The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:
The Disappearance of Jack Arneson
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm
Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am
Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am
Sunday morning, Jeanette and Missy sat in Jeanette’s aging, silver Saturn across the street from the circle drive entrance of the assisted living facility; a tall, sprawling building composed of pinkish, modern brick, flat, tinted windows, and the occasional touch of dull, silver metal. The place looked nice enough, but neither woman was looking forward to actually going inside. Memories of the many times Jean had dragged them to nursing homes to visit various relatives and old family friends had left them with a bad taste in their mouths. Well, not their mouths, so much -more like their noses. The smell of antiseptic cleaning products co-mingling with the odor of the communal-living elderly had been a constant at these places and not something either woman longed to revisit.
Still, reasoned Missy, the smell of an old folk’s home couldn’t be any worse than her aunt's car, which smelled vaguely of wet dog and stale fast food. Weighing her options. Missy decided she’d rather take her chances sweating with the oldies.
Jeanette broke the silence, “What do you say? Might as well get it over with. Terri’s not getting any younger, you know.”
Still, neither made the first move.
Buying time, Jeanette suggested, “We should have brought her something, like a gift, or... hold on, I have something that might work.” Jeanette turned awkwardly in her seat and began rummaging through the stuff she’d taken from Jean’s condo. Missy was surprised the bags were still in the car, but then, given the look of the backseat, it appeared anything that entered Jeanette's car, stayed in Jeanette’s car. Within a minute, her aunt emerged, holding a small doll with crone-like features, wearing a colorful pointy hat and a floral print dress.
"She'll like this.”
Missy wasn't convinced “What is it?”
“A kitchen witch. From Norway or Germany,” added Jeanette, as she plucked a small bit of fuzz from the doll’s hindquarters. “They’re supposed to ward off ill-will and promote productivity and safety in the kitchen. You know... your bread will rise, your cookies won’t burn?”
Missy remained unsure. “What if she doesn’t have a kitchen?”
Nonplussed, Jeanette continued to check the doll for signs of wear, “Then it will make a first class Halloween decoration. Come on...”
With the kitchen witch clutched in her right hand, Jeanette opened her door and began to get out. Missy eyed the building’s entrance warily one more time and followed suit. Crossing the street, she noticed the air was sweet. Spring seemed to be taking its cue from winter this year. It had been a long one and rumor had it they were in for a cool summer, as well. This morning, the sun was out, which was just enough to lift Mother Nature’s and Missy’s spirits. Jeanette held the heavy glass door open and waved her niece inside. Taking a last look at the sky, Missy breathed as deeply as possible, certain she wouldn’t be exposed to fresh air again anytime soon.
Inside, Missy was pleasantly surprised. The lobby appeared clean, and modern. She’d expected something akin to a hospital emergency room featuring highly buffed linoleum and the standard, fortress-like nurse’s desk. Instead, the room reminded her of a lobby in a nice hotel. The furniture was well-upholstered and new, the lighting, warm and inviting. Even the wall-to-wall carpet felt plush rather than cheap or industrial, lending the place an air of opulence.
Jeanette strode purposefully to the concierge desk; a low, cherry wood table with Duncan Phyfe legs. On the table was a laptop, a pristine pad of post-it notes and a cut glass vase full of fresh flowers. Behind it sat a well-appointed woman in a classy, beige tweed Coco Chanel knock-off. At least Missy assumed it was a knock-off, for she knew that the real deal bore a price tag few could afford. The woman’s hair, worn in a short, pin curl bob, had a slight lavender tint to it, which went well with her powdered complexion and carefully made-up face. Missy surmised that she had to be at least 70 and perhaps a resident volunteer. The woman’s smile was alarmingly bright, practiced, and brittle. “Gooooood Morning, Ladies," she cooed, conveying a touch of privileged pretension. “Welcome to Hambridge Manor. How may I help you?" Batting her eyes at them like an expectant school teacher drew Missy’s attention to the woman’s lashes, which, like the woman’s demeanor, appeared false and excessive. Glancing down, she caught sight of a thick, plastic name tag bearing the name 'Beatrice'. She was certain the name tag was the kind secured with magnets and not a safety pin, for, having reached the conclusion that the suit must indeed be the genuine article, there was no way a safety pin was going anywhere near that rather expensive lapel.
Missy wondered if she should address the woman by name, but didn’t have time to reach a decision, for Jeanette jumped in first.
“We’re here to see Terri Nelson.”, she said, rather bluntly.
Beatrice’s smile froze in place, her eyes betraying a kind of strained frenzy; as if the mere mention of Terri’s name evoked something deep within. “I seeeeeee...” hemmed the woman. “Why don’t the two of you have a seat over... there,” she said, indicating a pair of tasteful loveseats positioned artfully about eight feet away, “and I’ll... give her a ring.” That was when Missy noticed the blue-tooth device in the woman’s ear. Turning her back on them, Beatrice pressed a button on the earpiece and spoke a five digit code. Boy, this place was high tech - no common public address system for them. While waiting for a reply, the woman turned to face them once more and, with the back of her hand, rather dismissively waved Missy and Jeanette to take their seats.
Once seated, Jeanette leaned conspiratorially towards Missy and said, “Did you get a load of the look on that woman's face when we said we were here to see Terri? I thought she was going to start speaking in tongues.”
Missy giggled and added, “And that suit she’s wearing? $1,000, if it’s the real thing—and I’m pretty sure it is.” Jeanette’s head swiveled for a quick glance at Beatrice, who was now sitting stiffly, frozen in place behind the desk, her hands lying prone on the desk’s surface, awaiting the next visitor.
They sat in silence for a moment or two, taking in the ambiance of the lobby. “This place is pretty fancy,” observed Jeanette. “A lot fancier than I expected.”
Missy nodded her head in agreement. “I know. How in the world does someone like Terri afford it?”
“Because she had a husband who left her a healthy pension, a nice life insurance policy, and no mortgage.” Missy and Jeanette practically jumped out of their skin. The sharp, energetic voice booming from behind them unmistakably belonged to Terri. “I sold that house at the height of the market and never looked back,” she cackled. “Besides, the old neighborhood was going to hell. North Minneapolis is not what it used to be. Hey, how are you girls? Come give me a hug.”
Jeanette and Missy dutifully rose from the loveseats as Terri, surprisingly spry for a woman her age, quickly swept around; locking each woman in a brief, tight embrace. She seemed much smaller than Missy remembered. Not only had she shrunk height-wise, but also appeared to have lost some weight.
As if sensing Missy’s appraisal of her appearance, Terri crowed, “I look good. Don't I look good?” Sporting a chic, little, embroidered tunic pant set, she looked much more youthful than Beatrice, even though she was considerably older. Her hair and makeup lent her a pixie quality that flattered. Missy had to admit that the years had been good to her “It's the food here,” Terri volunteered. “It’s so good—and by good, I mean it’s healthy for you. I don't know how they do it. I eat and eat, and still managed to lose weight. Of course it could have to do with all the activities around this place. From the moment I get up in the morning until I lay my head on my pillow at night I am busy, busy, busy. It’s like I’m having a second adolescence or something. And I am; I feel like a kid again."
“Shhhhhh... ”
All three women’s heads swiveled about, zeroing in on its source. Terri’s eyes narrowed. She was having none of it.
“Oh, now, Beatrice, don’t you go shooshing me! I pay my own way around here. And how often do I get visitors? This is a lobby for criss-sakes, not a funeral parlor.” The two elderly woman scowled at each other, locked in a power struggle, until Beatrice, taking the high road, simply turned her back on the trio. Still a bit miffed, Terri commanded, “C’mon ladies, let’s go sit in one of the visiting rooms. They have bottled water and those little 100 calorie snack packs in there.” Leaving the battlefield, Terri confided, “I’d invite you up to my place, but I didn’t have time to pick up this morning and the place is a mess. Clothes everywhere. That’s what happens you know, ‘cause you need a different outfit for every activity - Pilates, Salsa Dancing, Bingo, Hootenanny Hour, Yoga, Disco Daze, Water Aerobics. I tell you, I take so many showers I’m amazed my skin isn’t permanently puckered like a prune. And when I’m not in the shower, I’m busy doing laundry!”
She ushered Missy and Jeannette into a small, glass enclosed room that resembled an office conference room. There was a flat screen TV on the wall, and a couch and chair pairing similar to the furniture which populated the lobby. There was also a small kitchenette with a mini-fridge. Terri made a bee-line for the fridge, producing a round of bottled waters. On the coffee table in front of the couch sat a large bowl filled with individual-sized bags of snacks- all promising health and well-being. Missy and Jeanette accepted the water and sat on the couch as Terri grabbed a couple of the snack packs before plopping herself down in the armchair. As she sat, she kicked off her flip-flops and placed her pedicured feet, featuring freshly polished, gold glinted toenails, on the corner of the coffee table.
Once they were settled, Jeanette dove in first. “Well, you do look amazing. I can’t get over how brave you are, wearing a sleeveless tunic, like that.” Missy, who was in the middle of drinking some of her water, swallowed hard. Was Jeanette being catty, or what?
But Terri didn’t seem to read anything into it. “Are you kidding?” she shot back. “Just look at these!” Terri held her arms aloft and flexed them like a muscle man on the beach. “See how the waddles under my arms have shrunk? It’s like I have arms like Madonna. I tell you, this exercise stuff is the fountain of youth.” At this, Jeanette just cracked up. Perhaps they were more familiar with each other than Missy had initially assumed. “But enough about me”, said Terri, as she tore into a packet of mini-sized crackers. “How have you two been? And what brings you here?”
Missy and Jeanette glanced at one another. Since Jeanette had already broken the ice, Missy shrugged, as if to indicate that as far as she was concerned her aunt was in charge. Jeanette didn’t miss a beat. “We were hoping you could help us with something. Cleaning out my Mom’s condo this weekend we came across this.” She passed a Xeroxed copy of the map to Terri, whose eyes devoured it quickly. “We were hoping you might remember something or have something you could tell us about it.”
“Oh!” As if doused with cold water, Terri’s whole demeanor changed, her voice becoming a tiny replica of its former boisterous self. “The Arneson boy.” The silence that followed consumed the tiny room. Terri, who seemed to have lost her appetite, set her bags of snacks on the end table next to her chair.
After a bit, she spoke, her voice still diminished, “This was a hard one. hard on your mother, too, Jeanette. You remember how she used to dream? Well it was constant. Not just about the Arneson boy, but he was the one... he was the one that upset Jean the most.” Her eyes rose from the piece of paper to meet theirs, this former spitfire suddenly seemed very fragile. “I miss her so much, you know. I bet you do, too. Your mother and grandmother was a dear woman. Never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d be the one to outlive her. But here I am.” She sighed. Then after another brief silence, her smile returned, a bit sadder, but brave none the less. “So what would you like to know?”
Missy glanced over at her aunt. During the ensuing change of mood in the room, Jeanette had disappeared into herself and was now seemingly lost in thought, staring at her hands which sat in her lap. Missy reached over and took one of her aunt’s hands in hers and decided it was now her turn to carry the ball. “If you turn the map over, you’ll see that there is a list of things - things that we assume have something to do with the map and the dreams. None of it makes much sense to us. We were hoping that you might remember some of the details. For instance, did my grandmother ever mention St. Petersburg, MN?”
Perusing the list, Terri shook her head, “No. Not that I remember. St. Petersburg? That’s near Jasper, isn’t it? You know, we once planned to drive up and see where that whole kidnapping thing happened, but we kept putting it off. Jean would chicken out and we’d end up spending the whole day at one of the nearby outlet malls.” Brightening with the memory, her former vigor returned. “Oh, those were such good times. Once I got the nicest pair of Manolo Blahniks; silver lame’, backs encrusted with clear stones, and such a bargain. It was a silly thing to buy, I mean, where the hell was I going to wear a pair of Manolo Blahniks like those? At my age? But I bought them anyway. I bought them because I could. We should all do that, you know - do things just because we can, while we can. I wish Jean had bought a pair, but then, that was never her thing. Not practical enough. Well, screw practical.” The diminutive woman reached over and picked up the open bag of snack crackers, popping one into her mouth for emphasis. “Me? I’m not practical at all!”
In an attempt to refocus. Missy tapped the piece of paper which Terri held in her hands. "Now, about the things on this list, do any of them make sense to you? Do you remember any of the particulars?” Her eyes searched the older woman's for any type of recognition.
Cooperatively, Terri again ran through the column of items. She scanned the list up and down in silence before conceding, “Eh. I’m not seeing anything that pops, if you know what I mean.” With that, she leaned back in her arm chair, eyes still glued to the list, as her free hand found the tiny bag of crackers. Casually, she said, "Bread.” She then returned her attention to the bag of snacks.
After waiting for some type of follow-up and realizing nothing more was forthcoming. Missy leaned in and asked, “What do you mean? 'Bread.'”
Taking their cluelessness in stride, Terri answered, “I remember she said she could always smell bread... in her dreams! Can you imagine? Who smells things in their dreams? And sounds, too... she heard things... like that creepy chanting stuff the Catholics used to be so fond of.” Shifting forward in her chair, her intensity returning, she shared, “That’s when I became totally convinced that she had to have a brain tumor or something. It happens, you know. And hearing and smelling things that aren’t there? That’s one of the signs. Those suckers can grow to be the size of a grapefruit. They grow silently, too, sneaking up on you until one day, 'BAM’, you’re dead!” Both Missy’s and Jeanette’s heads snapped back in response. Terri’s eyes moved quickly back and forth between the two women in an attempt to gauge their reaction. Sensing that she may have crossed a line, her right hand covered her mouth and she said “I’m sorry. No disrespect intended. I’m glad it wasn’t a brain tumor. I would never wish something like that on anyone. That wasn’t what I meant at all.” The older woman suddenly seemed her age. She sat back in her chair, contrite. A moment of silence followed before she added, “In light of the fact that she left us so recently I guess I should just shut up or change the subject." Not knowing what else to say, Terri clammed up. She sat blinking at the two women
Missy reached over and took one of Terri's hands in hers. “That’s okay,” she reassured the older woman. “No offense meant, none taken We know how much my grandma meant to you.” Sensing that the interview was over, and that nothing more would be learned. Missy checked in with her aunt before reaching over and taking the list from Terri. “Well, thanks, Terri Thanks for taking a look We really appreciate it.”
This tiny bit of conversation was enough for Terri to feel forgiven In a flash, she picked up the conversation once more and took off running. "Hey, no problem, glad to be of help. Was I? Was I any help? Not really, huh. What exactly were you hoping for? I mean, what are you going to be doing with this? Look, I know I don’t remember much about the stuff on that list, but my memory is still good, still sharp as a tack. Like for instance, I do remember something that isn’t on that list and should be... the giant eye!”
The giant eye? This was odd enough to pique even Jeanette’s interest. Pulling herself from her own thoughts, she asked, skeptically, “What do you mean? Giant eye?”
“The eye - the big giant eye?” Terri looked at them as if this was something everyone in the world knew about. Not waiting for the girls to catch on, she explained, “It was in one of the rooms with Jack. Jean talked about it all the time and then, one day, she tells me it’s gone. It disappeared pretty much at the same time the boy did.”
Confused, Jeanette pressed for clarification, “You mean when Jack disappeared from the farm?”
“No, in the dreams. When the boy disappeared in Jean’s dreams, the big eye did, too. That big eye? It scared Jean something awful. And when you think about it, it does sound like something from one of those creep shows, huh? You know like Tales from the Darkside or something. I get such a kick out of those shows. I used to watch The X-Files, too, but after a while that got too goofy for me. Basically I watched it hoping that Muldar guy and the redhead would end up together. Nothing like a good romance. But it got goofy, so I stopped watching. The X-Files? Silly stuff. Now, The Rockford Files! There’s a show worth watching. That guy, what-his-name? James Garner! Ooo. They don’t make ‘em like him anymore.”
Missy had a vague idea about what television show Terri was referring to, but remained in the dark when it came to “the giant eye". She was about to probe a bit deeper, when suddenly Terri sprang to her feet and began pumping Jeanette’s and Missy hands like a politician. “Well thanks for stopping by, girls. Such a pleasure to see you both. I gotta get going. Our polka hour is about to start You need to get there early or all the really good dance partners are taken. And once that happens, forget it... you end up dancing with Patty Minsk, which isn’t so bad, really, she’s a pretty good hoofer. It's just every once and awhile your thigh will come in contact with her colostomy bag and then? Then the romance is really over."
About to exit the room, Terri spun around in the doorway and offered, “You know, you two, you might want to think about taking some kind of dance class or something. No offense, but it could do both of you a world of good. It’ll make you happy. You’ll lose weight. You might even nab a fella!”
Missy and Jeanette sat stunned, not knowing what to say, not that they had but a beat to get a word in edgewise, for Terri immediately chimed, “Hey, you gals take care of yourself. Good luck to both of you. Come visit again soon.”
And with that, she was gone.
Still experiencing a form of social whiplash, both Jeanette and Missy sat in silence until Jeanette began to laugh. “Look,” she croaked, raising her right hand, which still held the kitchen witch. “1 didn’t even get a chance to give it to her.” Tossing the doll on the coffee table in front of her, Jeanette reached into the bowl and grabbed a couple of the bags of snacks. “Well, maybe Beatrice will appreciate it.” Then, ripping into one of the bags, she changed the subject. “What was that? Oh, my God! That woman is still like a little tornado.” She then turned to her niece and confided, “You and I? We need to work on our interview technique. I mean, what was that stuff about a giant eye? Did you get that?”
“Not exactly," admitted Missy. “She talks so fast I think I only got every other word."
“Well,” Jeanette conceded, “at least she didn’t call us fat.”
Missy looked doubtfully at her aunt, “Actually, she sort of did.”
The two women gathered themselves up, stopping by the reception desk to thank Beatrice, who was busy talking into her ear piece and turned her back on them as they approached. Jeanette thought about offering her the kitchen witch, but then thought better of it. “I think this place already has a witch.”
Exiting, they made their way back to the car. Missy tried to think of what their next step should be. Just as she was about to get into the car, she looked over its roof and asked her aunt, “Well, what do you think? Road trip?”
Her aunt considered it for a moment and then looked at her niece as if she was speaking a foreign language. “Huh? Where? The outlet mall?” Jeanette sank into the driver’s seat.
Missy paused, before ducking inside as well. Was this really something she wanted to pursue? What did she hope to get out of all of this? A sense of closure? She slid into her seat and began to put on her seat belt. Convinced that they were on the right track, Missy again brought up the subject. “I think a visit to St. Petersburg and the surrounding area could turn out to be... well, sort of illuminating.. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into that giant eye.”
Jeanette started the car, turning on the air conditioner immediately in an effort to displace the hot, heavy air trapped within. Begrudgingly, she said, “I would have to get a dog sitter.”
Missy looked incredulous. “Really?”
“I don't want Pancho and Lefty left alone ail day. You can do that with cats,” she added with a pout, “but you can't do that with dogs.” Tearing into the remaining packet of mini cookies, she continued, “And to tell you the truth. I'm still not convinced that St. Petersburg has anything to do with this Arneson thing. A road trip right now would be..." she searched for the word “Preemptive.”
Missy s brow wrinkled “I think you mean presumptive ”
Swatting her niece away as if she were a pesky fly, she retorted, “Well it’s ‘pre' something- or-other. You’re putting the cart before the horse. I tell you what,” she offered “You come up with at least one more link to St. Petersburg and that list or map, and I’m all game.”
Missy mulled this over for a moment. She still wasn't sure why they were bothering with all this. What could be gained from any of it? She looked over at her aunt, who was busy tapping out the last crumbs from the empty snack bag. Well, if nothing else, she thought, at least she was getting Aunt Jeanette out of the house, even if that meant hiring a dog sitter. Who knows, maybe they’d end up spending the whole day at the outlet mall, just like Grandma Jean.
Missy decided to accept her aunt’s challenge.
“Okay,” she said, clicking her seat belt into place, “You’re on. But if I do find another link? You're paying for the gas.”
--- ---
Next: Chapter 11
Stay tuned!
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1 comment:
OMG I will be Terri when I'm old.
And my first car was a Saturn. How I loved that car.
It's gonna be that Jean was on to something? And that eye??
Oh, Upton.
XOXO
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