Promised Land

Chapter 4

I had a sense, call it a hunch, that Shepard didn’t want to talk about his dealings with Hawk, or King Powers or anybody else. He wanted to talk about his wife.

“Your wife’s name is Pam, right?”

“Right.”

“Maiden name?”

“What difference does that make?”

“She might start using it when she took off.”

“Pam Neal.” He spelled it.

“Folks living?”

“No.”

“Siblings?”

He looked blank.

“Brothers or sisters,” I said.

“No. She’s an only child.”

“Where’d she grow up?”

“Belfast, Maine. On the coast, near Searsport.”

“I know where it is. She have friends up there she might visit?’‘

”No. She left there after college. Then her folks died. She hasn’t been back in fifteen years, I’d bet.“

”Where’d she go to college?“

”Colby.“

”In Waterville?“

”Yeah.“

”What year she graduate?“

”Nineteen fifty-four, both of us. College sweethearts.“

”How about college friends?“

”Oh, hell, I don’t know. I mean we still see a lot of people we went to school with. You think she might be visiting someone?“

”Well, if she ran off, she had to run somewhere. She ever work?“

He shook his head strongly. ”No way. We got married right after graduation. I’ve supported her since her father stopped.“

”She ever travel without you, separate vacations, that sort of thing?“

”No, Christ, she gets lost in a phone booth. I mean she’s scared to travel. Anywhere we’ve ever gone, I’ve taken her.“

”So if you were her, no work experience, no travel skills, no family other than this one, and you ran off, where would you go?“

He shrugged.

”She take money,“ I said.

”Not much. I gave her the food money and her house money on Monday and she took off Thursday, and she’d already done the food shopping. She couldn’t a had more than twenty bucks.“

”Okay, so we’re back to where could she go. She needed help. There’s not a lot you can do on twenty bucks, What friends could she have gone to?“

”Well, I mean most of her friends were my friends too, you know. I mean I know the husband and she knows the wife. I don’t think she could be hiding out anywhere like that. One of the guys would tell me.“

”Unmarried friend?“

”Hey, that’s a problem, I don’t think I know anybody who isn’t married.“

”Does your wife?“

”Not that I know. But, hell, I don’t keep track of her every move. I mean she had some friends from college, I don’t think ever married. Some of them weren’t bad either.“

”Could you give me their names, last known address, that sort of thing?“

”Jesus, I don’t know. I’ll try, but you gotta give me a little time. I don’t really know too much about what she did during the day. I mean maybe she wrote to some of them, I don’t know.“

”Any who live around here?“

”I just don’t know, Spenser. Maybe Millie might know.“

”Your daughter?“

”Yeah, she’s sixteen. That’s old enough for them to have girl talk and stuff, I imagine. Maybe she’s got something you could use. Want me to get her?“

”Yeah, and old phone bills, letters, that kind of thing, might be able to give us a clue as to where she’d go. And I’ll need a picture.“

”Yeah, okay. I’ll get Millie first, and I’ll look for that stuff while you’re talking with her.“ He hadn’t come right home and done it like I told him. Maybe I lacked leadership qualities.

Millie didn’t look happy to talk with me. She sat at the table and turned her father’s empty coffee cup in a continuous circle in front of her. Shepard went off to collect the phone bills and letters. Millie didn’t speak.

”Any thoughts on where your mother might be, Millie?“

She shook her head.

”Does that mean you don’t know or you won’t say.“

She shrugged and continued to turn the coffee cup carefully.

”You want her back?“

She shrugged again. When I turn on the charm they melt like butter.

”Why do you think she ran off?“

”I don’t know,“ she said, staring at the cup. Already she was starting to pour out her heart to me.

”If you were she,“ I said, ”would you run off?“

”I wouldn’t leave my children,“ she said and there was some emphasis on the my.

”Would you leave your husband?“

”I’d leave him,“ she said and jerked her head toward the door her father had gone through.

”Why?“

”He’s a jerk.“

”What’s jerky about him?“

She shrugged.

”Work too hard? Spend too much time away from the family?“

She shrugged again.

”Honey,“ I said. ”On the corner I hang out, when you call someone a jerk you’re supposed to say why, especially if it’s family.“

”Big deal,“ she said.

”It’s one of the things that separate adults from children,“ I said.

”Who wants to be an adult?“

”I been both and adult is better than kid.“

”Sure,“ she said.

”Who’s your mother’s best friend?“ I said.

She shrugged again. I thought about getting up and throwing her through the window. It made me feel good for a minute, but people would probably call me a bully.

”You love your mother?“

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and gave a sigh. ”Course,“ she said and looked back at the circles she was making with the coffee cup. Perhaps I could throw it through the window instead.

”How do you know she’s not in trouble?“

”I don’t know.“

”How do you know she’s not kidnapped?“

”I don’t know.“

”Or sick someplace with no one to help her.“ Ah, the fertility of my imagination. Maybe she was the captive of a dark mysterious count in a castle on the English moors. Should I mention to the kid a fate worse than death?

”I don’t know. I mean my father just said she ran away. Isn’t he supposed to know?“

”He doesn’t know. He’s guessing. And he’s trying to spare you in his jerky way from worse worry.“

”Well, why doesn’t he find out?“

”Ahhh, oh giant of brain, come the light. What the hell do you think he’s hired me for?“

”Well, why don’t you find out.“ She had stopped turning the coffee cup.

”That’s what I’m trying to do. Why don’t you help? So far your contribution to her rescue is four I-don’t-knows and six shrugs. Plus telling me your old man’s a jerk but you don’t know why.“

”What if she really did run away and doesn’t want to come back?“

”Then she doesn’t come back. I almost never use my leg irons on women anymore.“

”I don’t know where she is.“

”Why do you suppose she left?“

”You already asked me that.“

”You didn’t answer.“

”My father got on her nerves.“

”Like how?“

”Like, I don’t know. He was always grabbing at her, you know. Patting her ass, or saying gimme a kiss when she was trying to vacuum. That kind of stuff. She didn’t like it.“

”They ever talk about it?“

”Not in front of me.“

”What did they talk about in front of you?“

”Money. That is, my old man did. My old lady just kind of listened. My old man talks about money and business all the time. Keeps talking about making it big. Jerk.“

”Your father ever mistreat your mother?“

”You mean hit her or something?“

”Whatever.“

”No. He treated her like a goddamned queen, actually. That’s what was driving her crazy. I mean he was all over her. It was gross. He was sucking after her all the time. You know?“

”Did she have any friends that weren’t friends of your father’s?“

She frowned a little bit, and shook her head. ”I don’t think so. I don’t know any.“

”She ever go out with other men?“

”My mother?“

”It happens.“

”Not my mother. No way.“

”Is there anything you can think of, Millie, that would help me find your mother?’‘

“No, nothing. Don’t you think I’d like her back. I have to do all the cooking and look out for my brother and sister and make sure the cleaning lady comes and a lot of other stuff.”

“Where’s your brother and sister?”

“At the beach club, the lucky stiffs. I have to stay home for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, my father says I have to be the hostess and stuff till my mother comes home. I’m missing the races and everything.”

“Life’s hard sometimes,” I said. She made a sulky gesture with her mouth. We were silent for a minute.

“The races go on all week,” she said. “Everybody’s there. All the summer kids and everybody.”

“And you’re missing them,” I said. “That’s a bitch.”

“Well, it is. All my friends are there. It’s the biggest time of the summer.”

So young to have developed her tragic sense so highly.

Shepard came back in the room with a cardboard carton filled with letters and bills. On top was an 8 1/2 x 11 studio photo in a gold filigree frame. “Here you go, Spenser. This is everything I could find.”

“You sort through any of it?” I asked.

“Nope. That’s what I hired you for. I’m a salesman, not a detective. I believe in a man doing what he does best. Right, Mill?”

Millie didn’t answer. She was probably thinking about the races.

“A man’s gotta believe in something,” I said. “You know where I’m staying if anything comes up.”

“Dunfey’s, right? Hey, mention my name to the maitre d’ in The Last Hurrah, get you a nice table.”

I said I would. Shepard walked me to the door. Millie didn’t. “You remember that. You mention my name to Paul over there. He’ll really treat you good.”

As I drove away I wondered what races they were running down at the beach club.