Missing Persons Read Online Free PDF

Frank’s wife at the wake and funeral. Most of our friends didn’t even know they were separated. There’s no point in bringing up that ugliness now and dragging our family name through the mud.”
    I suppressed a laugh. There’s nothing like a death in the family to make everyone realize what’s truly important, is there?
    “Are we done?” I asked the director.
    “As soon as you sign this form.”
    I signed.
    “I’ll see you at the wake,” I said and walked out of the room without looking at any of them.

Eight
    T he next morning I took a bath, stared at my wedding ring, took it off because I felt like a fraud wearing it, then put it on again, and stayed in the tub until the water turned cold. My sister had left me a message about how I needed to stand up to “those people” who had raised “a good-for-nothing son” who had “ruined” my life. I didn’t know which part was more offensive: that I should yell at people who had lost their oldest child or that, in my sister’s eyes, my life was ruined.
    At about noon, the doorbell rang. News had begun to trickle out to the neighbors, and I’d already received two casseroles, an apple pie, and something unidentifiable that combined noodles and blueberries. I assumed this was another well-intentioned dish I didn’t feel like eating.
    Instead, I opened the door to a large man holding a package. He was dressed in an ill-fitting dark-brown suit, with a yellowing, but once white, shirt and a blue tie. I’m not much for fashion, but he looked to be wearing something the Salvation Army would reject. Behind him was another man, younger and dressed better. Neither of them looked all that happy to be there.
    “You Kathleen Conway?” the large man asked.
    “Yes.”
    He handed me the package. “This is for you. It was on your doorstep. Can we come in?”
    “I don’t know you.”
    He wearily reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. “Detective Scott Podeski.” With that he pushed past me into the house. His friend followed in his footsteps, leaving me at the front door wondering if I should run. Probably not, but I knew I didn’t want to hear whatever bad news these guys had obviously brought with them.
    “This isn’t a good time,” I said.
    “We’re with homicide.”
    “Seriously?” It was a stupid comment, but I couldn’t imagine why homicide detectives would show up at my door.
    Podeski didn’t care for my surprise. “You were married to Francis John Conway.”
    “Yes.”
    “How long?”
    “Fifteen years.”
    “When’s the last time you saw him?”
    “I don’t understand. Why are you asking about Frank?”
    “Ma’am, if you could just answer the question. The last time you saw him?”
    “It was three weeks ago, at my lawyer’s office.”
    As we spoke I noticed the other man, the younger one, was taking notes.
    “Is this about Frank’s death? It wasn’t a homicide. He died of a heart attack,” I told them.
    “Maybe, ma’am. A Dr. Milton requested an autopsy.”
    “I requested one,” I corrected him.
    That surprised him. “Why?” he asked.
    “Frank was only thirty-seven and he was in good health.”
    “His death seemed suspicious to you?”
    “Not suspicious, just unexpected. What’s this about?”
    I wanted to get control of the conversation, but Podeski eyeballed me, making it clear he wasn’t interested in letting go.
    “Detective, do you have information I don’t have?”
    “You weren’t the one who brought him to the hospital.”
    “No.”
    “Who was?”
    “Vera . . . something. I don’t remember her last name.”
    “Bingham.”
    “If you knew, why ask me?” I was sounding defensive. I tried to calm down and change the tone of the conversation. I hadn’t done anything, but homicide detectives questioning me about the death of my husband made me feel guilty. “Would you like to sit down?”
    “No, ma’am. We won’t take up any more of your time. Are you sure you hadn’t been in contact with your