Sue Grafton - S is for Silence

If speculation about the depth and angle was correct, the car was tilted beneath the surface like a sunken submarine, hung up on an underwater shelf. That being the case, the roof of the car and the top edge of the windshield would be approximately two paces back and some two and a half feet deep. To test the theory, Nichols whistled the young deputy over, handed him the shovel, and directed him to dig. He set to work, keeping his cuts shallow. Fifteen minutes later, the blade of his shovel scraped the surface of the roof.

There was a long debate about the use of an excavator, a motion that was quickly ratified. The idea of freeing the vehicle by hand was out of the question. The ID detective radioed and a deputy was dispatched to A-Okay Heavy Equipment to ask Padgett if he had one available. This generated an additional delay while the excavator was located, loaded on a low-boy flatbed truck, and driven out from town.

Tannie and I retired to her car, now parked a hundred yards down the road. We sat with the windows rolled down and ate our deli sandwiches, calling it lunch though it was already 4:00 P.M. I had no idea how word got out, but a trickle of people appeared, and before long the road was lined with vehicles. Two deputies controlled public access to the scene, which had been sealed off with tape. Steve Ottweiler arrived and he joined us, talking to his sister through the open window of her car. She said, “Does Pop know?”

“I called him and he’s on his way out. Let me go see what Tim Schaefer has to say. He’ll know more than we do.”

Steve crossed the road. Schaefer was standing in a small knot of men. During the course of their conversation, the flatbed truck arrived. Tom Padgett had followed in his car, and he supervised the off-loading of the compact John Deere excavator, after which the equipment operator was the only one allowed in the magic circle. Padgett was relegated to the sidelines in the same way we were, which seemed to annoy him no end. For the next hour, we watched in amazement as the operator maneuvered his equipment with the delicacy of a surgeon. He was directed by whistles and hand signals, his skill such that he could scrape as little as an inch or as much as a foot of dirt from the hole on command.

Ken Rice found a ride home while Schaefer remained. He stood sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup someone managed to provide. Even retired, he was drawn to the drama unfolding before our eyes. Jake Ottweiler pulled up and parked his car down the road. His son walked out to meet him and the two returned to Tim Schaefer’s side. Having worked for the sheriff’s department for thirty-some-odd years, he was the reigning civilian expert. I noticed BW McPhee was on hand, having appeared at some point. I also caught a glimpse of Winston, but didn’t have a chance to make eye contact before he disappeared again. A local TV station sent a crew, and Detective Nichols gave a brief, uninformative statement, essentially referring the reporter to the sheriff for further comment.

At 5:45 Daisy arrived. Tannie and I got out of the car and waved her over. She joined us, looking pale and subdued. She was still in her work clothes, navy slacks, a cotton sweater, and sensible low-heeled shoes. She was chewing on her thumbnail again but lowered her hand self-consciously when she caught sight of me. She tucked her fingers out of sight and shifted from foot to foot as though to warm herself. She hadn’t heard about my tires being slashed, so we talked about that just to get her mind off what was going on. “I don’t like the sound of it.”

“It’s a bit melodramatic, but I took it as a good sign,” I said.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

“I was expecting to head home, but now I think I’ll hang out until we know what we’ve got down there.”

“You can’t go back to the Sun Bonnet.”

“No, but there are other motels.”

“Spend the night at my place. Tannie leaves first thing tomorrow morning. You’ll survive one night on the couch. I’ve done it before myself. Meanwhile, we can lock your car in my garage and get it off the street in case the son of a bitch comes looking for it.”

“If I stay, I’ll either need to do laundry or borrow some underwear.”

“We’ll do both.”

“This is such guy stuff. I love it,” Tannie remarked, taking in the various gatherings of men.

Detective Nichols joined Tim Schaefer on the far side of the road, introducing himself to Jake and Steve Ottweiler. After a few more minutes of conversation, Nichols returned to us. He knew by then that the Ottweilers owned the property and that Daisy was the only child of the missing Violet Sullivan. He introduced himself to Daisy, and I could see her taking him in-glasses, clean-shaven, nice smile. There was a shift in her posture. Clearly she found him attractive.

He glanced at the clusters of onlookers out by the road. Even with their limited line of sight, there was something compelling about the work. “I’m about to have the deputies clear these people out of here. This is not a spectator sport. If we need to bring in additional equipment or manpower, I don’t want to have to work around all the looky- loos and parked cars. I’m going to have you give the deputy contact numbers in case I need to get in touch. I’d appreciate your keeping quiet about anything you’ve seen or heard. We don’t want details getting out. The less information we have in circulation, the better.”

“It’s all right if we stay?” Daisy asked.

“As long as you do what you’re told and keep out of the way.”

“How long will it take? I know you can’t say exactly…”

“I’m guessing two days. No point being hasty and damaging the car beyond what nature’s already done.”

“But you haven’t found anything?”

“Not so far. I understand your concern about your mother and I’ll keep you informed. As soon as we free the car, we’ll take it to the impound lot. We’ve got a storage facility, where we can warehouse the vehicle while we go over it. Right now we have no idea what evidence we’ll find, if any, after all this time. What about your father; have you talked to him?”

Daisy shook her head. “I came right from work. I assume somebody’s called him by now, but maybe not. I’m sure he’d be here if he knew.”

“One thing I’ll need to ask him-or maybe this is something you can tell me yourself-do you recall what your mother was wearing the day she disappeared?”

“A sundress. Lavender cotton with white polka dots. Leather sandals and thin silver bracelets, six of them. I don’t actually remember any of it. It was in the report my father filed at the time.” She seemed so tense, I expected her teeth to chatter. “Are you going to tell me if she’s down there?”

“I’d do that, of course. You have a right to know.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

As he walked away, she tracked his departure with a calculating eye. “Well, he’s cute. Married, no doubt.”

Tannie laughed. “Just your kind of guy. Too bad he works. He’d be perfect for you.”

Within minutes, we could see two deputies encouraging bystanders to move on. People began to drift away. Car doors slammed, engines coughed to life, and one by one the crowd dispersed. In truth, at that remove, there wasn’t much to see. The excavation was being treated like an archaeological dig-sketched, diagrammed, measured, photographed, and documented with a video camera as well. Two-man teams were set up, and as each scoop of dirt was freed, it was loaded into one of two sieves, shaken, and sifted for physical evidence.

At dusk, portable generators were brought in and high-intensity lights were set up. By then Daisy was shivering.

I linked my arm through hers. “Let’s get out of here. They’re not going to find anything tonight. You’re freezing and I’m starving. Plus, I gotta pee so bad I’m about to wet my pants.”