By Susan Lyttek
Aba was gone.
I massaged my temples to clear my thoughts. He’d be back in a week from the old country after clearing up some marriage paperwork. I had to keep busy.
I picked up my purse to leave when a man stumbled in.
He was as unkempt and golden as my Aba was groomed and dark. His long, greasy tresses draped across his shoulders. His clothes, ripped and dirty, barely hung on his gaunt frame.
“Detective Spade,” he slurred.
I wrinkled my nose. He stunk of sour sweat and decay. I backed up so fast that my legs hit the front of the desk. Ouch. That would bruise.
“Yes?” I choked. “What can I do for you?” Why wasn’t Dod in the office for this one?
He pulled at his pockets. Wads of paper fell to the floor. He squatted to rake them up, sorting through them like a squirrel looking for a prized nut. Discovering his treasure, he held it out to me. “Find my family.”
The piece of paper contained drawings of a big circle and assorted upside-down triangles hanging from fluffy bunnies. What was this? A map drawn by a kindergartener? At the bottom, scrawled in red, were the words: one mile through morning valley. Nonsense.
“What is this?”
“It’s where they’re waiting.” He pushed some crumpled money my way. “I can pay.”
He stared at the map in front of me like it held the key to world hunger. At least, maybe, the key to his. Loss was something I understood.
First, the smells had to go. I checked the time. Twenty-four to four. Dod would be in his apartment upstairs.
“I’ll help. After you get cleaned up.”
Dod ushered him to the shower and found some clothes. While not a perfect fit, they were clean.
Afterward, the three of us met in my office. I talked while Dod smoothed out the money.
“You can’t remember where your family is?”
He poked at his prize paper. “Here.”
I pushed his finger away. “But where is ‘here’?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Not far?”
Dod intervened. “Let’s start with the basics. Your name. Profession. Hometown.”
He picked up the map. “I’m Martin. I make music.”
Dod moved to stand behind him. “Go on.”
Martin nodded. “I had to drive to get something. My…” He rubbed his eyes. “My baby needed…”
“Needed what?”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
I started to speak, but Dod waved a hand behind his back using our signal for patience.
“There was light and noise. I followed a cloud into the city… I have to get back.” He tightened his grip on the chair, his nails doubtless leaving holes in the leather. “I promised.”
Dod, who’d always called me in for hysterical females, seemed to do okay with this male nutcase. “Let’s go back to my apartment. My wife’ll make you tea and a sandwich.”
“But…” Martin protested.
Dod patted his shoulder. “You’ve done well. Rest. You’ll remember. Meanwhile, my daughter and I will investigate.”
He ushered the guy out. When he came back, I unraveled. “What do you mean, we’ll investigate? Investigate what?”
Dod rolled his eyes. “Samara, I trained you better. We’ll look at accident reports. He couldn’t have crashed too far from here.”
“Crashed?”
My father picked up the drawing Martin left, studying it. “Honestly, has romance dulled your perception? He had a big bruise on his forehead. He mentioned noise and light. Obviously, he hit something.”
I swiped the paper out of his hand. “But this craziness! A big blue circle surrounded by upside down mountains…”
He smirked. “Good girl. The wheels are starting to turn.”
He phoned his connection and got a list of accident reports.
“Are we looking at hit and runs?”
He nodded. “Or abandoned cars.”
I skimmed his shorthand. “We’re sticking to the north side? Near the mountains?”
He clapped my shoulder. “My detective is back.”
Three reports had potential. One was in the shadow of a mountain, but nowhere near a body of water. Another was in the country almost twenty miles out. The last one, though, was less than five miles away.
I took our local atlas off the shelf and opened to that region. It was down the road from Million Year Lake, and one of the streets going into its camping area was called Morning Valley Lane.
“Let’s get Martin.”
Driving out, our client relaxed. “You’ve found them?”
“Hopefully.” I pointed over his shoulder from my seat in the back. “If you see anything that sparks a memory, tell us.”
He nodded.
On the exit ramp, he nearly smashed his nose into the window. “I’ve been here.”
“Good.” Dod kept driving. Two more turns of the wheel and we saw an ancient, crumpled, once-white minivan leaning into a ditch.
“That’s ours,” Martin whispered. “They’re close.” We continued into the campground, around the backside of the lake where the mountains stood reflected in the lake’s surface.
Martin rushed to meet his family—a woman and baby followed by a toddler—and wrapped them in his arms. “Detectives, this my wife, Emma.”
“It’s been so long since he left,” Emma cried, thanking us. “The campground was deserted. I couldn’t leave the kids, and I didn’t know what happened.”
As Martin kissed all three, the curtain rose in his eyes.
“I’d been in a such a hurry to get some fever reducer for my daughter.” He held his tiny little bundle to his chest. “Then an eagle danced in front of my car. Mystified, I watched it fly through the cloud, then I spun out of control. I’m so sorry…”
Emma leaned into him. “It’s okay, love. We’d been up all night with the baby. You were exhausted.”
Martin thanked Dod and tried to hand over the bills to pay him. Dod closed the man’s fist and pushed it back. “Keep it. Repair your car. Take care of your kids.”
I wasn’t the only romantic in the family.
Can you guess which song inspired this story? (This month it could be any time period, any genre.) Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
When it was 70s month, I goofed and wrote an 80s inspired story. To rectify that, this open mike is most definitely prompted by a 70s song! So there’s your hint.
As with other Samara Spade stories, there is a chance to win a copy of my most recent mystery, A Wedding to Die For. Rather than the first to identify the song, it will be awarded to a random person who comments between now and Christmas. In addition, there’s a bonus Samara Spade story on my website today and that has its own unique chance to win a book. Have fun and enjoy!
Yay for the Spade family!
Thanks!
I loved this! What a sweet and encouraging story. so many feels!!
Thank you so much!
Sorry for the holiday-inspired delay, but you are the random comment winner! If you would like a free copy of A Wedding to Die for mailed to you, please email me at slyttek@yahoo.com.
I like the more laid back feel of this one.
Thank you!
Fun story, happy ending. Nice work!
Thanks so much. I had fun with it! I could hear the opening guitar riff the whole time I was writing it…
Lovely installment in the Samara Spade series, Susan!