Page 24 of Witch and Tell

Which prompted another thought. Whether it was helpful, I wasn’t sure. “Do you know how he lost the use of his legs?”

“No. Why would that have anything to do with why he left?”

“I don’t know. You have to admit he’s secretive about it.”

Her lips tightened. “It’s none of our business.”

“I’m sorry. Of course you’re right. I—”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve wondered, too. He won’t talk about it.”

The grandfather clock in Popular Fiction chimed. Soon some of the laborers from the nearby rose nursery would be coming in for instruction in English as a second language.

Time to float my theory. “He left at about the time the construction crew showed up at the Empress, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen Lise Bloom?”

“The lady with the freckles? The stranger?”

I nodded. I didn’t know any way to soften my next question. “I can’t figure out what she wants in Wilfred, but she’s been wandering around for a few days now. What if she’s someone from Ian’s past, and he wants to avoid her?”

Lalena leaned forward, and her words came in a rush. “You mean, an old girlfriend?”

“I didn’t want to bring it up, but we need to consider every angle. Do you know anything about his romantic history?”

“It would have been a really nasty breakup to make him leave town without a word,” she said. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t know about his past relationships.” She looked at her fingers, then added in a quiet voice, “Do you think he was married and abandoned her?”

It sounded outrageous, but wasn’t unheard of. Maybe he was shirking fatherhood or owed her money. Maybe he was simply ashamed and didn’t want Lalena to know about her. Extreme, but possible. Ian had kept a lot about his life hidden. Plus, the timing fit.

“I don’t know. It was a thought,” I said.

Lalena stared, unseeing, toward the potted banana tree. Surprisingly, when she looked up again, it was with a happy glow. “If it’s true, it’s good news.” At my puzzled expression, she added, “It means he’s alive.”

I hoped she was right. If only Sam and I were on better terms, I could ask him to look into Lise Bloom. Even without him, however, I could still nose around. As that thought settled into my brain, a book title wafted through the ether:Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know. What did that mean?

“I’ll see if I can get some answers,” I promised. Maybe Lise Bloom would have them.

Chapter Fifteen

That night after work, I called the retreat center and, fortunately, didn’t get Wanda on the phone. Lucky as that was, it meant I didn’t know if Lise was in. Another call to the café confirmed that Lise’s Kia was in the retreat center’s parking lot, so she was still in Wilfred. I’d keep a lookout for her.

In the meantime, however, I could check out what was happening at the Empress. Once again, I wondered: could Ian have encountered someone he knew when the construction crew moved in? Perhaps someone who could broadcast something about his past that he didn’t want known?

I made my way down the hill. Orson wouldn’t have started his shift at the tavern yet, and maybe I could catch him. I stopped on the bridge over the Kirby River—more of a creek this time of year—to rest my palms on the cool stone balustrade and watch the water drowse past with tufts of cottonwood seeds here and there.

The parking lot at Darla’s Café was already filling up with pickup trucks and cars full of families looking for an easy weeknight dinner. I walked past it, past Patty’s This-N-That, its windows dark but the memory of Babe Hamilton lingering, and found Orson outside the Empress, surveying its progress.

He greeted me with a salute of his coffee mug. “Josie. How goes it? Isn’t she lovely?”

We gazed at the Empress, looking, to me at least, more rundown than lovely. The cinema’s vinyl siding had been ripped off, revealing peeling tar paper and the rotting planks of its original siding, along with the ghost of a painted ad for Packard cars. The building’s few windows were open cavities. A mess of weatheraged shingles were piled toward the rear. Orson clearly saw the potential, not the current reality.

I got down to business. “Have you seen Ian lately?”

He shook his head. “Still gone, is he?”

Gone was one word for it, I thought, remembering the specter of his body in the library. “He can’t be far. His van is still here. I wondered if he’d stopped by late at the tavern.”