The Girls Are Missing Read Online Free PDF Page B

Anita already knew, and undoubtedly had talked about it.
    She called the girls downstairs, and hovered without seeming to listen, so Gail would be reassured but not inhibited.
    “We never saw anybody,” Gail declared. “Only Mr. Lattimer, but he lives there. Sometimes he walks around in the woods.”
    “Who was the dead person?” asked Anita.
    “Can’t tell yet,” D’Amico replied. “We’re checking that out.”
    Anita bounced on the sofa. “Was it one of those people who disappeared?” Her eyes glinted. “I hope it’s one of those people. And I found him. Her.”
    Gail asked, “Is it gone now?”
    “Since last night,” he said, “but I’d stay away from there till we find out more about this.”
    He thanked them for their help. Gail protested that they had not been very helpful.
    “You gave me information,” he said. “You told me you didn’t see anybody. That’s part of it.” He turned to Joyce. “Thanks a lot, Mrs. Gilwood. We’ll be around. That won’t surprise you, will it?”
    “It will be very reassuring.” She stood at the kitchen door, with Adam fidgeting in her arms, and watched him leave.
    Gail came up beside her. Joyce said, “It’s too bad about the woods. But you still have the lawn and the garden. At least we have an outdoors, not like in the city.”
    “I liked the city,” Gail replied, her face becoming closed and stubborn.
    Because she identified it with her father, while Cedarville meant Carl. And now death.

6  
    After lunch, while Gail and Anita cleared the table, Mary Ellen remained in her chair, gazing through the picture window. Only at a sound from Adam, upstairs, did she stir.
    “Can I help you take care of the baby?”
    “Of course,” said Joyce, “but I breast-feed him, so there’s not much you can do about that.”
    Inadvertently her eyes dropped to Mary Ellen’s bosom, and noticed the swelling. So she was there already. No wonder Barbara had worried about her.
    Mary Ellen received a lesson in diaper-changing, then retired to her room. Through its nearly closed door came the tinny strains of the small red radio. Adam was fed and had just been put back in his crib when the doorbell rang.
    Joyce wondered, as she went to answer it, whether a killer would bother to ring.
    Sheila Farand stood on the doorstep, her black hair straggling loose from its summer bun, her body lean and tan in khaki shorts and a red halter. Beside her was Pamela Cheskill, the exact opposite, a cool blonde in a stylish pale green pantsuit.
    Sheila burst out, “My God, Joyce, remember that thing you were telling me about last night? I didn’t even think about it, but you know what—”
    “Yes, I know,” said Joyce as she held open the door. “I went over and looked. And the police were here.”
    “You what?” Pam exclaimed.
    “I went over and looked. That’s a beautiful outfit, Pam. Would anybody care for some iced tea?”
    Sheila gasped. “I couldn’t swallow right now. I keep hoping I’ll wake up from this. You went over and looked ?”
    “Not at—it.” Joyce steered them toward the sunporch. “I just went over and saw what the girls saw. Gail wanted me to. And then I called the police.”
    “Oh, you were the one.” Sheila sank into a cushioned rattan chair. “They said some woman called. I have a cousin on the force, Herb Mackey, he came over and asked if we’d seen anybody hanging around. I tried to keep it from Anita, but she heard the older girls talking, and then she started bragging that she was the one who saw it first and showed it to Gail.”
    “Yes, that’s what Gail said.”
    “I’d just like to know what she saw.”
    Joyce described what Anita had probably seen. “You couldn’t really tell. It was just a feeling you got, maybe from the smell. Wouldn’t you really like something to drink?”
    Pam said, “I’d love something to drink, if you really mean drink. I could use it right now.”
    Joyce mixed three gins and tonic and returned to the