Chasing Shadows (13 page)

“I forgave you before you started talking,” he said. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me over a bit and kissed me, so I figured I'd managed the luscious look after all.

We went into the house then and Mom and Dad put on this big act to embarrass me, only it didn't work because I was so happy.

“Shelby? Is that you dear?” Mom started. She squinted as though she was straining to see me. “Randall, can you tell if it's her?”

“Why, I think it is, Darlene,” he said. “I'm not a hundred percent sure, though. It's so long since I've seen her.”

“You saw me
yesterday
,” I pointed out.

“What? The back of your head in the hallway doesn't count.”

“You've been on the fly ever since school let out for the summer,” Mom complained. “Why, we never see you
at all
.”

“I was going through the photo albums earlier; made me kind of nostalgic,” Dad agreed.

“You two are weird,” I observed. “Anyway, what's for dinner?”

“Well, actually, we've already eaten,” Mom said. “We have plans with Joy and Terry this evening. But there's honey garlic chicken and a vegetable rice dish in the oven, so you two just go ahead whenever you want.”

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” I said.

After they'd gone I got the food out of the oven and took it into the dining room to put it on the table. To my surprise, the table was already set with our good dishes and there was a pair of candles as well as a vase of flowers in the centre.

“Hey, this is cool,” Greg said coming in behind me. He lit the candles with the matches Mom had left out and we turned out the light and sat down to eat.

It was pretty romantic, really. For a while, I even stopped thinking of ways I could persuade Greg to check out the house where the guy he'd followed lived.

But only for a while.

“I must be crazy.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!” I hissed, though there was no particular reason to be quiet. We were sitting in the car, parked along the street just beyond an evergreen hedge. It bordered the yard around a little white bungalow, which was the house Greg had followed the guy to from The Steak Place.

“Tell me again just exactly what it is that we're looking for?” Greg said.

“Signs that there's something fishy going on in here,” I answered impatiently. “Or, if the guy comes out, we can see where he goes.”

“Don't you think we're going to attract attention if we sit here for any length of time?”

I hadn't thought of that, but he was absolutely right.

“Besides, suppose Nadine actually
is
being held in
there,” Greg said. “It's not as if someone's going to let her come to the front door and wave.”

“Maybe one of us should go ask to use the phone or something,” I said.

“Good idea. How about you, since this guy has only seen you at work who knows how many times?”

“I've only been in the same room with him twice, and he never paid the least bit of attention to me either time,” I said, certain he'd never recognize me. “But anyway, if that's your worry,
you
could go.”

“Shelby, this isn't the best thoughtout plan you've ever come up with. Think about it. If I went to the door and asked to use the phone, one of two things would happen. They'd tell me to get lost, which could mean they have something to hide
or
that they don't want total strangers waltzing though their house. Or, they'd let me make a call. And that wouldn't prove a thing either.”

“Shhhhh!” I said for the second time. “Someone's coming!”

Sure enough, the side door was opening. My heart quickened when I saw that it was our suspect.

“There he is!” I gasped.

“Yeah, there he is.” Greg sounded disappointed.

“Try to keep your excitement under control,” I said.

“Well, hon, what exactly do you think we're going to do now? Get out of the car and walk down the street after him?
That
wouldn't look suspicious. Or drive beside him?”

“I'm thinking,” I said. “Give me a sec.”

“It only takes you a second to come up with a plan?” He smirked. “That explains a lot.”

“Oh, I know!” I said, punching him on the arm for his last comment. “We'll drive ahead of him, and you can let me out somewhere that he can't see me. Then I'll walk real slow until he passes me. He'll never suspect I'm following him if I'm ahead of him to start out.”

“That's not bad,” Greg admitted, “but what will I be doing in the meantime?”

“You can drive around here and cross streets, like you're trying to find a specific place or something. He'd have no reason to think we're connected.”

“Okay,” Greg agreed slowly, “but don't get too close to him, and if he goes into a building somewhere, you
don't go in
. Walk past it
no matter what
. Promise?”

I agreed and he started the motor. We found a perfect place for him to let me out, a big, old, closed-up Victorian-style house with a circular driveway that went around behind. I slipped out of the car at the back of the house and hurried out to the street. The suspect was still a ways back.

I sauntered along, wondering if Greg had come back out or if he was waiting for the guy to pass the house. He hadn't driven by yet, but I didn't suppose it mattered as long as he was somewhere nearby and would be checking on me regularly.

I sensed rather than heard the suspect approaching, moving up behind on my left. He passed on the outside, closest to the road, and barely glanced at me as he went by.

But then, he paused. I saw the shift in the smooth movement of his steps, so I had a feeling of what was coming before it happened.

He didn't quite stop just then, but he did slow down enough that I'd have had to stop completely to avoid him. Then he turned and looked directly at me.

My knees nearly gave out, which made the next couple of steps I took look a lot like drunken lurches. It was all I could do not to turn and run off screaming for Greg. How I managed to keep myself from it I have no idea.

“Hello, miss,” he said. By then he had stopped and he stood facing me.

Where was Greg?

“Hi,” I said, hoping I sounded natural and not scared to death, which I was. I could picture him grabbing me, hauling me off into a hedge, and slitting my throat.

“Don't be alarmed,” he said reassuringly as he took a step closer.

Alarmed
? I just felt like I might wet my pants, is all. I tried to look around for Greg without making it obvious what I was doing. On the other hand, maybe I should make it obvious. If he knew I wasn't alone and entirely at his mercy, he might not be so quick to
carry out whatever fiendish plan was forming in his demented head.

“Don't you work at The Steak Place?”

“Huh?” I'd been
so sure
he'd never noticed me there. Wrong.

“I was just asking … I thought you worked at the new restaurant downtown.”

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

“I thought I recognized you.” He smiled, held his hand out, and said, “I'm Paul Edwards. I didn't mean to startle you.”

Numbly, I shook his hand and mumbled my name.

“I just,” he looked embarrassed suddenly, “I was wondering if you might be able to tell me …” He cleared his throat and avoided my eyes. “That is, I was just curious, one of the waitresses there, the younger woman … well, I haven't seen her the last few times I've been in, and I was wondering if she might be sick or anything.”

“Are you a friend of hers?” I asked, summoning my wits the best I could.

“No, no. Goodness, I'm a good deal older than she is. I was just, that is, I was … er, the thing is, she reminds me of someone, so I happened to notice her. And I was just hoping she's not ill or anything like that.”

“She reminds you of someone?” I felt suddenly bold and brave and ready to ask him anything that came to mind. “Do you mind me asking who?”

“My sister.” A troubled look passed over his eyes. “At least, my sister when she was that age. That's some years ago.”

“How old is your sister now?” I asked.

“Well, she's not … you see … that is, she's no longer with us.”

“She died?”

“Yes. An accident back when we lived in the city. She was probably close to the same age as the girl in the restaurant at the time. The resemblance is quite striking.”

“
That's
why you stare at her!” I blurted.

“That's why I … oh, my … I hadn't realized it was that obvious … oh, my goodness, I feel just terrible. She must think … why, I can't imagine what she thinks.” His face had turned crimson.

“Shelby!”

The sound of my name startled me so much I nearly jumped out of my skin. Well, not really, I guess. It felt like I might, though. I whirled to see that Greg had pulled up beside the sidewalk and was leaning across looking out the passenger window.

“Oh, hi, Greg.” I managed a weak smile, which I hoped would tell him everything was okay.

“Want a lift to your place?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure. Just a sec.” I turned back to face Mr. Edwards.

“I'll explain when I see her again,” I promised. “But the truth is, she's kind of disappeared, so I don't know when that will be.”

“
Disappeared
?”

The shock on his face sure looked genuine. In fact, everything he'd said had the ring of truth to it. Not just what he'd said, either, but the way he'd said it.

I filled him in briefly, trying to downplay my worries and reassure him that the police thought she was fine. Still, I could tell he was disturbed by the news. He told me that he'd pray for her, and he sounded totally sincere.

“Well,” I said to Greg after I'd told him all about the conversation I'd just had, “that was kind of scary, but way worth it. At least I can clear one suspect off my list.”

“So, who does that leave?”

“I think maybe I'd better focus on her ex-boyfriend, Leo.”

“What's your next move then?”

“That's the problem,” I sighed. “I have no idea.”

Greg and I were sitting at the dining room table, talking over our strategy for how to find out where Leo lives, when it hit me. We'd gone through my notebook again, though it seemed like a total waste of time, and all of a sudden, a connection I'd missed popped into my head.

I jumped up as the significance became clear.

“Forget Leo,” I said, “because it wasn't him.”

“Huh?” Greg blinked in confusion.

I couldn't blame him one bit, since I'd just been going on and on about how essential it was that we focus on Leo — because everyone knows it's usually the spouse. I know that Leo and Nadine weren't married, but a boyfriend is the next closest thing to a spouse, so it put him in the same category.

“It's not Leo,” I repeated, snatching up the notebook
again. I flipped back a couple of pages and stuck my finger on an item that I'd written there on the night I'd been in Nadine's apartment.

“This proves he's innocent.”

Greg read the note then gave me a questioning look that sort of suggested he was wondering if I'd lost my mind altogether.

“See, I checked out the spot on Nadine's floor. It was pop. And it was sticky.”

“Yeah?”

“So, I just remembered, she told me Leo
never
drinks pop. He even used to growl at her when she did, so there's no way it's his.”

“So? It's probably hers.”

“Nope. That's what I missed. Whoever was in her apartment — whoever took her — almost certainly has to be the person who spilled that pop.”

“But you just said she drank pop sometimes.”

“Yes, but only diet pop. She told me that specifically.”

“So?”

“It just occurred to me that it's the
sugar
in pop that makes it sticky. The pop that was spilled on her floor was really sticky, so it couldn't have been hers. Diet cola has no sugar in it.”

“Well then, if you're right about this, we're back to where we started,” Greg said. “You've eliminated the two best suspects you had.”

“Yeah, I know.” I was looking at the notebook again, wondering what else had slid right by. Maybe there were other things that carried meaning I just hadn't seen.

“It might be time, Shelby,” Greg went on, “for you to consider the idea that there really
hasn't
been a crime committed. It seems, with the two most likely people cleared, that you might want to take another look at the whole thing. My guess is that the police are probably right. Nadine went off, either alone or with a friend, willingly. I bet she's somewhere having a great time while you're torturing yourself worrying about her.”

“I don't know,” I said slowly. “It's not like I
want
to think that anything bad has happened to her, you know. I just can't seem to shake the conviction that there's something dreadfully wrong.”

He sighed and lapsed into silence as I continued rereading through the notebook. The one thing that seemed to nag at me at the moment was the so-called haunted apartment that the landlady had talked about. How that tied in was beyond me, but I decided I was going to trust my instincts.

“I need to go back to the apartment building,” I told Greg. “I'm not sure why, but this whole business of a ghost in apartment D is bothering me.”

“Okay,” he said, picking up the car keys. For some reason I'd been expecting an objection, so it threw me off a bit that he agreed so readily.

As we drove toward the building I found myself picturing what might have happened in Nadine's living room — some kind of struggle that ended with the spilled pop. I vaguely wondered if it was possible she'd managed to spill it on purpose, to leave a clue behind, hoping someone would understand what it meant.