Jeopardy in January

by Camilla Chafer

  First, I wanted to go home and hang up my new dress so it didn't get all wrinkled. Then I wanted to look more deeply into Bree's past. So many things didn't add up. First, her name as I knew her, and the name in the identity documents that didn't correspond. Then there were the gaping holes in her background and each of my friends having a different version of the story. It couldn't have been possible for everyone to have heard it wrong. That left only one logical explanation: Bree must have told everyone a different background history.

  That didn't make any sense to me. Wouldn't it have been a lot smarter to stick to one fake story? Or perhaps she never thought it would matter. If Meredith overheard her phone call correctly, Bree never planned to stick around long enough to care.

  I turned away from the direction of the police station and walked along the empty sidewalk, huddling into my coat, pulling my scarf up to my chin, and thinking about Bree's clashing stories. I believed her completely when she told me anything about herself. It never even once occurred to me that she might not have been telling the truth. Why should it? I'd already offered her the job; and she had nothing to gain by lying to me.

  I thought again about what Meredith said. Would Bree have made up another lie before leaving town? Perhaps she would say she was moving to be nearer her parents or because she had another job or maybe she just planned to travel. She could have left and said nothing at all, but simply disappeared as fast as she arrived. Knowing that she valued our friendship so little she felt compelled to tell me only lies hurt me deeply when I thought about it. If she were in any kind of trouble, I would have helped her without question.

  Another thought struck me. If she weren't in trouble, but actually were the trouble, would I still have helped her? I wasn't sure of the answer to that. Perhaps Bree wasn't sure either.

  I stopped and waved to Grace in the New Treasures gift shop. She was working on a new display of pretty trinkets and small housewares in the window. I always admired her displays, which she changed every couple of weeks. She liked her window dressing to reflect the seasons or display any whimsical ideas she had. Last week was all about new beginnings, a change from the month-long, red and gold Christmas theme beginning in December. This week featured items that were silvery blue and had lots of mirrors. I stepped closer to take a look. It was my mother's birthday soon and Grace always had something to suit any occasion. I glanced over the photo frames and the pretty, little jewelry boxes along with some gift packs of candles and cashmere socks. My mother would like the socks and candle gift box, I decided, so I straightened up to go to the door and step inside. Just as my hand connected with the door handle, I stopped and stepped back, re-examining the selection of photo frames.

  The couple smiling in the photos seemed strangely familiar. I stepped closer, stooping to look more intently. Yes! They were Bree's parents!

  "Hey, Sara," said Grace when I stepped inside. She looked up from the box she was unpacking, and polystyrene peanuts spilled onto the French dressing table she used as a desk. "I haven't seen you since your mom's Christmas party. I was just thinking about you when you walked past the shop. I heard what happened at the library to your assistant. It's so ghastly."

  "It really is," I agreed.

  Grace set the box aside. "Do the police know what happened yet? Someone said it was murder but that can't be, surely not?"

  I gave Grace a sympathetic nod and her eyes widened. "The police said Bree was shot," I told her solemnly.

  Grace clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh, poor Bree! How tragic. You hear of things like that happening in the city but never here. Plus, it's not like there's anything to steal at the library!"

  "Not unless you want to try your luck with that big, old grandfather clock."

  "I don't think that would be at the top of any thief’s list," said Grace. "With the situation so fresh still, I guess that means the library is closed indefinitely?"

  "Only for a couple of days," I said more confidently than I felt. "I'll open it up pretty soon. We won't close it permanently without a fight."

  "That's great news! I've been meaning to come in and browse through some of your books on antiques. I've been to the estate sales, seeking a few special items, as well as some others I want to sell and it would be great to know exactly what I'm looking at beyond the pretty and sparkly. Anyway, what can I help you with?"

  "I wanted to buy a gift for my mother but I saw that photo frame in the window and I wondered if you knew the people whose photograph was in it?"

  "The people?" Grace frowned. "I don't put anyone's photograph inside the frames. Which one did you mean?"

  I turned around, craning my head over toward the window display. "It's that one, I think," I said pointing to the large frame amid several smaller ones.

  Grace reached over and plucked the photo frame from the display. "These are new. They just came in this week. This one?" she asked, holding it up and turning it to face me.

  "Yes!" I pointed to the smiling couple. "That's the one. Who are they?"

  Grace turned the photo frame around and frowned. "No one special. Just some stock model picture that the manufacturer puts inside the frames."

  "Really?" I took the frame from her and studied it. I was sure it was definitely the same photo I'd seen on Bree's mantel several times, the one she claimed was of her parents. "I'm so silly," I said, recovering quickly before Grace thought I was acting strange. "I thought I recognized them. Of course, it's a stock photo. I should have known."

  "The frames come from the factory with the sample pictures inside all the time," said Grace. "I thought I saw my nephew in one just last week. The little boy looked exactly like him. Were you looking for a new frame for your mom?"

  "No, but I think I'll take it anyway," I said. I was sure Detective Logan would want to see it, and felt uncomfortable asking Grace for the insert. "I'll put in a new photo for my mother and get the socks and candle gift package too."

  "Busy shopping day?" Grace nodded at my shopping bag when she reached for the gift box and took both of my impromptu purchases to the register.

  I followed her, replying, "It wasn't intentional, but I have a date tomorrow night so I bought a new dress and while walking past here, I saw your new display, so I decided to buy my mother's birthday present too."

  "Your mother will love these. I know she always likes our scented candles. I'll gift wrap them both for you."

  I thanked Grace and paid her, taking the bag and waving as I left the store. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Unfortunately, the puzzle seemed to be growing bigger. I should have realized that photo was provided by the factory, and therefore, available for purchase by anyone. Bree must have bought the frames and simply left the stock photo inside. It appeared as though she had two parents to anyone who might have inquired about her family. I had to admit it was a good cover. I swallowed it, hook, line and sinker. I wondered if Detective Logan assumed they were her family too when he searched her apartment. If I hadn't walked past the gift shop and happened to notice, I would still have erroneously believed they were Bree’s real parents.

  Disappointment filled me as I embarked on the journey back to my house. Bree really did lie to me about everything. Was it because she was so ashamed of her past or because she didn't trust me? Did she trust anyone?

  By the time I reached home, I was no closer to an answer. I hung my dress in the bedroom, admiring it again, and smiling when I thought about Tom. At least I still had a date to look forward to, despite my fruitless search into Bree's past.

  Grabbing my laptop, I took it over to the kitchen table and opened it. While it powered up, I reached for the gift shop bag. Grace wrapped my mother's birthday gift beautifully but I pushed it to the side. Pulling out the flatter package, I tore off the gift wrap to reveal the photo frame. Opening the stand at the back, I set it in front of me on the counter and stared at it.

  Why would Bree make up fake parents? Was her past life so awful that she had to invent parents? Or were
they just another lie she could tell in case anyone asked? Anyone, like me.

  My laptop finally came to life. I navigated the mouse icon to the browser and clicked on it before I clicked on the search bar. I typed in Bree Shaw and waited for the results to appear in a long list. There were plenty of girls with that name but as I diligently clicked on each link, none of them were the Bree I knew. I searched through ten pages until the names were becoming less exact and I gave up.

  Next, I typed in her name along with the name of the bookshop that she gave me as a reference. Nothing came back in my search.

  I drummed my fingers on the counter, trying to decide my next keyword. Minutes later, I typed her name along with all the cities she ever mentioned. Not one of the returned results was Bree.

  Opening my cellphone, I brought up the photo I'd taken of Bree's driving license. Perhaps I would have better success with her other name. I copied Brittany Johnson into the search bar and clicked enter.

  A new set of results appeared and I repeated the process of clicking each link before I ended the search. But I was no better off than I had been an hour earlier.

  Perhaps I was being foolish in thinking I could investigate Bree's background. Detective Logan probably had a dozen or more programs he could search, including her fingerprints. He probably already knew Bree's back story was suspicious. Maybe he even knew her true identity.

  I checked my copy of her license as Brittany Johnson. I wondered if that were another alias!

  Regardless of all the lies she told, I couldn't shake the feeling that no matter what Bree said to me, we were friends. I was sure I'd spent more time with Bree than anyone else in town. We worked together and socialized occasionally. I brought her groceries when she was sick. She was the first one who encouraged me to start the petition to save the library. We made each other’s coffee and shared all the tasks around the library. We joked with each other often and commiserated over the drudges and high-fived our successes. That couldn't all have been an act! I really liked Bree. Even though now I was finding out she was a different person – a very different person — I still liked her. No matter what she might have done, she didn't deserve to die in such a horrible and heartless way.

  I had to keep looking. Not just because Bree was my friend but because I wasn't sure anyone else would look for her. She had to have a family living somewhere, and friends, people who must have loved and missed her, but where were they? And why was she hiding here under an assumed name? I gulped. Perhaps she didn't have anyone! Perhaps that was why she made up her happy, loving parents. Sadness filled me. I gulped a stoic, deep breath and pushed that thought to one side.

  When neither of her names produced any useful information, I turned to the address on the driver’s license. I entered it into the search bar and waited until the map turned up. I clicked on it and looked at the busy street. It was densely populated with rundown buildings and shabby-looking apartments above. The distance was estimated a two-hour drive. I checked my watch. Even if I left now, it would take too long to go there and back today. I still had tomorrow off. I could drive to the address and at least see who lived there. Perhaps Bree had a family member or a roommate who hadn’t moved yet. Someone who could possibly give me some information. At the very least, I could let them know she was dead.

  I turned back to the license, studying it. Having searched all the written information, I still hadn't entered a search for the photo yet. I zoomed in on the photo of Bree and took a screen capture, which I emailed to myself. Opening the email on my laptop, I copied the photo into the browser before clicking search.

  Dozens of images began to fill the screen. I scrolled through all of them carefully, dismissing each one until I stopped. A grainy image of a young woman looked very similar to Bree. Her hair was longer, but she had the same pointed chin and full lips. I clicked on it, making the image larger. It was Bree! I was sure of it. I scrolled down to read the caption and gasped.

  When my cellphone rang, I jumped, almost dashing it onto the floor. I thought about ignoring it as I stared at the screen but the Calendar PD number kept blinking on the screen, which made me pause. This was definitely the right time to talk to Detective Logan.

  "Sara?" said Detective Logan when I answered.

  "Yes, it's me. I need to talk to you right away."

  "I need to speak with you too," he said at the same time.

  "It's about Bree," we both chorused.

  "You first," said Logan.

  "I found something at her apartment and I was searching online when I saw a photo of her with an article attached. I think she's wanted by the police!"

  "Yeah," sighed Detective Logan. "That's exactly what I want to talk to you about."

  Chapter Nine

  It took all of ten minutes for Detective Logan to drive from the police station to my house. By the time he arrived, I'd already paced the length of the house several times and was waiting as eagerly as the family dog at the door.

  "Thanks for seeing me," he said, stepping inside and wiping his feet on the mat.

  "I'm glad you called. I don't know what to make of Bree being wanted by the police?"

  "Me neither but it doesn't look good. You said you ran an image search?"

  I nodded. "That's right. The more I find out about Bree, the less I know! I decided to do an image search online."

  "That's smart thinking."

  I paused, wondering. "Is that what you did?" I asked.

  Detective Logan nodded. "When I couldn't find any evidence of her in my system with the information I had, I took Bree's fingerprints and submitted them to the database but I haven't gotten the results back yet. While I was waiting, I figured it couldn't hurt. I guess you must’ve found the same article I did."

  I took Detective Logan into the kitchen and showed him my laptop. The page was still open to the article I read. "Yep, that's the one," he said, straightening and unzipping his leather jacket. "You and I both think it looks like her."

  "But it says she might have something to do with a robbery!"

  "I have a bad feeling about this. I think her case might be less straightforward than a wrong place, wrong time, run-of-the-mill murder."

  "Actually, there might be more of a problem than that," I told him. I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope. "I also found this in Bree's apartment."

  "What is it?"

  "Take a look," I said, handing it to him.

  Detective Logan shook open the envelope and the contents, now so familiar to me, fell into his hand. "Where did you find these?" he asked, glancing with visible curiosity at me. "I must have searched every square inch of her apartment!"

  "They were taped under the drawer of her nightstand. She must have been trying to make sure no one found them."

  "You did," pointed out Detective Logan. He opened the passport and compared it to the driver's license. "These look real enough to me but I'll have to send them to a specialist lab and get them checked out. I'm guessing Bree is short for Brittany and a nickname she regularly used."

  "What about the money?"

  Detective Logan turned the corners of several bills. "All the serial numbers are different so I think they're probably legit."

  "I don't know if that's a good thing."

  "I don't know either. Maybe she came by this money legitimately, maybe not. I'll need to take all of it for evidence."

  "Of course."

  "You said someone came into the apartment searching for something," said Detective Logan. "I doubt they were just looking for the passport. It wouldn't have been valuable to anyone else."

  "Then what?"

  "All I can say is, it's a good thing they didn't find you. I know I warned you before but I mean it this time: don't go back to Bree's apartment at all! Not for anything! I have a bad feeling about this case. I'm going to post someone at her place discreetly to watch it in the event that anyone comes back."

  "I won't go back," I promised, sincerely intending not to.

>   "I mean it," warned Detective Logan. His eyes narrowed.

  "I get the message," I told him.

  "I better take these down to the police station. Is there anything else you thought of? Something you haven't told me? Anything that she might have said to you?"

  "No," I replied. "But I'm not sure she would have told me anything true now."

  "It seems like you're the only person who really knew Bree here."

  "But I didn't. That’s just it! I know that now."

  "All the same, she talked to you and you worked together on a daily basis. You were the closest thing she had to a friend and you also managed to figure out where she hid this," he said, holding up the envelope.

  "There is something else," I interjected before giving him a brief explanation of the photo on her mantel. I reached for the frame, which I handed to Detective Logan. "This photo was in her apartment and she said this couple were her parents, but I just picked this frame up in the New Treasures gift shop today and Grace said the snapshots were all stock models. This exact photo is supplied to all kinds of picture frames."

  "It was probably part of Bree's plan. She wanted to look normal in case anyone came over," said Detective Logan.

  "I was discussing her with a few friends and they all told me a different story about her background. I don't think she ever repeated the same thing to anyone. Do you think there was even a speck of truth in anything she said?"

  "Maybe. We might never know," he answered. "I wish I could give you more to go on. Give me your friends’ names and I’ll look into it."

  I gave him the names and repeated what Meredith Blake had said about the conversation she overheard. "Now at least I can guess why she was on the run," I said, feeling sad.

  Detective Logan looked up as he finished writing in his notepad. "Doesn't seem like that much to run from in my view. Plenty of people have incurred petty crimes that stay on their records; and if there was only the sole occasion, I doubt she would even get jail time! Take care," he said as we moved to the front of the house. He opened the door and looked up toward the sky, wincing at the latest bout of rain as he zipped his jacket and turned his collar up. "Hey, I heard you're circulating a petition to save the library. Count me in and tell me where to sign," he added.