Island of Bones(41)

“Yeah. I caught her wagging her ass in front of my third husband Larry. Like the poor man could help himself with something like that prancing around every day in that little bitty place we had.”

Louis fought to keep his expression neutral. “Did she stay in Matlacha after that? Even for a while?”

“Have you ever been to Matlacha, young man?”

“Been through it.”

“Exactly. It’s a place you go through and keep going. I grew up there. I had Cindy at sixteen, and it was just her and me.”

And all the uncles passing through, Louis thought.

“Did she have a boyfriend she might have gone to?” he asked.

“Probably. I was waitressing at the Snook Inn and sometimes she helped out there. Lots of guys passed through there -- tourists, fisherman, locals. She could have hooked up with one of them.”

“What about her father? Could she have gone to him?”

Nancy Buckle gave a harsh laugh. “You kidding me? She never knew him. I told you, I was sixteen. Boys leave. They don’t hang around once they fuck up your life.”

The sun was suddenly very hot on his neck. He drew a thin breath and went on. “Did she take anything with her when she left?”

“She had nothing to take except some old shorts and T- shirts, and I certainly can’t tell you if she took any of them. I only know I threw a lot of shit out later.”

“Nothing personal? Jewelry?”

“You want to know how screwy this girl was? She took her damn sock monkey.”

“A stuffed monkey?”

“Yeah. Some old raggedy thing her grandma made for her before she croaked.”

Louis took a step back, suddenly anxious to get the hell out of here. Nancy Buckle watched him, the humidity starting to melt her makeup.

“If you see her,” Nancy said, fanning herself, “don’t tell her where we are now. Tell her I’m dead or something.”

Louis stared at her.

“I don’t want her coming around here, you know?”





Louis picked up the next folder off the car seat. Paula Berkowitz. Disappeared in 1965. She had been twenty, but still living at home with her parents on Pine Island. She had worked as a checkout girl at the Winn-Dixie on Stringfellow Road. Her parents reported her missing on a Sunday morning in July after they discovered an open window and untouched bed in her bedroom. The only thing missing, besides Paula Berkowitz, was one small suitcase.

The Lee County Sheriff’s office, which had taken the call, had chalked it up as a runaway. Louis could tell that much from the paucity of information in the old report. The parents had insisted their daughter would never run off, but Louis knew what the police did -- that kids often did things mothers and fathers never saw coming.

He rechecked the address he had for Clara and Ed Berkowitz. Lucky for him, they were still living in the same house after twenty-two years. He pulled up to the neat bungalow and cut the engine. As with Nancy Buckle, he was counting on catching the Berkowitzes off-guard. People had a way of saying things they didn’t intend to if you caught them unprepared.

He rang the bell. A moment later, the door opened and a woman of about sixty answered the door. She was small, with a neat nest of gray hair, and blue-gray eyes, which looked out at Louis suspiciously.

“Mrs. Berkowitz?”

She nodded, half hiding behind the door.

“I’m an investigator working for the Fort Myers police,” Louis said. “I would like to talk to you about your daughter Paula.”

“Paula was not my daughter,” she said. “My name is Ruth. Paula was my niece. I was married to her father’s brother, Harvey.”

“Are her parents home?” Louis asked.

“They’re gone,” she said. “Passed in eighty-one and eighty- three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They left us this house,” Ruth said. “My husband, Harvey, passed in eighty-five. I live here alone.”

Louis didn’t say anything, disappointed. Ruth Berkowitz pushed open the screen. “It’s awfully warm today. Why don’t you come inside?”

Louis stepped in, grateful for the cooler air. He pulled out his notebook.

“Would you like to sit down?” Ruth Berkowitz asked. “I was about to have an iced tea and I can make one for you.”

Louis hesitated, looking at Mrs. Berkowitz’s eager face. It was plain that the woman wanted some company. “That would be nice, thank you,” Louis said.

He followed her into the small living room. It was done in bright blues with dozens of pieces of old blue and white china hung on the walls and lining shelves. A blue parakeet was chirping in its cage by the window. Mrs. Berkowitz disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two tumblers of iced tea. Louis took his glass and thanked her. The tea had a sprig of fresh mint in it.