Code 61 - Donald Harstad [130]
We'd all been thinking as we drove, and we used this chance to plan a bit.
“What do you hear about your missing girl, Harry?” asked Hester.
“Haven't really heard shit,” he replied, munching a Big Mac. He swallowed. “It's strange. She just went into the ladies john, and disappeared. Took her car, as far as we can tell, and just left.”
“Foul play?” I asked. That was a formal designation in “Attempt To Locate” bulletins for missing persons. “Foul Play Feared.”
“Beats the crap out of me,” said Harry. “But we put in, just in case.”
By categorizing the case as a “Foul Play Feared,” it opened up the nationwide system about twelve hours earlier than a normal missing persons report, and was flagged for immediate attention.
“Not one fuckin' sign of a struggle,” said Harry. “ 'Scuse me, Hester. Just a bunch of worried friends.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “At least I ain't had nobody drive a stake in any corpses this week.”
“That,” I said, searching for my fries in the bag, “was one of the weirdest things I've ever seen.”
“Me, too,” said Hester. “It was just plain spooky.”
“Mmmph,” said Harry.
“I've been thinking about our little group at the Mansion,” said Hester, holding open the other sack for me to get my two Big Macs.
“Yeah?” I lifted both burgers out in their cardboard containers, and placed them carefully on the dash. “Nonconformists, aren't they?”
“Dedicated,” said Hester, handing me my napkin.
“I kinda like most of 'em,” I said, opening the first burger box. “Boy, I'm hungry.”
“I do, too,” she said. She started rustling around in the sack, looking for the fries she'd ordered. “I'm going to tell you guys something, and you keep it to yourselves, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I took a bite of my burger.
“You betcha, Hester,” said Harry, earnestly.
“Okay, I think this might help us figure them out. That's the only reason I'm telling you this.”
She paused so long, I'd swallowed and taken a second bite before she began again.
“When I graduated from Iowa State,” she said, “I thought I had it all. Or thought I was going to get it, anyway. I don't want to be immodest, or anything, but everybody I knew sort of assumed I was on my way to the top. My parents. My professors. My roommates. Even me. You know?” She paused again.
“Sure. I know,” I prompted. To give some idea of how little of our background information we'd ever exchanged, I hadn't known until now that Hester had gone to Iowa State.
“My plan was, I was going to be a famous chemist, was going to marry some guy who was, oh, maybe an equally famous architect or something. Live in New York. Paint landscapes in my spare time.” She took a sip of her Diet Coke. “You know the sort of thing?”
“Yep,” said Harry.
“Well,” she went on, “just two days after graduation, Dad had a stroke. I missed about a year and a half in the job market, because I stayed home with Mom, and helped take care of him. No problem. Hell, for what they'd done for me, it was hardly a drop in the bucket.”
“Sure.” I took another bite of burger.
“My sister graduated a year behind me. She didn't stay home. Hey, I told her not to. No point in both of us being there.” She took another sip. “Okay, and then, when Dad died, then, there wasn't quite enough life insurance to even pay off the house mortgage. All borrowed against to help us in school, and to take one family trip. What was left was eaten up by the noncovered medical expenses. So much for teaching.” She produced a sad excuse for a smile. “He was a teacher. Math. I didn't tell you that.”
I took a drink from my Coke cup. “Doesn't pay too much,” I said. “Sue's been a teacher for almost twenty years now, and makes about what I do.”
“I dated a teacher once,” said Harry.
“My Mom taught chemistry. Same deal.” She shrugged. “More to life than money. Except, all of a sudden, my installments on my college loan came due. I got my first job with an ag chemical company. Not doing chemistry, you understand.