Missing

At the edge of town was a nondescript home built in the 1950s. The house needed paint but the owners put that task off. The neighbors saw old Mr. and Mrs. Worley every day in the garden, taking care of the lawn, and sitting outside on their porch during the summertime. Their dog, Jasper, a wired haired terrier, liked digging under their fence. It took all one summer to cement a barrier around their yard so their dog wouldn’t escape.

One day, Mr. Worley decided to put a storage shed in the back yard. Neighbors, peering over the fence, were more than happy to give him location tips.

---

An officer sat at his desk going over some recent burglary reports at the police station when the phone rang.

“Lieutenant Bancroft, here,” he said.

“I need to report a missing person,” the woman’s voice said.”

“All right, who am I talking to?”

“Martha Worley. It’s my husband. I can’t find him.”

“When did you see him last?” he asked.

“Oh, dear, I guess two days ago, or has it been a week. I have a hard time remembering,” she said.

“Okay, why don’t I come down to talk to you in person? Will you be home this afternoon?”

“Oh, yes. I never go anywhere, you see.”

“Good. Your address?”

She relayed her address and he said goodbye.

With his spare officer at the courthouse, he decided to see Mrs. Worley himself. “Most likely her husband ran off,” he thought.

When he arrived at the home, he saw an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. A dog lay near her feet. He gathered his radiophone and notebook before exiting his patrol car.

The officer walked up the sidewalk to the front steps. The woman looked surprised to see him. Her salt and pepper hair hung about her round face. She wore a flowered dress covered by a kitchen apron.

“Hello, ma’am. You called the police about your missing husband?” he asked.

A spark of recognition flashed across her face.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry, my memory isn’t so good. Won’t you come in?”

“You are Mrs. Worley?”

“Yes. “Come on Jasper,” she said, opening her front door. Her dog sat up and sniffed the officer’s shoes.

“Oh, he won’t hurt you,” she said as she allowed her dog inside first.

The officer followed her into a small living room. He noted the furniture seemed dated and worn in front of the glowing fireplace. A miniature grandfather clock chimed in the corner. Jasper gnawed on a chew stick in the center of the rug.

“Please have a seat. Now, why are you here?” she asked.

“Your husband, Mrs. Worley?”

“Oh, yes, how silly of me. I’ll go get him.”

“No, you called because he’s missing. Is he missing?” the officer asked.

“Hmm, yes, I guess so. I haven’t seen him since the day before yesterday. Would you like something to drink?”

“No ma’am. What was the last thing you remembered him doing?”

“Oh, he was fussing with that barn out in the back yard. That other man made such a mess when they brought it in.”

“Barn ma’am?” the officer asked, writing in his notebook.

“It’s small, you know a shed. Oh, Jasper, what is that filthy thing doing in the house?” she said, turning her attention to the dog and his stick.

She rose off her chair and shooed the dog away. She grabbed the white chunk and threw it into the fireplace flames.

“This is what you have when you own a terrier. They are such scavengers. Now where were we?” she asked, returning to her chair.

After watching the dog lie down to stare at the fire, the officer asked another question.

“Do you own a car? Maybe he’s visiting relatives.”

“Yes, we have a car. It’s in the garage. Only John drives it since I can’t anymore. Most of our family is gone. They live fifty miles from here.”

“I see, may I look in your back yard?” he asked, standing.

“I suppose, why?” she asked, rising from her chair.

“To see if your husband left anything that could help us find him.”

“Very well, we can go through the kitchen,” she said, walking away.

The officer followed the woman out the back door. Jasper ran into the yard.

“Is that the shed, ma’am?”

“Yes, oh, there are the neighbors. Helooo,” she called out, waving her hand.

Officer Bancroft walked across the lawn. He wanted to speak to the neighbors.

“Are you investigating Mr. Worley’s disappearance?” the man asked, standing behind the five-foot fence.

“Yes, when was the last time you saw him?”

“Officer, he hasn’t been around for four years now. I feel sorry for her,” the neighbor said. His wife nodded.

“What do you think happened?” the officer asked.

“I think he left her, but it was odd.”

“What was odd?”

“Well, one day he was here digging out the foundation. I was gone a few days and when I returned the shed was in place. I never saw him again. And she does this every day,” he said, pointing to Mrs. Worley shoveling dirt over a hole.

“Land sakes, every morning I have to fill in his holes,” she said, pushing the loose dirt over the hole her dog dug.

Worried, the officer turned toward Mrs. Worley.

“Ma’am, I’m going to authorize a crew in here to keep your dog from digging. I would like the name of your nearest relative so I can check with them on your husband’s whereabouts.”

She wrung her hands. “Oh, do you have to? My daughter is quite busy with her children.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll have too.

She led him back into the house and handed him her address book. He copied the address and phone number into his notebook.

“Now remember, I’ll be back tomorrow with a crew. If I get ahold of your daughter, she will be coming,” he said.

“That would be wonderful. I haven’t seen her in a long time,” she said, smiling

He bid her goodbye. As soon as he entered his patrol car, he called the station and put in an order for more men and a warrant.

---

The next morning Officer Bancroft and four men drove to the woman’s home. One of the officers rode with him in his car.

“Do you think she did it?” Ben Johnson asked, buckling into the car seat.

“I don’t know. She seems to have dementia. That’s why I called her daughter last night. Her family should meet us there.”

When their two patrol cars pulled up to the home, they saw a silver suburban parked in the driveway.

Officer Bancroft pressed the doorbell and waited. A younger woman in her mid-forties answered the door wearing an apron.

“Yes? Oh, you must be Officer Bancroft. Please come inside. I’m Lorraine, her daughter,” she said, opening the door.

“Yes, ma’am. Here is a warrant. My men are in the back yard,” he said.

He followed Lorraine into the living room where many young and old people stood around the fireplace. Mrs. Worley rose from her chair.

“Who is it, dear?” she asked.

“Remember me, Mrs. Worley? Officer Bancroft. I just come to let you know my men are in your back yard.”

“Oh, of course. Look all of my family have come to visit. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he asked.

Lorraine walked me to the front door.

“I don’t know if the neighbors told you, but we haven’t seen John for over four years. My mother has been mentally going downhill for some time. It’s her memory. Do you really think my father is buried in the back yard?” she whispered.

“I don’t know ma’am. That’s what my men will find out. Did you get a sample from the fireplace this morning before it was lit?”

“Yes,” she said leading him into the kitchen. She reached inside the refrigerator and pulled two plastic bags from one of the compartments. “One is from the fireplace and the other is from Jasper’s bone. I do hope they aren’t father’s.”

“Yes, ma’am. I hope we can clear this up. I don’t want your mother to sit in jail until we figure this out.”

Officer Bancroft heard the back door open.

Here’s one of my men now, excuse me,” he said, heading back door.

“Hi, Jack. What did you find?” Bancroft asked as he opened the door.

“A body. I called forensics. He’ll be here in a few minutes. Make sure no one leaves,” Jack said.

“Right.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing your man. They found something?”

“I’m afraid so. Hand me a cup of coffee and I’ll join everyone in the living room,” he said, removing his jacket.

She poured him a cup and led him to join the other family members.

“Is something wrong, Lorraine. There’s an officer here,” Mrs. Worley said.

“He’s just visiting, Mom.”

Officer Bancroft located a seat near the picture window and set his cup on a nearby table.

---

Everyone had a good visit. The children, forewarned about their grandmother, were subdued. An hour later, the front doorbell rang. Lorraine rose to answer the door.

“I’ll get it, Mom.”

Lorraine opened the door and the man on the step asked for Officer Bancroft. The officer wrapped his jacket in his arms and bid everyone goodbye.

He met with the dark-suited man with Lorraine standing near them.

“So, what did you find?” he asked the suited man.

“I’ve examined the body and the wound on his skull is comparable to a backward fall. This was an accident. I called the people who delivered the shed and they said they didn’t see Mr. Worley at the time they installed the structure. So, they went ahead and set the shed in place. My guess they didn’t know he had fallen into the framework. That’s what I’ll put on my report. Something was missing, though.”

“Oh, what would that be?”

“An arm bone.”

Officer Bancroft nodded and walked the forensic officer to his patrol car.

---

“Now, Mom, don’t argue with me. You are coming home with us until we find you a nicer place to live,” Lorraine said.

“I’m perfectly fine right here. The house just needs a little fixing up and what about Jasper?” she asked.

“Well, it would take time before we can locate a place. Why don’t Jasper stay with us? I’ll stop by in a few days and see how you are doing. By that time we should have a lovely place near our home. You’d like me to visit you more often, wouldn’t you?” Lorraine asked. “In the meantime, I’ve let the neighbors know and they will come over and visit you. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, yes, I would love that. Why don’t you take Jasper now to get him used to your home?” her mother asked, clasping her hands together into her skirt.

---

Two days later, Officer Bancroft read over his reports from forensics. “And to think that dog was digging up the bones. How about that?” he muttered.

“What’d you say?” Jack asked, walking by his desk.

“I said—oh my God! Call forensics. Come with me,” Bancroft shouted, jumping from his chair.

After Jack dialed the forensics, he hurried after his boss into the patrol car.

“What?” Jack asked.

“We made the wrong assumptions. Did anyone check that shovel of Mrs. Worley’s?” he asked.

“Shovel? I don’t know. Just a minute, they’re calling back. I’ll ask.”

---

Lorraine and her husband found a suitable rest home for her mother not far from their house. She thought about the coming days how nice it would be to walk over and visit her mother more often. When they arrived at her mother’s home, they saw a police car parked along the curb. Officer Bancroft stood on the front lawn. Another officer rounded a corner of the house from the back yard.

Lorraine jumped out of her car and ran toward the officer. She thought the worst.

“What’s wrong? Is my mother all right?” she asked.

“You tell me. No one is answering the door.”

“Oh dear,” she said, fumbling with her purse.

She withdrew a key and inserted it into the doorknob. Once opened, they stood there and gasped.

“Where is all the furniture? Mom?” she called, racing from one empty room to the next.

The forensic officer came up behind Bancroft. “I can’t find the shovel,” he said. “But the car isn’t in the garage.”

Lorraine returned wiping her eyes. “I don’t understand. Where could she be? And where are her belongings?”

---

“Here’s your ticket to Italy, Mrs. Wortham. Have a nice trip,” the airline clerk said.

“Thank you. I know I will,” she said, marching toward the TSA line.

She passed through security without incident and found her airport gate.

A janitor pushed his cart by the agent’s desk. His container held all types of tools, a mop, a broom, and a shovel he found leaning next to the building outside.

Martha planned her escape for four years down to the last detail when she scheduled the thrift store to pick up all of her furniture. Her daughter taking Jasper for her was a stroke of good luck. “Too bad for John,” she hummed, entering the jetway into the plane.