“I’d like to go out sometime and not run across a cop you know or someone you busted,” Mary said, trying to read the soup choices listed with the daily special on a board near the kitchen.
“You’re awfully cranky tonight.”
“I was awake half the night checking the locks after you spooked me with your panic over the note on the door, I had a crummy day at work, you tell me graphic details about some guy who’s been tortured, and you expect me to be in good humor? If you’re going to scare me, the least you could do is let me spend the night curled up in your arms so the bogey man won’t get me.”
A smiling, trim, brown-haired waitress arrived with a carafe of coffee. “Would you like coffee, too, Mary?” the waitress asked as she poured for Floyd.
“I’d better stick with something decaffeinated tonight. Bring me a large glass of milk, a bowl of bean soup, and a California burger.”
“Just cherry pie for me, Noelle” Floyd said. Seeing Mary’s glare he asked, “What? You’ve been telling me to eat more fruits and vegetables.”
“Cherry pie is not a good source of vitamins or minerals,” Mary whispered, “and how does the waitress know my name?”
Floyd smiled. “I may have mentioned your name when I was having lunch here the other day.”
“You’re telling strange waitresses about me? I suppose I should be flattered.”
“She asked why she hadn’t seen me for a while and I told her that you’d been feeding me supper so I haven’t been eating out as much.”
“And she said?”
Floyd shrugged. “She said that you must be a good cook because it looked like I’d put on a couple of pounds.”
Noelle set the soup, milk, and pie in front of them. “I also told him that he’s been smiling a lot more lately. The burger should be up in a minute. Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked as she set a squeeze bottle of ketchup on the table.
Mike Nelson’s parents lived on a small hobby farm halfway between Pine City and Beroun. Sandy drove down the short driveway and parked between a freshly painted red barn with white trim and the tan farmhouse. The Nelson farm was a nice contrast to the numerous old farms that were falling into disrepair as the owners could no longer make a living off the forty or eighty acres around them, and their town jobs didn’t provide the income to keep the buildings in repair.
A red Farmall tractor was pulling a baler through the nearest field, and two foals frolicked in a white-fenced paddock next to the barn. Sandy waved at the farmer before knocking on the screen door of the house. Through the open door he smelled something frying and heard a television game show.
Mildred Nelson answered the door in an orange tank top and green shorts. Her body was stocky and her brown hair was tied back, exposing a scar under her left ear where a tumor had been removed a few years earlier. Sandy recognized her as the cook from the high school, where he’d had numerous meetings with parents or administrators when he was the sponsor for the DARE drug awareness program. Millie always had a pot of coffee brewed and a hidden package of sandwich cookies in the back of the school kitchen for the DARE cop.
“Sandy Maki,” she said, pushing the screen door open. “C’mon in. I’ve got pork chops frying and I need to turn them over before they burn. What brings you out in the country?” she asked as she hustled back to the kitchen with Sandy following.
Millie Nelson’s kitchen was immaculately clean, with countertops bare of clutter and a neat arrangement of fresh-cut flowers on a small table in front of the window. Someone had painted the cupboards a bright yellow, and then done intricate Norwegian painting on the margins in blue. If ever there was a floor that could be eaten from, it was Millie Nelson’s.
“We opened the old Aaron Roberts missing person case,” Sandy explained, “and I wanted to ask a few questions.” The kitchen table was set for two, and several pots simmered on the stove. Sandy sat in a kitchen chair and watched Millie flip chops in the cast-iron frying pan, and then stir all the other pots.
“Fire away,” Millie said after wiping her hands on a towel. She sat across the table.
“We found an old picture taken the night before Aaron disappeared. It was of Mike, Betsy, Kathy Tucker, Melissa Smith and Aaron Roberts. We talked to most of them, but no one seems to remember much about that night, and no one knows what happened to Aaron.”
“I sure don’t know anything,” Millie said. “They were a pretty wild bunch and they did a lot of drinking before and after they turned twenty-one.” She got up from the chair and turned the burners off under all the pans. “Mike ran around with them some, but I don’t remember that particular night. That was a long time ago. Mike’s been married twice since then.”
“It was the night before Kenny was killed in the car accident in December of ’98. Mike said he and Betsy fell asleep in the car and didn’t wake up until the sun came up.”
The sound of the tractor grew louder and Millie looked out the window. “I was wondering if Larry had lost track of time. I told him supper would be ready at six.” She walked to the cupboard and took out another plate. “You’ll stay and have a pork chop, won’t you?” She took out silverware and set a place in front of Sandy without waiting for an answer.
“That’s kind of you, but I didn’t mean to barge in on your supper.”
“Oh hell, you didn’t barge in; you’re doing your job, and you stopped at just the right time. If you don’t eat the extra I’ll just have to feed it to the dog.”
The screen door opened with a creak and Millie said, “Larry, wash your hands and get in here before your supper gets cold. Sandy Maki’s over for dinner so behave yourself.”
Larry Nelson came around the corner dressed in an olive short-sleeved work shirt stained dark with sweat. He was a big man and his ample belly hung over the waist of the pants worn low on his hips. He went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands while Millie served up heaping portions of mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and pork chops with steaming brown gravy.
“You sure timed that right,” Larry said with a huge smile. He offered his clean hand to Sandy. “I hope you realize that you’re saving me from having to eat way too much of this good stuff Millie whips up. All four kids are gone and she still makes the same amount of food, then she gets mad at me when I don’t eat half of what she’s made.”
“I feel awfully guilty dropping in on your supper, but it smells so good I’m sure not going to say no.”
“So,” Larry asked, “what brings you out here?”
“I was explaining to Millie,” Sandy said as he cut his pork chop, “we reopened the Aaron Roberts disappearance and Mike was with him the night he disappeared. I thought you might remember something.”
“I don’t remember what today’s last customer bought,” Larry said, referring to his saddle shop in Pine City, “much less what happened the night Aaron disappeared.”
“It was the night before Kenny Solstad was killed in that terrible car accident,” Millie explained. “Sandy reminded me that Mike had been drinking with them and he didn’t come home until after sunrise.”
Larry Nelson shook his head. “Mike didn’t come home until sunrise too many times. That bunch had too many bad apples. I can’t say I was sad when Kenny went in the Army. They settled down some then. But when Kenny came home he sure thought they should raise some hell and Mike was right there alongside him.”
“Do you remember anything special about that particular night? Sandy asked. “It was in December and Kenny was headed to an Army base in Missouri the next day. Mike said he and Betsy spent the whole night asleep in his car after they left the party early.”
“I suppose,” Larry said, “it was one of those days when Mike showed up with bloodshot eyes as I was going out to feed the horses. I probably dragged him with me and made him work awhile just to make him a little more miserable.” His words were tinged with obvious disdain.