Read Online Daddy's Gone a Hunting by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
Tags: Suspense
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Kate Connelly in the paper. She was a stunning blond.
In any case, it was an interesting coincidence that the sister lived on the floor below him. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her because of her dark glasses and the way she turned away from him, probably embarrassed to be seen crying. But it was clear that she didn’t resemble her sister at all. The friend who was with her with the blazing red hair and fiercely protective attitude was the one who had made the strongest impression on him.
As he accepted a second cup of coffee from the waitress at the counter, he turned his attention to his own situation. He’d been back and forth from Chicago to the new office enough times in the previous weeks to feel comfortable with his coworkers. So as soon as possible, he intended to attempt to reopen Tracey’s missing person’s file. It’s not just Mom, he thought. Tracey has never been out of my mind, either. When that woman who’d been missing since she was fourteen escaped captivity twelve or fourteen years later, I wondered if maybe Tracey was possibly being held somewhere against her will.
She’d be fifty this month. But she hasn’t aged in my mind, he thought. She’ll always be twenty-two.
He paid his bill and walked out onto the street. At 8 A.M. , Greenwich Village was bustling with people heading for the subway. Even though it was cold, there was no feel of rain in the air and Mark was happy to stretch his legs and walk to work. He did not officially start at the new office until Monday, but going there today would give him a chance to settle early. On the way he thought about the detective who his mother had said had worked so hard on Tracey’s case. Nick Greco. Mom said he was in his late thirties then, so he’d be in his sixties now. He’s sure to be retired, he thought. I can always try to Google him.
21
O n Friday morning, a clerk at the medical examiner’s office was set to release the body of Gus Schmidt to Charley Walters, the funeral director whom Lottie had chosen to handle the arrangements. “If it’s any comfort for the widow,” the clerk said, “death was instantaneous when the staircase collapsed. He never felt the burns on his hands when he was dragged outside.”
Gus’s body was to be taken to the funeral parlor for one day of visitation that afternoon, and then cremated the next day.
The clerk, a slightly built thirty-something lab technician, was new on the job and loving the excitement that frequently accompanied it. He had voraciously devoured the story of the explosion that had destroyed the Connelly complex and pondered the reason why Gus Schmidt and Kate Connelly had been there in the predawn hour just as the fire started. Knowing he had no business asking the question, his curiosity still got the better of him. “Did you hear why Schmidt and the daughter were there?”
Recognizing a fellow gossip, Walters replied, “Nobody’s said anything. But everyone knows Gus Schmidt never got over being fired.”
“A couple of fire marshals were here yesterday to pick up his clothes. When they have a suspicious fire, the first thing they do is gather the clothes of any victims for evidence.”
“Whenever we have a funeral with a fire involved, there’s alwaysan investigation,” Walters said. “Some of them are caused by acts of God, like lightning. Some of them are accidents, like kids playing with matches. We had one where a three-year-old did that. He ran outside but his grandmother ended up dying of smoke inhalation looking for him. Or you get someone who can’t sell a house or a business property and the insurance looks good to them. Rumor is that Connelly’s business was on the way downhill.”
Walters realized that he was talking out of turn and that it would be prudent to sign the necessary papers to obtain the release of the body of Gus Schmidt and be on his way.
22
A fter a sleepless night, Lottie Schmidt dozed briefly in the early hours on Friday morning. The
In any case, it was an interesting coincidence that the sister lived on the floor below him. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her because of her dark glasses and the way she turned away from him, probably embarrassed to be seen crying. But it was clear that she didn’t resemble her sister at all. The friend who was with her with the blazing red hair and fiercely protective attitude was the one who had made the strongest impression on him.
As he accepted a second cup of coffee from the waitress at the counter, he turned his attention to his own situation. He’d been back and forth from Chicago to the new office enough times in the previous weeks to feel comfortable with his coworkers. So as soon as possible, he intended to attempt to reopen Tracey’s missing person’s file. It’s not just Mom, he thought. Tracey has never been out of my mind, either. When that woman who’d been missing since she was fourteen escaped captivity twelve or fourteen years later, I wondered if maybe Tracey was possibly being held somewhere against her will.
She’d be fifty this month. But she hasn’t aged in my mind, he thought. She’ll always be twenty-two.
He paid his bill and walked out onto the street. At 8 A.M. , Greenwich Village was bustling with people heading for the subway. Even though it was cold, there was no feel of rain in the air and Mark was happy to stretch his legs and walk to work. He did not officially start at the new office until Monday, but going there today would give him a chance to settle early. On the way he thought about the detective who his mother had said had worked so hard on Tracey’s case. Nick Greco. Mom said he was in his late thirties then, so he’d be in his sixties now. He’s sure to be retired, he thought. I can always try to Google him.
21
O n Friday morning, a clerk at the medical examiner’s office was set to release the body of Gus Schmidt to Charley Walters, the funeral director whom Lottie had chosen to handle the arrangements. “If it’s any comfort for the widow,” the clerk said, “death was instantaneous when the staircase collapsed. He never felt the burns on his hands when he was dragged outside.”
Gus’s body was to be taken to the funeral parlor for one day of visitation that afternoon, and then cremated the next day.
The clerk, a slightly built thirty-something lab technician, was new on the job and loving the excitement that frequently accompanied it. He had voraciously devoured the story of the explosion that had destroyed the Connelly complex and pondered the reason why Gus Schmidt and Kate Connelly had been there in the predawn hour just as the fire started. Knowing he had no business asking the question, his curiosity still got the better of him. “Did you hear why Schmidt and the daughter were there?”
Recognizing a fellow gossip, Walters replied, “Nobody’s said anything. But everyone knows Gus Schmidt never got over being fired.”
“A couple of fire marshals were here yesterday to pick up his clothes. When they have a suspicious fire, the first thing they do is gather the clothes of any victims for evidence.”
“Whenever we have a funeral with a fire involved, there’s alwaysan investigation,” Walters said. “Some of them are caused by acts of God, like lightning. Some of them are accidents, like kids playing with matches. We had one where a three-year-old did that. He ran outside but his grandmother ended up dying of smoke inhalation looking for him. Or you get someone who can’t sell a house or a business property and the insurance looks good to them. Rumor is that Connelly’s business was on the way downhill.”
Walters realized that he was talking out of turn and that it would be prudent to sign the necessary papers to obtain the release of the body of Gus Schmidt and be on his way.
22
A fter a sleepless night, Lottie Schmidt dozed briefly in the early hours on Friday morning. The
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