Zonked in the Zucchinis (Lovely Lethal Gardens Rewind #1)

Chapter 26

B ack home Doreen quickly made a sandwich and ate it, then looked down at the animals and noted, “You’ve been inside all morning, I think it’s time we headed out to let you guys have a bit of freedom now.” And, with them eager to go, she quickly cleaned up the kitchen. As she went out the back door, she heard a voice calling her to the front door. She turned and, taking her animals with her, opened her front door, and her neighbor Richard stood there. “Problems?” she asked.

“No, no problems,” he replied. “I was just wondering if you got anywhere on the missing person, you know, that poor woman’s father?”

“No,” she admitted, “I haven’t gotten anywhere on that one. His name was Jack Mahoney. I just keep finding more missing people.”

“Finding them?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Already?”

“No, no, not finding the people themselves but realizing there probably are more cases of other people missing than we know of. Likely because recordkeeping wasn’t done as much back then.”

“Yes, and you could move all over the place, and nobody knew all your business back then, not the way they do now, with cell phones and internet and databases. It was great back then.”

She smiled at him. “And I’m guessing you don’t have any information to offer.”

“Nope, I sure don’t, but you did say something about Rose earlier.”

“Yeah, Rose is definitely somebody I’m interested in.”

“Any reason why?” he asked, looking at her intently.

“No, not necessarily her. She’s dead and gone now,” Doreen noted, “so it’s not as if I’m thinking she committed a crime.”

“Right,” Richard replied. “Did you check to see if any unidentified person was on her property, what with the bloody garden plot event?”

“Mack’s looking into it,” she replied, “but that’s a good reminder. I need to check to see if he got that far.”

“You know, it used to be that they would just bury anybody they didn’t have a name for. And it seems there were a few of those dead bodies with no ID almost every year. You know, when somebody on the road was found or somebody was off in a corner and found dead. I’m not saying that’s what happened in your cold cases. I’m just saying that it’s possible, and that you should check that angle.”

“Of course, thanks.” Then she locked up and headed down the road.

He called back, “I’m not much help in this field of finding info or people, but I know my brother might be better at this. So, if you ever need help, after all you did for him, he would be more than happy to help you.”

She thought about it, considering Roscoe’s age, and frowned. “I wonder if he knows anybody connected to Rose, not just twenty-five years or so ago but even as far back as fifty years ago?”

“Not sure that he would, but he knows a lot of the old-timers around town. So, who knows? He might. You could always give him a call.”

“I’ll see.” She then lifted a hand to wave at him. “Thanks.”

She wandered down the river, not heading toward Rosemoor in particular. She was just trying to figure out what was going on in her own head. Something was there, nudging at her, but she wasn’t so sure what that was all about. And yet it was important. She just couldn’t figure out how or in what way. Confused and a little perturbed, she walked down farther, and then Mack called her. She looked down at the phone and smiled. “Hey,” she answered.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. Why would you ask that?” she muttered. “Of course I’m okay.”

“You sounded a little relieved to hear from me.”

She chuckled. “Or maybe it’s delight.”

“In that case,” he teased, with a bright laugh, “that’s a good thing.”

“It absolutely is a good thing,” she replied.

“Oh, and here’s something you’ve been waiting on. It took some man-hours, but our team traced Bartlet Jones to Boston, Massachusetts, where he has settled down with one woman and married her almost immediately after leaving Kelowna. So, at least in that missing person’s case,” he shared, “you should be good to go.”

She laughed. “I’m glad your guys figured it out and told me. I’ll update my Solomon file accordingly. So that takes care of Bartlet Jones, but I still have the body who bled out in Milford’s zucchini patch and also Jack Mahoney,” Doreen muttered. “Listen. Did you ever check into whether you had any unidentified remains, any Jane Does or John Does?”

“We do, and that is one of the things I’m calling about.”

“Interesting. Do we know anything about them?”

“Not yet. I’m just getting the files pulled. We never did find identification for two of them over the years.”

“One’ll be a Jane Doe, and one’ll be a John Doe,” she announced.

Dead silence came on Mack’s end. “Pardon?”

“Yeah,… though I should probably wait until you tell me when they disappeared before I jump to conclusions. I know you’re always getting on to me about that anyway.”

“Maybe you need to fill me in on just what you’ve been up to. How you seem to know what I’ll say is a definite concern.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice,” she muttered. “I’m literally walking the river right now, trying to sort out what’s going on in my head.”

“You sound as if you’ve had a very interesting morning.”

“Yeah, you could call it that,” she agreed, “but I don’t have any answers yet.”

“What? You mean the crazy Doreen’s Deputies groupies don’t have it all solved for you?”

“Oh gosh,” she muttered. “Please don’t call them that. They’ll never live it down.”

“No, they won’t.” He chuckled. “I told the captain, as a word of warning, in case they come up against them anywhere.”

“And what did he think?”

“He thought it was hilarious,” he quipped.

Doreen could easily imagine Mack with a big smirk on his face. “Yeah? Just wait until you see their outfits.”

“Outfits?” he asked, his tone rising in comical laughter. “Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah, I’m very serious,” she muttered. “And I hope you get to see them on your own, without my having to witness it again.”

“Ooh, this is sounding better and better,” he said, still chuckling. “So, will you tell me about these dead bodies you think you might know about?”

“Not yet,” she muttered, “absolutely not yet, but I’m getting there.” And a long pause ensued as she pondered what to tell him.

“Ha, you’re just not ready to tell me. But, if it’s connected to my shooting case, the death of Lynda Mahoney, you will eventually tell me, right?”

“I absolutely will tell you, once I figure it out,” she stated. “However, right now, I have a lot of pieces and a few suppositions, but it’s not necessarily clicking into place yet. Or it’s clicking into place, but I don’t have…” And then she stopped.

“You don’t have one ounce of proof, do you?” he asked.

“Exactly. And I’m not sure anybody is left living to get it from.”

“That is one of the problems with cold cases. People don’t live forever, and sometimes they take their crimes and their secrets to the grave, and we can do nothing about it.”