Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  “If you know anything about those remains, you need to tell me,” she said.

  “I don’t, but if I do, I will.”

  “Fine.” She again abruptly ended the call.

  I was shaking my head when Willie came into the office.

  “I’m leaving now,” she announced.

  “Okay, have fun. Tell Darcy hi. And remember, my office is off-limits.”

  “Of course.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Love you,” I said.

  “Me, too.”

  With that, she was gone, just the scent of her shampoo lingering in the air. Right at that moment, I found myself thinking that she could decorate any room in the condo however she wanted to – even my office – as long as it meant she never left me. Then I smiled, brushed that thought aside, and was about to start searching on Marsha Madison when I heard pounding on the front door.

  “Hold on,” I said as I got up and hurried into the living room. “Did you forget your keys?”

  The knocking continued, more urgent.

  “All right, all right.”

  I opened the door, expecting Willie, but Gina Smith was standing on the landing.

  “We need to talk,” she said breathlessly.

  Chapter Four

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “Willie’s talked about where you live. I didn’t have the exact address, but thought I could find it. I was driving down the street and was about to call for your address, but then I saw Willie outside, and she pointed out your place.”

  “I see,” I murmured. I wasn’t accustomed to seeing clients in my home, but I stepped aside to let her in.

  She brushed past me. “I’m so sorry about what happened at Starbucks!” she said as she began pacing in the living room. “I can’t believe my dad showed up like that.”

  “You said he doesn’t normally come downtown.”

  She nodded. “He’s never talked about having business anywhere near the mall. He doesn’t even like going downtown. He hates dealing with the traffic and parking.”

  “You think he followed you there?”

  “No,” she said, a little too quickly. Then she stopped pacing and thought about it. “Oh, man, would he do that?”

  “He’s suspicious of you, er, us,” I said. “Like he thinks we’re having an affair, or –”

  “I would think he knows me better than that,” she interrupted.

  “Then why did he show up unannounced?”

  “He’s worried because I threatened to go to someone for help.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I would think, but you’d know better than I would.”

  “How did he know where I was going?” she asked, more to herself than me.

  I shrugged. She thought about that.

  “All I did this morning was take Ethan to school,” she went on. “I guess Dad could’ve been watching the house.” She shivered. “That doesn’t seem like him.”

  “What happened after you left Starbucks?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he follow you here?” And find out where I live, I thought but didn’t say.

  “I don’t think so.” She grimaced. “You really think he would follow me? I figured it would be better to talk to you right away. I thought about calling, but I really wanted to continue our conversation in person, so I came here.”

  “You weren’t watching to see if he followed you?” I pressed the issue.

  She bit her lip. “I walked him to his car and he drove off. My car was the next block down. I left downtown and came straight here. I guess he could’ve tailed me. Oh, did I mess things up?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Tell me what you two talked about after I left.”

  “He asked again who you were.”

  I smiled to try to ease her tension. “I’m a doctor.”

  She snorted. “He didn’t believe us, even though I kept to that story. Then he grilled me with question after question.”

  “Like what?”

  “How did I meet you, how long have we known each other, how long you’ve been a doctor, which hospital you work at, did we meet for coffee often or was this the first time, where do you live.”

  All questions that could help her dad check up on me. And if he did, he’d find that I wasn’t a doctor. But why would he care, unless he was worried about his daughter having an affair, or about her recent probing into his past?

  I flashed back to John Smith glancing at my wedding ring. “Did he ask if I was married?”

  She shook her head. “That didn’t come up. Why?”

  “He noticed my ring.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he’s worried about me having an affair, but didn’t want to say.”

  “I wondered that. But if he thinks I’m someone you’re talking to about his past, he might want to stop me from helping.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with him, he’s acting so weird.” She frowned. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I’m looking for my mother.” Then her face went white at her words. “I didn’t mean … he wouldn’t really kill me.” She was questioning that.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “But he is concerned about something, and until we know what, I’d be careful around him.”

  “Okay.” She trembled slightly, then gestured at the couch. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water.”

  I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water for her.

  “Thanks,” she said when I returned and handed it to her. She took a big gulp and then looked thoughtfully around the room. “This place is cute, although it is kind of plain.”

  “Willie’s talked to you about redecorating?”

  She smiled. “A time or two.” Then she grew serious. “I don’t know why Dad’s so concerned about keeping his past a secret.”

  I sat down on the other end of the couch. “What was your childhood like?”

  Her expression softened. “It was good. It was just the two of us, and he doted on me. Now that I’m a single parent myself, I can appreciate how hard it must’ve been for him, raising me and working full time. When I was little, he took me to the park a lot, and swimming at a local pool. He was always there for every activity, every game or school performance. The only time I ever saw him get upset was when I asked about my mother, and even though I was just curious, I learned it was better to let it go. And for the longest time, I did. But now…”

  “Did you stay with a babysitter when he was at work?”

  She shook her head. “I went to daycare until I started school. Then I’d stay with a neighbor after school, until Dad got home from work.”

  I thought about the look on her face when her dad showed up at the Starbucks. “Does your dad have a temper?”

  “Not at all. He’s a pretty mellow guy.”

  “He’s never tried to hurt you?”

  “Are you kidding?” She was indignant. “He was always good to me.”

  “Okay.” I backed off from that. “Did he ever date anyone?”

  She shook her head. “Never.”

  “Why not?”

  She thought for a second. “I don’t know. He was busy raising me, and once I went off to college, he seemed to like working and being at home. He’s not big on going out and doing things. He likes being a granddad and spending time with Ethan. He goes to Ethan’s baseball games and activities, just like he did with me, and he sometimes babysits for me. Otherwise, he putters in the garden and golfs.”

  “Did you take vacations growing up?”

  “Sure. We took road trips, visited national parks and tourist places.”

  “Did you ever leave the country?”

  “No, why?”

  “Could you have afforded to?”

  “I suppose. We weren’t rich, but I’m sure there would’ve been enough mone
y to go overseas.”

  “He might not have wanted to if he has a new identity.” I pointed at her. “And if you do.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He would’ve been worried about being caught.”

  “Just a thought.” I held up a cautionary hand. “But we still have no idea if your dad is who he says he is, or not.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Could he really have faked his identity?”

  I shrugged. “Now that I’ve met him, I’d like to talk to him, and get my own sense of what he’s like.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I’ll continue the doctor ruse, and if he thinks we’re having an affair, it would give him the opportunity to bring up his suspicions.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “You can’t talk to him.”

  I crossed my arms. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “No.”

  I sighed. “What about any friends? Someone who might know if your dad’s hiding something.”

  “How would you make sure they didn’t talk to Dad about you?”

  I pursed my lips, thinking. “I don’t know yet, but I can figure something out.”

  “He doesn’t associate with a lot of people, but he does have a friend, Greg Martinez. They golf together.”

  “Where?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. When Dad talks golf, I tune him out.”

  “Does your dad belong to a country club?”

  “That’s not his cup of tea.”

  “Where does Greg live?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I can find out, if you need me to.”

  “Try,” I said. “But I won’t talk to anyone before I talk to you.”

  “Good.”

  “Who else does he golf with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did your dad work?”

  “Trident Accountants. But you can’t go there and ask about him,” she said firmly. “Not right now.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll focus on your mother for now.”

  “Have you found anything on her?”

  “I’ve barely gotten started.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “I did talk to the police about the remains found in that field.”

  “And?”

  “It was an adult female who was about 5-feet, 6-inches tall, and she was about 25 to 40. They think the body could’ve been put there more than ten years ago. They have no idea who it was, but they suspect foul play.”

  Her brown eyes grew wide. “What if it’s my mother?”

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.” But she wasn’t convinced. She took another gulp of water and stood up. “I’ll let you get to work. Let me know how it goes, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I saw her to the door and stood on the landing as she walked downstairs and disappeared around the corner. A moment later, I saw her walking down the sidewalk. She got into an older model Honda Accord and drove off. I watched to see if anyone followed, but didn’t notice any other cars drive after her. I waited a minute longer, and when I still didn’t see any cars, I went back inside.

  Chapter Five

  It was now lunch time. I fixed a sandwich, grabbed a Coke from the fridge, and went back into my office. I cranked the greatest hits of The Psychedelic Furs, one of my favorite bands, ate part of my sandwich, and then got back on the internet.

  I hadn’t been able to find anything on John Smith, but I hoped I would have more luck with Marsha Madison. If not, and if Cal was unsuccessful in his search, my case would start and end very quickly.

  With that in mind, I typed “Marsha Jenny Madison, Kansas” into Google with quotes, and no results came up. So I took out the quotes and searched again. As Gina had said, there were four Marsha Madisons in the state. I checked each one. Two had been born before 1930, and one was deceased, like she’d said. The final Marsha was born in 1947 and lived in Kansas City. That was the right age to be Gina’s mother. I spent a few minutes finding this Marsha’s phone number, turned down the music, and then called her.

  After a few rings, a soft voice said, “Hello?”

  “Is this Marsha Madison?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hi, my name is Fenton Hardy,” I said, using the fictional father of the famous Hardy Boys, a mystery series I loved reading when I was a kid. “I hope you have a minute to help me. I’m calling from Denver. I’m doing some genealogy research, and I’m looking into my maternal grandmother’s side of the family, and I’m related to some Madisons in Kansas, although I’m having trouble finding out much about them. I found your name online, and I’m wondering if you’re related to Joe Madison who lives, or lived, in Topeka.”

  It was total fabrication, just a lead-in to discussing who she was. And it worked.

  “Oh, genealogy, that’s interesting,” she said. “I’ve never had time to do much of that myself.”

  “Yes, it’s fascinating.” Most people like to talk, especially about themselves, and Marsha was no exception.

  “Joe Madison?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know that name,” she said. “Madison is my husband’s name, and although I know some about his family, I’m not sure I’m the best person for you to talk to.”

  “I see. What’s your husband’s name?”

  “Bill. Well, William is his full name.”

  “Let me check my notes on the family tree I have.” I paused. “Do you have children?”

  “Two boys. Billy and Troy. Billy’s 48, and Troy’s 46. They’re both married. Billy lives here in KC, and Troy is in Utah.”

  I did some quick calculations. That meant both boys were born in the late sixties. And Gina was born in 1985. A baby born later in Marsha’s life that she gave up for adoption?

  “Okay, great,” I said. “Just out of curiosity, have you ever been to Russell?”

  “Russell, Kansas? Just passing through when we’ve driven to visit Troy. There’s not much there.”

  “Please forgive an impertinent question, but you didn’t give birth to a daughter in Russell in 1985?”

  “Of course not.”

  The reply was quick, with nothing but a bit of outrage in the tone. Not like someone who might’ve had something to hide.

  “You said your name was Fenton?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll have someone on my husband’s side of the family call you?”

  She was through talking to me.

  “Sure.” I rattled off a fake number, thanked her and ended the call before she could turn the tables and start grilling me.

  I sat back, turned on the music again, and sipped some Coke. Unless Marsha Madison was lying, and I sensed she wasn’t, she was not Gina’s mother. I’d been wrong before, but for the moment, I was going to move on.

  I finished my sandwich and began a search of “Marsha,” first with “Madisen,” still filtering on Kansas, but came up with nothing in a straight Google search. I tried some genealogy sites next, but found no Marsha Madisens in Kansas. I then tried some specialized sites that did a more comprehensive background search. It took quite a while to chug through information, only to return nothing useful.

  I got up, stretched for a few minutes, and then sat back down. This was definitely not the fun part of an investigation. Then I tried other spellings of the last name. Still nothing.

  “Now trying ‘Marcia.’ Oh boy, more searching,” I said out loud, the sarcasm echoing throughout the office.

  I typed “Marcia Madison,” and found a Marcia Madison Able, but then found that she was too young to be Gina’s mother. I couldn’t find anything with the other spellings of Madison, but I wondered if I was missing something. I glanced at the computer clock. After five. I’d been searching online for over four hours. No wonder I was bleary-eyed and cranky. I rubbed my hands over my face, shut off the music, and picked up the phone.

  “What
’s up, O Great Detective?” Cal asked a moment later.

  “That sounds better,” I said. “More natural.”

  “How’d your search go?”

  “It’s been tedious, and I didn’t find anything, and I’m worried I might have missed something. And I’ve got more to do, and I’m losing patience.” I knew I sounded crabby, but I didn’t care.

  He laughed. “Yeah, the internet can be great, but it can also be a nightmare if you’re trying to find something really specific.”

  I explained what I’d done so far. “Can you check all the different spellings of Marsha Madison, and see if I missed one?” I asked when I finished. “If Gina was born in 1985, that means Marsha could have been born anytime from 1935 to 1970, give or take a few years, depending on whether she was a teenager or a middle-aged woman when she gave birth.”

  “And this is in Kansas?”

  “Start there, but then how about checking the U.S.?”

  “The entire United States? That could take a long while.”

  “Okay, how about states surrounding Kansas?”

  “That narrows it down a bit.” He started typing. “I’ll call when I get some results.”

  “Thanks. Next time I’m up there, I’ll bring pizza and beer.”

  “As long as I can stay in my home, I kind of enjoy this. It’s a break from the usual.”

  Only Cal would think staring at a monitor for hours was fun. To say he was a homebody was an understatement. He’s like Sandra Bullock’s character in The Net. He rarely goes out, orders everything online – including clothing and food – and has little social life. And he loves it that way.

  “Hey there.”

  I heard Willie’s voice call out, and then the front door shut. A moment later, Willie came into the office and saw me on the phone.

  “Still working?” she mouthed.

  “It’s just Cal,” I said as I put the phone on speaker.

  He grunted. “Just Cal?”

  “Hi, Cal,” Willie said.

  “How are you?” he asked her.

  His voice immediately grew cheerier. He loved Willie, and the feeling was mutual. I was lucky in that my best friend and my wife got along famously.

  “Do you think you two can break away?” she asked. “Reed promised to take me to dinner.”