Page 25 of Investigation of a Quest

“Then you have your answer.”

“I should’ve talked to you sooner,” Bel joked as Dorothy climbed into the back seat.

“You will from now on.” Olivia grabbed her partner’s hand before they greeted the deputy.

“Have you ever delivered a death notice?” Bel asked Dorothy.

“The worst thing I’ve done is give out a parking ticket.” The woman looked on the verge of flinging herself out of the moving car.

“We’ll do the talking to make it easier for you,” Bel said, “but some pointers first. The Calon family will be distraught, and upset families can react in different ways. Some stay silent, some cry hysterically, and some blame us. It’s okay to be sympathetic, but don’t fall to pieces around them. If you need to cry, wait until you’re alone. And if they get angry, let them yell. They aren’t mad at you, but you’re all they have to rage at. It isn’t personal. They just need an outlet.”

“I’m not sure I want to do this.” Dorothy’s face paled.

“You can stay in the car,” Olivia offered.

“No,” Dorothy said. “This is my town. This is a family that I know. I should do this.”

“Okay,” Olivia said as Bel parked before the gorgeous two-story house. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The trio vacated the vehicle and knocked on the front door, but by the tears in Mrs. Calon’s eyes when she answered, she already knew. Her husband had disappeared, and now three officers stood on her porch. She knew Frank was never coming home, and she collapsed to her knees, clinging to Dorothy’s familiar legs. Within seconds, her kids joined them, six boys and girls sobbing with their mother until it was all the officers could do to keep from joining the distraught huddle.

They eventually moved the seven family members into the sprawling living room, Mrs. Calon’s friends and parents already present to offer comfort, and with the help of the woman’s sister, Bel and Olivia made a pot of tea before they settled in for the worst conversation of this family’s lives.

“Your husband worked at the hospital?” Bel asked, opening the floor for discussion.

“He was a cardiovascular surgeon,” his wife answered, and the two detectives exchanged a look. The brain of a professor who knew too much, and a heart from a doctor with a loving family. There was clearly a pattern, and where there was a pattern, there was usually repetition.

“I hate to ask this, but did your husband have any enemies at work? Did any families blame him for the death of a relative?” Bel asked.

“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Calon said. “Frank was well-loved at his job.”

“Had he ever been named in a lawsuit?” Bel asked, and when the woman shook her head, she made a mental note to confirm that with the hospital.

“Did your husband know a Professor Jack Samuel who taught at Ozland College?” Olivia asked.

“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Calon said. “I guess they could’ve met through the hospital, but I have no idea who that is. Why? Was he the scarecrow?”

“Yes,” Olivia answered, which earned her a fresh round of tears.

“Who could have done this?” the wife asked.

“We’ll find out for you, I promise,” Deputy Dorothy said, before slamming her mouth shut at Bel’s glare.

“We’re trying to find that out,” Bel corrected, “and we will do everything in our power to hopefully give you answers. When was the last time you saw your husband?”

“The day before the haunted house judging,” the wife answered. “He had a surgery that ran long, and he never came home.”

“Was that uncommon?” Olivia asked.

“Not at all. He often got caught at work, so he would sleep on his office couch. I wasn’t worried when he didn’t come home, but when he didn’t answer his cell or office phone the next day, I called the hospital to page him. They said he’d left the night before, and that’s when I panicked…” She dissolved into tears, and her mother moved closer to wrap her in her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Bel said. “Do you need to take a break?”

“No.” The woman straightened her spine. “I want you to find who did this to my husband. Please continue.”

“How come you didn’t file a missing person’s report?” Bel asked.

“You can’t until it’s been twenty-four hours,” she said. “Hospital security confirmed he left of his own free will, so there were no signs of foul play. And by the time the twenty-four hours had passed, the tin man was on the evening news. I was too afraid to go to the police, then, because what if it was him? It was better not knowing.”