Talk of the Town (13 page)

They returned, bubbling and adorable, most in dresses that Alice suspected would be their Easter finery. The first of the residents shuffled in, followed by wheelchairs pushed by smiling aides.

Alice put on the first CD of music she had prepared, turning it up a little louder than she normally would have. The director of the facility had suggested doing so, reminding Alice that many of the older folks had hearing difficulties.

The girls, suddenly shy, clumped together in a group, smiling and hanging back.

“I’m ready to trip the light fantastic,” one wizened little woman in a shiny red blouse declared.

To Alice’s astonishment, Maxwell moved forward and bent down so that he was close to her level. “May I have this dance, madam?” He held out his hand and the tiny woman placed her delicate palm in his.

Alice blinked back sudden tears at the sight.

And Maxwell looked over his shoulder and beckoned to the knot of self-conscious teens. “Come on, girls. Grab a partner. Let’s make this the best senior prom ever.”

Jane checked in another guest early Thursday evening, a thirty-something woman named Ellis Andin. She was tiny and blonde, and she practically vibrated with energy.

“I’d like to stay for two nights,” she told Jane in a thin, high voice that instantly brought visions of Tinker Bell to mind.

“Of course,” Jane said. She launched into her usual informative chat about breakfast hours, where to take other meals, local attractions, but Ellis shook her head.

“Breakfasts will be lovely, but I will take the other meals with a friend. And I don’t want you to be concerned on Friday night because I will be out all night.”

“All night?” Jane wanted to be sure she had not misunderstood.

Ellis nodded. “I’ll be going on an overnight camping trip that’s just been planned. We’re looking for Bigfoot. I’m sure you read about it in your local paper.”

“Looking for Bigfoot,” Jane repeated. “Oh yes, I read about it. Actually, my sister Alice is one of the two people who saw the footprints.”

“Oh!” Ellis looked even more animated, if that was possible. “I must speak with her. Get her impressions. So she was the woman with Ronald?”

“Ronald Simpson,” Jane confirmed. “Yes. You know Ronald?”

“No.” Ellis shook her head, sending blonde curls flying every which way. “I am acquainted with his wife Florence. She e-mailed us to report her findings, and I dropped everything to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Jane felt like a parrot, but this small woman was making her head spin.

“Yes. I am a member of the Sasquatch Society of America. We have investigators in every region of the country and when a sighting is reported, we mobilize to evaluate the validity of the claim.”

“I see. Florence e-mailed you, so here you are.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.” Ellis cocked her head. “I’m going to take my things up to my room. You needn’t come up with me. Then, if you would be so kind, I’d like to get directions to the Simpsons’ home. If you’re not familiar with their residence, I can call them and ask—”

“That’s all right,” Jane said. “I know Florence and Ronald quite well. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming, and I’ll write out directions for you.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Ellis vanished up the stairs.

Jane shook her head.
My dear
? She picked up the phone and dialed, common sense dictating that she confirm that Ellis Andin really was who she said she was before giving out the Simpson’s home information.

Florence, indeed, vouched for Ellis, so Jane promised to send the new guest over as soon as she was settled. In only a few minutes Ellis came downstairs to get the directions and head off on her mission. Alice came in the kitchen door soon after Ellis breezed out the front door.

“Hi, Alice,” Jane greeted her as she pulled some things from the refrigerator. “How did the prom go?”

“Oh, Jane, it was truly wonderful. Everyone—the residents, the staff, the girls, Maxwell—had a marvelous time!”

“Maxwell?”

“Oh yes,” Alice replied. “He was the hit of the afternoon. When he heard what the ANGELs were doing, he volunteered to help. He not only helped to decorate, but he kept the party going. I think half the ladies are in love with him. He was so sweet, gently guiding those elderly ladies around the floor. And he got even the shiest of the men talking.”

“My my, will wonders never cease?” Jane smiled as she put the finishing touches on a casserole.

“Well, actually, today is full of wonders. You’ll never believe what I heard at the Coffee Shop earlier,” Alice said.

“Would it have anything to do with a Bigfoot hunting trip?”

Alice stared at Jane. “It would. How did you find out?”

Jane laughed. “Now
you’re
the one who won’t believe it. We have a Bigfoot specialist from the Sasquatch Society of America staying here for the next two days.”

Louise stepped into the kitchen from the hallway just in time to hear the last sentence. She set down the loaf of bread she had purchased at Jane’s request and said slowly, “You are joking.”

Jane held up her right hand, palm out, as if taking an oath. “I swear it’s the truth.” Quickly, she went on to tell her sisters about Florence contacting the society and Ellis’ mission.

Then Alice recounted her adventure in the Coffee Shop that afternoon.

Louise sank into a kitchen chair. “These people are under a spell. It’s the only explanation.”

“Maybe someone put something in the water,” Jane suggested.

Alice snickered. “This really is crazy, isn’t it?” Then she frowned. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you—Fred and I got roped into going on this expedition tomorrow night. Maxwell’s coming too. I believe he thinks that it’ll be quite a lark.”

“Maybe for him it will be,” Jane said.

“Vera doesn’t know that she’s been volunteered yet,” Alice said.

“Oh my. I’d like to be a fly on the wall in the Humbert house tonight,” Jane said with a chuckle.

“As I mentioned, Maxwell’s quite excited about the camping trip,” Alice went on. “You know, he has told me a bit about his childhood. I’ll bet that Maxwell has never gone camping. Jane could be correct. This might be a grand adventure for a young man starved for any sort of normal interaction. Although interacting with Florence when she is on a mission hardly can be termed normal.”

“Amen to that,” Jane said.

The phone rang, and Louise answered. “Grace Chapel Inn, Louise speaking. May I help you?”

Jane saw her face change as she listened to the speaker at the other end. Her shoulders sagged, her mouth turned down and her eyes lowered.

“Yes,” she said. “No, Mr. Jervis, I’m so sorry to tell you that we have not found him yet.”

She listened some more, pressing her lips together. “Oh no,” she said. “We don’t blame you in the least. It could have happened to anyone. Wendell was—
is
the adventurous sort. We haven’t given up. It’s only been a bit over a week. He may be found yet… oh, you’re too kind. But no, truly, we don’t want you to get us another kitten. Although I appreciate the thought and I know my sisters will, also… yes, yes, of course we will give you a call…”

As she concluded the conversation, Jane said, “Oh, poor man. I feel so bad that he’s worrying about Wendell. I’m glad you reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, Louise.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” From the expression on her elder sister’s face, Jane was sure she was thinking that it had been her fault for getting annoyed with Wendell.

“Louise,” said Alice in a tone far more severe than she normally employed, “I do not give you permission to blame yourself for Wendell’s disappearance anymore.”

Louise and Jane both were so startled they turned and stared at Alice.

She winked.

And all three of them smiled.

“All right,” Louise said. “I am trying hard to let go of guilt. Really I am.”

“I hope so,” Jane said. “I told you before, I could have been the one that chased the little rascal off that table. The end result may have been the same.”

“We’re assuming Wendell had a reason for getting into that car,” Alice pointed out. “He’s a cat. He simply might have been curious and settled down for a nap. Can you imagine the surprise he got?”

Jane said, “You’re right. He very well might have hopped into Mr. Jervis’ car even if we’d fed him tuna that morning.”

On Friday morning, Jane, Ethel and Clothilda went into town. Ethel had a plan.

“We’ll go to all our Acorn Hill businesses and ask who knows any Moellers in the area,” she said enthusiastically. “Shopkeepers and public servants get to know scads of people. We can make a list so we don’t duplicate names. Then we can visit them to see if anyone knows any family history that might link them to Clothilda.”

“That’s a great idea,” Jane said. “I also made a list of Moeller names from the telephone book. We can compare it with the list we make today to be sure we don’t miss anyone. There are five families with the Moeller name in the area around Potterston and Acorn Hill.”

Clothilda was not quite as spry as Ethel, so Jane dropped the two off at the library, where they intended to start their search. Then she parked the car and joined them.

Ethel already was talking a mile a minute to Nia when Jane walked in. Clothilda stood at her side, beaming and nodding.

“Oh, I have several Moellers listed who have library cards,” Nia told them. “But Ethel, I cannot give out names and addresses of library patrons.”

Ethel frowned. “It’s not as if we’re terrorists, Nia. You know us personally.”

Nia shook her head firmly, her friendly smile still in place. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t.” Then she brightened. “I’ll tell you what I can do. I can contact all the Moellers and either give them your phone number or get their permission to give you their information. Would that help?”

Jane could see Ethel’s shoulders relax. “That would be a very acceptable alternative, if you don’t mind the extra work.”

Nia shrugged. “Not at all. I have to contact library patrons for many reasons, anyway, and it’s likely that some of these Moellers already are on my list to call.”

“Here.” Jane dug a small notepad out of her purse and wrote down Ethel’s telephone number. “This is how you can reach Ethel. I would give you the inn’s number so people could talk to Clothilda, but—”

“My English on the telephone is so not good,” Clothilda said earnestly. “Ethel will be much easier to speak.”

“Thank you, Jane,” said Ethel. “And thank you, Nia. We appreciate your help.”

The three women left the library and walked around the small town, stopping at various shops, the post office and other public buildings. In each place, they left Ethel’s contact information rather than requesting that any information be divulged. At the post office, the postmistress suggested that they place a notice on the public bulletin board in the lobby where the mailboxes were located. “Everybody reads that thing,” she promised.

“That’s a good idea,” Jane said. “There could be people with other surnames who have Moellers somewhere in their family tree.”

In the Good Apple Bakery, Clarissa Cottrell said, “Oh, I met someone the other week named Moeller. She just joined my art class. I’m starting watercolors,” Clarissa told her. “Never tried that medium but the other club members have encouraged me, so I’m giving it a whirl. Now what was that woman’s name?” she muttered to herself. Then she shrugged. “All I remember is the Moeller part. But we have a meeting coming up, so I’ll make a note to ask her.”

Jane held out one of the small notes on which she’d written the contact information. “Here. Please tell her that you know some folks doing genealogical research on the Moeller name and that they’d like to speak to her.”

Clarissa took the paper with a grunt of acknowledgment. “Good. Now,” she said, “surely you three can’t leave here without a little taste of something. What strikes your fancy?”

Chapter Twelve

O
n Friday evening, Alice had just dragged her sleeping bag downstairs in preparation for Florence’s “expedition” when she heard someone sneeze five times in rapid succession.

“God bless you!” she exclaimed as Maxwell came down behind the staircase. “Allergies?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never had them before. I think I may be catching something.” His voice was thick and nasal-sounding.

Alice looked at him closely as he came to the bottom of the steps. His eyes appeared dull, but he didn’t seem feverish.

“Vitamin C,” she suggested. “Try taking it several times a day. It may boost your immune system if you are catching something. If that doesn’t work, I have some over-the-counter allergy remedies you can try.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I had intended to accompany you on the expedition tonight, but I don’t believe I am feeling up to it. I was coming downstairs to tell you.”

“You should stay home,” Alice said. “It’s still quite cold at night. I have thermal clothing on, and I borrowed a sleeping bag from a church member who regularly camps and says this one will keep me warm down into single digits.”

Maxwell shivered, and Alice couldn’t tell whether it had been a chill or a reaction to the idea of sleeping outside in the cold. “
Brrr
. I’ll be thinking of you while I sleep in my warm bed,” he said as he climbed back up the stairs to his room.

“Thanks,” Alice called after him sarcastically. But secretly she was pleased. The young man seemed to be relaxing. She hadn’t heard him tease before.

Behind her, she heard Jane say, “Rats!”

“What’s wrong?” she asked her sister.

“There went our last lead.” Jane hung up the telephone at the registration desk. “Aunt Ethel and I have spoken with every family by the name of Moeller we could find in the area. Apparently, all of the names on our list are descended from the same couple who came over from Germany shortly before our Civil War.”

“Which is about a hundred years later than Clothilda’s ancestor, correct?” Alice said.

“Correct.” Jane put her hands on her hips. “We’re missing something. I can feel it, but I don’t know what it might be.”

“Why don’t you pray about it?” Alice suggested. “And then sleep on it? Maybe things will look clearer in the morning.”

“That’s a good suggestion.” Jane sighed. Then she grinned as she realized where Alice would be sleeping that night. “Maybe I’d better say a little prayer for you, as well.”

Alice smiled, shaking her head. “It surely couldn’t hurt.”

At 8:00
PM
, Alice and her fellow campers gathered in front of the inn. Along with Alice, Florence and Ronald were Fred Humbert and Vera. Ellis, the new inn guest, also was waiting, her sleeping bag in her arms.

Ellis had tried to corner Alice that morning after breakfast to ask questions about the footprints she had seen. Alice had given her the same information she’d shared with everyone else, but when the woman became more insistent with her questions, Alice had pleaded housework and escaped to the kitchen. Now she might have to fend off Ellis all night long.

Alice sighed.
Why, oh why, did I say yes to this?
It didn’t matter now, she reminded herself. She was stuck with no way out. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Hello, everyone.”

Her fellow campers returned various greetings.

Florence said, “I suppose you two already know each other,” and when Alice and Ellis nodded pleasantly at one another, “Vera, Fred, this is Ellis Andin, from the Sasquatch Society of America.”

“Hello, everyone,” Ellis said in her high, flutey voice.

Vera started. “The what?”

“The Sasquatch Society of America,” Florence repeated. “I invited her to visit Acorn Hill in hopes that she will be able to verify our sighting of the animal commonly known as Bigfoot.”

Fred rolled his eyes, but he was standing off to one side, and Alice was the only one to see him. Vera was silent, apparently too taken aback to formulate a response.

Florence cleared her throat. “I have appointed myself official recorder for this expedition. If you have any observations, see anything unusual, please call me immediately so that I can record it.” Alice noticed that Florence had a small, very costly looking video camera around her neck.

“Ronald and I set up two tents this afternoon,” Fred said, “so once we get a fire going we should be nice and toasty.”

The little party piled into Fred’s and Ronald’s vehicles for the short ride from the inn to the pond. The sky was dark by the time they arrived, and they unloaded their things and trooped back into the woods. At the far end of the pond was a clearing with a fire pit, used in the winter for bonfires to warm skaters. Earlier, Ronald and Fred had driven to the closest entry point and carried in the tents and camping supplies.

As they marched along the path, Ellis said, “So, Ronald, Alice, can you show me where the prints were and where you were when you saw them?”

Ronald, walking in front of Alice, turned and gave her a long-suffering glance. “They were over that way,” he said, pointing out the spot. “As for where we were, we were standing over them, practically.”

“So you could have inadvertently destroyed additional footprints?”

“I doubt it,” Alice said, recalling the afternoon. “The footprints crossed the path at an angle from one side to another, almost at a right angle to us but not quite. It would have had to be traveling on the path for us to have destroyed prints, because it was damp that day and none of us stepped off the path.”

“Ah! Very good.” Ellis sounded as if she would like to pat Alice on the head. “See there? I elicited quite a bit of detailed information from you.”

Alice felt annoyed, but then chided herself.
You are being silly. The poor woman hasn’t done anything to you
. Still she found the expedition a terrible waste of time.

“Oh, this is nice!” Vera called out.

Alice calmed herself as she looked in the direction Vera pointed.

“I brought some marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars along for s’mores tonight,” Vera told the group.

Alice laughed. “Just as long as you didn’t bring along any Girl Scouts!”

“No, just the six of us,” Florence said, very seriously. “Too many people might spook the Bigfoot.”

“Let’s get our bedrolls settled,” Fred proposed, “and start the fire.”

“Women over here.” Florence led the way to the larger of the two tents.

Stepping inside, Alice saw that there was plenty of room for four sleeping bags. Florence had procured air mattresses, which they quickly blew up, using a battery-operated pump. Vera hung a lantern from the center pole and turned it on so that there was a cozy glow in the small space.

Alice spread her sleeping bag on top of one of the mattresses and fluffed the pillow she’d rolled into the center of her sleeping bag. Vera did the same, and then she stepped to the windows and zipped closed the flaps that covered the screened squares.

Florence said, “What are you doing, Vera?”

“Shutting these windows,” Vera said, and there was a note in her voice that Alice knew meant that there would be no discussion. Vera was sweet and easygoing but she had a core of steel deep inside.

Florence apparently recognized the tone, too, because she turned away and busied herself preparing her bed.

When the interior of the tent was set up, Alice stepped outside. Fred and Ronald sat on one of the logs that formed a seating square around the fire, which they had started. There was a full moon and the little clearing was so bright Alice could see easily to pick up several sticks for roasting the marshmallows Vera was opening.

“This is lovely,” Vera said, inhaling deeply of the cool spring air. “A bit cold, but I think we’ll be plenty warm in our sleeping bags.”

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Alice accepted a marshmallow and pushed it onto one of the sticks she’d laid near the logs. “
Umm
, I love s’mores. It’s been some time since I have had these.”

“I’ve never had them before,” Ellis piped up. “What are they and how do we make them?”

“To make a s’more, you break a graham cracker in half,” Vera instructed as she demonstrated. “Put a couple of squares of a chocolate bar on each piece. Then toast a marshmallow, and make a sandwich of the two sections using the marshmallow as the middle filling.” She set aside her stick and took a big bite of hers. “I adore these. I think there’s a rule that Girl Scout troops have to make them any time they have a cookout or overnight camping trip.”

Alice laughed.

“They do look delicious,” Florence said. “I think I’ll try one.”

“Me too.” Ellis copied Florence and picked up a stick. “I never was a Girl Scout.”

“Hey, Vera, make me one of those, will you?” Fred said from his log on the far side of the fire.

Vera snorted. “You ask me nicely and
maybe
I will.”

Everyone laughed.

“So, Ellis,” Alice said, “why don’t you tell us about yourself and how you came to be involved in the Sasquatch organization?”

Ellis smiled happily across the fire at Alice, and Alice felt guilty for her earlier thoughts. “I have been a science geek all my life,” she said. “I was the girl in high school with the horn-rimmed glasses and a stack of books that weighed more than I did. You know, the one everyone went to for help on the chemistry test.”

“Oh yes,” Vera said. “I knew a girl like that. I might not have graduated if not for her.”

There were a few chuckles.

“My favorite subject was biology,” Ellis went on, “and I always was riveted by stories of fantastic creatures. I loved
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
. You know, because of the giant squid.”

“That story gave me the shivers,” Florence confessed.

“Not me,” Ellis said. “I read everything I could about giant squid, the Loch Ness monster, Bigfoot and every other unidentified creature ever mentioned. In college, I majored in biology, and one summer I had an internship at a place in South Carolina that cared for circus animals no one wanted anymore. One old man there used to tell a story about a creature he’d seen years ago, a man or an ape with long black hair that was taller than a human.”

“Sasquatch!” Florence leaned forward eagerly.

“One might draw that conclusion,” Ellis said, nodding at her approvingly. “Anyhow, I eventually became curious enough about his story to start researching other sightings of similar creatures. I discovered that there was hot debate about the existence of such animals.”

“That’s for sure,” Vera said to Alice in a meaningful undertone.

Florence glared at them across the fire, and Alice elbowed Vera. “Behave,” she whispered.

Ellis smiled at Vera. “Your reaction is perfectly understandable,” she said. “There are many people who do not believe these creatures exist. Years after the death of one man who had claimed to have filmed a sighting, people came forward, one insisting that he had made the Bigfoot suit worn in the film and another who said he was the one wearing the suit.”

“Is that the Patterson film?” Ronald asked.

“Yes.” Ellis sounded surprised. “Are you familiar with it?”

“I looked up some things after we found those tracks,” Ronald said, nodding.

“What’s the Patterson film?” Florence demanded. Alice thought that Florence sounded as if she wasn’t thrilled with Ronald’s knowing something she didn’t.

“It was made in 1967 near Yakima, Washington,” Ellis told them, “by two men who were hoping to create a film of Bigfoot. The segment clearly shows a large female on a gravel sandbar near a creek. The men had been on horseback but the one with the camera dismounted and ran toward the creature as he filmed. At that point, the creature turned and walked back into the forest.” Her eyes shone. “It is an extraordinary piece of film.”

“Is the film authentic?” Florence wanted to know.

“That is still being debated,” Ellis said.

“So is that sort of incident what led you to get involved with this society?” Alice asked. She really did not want to get into a debate about whether or not Bigfoot existed.

“Yes.” Ellis was diverted, as Alice had hoped. “I found this little group called the Sasquatch Society of America and started volunteering. They asked me to be on the board of directors a few years later and the organization has grown steadily ever since. We have investigators in almost every state now.”