Snake in the Glass (11 page)

This time she looked at me squarely. “I am. I’m sorry, Em, for putting you in such a difficult position. It was wrong of me, but I was so overwhelmed by everything, and seeing my mother’s grave and all . . .”

I put up a hand. “Apology accepted. I know it must have been difficult, taking it all in, especially after so long, and you’re right to have wanted to reconnect with your family. But I’m glad you’re back. As I’m sure Cam will be, whenever he shows up.”

“Am I still welcome in the shop, then?” she said.

“Of course you are. And things will start getting busier as soon as this blasted Gem Show is over. Speaking of which, Frank, I think Denis is on to something.”

“Is he now? Is this what he tells you, or have you seen the results?”

“He showed me a stone that he pulled out of the kiln. It was a darker green, but the really interesting part was that the core seemed to have changed color, to kind of an orangey gold.”

That definitely got Frank’s attention. “Really, now? That would be worth seeing. If the color holds stable, and if he can repeat it.”

“One small glitch, though—he seems to be out of money. His check didn’t clear. I wonder if he could use some outside investors?”

“Don’t get yourself into that, Em. Might as well pour your money down a rat hole.”

I thought briefly of my new nest egg—carefully and safely invested. “I don’t plan to, believe me. But if he’s onto something good, somebody should be interested. Anyway, he’s paid me most of what he owes me, in cash. I don’t know if I want to give him any more time, though—I think he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

Allison had been watching our discussion as though it was a ping-pong match. “Whatever are you talking about?”

I realized I had probably been indiscreet. Denis had asked me to keep this quiet, and now I’d blabbed about it not only to Frank but also to Allison.

“This doesn’t leave this room, okay, Allison? A guy from the university came to me earlier this week and asked if he could rent my studio, or more specifically, my kiln, to experiment with altering some inexpensive stones, to see if he could improve their color. Apparently he’s succeeded, and he wants more time, but he’s had trouble paying for the time he’s used. If you’re in the shop tomorrow, you’ll probably see him.” I wasn’t about to say any more, and I thought it wise to change the subject. “So, tell me how you tore yourself away from all your kinfolk.”

Allison proceeded to recount the events of the last few days, but it was clear that she was drunk with jet-lag, and I took pity on her and interrupted her tale. “You want to crash here tonight? You look wiped out. Frank’s been sleeping in Cam’s room, but you can have the couch.”

“Uncle Frank’s staying here?”

“Sure. I can tell you’ve never tried to find a hotel room in Tucson during Gem Show.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Allison, you know me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it. I’ll even lend you a nightie.”

“Thank you, Em. It’s good to be home.”

I put what was left of the food away and let my two guests duke it out for bathroom privileges. When I headed for my own room, I ran into Allison in the hallway. “Em, I’m glad we’re okay, the two of us. But I’m still worried about Cam. It isn’t like him to run away like this, is it?”

I felt a prickle of fear. She was right: I had never known Cam to simply disappear. Sure, he had been hurt by Allison’s inability to talk to him, but I hadn’t considered the possibility that his continuing silence could be due to something else. And I had to admit I had no idea where to even begin looking for him. Was he lying in a ditch somewhere? Or had he gone on a bender and ended up in a Mexican jail? I didn’t know where to start.

“Maybe I could ask Matt what we could do, in the morning?”

She gave me a tremulous smile. “Could you? I don’t mean to trouble you, but I really do need to see him, to explain.”

“I’ll call Matt first thing in the morning. You get some sleep.”

But I went to bed with a nagging worry in the back of my mind.

The next morning, Allison and Frank were up be
fore me and busy in the kitchen area. More jet lag, no doubt. At least I would get a good breakfast out of it.

“Good morning,” I said, reaching for the coffee. “Sleep well?”

“Until I woke up at three. I guess I’m still on Irish time,” Allison said.

“It’ll pass,” I said wisely, based on my vast experience of the last week. “Give it a few days. Hand me the phone, will you?”

She passed the handset to me, and I punched in Matt’s home number. When I got no answer there, I tried the station and was put through with only a short delay. “Hi, stranger,” I greeted him when he answered.

“Hey there. Everything all right?”

“What, I can’t call you just to chat?”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got to get to work.”

I went on quickly. “Listen, there is something I’d like to run by you. Do you have time for a quick lunch?”

He sighed. “Don’t count on it. You know we always have security issues around the Gem Show, and I don’t know if I can get away.”

I thought briefly. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. How about I bring some sandwiches by?”

“Sounds good. Maybe around one? There’s an all-hands meeting at eleven, and who knows how long that will run.”

“Deal. See you then.”

I turned to find Allison watching with a half-smile, and no sign of Frank.

“Did Frank leave?”

“He did. He said he had business to attend to. Things going well with Matt, then?”

“I think so. We had dinner at his place on Monday.”

“Ah,” she said and then fell silent.

“I’ll ask him what to do about Cam. If anything. I mean, we don’t have any real reason to worry—it seems silly to get the police involved, if he’s just gone off to mope.” I hoped. Was I trying to convince Allison or myself?

“I hope you’re right. You know him better than I do, of course. He wouldn’t do anything . . . to harm himself, would he?”

“No! Don’t even think like that. It’s more likely that he just got so involved in whatever project he’s working on that he lost track of time, and he’ll show up this weekend. I just want to talk to Matt and see what . . .” I dribbled to a stop. I wasn’t sure what I was asking, but I just wanted to cover all the bases. In case. A few months ago I would have laughed at my own fantasies, but the last couple of months had been stressful, so I thought it better to be safe than sorry.

I decided to change the subject. “You ready to go downstairs?”

“I thought I’d run home, change clothes and such. I should be back around ten, if that suits?”

“Fine. I’ll tell Nessa. You know that she and Frank are . . .” What? Dating? Seeing each other? Flirting?

Allison’s mouth twitched. “I guessed as much, not that Uncle Frank has said a word. I think it’s . . . sweet.”

“As long as he does right by her.” When I heard myself, I almost laughed out loud. Nessa definitely did not need protection.

“He’s a good man, from all I’ve seen of him. Even the relatives had nothing bad to say, although they were a bit ticked off that he’d stayed away so long. But I gather they’re used to that. The memories some of those people have! They’ll be telling me about Aunt this and Cousin that, and then they mention it was all in 1938 or some such.”

“I get the feeling that things move more slowly in rural Ireland. You sure you don’t want to go back?”

“Maybe once or twice a decade. No, Em, my life’s here now. Whatever that may be.” She stood up quickly and started clearing the dirty plates and cups from the table. “I’ll be on my way, and see you in a bit. Right?”

“Good. I’ll walk the dogs and head downstairs. Allison—whatever happens, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thank you, Em. I didn’t want to let you down.”

I think we had succeeded in embarrassing ourselves sufficiently for so early in the day, so I headed for the shower while Allison slipped out. Once dressed, I walked the dogs, then returned them, made sure they had food and water, and headed downstairs, where Nessa was already waiting.

She looked up when I came in. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Nessa. Guess what? Allison’s back. She’ll be here in an hour or so.”

Nessa studied my face. “Is that good news?”

“I think so. She says she’s back to stay.”

Nessa hesitated before asking, “Has she heard from Cam?”

I shook my head. “No, and she hasn’t been able to reach him. But at least now they can work out . . . whatever. Oh, if Denis shows up, send him to me, okay?”

“Do you think he will be back?”

“I’m pretty sure he will—I’ve still got some of his stones. I’ll be in the studio.”

From the studio I kept an eye on the shop. Shortly after noon, I wrapped up the piece I was working on, stowed it in the annealer, then went out to get food. Still no sign of Denis. I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I had to admit I had never seen anything quite like the stone he had showed me the night before. But Frank had hinted that it might not be a stable change or that Denis might not be able to replicate it. There were a lot of “ifs” involved, and I had the feeling that Denis would need a lot of kiln time to work them out. If he couldn’t pay for the time, what would he do? The kilns weren’t all that expensive, but if he couldn’t afford my studio time, how was he going to pay for a piece of equipment?

Loaded with an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and cold drinks, I presented myself at the police station and was waved through to Matt’s office. He was on the phone when I arrived and held up a finger, telling me to wait. I busied myself laying out our repast while sneaking glances at his face. He looked frazzled.

He hung up the phone at last, then stretched out in his creaking chair, flexing his shoulders. “This looks great,” he said, eyeing the food. “Things have been crazy the last few days, and I think there were a couple of meals that didn’t happen. How you doing?”

I grabbed half a sandwich and popped the top of a soft drink. “Good, I think. At least the jet lag is gone. And Allison’s back.”

“When?”

“Last night. Frank’s still around.”

I watched as Matt inhaled half a sandwich in record time. When he had finished chewing, he asked, “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes, I needed to run something by you, as a hypothetical.”

He picked up another half sandwich. “Go on.”

“I don’t want to be a nervous Nelly, but I haven’t heard from Cam since he stormed out on Saturday, when I told him about Allison. I figured he needed time to lick his wounds, so I didn’t think much about it. But now Allison’s here, and she hasn’t heard from him, and his phone is going straight to voice mail.”

“What is it you want me to do, Em?” Matt said neutrally, ripping open a packet of chips and eying the remaining sandwich. I pushed it toward him.

“Right now, nothing. I guess I’m asking . . . when do you decide someone’s missing, and what do you do about it?”

He munched his way through a handful of chips before answering. “I know Cam, and I know the circumstances under which he left. I don’t think there’s any way you—or I—could say he’s officially ‘missing.’ He’s an adult, he left under his own power, and he has good reason to avoid you and his girlfriend.”

I knew he was right, but that was small comfort. “Okay, how about this? I know that Cam is a responsible person, and he’s expected at a new job on Monday. If he hasn’t shown up by then, would that be sufficient grounds to take the next step? And what would that step be?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Matt, you know I wouldn’t waste your time.”

“Fair enough. All right. First we’d check his known locations.”

“He has none here, except my place. He gave up his apartment in San Diego, and he hasn’t started looking for one here yet. And before you ask, he doesn’t know many other people around here. Professional colleagues maybe, but no friends.”

“All right. Does his phone have GPS?”

“I have no idea. Probably, because he likes techy things like that, and I know his phone is pretty new.”

“Do you know what service he uses?”

I stared at Matt, frustrated. “I barely know what service
I
use. And, before you ask, no, I haven’t seen any bills forwarded to him at my place. He only arrived last week. And for all I know he pays everything online.”

“If you can get access, we could find out whether he has made or received any calls since you’ve seen him.”

“Doesn’t that take a search warrant or something?”

“Maybe,” Matt said noncommittally. “And we could see if he’s used his credit cards. What about his car? What’s his license plate?”

“Matt, I don’t know any of this stuff.”

“I understand. But my hands are tied, officially, unless you file a formal missing persons report. Is that what you want to do?”

I thought. “I guess that’s why I’m talking to you. Should I?”

“It depends. This is a guy with no history of instability, and there’s no evidence of a crime. It’s hard to justify using police resources under those conditions.”

He was making sense, whether or not I liked it. And what could I give him to work with? Cam was an average-looking guy, and his only distinguishing feature was a scar on one elbow that he’d gotten when he fell off a bike when he was eight. I had no idea if he had any friends or confidants back in San Diego. He had never committed a crime, never had a drug problem or sought psychiatric help for any reason. I couldn’t imagine that his fingerprints would be on file anywhere. Cameron Dowell was about as vanilla as a person could be, except maybe smarter than average. So where the hell was he?