Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Frank opened the last box of Vera’s materials at Mrs. McAllister’s house. Until now everything else had dealt with Vera’s life before her death, but this final box contained the articles relating to the accident itself. He spread the papers on the floor and began reading.

Most of the articles weren’t helpful in finding out how Vera had died. He scanned an exposé on the city council’s failure to properly maintain the handrails around Crater Park. He skimmed over editorials on the tragic blow her death would deal to the community. He glanced at the almost endless letters to the editor mourning her loss. None of those could answer the question that brought him to Little Mesa.

A final scrap of newspaper in the box came from two months after her death and reported on the official results of the police investigation. The sheriff’s department, aided by the New Mexico State Police, ruled Vera’s death an accident. The night she had gone to the crater had been rainy and the handrails along that section had been scheduled for replacement because of rust.

The end of the article brought Frank his first real lead. A man named Roberto Jue had been the last to see Vera alive. He told the investigators that he and Vera had gone to the crater on an archeological expedition when it began to rain. As he neared the top of the crater, Jue heard Vera scream, but he couldn’t reach her in time. Medical examiners believed the fall had killed her instantly.

A paragraph near the end of the article reported that Roberto Jue worked for the Little Mesa Astronomical Society. Frank looked through Mrs. McAllister’s telephone book and dialed the number on his cell phone. When no one picked up on the fifth ring, a gravelly voice asked Frank to leave a message. He hung up instead and scanned the listings for Roberto Jue. The book listed no one with that last name.

He decided to write down the address for the Astronomical Society and visit the place in person. Before he left, he put everything back in its place and found Mrs. McAllister reading a tattered paperback in a gameroom packed with books. “Are you finished?” she asked.

“I think I’ve found everything I need.”

“I hope so. It’s been nice having someone around here, even for a little while. Since Vera’s death I get so few visitors. No one in this town has the proper appreciation for the printed word.”

“I guess not. Maybe if you found another helper. Someone young and with energy to spare.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“No. I don’t have much appreciation for the printed word either. Someone will turn up I’m sure.”

“You may be right Mr. Hemsky. If you’re ever in town again, feel free to stop by. If not to read, at least to keep me company.”

“I’ll do that.” Frank patted one of Mrs. McAllister’s wrinkled hands and then left her chaotic hall of records to search for Roberto Jue.

He found the Astronomical Society building near the railroad tracks on Pluto Avenue. Inside a windowless building he found a single man in a desert camouflage jacket and floppy hat. With his glasses and neat gray beard the man looked like a college professor. The name on his jacket read, ‘Herzog.’ “Can I help you?”

“My name is Frank Hemsky. I’m doing some research on Vera Swinton. Do you know where I could find Roberto Jue?”

“Roberto left us about five years ago.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address?”

“He didn’t believe much in addresses. He never liked to settle down anywhere.”

“You don’t have any idea where he went?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Something in Frank snapped as Herzog spoke. He had come all the way to Little Mesa to find out if Vera had committed suicide or not. He had looked through all the records and asked a bunch of people about her. Now the only person who had witnessed her death couldn’t be found. It couldn’t be true. Herzog had to be lying.

Frank lunged forward and pinned the man against a poster of a gray alien holding up two fingers for peace. “Don’t lie to me! You know where he is.”

“I swear I don’t. He just disappeared one day. He didn’t even leave a note behind. Please believe me.”

Frank let Herzog go and sagged onto a lawn chair. “I’m sorry.”

“You knew Vera?”

“You could say that.”

Herzog sat down next to him on another lawn chair. Frank looked around the room, taking in the posters with slogans about finding the truth. He supposed his search for the truth about Vera was just as foolhardy as the Astronomical Society looking for little green men. “Did you know Vera?” he asked Herzog.

“Only a little near the end. I came here after I retired from the geological service in California about a month before she died.”

“How did she get mixed up with Roberto?”

Herzog took a brochure from off a stack on a table in the middle of the room and gave it to Frank. The pamphlet described the Astronomical Society’s belief that Little Mesa was the original home for UFO activity in New Mexico. They believed that an alien ship had crashed, creating the massive crater. Ewen Marshall had invented the meteor story as a way of gaining attention for the town and himself. With proper funding and a digging permit the Astronomical Society could find proof of the alien crash landing.

“What’s any of this have to do with her?”

“Roberto thought she could help with the public relations.”

“Did she?”

“She didn’t get the chance. It’s too bad.”

“For her or for you?”

“For everyone. She was such a wonderful person. I think Roberto left because he thought he had killed her. The police didn’t agree, but he wasn’t the same after that happened.”

“So he just picked up and left?”

“We were discussing locations for the dig if we ever got the permit one night and the next morning he was gone. No one’s heard from him since.”

“I’m sorry to snap at you earlier. This just seems like one dead end after another.”

“I understand. I didn’t know Vera long, but she seemed like a wonderful person. So full of energy. She would have gotten us the permit that’s for certain.”

“I’m sure.” He shook Herzog’s hand and left the Little Mesa Astronomical Society. For a while Frank sat in his car and considered his next move. He had nothing. No leads at all. He may as well go back to Los Angeles.

He had made a promise to Anna to watch her play tonight though. He didn’t want to hurt her. She had enough pain in her life already. Having no father then losing her mother. Growing up under a cold, tyrannical aunt.

By all rights Anna should have become one of those black-wearing loners who wound up shooting her classmates. If the positions had been reversed he imagined that’s what he would have done. He would have turned all his pain against the world, but she hadn’t. She took after her mother in that way.

Maybe he should just lie and say he had found proof that it really was an accident. He could spin her some nice story so she could live happily ever after. Put the whole matter to rest by telling her a little white lie. Who would it hurt? Either way Vera was dead, so why make Anna suffer?

A beautiful young woman like Anna didn’t deserve to carry around such a terrible burden. She deserved the chance to feel happy and free, to live her life unencumbered by emotional baggage. If he could manage that by telling her a lie, why not do it?

Instead of going back to the Rio Rancho, he turned into the parking lot of a bar. He ordered a beer and found a seat in the darkest corner to ponder the situation alone. After two more beers he decided he would protect her because she had no one else who could. It was the least he could do for Vera.