in his position it was wiser not to resist me, plus those double-paned windows are really expensive. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I swear to God, not since the crime scene. It was all over more than a year ago. Why?”
“I think Coleman’s been abducted.” There, I said it.
No oh my God, or what the fuck, just, “What makes you think that?”
I heard the voice in the background, less distinct this time. He had probably moved outside as we talked.
“Her car is here.”
“Oh for pete’s sake, she rented a car or flew somewhere,” Hughes said, and hung up.
Like I said, no friends. If that’s how Hughes responded, especially given current attitudes toward me, I wouldn’t get any more traction with Max Coyote or Roger Morrison. I was on my own.
Assuming she still had her maiden name I looked under the Cs in her address book and found Ben and Emily Coleman at the Paloma Vista Retirement Center, with an address and phone number.
Only I didn’t call the number directly. Not wanting to alarm her parents I called directory assistance instead and got the main number at the center, asked to speak with the manager.
“I’m calling to ask about one of your residents,” I said.
“I’m sorry. We don’t give out any information on our residents.”
“I’m a family member, and I’m just calling to inquire after Emily Coleman’s health.”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps you could call their number directly. We don’t give out any information on our residents.”
“Could you tell me whether their daughter has been there within the past three days?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t give out any information on our residents.”
“Is this a real person I’m talking to?”
“Yes, and we don’t give out any information on our residents.”
Why can’t anything be easy? I hung up, took the address book with me, and set out for Paloma Vista.
Forty
If Arizonans want Mexicans to stay out of the country, why do they give everything Spanish names? It kinda sends conflicting messages. Paloma Vista was a modest but lovely two-story structure with a barrel-tiled roof that stretched on both sides of a long circular drive. A small bus with the name of the center and the word FUN! painted big on the side was boarding a group of mostly women.
I pulled up behind it, got out of the car, and asked the group as a whole if anyone knew Ben and Emily Coleman. All of them did. One woman said they were having lunch in the dining room and then shook her head in a tsking fashion as if my question made her sad. Maybe the mom was feeling poorly after all. I walked through the automatic doors, past the reception desk where the young woman didn’t ask who I was, through a spacious sitting area where the upholstery on the chairs didn’t match the pillows didn’t match the rugs except in some existential way known only to a decorator, and beyond into the dining area. A maître d’ of sorts welcomed me and asked if I was there to visit someone.
“Ben and Emily Coleman,” I said.
He led me to a table set for four, where a couple sat who, I must confess, appeared to be not much older than me. Both as tall as Laura, even sitting down I could see that, lanky and with thick heads of gray hair. I approached cautiously, introduced myself as a friend of their daughter, and asked if I could join them for a moment though I saw they were still eating. I apologized for that.
“That’s all right. It’s just dessert,” Ben Coleman said as he gestured to the chair next to his wife. He also gestured to a young woman who hovered nearby. “May I get you a rice pudding?”
I thanked him for his hospitality, but no, and the young woman hovered away.
Emily had been staring straight ahead with a placid smile during our exchange. Now she turned her head in a regal sweep and smiled at me. “Laura?” she asked.
“No darling,” Ben said. “This is Brigid Quinn, a friend of Laura’s.”
I started to explain that my own parents were looking for a good retirement center, and that Laura had mentioned to me that Ben and Emily seemed very contented here at Paloma Vista. I wanted to come see for myself and ask them personally about their opinion of the living quarters, the food, and other services, before I made an appointment with the management for a formal tour.
“They’ve been extraordinary,” Ben said, as Emily, interest waning