V Is for Vengeance

I worked like a dog all my life and there were things I wanted to do while I still had my health.”
    “How’d the two of you meet?”
    “There’s a bar in my neighborhood; a Cheers type of place, like the television show. She was there one night and so was I.”
    “You were introduced by friends?”
    “Not really. We struck up a conversation. I’m a widower. My wife died a year ago and I was at loose ends. My girls were scandalized when I took up with Audrey, which is a laugh and a half. I had to remind them what I put up with when they were young. They’d be out until all hours, coming in drunk. The guys they dated were losers—scruffy and unemployed. Not that they stuck around for long. There was a constant turnover of bozos. I told ’em they had no business getting on my case.
    “Audrey’s the first woman I dated since their mother died. The only woman, I might add. Margaret was the love of my life, but she’s dead now and I’m not. I’m not going to be a recluse just to satisfy the girls’ sudden sense of decorum. To hell with that. I’m sure Sabrina gave you an earful.”
    “She told me you couldn’t find contact numbers for Audrey’s two kids. Have they been in touch?”
    “No, and I’m sick about it. I went through everything—desk, chest of drawers, overnight bag. No address book, no letters, or any other reference to them.”
    “What about the house in San Luis Obispo? Maybe she kept her address book there.”
    “Possibly. I should probably drive up, but I’m chicken. I’ve never even seen the place and I can’t walk in when I don’t know what to expect.”
    “Right. For all you know, she has a husband and kids.”
    “Jeez. Don’t say that.”
    “I was being a smart-ass. Don’t listen to me,” I said. “What about her background? Did she talk at all about where she was from?”
    “Chicago originally, but she’d lived all over the place.”
    “Have you tried directory assistance in the Chicago area?”
    “Big waste of time. I gave it a try, but there are hundreds of people with the last name Vance. I don’t know if she was talking about the city itself or a suburb. Her parents were dead. This was years ago, I guess. She told me her kids worked in San Francisco, which I had no reason to doubt. She said her daughter was married. I don’t know if she kept her maiden name or took his. There isn’t a Don Vance in the book, but maybe his number’s unlisted. Doesn’t mean he isn’t there.”
    “What about her past? Most people tell stories. She might have dropped bits and pieces that would help you work your way back.”
    “She didn’t talk about herself. She didn’t like to be the center of attention. At the time, it didn’t seem important. I just figured she was shy.”
    “Shy? The obituary said she was ‘fun-loving and vivacious.’”
    “She was. Everybody loved her. She was interested in other people. You turn the subject back on her and she’d blow you off, like her life wasn’t worth talking about.”
    “So in essence, you know nothing.”
    “Well, yeah, and how embarrassing is that? You think you’re close and then something like this comes up. Turns out you don’t know shit.”
    “If you know so little about her, what makes you so sure she didn’t kill herself? Maybe she was mentally ill. She might have spent the last two years in a looney bin. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t talk about herself.”
    “No. Absolutely not. She wasn’t nuts and she wasn’t depressed. Far from it. She had a sunny disposition. No mood swings, no PMS, no temper. Nothing like that. And she wasn’t on medication. A baby aspirin a day, but that’s about it,” he said. “You’d think the cops would be all over the case.”
    “Trust me, they are. They’re just not sharing anything with you.”
    “Tell me about it. I mean, shit. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
    “Go back to the police.”
    “Another big waste of time. I tried and got zip. I was hoping you’d talk to them. They’d treat you like a professional. I’m just a close personal friend with an ax to grind.”
    “Maybe so,” I said.
    “So let’s say I hire you, then what?”
    “Doesn’t that seem like a conflict of interest when I was responsible for her arrest? You’d think I’d be the last person in the world you’d hire to do anything.”
    “But at least you were there and know part of the story. I’d hate to have to sit down and explain it all to someone else. Besides,