faded into white, then into
black. Her last sight had been of a marigold. She thought it very
pretty.
Perry hung up the phone for the second time
in less than five minutes. The last four minutes had been spent on
the phone with a 9-1-1 operator explaining how he knew that someone
named Cynthia Wagner in San Diego was in trouble when he was in
Seattle. The operator assured Perry that the proper authorities
would be called. It was all that Perry could do.
“She said Tonopah?” Jack sat in a burgundy
leather chair. “That’s in Nevada, right?”
“I believe so. I’ve never been there.”
“Really?” Jack cocked his head.“I thought
maybe you had.”
Perry switched on his father’s computer. “Why
would you think that?”
“The photo album. Lots of pictures of you
when you were cute. I saw a few of the desert. I had assumed you
had vacationed there.”
“If we did, I was a baby. I don’t recall any
such family vacation.”
“You couldn’t have been too young. One of the
cars in the picture is from the mid-seventies. You had to be nine
or ten.”
Something struck Perry. “Show me.”
Jack flipped through the pages, then pushed
the photo album toward Perry. “Here it is.”
Perry pulled the book closer. “I don’t
remember this, and I doubt it’s a vacation.” He was looking at a
group of smiling people, one of whom was a much younger version of
his father. He was surprised how much he resembled his dad. The
group of six stood in front of a dark red stone building. There
were five men, counting his father, and one woman. Two of the men
frowned at the camera while the rest smiled. Perry studied the
photo. His father’s hair was moderately long, and he sported a
thick mustache. Another man had long sideburns and wore pants that
flared a little at the bottom. Not quite bell-bottoms but related.
The woman’s hair was straight and blond. The two men on the side
with the serious expressions wore civilian clothing, but their
clean shaved faces and short hair made Perry think military. Just
to the right of the group was the front end of a car.
“I recognize my dad,” Perry said. “And you’re
right about the car. What is that?”
“A 1974 Chevy Suburban. My dad was a car nut,
always buying some car or another, fixing it up, then selling it.
Several of those went through the garage when I was a kid.”
“So this picture has to be from 1974 or
later.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, it’s no vacation picture. I’ve never
met these people. They seem an odd match.” Perry removed the
picture and turned it over. There was writing on the back. He read
aloud,
“Mizpah Hotel. VZ, CW, MG, me, and two
associates.”
“Those initials match up with the names your
father gave you.” Jack thought for a second. “Where’s the Mizpah
Hotel?”
“I don’t know, but I have a guess.” Perry set
the photo down and started the computer’s Internet browser. A few
moments later, he said, “I’ve got it.”
“Tonopah?”
“Tonopah, Nevada. I’ve found several pictures
on the Web. It’s the same place, all right.” Jack rounded the desk
and looked over Perry’s shoulder. “In Dad’s photo, I can see the
entrance to the hotel and some of the architectural style. It’s a
match.”
“It looks a bit run-down in this photo.” Jack
pointed to the screen.
“It was built just after the turn of the
century, so it has a right to look a little run-down. Look, here’s
one after it’s been refurbished.”
“Looks better.”
Perry shook his head. “There’s something in
all of this that Dad wants me to find. There’s some connection. But
what?”
“We know that one person in the photo is
dead. We know your father is very ill, and from what you told me
about the conversation you just had with Cynthia Wagner, another
one is in bad shape.”
“All within a day or so of the other. All
were together in 1974 in Tonopah, Nevada. Now, over thirty years
later, three of them are
black. Her last sight had been of a marigold. She thought it very
pretty.
Perry hung up the phone for the second time
in less than five minutes. The last four minutes had been spent on
the phone with a 9-1-1 operator explaining how he knew that someone
named Cynthia Wagner in San Diego was in trouble when he was in
Seattle. The operator assured Perry that the proper authorities
would be called. It was all that Perry could do.
“She said Tonopah?” Jack sat in a burgundy
leather chair. “That’s in Nevada, right?”
“I believe so. I’ve never been there.”
“Really?” Jack cocked his head.“I thought
maybe you had.”
Perry switched on his father’s computer. “Why
would you think that?”
“The photo album. Lots of pictures of you
when you were cute. I saw a few of the desert. I had assumed you
had vacationed there.”
“If we did, I was a baby. I don’t recall any
such family vacation.”
“You couldn’t have been too young. One of the
cars in the picture is from the mid-seventies. You had to be nine
or ten.”
Something struck Perry. “Show me.”
Jack flipped through the pages, then pushed
the photo album toward Perry. “Here it is.”
Perry pulled the book closer. “I don’t
remember this, and I doubt it’s a vacation.” He was looking at a
group of smiling people, one of whom was a much younger version of
his father. He was surprised how much he resembled his dad. The
group of six stood in front of a dark red stone building. There
were five men, counting his father, and one woman. Two of the men
frowned at the camera while the rest smiled. Perry studied the
photo. His father’s hair was moderately long, and he sported a
thick mustache. Another man had long sideburns and wore pants that
flared a little at the bottom. Not quite bell-bottoms but related.
The woman’s hair was straight and blond. The two men on the side
with the serious expressions wore civilian clothing, but their
clean shaved faces and short hair made Perry think military. Just
to the right of the group was the front end of a car.
“I recognize my dad,” Perry said. “And you’re
right about the car. What is that?”
“A 1974 Chevy Suburban. My dad was a car nut,
always buying some car or another, fixing it up, then selling it.
Several of those went through the garage when I was a kid.”
“So this picture has to be from 1974 or
later.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, it’s no vacation picture. I’ve never
met these people. They seem an odd match.” Perry removed the
picture and turned it over. There was writing on the back. He read
aloud,
“Mizpah Hotel. VZ, CW, MG, me, and two
associates.”
“Those initials match up with the names your
father gave you.” Jack thought for a second. “Where’s the Mizpah
Hotel?”
“I don’t know, but I have a guess.” Perry set
the photo down and started the computer’s Internet browser. A few
moments later, he said, “I’ve got it.”
“Tonopah?”
“Tonopah, Nevada. I’ve found several pictures
on the Web. It’s the same place, all right.” Jack rounded the desk
and looked over Perry’s shoulder. “In Dad’s photo, I can see the
entrance to the hotel and some of the architectural style. It’s a
match.”
“It looks a bit run-down in this photo.” Jack
pointed to the screen.
“It was built just after the turn of the
century, so it has a right to look a little run-down. Look, here’s
one after it’s been refurbished.”
“Looks better.”
Perry shook his head. “There’s something in
all of this that Dad wants me to find. There’s some connection. But
what?”
“We know that one person in the photo is
dead. We know your father is very ill, and from what you told me
about the conversation you just had with Cynthia Wagner, another
one is in bad shape.”
“All within a day or so of the other. All
were together in 1974 in Tonopah, Nevada. Now, over thirty years
later, three of them are
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