Sue Grafton: S is for Silence

“How about right now? My apartment’s only half a block away. Daisy can walk over from there quicker than you can drive.”

I elected to walk the six blocks to Sneaky Pete’s in a futile effort to delay the conversation. It was a typical September morning, the day destined to be a carbon copy of the days on either side: abundant sunshine after patchy morning clouds, with highs in the mid-seventies and lows sufficient to encourage sleeping under a down comforter at night. Above me, migrating birds, alerted by changes in the autumn light, were making a V-line to winter grounds. This was the upside of living in Southern California. The downside was living with monotony. Even perfect weather palls when that’s all there is.

That week, local law enforcement was preparing for the California Crime Prevention Officers Conference, which was set to run from Wednesday through Friday, and I knew Cheney Phillips, who worked Vice for the Santa Teresa Police Department, would be tied up for the duration. That suited me just fine. Being a woman with a prickly disposition, I was looking forward to the time alone. Cheney and I had been “dating” for the past three months, if that’s a word you want to use to describe a relationship between divorced singles in their late thirties. I wasn’t clear about his intentions, but I didn’t expect to marry again. Who needs the aggravation? All that togetherness can really get on your nerves.

Without even having heard Daisy’s long, sad tale, I could calculate the odds. I didn’t have a clue how to search for a woman who’d been missing for three decades. If she was alive, she must have had her reasons for running away, electing to keep her distance from her only child. Then, too, Violet’s husband was still around, so what was his deal? If he’d wanted her found, you’d think he’d have hired a PI himself instead of leaving it to Daisy all these years later. On the other hand, if he knew she was dead, why go through the motions when he could save himself the bucks?

My problem was that I liked Tannie, and if Daisy was a friend of hers, then she was automatically accorded a certain status in my eyes. Not much of one, I grant you, but enough for me to hear her out. Which is why, once we were introduced and I had my sandwich in front of me, I pretended to pay attention instead of drooling on myself. The kaiser roll had been buttered and laid on the grill until the bread was rich brown and crunchy at the edge. Rings of spicy salami had been soldered together with melted cheese-Monterey Jack infused with red pepper flakes. When I lifted the top, the yolk of the fried egg was still plump, and I knew it would ooze when I bit into it, soaking into the bread. It’s a wonder I didn’t groan at the very idea.

The two sat across the table. Tannie kept her comments to a minimum so Daisy and I would have the chance to connect. Looking at the woman, I had a hard time believing she was only two years younger than Tannie. At forty-three, Tannie’s skin showed the kind of fine lines that suggested too much cigarette smoke and not enough sun protection. Daisy had a pale, fine-boned face. Her eyes were small, a mild anxious blue, and her lank light-brown hair was pulled back and secured in a messy knot held together with a chopstick. Several loose strands were trailing from the knot, and I was hoping she’d remove the chopstick and have another go at it. Her posture was poor, her shoulders hunched, perhaps because she’d never had a mother nagging her to stand up straight. Her nails were bitten down so far it made me want to tuck my own fingertips into my palms for safekeeping.

While I savored my sandwich she picked away at hers, breaking off small portions she mounded on her plate. One out of three bites she’d put in her mouth while the others she set aside. I didn’t think I’d known her long enough to beg for one. So far I’d left her in charge of the conversation, but after thirty minutes of chitchat, she still hadn’t brought up the subject of her mom. This was my lunch hour. I didn’t have all day. I decided to jump in myself and get it over with. I wiped my hands on a paper napkin, crumpled it, and tucked it under the edge of my plate. “Tannie tells me you’re interested in locating your mother.”

Daisy glanced at her friend as though for encouragement. Having finished her meal, she started gnawing on her thumbnail in much the same way a smoker would light a cigarette.

Tannie gave her a quick smile. “Honestly, it’s fine. She’s here to listen.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s a long, complicated story.”

“I gathered as much. Why don’t you start by telling me what you want?”

Daisy’s gaze flicked across the room behind me as though she were looking for a way to bolt. I kept my eyes fixed politely on her face while she struggled to speak. I was trying to be patient, but silences like hers make me want to bite someone.

“You want… what?” I said, rolling my hand at her.

“I want to know if she’s alive or dead.”

“You have any intuitions about that?”

“None that I can trust. I don’t know which is worse. Sometimes I think one thing and sometimes the opposite. If she’s alive, I want to know where she is and why she’s never been in touch. If she’s dead, I might feel bad, but at least I’ll know the truth.”

“An answer either way would be a stretch by now.”

“I know, but I can’t live like this. I’ve spent my whole life wondering what happened to her, why she left, whether she wanted to come back but couldn’t for some reason.”

“Couldn’t?”

“Maybe she’s in prison or something like that.”

“There’s been absolutely no word from her in thirty-four years?”

“No.”

“No one’s seen her or heard from her.”

“Not that I know.”

“What about her bank account? No activity?”

Daisy shook her head. “She never had checking or savings accounts.”

“You realize the implications. She’s probably dead.”

“Then why weren’t we notified? She took her purse when she left. She had her California driver’s license. If she was in an accident, surely someone would have let us know.”

“Assuming she was found,” I said. “The world’s a big place. She might have driven off a cliff or she might be at the bottom of a lake. Now and then someone slips through the cracks. I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth.”

“I just keep thinking she might have been mugged or abducted, or maybe she had some disease. Maybe she ran away because she couldn’t face up to it. I know you’re wondering what difference it makes, but it matters to me.”

“Do you really believe she’ll be found after all this time?”

She leaned toward me. “Look, I have a good job at a good salary. I can afford whatever it takes.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the probabilities. I could waste a lot of my time and a shitload of your money, and at the end of it, you’d be right back where you are. I can as good as guarantee it.”

“I’m not asking for any kind of guarantee.”

“Then what?”

“Help me, that’s all. Please tell me you’ll try.”

I sat and stared at her. What was I supposed to say? The woman was earnest. I had to give her that. I looked down at my plate, then used an index finger to pick up a fallen glop of cheese that I put on my tongue. Still tasty. “Let me ask you this. Didn’t someone investigate the disappearance at the time?”

“The sheriff’s department.”

“Great. That’s good. Have you asked what they did?”

“That’s something I was hoping you’d do. I know my dad filled out a missing-persons report. I’ve seen a copy so I’m sure he talked to at least one detective, though I don’t remember his name. He’s retired now I think.”