“So, you didn’t check any of the references provided on the application form?”
“Yes, Captain Hennessey, that’s right,” the voice on the other end of the phone responded. “We needed someone right away and he had the experience so we hired him.”
“Haven’t been disappointed either. He’s been a good employee,” the personnel director, Mr. Cane, added somewhat defensively.
Marvin rubbed his forehead, trying to prevent the headache that was forming from becoming any worse. “So, you wouldn’t know if he mentioned this Claire Dungarven to you personally. Or, do you ever overhear him talking about her?
“Nope, can’t say I do. Of course, he isn’t in the office much. I don’t get many opportunities to talk to him. Plus,” he added, “He’s not much of a talker, pretty much a loner, doesn’t have many friends that I know of.”
“Any family?”
“No…,” Mr. Cane paused as if considering whether to bring something up or not, then he continued, “He used to bring up his wives, but now that they are both gone, he doesn’t talk about family.”
Marvin grasped the phone tighter; a breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean his wives?” The knuckles on his right hand grew whiter as he increased his hold on the receiver. “His wife, Libby Newman, disappeared four years ago but she was his only wife.”
Surprised, Mr. Cane responded, “Didn’t you know he was married before? I always thought it was strange that a man could lose two wives in the same way.”
Chief felt his heart skip a beat as he asked, “He lost two wives in the same way?”
“They both disappeared; he told me. Up and left him. I kinda’ felt sorry for him; some of the other guys did too when I told them, but he didn’t mention it again. It was like he regretted telling me. Guess he felt embarrassed that two women would leave him like that.”
Marvin interrupted him, “Mr. Cane, I think we need to talk in person. Could I come and see you?”
“You mean now?”
“Yes, the sooner the better,” Chief Hennessey replied, hanging up the phone.
* * * * *
A blast of cold air hit Claire and Jim as they exited the back door of his house. Briskly, they walked to the car, partly due to the cold, but also because of their growing excitement at the prospect of visiting Lynn Brookmeier.
When Claire opened the car door for Jim, she noticed the anguished look on his face and tenderly asked, “Are you sure you want to do this today? We could wait until tomorrow. I can call her back.”
Jim shook his head adamantly, “No, we need to see her today.” He grimaced before continuing, “I’m not clear why, but I get the feeling that we need to hurry.”
He held onto a bottle of water as he climbed into Claire’s car. Clasping the seatbelt on, he fished a pain pill out of his jacket pocket and gulped it down with a drink of the liquid.
Worriedly, Claire glanced over at him as she sat behind the wheel and put on her seatbelt. “Are you hurting?”
Jim pushed aside her concern but answered, “I’m only taking one of these because I want to be sharp when we hear what she has to say.”
He motioned for her to start the car.
Claire turned the key and put the car in reverse, all the while sneaking anxious peeks at Jim. “Lynn said to bring something of Libby’s for her to inspect, right?”
Jim nodded his head, pain evident on his face.
“Since we’re in a hurry, I’ll stop by and get the blood out of the freezer,” Claire said. “We know it’s her blood type; chances are it’s hers; and maybe Lynn can pick up on something using that.”
“Otherwise,” she continued, “we would have to drive to Frederick again.”
Jim waved his hand dismissively, “Not enough time for that. Just use the blood. Something tells me it’s hers too.”
Claire looked at him strangely and started to say something, but decided to let it drop.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Jim finally said, “It’s just that I keep getting this persistent feeling that we don’t have much time left.”
“Time for what? Time to get the case solved?”
Faltering, “I think Libby is sending us a message.”
“What kind of message?”
Jim replied, “I think she’s trying to tell us that we need to find her and solve this case before someone else disappears…or is murdered.”
* * * * *
The bag of snow, covered with blood stains, sat on the passenger car seat; the driver stole numerous glances at it.
Whose blood is it?
The individual, who was also the sole occupant of the car, strived to keep attention on the road while uneasily pondering this question.
She’s a retired police officer. Maybe it was in the freezer as evidence in a crime.
Uncertainty set in at this suggestion and creased lines appeared around the mouth and on the forehead.
But why would she have evidence in her own freezer? Usually they store it at a crime lab.
Eyebrows shot up. And, not to forget, she’s retired now. Why put blood in your freezer if not for a case you’re working on currently?
“It just doesn’t make sense!” The sentiment spoken aloud contributed to the car’s occupant temporarily losing concentration. A horn brought back full attention as instinct caused the driver to turn the wheel sharply to the right, narrowly missing another car coming in the opposite direction.
Taking a stab at wry humor, I’m reacquainting myself with the ‘local’ bad habits, crossing the center line, oblivious to oncoming traffic.
Frowning, but remembering to be cautious, it wouldn’t do me any good to be stopped by the Conservancy police…especially with this bag and its contents sitting in my front seat!
The person in the car then had another thought, why hang onto it? What good does it do me to keep it?
In fact, a sudden realization hit, why did I take it? I need to get rid of it! I don’t want even a hint of suspicion to lead them to me!
Proceeding out of the lakes area, the individual in the car looked in the rearview mirror, saw no other cars following, looked on either side, only saw woods, and made a hasty decision.
Slowing down, the driver pushed the power button to open the window. A hand grabbed the bag of red blood-stained snow and heaved it out, watching until it landed amongst the trees.
Finally a smile appeared, worry gave way to relief, and the car picked up momentum, as a foot aggressively pushed on the accelerator, bringing the speed back to normal, and once again eyes focused on the road ahead.
Stationed in the woods, a filmy white almost transparent being observed the car as it drove away. Looking sadly down at the discarded bag that had landed nearby, an anguished expression gave way to determination.
It’s imperative I tell them now! I can’t let my killer get away! Claire and Jim are the only ones who can help me. I just hope that they believe in ghosts.
* * * * *
As Trent drove up to the front entrance of Landry Trucking, he noticed a state police cruiser parked in front of the office. He looked at the car suspiciously and thought, wonder why they’re here? Surely they can’t be bothering them with more questions.
He frowned uncertainly, grappling with the meaning of the visit. Maybe they’re here because of an accident. Yeah, that must be it. There’s always an officer coming out to trucking companies to follow up on accident investigations.
Trent smiled in an attempt to relax, don’t need to get all shook up about them being here. I know they have plenty of new cases to work on.
He continued, they sure ask plenty of questions about accidents though.
Remembering an incident from a few years ago, why, I didn’t think they’d ever make up their minds about that one!
Of course, he added, they’re always extra cautious when investigating accidents where one of their own is involved.
Lucky for me, they didn’t find any evidence to link my truck to it!
And besides, Trent heaved a sigh of relief, that was three years ago.
He shook his head, they never did find out what really happened.
He turned toward the parking lot and walked over to his truck, giving a backward glance toward the office just as the two men exited the office. A worried expression crept onto his face. When I go in to get my paperwork, I’ll ask Art Cane what this is all about. He’ll tell me.
* * * * *
“Thanks for coming with me, George,” Marvin said. “This way it looks more official since I’m supposed to be retired.”
George Stanley slapped his former co-worker on the back and replied, “No problem, Chief. When you told me that this guy had Claire down as a reference, I couldn’t believe it! I had to hear for myself and…,” he stopped talking. “Isn’t that Trent Newman over there?”
Marvin Hennessey looked in the direction where George was pointing and responded, “Yep, that’s him. Looks like he’s getting ready to leave on another trip.”
“Do you want to talk to him now?”
Chief hesitated before answering, “No, let’s get to Claire first. I want to see if she can shine any light on this mystery before we talk to him. And,” he added, “I don’t want to give him any reasons to think we suspect him of anything at this point.”
George nodded in agreement, “You’ve got the picture. She might recognize him from that, but she didn’t do the interviewing of the husband so she might not remember what he looks like.”
He continued, “After Brad questioned him, we all had some nagging doubts but couldn’t find any evidence linking him to the crime. So, we left it at that and eventually filed it under cold cases. Claire might have gone back to the files and revisited it, but I’m not sure. If she did, and she knew this guy, undoubtedly she would have said something.”
Marvin interrupted, “She might have been struck by his description same as I was and not paid much attention to the picture. After all, it’s not very clear…he has a cap on and you can’t make out his features very clearly.”
“What are you talking about, Chief? What struck you about his description? Why wouldn’t she have paid attention to the picture?”
He thought about his impressions before explaining, “This guy seems so much like anyone else of that age and background…weight, height, both average, no identifying marks like tattoos or scars, nothing out of the ordinary. When reading the file today, I even gave him a name that typifies someone with features like his.”
George gave him a questioning look, “What name?”
“Everyman. His looks do not stand out and that is why he worries me.”
“What does that mean?”
Marvin paused before answering, “I mean that Trent Newman could very well be a more complicated individual than we had previously thought.”
“In what ways?”
“In lots of ways, George, but specifically I’m concerned that Trent Newman might have the capability to be more than one person…and that’s why I want to delve into his past a little more before I send up any red flags that he might detect.”
“So, you think he might have been involved with Libby Newman’s disappearance?”
Marvin shook his head affirmatively.
“And you think he might have committed other crimes that we need to investigate, like what happened to this supposed first wife?”
Again, Chief Hennessey agreed.
“And,” George continued, “You think he might have had the capability to disguise his identity?”
“All of us have that capability, George, but an ‘everyman’ can pull it off better than anyone else.”
Both men stood outside the trucking company office, pondering this possibility until the noonday sun burned their faces a beet-red color.
The ramifications of their thoughts hung like the heavy dust particles kicked up by the traffic in and around the parking lot, suspended in the heat, only moving when a quick sharp breeze left them fluttering. But when the wind died down, the particles would still be there…and so would the implications of what an ‘everyman’ can do.