Theo absorbed this. He was stunned, relieved, and he couldn’t suppress a grin. As Ike went on, Theo felt the tension ease in his chest and stomach.
“The police are going to make the announcement at nine this morning. I thought you might appreciate a little head start.”
“Thanks, Ike.”
“But they will not admit the obvious, and that is to say that they’ve wasted the last two days with the theory that Jack Leeper took the girl, killed her, and tossed her in the river. Leeper is nothing but a lying thug, and the cops allowed themselves to chase the wrong man. This will not be mentioned by the police.”
“Who told you all this?” Theo asked, and immediately knew it was the wrong question because it would not be answered.
Ike smiled, rubbed his red eyes, took a gulp of coffee, and said, “I have friends, Theo, and not the same friends I had years ago. My friends now are from a different part of town. They’re not in the big buildings and fine homes. They’re closer to the street.”
Theo knew that Ike played a lot of poker, and his pals included some retired lawyers and policemen. Ike also liked to give the impression that he had a large circle of shady friends who watched everything from the shadows, and thus knew the street talk. There was some truth to this. The previous year, one of his clients was convicted for operating a small-time drug ring. Ike got his name in the paper when he was called to testify as the man’s bookkeeper.
“I hear a lot of stuff, Theo,” he added.
“Then who’s the guy they pulled from the river?”
Another sip of coffee. “We’ll probably never know. They’ve gone two hundred miles upriver and found no record of a missing person in the past month. You ever hear of the Bates’s case?”
“No.”
“Probably forty years ago.”
“I’m thirteen years old, Ike.”
“Right. Anyway, it happened over in Rooseburg. A crook named Bates faked his own death one night. Somehow snatched an unknown person, knocked him out, put this person in his car, a nice Cadillac, then ran it into a ditch and set it on fire. The police and firemen show up and the car is nothing but flames. They find a pile of cremated ashes and figure it’s Mr. Bates. They have a funeral, a burial, the usual. Mrs. Bates collects the life insurance. Mr. Bates is forgotten until three years later when he’s arrested in Montana outside a bar. They haul him back to face the music here. He pleads guilty. The big question is-who was the guy who got fried in his car? Mr. Bates says he doesn’t know, never got the boy’s name, just picked him up one night as a hitchhiker. Three hours later, the boy was reduced to ashes. Guess he got in the wrong car. Bates gets life in prison.”
“What’s the point here, Ike?”
“The point, my dear nephew, is that we may never know who the cops pulled from the river. There’s a class of people out there, Theo-bums, drifters, hobos, homeless folk-who live in the underworld. They’re nameless, faceless; they move from town to town, hopping trains, hitchhiking, living in the woods and under the bridges. They’ve dropped out of society, and from time to time bad things happen to them. It’s a rough and violent world they inhabit, and we rarely see them, because they do not wish to be seen. My guess is that the corpse the cops are inspecting will never be identified. But that’s really not the point. The good news is that it’s not your friend.”
“Thanks, Ike. I don’t know what else to say.”
“I thought you might need some good news.”
“It’s very good news, Ike. I’ve been worried sick.”
“She your girlfriend?”
“No, just a good friend. She has a weird family and I guess I’m one of the few kids she confides in.”
“She’s lucky to have a friend like you, Theo.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Ike relaxed and put his feet on his desk. Sandals again, with bright red socks. He sipped his coffee and smiled at Theo. “How much do you know about her father?”
Theo squirmed and wasn’t sure what to say. “I met him once, at their house. April’s mother threw a birthday party for her a couple of years ago. It was a disaster because most of the kids didn’t show up. The other parents didn’t like the idea of them going to the Finnemores’ house. But I was there, me and three others, and her dad was hanging around. He had long hair and a beard and seemed uncomfortable around us kids. April told me a lot over the years. He comes and goes and she’s happier when he’s not around. He plays the guitar and writes songs-bad songs according to April-and still has the dream of making it big as a musician.”
“I know the guy,” Ike said smugly. “Or, I should say, I know of him.”
“How’s that?” Theo asked, not really surprised that Ike knew another strange person.
“I have a friend who plays music with him occasionally, says he’s a deadbeat. Spends a lot of time with a ragtag band of middle-aged losers. They take little tours, playing in bars and fraternity houses. I suspect there are some drugs involved.”
“That sounds right. April told me he was missing one time for a whole month. I think he and Mrs. Finnemore fight a lot. It’s a very unhappy family.”
Ike slowly got to his feet and walked to the stereo mounted in a bookcase. He pushed a button, and some folk music began playing quietly in the background. Ike spoke as he fiddled with the volume, “Well, if you ask me, the police need to check out the father. He probably got the girl and took off somewhere.”
“I’m not sure April would leave with him. She didn’t like him and didn’t trust him.”
“Why hasn’t she tried to contact you? Doesn’t she have a cell phone, a laptop? Don’t you kids chat nonstop online?”
“The police found her laptop in her room, and her parents would not allow her to have a cell phone. She told me once that her father hates cell phones and doesn’t use one. He doesn’t want to be found when he’s on the road. I’m sure she would try and contact me if she could. Maybe whoever took her won’t let her get near a phone.”
Ike sat down again and looked at a notepad on his desk. Theo needed to get to school, which was ten minutes away by bike if he hit all the shortcuts.
“I’ll see what I can find out about the father,” Ike said. “Call me after school.”
“Thanks, Ike. And, I suppose this is top secret, right, this great news about April?”
“Why should it be a secret? In about an hour the police will make the announcement. If you ask me, they should’ve informed the public last night. But, no, the police like to put on press conferences, make everything as dramatic as possible. I don’t care who you tell. The public has the right to know.”
“Great. I’ll call Mom on the way to school.”
Chapter 12
Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Mount got his homeroom quiet and settled, which was not as difficult as usual. The boys were again subdued. There was a lot of gossip, but it was more of the whispered variety. Mr. Mount looked at them, and then said, gravely, “Men, Theo has an update on April’s disappearance.”
Theo stood slowly and walked to the front of the class. One of his favorite trial lawyers in town was a man named Jesse Meelbank. When Mr. Meelbank had a trial, Theo tried to watch as much as possible. The summer before, there was a long trial in which Mr. Meelbank sued a railroad company for the tragic death of a young woman, and Theo watched nonstop for nine days. It was awesome. What he loved about Mr. Meelbank was the way he carried himself in the courtroom. He moved gracefully, but with a purpose, never in a hurry but never wasting time. When he was ready to speak, he looked at the witness, or the judge or jury, and he paused dramatically before saying the first word. And when he spoke, his tone was friendly, conversational, seemingly off the cuff, but not a single word, phrase, or syllable was wasted. Everyone listened to Jesse Meelbank, and he seldom lost a case. Often, when Theo was alone in his bedroom or office (with the door locked), he liked to address the jury in some dramatic, make-believe case, and he always imitated Mr. Meelbank.
