Later that night, after eating a garlic chicken and potato dinner, he went through the accordion folder and found nothing out of the ordinary. The usual—doctors, dentist, utility, gas bills, and cash receipts They were in date order within each pocket. He flipped back through the bills in the October section.
Darla had gone to the dentist, and Kelly had visited the doctor in October. He glanced down to see that she had seen the GP for a physical. He put it back on the pile and looked at the phone bill. The phone calls they’d made were listed. He raised his eyebrows when he recognized Maggie’s number; it was called at least two to three times a week. She’d told the truth when she said they often talked during the week.
Something bothered him. He called Jake, who answered sleepily, “Hello?”
“Jake, sorry to wake you, but I’ve been going through the Stevens’ receipts and cash books that I picked up from the Stevens’ house today. The 1958 cash book is missing and all the receipts from November. Did I read a report somewhere about someone running from the home that night?”
There was silence on the phone when he heard Jake sigh. Robert could hear Lorene muttering something and Jake saying to her, “It’s Robert.” He heard movement, and Jake probably pulled the phone to the hall.
“Robert, you need to get married or get a girlfriend. Yes, I remember the conversation. There was a woman who said she drove by Karl as he was leaving for work each day. On Monday morning, she said at six a.m. when she drove by the truck, it was still there, and the house was dark. A cab was parked in front of the Stevens’ house. It had to move to let her by. I read another report about a man coming home from work about five minutes later, and the cab blocked his driveway. It moved ahead to let him pull into the driveway and garage.”
“Okay, it’s all coming back. The neighbor went to the window after going into his house. He reported seeing a tall figure, presumably a man by the way he was running, leave the house, dive into the cab, and it sped off.”
“Yes. Now, what do you have?” Jake yawned.
“Missing receipts and a cash book. Who would want them? The man said he got the taxi company name but couldn’t see a cab number. Our guys followed up. They told us no cab from the Black & White company had been dispatched to that address.”
“So, there are two accounts of a Black & White cab at the Stevens’ address early Monday morning, but no one dispatched it.” Robert wrote the note on the pad.
“That’s what I’m saying. Can I go back to bed? Couldn’t we have talked about this in the morning? Oh, it is morning. Well, later in the morning?” Jake yawned.
“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, and I was going over my notes.”
“Robert, you need to get a real life. Go running when you can’t sleep. Buy yourself a tape recorder and record all your thoughts. Anything but calling me and waking Lorene.”
Robert ignored the familiar whine. “Who would go to the trouble to make sure that there was no record of a cab making the trip? There aren’t many people around here with that kind of clout except for the… mob.” They both spoke the last word together.
Jake went on to say, “Why would they have anything to do with this family? Robert, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I’ll look into seeing what connections Karl might have had at his work with any of the mob or if he might have worked on any of their houses.”
“Sorry for waking you. I’d make it up to Lorene, but I’ll let you do that. See you.” He hung up and leaned back in his chair. On the legal pad, he wrote a timetable with the events and then added: “Mob? Karl’s job or other?”
The wind picked up, the howling and rustle of the trees kept Robert awake. In the darkness, he lay in the recliner, wrapped in a blanket. He’d sold the house that he and Becca purchased just after they married. What her parents didn’t want of hers, he sold. This house was about 900 square feet with two small bedrooms, a living room, bath, and kitchen. A small laundry area in the pass-through to the back door completed the layout. When he moved in, he’d removed and filled in the small fish pond in the postage stamp yard and built a double garage.
No pictures hung on the walls. Curtains hung on the front window, mostly to keep out prying eyes. Robert installed a privacy fence around the whole yard and garage, it was at least a deterrent. On nights like this, memories were harder to keep at bay.
Three years ago, he’d come home late from work. Becca stood in the entryway holding Henry, who screamed at the top of his lungs. Her eyes puffy from tears and frustration overflowed.
Robert had dropped his lunch box and case, taken Henry from her, and sent her to bed. He called his mother, who lived four hours away, for advice. It had taken another hour for the boy to settle down. Robert had fallen asleep in the recliner with Henry lying on his chest. Worn out, he and the baby slept the rest of the night on the couch.
In the morning, Becca had given him the silent treatment. He’d tried to talk to her, telling her Henry was teething, and he might have had an upset stomach, but it wasn’t her fault. She turned her head and wouldn’t look at him. It had taken three or four days of silence before she’d speak to him again. Eventually, they’d come to terms with the teething aspect, and he slept in his bed again.
Four weeks later, he’d watched her holding the baby to walk across the sidewalk to a restaurant while he parked the car. It was the last time he’d ever seen her alive. He hated the mob with a passion.
The sleet pelted the window, and the wind howled. Robert didn’t sleep until the storm died down early the next morning.
Maggie sat in the chair opposite Tom. She fidgeted with the address book, folding it inside a magazine. Tom watched her for a few moments then spoke.
“Maggie, it isn’t going to do any good to put it off. You took Debra’s address book. The cops aren’t going to be coming for it. They don’t even know it exists. If she hadn’t had it out one day, you wouldn’t even know about it. It must have been fate.” He leaned forward in the chair to reassure her. “You need to make the call.”
“What am I going to say?” her voice broke with emotion. “I can’t just come out and say, “What did you do?”
Tom tilted his head in sympathy. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need to say. There isn’t any other way to put it.”
A long silence passed. Maggie picked up the receiver and dialed the number written in the book beside Calvin Stevens’ name.
“Hello?” A woman answered the phone.
“Is Calvin there?” Maggie asked with a trembling voice.
“Who’s calling?” The woman’s voice bordered on suspicious and demanding.
“This is his Aunt Maggie.”
A brief silence followed, then the woman spoke, “He’s out shoveling snow. I’ll go get him.”
“Wait!” Maggie ordered. “I’ll call back in fifteen minutes. That’ll give him time to come in and get warm. I don’t want to pay the charges to sit and wait.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll make sure he’s in when you call back.” She rang off, and Maggie repeated to Tom what she’d heard about Calvin’s whereabouts.
“Well, at least he’s doing something productive,” Tom retorted.
“He’s in the service. He has to be productive. They wouldn’t keep him in if he weren’t.”
“He just got out of boot camp, and he’s already living with some woman.” His tone turned derisive.
“Tom! He could be living in a boarding house and maybe pays his keep by doing chores.” Maggie leaned forward, her expression fixed with anger.
Tom held up his hand. “Okay, maybe he’s turned over a new leaf. The Navy will do that to a guy. Let’s hope you’re right. It’s what he knows that’s important. If the police haven’t called him already, then you’re the first one to tell him his family is missing. It’s been over a week now.”