Ames.”
“Concerning?”
“As you are probably aware, I can’t really divulge any details about a case—”
“—Come now, Mr. Longville. I don’t really care who these people are. But can’t you at least tell me the nature of the matter you are looking into?”
She sounded pretty anxious. That was interesting.
“It concerns their daughter, a young girl who is missing. Mr. Fain’s name, um, came up.”
There was another pause, this one more marked. When she spoke again, Anelda Ames voice was quick, decided. “I’ll give you my address. Come over and I’ll answer any questions that you might have, Mr. Longville.”
She hung up without another word. I stared at the phone for a second. Ms. Ames apparently had some information that she wished to share, and some private reason driving her desire to do so. Something about the nature of the case had decided the issue for her. Maybe she had waited a long time to tell whatever was on her mind.
Outside, the rain hissed over the windows. I got to my feet and went back out into the cold.
* * *
White Oak Lane was a cul-de-sac in the midst of an enclave of upper middle class houses. It was very suburban and quiet. Ms. Ames home was a split-level brick arrangement, with an immaculate yard. Tiny oriental style lighting fixtures adorned a cobble-stone walkway that led to the front door.
I rang the doorbell and stood back. Inside, the chimes played the opening chords to Pirates of Penzance. After a moment, the door opened. A trim, fit lady in her late 40’s greeted me with a quiet smile. She was still quite lovely, and smartly dressed in a light gray blouse and skirt. A single strand of tiny pearls adorned her graceful neck. The pearls matched a streak of white in her otherwise still sandy brown hair. Her bright green eyes regarded me intently, but her smile was friendly and open.
“Mr. Longville?”
“That’s right. Ms. Ames, I presume?”
She nodded slightly. “Please do come in.”
I stepped inside. She gestured politely toward a recliner before seating herself on the couch. She was possessed of a very refined air. Like a ballerina, I decided. When she was younger, and perhaps not all that much younger, she must have been a very beautiful woman, I thought. I wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t.
“So, Mr. Longville. Whatever is the mystery that’s brought you out on a day like this?”
“How women are staying so young-looking nowadays.”
The flesh around her nose crinkled in a girlish smile.
“Do go on, Mr. Longville.”
I had decided to change my stratagem. It wasn’t anything that would win an award at the Private Eye convention, but something about Anelda Ames’ reaction to my questions on the phone had convinced me to tell her the details of the case I was working on. In short, I thought I could trust her.
“Well, it’s like this. On my way over here, I decided to level with you, Ms. Ames. My services have been retained by the Champion family of Mountainbrook. They have hired me to investigate their daughter’s disappearance. Of course I’m reviewing the evidence. It’s all been gone over before, but I have been looking at some . . . older evidence. Samson’s name came up. No one is accusing him of anything. I was just hoping to talk to him about it.”
“Oh, I see.” A strange expression came over her face, “The little girl. I suppose it was really me that you needed to talk to all along.” Her tone was questioning in a way, but carried a strange weight.
“Actually, until today, Ms. Ames, I had no idea you existed. In the course of investigation, I’ve uncovered a couple of facts that were overlooked by the police. It might amount to nothing.”
“You found out about his past, didn’t you.”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck beginning to rise.
“His past?”
She gave me a dazzling smile. It reduced her apparent age by ten years.
“Oh, then maybe I spoke too soon.” The smile suddenly vanished, like the
Mandy M. Roth, Michelle M. Pillow