Chapter 2 - Truth Confirmed
Marion expected my call knowing how impatient I got and she was pleased to have some information ready. During the time period I was asking about there were four gangs that were prominent. The largest was The Dominos followed by the Street Riders, the Swords and the Babes, the latter being a girl gang that I could rule out.
There wasn't much about them other than territories and probable numbers and I thanked her then got on to Sergeant Case.
"Sergeant Case, Archives."
"Cole? It's Hart."
"Why am I not surprised."
"I know, I know but I wanted to ask if you had anything on some gangs." I gave him the names and silently endured another scold for pestering him for favours.
"Three Roes, none initial H.D. One dead, one sixteen years old and one in the age range you gave me. A Harland Roe, short sheet for property damage, bar fights and petty theft." He gave me the last known address then looked up the gangs.
"I don't suppose it shows if Roe belonged to any of them?"
"Thought you'd never ask. Street Riders. They had a clubhouse on MacCarthur near the big silos. Still used but the gang is gone."
"Thanks, Cole, I really owe you."
"Oh joy, my retirement is secure. Bye, Hart."
********
My suspicion was niggling and I decided the smart thing to do was investigate my client, usually my first step in a new case. Another call to Marion who graciously gave me the number of her connection in the city records department.
Ruthie Kwai was expecting my call and I scribbled a note to send Marion something as a thank you. I explained what I was after and she said she would call back within the hour. I noticed the address Cole had given me for Harland Roe was near MacCarthur Street, which made sense, and I felt that an address for Alice would be in the same area. Back then there wasn't as much development and country road didn't sound far-fetched.
Ruthie's call was great news. She had found a Gavin and Audrey Comfort who had a daughter, Alice in the right age range and in the time frame I'd specified. What she didn't have was a location. Her records only kept basic data, addresses changed all the time. I thanked her and asked if I could keep her number; the voice said yes, the tone said, watch it!
Two hours later after pushing menu buttons to get to real people at several sources, who all said they did not give out personal information over the telephone, I made a frustrated noise. Then a light bulb went on.
Bless the internet, it had no compunction about hunting things down that were personal or private. Several sites offered address searches from names and shortly thereafter I had an address I was sure belonged to the Comforts in question.
********
Verna sat on the side of her sofa bed in the mostly empty loft she called home, munching on the turkey wrap I had used to gain entrance after work.
"Would you like some wine with that, madam?"
"You know where it is," she said through a mouthful.
"I do, and yes, I wouldn't mind a glass myself thank you."
Her face screwed up under closed eyes.
I handed her a glass and flopped down beside her. "I made some progress on the case today and I think it's turning into something uglier than just a missing person."
"You got my joke then?"
"My dear, you will be pumped to learn that your joke actually threw back a curtain - and yes I got it . . . eventually."
"So, why uglier?"
I explained my theory and how I was going to approach it. Verna slouched back on the sofa and rested her wine glass on her stomach, plucking her lip with one finger.
"I have tomorrow off, I can come with."
"What, why?"
"Because if you are right it would be better if another woman was there. It isn't locker room talk, Hart."
"What the hell, Verna! Are you saying I can't be sensitive to situations like that?"
"Yes."
A pantomime of silent bluster was all I could manage and she waited me out then said it was settled.
"Fine. But just as support, I'll ask the questions." The eyes blinked. Damn.
"Want to go up on the roof and count stars?"
"Oh, is this for agreeing?"
"Nope, for the turkey wrap."
********
It was a storey and a half, wood siding house that sat part way along a row of about fifteen that looked exactly the same except for colour. Late forties style and all looking well maintained. The address we wanted was the one with red brick trim, the black roof and a clump Birch with a circular flower bed around the base on the front lawn.
"Okay remember, Verna, I ask the questions." She just smiled.
The door was answered and I knew I had the right place. The woman was definitely Alice's mother or if she wasn't she should have been.
"Mrs. Comfort?" A nod and a quizzical smile. "My name is Richard Hart, I'm a private investigator and this is my associate . . . Miss Scott. I'm here on behalf of some work I'm doing for Alice."
The smile fell away and the face turned a shade paler. "Alice . . ."
"May we come in and discuss it?"
She backed away without comment as we entered her home; Verna touched her arm kindly and nodded encouragingly. It only took a moment and she seemed to recover, showing us into her sitting room and offering seats.
"You mentioned Alice."
"Yes. Your daughter-" I hesitated to see if she balked then continued. "Alice came to me with a request to find--"
"H.D. Roe." Her voice shook and she closed her eyes momentarily.
Verna and I traded glances. "You know him?"
Two hours, tea and some ice wafers later, Alice's terrible tale was revealed in full and Verna was Audrey's best friend. First name and I was still Mr. Hart! It turned out to be a case of assault that Alice wouldn't admit to but created the Humpty Dumpty fantasy in her young mind. The man sitting on a wall on the lane she walked down. His greeting and attitude that intrigued a little girl and the horror that followed then in spite of all the pressure on her to tell she refused and set about on her own quest for vengeance.
"Forty years and she is still searching. A life wasted." Audrey leaned back on her settee and issued a long sigh, her age appearing more noticeable from the sad memories.
"Have you not been in touch at all?"
"No. When she left home I was focusing on my husband who was quite ill at the time. When he died I thought she might come back but . . ."
"Would you like to get in touch?" Verna fired a shot of those eyes at me and I made an innocent shrug.
"I don't think so, Mr. Hart. If she is still living in her sad world there wouldn't be much point."
Several moments of thank yous and goodbyes with promises to update if needed, Verna and I left, staying silent all the way back into the city. I dropped her off at home and went back to the office to organize what I knew and plan my next step.
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