The Vanishing Girls by Callie Browning (great novels of all time .txt) 📗

Paul have medical expertise, but an eye witness had connected Paul’s car to his cousin's disappearance. She rifled through the telephone directory after Holden left, but neither of the listings for Paul's home or funeral parlour matched the other numbers on the photocopied classifieds she kept in her handbag. Despite that small snag, she knew that it had to be him.

Eileen was still pondering the situation an hour later at the picnic table under the tree when Clifford sat across from her. Unlike Eileen, Clifford ate outside every day, claiming that Barbadian weather was perfect whether it rained or not. But that afternoon was particularly nice: a light blue sky and fluffy clouds perfect for outdoor lounging, even if one did work at a funeral parlour.

He straddled the wooden planks with surprising grace, and popped the lid off his homemade pudding and souse. Eileen stared at the little hairs on the flap of the pig’s ears and the mound of brown pudding swimming in pickled cucumber juice. She could never stomach that particular Saturday tradition and it showed on her face.

Clifford laughed as he plucked an ear out of the bowl and chewed it. “You don’t like souse, little starling?”

“Not really,” she said disdainfully as she put away her half-eaten lunch and picked back up her book.

Clifford chuckled and peeked at the cover. “‘Little Women’? First time you reading that?”

“No, but sometimes I check it out from the library and re-read it.”

Clifford nodded and pulled out a pig foot. “You ever read 1984 by George Orwell?”

Eileen shook her head.

“Well, you’re only a year late so you could still read it,” he said, winking at her.

She giggled. “What’s it about?”

“Dystopian novel ‘bout a world under too much government control. Good book.”

Eileen nodded, not sure if she should ask what ‘dystopian’ meant. Clifford side-eyed her, his eyes dancing as he said, “‘Dystopian just means gloomy fiction. That’s all, little starling.”

Eileen smiled. “Are you saying starling or darling?”

“Starling. It’s a bird.”

“Oh…is that a good thing?”

“Them real smart. Could talk better than parrots, even. Pretty feathers too. I had one.”

“Really? I’d like to see them. Do they live in the gullies?”

“Them ain’t from ‘bout here; you find them in Europe, Asia... those kinds of places.”

“How did you get one?”

“Used to live in Europe. You think I was always uncultured swine like this pig?” he asked, flapping a half-eaten pig ear at her. He laughed at the look on her face.

She had to admit that Clifford’s laid back style and attitude weren’t the only clues that founded her assumptions. He spoke roughly and his lunches usually looked like the dregs of something a cat coughed up.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Did you like it there?”

“In a way. Didn’t get to see much of anything ‘cause I was always working or studying. I was almost a doctor, just didn’t do the last exam.”

This time the look of shock on Eileen’s face was much harder to hide. She peered at him, searching for the distinguished features that people usually associate with doctors. Instead, she saw the weathered face of a man who wouldn’t ask much of life if it didn’t ask much of him. The questions piled up inside her head, questions that Clifford knew she would ask.

He nodded, his face smug. “Probably wondering what I’m doing here, helping young Davis dress up duppies and sweeping the yard, nuh?”

“W-well… it’s honest work.”

“You full of shite, Eileen. Just talk straight.” His eyes were serious for a moment before he pressed the cover back on his container and stared at it for a moment before he spoke. “Life in those places as a doctor wasn’t for me. I tried too hard to fit in and the drugs didn’t help. Lucky for me, I came back home and hit rock bottom. I say lucky because it had to happen for me to realize I only want to be myself at the end of the day.”

Eileen bit her lip. It took real courage to strip oneself down like that. It made her admire Clifford even more.

“This is a step down from doctoring, but I still get to deal with anatomy - that’s a fancy word for bodies in case you didn’t know.” He grinned at her. “Holden Senior hired me and I’ve been here ever since. I get the weekends to deal with my little farm and I like it here with young Davis.”

“So you’ve known the family for a long time,” Eileen said carefully.

“Well… as long as anybody could.” Clifford watched Eileen with interest. “Why do you ask?”

“The brothers are just so different, you know?” She shrugged, not entirely sure how to explain what she wanted to say. “But I guess even though they don't get along that they still love each other.”

“Ah.” He stared back at her with knowing eyes. “Sometimes love is more about duty than affection. Even though young Davis resents his brother, that doesn’t mean he won’t do the right thing. No matter what the right thing might be.”

Eileen scratched her head. She could only hope Clifford was right.

Chapter 21

Complications

Holden looked up at the building and flexed his fingers against the chill of the night air. The taxi had left him in the gravel courtyard that surrounded Eileen’s apartment building and now Holden stared at it with his heart in his throat. Five minutes had passed since he'd arrived, and he'd considered leaving more than once. He had seen how headstrong Eileen had become about finding the Cane Slasher. In others, her focus would be considered obsessive; in Eileen, it was just one example of how determined she was about everything she did. But her theory about Paul had forced Holden into an untenable position. He knew that this might be his only chance to fix things before Eileen went off on a tangent and did something that couldn't be undone.

Holden took his time going up the stairs, his mind whirling as he walked to the threshold. He rapped on the door twice. Shuffling footsteps