Grace would be my first stop in the morning. It was interesting that she’d kept her married name after the divorce, but I didn’t think it meant anything to the case. She might have wanted to keep the same last name as her daughters.
While I’d been working, Dad and Evan had come home and soon after, Evan went to bed. I found Dad in the living room screwing a Christmas tree into a stand in front of the window.
“I wasn’t going to bother but Evan wanted a tree,” he said. “We’re going to decorate it tomorrow if you’re around. We’ll also be baking cookies.”
“Probably not, Dad. I’m working on this case. By the way, what does Evan want for Christmas?”
“His parents back together.” Dad gave a sideways frown. “Since that won’t happen, I got him some books and a telescope.” He stood back to look at the tree. “Straight enough. How about you pour us each a Scotch to help us unwind before bed?”
“I was about to suggest the same thing,” I said, “proving once again that great Sweet minds think alike.”
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, I cleared the snow off my car and dug out the end of the driveway before I got underway. Happily, the snow had stopped falling and the sky was satin blue instead of filled with grey clouds. Bright sunshine sparkled on the snow and reflected off the windshield. I found my sunglasses at the bottom of my bag and put them on before I backed my car onto the street.
I took the Queensway across the city to Vanier in the east end, where Shelley’s mother and sister lived. Albert and Shelley lived a bit further east in Orleans. Orleans and Vanier once had been cities on their own but now both were part of Ottawa. People who lived there had been mainly French-Canadian but the population was changing.
I drove through neighbourhoods until I reached Ethel Street. It was a poorer part of town with a mixture of low-rise apartment buildings and small, single-family homes. Grace and Rosemary Vincent lived in a run-down bungalow wedged in between two narrow houses with stucco walls and flat roofs. A plastic blow up Santa took up the entire front yard.
The curtain in the living room window lifted and dropped as I waded through the knee-deep snow to the front steps. The door opened before I had a chance to knock. An overweight girl who looked about twenty years old stood in front of me. She had wavy long red hair and held a baby doll tucked into the crook of her arm.
“Mom is out,” she said, her blue eyes openly studying me from head to toe.
“Do you expect her home soon?”
“Yes. Would you like to come in?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Follow me.”
She led me down the hallway, past the kitchen to a small room that had been set up as a nursery. More dolls were sleeping in carriages and lay lined up in a crib. The girl rocked the doll she was holding before she placed it on the change table.
“I was just putting my babies to bed,” she said. “You’re very pretty.”
“Why don’t I wait outside?” I asked, taking a step backwards. “I don’t want to disturb . . . anyone.”
The front door opened as I started down the hallway.
“Rosie, I’m home! Did someone come to the door?” The woman saw me and stopped.
“Rosemary let me in, Grace,” I said quickly. “I didn’t realize . . .”
Her anxious face relaxed. She had the same red hair as Rosemary but cropped short. She was slender and wore jeans and a grey hooded sweatshirt under her parka. “It’s okay, except I keep telling her never to open the door when I’m not here. She and I will have a chat about that later. Do I know you?”
“My name is Anna Sweet. I’m a private investigator. Albert hired me to try to find your daughter Shelley.” I pulled my ID out of my pocket and held it in front of me at eye level.
“You’d be the second one, then. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble.”
She led me into the kitchen and I sat at a small table while she checked on Rosemary. She returned a few minutes later and put on the kettle. “Rosie is too busy with her kids to join us,” she said, smiling. “She pretends that she’s running a daycare. You likely noticed that she’s much younger mentally than her age.”
“She seems like a lovely young woman.”
“Thank you.”
After Grace filled the teapot and got cups from the cupboard, she sat down across from me. “Now, what’s this about finding Shelley?”
“Albert hired me yesterday because he said he needs to know what happened to her. I’ve read the police report and met the lead investigator.”
“That would have been Officer Wilson. He told me that he believed she killed herself.”
“What do you think?”
“There was a time I would have said she’d never do something like that. She had a good job and was getting married. She was busy that year and we didn’t see much of her, but she called now and then. Usually on a break at work. She kept saying that she’d get over to see us.” Grace wiped a hand across her eyes. “But she never did. I guess I didn’t know what was going on with her at the end. Maybe it’s true that she took her own life. I just wish I knew why.”
“If she did, I’ll try to find out for you.” Grace poured the tea and I added milk. “How were Shelley and Albert getting along?” I asked.
“Good.” She paused. “At least she never said if they were having problems.”
“Have you stayed close to him?”
“We weren’t ever that close. He calls now and then to ask if I’ve heard from Shelley.”
“So he thinks she’s still alive?”
“I’m not sure if he does or if he can’t let go of the past.”
“You mentioned that I wasn’t the first PI that Albert hired.”
“That’s right. He hired a firm soon after Shelley went missing but they didn’t find her.”
I finished my tea without learning anything more than I’d read in the report. Rosemary was singing a lullaby to her dolls as I followed Grace down the hall to the front door.
“Rosie’s always so happy,” said Grace as she opened the door. “No matter how bad things are, she brings a smile to my face. Sometimes she even makes me forget that I’ve lost Shelley—at least for a little while.”
. . .
Since I was already in the east end, I drove to St. Laurent Boulevard to stop in at the Tim Hortons where Shelley had worked as assistant manager. It was nearing lunchtime but early enough that the place wasn’t too busy. I knew that in half an hour all the seats would be filled.
I was in luck. The manager, Rudy Brown, was on shift and agreed to sit with me for a few minutes to talk about Shelley. Rudy was in his mid-thirties, dark-haired with a bushy moustache and beard. His dark brown eyes studied me sadly after he set his cellphone on the table. “Not a day goes by we don’t miss her,” he said. “She was quiet but a good worker and had a way with the customers. She was also very smart about the financial part of the business. I relied on her to keep the books straight.”
“Can you tell me about the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“Sure. Her boyfriend was in Toronto on business so she worked late that night and then came in around ten the next morning, which was June 10. We were busy that day and I was surprised that she asked for the afternoon off. She said that she wanted to take advantage of her future husband being away.”
“Were those her exact words?”
“Yup. I thought she was going shopping or getting her hair done or something personal. I had no idea she meant to kill herself.” He looked down at his hands, which were folded on the table next to his phone.
“Is that what you think happened to her?”
“What else could it be?”
“Did she have any friends on staff or customers she talked to often?”
“Nobody she spent any time with outside work.” He thought for a moment. “The police and the other PI never asked about customers bef
ore. This old guy Joe used to have a coffee with her now and then. Kind of an odd dude. Long grey hair and always dressed in plaid shirts.”
“Do you have his last name?”
“No. He doesn’t come in as often anymore. He pays cash when he does. Maybe he gets the money panhandling.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card. “Next time you see him, would you call me right away?”
“Yeah, I could do that.”
“Maybe don’t tell him that you’ve contacted me.”
“A surprise attack?”
“You could put it that way. I’m worried that he might not want to talk if he gets advance notice.”
“I understand.”
Rudy’s cellphone lit up and beeped. He picked it up. “Sorry, one of my staff texting to let me know she’s going to be late. Tina Fellows. You might want to speak to her too, actually. She worked the same shifts as Shelley.”
“How late is she going to be?”
His phone beeped a second time. “That was Tina again. Looks like she won’t be in today at all. Her kid is sick and her sitter just cancelled.”
I stood. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow and will come by to speak with her if she’s working. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Joe will be dropping in for coffee, too.”
Rudy jumped to his feet. He raised his hand and called across the room for somebody to clear the leftover trays from a table. “You never know,” he said, turning back toward me. “But Shelley’s been gone for over a year so I guess there isn’t really any rush, is there?”
CHAPTER FOUR
I returned to the office in Hintonburg by late afternoon and found Jada sitting at her desk with her feet up. She held a full bottle of beer on her stomach.
“I was hoping you’d drop by,” she said.
I took a beer out of the little fridge and pulled over my chair to sit beside her. “And why was that?” I asked, putting my feet on the desk next to hers.
She clinked her bottle against mine. “To toast my new apartment. Henry and I will be moving in January 1.”
“That’s great.” I thought about the awful apartment they were in now and the high crime in their neighbourhood. There’d been two shootings since the summer. “You’re moving on up.”
“Or at least to a street without a drug dealer on every corner. So, I’m hoping you don’t mind if we skip Christmas dinner with you this year. Henry is in Montreal with some friends until Christmas Eve and then we need to pack and clean up enough to get our deposit back.”
“No problem.”
My Christmas party was now down to me—not that I planned to have one. There wouldn’t be many dishes to clean up afterwards in any event.
“Any progress with the Shelley Vincent case?” Jada asked, nudging my foot with hers.
“No. I’m talking with people from her life.” I swallowed a mouthful of beer and thought for a second. “She was secretive. Nobody appears to know what she was thinking or how she was feeling that summer.”
“Is that in the report?”
“Only if you read between the lines. I don’t know if she was involved with someone or something that got her killed.”
“So you don’t buy the suicide theory?”
“Not yet. I might in the end though, just like Jimmy did.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to track down her movements that last day and find her body.”
“Not the best outcome, but better than it sits now. Her mother and Albert will continue suffering until they have closure.”
“Yeah, all that waiting—hoping and dreading at the same time—can be a real killer.”
I nodded my agreement. “It’s always better to know, no matter how terrible the news.”
. . .
Evan and Dad were sitting down to eat when I arrived home. Dad had a plate warming for me in the oven and I joined them after pouring a glass of red wine from the bottle on the counter.
“Nothing fancy tonight,” Dad said. “Pork chops, homemade applesauce, and latkes.”
“Latkes are just fried potato pancakes,” said Evan with his mouth full.
“Good to know,” I said.
“How was your day?” Dad asked.
“Interesting.” I took a sip of wine. “Would you be available to do some research, Dad?” I asked. Dad’s previous work in the military made him first-rate at tracking down information.
“Of course. What’s your new case about?”
“A missing woman named Shelley Vincent. I have a short list of family and people in her life I need you to check out.”
“I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow.”
“She’s been gone for more than a year and might have,” I looked at Evan’s bowed head, “you know, done herself in. But her boyfriend and mother want to know either way.”
“Understood.”
After supper, Dad and I went over the list in my office while Evan watched television. Then the three of us put on our parkas and boots and went for a walk through our Alta Vista neighbourhood to look at Christmas lights. A gentle snow was falling and the night air was cold but not as frigid as it had been.
“Five days until Christmas,” Dad said.
“Three days until you fly to the sunny south,” I added.
“Maybe Aunt Anna and I could fly with you, Grandpa,” said Evan. “Then we could be together.”
Dad looked at me over Evan’s head. “Your mom will want you with her for Christmas,” he said, “and I’ll only be gone a week.”
“A week’s a long time.” Evan picked up a chunk of icy snow and heaved it at the stop sign.
“In the history of time,” said Dad, “one week is really just the blink of an eye. We’ll be back together before you even have time to miss me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I went for a jog as the sun was creeping up over the houses the next morning. Dad’s cooking had been turning me into a buttery lump until I started working with a trainer the month before. I’d toned up, lost ten pounds, and was feeling better than I had in months. Pie and biscuits were still in my meal plan but so were jogging and regular visits to the gym.
On my return home, I slowed to a brisk walk as I passed by Nick’s house, next door to my dad’s. Nick had big plans to fix up each room but had barely set foot inside after closing the deal. I saw tire marks in the driveway and wondered who’d been parked there recently. It had to be within the last day or the marks would be filled in with freshly fallen snow.
Curious.
Evan and Dad were still sleeping when I stepped inside the back door. I drank a glass of water and then showered and dressed for the day in jeans and a warm pullover. Afterward, I took a bowl of yoghurt and berries into my office and found the phone number for Shelley’s dad, Denis. It was nearly nine o’clock when I dialled the Vincent phone number in Oakville. Three rings later, a woman answered. She said that I’d only missed Denis by ten minutes.
“Could you please pass along my name and phone number to him and ask him to phone me this morning?” I asked, after explaining why I’d called.
“I’ll give you his work number,” she said. “It’s a general number at the Canadian Tire and you can have him paged. I’d wait half an hour, though, to be sure he’s arrived. He stops at the Starbucks for coffee on his way.”
So much for worrying about his privacy.
I brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchen and poured a cup while I waited. Evan was moving around upstairs and I heard him cross the floor to the bathroom. Dad turned on the radio in his bedroom and the muffled voice of a newscaster came through the ceiling. I returned to my office and tapped in the Canadian Tire phone number. A pre-recorded message walked me through five minutes of choices with key-punching before a real person came on the line. She immediately put me on hold, and store ads played in my ear for another ten minutes.
“Yeah, hello,” a man’s deep voice finally growled in my ear.
“Denis Vincent?” I asked.
“It is. D
o I know you?”
“No. My name is Anna Sweet and I’m a private investigator. Your daughter Shelley’s fiancé, Albert Romaine, hired me to try to find her.”
Silence.
“I’m wondering if you’ve heard from her this past year or have any idea about where she might be.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s going to drag this all up again?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s crystal clear that my daughter went off somewhere and killed herself. We don’t need to relive that time. Him least of all.”
“I’m sorry if this is upsetting. If she is dead, Albert wants me to find her body to give her a proper burial.”
“Well, finding her is a long shot after all these months. I’ll be amazed if you can pull it off, since the police and that other PI couldn’t. But don’t get me wrong. Nobody would be happier than me if you find out what happened to her.”
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Shelley, Mr. Vincent?”
“Not sure. She’d stopped calling after she met Albert. She used to come visit twice a year, but that stopped too, after a while.”
“Was she upset about something?”
“Not that I could think of. I guess she got busy with her job and new boyfriend . . . excuse me, fiancé.”
“If she decided to leave Ottawa, can you think of anywhere she might have gone?”
“Nope. I wish I had some bright idea or insight to share, but I don’t. Sorry.”
I thanked him for his time and hung up. I looked at the frost on the window as I thought about Shelley’s relationships. She’d been withdrawing from her family the year before she vanished. Had she been growing more and more depressed and nobody had noticed? Even Albert hadn’t seen the signs, unless he hadn’t wanted to see them.
My line of vision landed on my cellphone and I saw a message waiting sign. I picked up the phone and clicked on the screen. I counted three messages from Albert the evening before. And he’d phoned twice while I was on hold with Canadian Tire. He had to have something urgent to tell me. Worried, I hit his number. He answered on the first ring.
Missing Her Page 2
