CALL MAMA (15 page)

Near the cabin in Montana, an elderly man sat listening to the radio report. His wife commented on a news item.

“Poor kid, that Lucy Mears. I wonder if she is still alive. Her folks must be frantic with worry.”

“Yeah, strange business; no ransom demand and her mom's rich; strange indeed. Honey, I'd best get to the cabin, been asked to have it ready for tomorrow. Beats me why anyone would want to travel in this weather. It's the worst winter we've had in many years.”

For a small payment, Gus and Ellie Stiller had looked after the cabin for several years, preparing it when required for visitors. It was easy enough for them to keep it stocked with groceries and logs. They seldom saw anyone occupy it and had clear instructions never to disturb the occupants. The couple led a quiet life, but in their youth they enjoyed all that Montana had to offer. Both were excellent skiers. Gus had helped with dog sled treks, while Ellie was involved in festival events.

“Who's coming this time?”

“I've been told it's some writer who wants peace and quiet to finish a book, been told not to disturb.”

“Best get going before it gets dark then… mind the icy path.”

The following evening Gus studied the menacing storm.

“Hey, Ellie, over there. Some kind of a vehicle on the track near the cabin… looks like it's been abandoned. I'm going to have me a look-see.”

Returning home, he told of his findings.

“Big campervan, New York plates… has a burst tyre, it won't be going nowhere for a while. Strange though, I'm sure I saw three sets of footprints… hard to tell though in the snow.”

Next morning, Ellie stood by her kitchen window, binoculars focused across towards the cabin.

“Look, honey,” she called to her sleepy husband. “I'm sure as hell certain I saw a young girl look out that window.”

She handed the binoculars to her husband, who adjusted them and studied the cabin for some time, before commenting.

“Who would have a kid up here in this weather? Except…”

“You thinking' what I'm thinking'…? Could that be that missing kid? Hey, don't expect it is, miles from her home. Honey, I'd never forgive myself if I ignored this and then heard something awful had happened to any kid. Could be quite innocent, but, hell, I'm gonna call the police. Damn! No signal and I ain't driving to Polson. We'll just keep an eye open, see what transpires over the next few days. The kid's moving from window to window, but she didn't see me.”

***

Superintendent Benson took a call from a colleague in Montana.

“Sir, we've had a call from a member of the public who thinks he might have located your missing kid in Montana. Unfortunately, the weather here played havoc with signals, the call has only just reached me.”

He proceeded to relay what Gus Stiller had told him.

“It may be a false sighting, but we sent some officers to the area. It was hellish difficult for them to reach it, but the cabin in question was empty. There were signs of recent occupancy. My team swept the place for prints, they are en route to your lab. I sent a chopper out to have a look around but had to recall it due to weather, but I've alerted other states to look for a large campervan with New York plates… with instructions not to impound it, but to watch where it finally stops. Hey, and I made some more enquiries. You will be interested in this info.”

Benson was horrified to hear who owned the cabin.

“Well, I'll be damned… I'll get a team from N.Y. to visit the owner in question. Much appreciated, Officer. We have had several false sightings, but we check them all. This might just be the one!”

Meanwhile, a garage owner at Wisconsin, an elderly, sprightly man, contacted local police when he became suspicious of a customer who had brought his vehicle for repair. He regaled his memory of the event.

“It was some weeks ago now,” he mused. “A guy drove in with a top-of-the-range campervan, said the engine was kind of dragging a bit and asked if I could have a look at it. It took me a couple of hours to sort out. He insisted on sticking around. I told him there was a coffee shop nearby where he would be out of the weather, but he wanted to stay and watch. I thought it kind of odd, but, what the heck, he was paying me to do the work and in wintertime I take all I can get. He didn't speak much. I guess he was foreign, Polish, maybe. I asked what he was doing driving such a vehicle in this hellish weather, but he was a bit reluctant to make conversation… said something about delivering it to a friend. Anyhow, I fixed the van and he took off. I noticed the plates, have it written here, got to keep good records, you know… New York plates, they were. Couple of days later I sees the guy driving past the garage. I waved over, but he seemed to ignore me… maybe he was concentrating on the road. Conditions weren't too good… now, the odd thing… I was sure I saw a kid, a young girl, look out from behind a window screen. Hey, it was just a glimpse… never thought much about it, just thought it odd to have a kid out of school and travelling along dangerous roads… wasn't till weeks later when I saw something on TV about a missing kid, I remembered the incident and called you guys. Hope I've not wasted your time or left it way too late.”

“No way, sir, have you done that. In fact, you might just have given us valuable information. We are grateful for your observations. Someone will be in touch later; meanwhile, take this number, it will get you straight to the detective leading the enquiry, should you remember anything else, however small.”

Unaware of the melee surrounding them, Lucy and her companions left the cabin and continued their long journey, retracing their route. Due to her agitated state, Zelda had given her a mild sedative, which lulled the girl to sleep in the now very familiar campervan.

***

After a difficult journey, Lucy, free from sedation for several days, became more aware of her plight. She was extremely weary from travel and was relieved to hear Zelda proclaim, “Ten more minutes, Lucy, and all will be made clear to you. We have arrived.”

The campervan turned into a driveway, which curved through an avenue of trees, coming to a halt in front of a large colonial-style house. An old sleepy dog stretched, raised itself up from its comfortable position and, tail wagging, approached the visitors. Zelda, first out, patted the dog, which snuggled up to her, enjoying being reunited with a familiar face.

“Hey there, Bud.”

Kristof helped Lucy down from her prison for the last time and escorted her to the front door, which opened to reveal a man standing there awaiting their arrival.

“George!” hollered Lucy as she threw herself into his arms and succumbed to pent-up emotions suppressed for so long. She cried in his arms as the floodgates opened, tears flowing like an unstoppable tap. Lucy tried to speak; only sobs came out.

“Hush, Lucy, everything will be explained to you now. There's someone who wants to meet you. You'd best go freshen up first.”

George hugged the weeping child until her sobs began to ease. He looked gaunt and pale, the past months having transformed him from a healthy robust man to a shadow of his former self. His eyes were red with constant weeping. He visibly relaxed as he held Lucy, knowing that soon their ordeal would be over.

“Zelda will take you to your room and stay with you until you are sent for. Don't worry, honey, everything will be fine and you'll soon be home. You've no idea how pleased I am to see you. We have so much to talk about and explain, but now freshen up. It will help you feel better.”

Zelda, arm around the whimpering child, led her through an exquisite entrance hall: a circular area, ornately decorated with silk and gold leaf wall hangings. A few tasteful Chippendale pieces set between statuettes mounted on Doric pillars set a tone of elegance and wealth. She led the girl up an elaborate Mediterranean-style staircase to the first floor into a tastefully furnished bedroom, which Zelda stated had been decorated expressly for her stay.

“Who lives here? Whose house is this? Why am I here? I want to call Mama.”

“Soon, child, soon,” said Zelda, leading the child to where a set of designer clothes was spread out for her approval.

“The shower room is in there. Go freshen up and change clothes.”

When Lucy reappeared, she seemed calmer, accepting her fate with a hope that she would soon be freed from this nightmare.

A tray of tempting food was set on a little table by the bay window affording stunning views over manicured gardens. Lucy ate, not from hunger but from habit. Zelda fussed about, humming to herself, relieved to have come to the end of a journey that had been undertaken in difficult circumstances. A knock came at the door and Zelda was instructed to escort the young guest to the master suite.

“Lucy, dragi dijete, baby, come with me to meet my boss.”

Zelda led Lucy to a room in another wing of the house. She kept her arm around the shaking girl for comfort. Lucy took the room in at a glance; her mouth opened in amazement.

“My cello! My cello!” she cried as she spotted the instrument by the window recess. She almost ran to it but was halted by a soft, almost inaudible voice coming from an enormous bed.

“Not yet, child, be patient. Come here.”

Lucy had been unaware of anyone in the bed, so enthralled was she to be reunited with her cello.

“Come over here, my dear. Oh my beloved Francesca!”

“No, you're mistaken, my name is Lucy Mears. I'm not your Francesca and I demand to go home. I don't know you or your Francesca.”

Lucy had never seen anyone so thin, so skeletal, and so close to death. The woman in the bed appeared dwarfed by pillows and fine bedcovers, which encased her small, pathetic frame.

“I know who you are, my dear. Please excuse a confused old lady. Come, sit by my bed while I explain everything to you. I am your great-aunt. I am Anna. Your grandmother whom you never knew was my darling baby sister, my Francesca, my dear, only sister, cruelly taken from me by your hateful mother.”

“But my mother is not hateful, well, she's—”

“Ssh, child, I've not much time left, humour an old lady and listen to my ramblings. I reared Francesca when our parents died together in a selfish manner; I won't go into that, and you are too young. We were devoted to each other. She was beautiful; you are so like her, my dear, so similar you almost took my breath away when you came into the room, so like my darling Francesca.”

The old woman coughed, spluttered and gasped for breath. A nurse, whom Lucy hadn't noticed, came across from the opposite side of the room to administer medication to her patient.

“You must rest, Anna,” implored the nurse.

“Later, Rita, later. I'll have plenty of time to rest when I'm gone.” The withered old lady attempted a laugh.

“Yes, my dear, my Francesca was beautiful. She fell in love with your grandfather Simon. What a handsome couple they made! What fun we had planning the wedding; no expense was spared. We were wealthy, Francesca and I, your grandfather too. Only the best was good enough for their wedding; ‘the society wedding of the year,' reported the papers.”

Rita came forward to see to her patient who halted her with a wave of her bony hand.

“My heart burst with pride to see them so happy together, so made for each other, so in love.”

She fumbled in a drawer, but too weak to open it she asked Lucy to retrieve a picture for her.

“These are your grandparents, my dear. I want you to have it.”

Lucy looked at the picture and inhaled deeply.

“That could be me!” she gasped.

“Yes, my dear, so alike, so beautiful! She was musical too, like you, she loved her piano. I keep it here with me where I can imagine her sitting playing to me.”

Lucy looked in the direction Anna pointed. There at the other end of the room was a beautiful Steinway baby grand.

“You may touch it, dear.”

Lucy looked at Zelda for confirmation. Zelda nodded, saying, “Go ahead, Lucy, play for us.”

Lucy fingered the baby grand, caressing it lovingly, opened the lid and tapped the keys.

“Perfectly tuned,” she said. “It's a beautiful instrument. I have one at home, but this is awesome.”

“Why don't you play for me? There's music on the table.”

While Lucy looked through the music, Anna tried to raise herself up in bed to allow a better view. Zelda helped Nurse Rita lift the frail lady as tenderly as they could, pain etched on the patient's face.

Lucy chose to play
Music of the Night
from one of her favourite modern composers.

Soon she was lost in the music, the past weeks temporarily forgotten as her nimble fingers moved skilfully and expertly over the keys. A calmness, not experienced for some time, filled the room. Her little audience was enthralled. Not a sound was heard save that of the shallow breathing of the sick lady. Zelda, never having heard Lucy play, wiped tears from her eyes as she listened to the child who had shared her life for the past months and whom she had grown fond of bring the instrument to life. Lucy came to the end of the piece, closed the lid and sat quietly for a few minutes, before turning round to her relative whose eyes were filled with tears. The child approached her aunt, took hold of her hand, looked into her sad eyes and, in spite of misgivings, bent forward and kissed her forehead. Rita gave her patient a few sips of water, dried the tears from the sunken cheeks and suggested Anna rest a while.

“I have so much more to explain to the dear child,” she said, “and so little time to do it, but I do feel tired. Lucy, my little one, go with Zelda, have dinner and a restful night. We will talk tomorrow.”

With that, the old lady nodded off.

Zelda, quiet and more composed than she had been for some time, led Lucy from the sickroom, downstairs to a comfortable dining room where they were serving an evening meal. They ate in silence.

After the meal, Lucy spoke out. “When can I call Mama?”

“As soon as your aunt gives permission. There is so much she has to tell you. You know she is dying, don't you?”

“Yeah, but I've never seen anyone so ill before, it doesn't frighten me. Where is George? I haven't seen him since I arrived; he can take me home. I need to talk with him.”

“He and Kristof have an errand to do for your aunt; he will return soon.”

Back in her room, Zelda assured Lucy she would sleep nearby.

“I have been instructed to lock you in, my dragi dijete; no harm will come to you.”

They could not allow Lucy freedom to roam, partly because she could find herself totally lost in the vast building, but more importantly, she could come across one of the many phones. Lucy spent a restless night, going over everything that she had learned since coming to this house and eventually fell asleep, emotionally drained. Zelda, carrying a breakfast tray, wakened her.

“It is such a pleasant day to walk in the garden. We shall take a stroll when you are ready. Wrap up well.”

Lucy marvelled at the peaceful setting of the stunning gardens, the lily pond, the summerhouse covered in snow and the spectacular views beyond.

“My aunt must be very rich, richer than my mother. I've only seen places like this in the movies.”

“She is extremely wealthy, but you know, dragi, money does not always bring happiness.”

Bud, the old dog, meandered after them, stopping often to sniff the air, have his ears rubbed and amble on with his companions. Zelda showed her young charge around the vast estate, until summoned indoors. Returning to the warmth of the house, Lucy was once more called to her great-aunt's suite to learn more of the reason behind her captivity.