Authors: Wendy Potocki
Foster and Todd chuckled.
“You’re quick alright. Too bad you can’t get an order right,” Foster tweaked. Liking to get her back sometimes, humor eased the tension that was spreading throughout the community. While some didn’t understand its importance, Brent had taught him that lesson. Insisting that the community took its clues from the authorities, it meant that if a police officer was nervous, they would be, too.
“Oh, nice!” Bonnie retaliated. “Well, aren’t I just going to have to wait until your food gets nice and cold before I serve it! I’ll let it sit up there on the counter all night if I have to!”
“Give it to him, Bonnie. The audacity in thinking he could start up with you,” Todd joked.
“Well, okay. I see whose side you’re on. Guess I don’t have those big, dark eyes that make you go all goo-goo.”
Foster’s teasing hitting the mark, Todd blushed. Knowing that he couldn’t hide how he was feeling, it was written all over his face.
“You leave him alone! She’s a keeper!” Bonnie encouraged.
“Yeah, but that’s the problem. With his ugly mug, he’d have to keep her locked up. Lots of good-looking guys around town,” Foster replied.
“You talkin’ about yourself again?” Bonnie shot.
“You know I’m taken,” he answered.
“Yeah, many times from what I hear,” she fired back, the booming laughs of both Todd and Foster added to hers.
“I hate smart aleck waitresses. Why don’t you just get me #3—with a large Coke, if you don’t mind,” Foster said, the smile still plastered on his face.
“I’ll have the turkey club with the …”
“Uncola thing. Got it. I’ll see you boys in a minute.”
“By the way, what did Cummings want?” Foster asked as soon as Bonnie was out of earshot.
“To break my chops. He informed me that I’m being relegated to a much lesser role in this case. Thinks I may be too ‘
personally’
involved. His words, not mine.”
“That’s crazy,” Foster said stretching out his legs under the table. “As if you’d hide evidence or anything. I mean, you’re sweet on that girl. Anyone can see that, but you’d never do anything to screw-up an investigation.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence. Guess not everyone thinks that way.”
“Evidently.”
“It’s a shame, too. I wanted to go back and speak to Midge Moore.”
“Why the hell would you do something like that?”
“Because what she says doesn’t add up,” he said taking several swallows of water.
“But that can’t have anything to do with what’s going on?”
Todd’s glass hit the top of the table with a dull thud. His head pivoted quickly, his eyes meeting Foster’s.
“No?”
“Oh, hell, you can’t think …”
“I don’t know what I think. All I know is that what she said doesn’t match up with the facts, that’s all. It could be nothing. Or …”
“Or what?” Bonnie asked, putting down the plates in front of the hungry men.
Todd grabbed the napkin, spreading it across his lap. He wasted no time in digging in.
“Or a nosy waitress might get handcuffed,” Foster answered for him.
“Who told you I liked that sort of thing?” Foster and Todd laughing, she was a pistol alright. “Come on, what the hell is going on?” she pressed, the two men going silent. “I heard you say something about Midge. Do you think what’s happening has anything to do with Barbara?”
“Do you?” Foster asked, tossing back the hot potato.
“Yes, I do.”
The answer surprised both of them. Not taking the bite he was about to, Todd put down his sandwich, casting a sidelong glance at Foster.
“I don’t know,” she continued. “It all seems strange. I mean, it can’t be the same guy making these little girls disappear, but maybe they’re … related to him or something.”
“Like his great-grandmother?” Foster sniped.
“Be serious!” she admonished. “All I know is that something weird is going on.”
Foster wiped at his mouth snickering.
“We all know that!”
“Thank you, Mr. Snarky!” she reprimanded.
Whether it was her nervousness or just curiosity, Todd decided to dig.
“What do you mean, Bonnie?” he asked, resuming the serious business of wolfing down his supper.
She shook her body, as if throwing off water.
“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like all these people I haven’t seen in a while … I’m suddenly seeing.”
“And …?” Todd prodded, confused about what point she was making.
“Yeah, so what?” Foster added. “I run into old schoolmates all the time. Hardly gives me the Willies.”
“Well, it does me! There was Mrs. Jenkins, my old school teacher, and Mr. Pallack, he was the janitor at my old church, and oh!” she exclaimed shaking her finger at Foster, “there was Eddie! You must have seen him!”
“Eddie?” Foster said, blankly staring ahead.
“Yeah, Eddie! The Shmooz! You remember, the guy the police kept picking up for vagrancy a few years back.”
Todd nodded, “Oh, yeah, I do remember him. Was wondering where he went to.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but he’s dead,” Foster stated flatly.
“How can he be dead if we saw him?” Putting her hands on her hips, she prepared for a fight.
“Hey, Bonnie! I asked for a refill about a year ago!” a male voice called out.
“Oh, put a pickle in it! Can’t you see I’m havin’ a conversation, you Neanderthal!” she yelled, quickly turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “Trolls! They can wait.”
“
We?
I didn’t see anything,” Foster replied.
“What?”
“How do you know he’s dead, Foster?” Todd interrupted, taking a few deep gulps of his soda.
“It’s what I heard.”
“Oh, well, that does it then!” Bonnie replied exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “I see him, but you ‘
heard’
something. Certainly trumps a visual sighting. And besides, the point is that you should have seen him!”
“Why should Foster have seen him?”
“Yeah, why should I? I’d like to know, too.”
“Because he was sitting right there the night you and … Larabee were in here.”
Her voice dropped when she mentioned the officer that was still MIA.
“What?” Foster said, taking a bite of the roast beef dripping with homemade gravy. “No, he wasn’t! Only person in here that night was Shankton. Came in for coffee and sat right over there.”
“Mr. Shankton?” Bonnie asked, her eyes going wide. “You’re crazier than a June bed bug. It was Eddie!” she insisted.
“You’re the one that’s wrong. I’m the trained professional, remember? And you’re …”
“… a lowly waitress? Listen, here, Mr. Big Shot Policeman, I never forgot anyone that leaves me a tip. Never!” she snapped, storming away.
“I guess she told you,” Todd remarked. Looking up he saw Mulligan settling his bill. Getting his coat off the hook, he was on his way.
* * * * *
With a backward glance at Cavanaugh, a strong blast of frigid air hit Mulligan flush in his naked face. The meal had been good, but being placed within listening distance of Cavanaugh’s conversation had ultimately made him uncomfortable. Wanting to leap into the middle of what he was saying, he’d kept quiet. Proving himself to be a typical police officer, he was dismissing the truth in lieu of what he wanted to think. He was way off base about Barbara’s mother. She’d never lie. While there were problems between the two, even Babs extolled her mother’s virtue when it came to honesty. It was what made it so easy for Babs to manipulate her.
Drawing in his coat more tightly around him, he pushed his hands into the tattered silk lining of his favorite leather coat. While not meant to be worn in this type of weather, it was eternally in style—the way only 50’s vintage clothing could be. Bill Haley had been reputed to have owned it, but who knew? People told all sorts of wild stories when it came to jacking up prices. Still, in his heart-of-hearts, he chose to believe it was true.
Battling back to his temporary digs, his visit to Holybrook was not for naught. Although things had worked out markedly differently than he’d imagined, he’d gotten that closure he yearned for. Babs was okay. Happy, fat and married, she’d probably settled down with the man she’d truly loved. Knowing it wasn’t him hurt like hell, but he’d always only wanted the best for her. If the best meant being with someone else, so be it.
“God bless you, Babs,” he muttered as he hurried along on a path that led him straight to his lodging. It wasn’t much, but it served as home.
Squinting through the flurry of snowflakes, a woman turned onto the sidewalk ahead of him. Not seeing what store she’d come out of, she had a figure fine enough to catch his eye. Something about the way she moved was oddly familiar. Icy particles drifting down from the heavens and settling on his sparse lashes, her taut legs flashed along with regularity. The end of a pony tail poking out from under the knit edge of her ski cap, he picked up his pace to gain ground. Something so haunting about the form—it was Babs. He was sure of it. Trying hard to dissuade himself, it had to be a fantasy brought on by longing. His pounding heart not accepting what his eyes were seeing, it ached to speak to the girl that had left him behind.
“Babs!” he yelled.
The girl in the blue jacket turned around, but just by a fraction. A portion of her face visible, clear smooth skin was discerned. Her rounded cheek firm, the corner of that sensual mouth was downturned. More certain than ever that it was Babs, why else would she be rushing away as if being chased by a ghost?
A crowd of children exited a card store, clogging the walkway. Making it impossible to advance, he subdued his desire to aggressively push them aside. The kids were young and didn’t know about lost loves.
Gently weaving in between, he broke free in time to see Babs sprinting across the street. Running for a bus that was whooshing to a halt, the door opened, gobbling her up. Galloping after her, his age and out of shape conditioning played into his lethargic chase. Asking his legs to do the impossible, he arrived in time for a close-up of the vehicle rushing past him.
“Babs,” he gasped, bending over. Placing his hands on his knees, he tried collecting his breath. Spent and heartbroken, he wasn’t about to give up. The numbers of the plate sparking an idea, he loped off into the night—the chase on.
His legs faltering, his quadriceps burned from the lack of oxygen. It had been a long time since he’d engaged in strenuous activity. Compounding the difficulty, the boots he was wearing were made for dancing and not for snow. With no traction on the smooth soles, he slipped and slid his way to the parking lot of his motel. His frozen fingers fumbling for his keys, the frigid temperature of the upholstery raked through his minimalist clothing. His body shaking, his hands trembled as he started his car. The cold was eating him alive.
His car sprang to life, his headlights snapping to attention like a pair of startled eyes. Gunning the engine, the wheels squealed like someone’s last breath. Tearing onto the street, the heater began spewing the beginnings of warmth at the feet soaked through by moisture. He’d have to dry out his socks when he got back. Hopefully, it would be after he was provided long sought answers from his true love’s ruby lips.
Having spent enough time in town, he knew the bus route. It was the one that led to Velofsky’s. Easily catching up with it, he kept pace like a stealthy stalker. Stalker? The idea was absurd—he was the victim. He’d been the one jerked around like a marionette … or is that only what stalkers rationalized?
Watching the puffs of exhaust, there were so many reasons for her not to want to face him, but she was going to have to. He was so done making excuses for her. She’d left him waiting at that motel outside town. He’d waited all night for her to come, but there was no Barbara, no phone call, no nothing—except that long, torturous evening spent alone. It was time for her to own up to what she’d done. While he didn’t want to change her life, he had to find out why she’d broken his heart.
Keeping track of the passengers that departed, all the stops in town were completed. The last one at the outskirts of town remained. Trying to figure out why Barbara was traveling into the middle of nowhere, he ruled out that she could be headed to the school. She wasn’t a dancer, and evening was much too late to be wandering around in the dark. Then there were those woods. It made no sense for her to be going near there. No one in their right mind would be going into that forest alone.
Alone
! That was it! She was going to meet someone, but why was she doing it at this time of night? Perhaps she was cheating on the man she’d left him for. If so, his heart went out to the cuckolded husband. He hated to admit it, but he could well imagine her engaging in this kind of betrayal. If she could do it to him, she was capable of doing it to anyone.
Out on the open highway, the vehicle raced at a clip. Its windshield wipers batting away, the smattering of snow drove into the glass. He stepped on the gas, his car’s tires digging in. Gripping the wheel, the heat was now shooting out and thawing his frozen extremities. His thighs still tensed, it wasn’t from the cold, only the gravity of the situation. Certain that he could press them into further action, they wouldn’t fail him. He was old, but not dead. There was no way he’d miss this opportunity.