Crime Time

Betsy gently roused me from my nap for a late dinner. Molly was already bedded down for the night. My wife looked concerned as she dished out homemade chili and corn bread.

"Julie called to talk to her daughter but after she spoke to Molly we talked. Howie is a mess over what that relative told him about his sister. He's desperate to ask Martha about the details of Annie's death but she, Quinn and Claire haven't reported in. I'm worried."

"She should have arrived hours ago," I said as I poured honey on my corn bread. "I can't imagine them missing her Aunt Rose Abbott's service or at least calling in with their status. Martha flew out there for the express purpose of attending the funeral. It's not like her."

"Julie wants desperately to come back east but Howie wants to talk to Martha and learn the truth before he leaves. He won't make plane reservations until he speaks to her. Julie is frightened for him, and plain scared."

"You don't suppose Martha and Quinn went into hiding, do you?"

"God; they wouldn't do that, not without telling us!" Betsy said, alarm in her voice.

"How did Martha react when you told her I'd been attacked?"

"She was frightened out of her wits, like the rest of us but it's not like her to just drop out of sight, unless Quinn talked her into it." My wife got up from the table. "I'm going over to their house." I put down my knife to join her. "No, you stay here with Molly. You're in no condition to run around town. Go to bed. I'll not be long. I just want to see if Martha left me a note or if there's any hint to what's going on."

"Betsy, it's after ten . . ." I protested.

"I won't take long," she said and was out the door.

There was no way I was going to bed. I picked up the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen before sinking into my easy chair in the living room. The more I thought about it, the more I felt Quinn, Martha and baby Claire might be gone. While only days ago I wouldn't have believed they would so summarily vanish, events recently would have frightened them, especially Martha with baby Claire to care for, to the core. Perhaps it was best; hadn't Betsy and I made a similar decision to stop our activities only hours earlier? Hadn't we decided to toss in the towel? Perhaps Quinn and Martha preempted us.

After taking another pill, I closed my eyes when my cell phone rang. It displayed Quinn and Martha's number. It was my wife and she was in tears. "They're gone, Ben. They're gone for good. Martha left a note.