That Which Was Lost Read online

  “I can sleep on the couch if that’s okay. I don’t want to go home and be all alone.”

  “The couch won’t be a gut place to sleep,” Ettie said.

  Myra bounced a little on the couch. “It feels soft and comfy. It’ll be fine.”

  Ettie smiled, grateful that her nephew, Bailey, recently bought them the couch after she’d been sick. Before that, they only had hard wooden chairs. “Bailey bought this couch for me.” Guests had always complained about the chairs, but Elsa-May and she were used to them.

  “You say Bailey used to be in the FBI?” Myra asked.

  Ettie nodded. “I know you’re thinking he might be able to help, but we keep him out of things as much as we can. He’s had too much trauma in his life already.”

  Myra looked down at her hands.

  “We’ll figure it out and find Peter. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Ettie said.

  “I know, Mamm, that’s why I’m here. I know you and Elsa-May are good at this kind of thing.”

  Chapter 3.

  Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:

  Fear God, and keep his commandments:

  for this is the whole duty of man.

  Ecclesiastes 12:13

  The earliest Crowley could make it, was the following afternoon. He picked up Maureen on the way to Ettie's house and all the widows were waiting for them when they arrived. The widows including, Emma and Silvie were seated with cups of iced tea, a hot pot of coffee, and plenty of iced lemon cake placed before them.

  He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he saw Myra. She was many years older than when he had last seen her. There were small wrinkles around her eyes and her skin wasn’t as firm, but she was still a beautiful woman. Myra leaned into him and gave him a slight hug. Embarrassed at the widows watching them, he gave her a slight pat on the back.

  “Thanks for coming,” Myra said to him.

  “I know your mother and your aunt quite well.” Crowley sat and saw all the food. He waved his hand to dismiss the feast. “Just water for me, please, Ettie. I’m off sugar at the moment.”

  “But it does get the energy up,” Myra and Maureen said together. They sniggered at one another for quoting one of Ettie's many sayings.

  Ettie smirked at the girls and frowned at Crowley. She handed around the plate of cake. “Eat, Crowley. There's work to do, and I want us all well fed.”

  Detective Crowley took a piece of cake, and after he had taken a mouthful, he placed it back down on the plate in front of him and took his pen and notepad from his inner coat pocket. Crowley wore a concentrated expression, along with his Columbo trench and well-worn shoes. He glanced up at the china clock, which sat on top of a bureau between two small embroidered Scriptures. “I have an appointment to keep after this.”

  “Right, best get on with it,” Elsa-May said. “In brief, Myra's husband disappeared as if he never existed and her local police aren't interested.”

  Crowley rolled his eyes and put his pen and pad back in his pocket. “Maybe he's gone off with another woman.” He turned to Myra. “Sorry, but we see hundreds of these cases.” He leaned toward Ettie. “We recently dealt with a very similar case and found the gentleman was with another lady. We wasted many hours of already over-stretched manpower and spent good money out of a limited budget. I can understand why the police department washed their hands of the whole thing.”

  “No,” Myra shouted. “He wouldn’t have gone off with another woman.” Myra nearly dropped her plate on the coffee table. “Mother, show him.”

  Crowley’s eyes widened, and he attempted to apologize, but Ettie raised her hand. “Stop. You're theorizing without details. My fault; let me enlighten you of the facts. Thankfully, I noted them down, and I think you'll agree they're confounding.” Ettie offered Crowley the list, which bullet-pointed the facts that Myra had given her. “You can read through it while you eat.” Ettie pointed to his ignored slice of cake.

  Crowley shook his head, took a large bite of cake and while reading, he both chewed and slurped on coffee. Once finished, he set the list on the table. Everyone in the room held their breath, hoping for some professional insight. “I maintain my original theory, I'm afraid. This man is a conman, pure and simple. If you research his finances, I bet you'll find debts built up under this fake name. Now he's off to do the whole thing again elsewhere, with a new name and a clean slate. Sorry, Myra, wish I could tell you something else, but that’s my professional opinion. If he’s got away for so long with a false identity, he won’t think twice about creating another one.” Crowley hated breaking bad news, but he always thought it best that it be said quickly as one would rip off a band-aid.

  “I disagree,” Ettie peered at her daughter, who appeared close to crumbling. “Why has no one in his office heard of him? Something's wrong, Detective, something else.” She placed her palm over Myra's hand. “We'll get to the bottom of this on our own if we need to, but you could help us enormously in your line of work if you had a mind to, Detective."

  “You're not alone,” Maureen declared to Myra. “I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

  “Me too,” Emma said.

  The widows shot a joint scowl at Crowley.

  “You’ve always helped us before,” Elsa-May narrowed her eyes at Crowley.

  Detective Crowley took a deep breath. “Stop, please. I couldn't investigate this anyway; it’s not my case. And we can’t nose into people's finances, backgrounds, and any other details, without it being one of our cases. It can get in the way more often than not in my line of work, but it's the law.”

  Silvie sniped, “We aren't interested in the trials of being a detective. We invited you here as a friend who might want to help us in this matter.”

  “You have access to the records that we can’t access. You don’t have to ‘officially’ take the case.” Ettie winked at the detective. “If you know what I mean.”

  The detective sat silently with his lips down-turned.

  Elsa-May studied the detective before she stood up. “If you can’t help us, we won’t hold you up. Women have greater instincts than men, and it's no more evidenced than in this case.”

  With coffee in hand Crowley stood. “A bit sexist, don't you think?” Crowley walked to the door and left his cup on the walnut dresser in the hallway. “I'd help if I thought it would make a difference.” Crowley bowed his head as he stepped outdoors. “If you turn up something a little more concrete, give me a call.”

  He headed to the car disappointed that they weren’t listening to him. The man had to be some kind of criminal if he was using a fake birth certificate and pretending to be someone else. The widows were normally intelligent and caught onto things quickly. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he realized that their personal association with Myra was clouding their judgment. He reminded himself not to end up guilty of the same thing. Crowley started the engine, turned his car around, and headed toward the main road knowing that the widows would end up roping him in – they always did.

  * * *

  Elsa-May closed the door on Crowley and sat down with Myra and the other widows.

  “So he’s not going to help?” Myra asked.

  “Jah, he will eventually,” Ettie said.

  Myra frowned and stared at the widows in turn. “He refused us.”

  “He’s like that most of the time, but he’ll come ‘round. Always does,” Maureen said.

  The widows sniggered and nodded in agreement.

  “How are you getting home, Maureen? Didn’t Ronald drive you?” Myra asked.

  “I’m driving her home,” Silvie said.

  “My horse needs new shoes I’m afraid. I haven’t had time to get it done,” Maureen explained.

  “I’ve forgotten all about driving by horse and buggy, it’s not as easy as picking up the keys and getting in a car,” Myra said already missing basic modern conveniences.

  “If I had a man, my life would be easier. He could look after the horse and buggy and
all those outside things.” Maureen laughed then stopped herself. “Oh, I’m sorry, Myra.”

  Myra shook her head. “Don’t be; it’s okay.”

  Maureen leaned forward and looked into Myra’s face. “Getting back to Crowley. We just need to have some piece of information that intrigues him. At the moment, he thinks that Peter has run away with another woman, but as soon as we prove that he hasn’t, Crowley will want to know more. Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

  “Right.” Ettie took one last slurp of her coffee and set the cup down on the coffee table. “The plan is Maureen will bug Crowley into doing all he can from his end. I know he said he couldn't, but he doesn't need to do anything that might lose him his pension just a little nosing about. I'm sure he'll look into Peter's life, his employer's details, his cell phone, or something. All of which we're unable to do ourselves.”

  Silvie clasped her hands in her tiny lap. “Flirt a little, Maureen.”

  Maureen’s mouth fell open. “Hush, Silvie. I’ll do no such thing.”

  The widows and even Myra sniggered.

  Ettie turned her attention to Myra. “You go back to your house and take Emma and Silvie with you. You must look for clues.”

  Myra frowned. “I looked for something, but there’s nothing, that's the problem. Anyway, I can’t go back there with him still missing. I can’t.” Myra sobbed into her hands.

  The widows looked at Ettie, who said, “All right, give us the address and we’ll go without you.”

  Ettie ignored Myra’s comments about there being nothing there, deciding she would have been too emotional to see rationally. “And then, we can search in the place where Peter used to work.”

  “Search how?” Myra shook her head. “They deny ever meeting Peter remember, let alone employing him.”

  “Interview his boss, a few of his colleagues. And if one of us could access the boss’s computer and take a look at the human resources files, it could be very revealing.”

  Myra groaned, exasperated by her mother's ideas. “It's useless, none of this will work.”

  “It will. You asked for help so give us a chance,” Ettie snapped. “We need your support, not this constant whining.”

  “Mamm?” Myra's eyes widened.

  “Sorry, but honestly. You have no one else on your side remember? At least pretend to value our efforts.” Ettie pressed her lips together.

  Myra gaped and slumped back into the couch. “I do; it's all so frustrating.”

  Elsa-May sat next to Myra and grabbed a hand to hold in her lap before looking at Ettie. “What will you be doing, Ettie, and what about me?”

  Ettie rubbed her nose. “We're the oldest, can't walk far, much less run around after people or flutter our eyelashes. We'll work through the clues and find any missing details from here as and when evidence comes in.”

  Myra peered around at everyone. “Thank you. I appreciate your support. Mamm's so lucky to have you as her friends."

  A moment of emotion passed between them, somehow intensifying the smells of lemon cake, coffee, and the glorious fresh lilies Emma and Silvie had brought with them.

  Maureen said, “We'll do our best to find him for you.”

  Emma smiled. “We'll get to the bottom of all this, Myra, you'll see.”

  Chapter 4.

  Abstain from all appearance of evil.

  1 Thessalonians 5:22

  Plans changed as Ettie decided to go to Myra’s house the very next day as Maureen had been called in to work.

  Elsa-May stayed with Myra while Silvie, Emma and Ettie drove in the taxi towards Myra’s house, which was a twenty minute drive.

  Silvie asked Ettie, “Do you think we’ll find anything at the house? I understand she’s upset and didn’t want to come along, but how are we supposed to know what to look for?”

  “Please, just trust. We’ve all done this kind of thing before. We want to find proof of who he is, or was.” Ettie spoke quietly, so the taxi driver wouldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Silvie continued, “It just doesn’t add up. Something is obviously wrong, but first we have to figure out who Peter really is. Perhaps that will lead us to find out where he disappeared to.”

  “That’s right,” Ettie said.

  “So what do we want to find? Fingerprints?” Emma asked.

  “Exactly,” Ettie replied as the blur of trees zipping by the car’s windows reminded her of her youth: just another thing that had gone by too fast. “We just need to find something of Peters to have tested. Remember Crowley?”

  “We need to find something that will make him want to help?” Emma asked.

  “Jah. He’s still a detective; he’ll be as fascinated by this whole thing as we are.”

  “He didn’t seem to be. He as good as said that Peter ran off with another woman,” Silvie said. “I could ask Bailey if he’d help.”

  “We’ll keep Bailey out of this. He’s already gone out on a limb for us one too many times. Crowley will help.” Ettie believed that it was much more than just a missing person’s case, and so would Crowley once they found proof. It wasn’t just that a man had run away with another woman. Nothing added up. “Why would he keep all his money, including the house, in Myra’s name?”

  “It’s clear he wasn’t using her for money,” Silvie said. “Wasn’t taking advantage of her financially.”

  “I wonder what the story is behind the fake birth certificate. Could he be an illegal immigrant? I know it’s hard for people from other countries to become citizens here, so maybe that’s it,” Ettie said.

  “Hopefully we’ll get clues at the house.” Silvie smiled as the taxi pulled into the driveway of Myra’s home. “Let’s get what we came here for.”

  As Ettie closed the car door, she looked around the front lawn. Nothing seemed out of place in the slightest. The grass was well kept, the hedges were trimmed, and the house looked immaculate. The four large windows, which dotted the front of the house, were all in pristine condition and locked. Silvie tried opening them unsuccessfully as Ettie fidgeted with the keys on Myra’s heavy key-chain. She finally found the one that her daughter had verbally labeled as the front door key. “Ah, here it is.”

  When they stepped through the door, Ettie handed disposable gloves to Silvie and Emma so they wouldn’t upset any evidence they found.

  As Silvie pulled the gloves on, she said, “Will anything we find be able to be used as evidence since we’re not the police?”

  Ettie’s gaze wandered to the ceiling for a moment. “Let’s not get beyond ourselves. There’s no crime, we’re looking to find some clue to help Myra find Peter.”

  Emma nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  As Ettie scoured the kitchen for clues, Silvie shouted from upstairs. “Ettie, it looks like no man has ever even lived here.”

  Ettie made her way upstairs into the master bedroom to see what the fuss was about. “Well, Myra did say that most of his things were gone, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but look,” Silvie said, pointing to an open closet. As Ettie peered in, she noticed there were hardly any clothes in there.

  “I know she’s your dochder, but are you sure she was ever even married? Maybe she just made him up as an excuse to distant herself from you,” Silvie said as she opened and looked in drawers.

  Ettie looked at Silvie in disbelief. “Nee, it wasn’t that. We stopped talking long before her husband was ever in the picture. She left the community as a teenager, most likely before you were even born.”

  “I know, but something just doesn’t add up. Either she made up his entire existence, or he did.” The sound of truth in Silvie’s assessment made Ettie’s stomach turn. Why on earth would anyone falsify an identity for over ten years? The women continued looking through most of the house and had found nothing when Ettie was struck with the idea to look in the garage. Ettie instructed Emma to continue her search inside the house while she rummaged through the garage with Silvie.

  “We need something with Peter’s fing
erprints. If he left something behind, it would probably be in here,” Ettie said as she pulled up the sliding metal door of the two-car garage. The sound of metal scraping tore at the old woman’s hearing. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  Silvie giggled at Ettie’s words, but Ettie had been serious.

  Once the door was completely up, they strolled into the garage. As Silvie looked around, Ettie searched through a stack of old, rusted car parts slumped against a corner of the room. It looked like a car had exploded, cooled off, and then all of its pieces landed in one area.

  “Nothing here is useful, unfortunately.” Just as those words left Ettie’s lips, her eyes fell on the shining, steel shaft of a golf club. A single club sat isolated in its golf bag, waiting to be collected and tested for fingerprints. “At last; I think this might work,” Ettie said, holding up her newly discovered treasure in her gloved hand.

  “Great. I’ll have the taxi drop you back at your place, and then I’ll take this down to the station and show Detective Crowley,” Silvie said sweetly.

  Ettie nodded in agreement, and after they had collected Emma, the three women headed to the waiting taxi.

  * * *

  The next day, Ettie woke to the sound of someone banging on the front door. She jumped out of bed, hoping that Myra wouldn’t wake. Walking past Myra asleep on the couch, she was glad to see she was fast asleep. She opened the door to see Crowley.

  “Ettie, we just ran the prints through AFIS and got a match. They came back as belonging to a man named Preston Judge. Is he someone your daughter might know?”

  “I’m not sure, Detective.” Ettie rubbed her face; she was still half asleep. “Myra’s asleep on the couch. Can I come and see you later today after we try to figure out who this man is?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. We all appreciate your help,” Ettie said satisfied that Crowley had been of some help.

  Crowley peered over Ettie’s head. “Could you tell Myra I said hello?”