The Secret (Seacliff High Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

A gust of wind from the open window scattered the paperwork, causing one of the bank statements to fall to the floor. Alyson bent to pick it up and took a closer look. “Wait a minute. What do we have here?”

On Monday morning Alyson couldn’t wait to tell her friends about her findings, but Chelsea was within listening distance during first period, and it wouldn’t really be fair to Eli, who didn’t share any classes with Alyson, Trevor, or Mac, to discuss the situation in his absence.

“So,” Alyson blurted out as soon as she sat down at their regular lunch table near the window, “you’ll never guess what I found in those boxes of papers last night.”

“Spill,” Trevor encouraged, as anxious to hear what she had to say as she was to say it.

“One of the boxes contained a bunch of financial receipts, which, judging by the dates, must have belonged to Barkley. I came across a check register showing a ten-thousand-dollar deposit into an account through Cutter’s Cove Community Bank. There were a number of expenditures, including monthly utility bills, a weekly check to the Cutter’s Cove Market, and various checks to other local stores here and there. The really interesting thing, though,” Alyson took a bite of her sandwich, pausing for dramatic effect, “is that every month between September 1955 and May 1968 there was a check made out to Mary Swanson.”

“You think she was the mother of his illegitimate child?” Mac dipped the end of her corn dog in the mustard on her plate.

“I’m not sure,” Alyson admitted. “I just found it interesting that Barkley would be paying this woman a good chunk of change every month for thirteen years.”

“Yeah, but why only thirteen years?” Trevor queried after doing the math. “If old Barkley was paying some type of child support don’t you think he would have done so until the child turned at least eighteen?”

“Maybe,” Alyson said. “The reality is, she could have been a cleaning lady or some other type of regular help. But it’s a start. I think it would be worth our while to research Mary a little more thoroughly.”

“I agree.” Mac started making a few notes on a yellow legal pad. “I could search local hospital and county records online to see if there’s any documentation of a birth related to Mary. I could also find out if there are any records indicating where we might find her at this point in time.” Mac continued to scribble notes as she spoke. “I’d also be interested in where the money that was deposited in Barkley’s account each month came from.” She stopped writing and bit the end of her pen. “That may be a little harder to backtrack. Banks tend to have pretty good security systems, so hacking in might take a while.”

“My dad’s out of town. You could come over to my place to do your search if you want,” Eli offered. “We probably have some software you wouldn’t otherwise have access to.”

“That’d be great.” Mac started writing furiously again. “Is after school okay?”

“I get done with football practice around four thirty. Meet me by the door to the boys’ gym and we’ll go to my house from there.”

“If Mac and Eli are going to work on the computer record, I think I’ll go into town to try to talk to some of the town’s senior residents. Someone must still be around who would remember Mary. Want to come with me, Trevor? I could use a local along who knows the town and its people. To be honest, I’d have no idea where to start otherwise.”

“Sure, why not? I’ll meet you at the gym after practice.”

The rest of the day flew by as Alyson waited impatiently for four thirty to roll around. She’d already called her mom to tell her she’d be eating dinner in town with her friends. She had a real feeling about this Mary. It wasn’t like she was psychic or anything, but she often got a sort of tingly feeling deep in her gut when things were about to be blown wide open. Besides, Barkley seemed to want her to find the specific records pertaining to Mary. It hadn’t been windy at all the night before. Not even a breeze. The sudden gust of wind had to have come from Barkley’s spirit.

After computer lab Alyson went to the library to get a start on her homework. She arrived at the boys’ gym promptly at 4:15 and found Mac leaning against the wall waiting.

“Been here long?” Alyson asked.

“Just a few minutes. I decided to do my homework before coming over.”

“Me too. I just came from the library. I hope the guys don’t fall behind. We’re keeping them pretty busy. And with football and all . . .”

“Trevor’s really smart, and he’s only taking two AP classes. I think he’ll be fine. And even though we don’t know Eli all that well, he seems pretty capable.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Alyson leaned against the wall next to Mac. “As long as we have this figured out by midterms at least.”

“We will,” Mac promised. “I have this feeling deep in my gut that things are about to start falling into place.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. It’s like I feel we’re on the verge of some great epiphany.”

“People are starting to come out,” Mac observed. “We’ll talk some more tomorrow at lunch.”

“Actually,” Alyson said, searching the emerging crowd for Trevor and Eli, “I’m sort of surprised Chelsea didn’t join us at lunch today. I was afraid she would. She sat with us every day last week.”

“I heard the cheerleaders are holding extra practices at lunch all this week in preparation for Friday’s game and Saturday’s parade. I think we’ll be okay this week. But next week, who knows?”

By the time she finished speaking the boys had joined them, and each pair walked off its separate ways.

“So where do we start?” Trevor asked once they were seated in his 1965 Mustang convertible.

“I’m not really sure. I figure if Mary had been Barkley’s secret mistress, she would have to be at least in her seventies if she’s still around. We need to talk to people who would have been alive during the time of her supposed pregnancy, so we’re talking the more senior of the town’s residents.”

“There’s a retired schoolteacher who still lives in town. My dad told me he had her in the fourth grade, so she must have been teaching during the sixties. Actually, if Mary did have a child, and he or she did go to school here, he or she would probably have gone to elementary school the same time my dad did.”

“I guess you could ask your dad if he remembers anyone with the last name of Swanson. Although it might seem weird because we don’t know if we’re talking about a boy or a girl.”

“Yeah, but that gives me an idea. We should have Mac search school records for a student with the last name of Swanson. He or she would have been in elementary school from . . .” Trevor mentally did the math, “approximately 1960 to 1966, give or take a year.”

“I’ll try to reach her on her cell,” Alyson offered, pulling her own cell phone from her purse.

“Tell her to check junior high and high school records while she’s at it,” Trevor added after they connected.

“Okay, now what?” Alyson asked, clicking off her phone and sliding it back into her purse.

“If our theory is correct Mary would have been working as a delivery person for Cutter’s Cove Market at the time she hooked up with old Barkley. I say we start there,” Trevor suggested.

“Okay, but we need a cover. We don’t want rumors about our little search alerting the wrong person.”

Trevor agreed. “We could use the school paper approach. We could say we’re writing a paper on the town, focusing primarily on its’ long-term residents and businesses. Cutter’s Cove Market has been here since the thirties. It should qualify.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll see whose working today and wing it once we get started.”

The place was fairly deserted, which was surprising considering the time of day. The only employee visible was a checker, leaning against the counter reading a magazine. They walked over, introduced themselves, and explained their mission.

“Only lived here about five years myself,” the checker explained. “Not much of a history buff, so I probably can’t tell you much about the place before that. The owner, Mr. Sheldon, might be more helpful, but he’s gone for the day. He took the store over from his dad, so he’s been around forever. He left early to go on a fishing trip. He should be back in a few days. If he calls in I’ll tell him you were looking for him.”

“Thank you for your time,” Alyson said as they turned to walk away.

“You know who you should talk to?” the clerk added as they neared the door.

“Who?” Alyson stopped and turned around.

“Old Mr. Wilson. He retired a couple of years ago, but he worked here as a janitor for about a hundred years before that.”

“Do you know his first name, or have a number where we can reach him?” Trevor asked.

“His name is Ben. Don’t know his number, but I’d venture to say he’s in the book. Lives over off First somewhere.”

“You don’t happen to have a phone book we can borrow?” Trevor asked, gifting the middle-aged woman with one of his famous to-die-for smiles.

“Sure, come on back to the office. Maybe your friend could keep an eye out for any customers who might wander in.”

“Sure thing.” Alyson smiled. Trevor should be ashamed of himself, flirting with the poor woman like that. Of course it probably made her day.

Alyson looked around the store while she waited for Trevor to return. Unlike the specialty markets she was familiar with, this one seemed to contain a little bit of everything. There were your usual canned and boxed goods, fresh meat and seafood counters, an assortment of baked goods bearing the name of the bakery on the wharf, and a good selection of dairy products. There was a pharmacy in the corner, and a section of the store offered basic clothing products like jeans, sweatshirts, socks, and T-shirts. You could even buy a sturdy pair of work boots or nonname-brand tennis shoes. Next to the shoes there were several counters packed with hardware items and household necessities, and the entire back corner was filled with hunting, fishing, and camping supplies. The store was reminiscent of the one-stop trading posts featured in the few westerns she’d seen.

Alyson walked back to the front of the store to check out the candy counter, which prominently displayed an extensive selection. She was seriously considering splurging on some of the locally made chocolates when she heard Trevor returning from the office at the back.

“Thanks again for your time.” Trevor smiled once more at the woman as he walked toward Alyson with a slip of paper in his hand.

“Come on back now,” the clerk cooed.

“You’re really a piece of work,” Alyson accused as Trevor grabbed her by the hand and dragged her toward the door. “Playing with that poor woman’s emotions like that.”

“I got the number, though.” He held up the piece of paper triumphantly. “Actually, better than the number. Gladys let me use the phone. I called old Ben and he said we could come on over.”

“Right now?”

“Right now. He said he put out some tea and cookies and we could have a nice visit. He sounded lonely,” Trevor added as they drove toward First Street.

“I’m impressed. You really know how to take care of business. I’d probably have just taken the number and called tomorrow or something. Of course if you weren’t such a pretty boy we might not have got the number at all.”

“Don’t you start too. I hate it when Mac calls me that.”

“Why? Is it an affront to your masculinity or something?”

“Something like that.” Trevor looked down at the note in his hand. “Here’s the house. Are we sticking to our school paper strategy?”

“Yeah, for now,” Alyson confirmed as they walked up the three short steps leading to the porch and rang the bell.

“Come in. Come in,” a jolly little man greeted them. “My, aren’t you a pretty little thing.” He gently grabbed Alyson by the chin to get a better look at her face.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about the town, the store, and their history, if you don’t mind,” Trevor said.

“Sure. Sure. I’d love to.” The old man started walking toward the back of the house. “I’ve set out tea and cookies. We’ll have a nice long chat, shall we?”

For the first half hour or so they asked the man about the history of the town and the market to avoid drawing undo attention to what really interested them. Alyson took notes during the conversation, in keeping with their school paper cover.

“My dad grew up here and remembered a woman by the name of Mary Swanson who used to work here in the early 1960s,” Trevor lied.

Alyson crossed her fingers for good measure.

“Let’s see.” The old man put his hand to his chin in thought. “There was a pretty little thing named Mary who worked at the store for a spell, but I think it was about ten years before that. If memory serves, she probably would have been gone by the sixties. Cute little thing. Too bad what happened to her.”

“Something happened to her?” Trevor prodded.

“Went and got herself pregnant. Never did say who the father was. Back then young women didn’t have babies out of wedlock. She was fired as soon as the boss found out. Don’t know how she managed all on her own with no job and a baby to raise. I saw her around a few times right after the boy was born, but then she sort of disappeared. I figured she moved on to a town where people didn’t know about her embarrassment.”

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” Alyson asked.

“No clue. Never saw her again.”

The pair asked a few more general questions about other past employees, then thanked the man for his hospitality and promised to come back sometime at his repeated insistence.