by S F Bose
“It means I eat selected foods that are easy to make and eat. Food isn’t really important to me, so I like to make eating as simple as I can. Lately, potatoes have appealed to me, so I eat them for all my meals.
“So mashed potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day?” I asked, staring back at him.
Sam shrugged. “More like a baked potato for breakfast, french fries for lunch, and a big plate of mashed potatoes for dinner. I also have a salad and bread with the mashed potatoes.”
“Doesn’t that get boring?”
He shook his head. “Not usually. When it does, I move on to something else.”
I sipped my soda. “Like what?”
Sam nibbled at his lower lip. “Well, scrambled eggs, oatmeal raisin power bars, salmon patties, pancakes, veggie burgers, egg salad sandwiches. Things like that.”
I stared at him and thought about eating like that. “So you’re not a vegetarian. Have you always eaten that way?”
He thought for a second. “Pretty much. I think I was nine when I discovered if I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for every meal, I had much more time to play. That started it. I just saw eating as a waste of time. Drove my mother crazy.”
“Interesting,” I replied. “Do you have brothers and sisters who eat the same way?”
Sam shook his head. “No, they’re all normal. I can tell you’d never be a selective eater.” He was smiling slightly.
“Never in a million years. I love to eat just about everything,” I replied and laughed.
“That’s good. If everyone was the same, it would be a boring world.” He sat back and sipped a little more tea. “So back to business. I’d suggest waiting until Josh gets back tonight and we can officially clear that case off our plates. Then Friday morning we can revisit the missing ring. We need to brainstorm more ideas. How’s that sound?”
“Friday? Why not tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving,” he reminded me and smiled. “If I don’t show up for dinner at home, my folks, brothers, and sisters will kill me.”
“Of course you have to go home! I guess I lost track of the days for a minute. Friday is good. Where’s home?”
“Oak Lawn. It’s a suburb southwest of Chicago,” he replied. Chicago was about a two and a half hour drive if you obeyed the speed limit. I felt another tickle of worry. Sam might not be back at the B&B until ten a.m. or so on Friday. We were running out of time. However, I didn’t want to share my worry with him.
“It’s okay, we’ll get it done,” he said. Was he a mind reader? I looked him in the eyes and nodded.
After a pause, I leaned forward. “Frankly, I’m not sure where to go with the ring. Taking a short break might help. Just don’t mention it to Grandma. The way she’s been acting lately, I’m not sure how she’d react.”
Slapping his gray tweed Irish cap on his head, Sam winked. “My lips are sealed.”
***
At 5:00 p.m., guests had gathered in the B&B dining room. Sam and I sat at a table that gave us a good view of the room. After our earlier meal, neither one of us were hungry. I sipped a cup of caramel cappuccino and Sam drank a mug of hot water.
Tony, Susan, and Megan DeMarco sat at a larger table in the middle of the room. Although they ate their entrees, they looked up expectantly at every noise. Dante and Shelly Cloutier and their daughters sat two tables away, chatting, and eating dinner salads. To our right, Ray and Marie Wescott sipped wine and waited for their meal. There were only a few diners from Mystic Grove, which was normal the night before a big holiday.
At 5:30 p.m., I felt a quiver of concern. “Where is he?” I muttered. I expected Josh to come in through the main dining room door, so I kept my eyes on that door.
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know.” He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and flipped through it. When he found what he was looking for, he made a call on his cellphone. After several beats, he grimaced and ended the call.
“No answer, and his voicemail is full.”
“Dan English gave you his phone number, right? Call him,” I suggested. Nodding, Sam flipped through his notebook again. When he found Dan’s number, he dialed it on his cellphone and waited.
“Dan, this is Sam Nolan. I’m trying to track down Josh DeMarco. Could you give me a call when you get this message? Thanks.” He hung up and gave me a worried look.
“They may have gone out to eat and talk about whatever their business is. There are a number of plausible scenarios I can think of,” I said, and he sighed.
At 6:00 p.m., Tony walked over to our table. He bent at the waist and put his hands flat on the table.
He glowered at us and asked in a low voice, “What’s going on? Where’s Josh?”
“We’re not sure, Tony. Something must have delayed him. We called his cellphone but there was no answer and his voicemail is still full,” Sam replied. He looked at Tony with a steady gaze.
“What about the guy he went to see?” Tony asked.
“We called him and left a voicemail. Give it a little more time, Tony. Josh looked good when we saw him. He said he’d be here for dinner,” Sam replied. Tony snorted and straightened up.
“I’ve had it. If Josh isn’t back here tonight, I’m calling the cops. I‘m not going to wait any longer,” he said.
“We understand,” Sam replied. Tony gave us both a hard look and walked back to his table.
“How do you feel about driving over to Dan English’s house again?” I asked.
“Let’s do it,” he agreed.
Chapter 17
We got our coats from the kitchen. As I bundled up, I told Grace where we were going and asked her to call me if Josh DeMarco showed up. She agreed but looked worried.
Sam and I left through the back kitchen door and hurried down the west hallway all the way to the B&B front door. Once we were outside, we jogged through the cold night to the parking lot and jumped into his Jeep.
Sam started the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot. After we turned left on Farm Road, he punched the accelerator. I groaned when I felt the heat through the vents and felt the heated seats. We flew down empty country roads toward Dan English’s house. We didn’t talk on the short ride.
When we reached the house, Sam killed the headlights before he turned the Jeep up the driveway and rolled slowly past the woods. Sam stopped at the clearing and turned off the engine. The farmhouse was lit up on the first floor and dark on the second.
“Josh’s Durango and the Malibu are gone,” Sam said quietly. I looked over and saw that Sam was right. However, there was an older white Mustang parked in front of the garage.
“The Mustang must be Nick’s. It wasn’t there when we arrived at the house earlier, but it was there when we left,” I replied.
“Yeah. Let’s be careful here,” said Sam. “Have your pistol ready.”
“Okay,” I agreed and got out of the car. I closed the door quietly. The Kahr pistol was in my right jeans pocket. When I walked to the front of the Jeep, Sam stood listening intently. It was freezing cold.
We walked to the house and stopped to listen again. It was deadly quiet. I didn’t hear voices or a TV. Sam went up the stairs first and moved to the right of the door. I followed and positioned myself on the left. Behind the screen door, the front door stood halfway open.
Sam reached out and pushed the doorbell several times. The chimes were loud. We waited and didn’t hear any sounds from inside. Sam pounded on the screen door.
“Dan English! It’s Sam Nolan. I was here earlier today. Can we talk?” he shouted.
I strained so hard to hear something that my ears hurt. I locked eyes with Sam and shook my head. He nodded, drew his Glock from his coat pocket, and I did the same. Then Sam tried the screen door. It was unlocked and opened from right to left. Sam pushed the screen door partially open. I reached forward and grabbed the frame of the door, pulling it all the way open.
“Dan? Nick? Are you home? It’s Sam Nolan,” he called. Whe
n he entered the house, I followed him and stopped to let my eyes adjust to the light inside.
We worked our way separately through all of the rooms on the first floor. Most of them were neat and clean. But in the kitchen, I found drops and smears of blood on the tile floor by a small kitchen island. Some of the blood had dried.
I looked in the sink and found a kitchen knife. When I leaned over the sink and looked more closely, I saw more dried blood on the knife handle and blade. I checked the trash container and found crumpled paper towels stained with blood. On the kitchen island, there was a sterile gauze bandage roll, scissors, first aid tape, and a tube of Neosporin.
“Sam,” I called, and he materialized so quickly I flinched. “Somebody got cut. The knife is in the sink.”
Sam looked at the blood on the floor, the knife, and everything on the kitchen island. Then I showed him the bloody paper towels in the trash.
“It’s not really a lot of blood,” he said, but he sounded worried.
“Let’s check upstairs.” I said. This time I led the way.
“Dan? Nick? It’s Liz Bean and Sam Nolan,” I called as we climbed the stairs to the second floor. We checked the bedrooms, closets, and bathrooms. They were all empty.
“There’s nobody up here,” Sam said, and we returned downstairs. “There’s one more place I want to check. I found the door to the basement earlier. I want you to stay upstairs by the door while I go downstairs.” I knew he didn’t want us to both be in the basement and have someone lock us in.
“Okay,” I agreed. I followed him to the basement door and waited there while he went downstairs. I scanned left and right and held the Glock with a two-handed grip. When Sam came back upstairs, he looked unhappy.
“There’s nobody downstairs,” he said.
I exhaled. “I feel like we just missed them.”
“Yeah. It looks like they left in a hurry.”
“You think they went to the hospital? Maybe the cut was worse than the amount of blood indicates,” I suggested.
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. He reached into his pants pocket and slid out his cellphone. I watched him scroll through his contacts and call one of the numbers.
“Ed? It’s Sam. How’s it going?” He listened for a beat and chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Listen, are you at the hospital right now?” He paused to listen to the reply.
Nervous, I started to pace. Sam spoke again, “That’s great. I need a favor. I’m trying to track down three guys. Two of them are local. Dan English and his son, Nick. The third guy is a tourist named Josh DeMarco. Could you check and see if any of them came in through the ER today? It would have been for a knife cut or stabbing… Sure…Thanks.”
Sam looked at me and said, “A doctor friend of mine. He’s checking for us.” I nodded and leaned against the wall.
After several minutes, Sam said, “Yes?” He frowned as he listened to his friend. “Okay, can you tell me which one?”
I was dying of curiosity and started to pace again.
“What time was this?” Sam asked. I stopped to look at him. “Yeah, I understand. Thanks, buddy, you’ve been a big help. I owe you.”
The doctor must have said something funny because Sam laughed in response. “You got it. We never had this conversation. Talk to you soon.” Sam disconnected and looked at me.
“Spill!” I said when he hesitated.
Sam looked at me. “There was only so much Ed could say because of HIPAA privacy rules. I don’t want to get him in trouble, so we can’t share this information with anyone.”
“Okay, understood,” I agreed.
“Dan and Nick walked into the ER a couple of hours ago. Nick had a badly cut finger. He was treated, and they left the hospital over an hour ago.”
“Josh wasn’t with them?” I asked.
“No. Ed asked about a third man. The attending physician knew both Dan and Nick. He told Ed that he hadn’t seen anyone else with them,” Sam replied.
“Maybe Josh waited outside?”
“It’s possible,” Sam agreed.
“Did he say how Nick cut his finger?”
Sam sighed. “Ed said they told the attending physician it was an accident in the kitchen.”
“Do you believe that?”
Sam shrugged. “At this point, who knows? Let’s go check the garage.”
We left the house but shut the front door. Then we went over to look at the white Mustang. The hood of the car was cold.
Walking around the side of the garage, we found a door that was ajar. We both unholstered our guns and Sam turned on his cellphone flashlight. He went through the door first with me on his heels. The garage was empty.
We moved on to the mini barn, I looked at the double doors and metal roof. It was the newest building on the property. Sam tested the door handle and it was unlocked too. He turned on his flashlight and we entered with our guns drawn.
It was a woodshop. I found the light switch and flipped it on. After a quick search, we didn’t find Josh or anything that looked suspicious. Sam holstered his gun and whistled.
“He’s got everything: table saw, band saw, planer, router, joiner,” Sam said. I thought I heard envy in his voice. There was a big work table, hand tools hanging on pegboard, and stacks of different wood. On one side of the workshop, Dan had several new coffee tables he was building.
I holstered my gun. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go back to the B&B.” I felt tired and dejected. We trudged back to the Jeep.
Chapter 18
On the drive back, I used Sam’s cellphone to call Josh and Dan English again. Josh didn’t answer, and his voicemail was still full. I sent him a text message and he didn’t reply. Dan’s phone clicked over to voicemail and I left a message.
“No luck,” I said and handed the cellphone back to Sam. He took it and slid it into his coat pocket.
“So Josh is still ducking calls. If he’s not with Dan and Nick English, where the heck is he?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know. Grace hasn’t called, so he’s not back at the B&B.”
Sam glanced over at me. “I keep thinking back about how nervous Josh was when we were at Dan’s house.”
I nodded. “Nick seemed wary too. They didn’t seem like two guys who had just met. Maybe Josh and Nick did know each other when they were in the Marines.”
Sam thought about that. “Then why not just admit it?”
“I don’t know. I’m starting to think our opinion of Dan was colored by what Millie and Tillie said. I went into the meeting thinking of Dan and Nick as good people. I also thought Josh DeMarco was another good guy who served honorably in the military and was dealing with PTSD.”
“Where are you going with this, Liz?”
I paused, trying to organize my thoughts. “What if they aren’t good guys? What if Josh, Dan, and Nick are either planning or involved in something shady?”
I looked at Sam’s profile in the darkness. He took a deep breath. “Is that what your spidey sense is telling you?”
I gave a short laugh. “My spidey sense blows hot and cold lately. It was great when I was out East, but since I’ve been home…”
“Well they do have business of some sort with each other, at least Josh and Dan do. They said as much. I will say I was bothered by how they stonewalled us on the nature of their business. If it was something innocent, why not just tell is? And nobody answering their phone is discouraging too. But, I’m still not convinced they’re shady.”
I thought about that. I didn’t want to think that Josh, Dan, and Nick were involved in something illegal either. However, Josh, in particular, acted like a man who was hiding something.
“Well, hopefully Josh will show up and explain everything,” I said finally. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Yeah I’m not sure what’s going on either,” Sam agreed.
We drove in silence for several miles. I was even more nervous about the B&B. This afternoon, I thought the Josh DeMarco disappearance was resolved. Now
I wasn’t so sure. Even worse, we had made zero progress on Marie’s missing ring and the clock was ticking on that deadline.
I finally asked the question that was killing me. “Do you think we can still solve both the Josh DeMarco and missing ring cases in time?”
Sam didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I’m not sure. I thought Josh would be back at the B&B by 5:00. I was wrong about that and now I can’t even guess where he is. I also don’t know where the ring might be. Not having met Mrs. Wescott, in a way, I’m flying blind on that one.”
I bristled. “So the short answer is you don’t think we can solve both cases in time.”
“Again, I’m not sure. Cases can turn on a dime, so we’ll see,” he replied.
I sat back and felt a dark cloud descend over me. It was clear that Grandma had placed her faith and the future of the B&B in the wrong hands. I had failed. Josh DeMarco had disappeared again, and I had the sinking feeling he might be involved in something illegal. I even wondered if he had stolen Marie’s ring and tried to shift the blame to Dante Cloutier. It was clear to me that, barring a miracle, we wouldn’t be able to solve the Josh DeMarco and Marie Wescott missing ring mysteries in time.
I shivered and hugged myself. Sam reached over and pressed some touchscreen controls on the center console. I felt a stronger flow of heat pour from the vents. It wouldn’t help. I wasn’t cold from the winter weather. It was the fear of failing my family that chilled my blood and bones.
“I think Josh and Dan may have played us,” I said quietly.
Sam sighed. “It’s always possible,” he agreed.
Chapter 19
We entered the B&B through the mudroom door, walked up the west hallway, and into the back of the kitchen. Millie and Tillie were loading the dishwasher and glasswasher. Grace and Dad were still cooking for Thanksgiving. They all turned to look at us when we came in. I shook my head and they all looked disappointed.
