Chapter 2

 

The first indication of spring came at sunset while I was taking Argus out for his nightly walk. Off in the distance I could hear the chirping of the spring peepers. The sound of those tree frogs was always the most welcome signal to the end of a long winter season. The damp, rather warm air smelled of earth and I knew that I could start digging in the garden.

            My search of Bryan’s computer had revealed some interesting findings. Several of the contacts in his email and social networking pages were from individuals located near Beaver Lake close to the New Brunswick border. Since this was a very remote and sparsely settled area of Maine, it was something that caught my eye. There were less than fifty full time residents of the township, and apparently Bryan was in touch with four of them. Other than that nothing else stuck out.

Bryan, like many young people, had his entire life on the computer. I went through his bank statement, his credit card accounts and his emails. Usually this was a difficult job, but Bryan had made it easy for me by bookmarking everything and storing his user names and passwords on his web browser.

Argus was nosing along the path enjoying the smells now that the ground was unfrozen. As we rounded the corner toward Eagle’s Nest, my cell phone went off.

“How’s business?” I recognized the voice of my cousin Monica Goulet.

“Actually, we have our first case,” I answered. “An old business contact of Tim’s hired us to find his missing son.”

“I’m sure there will be a story there,” she observed.

“I just hope we won’t be wasting his money.”

“I have a feeling you won’t be,” she said mysteriously.

“I’m sure you didn’t call just to check on me. What’s up?”

“I thought I’d give you a heads up.”

“What about?” I asked.

“I was just chatting with your mother in Florida. She sort of hinted that she and your father might be coming up here to visit.”

“What?” My parents had moved to Florida in 1989 and had never indicated any intention of coming back.

“It’s just a heads up, but I thought I better prepare you before she calls.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think.” I hung up the phone. Maybe Monica was just playing with me. As it turns out, she wasn’t.

 

……………………….

 

Argus was curled up under my office desk. I took Argus to work with me every day. I was going through Bryan Landry’s computer one more time, just to make sure I hadn’t overlooked something.

“Any luck,” asked Tim as he set a cup of coffee on my desk.

“Not really,” I answered. “It’s all pretty routine stuff. The only outstanding feature is that he has been in contact with four people in Beaver Lake.”

“Where is Beaver Lake?” asked Tim

“It’s in township thirty-two in Washington County near the Canadian border.”

“What’s the nature of the contacts?”

“Lots of inconsequential chit-chat, though some of it seems a bit cryptic.”

“Can you print them out?” asked Tim.

“Way ahead of you, big guy,” I said as I handed him the printed communications.

“Print out a map of the area and we’ll go over these in my office. I’ll ask Jessica to join us. She may be more familiar with computer talk than we are.”

I fired up the mapping software, focused in on the Beaver Lake area and printed out maps of the area. Argus followed me into Tim’s office and jumped into Jessica’s lap. We passed the printouts around.

“Anything jump out to anyone?” asked Tim.

“Not really,” observed Jessica. “Though the phrase ‘big deal’ seems to be repeated three times.”

“I think we need to call the father and ask if these names mean anything to him.”

“I can do that,” offered Jessica.

“There are a series of emails from someone with the screen name Bugsy, but Bryan never responded to any of them.”

“Any way to trace them?” asked Tim.

“No, they are from one of those free email web services. Almost anyone can create an anonymous email account,” I responded.

 

………………….

 

I hung up the phone and was staring off into space. Tim looked at me and noticed that I was still grasping the phone and seemed to be trying to crush it with my fingers.

“Something wrong?” asked Tim.

“That was my mother,” I answered. “She just informed me that she and my father are flying into Portland next week and could I please pick them up?”

“I haven’t seen them since high school,” observed Tim.

“They moved to Florida in the 1980’s and have never returned.” I said. “Until now.”

“We have a guest room.”

“Thankfully they’re staying at the Holiday Inn. They will be visiting with my aunts and uncles along the coast, but I have a feeling we will be expected to entertain them in the evenings.”

“How bad could that be?” asked Tim.

“Don’t even go there!” I warned.