One Was a Soldier

“I’m looking for Wyler McNabb.” She tried not to raise her own voice. “Is he working today?”

“Naw, he’s off for a few weeks. Try him at home.” The line went dead.

She stared at her cell, frowning. “Talkative guy.”

“Don’t worry about it. At least we know he’s not on the job.” Flynn handed her the notebook. “Do me a favor. Figure out who on the list is closest to us if we strike out on the first contact.”

The first person listed was a co-worker. When they got to the address, a small house on Meersham Street, the only person home was a harried wife with a baby on her hip and a toddler shrieking behind her. Her look of alarm melted into an expression of relief when they asked about McNabb. “Don’t know, and don’t care,” she said. “We didn’t move in the same circles.”

The next person on Flynn’s list was labeled “drinking buddy.” He lived in a much rattier house on South Street, and his expression wasn’t so much alarm as it was sullen suspicion. He, too, looked relieved when they asked about McNabb, although in his case, Hadley figured it was relief that they weren’t after him.

“I dunno where he is. I heard he was feeling pretty lousy.” The drinking buddy rubbed his chin. “I wonder if he mighta gone to Tally’s mom’s house? She’s a LPN. What with Tally being gone, she mighta taken him home for a little whaddaya call it.”

“TLC?” Flynn said.

“Yeah. They always got on well. Mrs. Walters is pretty laid-back. Not like Wyler’s mom.” He shuddered.

Hadley glanced at Flynn. It sounded like a solid lead. “What’s her address?” she asked.

“Fifty-two MacEachron Hill Road. Up in Cossayuharie.”

Hadley kept her face neutral while Flynn thanked the guy. They got back into the cruiser. Buckled up. Pulled away from the curb. As soon as Hadley was sure she couldn’t be seen, she turned to Flynn. “Did you hear that? The same place with the B and E last night!”

He grinned at her. “Oh, man. Maybe we’ll have a major theft fall right in our laps.”

“You know what the chief says.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” they chorused.

Flynn’s notes had more details than hers, including the complainant’s name, Evonne Walters. Paul Urquhart had taken the call last night around eleven. A search of the area turned up nothing-knowing Paul, the search probably consisted of him waving his flashlight around the yard-and the complainant believed nothing had been taken. There hadn’t been any mention of a connection to Tally McNabb, which didn’t surprise her. She had heard Paul say that asking questions only led to more work.

They drove through fields and woodlots as they wound their way up MacEachron Hill Road. Most of the residences they passed were slightly sagging farmhouses, where solid nineteenth-century construction managed to keep the worst ravages of time and poverty at bay. Tally McNabb’s mother’s house, on the other hand, looked like something out of Traditional Homes magazine. The roof was so new it gleamed like fresh blacktop in July; the deep, wide gutters emptied into neat gravel beds; the windows were period reproduction, with built-in storms and freshly painted shutters.

“Geez,” Flynn said.

Hadley nodded. “Unless LPNs get paid a lot more than I thought, I think we know where some of the stolen loot went.”

They got out of the cruiser. At the door-also recently painted, with bright hardware and a fancy, chime-playing bell-Flynn stepped back, letting Hadley take point.

The woman who answered looked as if she belonged in one of those other houses-shabby, weathered, but with strong bones. She blinked at them. “May I help you?”

“Ms. Walters? I’m Officer Knox of the Millers Kill Police, and this is Officer Flynn. May we come in?”

“I already talked with one of your officers last night.” Even as she spoke, the woman opened the door wider and made space for them. “There wasn’t anything missing. I was more scared’n anything else.” Flynn tucked his hat beneath his arm as she ushered them into the kitchen. “I guess you always think nothing bad can happen out here in the country. Tally told me I ought to get a security alarm, living out here on my own.” Her voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Hadley said. “I can’t imagine anything worse than the death of a child.”

The woman nodded. Glanced at Hadley’s ringless finger. “You have children?”

“Two. A boy and a girl.”

There was a clatter on the stairs, and a young man in his late teens or early twenties loped into the kitchen. “Ma? What’s going on?”

“My youngest, Danny. These officers came about the break-in.”

“Did you find out who did it already?”

Hadley shook her head. “It’s under investigation. Are you the only other person living here, Danny?”

“I don’t live here. I’m a sophomore at Kenyon. In Ohio.”

His mother put her arm around him. “First in the family to go to college.”

He hugged his mom back without embarrassment. Hadley liked that. “I was planning on heading back this weekend, but I hate to leave Ma alone with this hanging over her head.”

“Danny’s worried it might’a been one of those crazy people who thinks God kills soldiers ’cause we got gay people in the USA.”

Hadley decided to fudge a bit. “We think it’s more likely someone who read that your daughter died and was hoping to steal some valuables in the confusion. It happens sometimes.” The first time she had dealt with one-the burglary of a house left empty for a funeral-she had thought a human being couldn’t go much lower.

Evidently Ms. Walters agreed with her. The woman’s face screwed up in disgust. “Well, if that don’t beat all.”

“Did your daughter ever use your house for storage? Leave anything here for safekeeping?”

“When she was deployed, yes. I was the one kept her checkbook and paid what bills came due while she was in Iraq.”

“Not her husband?” Kevin asked.

Mrs. Walters hesitated. “He’s not so good with that sort of thing.” She smiled a little. “Those two were together since tenth grade. Ten years later, Mary was still head-over-heels for Wyler. Never mind in some ways he’s still in high school.”

Danny made a face that suggested he minded his brother-in-law’s immaturity.

“Anything else?” Hadley asked. “Other than the checkbook?”

“The cars,” Danny said.

“Well, if the burglar was after the cars, he wun’t too smart, now, was he? Looking in the house instead of the garage.”

Flynn glanced at Hadley before looking at the Walterses. “What vehicles are you talking about?”

“Wyler and Tally’s cars. They keep them-” Danny caught himself. “They kept them here when they were both overseas. Wyler and I brought them up here yesterday.”

“I want you to have her SUV. It’ll be a load off my mind to not have you driving halfway ’cross the country in that old beater of yours.”

“Ma-”

“You brought both their cars here?” Hadley frowned. “Why?”

Danny looked at them. “Wyler’s gone back over. To join the construction team in Iraq. He left yesterday.”

***

Clare hadn’t intended to swing by the Stuyvesant Inn on the way back from the Infirmary. Her plan to fit in a short visit with two of her elderly parishioners expanded as she saw one senior that she knew, and then another, so that twenty minutes became an hour and a half of looking at photos and holding hands and listening to stories. Then the nursing director, Paul Foubert, had dragged her into his office to complain that she and Russ weren’t registered anywhere and to unsubtly interrogate her about the perfect wedding gift.

“Nothing, Paul. We don’t need anything. Make a donation to a good cause in our names if you have to do something.”