door.”
William flipped his notebook shut. “The manager says Tom didn’t get the chance to just walk out because he was passing by as Tom took possession of the money. Together they prepared the envelope as soon as the couple left.”
“So it’s Bill Bond’s word against Tom’s.” Edie eyed William.
He nodded.
“Now there’s a tough call.” Edie was derisive. “Bill Bond is not the most stable of men.”
“Why do you say that?” William asked.
“Tom’s told me lots of Bill Bond stories. One day he’s fine, the next he’s not. One day he’s your friend, the next he’s out for your hide. He’s difficult to work under, very egocentric. Not that he does anything illegal. He just likes to ride awfully close to the line. Obviously he has finally crossed it.”
William said nothing.
“What?” Edie asked. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Edie,” William said gently. “Bill Bond is here to talk to. Tom isn’t.”
THREE
Tears sprang to Edie’s eyes as William made his pronouncement, and next thing I knew, I was patting her shoulder.
When in doubt, pat.
“I’m sorry, Edie.” William looked sad but stoic. “I have to consider the facts, not feelings or instincts. Bill Bond may not be the world’s most charming man, but he hasn’t disappeared.”
Edie looked resigned. “I know. It’s just that Tom is such a good man! He’d never take eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars. It isn’t even logical. Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars isn’t worth ruining your life over.”
“What if he wanted to disappear? Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars would be a good starting point.”
“But why should he want to disappear?” Edie obviously found the idea incomprehensible.
“People disappear all the time. They want to get out of dead-end jobs, dead-end towns.” He looked at her carefully. “Dead-end relationships and marriages.”
Edie’s head jerked like William had slapped her. “Never! We have a wonderful marriage. And believe me, because of past experience, I know good when I see it.”
William nodded noncommittally.
“It’s true, William. It’s true! Tell him, Merry.”
“It sure looks like a good marriage to me,” I said, glad that this time I could answer the question.
William listened politely to me, then turned back to Edie. “Tell me about Tom, please.”
Edie took a deep breath. “He’s wonderful, caring, encouraging. He’s gentle—”
“Not character traits,” William said. “His history, family background, things like that.”
Edie became engrossed in studying her fingernails. I thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer William. Of course, she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, at least not without a lawyer present. I wondered briefly what old Mr. Grassley of Grassley, Jordan and McGilpin would think about being called out in the middle of the night.
Then Edie spoke, and Mr. Grassley was allowed to sleep.
“I really can’t help you, William.” She glanced up from her nails, her face grim. “All I know is that Tom didn’t like to talk about his past. He said it was too painful.”
Too painful? Or was Tom harboring secrets? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like a traitor.
Edie studied her nails again, picking at a piece of frayed cuticle. “I know about painful pasts, so I’ve never pushed him.”
“You don’t even know where he was born? Where he lived before he came to Amhearst?”
“He was born in Philadelphia and lived in Camden, New Jersey, before he moved here.”
William smiled, the furrows of his face going through a seismic shift in the process. “See? You know things about him. When was he born?”
“He just celebrated his fortieth birthday on February 15.”
I waited to see if William would ask for his Social Security number and his mother’s maiden name. With that information, Tom’s name, birthplace and birth date, he could find out anything he wanted to know about Tom.
Then it occurred to me that Bill Bond could supply the Social Security number from the dealership’s financial records and that he’d probably do so with great enthusiasm. He wanted that money back.
Again I felt guilty because I was assuming Tom had the money. I was forgetting innocent until proven guilty. I determined to remember that a reporter is supposed to be unbiased and a friend is supposed to believe.
“Has he always been a car salesman?” William asked.
“I don’t know.”
“When did he move to Amhearst?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does his family live?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who are his friends?”
Edie’s head came up and her shoulders straightened. “Me.”
William looked at her for several ticks of the antique mantel clock. Edie held his stare. Then he gave a little smile. “Thanks for talking with me, Edie. If Tom comes home, please have him contact me immediately.” He handed her a card.
“When Tom comes home, he’ll call you immediately.”
After William was gone, Edie curled up in the corner of the blue sofa, hugging herself like she was trying to warm the chill inside.
“Where is he?” The tears she had controlled when William was here flowed down her cheeks unchecked. “Doesn’t he know how scared I am?”
I watched Edie and struggled with what to do with the information we had just received from Sergeant Poole. The missing money definitely made the missing man a news story. In fact, it made Tom a major story in a small town like Amhearst.
But Edie was my friend. How could I lay her pain before the whole county? But how could I not? I knew Mac would go with the story as soon as he became aware of it, and the fact that Edie was an employee of the News wouldn’t make any difference. In fact, it couldn’t be allowed to make a difference.
And wasn’t it better that I write the story than—than who? There was Edie or me. Or Mac. Obviously this story wasn’t one Edie could write. And it was definitely better that I write it than Mac. Given his major grouchiness these
