Page 9 of Too Old for This

“Hi. It’s Cole, returning your call. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything from Plum and have no idea where she is. I did call her mother, who talked to someone at Salem PD. They finally issued a missing persons report. Thank you for checking in, and I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything.”

Cole has turned into a useful ally. He’s a polite young man, the type who calls his mom on her birthday. Archie does, too, but I’m not sure it’s because he remembers. I usually find a subtle way to work it into one of our conversations a few weeks prior.

Not long after listening to Cole’s message, I see Plum on the local news. The picture of her looks quite different from the person I met, who was more attractive. She was not photogenic.

The TV report is brief—just the photo, her name, and that she was last seen at the Salem airport. Nothing is mentioned about an investigation or that any foul play was involved. Of course not. They can’t find a body or blood or anything to indicate something violent happened.

But I’m not out of the woods yet. The lull has been dragging on a bit, helped by Cole, and now it’s coming to an end.

More than once, the lull drew me in and made me relax. A siren song of complacency. This time, I am prepared.

The knock at the door doesn’t surprise me.

Two detectives stand on my porch. One is a young woman in a navy suit and cheap shoes. Brown eyes, brown hair, neutral makeup. The other is a man who looks around forty. He’s wearing a sports coat, slacks, and a pair of dull shoes.

I bet he cruises through life with those dark eyes, though. They’re big and expressive, and he can’t hide his surprise at seeing me.

I’m wearing an old nightgown. The pink and purple flowers have faded into the same color, and my spindly legs stick out beneath it.

So many blue veins. My grey hair is tucked into a bun, and a few wiry hairs stick out on the sides.

I’m wearing a huge pair of glasses. My eyes are magnified behind them.

The man steps forward and holds up his badge. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but are you Mrs.Jones? Lottie Jones?”

It’s wrong to call me Mrs. , since I’ve never been married. As always, I let it slide. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m Detective Rey Tula,” he says. “This is Detective Kelsie Harlow. We’re from the Salem Police Department. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about Plum Dixon?”

About time. I’ve been wearing this outfit for two days.

“Of course, come in. Cole told me he spoke to you and that you might be coming by.” I scoot backward in my walker, then turn around and head left, leading them into the formal sitting room. “Please, have a seat. Let me get you some coffee. Or I have tea.”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” Tula says. “We only have a few questions.”

He sits in one of the velvet chairs. It looks too small for him. His partner perches herself on the other, her back straight as a dancer’s. She tells me to call her Kelsie, which seems a bit informal, but I do it anyway.

The walker doesn’t fit between the couch and the coffee table, so it takes me a minute to get settled on the couch. They wait until I’m ready.

“Do you remember Plum Dixon coming by to talk to you?” Tula says.

“Yes, I do. I think it was last week…No, it was the week before. I want to say Monday.”

“But you aren’t sure?”

“I’d have to check my calendar to be positive, but Monday sounds right.”

Kelsie looks over at Tula. They exchange a glance.

“Why did Plum come to see you?” he asks.

“To discuss some kind of docushow she’s making. She wanted to interview me about things that happened forty years ago, long before either of you were born.”

Both laugh. Neither one asks a follow-up question. Maybe they’ve already convinced themselves that Cole is guilty, the same way Detective Burke had been convinced about me.

“Is that the only thing you discussed?” Tula says. “Her docuseries?”

I find myself staring out the window behind them, at their unmarked car parked in front of the house. My eyes glaze over from the sun.

“Mrs.Jones?” Kelsie says.

“Yes, sorry. What was the question?”

“Did you talk about anything else with Plum?”

“No, that was all. We had some tea and cookies and talked for a bit. Then she left.”

“What time was that?”

“I know she came by at eight o’clock, because a new show was starting on TV, right at the top of the hour.

I served Plum some tea and we talked for a bit, and by the time she left and I got back to the TV, a whole new show was already on.

She definitely was here for over an hour.

I’d say Plum left between nine and nine fifteen.

” I smile and nod, acting pleased at my recall skills.

“Then I sat down and watched a little more TV, followed by the news, because I always watch that to see the weather. I went to bed and read for a bit before falling asleep.”

“Mrs.Jones.” Kelsie’s voice is softer now, the gentle tone used for children. “Did Plum mention where she was going after leaving your house?”

“I think she said she was leaving town, but she didn’t say where.”

“And how did you hear she was missing?”

“It was that young man, Joel. No, sorry. I mean Cole . He called and said he was worried about Plum because he hadn’t heard from her. Then he stopped by…I don’t know, a day later? Two days, maybe. And now here you are. Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Tula says. “Did you know who Cole was before he called? Did Plum mention him at all?”

I scrunch up my face, trying to think. “Noooo…I don’t remember her bringing anyone up. She talked about the docushow.”

“So Plum didn’t mention her—”

“Wait. I just remembered something else,” I say. “Her earrings.”

“Her earrings?”

“Yes, she was wearing pearl earrings. Plain, simple studs. You never see those anymore, especially not on someone as young as Plum. You see, we were in the kitchen drinking tea, and she reached down to get something out of her bag. Her hair swung forward, she pushed it behind her ear, and that’s when I asked about the pearls,” I say.

“When she turned to answer me, I saw the bruise.”