Glue, Baby, Gone

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  That brought on an impassioned, “Aw, Mom!” But Anya took her younger brother by the hand and led him into the family room.

  “Ballistics came back,” Detweiler said. “This’ll be all over the news tonight, so there’s no harm in sharing it. Bernice Marie Livesay Stottlemeyer was shot at close range with a gun registered to her husband. A Glock.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “What?” Kiki couldn’t contain her surprise. “You don’t seriously think that Wesley killed her, do you?”

  “Nope. Not for a second. The Bridgeton police hauled him in for questioning. He lawyered up, which was a smart thing to do. Especially since his lawyer was able to tell them that Bernice had broken into the Stottlemeyers’ house a month ago.”

  Hadcho got up to pour himself a glass of milk. “Not exactly correct, buddy. She didn’t break in. Seems that Wesley had changed the locks after she moved out, but he forgot to get back the spare garage door opener. So Bernice let herself in, through the door from the garage to the kitchen. Then she helped herself to the contents of the safe in his office. Took ten grand in cash and the gun. Wesley didn’t report it to the police because he felt like a dope for not thinking about the garage door gizmo.”

  “Her brother promised to pay Wesley back,” Detweiler said. “Since the divorce hadn’t been finalized, Wesley told his lawyer to deduct the cash from his part of their joint bank account.”

  “From what we’ve heard, Douglas Livesay had a full-time job mopping up after his sister.” I noted with appreciation that Brawny had gotten up to serve us decaf or regular coffee after our meal. A plate of shortbread cookies and lemon curd tempted me to sin. “Recipe,” I said, pointing to my plate.

  Brawny laughed.

  “And what exactly did you hear?” Hadcho asked.

  Kiki and I repeated everything we’d learned from Midge about Bernice (AKA Marie) Stottlemeyer. We passed around photos of the flower cart. We shared our analysis of what might have happened. The fact that Bernice had used her middle name rather than her given name while working at the hospital gave credence to the idea that she’d been planning something all along. As for hiding a baby in a gym bag, the men were dubious about that. Hadcho seemed to think there’d been a hand off, and Jana had walked out with the child. I wasn’t so sure, but I felt like the gym bag was an odd accessory for a woman who didn’t like the intimacy of a fitness center.

  “Even if she was averse to working out in a gym, Bernice could have hired a personal trainer,” I suggested.

  Hadcho didn’t respond to my idea. He simply listened. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Well? What are you thinking?” I asked, looking up at him. I was seated at the table, and he’d had his third or fourth cup of regular coffee. Since I was in a questioning mode, I added, “How can you sleep after all that caffeine?”

  He grinned at me. “Like a baby. Doesn’t stop me at all. The minute my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a light bulb that’s been shot with by a BB gun.”

  Lucky guy.

  Detweiler stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got two mysteries here. Who shot Bernice? Wesley? His girlfriend Lila? Bernice’s brother? Her sister? Jana Higgins? Jeremy Gossage? Or an outsider?”

  “Given the fingerprint smudges on the gun, I’d guess that Bernice had it with her when she arrived at the long-term lot,” Hadcho said. “I figure she pulled it on the wrong person.”

  “But if she walked out with the baby—if she’s the one who took the baby from the hospital—she had no reason to meet anyone in the parking lot,” Kiki said. “Think about it. Bernice was not a woman who put herself out or did favors for other people. And she’d been raised with money. People like that don’t save money by parking their cars in the cheap lot. They take a nice warm cab or even a limo—”

  “That’s a good point,” Hadcho said. “We need to ask all the local limo services if they’ve given any rides to women with infants over the past few days. You’re right, Kiki. Bernice would have called a service to pick her up.”

  “Let’s back up. Okay, say you’re right. Jana drugs Bonnie and calls Bernice down in the gift shop. Bernice takes the floral delivery cart from floor to floor. When she gets to Bonnie’s room, she puts the baby in her gym bag—”

  “Wait a minute. Here’s a thought. Maybe it wasn’t a gym bag. Let me show you what she used,” and I thumbed through images on my cell phone. “Remember? Midge, the clerk at the gift shop, called it a gym bag and Bernice corrected her. She even said that Midge wouldn’t know a gym bag if it bit her. It wasn’t a gym bag. It was a Sherpa travel bag. You use them to transport a pet when you fly with them. See? They have this lamb’s wool fleece on the bottom. If she used a gym bag, the baby couldn’t breathe and would get cold. But if she put the baby in this, the fleece would help keep him warm.”

  “So Bernice Stottlemeyer was planning to fly out of town with the kid in tow,” Hadcho said, after he’d looked over the photos I’d pulled up of the Sherpa bags.

  “No. That wouldn’t have worked. They make you open up your bag at the airport and take out your pet. Bernice never intended to fly with the baby. At least, I don’t think she did. Do you know if she bought a plane ticket?”

  Detweiler punched in a text message. In a minute, he had an answer. “No. My contact in Bridgeton says there’s no record of her buying a plane ticket.”

  “That proves it,” Kiki slapped her palm against the table. “Bernice Stottlemeyer wasn’t there because she was flying out of town. Bonnie told us she figured Bernice was there because she had to meet someone, probably Jana Higgins. I think she’s right. There’s only one reason that Bernice would agree to meet with Jana, especially in a parking lot in bad weather.”

  I agreed. “It’s because Jana promised to sell her the baby.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “Bernice was totally convinced that she was the smartest person in the room,” I said. “I remember once she lectured a server on the translation of pasta e fagioli. According to Bernice, it’s Italian for bean and bacon soup. Of course, that’s wrong. It’s just pasta and beans, but she was sure we’d prepared the food incorrectly. Given her history, I would imagine she had decided to double-cross Jana. That’s why she brought along the gun to their meeting.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” Kiki said. “Bernice had this rollicking sense of entitlement. No way was she going to pay ten grand for a baby. Huh-uh. Instead, she took the gun with her thinking that she would pull it on her accomplice. That way she’d get to keep both the baby and the money. I bet if they dust for fingerprints, they’ll find them on the seat belt buckle in the back seat of Bernice’s car,” Kiki said.

  “Why?” Hadcho frowned at her.

  “Because infant car seats buckle into the back seat, facing the rear of the car, for safety,” Detweiler explained. “As a godfather, that’s news you can use.”

  The men gave each other a high-five.

  “Bernice could not have gone out and bought a car seat. That would be too obvious. And no one reported finding an infant seat in her car. She must have been meeting another person who was bringing the baby—and that person brought along a car seat. That would have fit Bernice’s plans to a tee. See, she would plead ignorance and ask the other person for help transferring the infant seat into her car. While that other person—Jana probably— was futzing around with the seat belt, Bernice could pull a gun on her.”

  “That makes sense,” Detweiler said. “Why else would Bernice steal all that cash and a gun from the safe in Wesley’s office? We know she had access to money of her own. Bernice was a trust fund baby. She couldn’t withdraw ten grand cash from a bank quietly, because they’d be obligated to report that amount to the IRS. Rather than go through that hassle, she took the money out of Wesley’s safe.”

  “And she probably felt justified taking the cash,” Kiki said. “After all, she wanted a baby. She thought it would fix their faltering marriage. Why not make Wesley pay for the baby? It would serv
e him right. Of course Bernice couldn’t steal the infant all by herself. Too many eyes were watching her because of her bad girl behavior. She had to have help getting close to Bonnie Gossage.”

  “That’s why there were all those attempts at stealing infants,” Hadcho said. “What we were seeing was Bernice working out how to get the job done.”

  “But she couldn’t manage it by herself,” Detweiler warmed to the idea. “There was no easy way to slip a baby past security. Even if you disabled the RFID alarm, like she did, the hospital’s CCTV cameras would catch you in the act of taking the child off the premises.”

  “She needed to hide the baby twice,” Hadcho said. “Once while taking it from Bonnie and then when sneaking it out of the building. Having two people passing a baby back and forth really complicated the crime. We didn’t know to look for Bernice. We kept scrolling through the CCTV footage trying to find Jana Higgins.”

  “This Jana woman fits the profile of an infant abductor,” explained Detweiler. “She’s overweight, so she was able to convince people she was pregnant. She tends to be unsure of herself and have poor self-esteem. Usually there’s a man in her life who wants a child. Or at least who expects one. The most common scenario is one where she winds up backed into a corner. She’s been lying about her pregnancy, but she can only lie for so long. When the time comes to produce a baby, she sees no other option but to steal a child.”

  “That makes perfect sense.” Kiki ticked off the points on her fingers. “Jana said that she was expecting, but she couldn’t give me a due date. Every woman knows her due date! She couldn’t tell me where she planned to deliver. There’s definitely a man in her life. He has two children by a previous relationship, and she mentioned what a good dad he is. But if Jana Higgins fits the profile of an infant abductor, how’d she get hooked up with Bernice Stottlemeyer?”

  “Better yet,” I said, “why did she work with Bernice? Bernice wanted a child, too. What was the plan? They couldn’t split the baby in half.”

  “Maybe that’s how things went wrong. Maybe they fought over who got to keep the baby,” said Detweiler. He buttered a shortbread cookie with more lemon curd. My mouth watered as the tangy scent of citrus came my way. “That would explain why Bernice was murdered. She thought she was buying a baby, even though she hoped she would be able to cheat Jana out of the money. Jana wasn’t about to give up the baby.”

  “But don’t forget Jana needed Bernice, too,” Hadcho said. “Bernice was the brains of the outfit. She’s probably the one who figured out how to get the job done. Bernice must have bought the RFID blocking device. It wasn’t cheap. Bernice was able to get a job at the hospital so she could keep tabs on Bonnie’s pregnancy.”

  “And Bernice ‘found’ Bonnie,” I said, putting the quotation marks around the word ‘found.’ “She was able to point Jana in the right direction. Give her all the particulars like the fact that Bonnie spent a lot of her free time at the scrapbook store.”

  Kiki rubbed her eyes. “I am suddenly, very, very tired.”

  “It’s this case,” Detweiler said. “It’s so emotional. She’s a friend, and we can imagine ourselves in her position. Believe me, we’re doing everything we can to work this abduction. I even put in a call to Robbie. I was that fed up with how Prescott is stonewalling our efforts.”

  “I need to get the kids to bed and hit the sheets myself.” Kiki pushed her chair away from the table. “Tomorrow evening there’s a crop at the store. I’ve got a full day of kit prep to get done, and I need to go over the plans for the baptism ceremony this Sunday.”

  “And we need to schedule time together. You and me,” I said. That was code for, “We’re going to pay a quick visit to your ob/gyn.”

  Blinking at me slowly, Kiki gave a tiny shrug. “I don’t know where we’ll find any free time, Cara. Really I don’t. Maybe we can talk while I assemble kits.”

  Well, rats. And here I’d thought the matter was settled.

  CHAPTER 33

  I got up before dawn the next morning and crept downstairs, hoping to catch Detweiler so I could tell him my concerns. At first it looked like I was the only person awake, but then I realized there was coffee in the automatic coffee maker and pancake mix in a container with a pour spout. In the air was the heavenly fragrance of vanilla and hazelnut coffee. Totally worth getting up for. After pouring myself a cup, I listened carefully to the sounds of metal clanking down in the basement. Detweiler and Brawny were lifting weights. She spotted him, encouraging him and keeping him from hurting himself with a cautioning word or two.

  Not wishing to interrupt them, I waited and sipped my brew. A few minutes later, I was rewarded by the appearance of two sweat-soaked people as they trudged up the stairs.

  “Morning!” Brawny’s face was flushed. Her track suit was soaked, and a few gray hairs had escaped from the tight ponytail she always wore. Not for the first time did I notice how solidly she was built. Her shoulders were broad, and her biceps large for a woman.

  “Cara! You’re up early.” Detweiler went to hug me but pulled back. “Wait a minute. I’m pretty stinky. I need a shower,” and he turned toward the staircase leading to the bedrooms.

  “Don’t go. Not yet. I need to talk to you. Maybe even to both of you.”

  That stopped both of them in their tracks. Brawny gripped the mug in her hands and frowned. “Aye, something wrong? Are the children all right?”

  “Fine. They’re fine. At least as far as I know. The problem isn’t with them. It’s with Kiki. Have either of you noticed how down she is? Maybe not because she lives with you and you see her every day, but I’m shocked. I’ve seen her go through all sorts of tough times, but she usually picks herself up and forges ahead. Not this time. She’s barely holding on by her fingernails.”

  Detweiler pulled up the chair next to mine. His green eyes had darkened, the way the ocean does before a storm rolls in. “What do you mean? Is she unhappy? Have I done something wrong?”

  “I suspect she has a bad case of post-partum depression. You do realize that she sits in the shower and cries every morning?”

  Detweiler looked horrified, as did Brawny. They exchanged worried glances. Brawny spoke first. “Are ye sure about that? Couldn’t she be fretting over my wee lad? He misses his mother something fierce, ye know. Taken to wetting the bed now and again.”

  “I’m positive this isn’t about Erik. She and I had a long talk about how she’s feeling.”

  “What did she say?” Detweiler’s jaw flexed, and he’d knotted up his hands.

  “She’s scared to death that she can’t be a good mother to all three kids. She blames herself because Erik is regressing—”

  “But—” Brawny tried to interrupt.

  “Yes, she knows that’s normal. That’s not the point. Kiki is like a house divided. Her logical self knows Erik’s bedwetting is temporary. That it’s a predictable response to a new baby. She even recognizes that Anya’s sassy mouth is her own sort of regression as well. But deeper than that is her fear that she’s inadequate.

  “I’ve done a little reading up on this. Usually any propensity for post-partum depression is exacerbated by a trauma during pregnancy. I would guess that having your husband nearly die of gunshot wounds, and being in the middle of a gun fight yourself, would definitely qualify.”

  “But Kiki hasn’t said anything to me about feeling blue.” Detweiler opened the water and gulped it down.

  “That’s the point. She wouldn’t, would she? I’m certain she’s depressed. Usually she gets excited about what’s happening at the store, but have you noticed that she doesn’t seem to care anymore? As I recall, she always loved spending time with her kids. Although I left shortly after Erik arrived, she used to tell me all the cool things she’d done with him. She put aside Sundays and always spent them with Anya. But I haven’t heard one thing about doing things with the family. Not any projects. Not any plans to go to the zoo or the City Museum or the Magic House. That’s not like her. Added to all
this, the weather up here has been drearier than usual. You’ve had more precipitation. She and I used to joke about having Seasonal Affective Disorder, but it’s not really a laughing matter. Especially now, when I see her and she’s dragging her hindquarters like a dog that’s been hit by a car.”

  For the longest time, neither Brawny nor Detweiler said anything. That didn’t really bother me. I’ve come to realize that silence isn’t a rejection. In the right circumstances, it can indicate that your message is being mulled over. Detweiler rolled the end of his water bottle around in a small circle on the table.

  “This is my fault. I haven’t been paying attention to her. Did she tell you I was upset about Ty not being born in the hospital?”

  Tread carefully, Cara, I told myself. “Yes. I also know that she and your mother aren’t getting along as well as they once did. Your mother seems to be concerned that Kiki isn’t up to the task of being a mom.”

  A look of horror crossed Detweiler’s face. Quickly that was replaced by anger. “What are you talking about, Cara? Where is this coming from? Are you exaggerating a bad situation just to prove your point?”

  “Excuse me?” My famous temper flared.

  “Cara is telling you the truth,” Brawny hurriedly interjected. “Mrs. Detweiler has said as much to me. Before the young master was born, your ma called me to see what Kiki was doing and how long she was working at the store. I know she called the store a couple of times a day, too. Finally I told her politely her bum was oot the windae.”

  “Huh?” I couldn’t understand what Brawny was saying, but I knew she was upset because she’d reverted to her native tongue. Or a version thereof.

  “I respectfully told Mrs. Detweiler that she was wrong. She meant well, but she didna have no cause to be fretting about Kiki’s mothering skills. But your mother has a thistle stuck under her blanket. She’ll no listen to me, and she’s brought it up to me at least twice since.”