Never Buried: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (18 page)

Leigh ground her teeth.
Think, think, think
. What was police record was police record, but she didn't want her investigations into the 1949 deaths public. It was irrational, but now that they were so close, she didn't want anyone beating her team to the punch. Let him write another dry story with just the facts from the police. She would get her name in the paper some other way.

"You know as much as we do, then. The police aren't being much help." As soon as the words were out, she winced. If that got quoted, she'd be the main course at the next Polanski dinner table. "I suppose you could talk to Officer Polanski," she recanted. "She's been doing most of the investigative work and really is very helpful. But she's off duty today."

South dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand. "Polanski's at the station, but she wouldn't talk to me. The whole department's in chaos over some old person that wandered off. Could I speak with Mrs. March, please?"

"Mrs. March is having some health problems and can't be disturbed," Leigh answered distractedly, wondering why Maura would be at the station. Did she know the missing person?

"Did anyone else see or hear anything else last night? Neighbors?"

A chill swept up Leigh's spine. Mrs. Rhodis! "No," she said adamantly, "no one was home. None of the neighbors around here pay much attention—you know, they're all pretty old and everything. I'm sure they were already in bed." She uncrossed her fingers behind her back and smiled. "Sorry."

South smiled back, but something in his expression made Leigh doubt her acting skills. "Thanks," he said flatly. "I'll be talking with you again, I'm sure."

"Fabulous. Goodbye!" Leigh walked backwards into the house, then scurried over to a front window to see if South was leaving. Cara was already there, watching him.

"What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Nothing," Leigh answered. "But he knows most of it. And I have a bad feeling..."

South, after having briefly rummaged in the back seat of his car and shared a few words with the guard, began walking across the front lawn. Leigh stamped her foot.

"Damn! He
is
going to Mrs. Rhodis' house."

"So what?" Cara asked calmly. "It will all become public eventually. Maybe that will be a deterrent."

Since Leigh had no sound reasons for her actions, she decided not to defend them. She headed back out the door to intercept South, but didn't get far. Before she reached the bottom of the steps, Maura's car rolled up the Boulevard and pulled into the only available spot, the grass on the other side of the driveway. Leigh went to meet her, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Maura stepped out of the car. She looked dreadful. Her skin was pale and she was sweating too much, even for a hot August morning.

"What's wrong?" Leigh asked, shaky.

"It's Mom," came the weak reply. "She's gone."

Chapter 16

"What happened?" Leigh breathed.

"She wandered off sometime last night." Maura leaned back onto the hood of her car and rubbed her hands over her face. "When we got home from your parents' house, she said she was tired, and she went upstairs. I didn't hear any more from her, and I assumed she was asleep." She paused. "When the call came about the break-in, I told my aunts I was leaving, and I took off. Whenever I'm out, we open the connecting doors in the duplex so they can listen for her, but they didn't hear anything last night. This morning, she was gone."

So she could have been gone all night
. "Has this happened before?" Leigh asked softly.

"She's wandered off in the day a few times, but never at night. And—"her voice cracked slightly—"never for very long. She's never gone more than a few blocks before either somebody recognized her or she recognized a house."

They were no longer alone, Leigh noticed. Cara, South, and Mrs. Rhodis were clustered at her elbow, and the guard was listening too—albeit at a discreet distance. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Just tell us what we can do."

Maura glanced furtively at Cara, then turned back to Leigh. "If you could help spread the word, I'd appreciate it, but other than that, I want you to watch out for yourselves. You have your own problems to deal with." Leigh began to protest, but Maura raised a hand to stop her. "The guys on the force are being great. They're all out looking for Mom—most of them on their own time—and Vestal is organizing volunteers at the Episcopal church. We're bound to catch up with her soon."

"Is Vestal at the church now?" Mrs. Rhodis asked.

Maura nodded.

The older woman stepped over to the car and pressed her wrinkled hands over the policewoman's thick ones. "Don't you worry, hun. Mary Polanski's as tough as they come. We'll find her."

Maura smiled appreciatively, and Mrs. Rhodis headed off.

"Are you sure we can't do more?" Cara asked gently.

"You need to find that evidence, if that's what it is," Maura answered flatly. "The sooner the better." She stood up. "I need to get to St. John's. I'll keep in touch."

Leigh and Cara saw her off sadly. South had already left, without a word. The women walked back in the house and closed the door. There was work to be done.

***

By late morning it was evident that South's renewed interest was the tip of a media iceberg. He hadn't been the only reporter in the city to connect the break-in with the body, and once the story was out, it was way out. A decade-old body, the threat of arson, and a hint of mystery were excellent fuel for a dull news day, and every television crew in the city wanted visuals of the March house. Leigh did her best to fend off the masses while Cara was content to stay inside, making phone calls. The timing wasn't all bad—none of the news crews left without promising to run a picture of Mary Polanski on the next broadcast.

After the major locals had come and gone and Cara had asked every Avaloner she knew—and many she didn’t— to keep an eye out for Mary, lunchtime was declared. Leigh told the guards to shoo away any stragglers, turned off the phone ringer, and dug her answering machine out of a still-packed box. "We'll check it for important messages," Leigh explained as she plugged it in, "but we won't have to keep answering while we search the house."

After scarfing down several rather excellent pimento cheese sandwiches, the women got a second wind. Cara went to get her maps of the house, and Leigh went to make sure the answering machine was working. It was already blinking.

She pressed the message button and turned up the volume. The voice was all too familiar. "Leigh dear, this is your mother speaking. Are you there?" There was a pause. "You weren't in church this morning. I'll assume you've been helping Maura. We'll be looking for Mary ourselves this afternoon. I called to tell you that we heard about the fire. Lem has to work until five, but as soon as he's done, we're getting his pickup and we're coming over to get your things. Please be ready. Cara will be staying with your Aunt Lydie until Gil can come home. Your father agrees. See you at five thirty."

Leigh cursed. "Too bad," she said out loud, rewinding the tape with a flourish. "I guess it isn't working after all."

"Any messages?" Cara asked, maps in hand.

"No good news, sorry."

Cara sat down and spread out the plans. "We're going to settle this, Leigh," she said firmly. "Paul's little legacy must be either in the basement or the attic. As soon as we find what this person is after, we'll make it public, and that'll be the end. By the time Gil gets back, it'll be like nothing happened." She was lost in thought for a moment. "Although I dare say he won't be pleased with me when he finds out I've kept all this from him."

Leigh tended to agree, but she knew Gil couldn't stay mad at Cara for long. It was Leigh he would blame, probably forever.

"Well," Cara announced cheerfully, "I'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, we can't waste a moment."

It didn't take long to rule out the basement as a hiding place. The concrete-block walls were clammy, even in the middle of August, and conditions for long-term storage hardly seemed ideal. Furthermore, there were no obvious spaces unaccounted for.

The cousins walked back up the basement stairs, Leigh following Cara in case she slipped. "Why did Paul Fischer have to make this thing so damned hard to find, anyway?" Leigh griped. "Didn't he want it to be found?"

Cara reached the top of the stairs and turned around, her hand on her abdomen. "We've been over this before. He wanted to leave evidence that would be found only after his death. If he hadn't hid it, it would be too easy for Norman's killer to steal it."

"Maybe he already did."

"A negative attitude will not help!" Cara snapped.

Surprised at the change in tone, Leigh looked at her cousin's face closely. "You're having contractions again, aren't you?"

Cara looked away. "It's just the steps. Starts them off every time." She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water. "I've got to lie down for a while. Will you start mapping out the attic?"

Leigh sighed. If the contractions got any worse, she was going to call Gil herself, and that was that. In any event, she had a strong feeling that neither of them would be in the house much longer. Not that she planned on allowing herself to be dragged off to her parents' place. A tent city, maybe, but not her parents' place. She looked at her watch. She had about three hours before something hit the fan, one way or the other.

She was just about to start upstairs with the drawing supplies when the front doorbell rang again. Fairly certain the guards wouldn't let any of the press on the porch, Leigh went to answer it. It was Lydie.

"I told you my daughter lived here!" she said to the guard indignantly.

The younger guard that Leigh had admired out her window that morning merely smiled. "Just doing my job, ma'am," he said politely, then gave her a wink and turned away. She started. The only winks she got were from men who were either over 60 or capable of firing her. She watched his departing form with a new sense of appreciation.
Beats the detectives
.

"Leigh!" Lydie insisted, tapping on her arm. "I asked where Cara was."

"Oh, sorry," she answered, closing the door reluctantly. "She's in the family room."

Cara, who was relaxing on the couch, sat up a little when she saw her mother. "Is there any word on Mary?" she asked.

Lydie shook her head.

A strong wave of guilt spread over Leigh. She should have asked that question herself the moment Lydie walked in. Curse the guard and his wink! "How's Maura holding up?" she offered meekly.

"She's a strong girl," Lydie answered sadly, "but the more time that passes, the more we all worry. Mary wandered off on foot, and you'd think she couldn't get too far that way, especially with everyone looking. But, with no sign of her at all, I just wonder—"

"You think she's had some sort of accident?" Leigh asked tentatively, her heart pounding faster at the thought.

Lydie shook her head. "Who knows?" She sighed. "But what else could have happened? She didn't get on a bus—the PAT drivers that were around have all been questioned. Plus, she didn't take her purse." Lydie was quiet for a moment, then looked at her daughter. "But I didn't come over here just to talk about Mary. I know about what happened last night." She struggled to keep the anger out of her voice. "Why didn't you girls call us? Why did we have to find out about it through the grapevine?"

"I'm sorry, Mother." Cara answered, sounding tired. "I didn't see the point in worrying you in the middle of the night. We're fine, and with the guards here we're perfectly safe."

Lydie looked at her daughter with the shrewd appraisal only mothers can perfect. "The contractions are worse."

Cara didn't answer, but her eyes betrayed an anxiety neither woman could miss.

"What does Gil say about all this?" Lydie demanded. Cara looked away and took another drink. Lydie's eyes widened. "Oh, no, honey. Don't tell me you haven't told him!"

"I update him every day about the contractions," Cara said defensively. "It's just—"

"Just what?" her mother prompted.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to end up on bed rest. When I called the doctor this morning I got an ultimatum. If the contractions get regular, I'm down for the count."

"Well, that's it then," Lydie said decisively. "You're coming home where I can pamper you appropriately." She stood up. "I'll stay and help you pack some things. This snipe hunt is too stressful for you, and it's got to stop. Leigh and I can keep searching during the day if it makes you happy. But you've got to get away from this—physically and mentally—for the baby's sake."

Cara sat quietly, looking at her drink. Both women expected a protest, but none came.

***

Lydie began packing, and Leigh supposed she should, too. After all, she'd wanted to get out of the house for days; the only thing holding her back had been responsibility for Cara. So why didn't she want to leave now?