“What are you talking about?”
“Ghosts don’t haunt us. That’s not how it works. They’re present among us because we won’t let go of them.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said, faintly.
“Some people can’t see the color red. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” she replied.
When I reached the office, Dietz was sitting in my swivel chair with his feet up on the desk. One of the sandwich packets had been opened and he was munching on a BLT. I still hadn’t eaten lunch so I reached for the other sandwich. I removed a soft drink from the refrigerator and sat down across from him.
“How’d you do at the Dispatch?”
He laid the four Maddison obituaries on the desk so I could study them. “I had Jeff Katzenbach dig through the files. Mother’s maiden name was Bangham, so I went over to the library and checked the city directory for other Banghams in the area. None. Three of those obits I’ve verified at the Hall of Records, checking death certificates. Claire’s still a question mark.”
“How so?” I popped the top on my soda can and began to pick at the cellophane and plastic packet in which my sandwich was sealed.
Dietz was saying, “There’s no suggestion how she died. I’d be interested in seeing if we can get the suicide confirmed just to put that one to bed. I got the name of a P.I. in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and left a lengthy message with her service. I’m hoping someone will return my call.”
“What difference does it make how she died?” I tried biting the seal on the cellophane. Was this kiddie-proof, like poison? Dietz held his hand out for the wrapped sandwich and I passed it across the desk to him.
“Suppose she was murdered? Suppose she was the victim of a hit-and-run accident?” He freed the sandwich and gave it back to me.
“You’ve got a point,” I said. I paused to eat while I reread the information. The obits were in date order, starting with the father’s death in late November 1967. Dietz had had all four of them copied onto one page.
MADDISON, Francis M., 53,
departed suddenly on Tuesday, November 21. Loving, adored husband of 25 years to Caroline B. Maddison; beloved father to daughters, Claire and Patricia. He was a service manager at Colgate Automotive Center and a member of the Community Christian Church. He was much loved and will be missed by family and friends. Funeral: 11:30 A.M. Friday. In lieu of flowers, donations to the American Heart Association would be appreciated.
I glanced up at him and said, “Fifty-three. That’s young.”
“They were all young,” Dietz said.
MADDISON, Patricia Anne, 17,
died Thursday, May 9, at Santa Teresa Hospital. She is survived by her loving mother, Caroline B. Maddison, and a devoted sister, Claire Maddison. At the family’s request, services will be private.
MADDISON, Caroline B., 58,
died Tuesday, August 29, at her home after a lengthy illness. She was born on January 22 to Helen and John Bangham, in Indianapolis, Indiana, graduating from Indiana University with a degree in home economics. Caroline was a devoted wife, mother, a homemaker, and a Christian. Preceded in death by her husband, Francis M. Maddison, and her daughter Patricia Anne Maddison. Survived by loving daughter Claire Maddison of Bridgeport, Connecticut. No services are planned. Contributions may be made to Hospice of Santa Teresa.
MADDISON, Claire, 39,
formerly of Santa Teresa, died Saturday, March 2, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Daughter of the late Francis M. and Caroline B. Maddison, Claire was preceded in death by her only sister, Patricia. Claire graduated from Santa Teresa High School in 1963 and the University of Connecticut in 1967. She pursued her secondary teaching credential and M.A. in Romance Languages at Boston College. She taught French and Italian at a private girls’ academy in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Service, Tuesday in the Memorial Park Chapel.
I read Claire’s death notice twice. “This was just last year.”
“Thank goodness she’d gone back to her maiden name,” he said. “I don’t know how we’d have found her if she’d been using her ex-hubby’s moniker.”
“Whoever he was,” I said. “She’d probably been divorced for ages. There wasn’t much family to speak of. You watch the names of the survivors diminish until there’s no one left. It’s depressing, isn’t it?”
“I thought the mother might have surviving family members in Indiana, but I can’t seem to get a line on them,” Dietz said. “I tried directory assistance in Indianapolis. There weren’t any Banghams listed, so at least on the face of it, we’re not talking about a large close-knit clan. just to be on the safe side, I checked the CALI Directory and put a call through to an Indianapolis private investigator. I asked him to check Caroline Bangham’s birth records to see if that nets us anything. We might not glean much, but he said he’d get back to us.”
I made a face. “You know what? I think we’re spinning our wheels on this one. I just don’t buy the idea that some distraught family member would seek revenge eighteen years later.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “If it weren’t for Bader’s death, there wouldn’t have been a reason to look for Guy at all. He Might have gone on living in Marcella for the rest of his days.”
“It wasn’t strictly Bader’s death. It was the will,” I said.
“Which brings us back to the five million.”
“I guess it does,” I said. “I’ll tell you what hurts. I feel like I was part of what happened to Guy.”
“Because you found him.”
“Exactly. I didn’t cause his death, in any strict sense of the word, but if it hadn’t been for me, he’d be safe the way I see it.”
“Hey, come on. That’s not true. Tasha would have hired herself some other detective. Maybe not as good as you . . .”
“Don’t suck up.”
“Look, someone would have found him. It just happened to be you.”
“I suppose,” I said. “It still feels like shit.”
“I’m sure it does.”
The phone rang. Dietz answered and then handed me the handset, mouthing the name Enid.
I nodded and took the phone. “Hi, Enid. This is Kinsey. How are you?”
“Not so good,” she said, fretfully. “Did Myrna call you?”
“Not as far as I know. Let me check my messages.” I put a hand across the mouthpiece. “Did the Maleks’ housekeeper call or leave a message for me?”
Dietz shook his head and I went back to Enid. “No, there’s nothing here.”
“Well, that’s odd. She swore she was going to call you. I made her promise she would. I went to the supermarket and I was only gone fifteen or twenty minutes. She said she’d be here when I got back, but she’s. gone and there’s no sign of her. I thought you might have asked her to come in.”
“Sorry. I never heard from her. What’s she want to talk to me about?”
“I’m not sure. I know something’s been bothering her, but she wouldn’t be specific. Her car’s still out back. That’s what’s so strange,” she said.
“Could she have gone to the doctor’s? If she really wasn’t feeling well, she might have called a cab.”
“It’s always possible, but you’d think she would have waited to have me take her. This is just so unlike her. She told me she’d help me with dinner. I have a meeting at seven and I have to be out of here early. We discussed it in detail.”
“Maybe she’s out walking somewhere on the property.”
“I thought of that,” she said. “I went out there myself, calling, but she’s disappeared.”
“Enid, let’s be realistic. I don’t think being gone less than an hour constitutes a disappearance.”
“I’m worried something’s happened.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I called you. Because I’m scared.”
“What’s the rest?”
“That’s it.”
“No, it’s not. You’re leaving something out. I mean, so far this doesn’t make sense. Do you think she’s been abducted by aliens, or what?’
I could hear her hesitation. “I got the impression she knew something about the murder.”
“Really? She said that?”
“She hinted as much. She was too nervous to say more. I think she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see that night.”
“She told me she was sleeping.”
“Well, she was. She’d taken some pain medication and a sleeping pill. She slept like the dead, but then she remembered later that she woke up at one point to find someone standing at the foot of her bed.”
“Wait a minute, Enid. You’re not talking about this woo-woo stuff . . .”
“Not at all. I promise. This is what she said. She said she thought she’d been dreaming, but the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it was real.”
“What was?”
“The person she saw.”
“I gathered that, Enid. Who?”