by
his family members when he left Marla’s house to drive into town for beer.
Although he hadn’t stated as much, both Marla and his wife, Tricia, assumed
that he would go to the supermarket where the family normally shopped. It
should have been a round trip of less than an hour. When Tito didn’t show up
after more than two hours, the women became concerned. He’d left his cell phone
in the bedroom, his former childhood room, so Tricia decided to take Marla’s
car and drive the route, concerned that he’d had car trouble somewhere. There’d
been no sign of him or his vehicle along the way or at the grocery store. She’d
driven to the other large supermarket in town, with no sign of him there
either, then she’d cruised slowly past the few liquor stores. No car. No Tito.
At one point she’d called back to Marla’s house to be sure he hadn’t arrived in
her absence.
Feeling a little panicky, Tricia
had then driven to the sheriff’s department and informed them of the situation.
A shadow crossed the page. Eben,
the florist appeared at Sam’s window and she rolled it down. “Everything okay,
Sam?”
“Oh, yeah, I just had something
to read over. I hope I’m not taking up a valuable parking spot?” It was nice of
him to worry about her.
He assured her that he didn’t
mind, then pulled his sweater more tightly across his chest and hurried back inside.
Two other pages in the file
contained notes about phone calls the deputies had made to the hospital and the
morgue. Among Tito’s friends who’d been contacted no one said they’d heard from
him. Someone had made a note in the file that the sheriff’s department had
simply recommended that Tricia Fresques go back to Albuquerque and wait there
for her husband to come home.
Sam closed the folder and tapped
it against her steering wheel, pondering. Pulling out her cell phone she made a
quick call to Marla, who didn’t mind at all that Sam wanted to drop by.
Sam glanced at the time. She
could afford another hour away from the bakery. She pulled out of Eben’s
parking lot and headed north toward open country. There’d been no new snow
since mid-January and the bright February sun now shone on tan fields of
stubble. Horses stood in the sunshine, their fuzzy winter coats soaking up its
warmth. Flocks of small black birds suddenly abandoned perches in a spiky
cottonwood tree, flowing like a dark stream low across a field on her right,
landing to pick at fallen seeds on the ground.
The trip to Marla’s home seemed
to go more quickly this time, the miles streaming by pleasantly. Sam slowed the
van nearly to a crawl as she passed through Arroyo Seco, watching both sides of
the road for any sign of Gustav Bobul. She couldn’t imagine him living so near
and not coming to her shop, at least to say hello. But then he was a strange
one. Nearly anything was possible.
Only the one sedan sat in Marla’s
driveway today. Sam pulled in behind it and Marla stepped out onto the shady
front porch to greet her.
“Come in, Sam. I’ve made some
coffee.”
Sam handed her the red rose Eben
had given her and gave her new friend a hug, noticing for the first time that
Marla’s shoulders were so thin that she could feel the bones through her
quilted cardigan. Marla led Sam, a little unsteadily, toward the kitchen where
she placed her rose into a bud vase then poured two mugs of coffee from a
carafe. Her hands were a bit shaky, and she covered by pushing the sugar and
creamer containers toward Sam rather than attempting to spoon the contents
herself. Sam pretended to ignore Marla’s increasing weakness, turning to remove
her coat and hanging it over one of the kitchen chairs. She held up the folder.
“Sheriff Cardwell gave me this.
His department ran out of leads a long time ago, but he said it was okay if I
did some asking around.”
“Thank you.” Marla’s voice came
out tight and high. “It means so much to me.”
Sam bit her lip. “I really can’t
promise
his family members when he left Marla’s house to drive into town for beer.
Although he hadn’t stated as much, both Marla and his wife, Tricia, assumed
that he would go to the supermarket where the family normally shopped. It
should have been a round trip of less than an hour. When Tito didn’t show up
after more than two hours, the women became concerned. He’d left his cell phone
in the bedroom, his former childhood room, so Tricia decided to take Marla’s
car and drive the route, concerned that he’d had car trouble somewhere. There’d
been no sign of him or his vehicle along the way or at the grocery store. She’d
driven to the other large supermarket in town, with no sign of him there
either, then she’d cruised slowly past the few liquor stores. No car. No Tito.
At one point she’d called back to Marla’s house to be sure he hadn’t arrived in
her absence.
Feeling a little panicky, Tricia
had then driven to the sheriff’s department and informed them of the situation.
A shadow crossed the page. Eben,
the florist appeared at Sam’s window and she rolled it down. “Everything okay,
Sam?”
“Oh, yeah, I just had something
to read over. I hope I’m not taking up a valuable parking spot?” It was nice of
him to worry about her.
He assured her that he didn’t
mind, then pulled his sweater more tightly across his chest and hurried back inside.
Two other pages in the file
contained notes about phone calls the deputies had made to the hospital and the
morgue. Among Tito’s friends who’d been contacted no one said they’d heard from
him. Someone had made a note in the file that the sheriff’s department had
simply recommended that Tricia Fresques go back to Albuquerque and wait there
for her husband to come home.
Sam closed the folder and tapped
it against her steering wheel, pondering. Pulling out her cell phone she made a
quick call to Marla, who didn’t mind at all that Sam wanted to drop by.
Sam glanced at the time. She
could afford another hour away from the bakery. She pulled out of Eben’s
parking lot and headed north toward open country. There’d been no new snow
since mid-January and the bright February sun now shone on tan fields of
stubble. Horses stood in the sunshine, their fuzzy winter coats soaking up its
warmth. Flocks of small black birds suddenly abandoned perches in a spiky
cottonwood tree, flowing like a dark stream low across a field on her right,
landing to pick at fallen seeds on the ground.
The trip to Marla’s home seemed
to go more quickly this time, the miles streaming by pleasantly. Sam slowed the
van nearly to a crawl as she passed through Arroyo Seco, watching both sides of
the road for any sign of Gustav Bobul. She couldn’t imagine him living so near
and not coming to her shop, at least to say hello. But then he was a strange
one. Nearly anything was possible.
Only the one sedan sat in Marla’s
driveway today. Sam pulled in behind it and Marla stepped out onto the shady
front porch to greet her.
“Come in, Sam. I’ve made some
coffee.”
Sam handed her the red rose Eben
had given her and gave her new friend a hug, noticing for the first time that
Marla’s shoulders were so thin that she could feel the bones through her
quilted cardigan. Marla led Sam, a little unsteadily, toward the kitchen where
she placed her rose into a bud vase then poured two mugs of coffee from a
carafe. Her hands were a bit shaky, and she covered by pushing the sugar and
creamer containers toward Sam rather than attempting to spoon the contents
herself. Sam pretended to ignore Marla’s increasing weakness, turning to remove
her coat and hanging it over one of the kitchen chairs. She held up the folder.
“Sheriff Cardwell gave me this.
His department ran out of leads a long time ago, but he said it was okay if I
did some asking around.”
“Thank you.” Marla’s voice came
out tight and high. “It means so much to me.”
Sam bit her lip. “I really can’t
promise
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