Ryan had worked some evenings and Saturdays at the Frankie’s Ford dealership on Walkley Road at Bank Street. It was a fair distance from the school but could be walked in forty minutes or so. Had Ryan started out in that direction the day he disappeared?
I drove the most direct route before cruising around the side streets near the dealership. The Bella Vista Restaurant was a block over in a strip mall with a grocery store at one end. I tried to put myself in Ryan’s shoes. Had he stopped to eat at the Bella Vista between school and work? I pulled into the parking lot. The hunch was worth checking out.
I took a seat in a booth and a pleasant-looking woman soon approached. She was in her fifties, with curled white-blonde hair and a trim shape under her gold uniform. The place was a family-run restaurant, known for its pizza, but I ordered a cheeseburger platter and coffee. Eating another cook’s pizza would have felt wrong, as if I was two-timing on Gino.
I looked around while I waited. The decor was cream and black with rust-coloured wood in the floor and ceiling beams. Nothing fancy and no need to feel out of place in my jeans and plaid shirt. This was the kind of place where a teenage kid would grab a bite to eat.
The woman came back with my coffee. I read her name tag as I pulled a photo of Ryan out of my jacket and held it out to her. “Do you know this young man, Jeannie?” I asked.
She glanced at the photo and then held it closer for another look. She smiled. “Why, that’s Ryan. He used to come in here after school before his shift at Frankie’s. He hasn’t been in for a while, though.” Her face changed from friendly to suspicious. “Can I ask why you’re showing me his picture?”
“His family hasn’t seen him in about six months. They have no idea where he could be. You hadn’t heard that the police were looking for him?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t follow the news much because it’s always so depressing. The police never came to the restaurant. I hope Ryan’s okay. He’s a nice kid.”
“Was he ever with anybody when he came in to eat?”
Jeannie squinted at me through her glasses. “Who did you say you were again?”
“I’m private investigator Anna Sweet. Ryan’s parents hired me to find him.”
She glanced down at my ID card and back up at my face. Her mouth settled into a straight line, turned down at the ends. “I didn’t see him with anybody. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” She turned without waiting for me to answer and disappeared into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, a young man served my food. Jeannie didn’t come out of the kitchen again, which seemed odd. I finished eating and paid my bill, still with no sign of her. Was she avoiding me or had she gone off shift? I had no way of knowing, but the curious feeling that started with Ben and Travis was starting to grow.
. . .
The front lot of Frankie’s Ford took up a city block, showing off the latest shiny new cars and trucks. The back of the property was reserved for used models. I found a parking spot near a row of garage doors where a team of mechanics serviced Ford vehicles. It was a large operation and the leather couches in the waiting room made it clear Frankie’s was making money. There was even an expensive coffee maker in the corner under a big screen television with a sign that said to help yourself.
I walked up to the counter. I pictured Ryan Green standing here when he worked after school and on weekends. A white-haired man in navy work clothes was on duty. His name tag said Carl. He took his time getting up from his chair behind the counter to shuffle over to me.
“Yeah, can I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m private investigator Anna Sweet and I’ve been hired to look into Ryan Green’s disappearance. Did you know him?”
“Of course I did, young lady. If he hadn’t taken off without a word, I’d be working in the garage where I belong. We’re short-staffed in there too. Too many people just up and leaving without giving proper notice.”
I leaned on the counter and tried to look friendly. “Any idea why he took off?”
“Who knows? Kids these days. Heads always bent over some electronic gadget. Don’t know how to hold a conversation or the meaning of a good day’s work.”
“It seems odd the owner hasn’t replaced Ryan by now.”
“Nothing odd about it. You’re looking at the owner.”
It took a minute to compute. “But your name’s Carl.”
“That’s right. I’m Carl Montana. Frankie Montana was my father. He handed the business down to me and my son Bobby gets his turn when I die.” He looked toward the door. Through the window, I could see the garage and mechanics working on cars and trucks. Carl moved closer. “Bobby thinks he’s in charge now and he will be soon enough. He can have the headaches. Letting your son take over is one of the perks of getting old.” He grinned and his brown eyes twinkled.
I found myself liking him. “So you work on the cars?”
“I do. Never much enjoyed the business side. As to replacing Ryan, Bobby’s daughter Maggie usually works today, but she’s got exams. She’s a student at Carleton University. Smart girl.”
The door banged open and a younger, more muscular version of Carl entered, wiping his hands on an oil rag. By the bit of grey in his black hair, he looked to be in his fifties. “Hey, Pops. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, son. This here’s Anna Sweet, PI. She’s trying to find out what happened to young Ryan.”
Bobby’s eyes went from me to his dad and back again. His eyes were deep green and his stare was piercing. He laughed. “I’d offer you a hand to shake but mine are a bit dirty.” His face went serious. “We sure are worried about Ryan. I wish we had something to tell you that could help bring him home. Let his parents know we’re here if they need our help in any way.”
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell them. Did he come by the garage the day he went missing?”
“No. The police asked us the same question.”
“I’m going over the facts, trying to retrace Ryan’s steps that day. Here’s my business card if you remember anything, although I know it’s been a while.”
Carl picked up the card where I’d put it on the counter. “Thanks, young lady. How did you get into this dangerous line of work, anyhow?”
“Dad, that’s none of our business,” said Bobby. His voice was sharp and Carl looked down at the card in his hand.
Bobby smiled widely at me. “Please forgive my dad. I’m afraid he comes from a time when women were secretaries, teachers, or home with the kids.”
“Not really all that long ago,” I said. “Well, thanks for your help.” I started toward the entrance but stopped and turned with my hand on the door. Both men were watching me. “Did Ryan ever talk about his new girlfriend?” I asked.
“Ryan had a girlfriend?” Carl asked. “He never mentioned one to me, but I’m not surprised. He’s good-looking boy.”
Bobby added, “Ryan kept his work and social life separate.”
“Well, thanks again.” I pushed the door open and stepped outside. The grey November clouds had darkened. Cold drops of rain struck my face by the time I’d crossed the parking lot to my car. I decided to head home to type up what I’d observed and to read through the file again. I’d plan my next steps and get a fresh start in the morning. Hopefully, by then, I’d be able to think of some angle that the police hadn’t already crossed off the list.
The question was . . . what?