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Chapter Twenty-Nine

The hostess at the Black Horse Pub had seated the three of us at a booth away from the bar, and our waitress had already brought the round of beers Alan ordered. He explained to Clare that the place was the best eatery in town, other than Dottie’s Café which only served breakfast and lunch.

“Earlier this summer,” he noted, “some guy wanted to buy this place and turn it into a gentleman’s club of sorts.”

“Do you mean like Hooters or something?” Clare asked.

Alan stifled a laugh. “Yes, exactly. Our daughter, Judy, who was a weeknight waitress here, quit when she was told she’d have to wear a skimpy outfit.”

Clare gazed around the room, then back to Alan. “I suppose that didn’t go over very well since the staff is fully clothed.”

“Right. The mayor got wind of the deal and put a stop to it. He actually found a clause in the town’s bylaws prohibiting such a business within the borough. ”

“Did your daughter get her job back?” she asked.

“No, Judy decided to start an event-planning business, but she also works during the day at the gift shop on Main Street.”

Clare nodded. “She was very helpful when I asked to hang a flyer in the front window; and, of course, we chatted over pizza last night.” She reached into her purse to retrieve a copy for Alan.

He looked impressed. “Well done. If you have any others, I can take them to post at River Mill.”

“Great. I appreciate that you’ll save me the trip.”

The waitress arrived with our food and didn’t hesitate to glance over Alan’s shoulder. She paused, platter in hand. “What’s this about Mrs. Sterling?”

“My sister is missing,” Clare explained.

“That’s not possible. She was here last Saturday night with her neighbor.”

“Which one?” Alan asked, making room for her to put his plate on the table.

“Gosh, I don’t know,” she said as she gave each of us our meals, adding a basket of fried onion rings for the center of the table. “She was old. I mean, like, really old, but she could hold her beer. I think she had three glasses of the dark ale.”

“Was her name Jane?” I queried.

“I’m not sure, but she lives next door to the Sterlings. Sad to say, he died a month ago, out of the blue. He was playing golf and just keeled over. He always gave me a great tip.”

Clare interrupted. “Did my sister say where they were going afterward?”

“Not really. She teased about getting her home to bed, and they were out of here by seven o’clock. No later, I’m sure. Anyway, give a holler if you need anything else, and I’ll check back soon.”

When she scurried off, Alan reached for the onion rings. He put several on his plate, then passed the basket. “Well, we can identify Jane as the last person to see Liz. That’s a help.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “Did you ask at the bank?”

Alan took a sip of beer. “I did, and Liz hadn’t made any appointment. She also never arrived for the one with Courtney Bates on Wednesday.”

“Who’s that?” Clare asked.

“She’s the office manager at River Mill Golf Club. Her boss, Jim Withers, reiterated that no one has seen her all week, so I’d say we need to talk to Jane Windsor again. She’s apparently the last contact Liz had.”

I forked a piece of Swiss steak and a mushroom. “Did Mark Matthews have any information about Liz’s car?” I asked Alan.

“The door handles and steering wheel were wiped clean, so we know she didn’t abandon the vehicle. Someone who didn’t realize the police patrolled lovers’ lane probably hid it there.”

I tried to mentally reconstruct the scenario while Alan and Clare chatted about the lack of fingerprints on the car. According to the waitress, Liz left the pub with Jane by seven o’clock and took her home. She would have parked in the driveway between their houses and walked the neighbor to her door.

She apparently had her purse to pay for their meal, though Clare found it in the hall closet. That meant Liz had returned to her own home after leaving Jane. Would she have gone out again? Not without her pocketbook, I thought. She must have gone to bed.

I wiggled my way into their conversation. “What did Liz do on a Sunday morning?”

Clare shrugged. “She went to the eleven o’clock Mass at St. Stephen’s.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

She looked puzzled. “I assumed, because Father John told me she would do a reading at that Mass when she was in town.”

“Would she have taken her purse?” I questioned.

“Probably not since the church is within walking distance from her house. I’ve walked there myself every day this week.”

Alan kept his eye on me. “What’s your point, honey?”

“I’m thinking Liz walked to church last Sunday morning, but we need to verify that somehow.”

“If she used a church envelope, they’d keep a record of her donation,” Clare said.

“Okay, so even if she chatted with people after the service, she still had to walk home and get a bite to eat before driving to the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton airport. Of course, she’d have needed her purse.”

As usual, Alan poked a hole in my theory. “What makes you think she intended to drive to the airport? She wrote Clare’s arrival on her calendar, but she may have asked someone else to pick her up.”

“I would want to meet my sister at the airport if she were coming for a visit.”

“What if I offered to pick up Laura for you because you were making a nice supper to welcome her.”

He made a good point, so I had to think of a comeback .

“Well,” I said, “I suppose it’s possible she asked someone to go to the airport for her, given her pocketbook in the closet and the house in perfect order, but who? We’ve spoken to her family and friends, yet no one has mentioned such a request—and it wasn’t in her day-planner. She only recorded her sister’s arrival date, but not a specific time.”

Clare nibbled on an onion ring, deep in thought. “The fact that Liz ate here last Saturday evening is important information. I can ask Jane about it tomorrow since she may have been the last person to see Liz.”

“Right,” Alan agreed. “Then, find out if Liz went to church on Sunday morning. Sue gets really good vibes, and I’ve learned to not ignore them.” He gave me that quirky expression I loved.

When our waitress returned, Alan asked for the check and insisted that she include all three meals, despite Clare’s offer to pay for hers. She finally gave in when he teased that her retainer had covered it.

“I usually challenge Sue to a game of pool after we eat,” he remarked as he pulled his credit card out of his wallet. “She loses just about every time.”

I rolled my eyes before admitting the truth of his words.

“How about a threesome?” Clare suggested. “I think I could take you on.”

I couldn’t tell if she meant her challenge, or if the beer had relaxed her, but I gave her credit for baiting Alan.

“We’re on a case,” he said with a shake of his head.

“We can’t do anything else tonight,” she contended, “so we might as well have some fun.”

“Do you know how to play eight-ball?” he asked her.

She grinned. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Are you nervous?”

Alan glanced at the tab our waitress brought, then handed her his Visa card. Back to Clare, he asked, “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you’re going to lose, Alan Jaworski.”

I could only chuckle with the repartee. I thought Alan must have met his match because the Sister didn’t retreat. I prayed that she and I would take him down.