It was a cold, dark, Friday morning in late November. As I sat down in my usual seat on the Coaster train to San Diego, my petite French train-mate Amie Dubois took a seat across from me. Her look was as dark as the morning, tinged with an uncharacteristic fear, so unlike her usual confident self.
“What’s up, Amie? You look so down today. Hey, it’s Friday. The weekend is upon us.”
Amie shook her head. “My Aunt Edith is missing. Dad’s older sister. Her mail has been piling up, and the postman wondered if something was wrong. They tried knocking on the door, but there was no answer. Her car was still in the garage, but there was no sign of her. One of her neighbors called late last night and left me a message. I dialed her back first thing this morning.”
“That sounds serious. Did they break in and check?”
“They looked in the windows and went around back. The house looks empty. No lights on at night. The doors were all locked. That’s when the neighbor dug up my number and called me. After I talked with her, I tried my aunt’s phone. No answer, and the message cache was full.”
“So, what are you doing on the train this morning?”
“I have a critical architect meeting this morning at 9 am on a huge new hi-rise in the Seaport Village area. French contractor. I am part translator and part project liaison. It won’t go on without me.”
“Could your roommate Shelly check on her?”
“This is her Friday off. She left early this morning on a camping trip with friends to the mountains. Won’t be back until Sunday.”
“Where does your Aunt live? Maybe I can have my dad send a sheriffs’ car by?”
“She lives in the old original part of Escondido. Wood frame, two-story, built in the late 1880s. She used to run a fortune teller business out of the original parlor. Always had a strained relationship with the Escondido police.”
“Darn, Escondido wouldn’t be my dad’s jurisdiction. The County Sheriff doesn’t cover that area. I’d be glad to help, but as usual, I don’t have a car or a driver’s license. Is there a train that goes there?”
“You can take the Sprinter Train out of the Oceanside Transit Center.”
“So, you mean I’d have to take the Coaster back all the way north to Oceanside and then take the Sprinter. That would take forever.”
“That’s it. The San Diego Trolley doesn’t go that far. Probably some kind of bus, but good luck with that.”
“So how long is your meeting this morning?”
“Probably a couple of hours. Out at eleven, most likely. But one of the contractors always wants to do lunch. I doubt I’d be able to catch the late morning train north.”
“So, you’re saying you won’t get home until late afternoon and have your car to be able to run to Escondido. If that’s the case, I’ll get off at the next stop or two and catch the first northbound train to Oceanside. I’ve got a quiet day at work so that I can work remotely. Give me her address, and I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“You’d do that for me? I don’t need you to go out of your way for someone you don’t know.”
“After all we’ve been through, you’re like family to me, Ms. DuBois. This situation sounds serious. I looked at the schedules on my phone. I can get back to Oceanside by 8:30 and then take the Sprinter to Escondido and arrive about 9:30. Got the backpack with me with some lock pick tools. Take me a few minutes to get in and check things out. What’s the neighbor’s name that called? I need to touch base with her before I go breaking in and having the cops show up and get dragged to jail.”
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