Page 56 of A Talent for Murder

“Plus, you want to live as long as possible.”

“I suppose I do. Live to see another food delivery, at least.”

“I might be able to do better than a meatball sub,” Ethan said, and in my peripheral vision I saw him stand and walk away from me.

Chapter28

Tohickon, as far as Henry could tell, consisted of a post office, one school, one library, one gas station with a convenience store attached, one covered bridge, and one bar near it called the Covered Bridge Bar. He drove slowly down its streets and roads, past split-level houses and the occasional Victorian. The cars parked in front of these houses were American-made and a few years old, for the most part. Several houses had multiple cars in front of them, including old junkers on concrete blocks in front yards.

On the drive from Philadelphia, Henry, realizing he should have asked this earlier, called Chris Salah at the gallery.

“Chris, it’s Ted Lockwood again. One more thing that I should have asked you. What kind of car does Charnock drive?”

“Oh, it’s a beauty,” Chris said. “A Jaguar. Vintage, I think, with two doors. He loves that car more than he loves his wife.”

“What color is it?”

“It’s green. A greeny-gray, I suppose. Or a gray-green. It’s very sporty.”

So as Henry drove slowly down the rutted roads of Tohickon, peering at houses and driveways, he was looking for gray-green Jaguars, even though what he was seeing was a lot of single-car garages. He imagined that if Ethan/Robert owned a house in this town, he might keep the Jaguar out of sight.

At just before noon, Henry parked in the town center across from the Covered Bridge Bar, hoping it would be open for lunch. He stared at the map of Tohickon he’d pulled up on his phone and thought he’d driven down just about every street in town. He was surprised, somehow, that no one had noticed and called the cops on him, but then again, it was a cold gray Saturday and Tohickon did feel like a ghost town.

He’d been putting off calling Lily’s parents all morning but decided that he needed to do it now. He called the number Sharon had called him from the night before, and after two rings she picked up.

“Sharon, hi, it’s Henry Kimball,” he said. “Any news?”

“She’s gone, Henry. The police have been through the woods and everything and there’s no sign of her. David’s beside himself. I just can’t imagine where she would have gone without telling us first.”

“So, the police have been helpful?”

“Well, they haven’t found her, but they are looking. She hasn’t gotten in touch with you?”

“She hasn’t,” Henry said.

“Okay,” she said, and sighed. “I’ll tell the police that. They asked if she had a boyfriend, and I told them about you.”

“Oh,” he said, about to add that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but he didn’t think it mattered. “I’ll call you if I hear anything from her,” he said. “And you’ll do the same?”

“I will,” she said.

After the phone call, Henry sat in the car. His bones felt empty, like they knew already that Lily was dead. He stayed in the car, not particularly hungry but keeping an eye on the bar across the street. He was out of options and decided it was time to start interviewing residents. At noon he saw a figure move in front of the plate-glass door, flipping a sign to say they were now open for business.

The inside was cheerier than he thought it would be. Wood-paneled walls, a horseshoe-shaped bar, and several booths with high backs and cushioned seats. He took a seat at the bar. Above the bottles was a faded painting of Tohickon’s covered bridge. He looked around and saw that covered bridges, paintings of them anyway, and a few replicas, were the central design theme. An older woman with short gray hair asked him what he’d liked to drink.

“Do you have fresh coffee?” he said.

“I don’t right now, hon, but if you’re willing to wait ten minutes, I can make some.”

He said he was and she disappeared through a swinging door. While she was gone, the front door opened and a lone man entered. He was large and had a florid face and sat three stools away from Henry, making puffing sounds as he settled onto his stool. When the bartender came back out, she spotted him and went immediately to the refrigerator under the bar and grabbed a bottle of Coors Light.

“How are you, Norman?” she said, uncapping the bottle and placing it down in front of him.

“Still feels like winter out there. I thought someone had said something about spring.”

He sipped at his beer. The bartender said, “Juan made chili this morning if you’re interested, so that might warm you up.” She placed a lowball glass on the bar next to the Coors Light and added a shot of Jameson’s to it.

“Ah, thank you, Mo,” Norman said.

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