The Dead Don't Get Out Much by Mary Jane Maffini Page A

anything in it.”
    I agreed, although to be fair, we were grasping at straws here.
    He said, “It's hard to know what's missing if you don't know what was there in the first place. I have no idea what Violet kept in her suitcases.”
    â€œMe neither. You raise a good point, Alvin. Something is missing. Something's not quite right. Look around. What do we not see that we should see?”
    His eyes misted. “I don't know.”
    â€œWe'll figure it out. Stay calm, that's our main tactic.”
    Alvin sniffed noisily. “If you can call it a tactic.”
    â€œIt's what we have.”
    Minutes later, back in the living room, while I stood staring at the CD cases with my mind a perfect blank, Alvin said, “That's it!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe photos!”
    â€œOh, right. Her war photos. Where are they?”
    We both pivoted around.
    Alvin said, “Do you think she just moved them?”
    â€œThey're always right here on the bookcase, place of honour,” I said.
    â€œMaybe she was looking at them before the ceremony. Perhaps she wanted to honour her old friends, and she just put them down somewhere. Let's take a look.”
    It doesn't take all that long to comb through a one-bedroom apartment, particularly if you've already checked it out several times within the hour.
    â€œNot here,” Alvin said.
    â€œOkay,” I said, “thinking strategically, which Mrs. Parnell would want us to do, there's probably some connection with those photos and her departure.”
    â€œSounds good,” said Alvin. “What do you think it is?”
    â€œNo idea. We have to start somewhere. It's better to be off-base than to sit staring at our navels.”
    â€œSo maybe she went to see someone in the photo?”
    â€œYes. Let's operate on that principle.”
    â€œYou're starting to talk like Violet,” Alvin said. “What's that about?”
    â€œI don't know. Back to business. Let's start with what we've almost got. Who was in those photographs?” I closed my eyes and tried to imagine them.
    â€œThere was one of her husband. Two actually,” Alvin said. “There was another photo of some people in Canadian uniforms overseas, maybe in England. She never talked about them, though. I asked her once, and she changed the subject. She likes talking about the war, although it made her sad, I think, to talk about the people in the photos.”
    â€œI imagine that some of the boys in uniform never made it back from the war.”
    â€œHer husband came back, but he didn't live all that long after,” said Alvin. “She doesn't talk about him either.”
    â€œShe talked to me once about being widowed and trying to move on with one's life. She was trying to help me, I think.” I didn't mention that a large quantity of Bristol Cream had preceded the discussion.
    Alvin said, “Okay, we still don't have much to go on.”
    â€œHold on. Back to the photos. Either the person who broke in here took them, or Mrs. P. did.”
    â€œWho would leave electronics and take photos?”
    â€œGood point,” I said nicely. “We have to assume it was Mrs. P. Let's suppose she was going to see someone who was in the photo, and she just wanted it with her to show them.”
    â€œWe still don't know who she was going to see.”
    â€œRight, so if we had even one clue as to who the people were, we could contact them to see if they've heard from her.”
    Alvin said, “She grew up in Chesterton, down past Kingston. Is that any help? I guess not, after all these years.”
    I slapped my forehead. “Of course, her address book. What is the matter with us?”
    Alvin said, “There's nothing wrong with me . I already thought of that. Violet keeps her address book by the phone. There's no sign of it.”
    â€œShe must have taken it with her.”
    I narrowly avoided being knocked over by Alvin as he sprinted to the