“C’mon in, Verbal,” Duffy hollered.
The door opened. Verbal’s wife stood on the threshold looking wet and miserable, her shoulders hunched against the rain.
“Annie. What are you doing here? Something happen to Verbal?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Annie said. “I wondered if you’d seen or heard from him. He hasn’t been home for a few days.”
Duffy ushered Annie into the room and closed the door. He didn’t know what to say.
“I thought maybe you’d know where he got to.” Her voice trembled, thick with tears.
“I don’t,” said Duffy. “Maybe he’s stuck in the ditch somewhere.”
“He didn’t take the car. And most of his clothes are gone.” She wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do—don’t know where to begin to look. I don’t understand it.”
Duffy grabbed his coat and hat. “We’d better go on up to the police station and make a missing persons report. Maybe they’ve heard something.”
The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and the wipers left streaks arched across the windshield. The old truck grumbled through the pot-holes, splashing plumes of puddle water into the ditches.
“Do you think he might have taken the plane and gone off somewhere?” asked Annie.
“How could he do that? He doesn’t know how to fly.”
“Sure he does. He’s had his pilot’s license for years.”
“He told me he’d never flown a plane in his life. Why would he lie about a thing like that? We’re partners.”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t understand this whole thing. I can’t—I’m not sure this is really happening.”
Duffy felt a hollow fear crawl into his gut. He yanked on the steering wheel and turned the truck toward the docks. At the edge of the parking lot he slammed on the brakes. Wavelets chopped a steady rhythm against the now empty pier where the plane had been securely tied just two days ago.
They rode into town in silence. Parking on the main street, Duffy helped Annie down from her seat. “You go on ahead,” he told her. “I’ve got something to do real quick, then I’ll be right along.”
Annie turned in the direction of the police station, and Duffy hurried to the bank. He filled out a withdrawal slip and handed it to the teller.
“Sorry, sir. This account has been closed.”
“Closed?” squeaked Duffy. “By who?”
“The other principle,” she said, shifting a wad of gum to the other cheek. “I remember him; he came in with his wife, a striking woman, she was.”
“His wife? What did she look like?”
“Couldn’t help noticing her. Glossy blonde hair. Wore lots of make-up. They were such a happy couple.”
The ball of dread that had been crowding the space in Duffy’s chest thumped to the bottom of his stomach. Mumbling thanks to the teller, he made his way out into the rain. He stood outside, dumbfounded. His plane, bank account and partner: gone in the flick of an eye. Turning his collar up, he started along the street toward the police station.
* * *
Casey put her napkin in her lap as the waiter delivered steaming bowls of chowder to their table.
“That’s some story, Mom,” said Dianna. “What happened to him after that?”
Casey stirred her soup. “He didn’t go back to flying—mostly got work here and there, doing this and that. He saw a lot of Annie—helped her raise the two boys best he could. Your dad often asked him why he didn’t just up and marry her, but Duffy said he just wasn’t the marrying kind.”
David had been looking thoughtful. “You sure the man’s name was Verbal Parsons?” he asked.
“As far as I know,” said Casey, blowing on a spoonful of the hot soup. “Duffy used to get hopping mad every time he talked about it—which wasn’t often. But I’m sure that was the right name.”
“I’ll be danged. Talk about a small world.”
“How so?”
“My mum had a story about this guy who came along with a great business deal. Dad lost a lot of money. He didn’t talk about it—I think he was embarrassed. But I know one thing for sure; the bloody bloke’s name was Verbal Parsons.”
Casey watched from the window as a sea-plane made a landing on the choppy water, then taxied up to the dock. “So the old scoundrel made it all the way to Australia. It’s a strange, small world, indeed.”
