Barry had enjoyed his position as manager of the biggest public library in New York City for the past thirty-four years. Years that had stripped him of his sportsman-like waistline, replacing it with a bowl full of fatty goo. His protruding tummy required the continual use of suspenders to ensure the top of his drawers never showed the public more than they bargained for. But he didn’t mind. He’d grown fond of the suspenders over time, especially when he discovered they came in multiple colors. Patterned colors even. Today he was donning a pair of blue and white striped ones, a gift from his ailing mother.
***
Addison spotted Barry immediately, noting his suspenders had been hoisted up as high as they could go—a good two inches past his belly button. One would think it would have been the main attraction when looking at Barry, but even more prominent was the foam brace positioned around his neck.
“Excuse me?” Addison asked.
He swiveled around. “Yes?”
“Do you work here?”
Barry tapped the plastic name plate pinned over his right breast pocket.
“Can you tell me where I might find the newspaper archives?” she asked.
“Which ones?”
“I’d like to look at everything you have from the late fifties.”
“I meant which paper,” he said, with a wink.
“The Rhinebeck Bee.”
Barry inserted his thumbs beneath the suspenders, running them up and down. “Follow me.”
Barry led her down a spiral staircase. He tried on occasion to glance to the side as he spoke, but his neck brace kept his head taut, as if hot glued in place.
“You one of those history buffs or somethin’?” Barry asked.
“No. I’m just trying to find information on someone.”
“A relative?”
“I’m not sure—I don’t think so.”
“Whadd’ya expect to find if you don’t know who you’re looking for?” he joked.
She changed the subject. “Have you worked here long?”
“Long enough. I suppose I could retire. I don’t relish the idea of sitting around the house with nothing to do except watch Spencer for Hire reruns all day. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. You ever see that show?”
She’d never even heard of it before. “I don’t believe so.”
“You should watch it sometime. Robert Urich was a damn good actor, you ask me. Died too young.” Barry opened a door on the right and extended his hand, ushering Addison inside. “Okay, these boxes here on the third shelf,” he pointed, “are labeled with the year on the front, so it’s easier for you to find the one you want. The Rhinebeck Bee didn’t publish as much as some of their larger counterparts, so there’s only one box per year. Shouldn’t be too hard for you to find what you need. I’ll leave the door open—holler at me if you need anything else. Of course it might take some time for me to get back down here.”
Addison smiled. “If I need anything, I’ll come find you.”
He walked out the door, hesitating before climbing the stairs to the main level. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. The papers have all been preserved inside plastic sleeves, but they’re the originals. Best you be gentle.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She pulled down a box labeled: Rhinebeck Bee: 1952. The first seven months’ worth of papers didn’t contain any information about a missing woman. It wasn’t until she perused the paper for August that she found something—a headline which read: “Young Starlet Still Missing.” She used the tips of her fingers to gently remove it from the box.
Dominating the center of the front page, in black and white, was a woman—smiling, vibrant, full of life and confidence—almost unrecognizable when compared to the frail, panic-stricken woman she’d seen over the past two days.
But it was her.
Addison was sure of it.
The woman was twenty-nine, the same age as Addison. Her raven-colored hair was long and lustrous. It parted in the middle of her forehead, falling into thick, loose curls over both sides of her face, nearly covering her eyes. She stood, legs spread wide, hands on hips, staring into the camera like she didn’t just plan to live in the world, she planned to own it.
The date on the paper was August 25, 1952. The article read:
It has been two weeks since the disappearance of up-and-coming actress Roxanne “Roxy” Rafferty, Oscar-nominated for her role in Joseph Lennart’s film, A Night in Paris. Rafferty was last seen attending a dinner party in Rhinebeck, New York. When questioned, party host Marjorie Grayson said in a statement to police that the actress had left her home shortly after eleven that evening. She hadn’t seen or heard from the Hollywood starlet since that time. Police have questioned everyone in attendance that night, but as of today, Rafferty’s whereabouts are unknown. A thorough search of the actress’s home has been conducted. At this time police have not commented about the search, divulged any new leads, or said whether foul play has been suspected.
Roxanne Rafferty, age twenty-nine, first starred in the critically-acclaimed romantic comedy, Stolen Kisses, at the tender age of twenty-one. Since that time, Rafferty has been highly sought after and widely regarded as an actress with the ability to bring success to any role she’s given. Often seen playing the role of the beautiful and confident girl next door, it’s been widely speculated that doe-eyed Rafferty was involved with her costars both on and off screen.
Three years ago, rumors circulated of her romance with actor Phillip Edwards while on the set of Fly Me Away and were quickly confirmed when Rafferty was seen donning a three-carat, diamond-and-platinum engagement ring, said to be given to her by the dashing actor, who was ten years her senior. But the wedding never came to pass and was eventually called off by Rafferty soon after she started filming A Night in Paris, where she was believed to be dating another costar, this time leading-actor and already-married Hugh Brandon.
The article went on to say that Rafferty’s disappearance occurred at the same time Norman Grayson went missing, creating speculation that the two of them had left town together after the party at Grayson Manor. Witnesses from the night of the party gave conflicting reports, some saying Grayson and Rafferty were seen leaving together, others saying Rafferty left earlier while Grayson had remained.
Addison pulled a piece of scrap paper out of her wallet and a miniature-sized pencil she’d snagged from a desk upstairs and jotted down anything she felt was relevant information. She snapped a few photos with her camera phone and then forwarded them to Luke. Then she carefully slipped the newspaper back into place and searched the rest of that year for any further information on the missing woman.
There was none.
Addison returned the box to the shelf and retrieved the one for the following year. The second article she found was headlined: “Where Is Roxanne Rafferty?” In the article, it was reported that no new leads had surfaced over the past six months. Police were baffled, speculating that she was indeed dead, although her body had never been found. Some friends and family insisted Rafferty wouldn’t just walk away from such a promising, lucrative career, including two starring roles slated to begin filming the following year.
There were no further articles on the disappearance of her grandfather, and a search of all the papers for the rest of 1953 turned up one additional result for Rafferty. A meager, insignificant article written on page six proclaimed the case had gone cold. Investigators shelved it, pending new leads. But there weren’t any new leads—not that year, not the next year, and not the year after that. Everyone had moved on.