Page 58 of The Last to Vanish
The first thing I heard on the recording was laughter in the background. A clattering of glasses, the sound of distant chatter. And then:Can I get you another?A man’s voice, deep and measured.
That’d be great.Landon’s voice then, closer to the microphone.
Want to open a tab?
Paying cash. Hey, Ray was it?
Mmm.I heard the sound of a glass being pushed across a surface. I could imagine it perfectly: Landon West, sitting at the bar of the Last Stop Tavern, speaking with Ray across the bar top. But this didn’t sound like an interview. It didn’t sound like Ray knew he was being recorded at all.
That picture, Landon continued,that’s the famous Fraternity Four everyone talks about?
That’s them.
I smiled slightly, hearing Ray’s terse replies. Poor Landon West, didn’t realize he’d picked the one person in the bar least likely to give him any information. There would be no gossip spilled, no rumors shared. He’d be lucky if he got more than a two-word response.
Who took that picture?
Pardon?
I mean, how did that picture get in your possession. Someone must’ve taken it, right?
Disposable camera. One of them brought it with him. Must’ve asked someone in the tavern to go out and take it for them. They left the camera behind.
And this was the only thing on it?
Yep. Don’t see they had much chance to take any others.
I could picture Ray pacing behind the bar, to another guest, another visitor.
Did you work here then?Landon’s voice again, and I imagined Ray passing by him. I imagined the tight, stoic expression on his face.
Yeah, this was my parents’ place.
Must’ve been a crazy time. What, were you around their age then, too? What was that like?
I’m afraid I don’t have much gossip for you. I had a toddler then. Was pretty busy with him.A pause, a sudden crack, as if a palm had slapped the surface of the bar.Your receipt, sir.
The recording ended.
I sat back, taking it all in.
There were questions people asked often:Were you here for it? What was it like here? What do you think happened?
And then there were the less common ones, inquiries bordering on demands—the ones that had slipped my notice. That question—Who took that picture?—was one of them. For all thetimes I’d sat at that bar, staring up at their photo, that was one I hadn’t asked.
Did Landon West think the picture came from this mysterious fifth member?
Interview 3appeared less an interview at all, and more of an attempt at an interview.
Hi, I’m hoping to talk to Sheriff Stamer. Landon’s voice, slightly muffled, like it was coming through a layer of fabric. I pictured the phone in his pocket. All these people he was taping, without their knowledge.
Do you have an appointment?Rochelle rarely made me smile, but I appreciated the familiarity of her curt response, realizing her impatience wasn’t just directed my way.
No, I was hoping to find some information about the old cases here, for a book—
Sir, I can stop you right there. The sheriff isn’t going to talk to youfor a book.
What about for curiosity, then?
