The Burnt House

29

I MMEDIATELY AFTER THE article was published, the tips started pouring in, requiring someone to manage the phones full-time. The calls were vast and varied. It was someone’s long-lost daughter, it was someone’s long-lost sister, it was a friend of a friend who moved to France and disappeared, it was Aunt Janice or Cousin Ellie. The names were duly written down and checked out. Sometimes Aunt Janice was alive and well. Just as many times, Cousin Ellie could not be located and was put on a checklist.

Do you have a picture of her?

A photograph was sent via e-mail. Receiving the image, the detective in charge would immediately notice that the two people looked nothing alike and that there was a thirty-year age difference.

I don’t think this is your cousin Ellie, but we’ll certainly keep it in mind.

Then there were the kooks. Jane Doe was actually Gamma-Globulin Moonbeam, an alien from outer space who was sent from Alpha Centauri to infiltrate Earth. The best one that Wanda got was that Jane Doe was a reincarnation of Gucci, a woman’s beloved pet Maltese who had met her untimely demise by running across the street just as a Porsche Boxster turned the corner and ran a stop sign.

All the press attention focused on Jane Doe did a fine job riling up Farley Lodestone.

“You got a woman who’s been dead for thirty years getting more paper space than my daughter, who’s only been missing for a few months,” he yelled at Decker.

“Farley, no one has forgotten about Roseanne-”

“That’s damn well only because I call you all the time!”

“No, it’s because we’re committed to the investigation of your daughter,” Decker said. “We’re not just sitting with our hands under our butts, we’ve gone through her phone and credit-card records at least a half-dozen times. We’ve called everyone she’s called up in the last year. We went up to San Jose and talked to people she knew up there-”

“San Jose is a total waste of time. You know that bastard did it.”

“Farley, we pulled a search warrant and inspected every wall, floor, and fiber in your daughter’s condo. If something happened to Roseanne, it didn’t happen there. We spent days tracking down Ivan’s old car and went over that forensically inside and out and we didn’t find anything. We’re reinterviewing people at the condo to see if they suddenly remember something. We’re going over our notes. So far, we don’t have the smoking gun, we don’t have circumstantial evidence, we don’t even have a crime scene. Even so, we’re not giving up.”

Lodestone didn’t answer.

“Are you still there?” Decker asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. It just pisses me off that you’re spending all your time looking into a corpse instead of looking for my daughter.”

Roseanne wasn’t Decker’s only case. Neither was Jane Doe. At the moment, he was juggling thirty detectives and hundreds of cases. What could Decker say to convince the man that he doing the best he could?

The answer was nothing.

And if he, God forbid, was in the same situation as Farley Lodestone, he’d probably feel the same way.

“Farley, all I can tell you is I’m doing whatever I can.”

“Well, it ain’t enough!”

“I hear you, Farley. I know you’re frustrated-”

“I’m pissed!”

“I can’t say that I blame you. I wish I had more news to tell you-”

Lodestone hung up on him.

Decker rolled his eyes and slammed the phone back into the cradle. He was doing all he could, but Farley was right. It wasn’t enough.

Failure sucked.

DAY SEVEN AFTER Rusty Delgado’s article was published, Marge took a phone call regarding Jane Doe that sounded like something more than hope. She snapped her fingers and got Scott Oliver’s attention, mouthing, “Get Decker.” A minute later the lieutenant was on the line. He introduced himself and Marge told the caller to repeat her story.

“Like I told the sergeant, my name is Cathie Alvarez and I’m calling about the Jane Doe in the paper.”

Decker said, “Thanks for calling, Ms. Alvarez. What would you like to tell me?”

“Well, now, this is a long time ago. But I have to tell you that it looks pretty much like my older cousin Beth.”

“Okay. How so?”

“The picture in the paper, the one with the granny glasses and the Farrah Fawcett-Majors hairdo. Beth used to wear her hair like that except it was dark, but so did everyone else. Beth had glasses just like that, but so did everyone else. Mostly, it was the mood ring. Beth always wore a mood ring. Not that she needed it. Beth was such a positive person. She was always smiling.”

Decker became very excited and pulled out his notepad. Lauren had thought that the Jane Doe might be Latina and Alvarez fit that category. “Would you have a picture of Beth?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t have one on me. But I mailed the article to my mother-Beth’s aunt. Mom and I talked about the picture for over an hour. She agrees with me. We both think it’s Beth, but neither one of us has told my aunt or uncle. If it isn’t Beth, well, you can imagine how terrible we’d feel, stirring up such heartbreak.”

“And may I ask who your aunt and uncle are?”

“Sandra and Peter Devargas. They’re in their seventies, but still strong. They have five other children, and lots of grandchildren, but that doesn’t take the place of Beth.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m sure they’d like to know…give her a proper burial if it is…”

The voice on the other end choked up.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve had dozens of calls, all of them thinking that the picture is a loved one.”

“We have, but we take each phone call seriously. What happened to your cousin?”

“She and her husband vanished into thin air thirty-two years ago.”

“Do you have the date, month, or year?”

“June of 1976.”

Finally something concrete. Hallelujah. “Where were they living at the time, Mrs. Alvarez?”

“Please call me Cathie. They were living in Los Angeles…somewhere in the San Fernando Valley, but I don’t know the exact address. I’ve lived in Long Beach for the last fifteen years. My family is from Santa Fe, New Mexico.”

Again Decker felt as if he were talking to the right person. Santa Fe had lots of Native Americans. “And you say Beth’s parents are Peter and Sandra Devargas?”

“Yes. They live in Santa Fe right near the Plaza. Do you know Santa Fe?”

“Uh…Sergeant Dunn, are you still on the extension?”

“I am.”

“Sergeant, do you know where the Plaza is in Santa Fe?”

“It’s the center of town.”

“Exactly,” Cathie answered.

Decker said, “Do you have the Devargases’ address and phone number?”

“Of course, but I feel funny having you call them up just like that.”

Quickly, Decker moved on. He’d come back to the parents. “How did Beth and her husband come to live in L.A.?”

“Beth married her high school sweetheart. Manny Hernandez-the BMOC. Star quarterback, just dynamite in the looks department. Every girl in the school had a crush on him, including me. But being as I was only ten at the time, I was happy that Beth got him…we kept him in the family. Anyway, they moved to L.A. probably for a variety of reasons. I remember my mother telling me that Beth wasn’t happy at first, that she missed her family. But then she adjusted. As they tell it, she didn’t call for a week and when they tried to reach her, the number was disconnected. My aunt and uncle flew out to L.A. a week later, but Beth and Manny had moved out of their apartment. From that point on, no one ever saw or heard from them again. They simply vanished.”

“And this was June of ’76?”

“June tenth, I think. I think their disappearance even made the evening news.”

“Dunn, you want to see if you can pull up the case on the computer. I’m going to do the same.”

“I’ve already logged on,” Marge said. “Oliver’s on it as well.”

“Bring up any kind of photographs you can.” Decker returned his attention to Cathie Alvarez. “Okay, I’m inputting the data into my computer as we speak. I just need you to stay on the line a little longer until I can…” Decker typed the information into the data bank. “We’ve been diligently looking at missing-persons files in that time frame, but we’ve been looking for women only. Maybe this was filed…okay, okay. Here we go…I have a missing-persons case: Ramon and Isabela Hernandez, dated June thirteenth, 1976-”

“That’s the one, Lieutenant. They anglicized their names, which we all did to be more American. Ramon and Isabela became Beth and Manny.”

“Let’s see if I can find a picture…”

Marge burst into the room and shoved a printout of a photograph under his nose. Oliver followed on her heels. He said, “We’ve got a hit!”

Two separate pictures. One appeared to be a high-school-graduation picture of Beth-more formally, Isabela-a sweet-faced brunette with a wide smile. The second snapshot was a wedding photograph: the same fresh-faced girl in a white dress and veil posed next to a somber but handsome, strapping lad with pouting lips and dark brooding eyes.

The boy was trouble in a tux.

“You say Beth wore glasses?” Decker asked Cathie.

“Yes.”

“The two photos I have show her without glasses. But it’s a wedding picture and what looks like a high-school-graduation picture. Most girls in that situation would pose with their glasses off.”

“That’s certainly true. So you have a picture of Manny as well?”

“His wedding picture. And he is or was a good-looking guy.” Decker’s heart was doing a drag race. “I think the Jane Doe we found does look like your cousin Isabela.”

“Did you only find Beth…or a Jane Doe?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You didn’t find Manny.”

“Not where we found Jane Doe, no.”

The line went silent.

Decker said, “Cathie, I really need to speak to your aunt.”

“All right…”

“You sound hesitant. What are your concerns? Is your aunt ill or very fragile?”

“No, she’s very strong…” A sigh. “It’s a cultural thing, Lieutenant. Not that there is a good way to tell my aunt this news, but I think you’d get much more cooperation if you visited her personally.”

“Thank you for telling me. I had every intention of going out to Santa Fe, but I thought it might be less shocking if I called her first.”

“I understand, but I really think…” She cleared her throat. “You know, I visit my parents all the time. The trip is not a hard one. Southwest goes into Albuquerque and it’s an hour’s drive from the airport to Santa Fe.”

“We’ll pay for your ticket and your expenses-”

“I wasn’t asking for a free ride.”

“You’re helping us with official business, you’re certainly entitled to one. Can you hold on while I bring up the Southwest Web site?” He inputted the data. “Here we go. It’s ten-thirty right now. There is a four-forty nonstop from LAX to Albuquerque. Is that a possibility for you?”

“You mean you want to go out today?”

“Yes, ma’am. The sooner the better.”

“Oh my…” Again her voice was clogged with emotion. “I have to call my husband and let him know. I should be able to make the trip. It sounds fine.”

“Thank you, thank you. Are there any expenses that we’re going to need to reimburse you for? Like child care maybe?”

“I suppose that must mean I sound young. Thank you for the compliment. My kids are out of the house.”

“You do sound young.”

“I’m forty-nine.”

“To me, you not only sound young, you are young. I’m going to bring along two other detectives who’ve been working the case-Sergeant Marge Dunn, who was on the phone, and Detective Scott Oliver. Can you make it outside Terminal One by three in the afternoon? The Southwest lines are always long.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You should be able to recognize us,” Decker told her. “Scope out the three people that look like cops.”

“Wow, this is so sudden.”

“I’m sure it must feel that way. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you called. One thing before I let you go. Is Ramon Hernandez’s family from Santa Fe as well?”

“Yes, they were from the area. Manny’s mother died about ten years ago. He had a brother, but I don’t know what happened to him. His father, if he’s still alive, would probably be in prison. He killed two people while robbing a convenience store. I heard he got fifty years or something like that. At first, my aunt was positive that Manny had something to do with Beth’s disappearance. But the private detective that she hired never found Beth or Manny.”

“So as far as you know, Manny is still missing.”

“As far as I know, but I don’t know everything.”

“Meaning?”

“Manny had the reputation of being a bad boy. It didn’t bother Beth-she was in love-but it did bother my aunt and uncle. Years later I found out that my aunt suspected that Beth had been pregnant when she and Manny got married. Knowing who Manny was, I can’t believe that he wanted a baby. When I became an adult, it was always my theory that they moved to California so that Beth could get an abortion and the families wouldn’t know about it. I have no proof, but that’s what I think.”

“I see.”

“Growing up, I used to go to church with my family. I distinctly remember Aunt Sandy lighting two candles at the end of every service. As a kid, I thought one was for Beth and the other was for Manny. After all, they did disappear together. But now, as an adult, I see that there was no love lost between the families even when Manny’s mother was alive. The second candle wasn’t for Manny at all. It was for her lost grandchild.”

“Tragic,” Decker said.

“It is tragic.” Cathie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s so very, very sad!”