The Shape of Night(49)

“Who are you, exactly?”

“My name is Ava Collette. I’m living in the house in Tucker Cove that Charlotte used to rent. I have a few things that she left behind, and I’d like to send them to her.”

“Wait. Isn’t she still staying there?”

“No. She left town over a month ago and I assumed she went home to Boston. I mailed her package there and it bounced back to me.”

“Well, she hasn’t been back in Boston. I haven’t seen her since June. Not since she left for Maine.”

We’re both silent for a moment, pondering the mystery of where Charlotte Nielson might be.

“Do you have any idea where she is now?” I ask.

“When she left Boston, she gave me her forwarding address. It’s a PO box.”

“Where?”

“In Tucker Cove.”





Twenty


Donna Branca isn’t the least bit alarmed by what I’ve told her.

“The man you spoke to is just her neighbor, so he might not know where she’s gone. Maybe she’s out of state visiting relatives. Or she’s traveling abroad. There’s any number of reasons why she didn’t go home to Boston.” Her phone rings and she swivels around to answer it. “Branca Property Sales and Management.”

I stare across the desk at her, waiting for her to finish the call and continue our conversation, but I can already see she’s tuned me out and is fully focused instead on signing up a new rental property to manage: four bedrooms, view of the water, only a mile from the village. I’m just an annoying tenant, trying to play detective. This is Tucker Cove, not Cabot Cove, and only on Murder, She Wrote would a summer tourist investigate a woman’s disappearance.

    At last Donna hangs up and turns back to me with an expression of why are you still here? “Is there some reason you’re worried about Charlotte? You’ve never even met her.”

“She doesn’t answer her cellphone. She hasn’t responded to emails in weeks.”

“In the letter she sent me, she said she’d be out of touch for a while.”

“Do you still have that letter?”

With a sigh, Donna swivels around to a filing cabinet and pulls out the folder for Brodie’s Watch.

“This is what she mailed me from Boston, after she vacated. As you can see, there’s nothing alarming about it.” She hands me a typed letter which is, indeed, matter-of-fact.


Donna, due to a family crisis, I had to leave Tucker Cove immediately. I won’t be returning to Maine. I know there’s still two months left on my lease, but I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a new tenant. I hope my deposit will be enough to cover the early departure. I left the house in good condition.

Cellphone coverage will be spotty where I’m going, so if you need to reach me, email is best.

Charlotte



I read the letter twice, my puzzlement deepening, and look at Donna. “Don’t you think this is strange?”

“Her deposit covered everything. And she did leave the house in good shape.”

“Why didn’t she mention where she’s going?”

“Somewhere out of cellphone range.”

“Out of the country? Into the wilderness? Where?”

Donna shrugs. “All I know is, she was paid up.”

    “And now it’s weeks later and she’s still unreachable. Her neighbor in Boston has no idea where she is. He told me the number of her PO box in Tucker Cove is 137. For all we know, her mail is still sitting there, uncollected. Doesn’t any of this bother you?”

For a moment she taps her fingers on the desk. At last she picks up the phone and dials. “Hello, Stuart? It’s Donna Branca. Could you do me a big favor and check on a PO box for me? The number is 137. It belonged to one of my tenants, Charlotte Nielson. No, Stuart, I’m not asking you to reveal anything you shouldn’t. It’s just that Charlotte left town weeks ago and I want to know if her mail’s being forwarded anywhere. Yes, I’ll stay on the line.” She glances at me. “He’s bending the rules a little, but this is a small town and we all know each other.”

“Can he give us her forwarding address?” I ask.

“I’m not going to push it, okay? He’s nice enough just to be doing this for us.” Her attention snaps back to the phone. “Yes, Stuart, I’m here. What?” She frowns. “It’s all still there? And she never gave you a forwarding address?”

I lean forward, my gaze riveted to her face. Although I’m hearing only half the conversation, I know that something is very wrong and now even Donna is disturbed. Slowly she hangs up and looks at me.

“She hasn’t picked up her mail in over a month. Her PO box is stuffed full and she never gave them a forwarding address.” Donna shakes her head. “This is so strange.”

“It’s more than strange.”

“Maybe she just forgot to fill out a change of address card.”

“Or she couldn’t fill it out.”

We stare at each other for a moment and the same possibility suddenly rears up in both our minds. Charlotte Nielson has dropped off the face of the earth. She doesn’t answer her phone or her emails and she has not picked up her mail in weeks.