entered the restaurant, Paige had announced she hated the place because there were pictures of steak hanging on the wall—Paige was a vegan.

  Even though I offered to leave, she insisted on staying, which only made us both miserable.

  The hotel clerk offered to make reservations for me at either restaurant, so I had her make dinner reservations for two at Arturo’s Prime Steakhouse for seven o’clock.

  Once I arrived in my hotel room, I pulled out the business card Whitney had given me and punched in her number.

  It rang several times before she answered. “WEE Photography. This is Whitney.”

  “Hi, Whitney. This is Mylas Grey.”

  “Oh, hi, Mylas. I didn’t recognize your number. I need to add you to my list of contacts.”

  Strangely enough, my heart skipped a beat when I heard Whitney say my name would be in her contact list. It affected me so much I was afraid my voice sounded a little giddy when I started speaking.

  “I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to meet you for dinner until seven o’clock. Will that work for you?”

  She laughed. “For a second, I thought you were cancelling on me.”

  “If you need to cancel, I understand.”

  “No, I don’t need to cancel, and seven o’clock is perfect for me. Where shall we meet?”

  “I’ve made a reservation for us at Arturo’s Prime Steakhouse. Are you familiar with it?”

  “From what I’ve heard, it’s a really nice place.”

  “I guess I should have asked you if you liked steak before I made the reservation. We can always go somewhere else.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course, I like steak. Who doesn’t like steak?”

  I thought about telling her I happened to know someone who thought eating animals was barbaric, but I quickly dismissed the idea.

  “Okay, then,” I said. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  “Thanks again for asking me, Mylas. I’m really looking forward to it, and I’m putting your name in my contact list right now.”

  After I hung up, I realized I was smiling, and I finally decided that was the reason I’d asked Whitney to have dinner with me.

  She made me smile.

  * * * *

  When I opened my laptop to check my email, I had two messages from Nina with documents attached. One was the dossier on Lizzie, and the other was a summary of the background check she’d run on Gus.

  I read the information about Gus first.

  The report showed Gus was four years older than Lizzie and had been a B student at Rock Bridge High School where he’d played tight end on their football team. He’d grown up in a middle-class family; his father worked for the post office, and his mother was a librarian.

  Gus had recently purchased a residence on Taylor Avenue, which was one of the older neighborhoods in Columbia, and he had both a checking and savings account at First Federal.

  He also had a registered firearm, and although he’d never been in trouble with the police, he’d received several speeding tickets. In addition, there was a citation in his file for a noise violation when his neighbors had reported him for playing loud music on New Year’s Eve.

  Nina had included details about Montgomery Auto Service in her report, but the facts she’d uncovered only verified what I’d already observed about Gus’s business—it was doing well.

  The dossier on Lizzie was a little more interesting, although I already knew she had a substantial monthly allowance from the senator, was an A student in both high school and college, and had participated in her father’s campaigns since she was a little girl.

  What I didn’t know was that a gossip columnist had written a piece about her being involved with an older campaign staffer during the last campaign. She was eighteen then, and the staffer was twenty-five.

  I also didn’t know she helped organize a student protest against raising tuition costs during her sophomore year at MU.

  In the dossier, Nina had included some of Lizzie’s posts from her social media accounts. These posts were a combination of rants about social injustices and photographs of her and her college friends engaging in relatively harmless, but somewhat reckless behavior.

  Along with what I’d learned from Savannah and Gus, the dossier gave me a much better picture of Lizzie’s personality.

  She was obviously a gregarious person who didn’t mind expressing her opinions, who acted on her beliefs, and who sometimes went against conventional behavior.

  In other words, I didn’t find it completely out of character for her to leave town for a couple of days without telling anyone.

  * * * *

  When I’d finished reading the emails from Nina, I called her. Although she picked up immediately, she said she needed to put me on hold.

  Less than a minute later, she came back on the line and apologized.

  “I’m sorry, Mylas. I was in the middle of doing a remote connection to Lizzie’s computer in Columbia.”

  “Did the senator give you permission to access her computer?”

  “Yes. Nathan came by my office and delivered that message to me a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. At the moment, I’m mainly interested in any stories Lizzie’s working on for The Columbian; that’s a community newspaper managed by the faculty from MU’s School of Journalism and staffed by students. Personally, I think it’s possible Lizzie just left town to work on a story.”

  “So you want me to take a look at any files on her computer that could be connected to the newspaper?”

  “Yes, and also check out her email correspondence.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Did Nathan tell the staff about Lizzie’s disappearance this morning?”

  “Yes, but he ordered everyone to keep quiet about it. He doesn’t want the media to know anything about it yet.”

  “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  “Statistics show the sooner a public announcement is made, the sooner a missing person is located.”

  “I’m aware of that, and that’s why I’m not opposed to the media knowing. If that happened, I’d be back in Washington a lot sooner.”

  “How’s the investigation going on your end?”

  I told her about my meeting with Gus and how he’d impressed me as a hardworking guy who seemed to care about Lizzie.

  “While that may be true,” she said, “it doesn’t sound like he and Lizzie have a lot in common.”

  “They don’t, and one of the detectives assigned to her case seems to think Gus knows a lot more about Lizzie’s disappearance than he’s letting on.”

  “Speaking of detectives, Nathan told me Charlie Hayes will be coming by the office tomorrow.”

  “That soon, huh?”

  “If Charlie asks me what we’re working on, should I give him a copy of Judge Woodard’s casebook?”

  “Sure, why not? Charlie needs to get started, and the casebook is a good way for him to get his feet wet. Tell him if he has any questions he can call me.”

  “Where are you—”

  “Oh, and Nina, if Lizzie hasn’t shown up by then, you can brief him on what’s going on with her to
o.”

  “I’ll do that. Where are you headed next?”

  “I’m going over to the MU campus to talk to the editor of The Columbian. I’d like to hear what he has to say about Lizzie, and if he has any idea where she might be.”

  “So let me get this straight. You’re about to go talk to a media person about the fact the senator’s daughter is missing, even though Nathan told the staff not to leak this news to the media.”

  “You don’t suppose the paper’s editor would alert anyone in the media, do you?”

  “Oh, no. Not a chance.”

  * * * *

  I entered the MU campus on University Street, took a right on Hiten Street, and parked in a multi-level parking garage across the street from the MU Law Library.

  The School of Journalism was housed in four interconnected buildings a block away, and while I was walking over there, I got a call from Savannah. When I saw her name on my screen, I thought for sure she’d heard from Lizzie. “Hi, Savannah. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to let you know some detectives came over to the apartment today and let me know Lizzie is considered a missing person now. They said it was official.”

  “I’m assuming you heard from Detectives Ross and Springer. I saw them earlier today after they left your apartment.”

  “So you know it’s official now?”

  “Yes, they’ll be updating me about how the investigation is going.”

  “Will you still be doing your own investigation?”

  “I believe I told you I’ll just be assisting the police and sharing any information I discover with them.”

  “Okay, whatever. I wasn’t sure you wanted me to tell them about that paper you found in the trash can with Lizzie’s doodles on it, so I decided not to mention it to them. I hope that was okay with you.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be sure and mention it to them if I think it might be useful to the investigation. As long as I have you on the phone, could I ask you a question about Lizzie’s activities?”

  “Oh, sure, what would you like to know?”

  “Do you remember what Lizzie did last Saturday night?”

  She was quiet for a few minutes.

  “Let’s see. I know she didn’t go out with Gus because she told me he was at an auto show. I believe she went over to the Law Library. Yes, that’s it. She said she needed to interview a law professor for a story she was doing.”

  “She didn’t happen to mention his name, did she?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “I’m putting together a timeline of the days leading up to her disappearance, and I’d like to contact anyone she spent time with during the last couple of days.”

  “She was with Gus on Sunday.”

  “Yes, I’ve already spoken to Gus.”

  “He didn’t know anything about Lizzie, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t have any idea where she could be.”

  “That’s what he told the police too.”

  “Well, thanks, Savannah. You’ve been a big help to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Thanks for saying so. Feel free to call me anytime.”

  “You bet.”

  “Don’t forget I still owe you a cup of coffee.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  Although I’d learned a lot about Lizzie in the last twenty-four hours, I’d learned some things about Savannah too.

  I’d learned she was needy and insecure.

  Her issues reinforced what I’d learned about Lizzie.

  I’d learned Lizzie was drawn to people like Savannah, who were needy, as well as those who appeared self-confident, like Gus.

  It was a strange combination, and I was interested to see if these tendencies were reflected in the stories Lizzie did for the school newspaper.

  * * * *

  The administrative offices of The Columbian were located in Garnett Hall, one of four buildings that made up the School of Journalism on the Mizzou campus.

  The managing editor, Dr. Alex Richards, had his office on the third floor, and when I looked up the newspaper’s website on the internet, I discovered there were several ways of contacting him, including an online appointment scheduler.

  However, during an investigation, I preferred not to make appointments. In my experience, people tended to be a lot more forthcoming with their answers if they didn’t have time to anticipate the questions.

  Showing up unannounced was the way to go.

  Richards’ office was directly across from the elevator, and when I entered the glass doors and told the young lady seated at the reception desk I was a member of Senator Davis Allen’s staff and would like to speak to Dr. Richards, she seemed eager to help me.

  She looked down at her telephone console. “Dr. Richards is on the phone right now, but I’ll see if he can speak with you when he’s done. Please have a seat.”

  I sat down in the small reception area and picked up a current edition of The Columbian. I was surprised to see several national news stories, along with state, local, and campus news.

  When I turned to the editorial page, I noticed there were about two dozen student writers listed, and Lizzie Allen’s name was at the top of the alphabetical list.

  “Dr. Richards says he can see you now,” the receptionist said. “His office is down this hallway and around the corner.”

  I walked past her desk, down a short hallway, and turned the corner. After knocking on Dr. Richards’ door, I didn’t have to wait long before he opened it.

  “Come in. Come in,” he said, motioning me inside with a sweep of his hand. “I’m Alex Richards. My secretary tells me you’re a member of Senator Allen’s staff.”

  “That’s right. I’m Mylas Grey,” I said, handing him one of my cards. “I’m Senator Allen’s chief investigator on the Judiciary Committee.”

  His eyes widened. “I’m sure that’s an interesting job.”

  He walked by his cluttered desk and pointed to a small conference table. “Let’s have a seat over here at the conference table. The chairs are a lot more comfortable, and if you sit at the table, you won’t have to look at my messy desk.”

  Alex Richards was probably near retirement age, and even though his hair was mostly gray, he looked incredibly fit. As I studied his physical appearance, I realized his head was much larger than his body, which made me wonder if he had spent part of his career in broadcast journalism.

  “Is the senator here visiting his constituents, or did he come to see Lizzie?” Richards asked, as we sat down.

  “He’s in Washington right now. I’m here in Columbia on his behalf.”

  “Well, then, if I had to guess, I’d say you were here doing an investigation.”

  “In a manner of speaking, you’re right. Lizzie’s been missing from her apartment since Monday, and he sent me here to find her.”

  His smile faded. “Lizzie’s missing?”

  “I’m afraid so. When was the last time you saw her?”

  He stuttered around for a few seconds. “I . . . uh . . . can’t remember. Let’s see. I believe it’s been a week or so. No, on second thought, it’s probably been more like ten days. Wait a minute; I’ll look it up.”

  Richards got up and walked over to his desk where he picked up a notebook-size calendar. When he returned to the table, he sat down and began flipping through the pages.

  Finally, he stopped at a page and tapped on it with his forefinger.

  “It’s right here on my calendar. It was September 27, almost two weeks ago.”

  “Did Lizzie have an appointment with you that day?”

  He nodded. “She wanted to see me about an article she was interested in writing. Instead of giving my students assignments, I encourage them to go out and find stories for themselves. Once they’ve done that, they come in and discuss them with me.”

  “So you haven’t seen her for two weeks?”

  “No, not since the day she came in here to talk
about the piece she wanted to write.”

  “You gave her permission to write the article?”

  He nodded. “After we went over all the research she’d already done, I couldn’t turn her down, and since the story has a Mizzou connection, I understood why she thought it would be a good fit for the paper.”

  “What’s the article about?”

  “Actually, the story is about someone you probably know. She wanted to write an article on Cameron Woodard. The article will focus on his connection to the university.”

  “You mean Judge Cameron Woodard?”

  “That’s right. Judge Woodard used to be one of our professors at the Law College, and after hearing he’d been nominated by the President for a position on the Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals, she thought it would be an interesting story if she interviewed some of his former students.”

  “Yes, I know something about Judge Woodard. I’ve been looking into his background for several weeks now. If I remember correctly, it’s been ten years since he taught here at the Law College.”

  “That’s why she thought it would make an interesting article. One of Judge Woodard’s former law students is now a professor at the Law College, and she planned to approach the story from that angle.”

  “Did you help her set up an interview with the professor or did she do that herself?”

  “No, she did it all herself. Our student reporters have to set up their own interviews and do all their own research into a subject.”

  “Would you mind giving me the name of the professor she was planning to interview?”

  “No, of course not. His name is Wes Dawson. Shall I give him a call and find out if he’s seen Lizzie recently?”

  “No, I’d prefer to do it myself.”

  I asked Dr. Richards a few more questions, and then I asked him not to mention anything to anyone about Lizzie’s disappearance.

  I cited the senator’s desire to break the news to the media himself as the reason for my request.

  He smiled. “Those senators do love publicity, don’t they? They’ll do anything to get themselves in front of the cameras, even if it’s a news conference to announce their own daughter’s disappearance.”