The Scottish Deerhound came down the stairs, licked my hand as he passed by, climbed onto the couch, and went to sleep.
"You still have the dog?" I wished I could fall asleep like that.
"No one has reported him missing, and there was no chip." He ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "I couldn't let him go to the pound. He's perfectly trained."
Rex was keeping the dog? Was this one of those decisions a couple was supposed to make together? Was there someplace I could check that?
"What if no one ever claims him?"
"I'll just name him Fergus, and he'll stay here." Rex gave me a look. "Merry, your mother is missing. Focus."
"She went out to meet Stan for a drink." I left out that she was pumping him for information while I broke into his place of employment.
His eyebrows went up. "Like a date?" He didn't suggest my mom was doing anything inappropriate, but I flinched just the same.
"No. He just wanted to catch up. It was certainly not a date."
"Okay," he said. "I was just about to get dressed and head out. We got a call there was a break-in at the furniture store."
Had I tripped an alarm, or did he mean the sounds I'd heard in the showroom while I was burgling the office?
"Really? I wonder if it's connected to the Stoker murder?" Showing an interest was the only way I could think of to throw Rex off.
"I doubt it." He frowned. "Sounds like kids. They threw a brick through the front window and trashed the place. According to Andrews, they jumped on every bed in the place. I have to head over there now. Do you want me to call in an APB on your mother?"
I shook my head. "No. I'll find her. She probably got sidetracked."
Sidetracked? Over what? My mother disappeared from a bar where moments before she'd texted me to come get her. I hit the shortcut that dialed Mom directly. Straight to voice mail after four rings. The phone felt like a brick in my sweaty palm. I'd been in many life-threatening situations over the years. They didn't worry me as much as my lost mother did. I called again. This time the voice mail picked up after three rings. Third time's the charm, right? The third call went straight to voice mail.
I tried texting and waited. Nothing. At first, my texts were basic, like Mom, where are you? And Answer, please! Then they degraded to the one thing I thought would work—Mom! I'm on fire! Help! This was probably unfair. When I was twelve, my mom had a dream that the house was on fire with me inside. Dad woke up to a bucket of water in the face before she woke up.
No, I wasn't on fire. But if I was, it would probably be because of my troop of little pyromaniacs. I'm sure it would be totally accidental…
She wasn't answering her phone or any messages. Something was wrong. And I was the only one who could find out what.
We split up, and I got in my van and started cruising town with my cell on the dashboard so I could see immediately if Mom contacted me. How could I have let this happen? And what was I going to tell Dad?
Every second that ticked by felt like an hour, with no news. This was not like her. And it was all my fault. Eventually, I'd have to get Rex involved. The investigation into the burglary wouldn't take too long. He'd call soon to ask if I'd found my mom.
I called Kelly and explained.
"Merry! How could you do that to your mom!" she chastised. "I'll help you look."
I picked her up, and we cruised town for the tenth time that evening. I filled her in on the rest of what had happened.
"Maybe her phone died?" Kelly asked. "My parents never remember to charge theirs."
"Any idea where Stan lives?" I asked.
My best friend pulled out her phone and started typing.
"Turn here," she said as she gave me the address.
I followed directions, only to find myself in front of the furniture store. Rex's car and a squad car were out front.
"Here? He lives in the store?" I asked.
Kelly frowned at her phone and typed again. "That's what it says in the residence white pages. Why would he put his work address as his home address?"
"Because he doesn't want anyone to know where he lives," I said grimly.
"We could go looking for the Camaro," Kelly suggested. "It's a unique car."
"It's probably in a garage right now. No, there's only one way to find out where he lives." I took off my seat belt and sighed. "We're going to have to ask Rex."
* * *
The inside of the store looked like a hurricane had gone through it, with bedding all over the floor and a broken dresser near the office I'd been in. Officer Kevin Dooley noticed us when we walked in but didn't say anything. He was eating potato chips while interrogating Andy Andrews, like a tree sloth interrogating a nervous rabbit.
Rex walked into the office ahead of us. We stayed where we were. No point in going back in there and tipping him off.
"Rex said he thought kids did this," I said to Kelly under my breath.
Rex walked toward us. "Did you find Judith?"
I shook my head. My throat ached, and my eyes itched. I was not going to cry.
"So, it was kids?" I deflected.
He gave me a long look before answering. "I thought so but then discovered someone stole Didi Stoker's employee file from the office."
I didn't look, but I could feel Kelly's eyes boring into the side of my head. I might have left that part out when I filled her in.
Rex looked around and caught Kevin wiping his hands on a sofa. He glared at the officer, who ignored him. "They must've trashed the store in order to make it look like a break-in."
"Did an alarm go off?" I asked as casually as possible.
He shook his head. "No. Someone from the hotel was taking out the trash and spotted the broken window. They called us."
I'd been holding my breath while he answered. I wanted to let it rush out, but that would tip Rex off.
"Since we're here," I said, "can we get Stan's home address from the files? I'm worried he kidnapped Mom."
Rex's mouth dropped open. "Why would he do that?"
"He was really into my mother. Remember how she told us they'd dated years ago? I think he's obsessed with her. He might have taken her."
"You said she left when Stan was still there," he said, recalling what I'd told him earlier.
I nodded. "Yes, that's what he told me. But he could've been lying."
My fiancé thought about this for a moment. Technically speaking, this was a plea to the police over a missing person. It wasn't like I was asking him to break the rules to help his fiancé. Okay, it totally was.
He turned and walked back into the office. Within moments he returned, handing me a slip of paper.
"I can't leave here yet," he said under his breath. "But don't do anything that would make me have to lock you up."
I thanked him and raced to my car with Kelly hot on my heels. As I started the car, she plucked the address from my fingers.
"This is outside of town, near the country club," she said.
I stared at my best friend. "We have a country club?"
"They built it about five years ago. You were away. Robert golfs there a lot."
"We have a golf course?" I'd lived here two years and never noticed that Who's There had these things. Since I didn't golf or…country…club, how would I have known?
"I got your message," she said. "About Darlene. You think she's the killer?"
"I think so." I nodded. "She certainly hated Didi. And she implied that she knew how Didi was killed." I filled her in on the conversation.
"That's a good cover story." Kelly smiled. "Very smooth. So what do we do about her?"
"First, we find Mom. Then, we torture Stan. Then, we make plans to catch Darlene."
Kelly fed me directions as I drove like a demon through town and north into the countryside. Images of the terrible things I was going to do to Stan ran through my thoughts. Pliers, thumbscrews, needles under the fingernails… I didn't have anything to torture him with, but I could make do with whatever he h
ad at home. Once, I had to interrogate a guy using a saxophone. I went easy on that guy. But this bastard had my mom.
Green Hills Country Club was a small golf course and pavilion three or four miles out of town in an area I'd only known as farmland. Large houses ringed the golf course, and one of those belonged to Stan.
We pulled up in front of a new, monster McMansion that combined several architectural elements into one ugly house. The Camaro was in the driveway.
"How do you want to do this?" Kelly asked as she pulled a scalpel out of her purse.
I pointed. "What are you going to do with that?"
She shrugged. "You didn't give me much notice. I grabbed what I had on hand."
My eyes went wide. "You have a scalpel on hand?"
"I have it locked up in my sewing kit. Most of the time I use it to cut thread." Kelly looked at me like I was an idiot because everyone did this. "What's the plan?" she asked.
"I'm going to take a look around the perimeter. You stay here. I might need you to call Rex if I find anything."
She nodded and held her cell, fingers poised ready to strike, but looked a little disappointed that she wouldn't be using her scalpel. I decided to encourage her disappointment. It's not that I minded Kelly getting all stabby—it's just that it would put her in danger. And I didn't want that.
I turned off the car lights and got out, quietly shutting the door behind me. A giant, orange harvest moon illuminated everything, so I kept to the shadows. How did Stan afford such an expensive home on a salesman's salary? He wasn't married, so the money didn't come from a spouse. I tried to remember if Mom had said his family was wealthy but then thought a wealthy man doesn't depend on commissions from furniture sales. Then again, people who had money got bored and got jobs on occasion. Maybe the store was his hunting ground for picking up women. The thought made me a little nauseous.
It was so quiet. I prayed for crickets, a hooting owl, anything to break up the sounds of my feet on the dead leaves in the yard. For a man with a nice house on a golf course, he sure didn't do a lot of outdoor maintenance.
Looking back at the car, I saw Kelly's worried face pressed up against the window. I wished I hadn't involved her. She had too much to lose. On the other hand, how could I stop her? Especially since I didn't exactly turn down her offer to help me.
Once I was close to the house, I looked in lower windows but saw nothing. Nothing except very expensive furniture. Was Stan stealing from the store? Had he murdered Didi because she found out? As much as I liked the idea that they were involved in the thefts of antiquities, sometimes murders were for the most inane reasons. Sure, I haven't been an amateur detective very long, but I'd binge-watched Forensic Files last weekend. I'd texted Rex all weekend with tips for investigations. He wasn't amused.
The walls inside Stan's house were noticeable for one thing. He had a lot of taxidermic deer heads on the walls. I counted fifteen in one room alone. Was that part of his schtick? To make women think he was this virile hunter? Did he get them from Rex's sisters?
A woman's laugh floated in the air. Was it Mom's? It didn't sound like it, but it was too far away to tell. Did it come from the windows above? I carefully backed up until I could see two shadows behind a curtain. The window was open, but I couldn't see well.
Had I missed Mom in the bar? Had she passed me somehow and gone back to find Stan? Had she left with him? Why would she do that? Maybe he roofied her! But that didn't explain the giggling upstairs.
"What is it?" Kelly whispered behind me, and I jumped approximately three feet in the air, spinning and landing in a crouched position.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed. "You're supposed to stay in the car!"
"I can help!" she insisted. From the look on her face, I knew that no matter what I said, she was here for good.
I sighed. "Fine. Just stay behind me and do what I tell you."
"What do we do?"
I looked up at the tall maple tree next to me. "I'm going to see what we're up against."
It had been a long time since I'd climbed a tree. The last time I remember, I was ten. You'd be surprised how few times tree climbing comes into play as a spy. Oh well. How hard could it be? I'm the same person…only bigger and older. But those weren't drawbacks, right?
"Be careful!" Kelly hissed. "We just had a bunch of kids in the ER who'd fallen out of a tree! I had to set two broken arms, a dislocated shoulder, and bandage two sprained ankles."
Oh right. That. "Yes, but they weren't me, now were they?"
I jumped up and grabbed hold of the nearest branch. Then I swung there, trying to figure out what to do next. In my mind, I could bring my legs up and boost myself up and over the branch.
"Are you just going to hang there?" Kelly folded her arms over her chest. I should've made her do it.
"No, of course not." I sounded confident but was having trouble moving the lower part of my body.
"For a Girl Scout leader, you sure are terrible at climbing trees." She looked worried that she'd have to fix up another tree-related injury today.
I couldn't do so much as a pull-up. Time to try something else. I planted my feet on the tree trunk and walked up the tree until I could wrap my legs around the branch.
"You look like a sloth."
It was an unfortunate but honest comparison. I hung from by my arms and legs, feeling a little stupid.
"Come on!" Kelly hissed. "Get a move on."
"Oh!" I whispered. "So now you want me to climb the tree…"
It wasn't easy because I was out of shape and my arms were weak. I was only 120 pounds. With a humiliating amount of difficulty, I pulled myself up onto the branch. It felt like an hour later when I finally stood on top and reached for the next one.
This was much easier. There were a lot of branches, making it easier to climb. It was like working my way up an asymmetrical ladder, and after a few steps, it became fun. Was there a workout where you just climbed trees? I'd have to look into that.
I kept going until I was level with the window. The curtains were blocking the view, but from the shadows I could tell the people inside were still upright, which was good.
There was no way that Judith Czrygy was in Stan's bedroom. Even if she was following a lead, she could barely stomach being around him at lunch the other day. I found it hard to believe that she would be able to stand him now. But if it wasn't Mom, who was it? And did I really want to see whatever was happening?
It really didn't matter because my vision was still blocked by the curtain. A nice, strong gust of wind would've been helpful. The windowsill was out of reach by two feet, so that was out of the question. This was probably a good thing, since I didn't need Stan Coombs seeing me outside his room. I wasn't sure what I'd say if he did see me. I wanted more furniture, and you know what they say—see what a furniture salesman has in his home… I'd never pull that off, even if it did make sense.
Very carefully, I wrapped my jacket around the base to muffle the sound and rocked a small branch back and forth until it snapped.
"Let's get another bottle, shall we?" Stan's voice carried.
I waited for the voices to fade away before reaching out and using the stick to shove the right curtain aside. In spite of the cold, sweat broke out on my forehead as I tried to keep from falling. I'd just managed to scoot the curtain over a couple of inches before I saw Stan waltz into the room. I don't mean that metaphorically.
He literally waltzed. And the woman in his arms was not my mother. The giggling blonde looked to be half his age, and the fact that she was wearing only a bra and panties made me realize she was up for anything. I threw up a little in my mouth.
"Amber," Stan said smoothly, "you are positively charming."
Amber giggled. I suspected her charms were more apparent when her mouth was shut.
I was right.
"Oh, Stan!" she said shrilly. "You always say the sweetest things! It's hard to believe you only use that silver tongue on selling furniture."
/> I shuddered.
"I won't do that forever. Andrews has brought back an old employee. And I do mean old. Victoria started working there when they were selling rocks as pillows."
"What's wrong with that?" the blonde trilled.
"She's almost as bad as that witch Didi was."
My ears perked up. Did Stan call her a witch because he was the one who dressed her body as one? Had the public even been told she was found wearing the costume?
"She can't be that bad," the bimbo giggled.
Stan sighed. "That old battle-ax has no sense of humor. We can't even call her Vicki. Has to be Victoria. But the worst part is sharing commissions. I could've handled all the sales by myself."
So, Andrews brought in backup. That didn't seem unusual. And an old battle-ax probably kept Stan in his place. I liked her immediately.
They danced out of view, and all I could hear were some unsavory noises I hoped were kissing.
This was a dead end. Stan had left the bar, called another woman over, and was entertaining. Time to get down.
Have you ever noticed that coming down from a mountain or tree is vastly more difficult than going up? Each branch below me looked at least a mile away. I was just lowering my leg when the moon slipped behind the clouds, plunging me and what was beneath me into darkness.
I was not going to die outside of Stan's house, and I didn't want the last thing I heard to be Amber and Stan sucking on each other's faces…or anything else.
"What's going on?" Kelly whisper shouted.
I motioned for her to be quiet and lost my grip, causing me to fall and hit every branch on the way down. Somehow, I managed not to scream, although I'm sure I grunted every time I hit another branch. I was grateful when I landed in a heap at Kelly's feet.
Kelly knelt down beside me. "Are you okay?"
"Who's out there?" Stan's voice came down from on high.
"Time to go!" I struggled to get to my feet.
Everything hurt. Everything. You wouldn't think your ear could hurt, but mine did. I limped after Kelly toward the car, and we drove off just as the front porch light came on. I collapsed against the seat as Kelly drove.
"It wasn't Mom," I gasped. "I think I broke something."
Mean Girl Murder Page 9
