Worth More Dead

her to do that. She had no sponsor or friend to go with her. There were six women and three men at the PWP meeting, and they spent the evening drinking coffee and eating the desserts some of the women brought. As far as anyone can recall, Cheryl didn’t make dates with any of the men who attended.
    She was very busy as always, still working two jobs. If Roland didn’t have the children when she worked at PJ’s, Isak Nelson was glad to sit with them. She had moved to within easy walking distance of where he lived. He still admired Cheryl, and he felt sorry for her after Roland left her. He was beginning to see that his hero had feet of clay.
    The Port Orchard Judo Academy folded; Roland no longer had a place to hold classes. Where Roland had always been available to his students before, now they were rarely able to reach him, either by phone or in person. It was as if Roland had closed down one phase of his life and stepped through a door with a whole new cast of characters.
     
    The weekend of October 15 and 16 was typical for autumn in the Northwest. The sun shone brightly, but the nights were growing chilly. The vine maples were turning bright coral, and the big leaf maples soft yellow. The University of Washington Huskies had a game on Saturday, but Roland Pitre was far more interested in Sunday’s NFL game at the Kingdome in Seattle. The Seahawks were playing the New Orleans Saints. He told everyone he was going to root for his hometown team: the Saints.
    Roland had a visitation with Bébé and André on that weekend. The 10-year-old Bébé got along well with Della’s children. She was too young to really understand that her father and mother had broken up, and Della was nice to her. André was only a year old and wasn’t aware of much of anything.
    Cheryl was relieved to have Roland babysit with their children that weekend. She was scheduled to work on Saturday night until eleven, and then she had to start the Sunday day shift by seven. She wouldn’t have to worry about the kids. If they weren’t with Roland, he would pay Della’s daughter to babysit them. He told her he planned to take Bébé and Amy roller-skating on Saturday afternoon.
    Although it made Cheryl sad to see her husband with another woman, she agreed to have Roland pick up Bébé and André and take them to Della’s house on Friday evening, promising to pick them up after she finished work at PJ’s on Sunday afternoon.
    Cheryl worked until eleven Saturday night. A number of regular customers would remember chatting with her as she rang up their groceries. She sat in her usual spot, on a stool near the door. She had also talked with a young college woman, Nita Soames,* who was temporarily staying in her father’s apartment. The small unit shared space with the market, and its entry door was close to where Cheryl sat. Nita could sit on her couch and chat comfortably with Cheryl. She had come home shortly after ten, and she told Cheryl she was moving into a new apartment but didn’t have much furniture.
    “I have some things you could use,” Cheryl offered. “I’ll bring them to work with me tomorrow morning.” That was like Cheryl; she went out of her way to help people. She liked Nita.
    Nothing untoward happened at PJ’s that evening. As far as anyone could remember, Cheryl was dressed in her usual blue jeans, a blouse or a T-shirt, and she seemed to be in a good mood. She complained a little that she was going to have to “sleep fast” as she’d barely have time to get home, sleep, and come back to the store early the next morning.
    After she totaled the day’s sales, Cheryl put the receipts into the safe and called her boss. Nita locked the door on the east side of the building behind her. Cheryl drove off in her silver Topaz. Sometimes she stopped at the Subway sandwich shop to buy something for a late supper, but later, no one recalled if she had or not. The guy at the counter was new and didn’t know her.
    Nita recalled that Cheryl certainly hadn’t mentioned any plans to meet someone after work. “If she had a date, she would have told me.”
    Because it was late as she headed home and Cheryl’s neighbors were either out or asleep, there were no witnesses who could say if she had actually arrived at her little house safely.
    And Cheryl Pitre would be gone a long time before anyone ever saw her again.

8
    Roland Pitre had no particular reason to check on his estranged wife. He was living with Della Roslyn. As far