A thousand suns

‘Sounds good. Here — ’ Chris tossed him the keys to the Cherokee.

Mark closed the door behind him, and Chris listened to the heavy sound of his feet down the hallway before firing up Explorer. He tapped in the address for NeighborSnoop, a handy, if somewhat shady, search engine he used to make use of all the time during his paparazzi days to track down the details of his latest quarry. He had a surname and a town; more than enough to flush out the phone numbers of anyone living there under the surname Grady.

Five minutes later, he had three phone numbers to call, and had decided, and quickly rehearsed, how he was going to handle them. The first number he dialled was engaged. The second answered after three rings.

‘Hello?’ a woman’s voice answered.

‘Hi, this may seem like a very odd call, it’s not a sales call, though, okay?’

‘Who is this?’

‘My name is — ’ it occurred for the very first time to Chris that it might be wise to start being a little bit more careful ‘- Jason Schwartz, I’m from the New England Fishermen’s Union. We arrange, from time to time, reunion gatherings for crews, and get-togethers from various social clubs. I’m trying to track down one of our members, his old crew are looking to meet up, you see… so I’m trying to get hold of Tom Grady. I was told he had family living out in New Buxton. But I’ve got no record of his current address see, so… there you go, hence the call.’

There was a pause as the lady absorbed Chris’s story, and in turn Chris held his breath in anticipation. It had sounded okay in practice, but just now it had sounded forced, as if read from a script. Chris reminded himself not to rehearse next time; busking this kind of thing always ended up sounding more natural.

‘Tom Grady? That’s a name I’ve not heard in a long, long time.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘Tom Grady was my uncle.’

‘Was? Oh dear, I’m sorry — ’

‘Oh, don’t be. I don’t know if he’s passed on, young man, I haven’t seen him in sixty years. I guess he probably must be dead by now. He moved out of state with his son. I guess that was… not long after the war. I think only a few days after the war, thinking about it.’

‘Oh… why do you think he moved away?’

‘I heard he came into some money, but I think that’s just hearsay. More likely he knew, with our boys coming home soon, that they would fill up the places on the trawlers once more, and he’d have trouble finding work any more. There’s not a lot else to do in Port Lawrence, other than fish, you know? I guess that’s still the way?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Fishing, and processing fish, that’s pretty much what we got over here,’ replied Chris, wary that he was exaggerating the drawl too much. He decided to try another angle — after all it was always his mum who was the one who bothered to write out and send the Christmas cards each year.

‘Did you ever hear from Mrs Grady?’

‘Oh, there was no Mrs Grady, Mr Schwartz. My aunt died some years earlier, before the war.’

Shit.

‘Well, I must say it is a surprise to have someone ask after Tom and his boy after so many years,’ she added after a moment or two.

‘You never heard from them again?’ Chris probed.

‘Well, thinking about it, yes. I think it was a year or so after they disappeared, we received a letter from Tom. He said that they’d moved to Florida, and he was working again and they were happier down there, and not to worry, that he would be in touch again when they had settled into a home.’

‘Do you have an address?’

‘No, not any more. I replied to his letter, but he never wrote again. I think they must have moved home once more and just… well, you know how it is with family. Sometimes they just give up on each other. Tom and I were never that close, not even when we all lived in Port Lawrence.’

Damn. This was feeling like a dead end.

‘Well, I’m sorry to hear about this. I’ll have to let Tom’s crewmates know he can’t be found. I do apologise for disturbing you.’

‘Not a problem, young man.’

He said goodbye and hung up.

The woman seemed, at least to some degree, to have confirmed McGuire’s little tale. That his childhood buddy, Sean, and his father had been gently hustled out of town… and probably with enough shut-up money for them to start over very nicely, thank you very much. And that, along with McGuire’s tale of navy ships at sea and the cove cordoned off with barbed wire and soldiers, that… and the fact that there were two Luftwaffe bodies lying off the coast of New England, inside a B-17 riddled with bullets. When it came to writing up the story, the old boy McGuire might well prove useful — he’d definitely get something out of it. But it was a shame he couldn’t track down this boy, Sean… an old man now, of course.

Chris decided following up on Sean Grady could wait until he was done with the diving up here. Then that was a line of enquiry he could pursue later on… just to add a bit more meat and gristle to the story.

Chapter 10

Contemplation