Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) (8 page)

'Do you think Hendricks could have
had anything to do with it?'

'Not really. He was a disgusting
creep but it was the women he was after. You ask any of the women teachers who
worked there back then. They couldn't stand him. Apparently one of them saw him
in town one time wearing a T-shirt that said "When I want to hear your
opinion, I'll take my cock out of your mouth" on the front.'

Evan smothered a laugh and made a
mental note to ask Hendricks where he bought it. 'How did he manage to keep his
job?' he said.

'Beats me. Maybe he had friends in
high places, or he had some kind of hold over someone.'

'So you don't think he was trying to
point the finger at you to take the heat off him.'

'The heat was never on him, but no,
I don't think that was it. I'm sure he thought he was just doing his civic
duty, fine upstanding citizen that he is. What's sick is the obvious pleasure
he got from watching what it did to me.' Linda had said the exact same thing.
The Clements-Clayton team were solid in their opinion of Hendricks. Evan found
it ironic that the two people who had suffered most as a result of Hendricks'
statement, also agreed that he wasn't responsible.

'Okay, forgetting Hendricks, what do
you think happened?'

'I really don't know. I don't think
anything happened to Daniel on campus. I think he walked out the gate like
normal and Hendricks had his nose stuck in some stroke mag or something and
didn't see him go past. I don't think he made it home - something happened to
him on the way and it had nothing to do with his father. A random attack by
someone passing through most likely.'

'That doesn't give me a lot to go on
does it?'

Clements shook his head. 'I'm afraid
it doesn't, but it's only my opinion. I could be wrong.' He shrugged as if to
say
it has been known to happen
.

Evan was about to leave it at that
when he remembered what Clements had first said. 'You implied earlier you
thought
some people
had something to hide - what did you mean?'

Clements considered him carefully.
Again Evan got the feeling he was being assessed for his level of trustworthiness.
He put on his best open and approachable face. It worked; he passed the test.

Clements leaned in conspiratorially
again and dropped his voice to a whisper. He didn’t actually put his hand up to
his mouth, but Evan was sure he wanted to. He looked around to see who might be
listening in, but there was no-one. 'This didn't come from me, but I think
Faulkner was hiding something. Maybe he still is.’ He leaned back and held up
his hands. ‘I'm not saying he had anything to do with Daniel's disappearance,
but I always felt he was hiding something; some guilty secret. In fact, I got
the feeling long before any of this happened. That's not just me talking out of
spite, because of what he did to my life, either.'

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea
what it might be?’

‘No. It was just a feeling.’

'Did you ever say anything to
anyone?'

Clements looked at him like he
really was an idiot. 'Are you serious? Who would I talk to? Besides, who's
going to listen to a man accused of abducting a child? A de facto pervert.'

Evan thanked him for his time and
left him to his plants and fish and seething resentment. No doubt his wife
would bear the brunt of his anger and frustration when she returned from her
tupperware party or wherever else she'd been, but she looked like she could take
care of herself.

Evan came away with something very
different to what he expected when he went in. He'd been hoping Clements would
have some ideas about what might have happened, but he'd got nothing new that
he hadn't heard before. One thing that he was picking up loud and clear, was
how much everyone involved seemed to hate each other. And then the unexpected
revelation that Clements thought Faulkner was hiding something. He didn't know
what to make of that. Was there something and Clements had picked up on it, or
was he just being vindictive, despite what he'd said?

Admittedly, Faulkner hadn't wanted
to talk to him at first, but the case hadn't been his finest hour so why would
he? What kind of a secret could he have that might have any bearing on the
case? Besides, if Clements' intuition was right, it pre-dated the disappearances
anyway. Evan certainly didn't think Faulkner could have committed the crime,
but was he involved in some way beyond his police duties?

His thoughts were interrupted by his
cell phone. It was Guillory. 'That was quick'

He could feel Guillory smiling into
the phone. 'Well, we've got these new-fangled computer things here now, so I
asked one of the grown-ups to show me how to use them...'

'Grown-ups in the police department?
Whatever next?'

'Who knows - we might even offer you
a job.'

'Okay, okay. I'm assuming you found
something.'

He heard Guillory tapping away
two-finger style in the background.

'Okay, here we go. Don't go jumping
to any conclusions, but there was a woman called Barbara Schneider who went
missing about the same time Robbie Clayton disappeared. Reported missing by her
husband, Max, and never heard of again. Right sort of age for Clayton to be
fooling around with too.'

'So what happened?'

'Nothing happened. People go missing
everyday of the week. If it's an adult and there's nothing to suggest any foul
play, then what do we care if some woman gets sick of her husband and runs off
with some guy with a bigger dick.'

'Nobody made any connections?'

'That's just it, isn't it - you'd be
making
connections that probably weren't there. Fabricating them
yourself.'

'You know what I meant; did anybody
consider the possibility that these disappearances were connected?'

'What, like Robbie Clayton ran off
with Mrs Schneider and his little boy and they're all playing happy families in
California or wherever. And none of them ever showed up on the radar again.'

'It's possible. Was it even
considered at the time?'

'You'd have to ask Matt Faulkner
that - there's nothing on the files to suggest it.'

'Do you think he'd tell me?'

'Depends if you ask nicely. That’s
not something you’re very good at, is it?'

'I don’t know what you mean. You’ve
got to admit it's hard to ask anything without it looking like I'm judging him
with the benefit of hindsight.'

'I can't help you there. And before
you ask, no, I'm not going to ask for you. You’re a big boy now. Besides, he'd
know it came from you anyway.'

Evan wondered if there was anything
else he could get out of Guillory. 'Do you know if the husband still lives
around here?'

'No idea. Anything else? Do you want
me to pick up your groceries for you as well? I mean, it’s not like I’ve got
anything else to do.’

‘What about the address where he
used to live?’

‘Yeah, I can give you that, seeing
as it’s in the phone book. Just don’t go in heavy handed, okay.’

‘Like Ryder you mean.’

‘Do you want the address or not?’

Evan took down the address. Guillory
promised to let him know if he found out anything else and ended the call. At
least it felt like Guillory was on his side. He was responsible for setting it
all in motion after all. Evan felt that gave him some leeway in what he could
ask him. Whether he'd ever get to the point of being able to sound him out
about Faulkner was another matter.

He was starting to build quite a
list of people he wanted to talk to and none of them were likely to be easy
conversations. He thought he would start with Max Schneider who was likely to
be the easiest. With him Evan was only going to be digging up painful memories.
Hendricks and his next conversation with Faulkner were going to be a lot more
difficult.

He also hoped he was going to be
able to eliminate the Clayton-Schneider liaison line of enquiry; he didn't want
to have to take that back to Linda Clayton. It would completely destroy what
she had left of her life and he didn't need any more of that kind of thing on
his conscience. This new direction was supposed to give him a chance to do some
good and help people.

If it was still him, Max Schneider
lived in a small farmhouse a couple of miles out of town. At one time it must
have owned all the land surrounding it but that had all been sold off long ago.
There was an old pickup in the yard and the whole place had a run-down feel to
it. Evan could understand any woman wanting to run off with another man to get
away, bigger dick or not. Or she might just be buried under all the junk in the
back yard.

A man in his late fifties answered
the door. He was short and wiry with a completely bald head that shone as if it
had just been polished. He had the large, bulbous nose of a heavy drinker, and
peered up at Evan from under some of the bushiest eyebrows Evan had ever seen.
If this was Schneider he had clearly been a lot older than his wife who would
only be early forties if she was still alive. Did that make it any more likely
that she ran off with a younger man? If only you could rely on all those
preconceived ideas, life would be so easy.

'Max Schneider?' Evan asked.

'Yes, that's me.' He had a faint
German accident. He hadn't been born anywhere around here, that was for sure.
It was only Evan's good manners that stopped him stepping backwards as a strong
smell of garlic on Schneider's breath caught him full in the face.
That
would make anyone run away
, he thought.

Schneider looked pleased to see him.
'Come in, come in. This way please,' he said, leading Evan down the narrow
hallway to the kitchen, which had that peculiar smell of over-cooked cabbage like
old people's houses do. Evan was surprised at Schneider's welcome. He knew for
sure that Linda hadn't phoned him and told him to expect a visit, but the man
was obviously expecting him.

'There it is; piece of Japanese
crap,' he said pointing to the washing machine. 'I knew I should have bought
German.'

He looked round at Evan, his eyes
narrowing. 'Where are your tools?'

Evan almost laughed out loud. 'I'm
sorry Mr Schneider, there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not here to fix your
washing machine.'

'No? Then why are you here?'

'I'd like to ask you a few
questions.'

Schneider looked crestfallen
although Evan couldn't really see why. From the look and faintly sour smell of
his clothes, he didn't look like a man who did his laundry on a daily basis.
Maybe the machine had been out of service for a month or two. 'Are you sure you
can't fix this?' he asked plaintively.

Evan ignored his plea. 'I'm working
for Linda Clayton; looking into the disappearance of her son and husband.'

Evan watched Schneider carefully for
any signs of recognition but the name meant nothing to him, that much was
clear. Either that or he was a lot better than Evan at concealing his emotions.

'Linda Claxton? Never heard of her.
Why would I be able to help you?'

Either Schneider hadn't heard any of
the rumors or he was being deliberately obtuse. His mood had taken a marked
turn for the worse. Evan felt like saying
Ve haf vays of making you talk...

'It's Clayton, not Claxton, and they
disappeared at the same time your wife did.'

Schneider looked at him as if he was
crazy. 'My wife? What wife? I've never been married in my life. What are you
talking about, you stupid boy?'

The way that he peered up through
his eyebrows was quite disconcerting. Evan thought there was a very real
possibility that the cantankerous old bastard was just plain nuts. The other
alternative was that he had blocked the tragedy from his mind.

'Ten years ago you reported your
wife missing to the police.'

'Pah! How could I do that when I
never had a wife?' he almost shouted, giving Evan another generous dose of
second-hand garlic.

'So you never reported anyone
missing?'

Schneider's eyes positively bulged
as if someone was throttling him. 'Did I say that? Did I? I said I never
reported my wife missing. Don't you listen to anything?'

Evan decided to try a different
tack. 'Have you ever reported
anyone
missing to the police?'

'Ja, of course. My sister - Barbara.
Who do you think? Are you here to find my sister?'

Evan was tempted to have his own fun
and say no, he was there to fix the washing machine. He wondered if there was
any scientific evidence that linked excess garlic sausage consumption to early
senility.

'That's right Mr Schneider. I'm here
to investigate Barbara's disappearance.' There was every chance that the old fool
would think he'd only reported it last week. If Evan didn't mention Linda
Clayton's name again he doubted Schneider would remember it.

'Good. About time too.' He nodded
vigorously, happy that he was finally about to get some answers, even if he
wasn't going to get his washing machine fixed. If he was given the choice, Evan
reckoned Schneider would opt to have his washing machine fixed.

'Can you tell me what happened?'

‘It started to make this funny
noise.’ He made a strange sound in his throat. ‘No, more like this.’ He made
another noise that he was equally unhappy with. ‘No, that’s not it either…’

‘I meant what happened to your
sister.’
You stupid old fool

'She disappeared.' He made another
attempt at the noise. He was determined to get it right.

Evan waited but that seemed to be
all Schneider had to say about his sister. He thought about calling Tom
Jacobson; he had a lot of experience pulling teeth.

'Do you have any ideas about what
might have happened to her?'

Schneider's eyes bulged again. 'Why
would I call you if I knew that? I don’t know what is wrong with you young
people these days.'

Evan knew exactly what was wrong
with this old person and was having serious doubts about the reliability of
anything he might say. He decided to ask what should be a fairly
straightforward question.

'Do you have a photograph? Of
Barbara,' he added quickly, to avoid Schneider running off to fetch a
photograph of his washing machine, or the Führer, or whatever else was dear to
his heart.

Schneider nodded and walked over and
picked up a framed photograph sitting on the dresser. Evan took it and looked
at a picture of a good looking blond smiling back at him. The police report was
obviously wrong – there was no way on earth this woman could have been married
to the lunatic currently standing in front of him, looking up expectantly, as
if Evan was about to pull Barbara out of his pocket, now that he had performed
his side of the bargain and supplied a photograph.

'She was so beautiful,' Schneider
said. ‘Such nice’ – he cupped his hands and squeezed the air as if fondling a
pair of breasts – ‘too.’ Evan looked down at the photograph again but it was
only a head and shoulders shot. Looking at the photograph had a profound effect
on Schneider. It was as if he'd been drunk and now he was suddenly stone cold
sober. He'd regained control of his faculties for the moment. Evan wondered how
long it would last.

'She knew it too. I had to beat the
men off with a stick.’ He swiped the air with an imaginary switch making Evan
wonder if it was only the men who got beaten. ‘But she wasn't too picky. Our
parents were very strict with her and when they died she just let loose. Out
every night. So many different men. She could have settled down with any of
them but she was having too much fun playing the field. And then she
disappeared. Bitch.'

The last word was said so quietly
Evan wasn’t sure he heard it properly.
Had he just called her a bitch?

‘Do you think she ran off with one
of them?'

Schneider looked at him sadly and
shook his head. 'That's what I want to believe, but it's not true. I was a lot
older than her but we still got on too well for her to run off like that and
never make any kind of contact. I know I tried to keep her under control, but
we never had a fight over it or anything like that.'

He sat back down at the kitchen
table and rested his head in his hands. Evan looked down at the shining bald
dome and wondered what it must be like to be bald. There were a number of
strange sticky patches that looked like glue dotted around his head. Evan
choked back a laugh as he realized Schneider normally had a toupée glued to his
head. Presumably he didn’t wear it in the house so that he felt the benefit of
it when he went out. Perhaps that was what he wanted to wash so desperately.

'I didn't make a habit of rummaging
through her underwear drawer or anything like that' - he looked up sharply to
make sure that Evan wasn't smirking - 'but it didn't look to me like any of her
clothes were missing.'

The comment made Evan think of his
own situation. When Sarah had disappeared he'd done the same thing, of course.
Anyone would. And he'd realized that he couldn't say for sure if any of her
clothes were missing or not. The discovery had shocked and dismayed him. What
else had he been oblivious to? Had the reason for her disappearance been under
his nose the whole time? He didn’t know if it made him stupid or insensitive.
Probably both.

'Are you listening to me?' Schneider
barked, jumping out of his seat again and snapping Evan out of it.

'Yes, I'm listening,’ Evan said
curtly. He was getting fed up with Schneider’s rudeness. ‘So you think
something must have happened to her.'

'It's got to be one or the other.
Either she hated my guts and I never knew it, or she's dead.'

After only ten minutes in his company,
the first option seemed a distinct possibility, but it was the second one that made
Evan stop and think. The word hung in the air. He realized it was the first
time in the whole case that anyone had come out and said it. Up until then
everyone had simply
disappeared
. Now it was out in the open, it brought
it home to him that there was very little chance of a happy ending. The best he
could hope to provide was the relief that comes from finally
knowing
.

'It's not too difficult to imagine,
is it?' Schneider said. 'Some married man gets her in the family way...' He stretched
out his hands and gripped an imaginary pair of hips, pulled them towards him
and thrust his pelvis back and forward, grunting with an obscene leer on his
face.

It was all Evan could do to keep a
straight face. The guy should be in an asylum. 'Was there anyone in particular
that she was seeing?'

Schneider stopped his gyrations, thought
for a moment and then nodded to himself. 'Actually I think there was, just
before she disappeared, but I don't know who it was.'

'Did you tell this to the Police
back then?'

At first Evan thought he hadn't
heard. He was staring absently at the table top. Then he gave a small shrug and
sat back down again. 'I can't remember,' he said. 'I'd have told them if they
asked. Why wouldn't I?’ He grunted as if someone had kicked him. ‘Not that it
would have made any difference, the useless imbeciles.'

Evan hoped he didn't sound too much
like Schneider when he talked about Sarah's disappearance.

'I think perhaps I talked to someone
called Fukner,' Schneider said.

Evan coughed into his hand to hide a
laugh. He couldn’t take much more of this nutty old man. He wasn't sure whether
it was his accent, or whether Schneider was just being offensive. 'You mean
Faulkner?'

'That's what I said, wasn't it. Are
you deaf too?'

Schneider was starting to lapse back
into his quarrelsome self. Time was running out. Evan wasn't going to get much
more out of him. 'What did he say?' he asked.

'He said he couldn't waste his time
chasing after some low-rent whore.'

Evan was glad that he didn't chew
gum because he would have choked on it. 'He actually said that?'

'Well, no. Not exactly,' Schneider
admitted, 'but that's what he was thinking.'

'How do you know that?'

Schneider looked at him like he was dealing
with a retard. 'I could see it in his eyes. He looked at me like I was some
stupid old man making it all up.'

Evan couldn't see how that made his
sister a whore, but he definitely agreed with the stupid old man assessment.
'Whatever could have given him that impression?' he said under his breath.

He was still holding the framed
photograph and set it down carefully on the table. Schneider looked at it. Suddenly
he back-handed it violently, smashing the glass with the force of the blow and sending
it flying across the room. A small trickle of blood appeared on the back of his
hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the cut. Evan went over to
where the picture lay to pick up the pieces.