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June 2021—Greenfield, Massachusetts
Karen brought Gil into a meeting room to display her computer on the large monitor. She told Gil that the child died of a broken neck, but they couldn’t tell whether it was a murder or an accident. Their first goal was to identify the child and his family, and he helped her create a digital murder board similar to the physical ones he’d seen on TV. The board included everything Gil thought he remembered about the family from his hypnosis sessions.
“I’m working with Agent Lili D’Amico at the State Police Crime Lab in Springfield,” said Karen. “I’ve sent the bullets down for ballistic analysis. We still have the child’s remains for some reason, even though they should have been buried a long time ago, so I sent those down too. I’ve tried searching the internet for hippies living in caves, but I didn’t find anything about that in this area. What I’d like you to do next is figure out who we could talk to from the hippie community to try and identify this family.”
“I can do that. A lot of it will involve the communes in this area. The hippies gravitated toward them. One thing I’m curious about, though. How were the remains discovered, and what did the police find, back in the nineties?”
“There was a group of middle schoolers on a geology field trip. They were rooting around, looking for different minerals, and one of the kids uncovered the bones. It must have been shocking for the kids. The police investigation found no useful leads. By the way, you’re invited to Mick’s house for a cookout tonight at six thirty. You game?”
“That sounds great!”
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Nobody was wearing masks at the cookout. Micky’s wife was named Jane, and she was a lawyer specializing in women’s advocacy. She introduced Gil to her sons and daughters. Her son Jeff was Karen’s husband. After Gil got a plate of food, he sat down at the picnic table. Jane sat down with him and started pumping him for information about his life while he was fumbling around, trying to eat ribs and corn on the cob. “I’m so sorry to hear about Cynthia,” she said.
“Thanks. It’s been about a year, and I’m just starting to come out of my funk.” She asked him question after question about his kids and grandkids, his engineering work, and his late wife. At a certain point, Gil felt like she knew more about him than he did—including how much barbecue sauce was on his face. He was about to ask Jane about herself, but she abruptly got up and said she had to go check on something. The food was great, and he was considering seconds when a back slap nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Oh. Hi, Eddie.” Gil stood up to talk to him.
“So Gil, I hear you’ve suddenly become a gumshoe, a sleuth, a private eye, a dick!”
“No, I’m just helping out a little. I’m just a high-priced consultant.”
Eddie wagged his finger. “A lot of people around here are going to be pretty twitchy about that. You know where the proverbial bodies are buried around here, after all.” He poked Gil in the chest. “You just remember, buddy, we have stuff on you too. I know who egged Damon Barne’s Triumph. I know who put the dead skunk in the girl’s room at the high school. I know who blew up an M-80 in Needle-Nose Garber’s mailbox. You better think twice about what you say and to whom you say it!”
Gil laughed. “Eddie, you blew up Mr. Garber’s mailbox.” Mr. Garber was the much-feared vice principal of their junior high school. He had a sharp protruding nose and would get up in your face when he was mad at you.
“Oh yeah, I guess I did. So I do know who did it then, don’t I?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, then suddenly became more composed. “So you and Mick saw who killed the cave boy . . .”
“No, we just saw some people around up there, so maybe the police can figure out who he is and what happened to him. Do you know any old hippies from back then?”
“Nah, but those were the days, weren’t they? Free love, acid trips, rock ’n’ roll, lava lamps—yeah baby! Of course, at our age now, there’s no greater pleasure than taking a good dump.”
Gil laughed. “You could write a song about that.”
“Oh, here comes my lovely friend Pam. Pam, this is Gil, who we saw at the country club.”
Gil smiled. “Nice to meet you, Pam. Are you going to the mud dance?”
She looked at me quizzically, and Eddie said, “Um, uh, Gil must be a little confused. I can explain.”
Jane came back and interrupted. “Eddie, do you mind if I borrow Gil for a few minutes? Official business.” Gil got up, and Jane led him to a corner of the yard where they couldn’t be heard. “Karen asked if I could find the names of anybody connected to the hippie community. I gave her a couple of names, but one woman told me she might know something, but she wasn’t willing to talk to the police. I explained who you were and asked if she’d be willing to talk to you, and she said she would.” She pressed a note into his hand with a name and number.
“Thanks, Jane.”