Chapter 2: Monday
“Good morning, Miss Llana. I wanted to be here ten minutes earlier, I truly did, but I detoured to get a better look…before they turned me around. Something big is going on just east of town. Several shiny important-looking black cars, a couple of state police vehicles, and men in suits everywhere. Kids won’t be on their way to school for another hour. Phones lines probably tied up all over town. Anything on the radio? Cedar Post hasn’t had this much official attention since the last fighter jet crash near the bombing range.” Amelia talks while removing her own coat and donning a kitchen apron, helping Jane Llana with her coat and gloves, and following her employer down the front lane. “Here’s your purse and cane, Miss Llana. You might be out most of the morning.”
“Do just stick to your routine, Amelia. I’ve left a short shopping list. I hope that the grocer has some fruit today. I’ll be back here by noon.” She walks across the wide main avenue, then turns toward the stand of trees that separates the town from the open spaces and ranches beyond.
When Jane Llana is within three feet of her, Eliza visibly jumps. “Oh! Miss Llana, I didn’t hear you coming. Lovely sunrise. I’m in town early to have coffee with Nina…Miss Juel, the art teacher. Before she reports in at the school. How lovely to see you.” They stand together under a large elm, its tiny green buds a token of summer shade, facing east and the rising sun, with their backs to the parsonage.
“I’m pleased to see you, Eliza. Since you moved to the ranch last year, we seldom have a chance to converse. How is your father-in-law? Has he recovered his strength…enough to do some ranch chores or drive into town?” Jane Llana steps closer to Eliza and resumes watching the activity taking place beyond the town limits.
“Oh, yes. Grandpa Pritchard is back to his busy self. Beside all his own work, he is teaching John to ride and mend fences.” Eliza glances several times at Miss Llana without moving her body or head. She crosses her arms and begins to dig at the dirt with her boot. Eliza Pritchard is a young woman, twenty-six, who gave birth to John the same month in 1944 that his father died on the Normandy beaches. She did not remarry but tried to raise her son in Cedar Post while working part time in the library. Her son’s grandfather persistently hounded her to move to the ranch Where John could be properly raised by men.
“I’m happy to hear that Mr. Pritchard is active again.” Jane spies her nephew among several men returning to their cars. After a pause, she says, “I often wonder whether we should willingly put children into high-risk situations. Life has plenty of surprises and consequences without our creating more.” They pause conversation for a few minutes. “I count fourteen men out there. You must have taken the long way into town this morning, unless you’ve been here all night. What do you think is going on over there?”
Eliza clears her throat. “Well, I don’t know, Miss Llana. Are they leaving? I came into town early. As far as I know, what they are doing is far enough north of the highway to let me and others drive into town. I wasn’t here yesterday, Miss Llana. I couldn’t have stayed overnight.”
“Yes. Of course. You don’t usually come into town on a Sunday. It’s just that a person with your height and build was in the park yesterday. You seem a bit shaken by the activity over there. Is anything worrying you?”
“Nothing important, Miss Llana. It’s just that I am running late. Goodbye.” Eliza limps to her car and drives into town.
“Yes. Well. I’ll see little Alice before she goes to school.” Jane Llana walks to Adele’s house and knocks. “Good morning. I hope that I can have a little talk with Alice before she leaves. May I?”
“Come in, Jane. Of course. Alice, Miss Llana is here to have tea with us before you hurry off. Please sit down, Jane. I’ll get you a cup.”
Alice chews her last bite of ham and wipes her mouth. “I’m done with breakfast. I only need to brush my teeth. So, I’ve time to talk.”
“You are such a bright girl, Alice. I know you had a big day yesterday. And, no doubt, you stood up smartly with the men who talked with you and asked you to show them where you found the large bag. Now that you’ve had a good night’s rest…what did you see or hear that you didn’t remember to tell them yesterday?” Jane Llana leans in toward Alice and waits.
“How did you know? I remembered something. When I found the valise – I like that word – I couldn’t walk with it. I guess I should have left my rock collection there…to go back for them next Sunday. But I remembered that Mr. Griego would harness his mule to pull the tiller behind it. So, I fashioned the rope. While I was doing that, I heard a truck engine. There wasn’t a truck in sight in any direction. And it didn’t sound like a truck that was near me. Its engine revved for a couple of minutes; then it stopped.”
“Oh. That is very good, Alice. Just one more question, then you must get to school. Did anyone call you by name?”
“Yes. Just once. Grandmother must have thought I was gone too long on my Sunday adventure. I’m off! See you later, Grandma.” With that, Alice runs to the restroom and out the door of the house without another word. Jane and Adele watch her with smiles that show their appreciation for a child’s energy.
“I did not step outside the house to call Alice yesterday. I wonder who it was that called her.”
“Yes. That is curious. Who was it? Why?” Jane Llana steps outside and sees that her nephew waits in a car that is parked at the curb in front of her home. “I should see my nephew before he leaves town. Thank you, Adele.”
“Will you be at Tea and Tittle-Tattle today, Jane?” Adele speaks to Jane’s retreating figure.
Jane pauses to say, “Not today, dear. I count on you to remember all the gossip. Take notes.” She waves and hurries on. “Walter! I did not want to keep you waiting.” Jane Llana looks both ways before crossing Main Street. Her nephew steps out of the car.
“Slow down, Aunt Jane. There’s no need to hurry. I’m done here and need to leave right away. But I would not leave without seeing you again.” They walk into the house together. After Miss Llana hangs her hat and coat, she walks into the sitting room where her nephew already occupies a space on the settee.
“I’m so glad you can spare a few minutes with me, dear Walter. I won’t keep you. Such goings on. Whose body did you find?” She picks up the needlework and waits.
“State police and the mortuary cannot have already leaked that news. Well. Go ahead. Tell me how you know we located a body. I will share with you that we don’t know who he is. He is not a local, and there was no identification in the truck or on his body.” Walter leans back and grins.
“I doubt very much that you and your colleagues would share the valise or its documents with state police. Yet state police were out there this morning with you. Of course, police will use a postmortem photo and his fingerprints to try to identify him. The license plate on the truck is probably a stolen plate. You found a second set of shoe prints in the dirt somewhere near the truck or between the rocks where little Alice found the valise and the truck. Was he crushed by the truck?”
“Dear Aunt Jane, you know that I cannot share any more details. It will be difficult to explain at the labs that you might have looked through some of the valise’ contents. I will paint a picture of a silly old woman who saw big words and called her nephew because she assumed I know what the big words mean.” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Listen to me. All we care about are the documents. The dead man is a matter for local police. He is not one of us. There are no alerts for missing scientists. Alice did not go to the truck or know about the truck. What makes you curious about the dead man?”
“He is the key to all of this. There will be more cases like this one. Somewhere soon, if not already. The scientists and intelligence officials care about the documents. They should care about the men and women who procure and pass the documents. They are nobody until they matter. It is the same when children or women go missing. Instead of looking for networks that make their disappearances possible, police look only for the dead bodies.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Walter, those documents are dead objects. The information in them has been used and copied multiple times since ‘45. Nonetheless, people who want them will do anything for them. What kind of people want them? Who is recruited to get them? How is recruitment accomplished?”
“But, Aunt Jane, conjuring up spy agencies and international intrigue will muddy the waters. What has put that seed into your wonderful brain?”
“Someone called to little Alice by her name, and an outsider died... within minutes of each other. And Eliza Pritchard is afraid.”