Cracks in the Sidewalk(85)

“Yes, it indicates he’s feeling a bit more optimistic.”

“I fail to see how one has anything to do with the other,” Charlie mumbled as he followed her up the walkway. Claire touched her finger to the doorbell and rang it just once. They waited several minutes, but no one answered.

“We’ll just sit on the stoop and wait,” she said.

“I’d rather not,” Charlie answered. “Let’s go for a bite of lunch and come back later.”

They compromised, waiting for fifteen minutes then heading off to the diner.

After lunch they returned to the house and rang the doorbell a second time; still no answer. Again they waited, this time for nearly an hour. Claire lowered herself onto the stoop, and Charlie paced up and down the walkway. Finally he convinced Claire they ought to come back in the evening when Jeffrey was more likely to be at home.

It was dark by the time they returned. Upon seeing the lights of the house ablaze, Claire said, “He’s obviously at home now.”

Once again they rang the doorbell and waited, and this time it was only moments before the door swung open.

“Yes?”

Claire had never seen the brown-eyed woman before. “Are you the housekeeper?”

“I suppose you could say that,” the woman said with a laugh. “I’m Fran Lombard.”

“Oh.” Claire stuck her hand out. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Claire McDermott, and this is Charlie.”

“Yes…and?”

“We’re the children’s grandparents,” Claire explained. “We’re here to see Jeffrey.”

“Oh,” the woman chuckled. “You must be looking for Mister Caruthers, the previous owner.”

Stepping closer to the door, Charlie said, “Previous owner? Jeffrey Caruthers and his children no longer live here?”

“Not for some time,” Fran Lombard answered. “They moved before we bought the house, and we’ve been here for over a month.”

“Where did they move to?” Claire asked in a high-pitched, anxious voice.

Fran shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. We never even met the man. The real estate agent handled everything.”

“Do you have the name of the agent?” Charlie asked.

“I’m pretty sure it was Elkins. Pamela, I think. She works for Somerset Realty.”

“What about mail?” he asked. “Do you have a forwarding address?”

Fran shook her head again. “Sorry. I just give it back to the postman and say he doesn’t live here anymore.” She saw the look of distress on their faces and added, “But I’ll bet the post office has a forwarding address, because he still gets a lot of bills coming to this address.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said. Then he turned and walked away with Claire, who was too tearful to say anything.

~

The following day the search for Jeffrey began. It started at the post office with a clerk who claimed they had no forwarding address for Jeffrey Caruthers, and if they did it would be illegal to give it out to an unauthorized party.

“I can only release that information to Mister Caruthers himself,” she said.

“He already knows it!” Claire snapped.

The second stop was the Somerset Realty office. Pamela Elkins did work there, the manager said, and she had handled the sale of the Caruthers house. But she was on vacation in the Caribbean and not due back for three weeks.

“Do you have a forwarding address?” Charlie asked.

“Not in our files. It’s possible that Pamela knows the new address but—”

“I know. She’s on vacation.”

“Right.”

The next stop was Noreen Sarnoff’s office.

“We’re trying to get in touch with Jeffrey,” Charlie explained. “But apparently he has—”

“Skipped town?” Noreen said sarcastically.

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” Charlie replied diplomatically, “but he has moved. He’s sold his house and—”

“Skipped,” Noreen repeated.

Claire registered a look of alarm. “Do you know where he went?”

“If I knew where that deadbeat was, I’d be collecting what he owes me.”

“But you’re his lawyer. Don’t you have some way of contacting him?”

“Nope. He was there one day, gone the next. He never even put the proceeds of his house in the bank. He took the certified check, cashed it, and disappeared the same day.”

“Have you spoken with Pamela Elkins?”

“Yeah. She knows something, but she’s got a serious case of lip-lock. Whatever she does know, she’s not going to tell.”

“And there’s no other way to find him?” Charlie asked.

“Through friends possibly or family. They won’t talk to me, but they might be willing to tell you where he is. Other than that…” Noreen spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

“What about the court?” Claire asked. “Doesn’t he have to tell them—”

“Unfortunately not. He’s got sole custody of the kids, so he can take them anywhere he pleases without telling anyone.”

Claire groaned. “They’re our grandchildren. We’ve got to find them.”