Harry
“Mrs. Mason called,” Rudy said, coasting by Harry’s open office door in his wheeled chair.
“Any idea what she wants?”
Rudy glanced at his watch. “It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?” The cop scooted himself back to his desk.
Harry glanced at Alex across their desks. He now shared an office with his new partner. A second desk had been crammed into the tiny room and butted up to his. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll drive.”
“Where are we going?” Alex asked, grabbing his coat.
“You’ll see. It’s Wednesday.”
“Yeah, I know,” he raised an eyebrow, “and in another week, it will also be Wednesday.”
Harry smirked. “Smart ass.”
They headed out to Harry’s tan Buick and drove to Colette Mason’s house.
“Tell me something. There’s one thing I don’t get about the Lund case,” Harry said as he pulled onto Colette’s street.
“What’s that?” Alex stroked his jawline.
“Why did that asshole believe you were his nephew?”
“He was an idiot.”
“Agreed, but what gives?”
“He had an estranged sister who had OD’d and a nephew he’d never met. She was about ten years older than her brother.”
“What happened to the real nephew? Is he even still alive?”
“FBI agent, so he couldn’t go undercover. Conflict of interest.”
“Um?”
“Yeah,” Alex laughed. “Pretty fucked up.”
Harry shook his head and pulled into the woman’s driveway. Alex was first onto her porch and knocked on the door. Harry trotted up the two steps. Colette yelled from somewhere inside the house, “Be there in a minute!”
She swung the door open and confusion crossed over the frail looking white-haired woman’s face. Harry put himself in front of Alex. “Hi, Mrs. Mason, I’m Detective Hunter and this is my partner Detective Kingswood.” Harry held up his badge and Collette read it, squinting. “Can you tell me what the problem is today?” He knew what she was going to say.
“Come in, let me make you some tea.”
“I’m not much of a tea drinker. Do you have coffee?”
Alex looked confused and mouthed, What are you doing?
“Of course I have coffee.” Colette opened the screen door, allowing him and Alex inside.
Harry took a seat on the French blue living room couch, the kind with the fancy clawed feet. His partner stood by one of the high-backed chairs. She waddled into the kitchen. The men smirked at each other and Alex said, “What’s going on here?”
Harry put his finger up to his lips. “Shhh, you’ll see.”
A few minutes later, coffee aroma filled the small ranch. Mrs. Mason carried a silver tray in which the cups and saucers rattled because of her shaky hands. She placed the tray down on the coffee table and Alex helped steady it. The tray landed with a thump and a clang anyway. Harry covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a chuckle. With her cup of coffee, she took a seat on a chair.
“So,” Harry began, “what can we help you with today?”
She glanced at Alex then looked at Harry and whispered like she didn’t trust his much younger partner, “My husband is gone.”
“How long has he been missing?” Alex asked.
“Oh, I’m not quite sure. This morning—”
Alex flipped open a field notebook. “What time did you see him last?”
Colette ignored the question.
“Mrs. Mason, I need to show you something. Can you take a ride with us?” Harry said. He motioned with a slight head shake for Alex to put the notebook away.
What? he mouthed. Although, it was more like ‘what’s wrong with you?’
Harry waved him off while she wasn’t looking.
“You must find my James, he’s lost without me.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Alex offered. “Has he ever gone missing before?”
“Oh, no.” She placed her hand over her heart.
Harry set his cup down and so did she. “Ready?”
Mrs. Mason nodded.
Once the three of them were in the Buick, Harry drove them through town, past Ink Addiction and Cocoa, until they reached the cemetery. The car turned onto the driveway and rolled past the tall gates. His car almost navigated the route without him even having to steer. Toward the back of the graveyard, Harry veered onto a car path on their left. He parked the car and they all stepped out.
“Why are we here?” Alex asked. A question Harry ignored.
Silently, Harry took Mrs. Mason’s arm and guided her over to a plot with a large headstone. Alex smiled tightly when he realized what was happening.
“Colette, listen to me,” Harry said. “Your husband died.”
She sniffled and read the headstone. “James Mason, 1934–2010…Colette Mason, 1938…that’s my name on there.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Alex said.
She stayed quiet, staring at the tombstone. “Dead, huh? Good. Make sure they don’t bury me next to that sonofabitch, will ya?” Colette marched back to the car, leaving them eyeing each other for a moment.
Alex roared with a contagious laughter. And even though it was unprofessional Harry laughed too. He loved his job.