The Dead Don't Get Out Much. Mary Jane Maffini
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Patton. We don't know about the people in her life, not then, not now. And when we met her, there was no one. Not a relative, not a single friend. Right?”
I had to agree.
“See? We have no idea. These letters might tell us.”
“Fine. We'll read the letters from her friends.”
Alvin seemed satisfied with that. He was already riffling through the letters at high speed.
“You sort,” I said, picking up the phone and dialling. “I'll call Conn and try to get some action going.”
Alvin said, “Don't consider this squabbling—maybe you shouldn't tell him that you got the message from her saying that she's all right.”
“Good point. I might forget to mention it.”
“Hey look, this letter's from her husband. Captain Walter Parnell.” Alvin whipped the letter out of the envelope.
“Not that one,” I said, stopping mid-dial.
Conn, of course, was not at his desk. I left a message, not too snippy, and rejoined Alvin for damage control.
Somewhere in Italy,
October 5, 1943
Darling Vi,
Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. I would be much easier in my mind if you would confine yourself to tamer activities. I have enough on my mind without imagining you in an upturned truck, pinned down by enemy fire. Of course, I have known you all my life, so I realize you are not the kind of girl to stay home and knit socks. That reminds me, Hazel sent me a pair of socks that gave me blisters and a box of fudge that was just like cement. Heaven help her husband, if she ever finds one.
Things are going as well as they can be here, given the circumstances. Can't complain. A lot of fine fellows haven't made it this far. I saw Perce when we were on leave. Sure wish it could have been you, instead. That fella sure has a way with the ladies. The English girls think he is the limit. Everyone loves a flyboy. They are all crazy about dancing, and he is something to watch on the dance floor. I can't imagine how we'll get him back home when this damn war's over. I imagine he'll set the world on fire. He's always been a lucky dog. You can keep the adventures, I think I might have seen more than enough of the world. I am looking forward to dancing with my own gal when we're together. I know you love to jitterbug, but I keep remembering those waltzes.
If I get back in one piece, I plan to stay on the ground. I got a letter from my Uncle Fred. He's promised me a place in his firm when I return. I am thinking I would like to try my hand at university, anyway. The government is promising to help out with education afterwards. I'd like your opinion on this, as it would mean a longer wait before we could be married. I sure don't want to wait much longer! Of course, we can keep dancing, even if it's just in our memories now.
With all my heart,
Your Harry
Six
Not that one,” I said.
“I'm just saying, Camilla. Calm yourself.”
“What else have you got?”
“Fine. Here's one from friends. Some from a Miss Betty Connaught, some from Miss Hazel Fellows. They all have Xs and Os on the envelopes. I found a lot from Captain Walter Parnell. Some say Major Parnell. I wonder why she doesn't talk about him much. I think she really loved him a lot.”
“He's dead, Alvin. She probably has just compartmentalized those memories because they're painful.”
Alvin's head jerked. “Like you did with your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he died in the war?”
“No, it was later. I know that.”
“You don't suppose…?”
“Suppose what, Alvin? You can make a person crazy.” I hate the wounded look he gets on his face. “Okay, I'm sorry,” I said.
Alvin said, “I wanted to say, since she's talking about dead men, maybe her husband was the guy she was talking about? He was important, and he's dead.”
“I don't think so. She would have said ‘my husband’.”
“Okay, look, here's another guy writing to her. Harrison Jones. Way to go, Violet.”
“We'll stick with the girls, Alvin. Hang on, I have to answer the phone.”
* * *
Conn McCracken uttered a small yet accusatory sigh. He said, “I do care about the situation. Be reasonable. It takes awhile.”
“It's serious. I think you should turn up the burner.”
“Do you have to be such a pain in the ass about everything? We are taking it seriously, even though we're out on a limb because we don't have medical confirmation that Mrs. Parnell is not perfectly capable of making an informed decision about where to travel.”
“I told you she might go into full cardiac arrest, and did I mention she had troubles with a dead man?”
“Yeah, yeah. And you never exaggerate.”
“I'm not exaggerating this time.”
“No family member has contacted the police…”
“She doesn't have any family, you know that perfectly well. Alvin and I are like her family.”
“Nor do we have a doctor indicating that something's wrong.”
“You want a doctor to confirm it? I'll get you a doctor.”
“Listen. This takes time. We have to contact the airlines one by one and ask them if she was on the flight. Usually the airlines cooperate, but there are issues.”
“We're stuck here, Conn. We can't go any further without a clue about where she went.”
“Frankly, I'm out on a limb Camilla, because I don't know for sure anything is really wrong with Mrs. Parnell.”
“Well, I do. And Alvin does. We saw her. We heard her. Something is very wrong with our friend. Just because we don't know exactly what the problem is doesn't make it any less real.”
“I understand, and that's why I'm doing what you ask. I'm helping you. I have a pretty good idea what she means to you and what she's done for you. So try not to piss me off. Just this once.”
“How many airlines did you talk to?”
“Even though I have a full load of work, I personally contacted every airline that had a flight out of Ottawa last night.”
“And?”
“So far, no luck.”
“She wasn't on a flight?”
“Not so far. One of the airlines had a computer snag, and I'm waiting to hear back.”
“Oh.”
“When I hear, you'll hear. Count on it. Three or four hours.”
“Thanks, Conn. I do know this was a big imposition.”
Fine. Hang up. See if I care.
Dr. Hasheem was unavailable when I contacted the hospital. I left a message on his voicemail asking if plane trips to unknown destinations would be harmful to Mrs. Parnell. Like I didn't know the answer to that.
* * *
Alvin grinned in triumph when I put down the phone.
I met his grin with a frown. “No luck with the flight information.”
“I've been lucky with the girlfriends’ letters,” Alvin said. “I don't think we have a big problem with private secrets or anything.”
He