He firmly replaced the items and slid the box back into the closet. He’d start a new week, and it was going to be a good one.
On Monday, Robert and Jake sat in Robert’s office with a stack of leads that had come in over the weekend. “What do you have on any connections with Karl’s work?” Robert asked while reading a card and setting it aside in a growing stack.
“Nothing. I got Karl’s work records for the last year or so. He didn’t work on a building or residence of the leading members of the mob, that we know about or suspect. That isn’t saying that he might have done some work on the side.” Jake shrugged.
“At this point, I might even take my father and father-in-law’s suggestion and see if there’s anything to the fact they might have been relocated because they were witnesses in a crime somewhere else.” Robert leaned forward as he read another card. “You think yours and Lorene’s dads might be on to something?”
“You have got to be joking. You’d consider anything my dad and my father-in-law suggest?” Jake made a rude snort at the prospect. He set one card aside, then picked it up and reread it.
“Why dismiss them? If we don’t have any other leads, we might as well check it out.”
“Only as a very last resort. If we find any truth to the suggestion, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Jake shook his head and went back to looking for good leads.
It was a long, tedious morning. Robert was ready to take a break when he picked up a card propped against his pencil holder.
It had his name at the top, and Helen Layton printed on the informant line. Under that, her home and work address, the phone numbers of both her work and home were listed. In the information section, the officer had typed these words.
“Jake, how about a drive out to the Gorge today?” He stared at the card. He had a feeling in his gut.
“What do you have?” Jake never questioned Robert when he had that look.
Robert pulled his notebook closer and flipped a few pages back. “We suspect that Karl bought gas near The Dalles. If so, and he was driving from Portland, why not stop for dinner along the way?” He held the card for Jake to read.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get my hat and coat and meet you out front.” He exited the office.
Robert called the diner and set up a meeting with Helen for that afternoon. The two men headed out to the squad car.
They drove the old Columbia River Highway because Robert liked the scenery, and it was the same route the family might have taken.
“This is God’s country.” Jake sighed; he watched the reflection of the sun off the whitecaps on the Columbia River.
Robert chuckled, “I suppose everyone thinks that about the place they live.”
Robert pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Palisades Diner. “It isn’t much to look at, but sometimes these places have the best food. See any truckers parked around?”
“Looks like a couple of trucks parked toward the back. I’ll do a walk around to make sure it’s as quiet as it seems. Meet you inside.” Jake stepped out of the car, stretched, and casually walked around the side of the diner, while Robert pulled the car closer to the front door and parked. He made his way inside through the main entrance.
Two truckers, hunched over their chicken fried steaks and coffee, were the only other occupants in the dining area. He stood next to the counter and tapped the bell. The doors flung open, and a skinny, middle-aged woman rushed to meet him.
“Sit anywhere you want. There’s no line today.” There wasn’t any sarcasm or humor in the statement. She reached for a stained menu and followed him to a table near the back of the room. He took the seat facing the front and back.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He nodded, and she poured from the pot she held in her hand.
“Is Helen in?” he asked.
After a brief pause and a final sniff, she turned to the counter. “Helen, you got company!” she hollered as she poured coffee before stomping around to the back.
The place was clean, but cigarette smoke from the patrons had long turned the ceiling tiles a dark yellow, mixed with water stains. The brown paneling on the walls didn’t help the atmosphere on dark and rainy days. Red vinyl covered the booth seats, except where tape patched the tears.
Robert sipped on the coffee and grimaced; the pot was well seasoned. He bet the truckers didn’t care. The cream he poured into the cup barely changed the muddy color. It rivaled the offering at the station.
A tall, well-proportioned, young woman approached and smiled as she set her coffee mug down across from his.
“I’m Detective Collins,” he started to stand and reach for his ID, but she waved it away.
“Sit down, I know who you are. I saw your picture in the papers. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” She gave him a smile that lit up her pretty face.
Robert returned a dazzling, dimpled smile of his own. “You say you saw a family that matched the description of the Stevens family. What stood out about this family that made you think they were the ones missing?”
“The picture I saw of them in the paper.” She laid the printed sheet in front of him pointing to the Stevens family photo, including Calvin.
“Tell me what you remember about that evening, from the moment you first saw this family until they left.”
Helen ran her high-glossed nails through her brown, page-boy cut hair. The gesture emphasized the beautiful lines of her face.
Robert wasn’t blind; he appreciated beauty in every form, but he pushed the thought aside and listened intently to what she was saying. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Jake come in and sit at the counter facing him, but behind Helen. Jake had a full view of the diner and the front door.
“It was about half-past five or so, and I was turning the floodlights on in the parking lot. I saw a car pull in.”
“Can you describe the car?”
She thought for a moment, “It was red and white or a cream color station wagon.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Is that what you remember or what you read in the paper?” He watched her reaction. She didn’t look away but answered him directly.
“I saw the car. It matched the description in the paper.”
“Go on,” prompted Robert.
“They came in and sat at the table over there,” she pointed to it. “A man, a woman, and three girls, the same ones who are in the picture.”
“Forget what you saw in the newspaper and just tell me what they were wearing.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “The father was tall, but not six foot. He was stocky with brownish-gray hair. The mother came up to about his ear when she stood next to him. He pulled the chair for her, but that’s it. He didn’t push it under her. I’d say she weighed close to two hundred ten.
She wore her brown hair short and curly. Now the girls all had varying shades of brown to blonde hair, two wore ponytails, and the oldest wore her hair shorter, something like her mother.” Helen paused and took a sip of coffee. “The girls wore jackets and pedal pushers. They all wore regular oxford shoes, dirty, like they’d been walking in the woods.”
“All of them?” he repeated.
“Yes.” Helen turned and hollered, “Joan! Coffee.” The woman who had seated him came out with more coffee. Robert almost covered his cup with his hand, but the woman was already pouring the hot liquid. She turned to the counter to pour refills for the truckers and a new cup for Jake.