Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9)

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “Sven has me on vegetable broth, but honestly I’m not even that hungry. I think all the juice I’ve been downing must have a lot of fiber. I feel strangely full.” Her stomach gave another glug and turned over. She fanned herself with the menu.

  Jason looked up from the steak section of his menu. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I maybe overdid it with the ketllebells today. My legs feel a little wobbly.” Her legs weren’t the only thing wobbling. Now her intestines were quivering. Sweat broke out on her upper lip as her insides began to twine into a knot, then come undone, then repeat the process.

  What was in those green drinks? And how many had she guzzled?

  Her lower intestines roiled again. It was as if a thunderstorm had just erupted in her abdomen; lightning and thunder were brawling for supremacy. Suddenly Lacy was reminded of the time she got stuck on her cousin’s waterbed while Riley jumped and jumped, making Lacy bounce and jostle from side to side until she was seasick. Her stomach was pitching and rolling exactly as it had then, only worse because now she had a gallon of green juice fighting to get out. She needed to find a bathroom, the sooner the better.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute, please?” Bolting to her feet was a bad idea. All at once she understood every commercial for adult diapers she had ever watched. At this moment she would have given her left arm for the comfort and security of a Depends.

  “What is it?” Jason asked.

  There was no way Lacy could tell him. As far as he was concerned, she had no bodily functions—ever—and that was exactly how she wanted to keep it. “I left something in the room. Be right back.” She wanted to sprint away, but she was afraid of what might happen if she let go of the stringent control she maintained on the lower half of her body. Instead she waddled, keeping everything as tight as she could to avoid an accident.

  By the time she arrived at her room, there was no time to spare. She let herself in and flew to the bathroom, but the door was locked. She pounded and yelled as she jiggled the knob.

  “Let me in, let me in, let me in. For the love of all that is good, please, you have to let me in!”

  “Lacy, is that you?”

  “Mom, you have to let me in,” Lacy yelled, beating incessantly with her palms. She pressed her face to the cool wood of the door, yearning to be on the other side.

  “Honey, I’m in the bath and I just got started. I’m going to be in here awhile. I got mud in some places and, well, I’d rather not discuss it.”

  Lacy didn’t stick around to argue. Instead she whirled and headed back toward the lobby and the public restroom, waddling as quickly as the awkward position would allow. Maybe Charlie Chaplin wasn’t trying to be funny when he walked like a penguin. Maybe he struggled with debilitating diarrhea.

  She became aware that she was making a noise, something between a moan and a whimper so that it came out sounding like, “Hurnk.” Every time her left foot touched the ground, the sound came out.

  “Hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk, hurnk,” until at last she reached the bathroom. Throwing open the door with a BANG, she hurried inside. A part of her brain noted with relief that it was empty. The other, more primal part of her was beyond caring. She locked herself in the stall as wave upon wave of agonizing cramps hit her. The pain was so intense her eyes burned with unshed tears. She pressed her palms to her sockets and prayed for deliverance.

  At last it seemed to be over. She could only imagine what Jason must think or how she could try to explain this to him. One thing was for certain: he would never know what transpired in this bathroom. She would take it to the grave.

  She stood shakily to her feet. Another cramp hit her. It was so unexpected and so intense that she doubled over, striking her head on the metal toilet paper container. Everything went black, and she fell down, down, down.

  “Ma’am.”

  Lacy’s eyes popped open. Her cheek rested on cool bathroom tile. Her bare rump was hoisted high in the air. Her underpants were around her ankles, which were tangled behind her like a bound rodeo calf.

  “Ma’am.” A man was crouched on the other side of the door staring into her eyes. Lacy said the first thing that popped into her brain.

  “Homing pigeons.”

  He blinked. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. Meanwhile a cool, soothing breeze fanned her exposed hindquarters.

  “Are you aware that you’re in the men’s room?” he asked.

  “I guess that would explain the urinals,” she said. Now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing them when she ran in, but it had been too much of an emergency to process anything. “Could you maybe go away? I’ll be out in a moment.”

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  My dignity. “Some privacy would be very much appreciated.”

  “I’ll stand outside the door and make sure no one comes in until you’re ready to come out,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  He left. Lacy made sure he was good and gone before she stood and hiked up her underwear. She opened the stall and took stock of herself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was pale and sweaty with limp, tangled hair and tear-streaked eyes. One whiff of her armpits and she knew the salt had given up the ghost long ago. She stumbled to the sink, washed her hands, face, and armpits, then leaned on the counter and took a steadying breath.

  I’m going to have to go outside and face whoever is on the other side of that door. Then I’m going to have to find Jason and try to explain where I’ve been for the past however long.

  Her gaze slid longingly to the window. What were the chances she could shimmy out, run away, and never come back? Not great. Her one consolation was that Jason hadn’t been the one to find her. If that had happened, she would be forced to break up with him and assume a new identity somewhere, preferably where English was spoken and indoor plumbing was plentiful. Iceland, maybe.

  When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she left the bathroom. A spa employee stood outside. Lacy thanked him without making eye contact. He nodded in reply. She was going to be the topic of conversation among the employees for the remainder of the weekend, and quite possibly for the remainder of the guy’s life. She could only imagine the mileage he would get out of her humiliation.

  One time I found this woman passed out on the floor of the men’s room.

  Was she high?

  No, but her butt was…

  She wandered slowly back to the restaurant. Jason stood when he saw her.

  “Baby, what happened to you? Did you fall into the pool?”

  She must be sweatier than she realized. “I’m feeling a little unwell. I’m so sorry to cancel our date, but I think I might need to lie down.”

  “Of course. I’ll take you back to your room.”

  She let him assume that was what she meant when in reality she had been prepared to stretch out on the ground in front of him right then. He put his arm around her and headed in the direction of her room. As soon as they were outside the restaurant, Lacy stopped.

  “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Jason asked.

  “No, I mean I think I’m going to die. I love you. You’ve been a great boyfriend. You can have my collection of Korean cat memorabilia. It should bring you enough money to live on through the end of the week.” She leaned weakly against the wall, fighting the urge to double over as another wave of stomach cramps began.

  “Hop on, I’ll give you a piggy back,” Jason said.

  “I can’t hop. The best I can do is slump,” she said as she hugged the wall and tried not to fall over.

  “Here.” He hunkered in front of her, took her hands, and dragged her onto his back. Weakly, she gripped his waist with her legs. There was a good chance her dress was hiked up in the back—she realized this as they passed the employee who had found her on the bathroom floor.

  “We�
�re almost there,” Jason said soothingly. She didn’t bother to tell him that her groan was more from mortification than agony that time.

  They reached her room. Jason used her key to let them in and deposited her on the bed. He perched on the edge and pressed his palm to her forehead. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.” She took his hand between hers and kissed it. “Sorry I wrecked our fancy date.”

  “There will be others,” he said.

  Her mom emerged from the bathroom then. “What’s going on?”

  “Lacy’s sick,” Jason said. His tone was worried.

  Frannie came to the edge of the bed and inspected her daughter. “Looks like the detox is working.” She sounded pleased. “How was supper?”

  Lacy groaned and pulled the blanket over her face.

  “We never actually got to eat,” Jason said.

  “I’m heading there now. Want to eat with me?” Frannie asked.

  “Maybe I should stay with Lacy,” Jason said.

  Lacy’s head popped from beneath the covers. “No. I mean no. I mean I’ll probably sleep, and no one wants to watch me sleep.” She pressed her palms to her stomach, trying desperately to stifle its renewed gurgling. All she wanted was to be left alone with her misery before the next bout of sickness hit.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay,” Jason said. He kissed her forehead and stood.

  Frannie leaned over and kissed the same spot Jason had vacated. “Don’t order room service, sweetie. Let the detox do its work.”

  “It’s definitely doing something,” Lacy said. She was sweating again. Everything was soaked but her lips; they were parched.

  Jason was still staring worriedly at her. She gave him a crooked smile and a wobbly thumbs up. “Fine. Have fun. Eat things. Talk much.”

  “My wish for you is that you feel well enough to regain the use of pronouns,” Jason said.

  Frannie laughed. “Oh, you kids. Come on, Jason. The chef at this restaurant used to work for Emeril.”

  He didn’t want to go, but what could he do? Lacy obviously didn’t want him there. Knowing her, it was because she didn’t want him to see her get sick. She liked to pretend she had no biological functions, as if they had magically ceased to exist when they started dating. Jason humored her for now, but at some point she was going to have to drop the velvet ropes and let him see behind the curtain.

  “Have you ever seen her like this?” Jason asked after he and Frannie left the room.

  “Oh, sure. I’ve seen Lacy every way it’s possible to see her. You always think it can’t get worse, and then somehow it does. Don’t worry; she’ll be fine. She’s like those kids in India who live in filth. It’s sad, but it also gives them unbelievable immunity. Lacy lives a calamitous life, but she always bounces back, usually stronger and more resilient than she was before.” As if to prove how worried she wasn’t, she began to hum a mindless little tune.

  It was bizarre. Jason knew Frannie loved her daughter, but sometimes she didn’t act like it. And yet Lacy had turned out all right, minus the occasional crippling insecurity. That he blamed directly on Frannie, and it was hard to overcome. But if he wanted his relationship with Lacy to advance, he needed to make peace with her mother.

  They sat at the same table he and Lacy had left a while ago. The feeling of déjà vu was uncomfortable. The fact that Frannie looked like an older version of Lacy did nothing to help his mental state. Frannie was a beautiful woman. She and Lacy had the same red hair and green eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. Lacy’s mouth was almost always either smiling or about to smile. Frannie’s mouth was almost always frowning or set in disapproval.

  If Frannie’s constant criticisms had caused Lacy to struggle with insecurity, what had caused Frannie’s caustic demeanor? Jason wondered. Surely it wasn’t her own mother. Lucinda Craig was one of the kindest, sweetest, warmest and most loving women he had ever met. He had never met her husband, but no one had anything bad to say about him. By all accounts he was equally warm and kind. Why had their daughter turned out the way she had? Had she always been this way? Or had the weight of life pressed on her until she was the person who sat across from him staring disapprovingly at the menu.

  “Everything is so fattening,” she commented.

  “You can order from the spa menu,” Jason said. “That’s what Lacy was going to do.” He handed her the smaller spa menu.

  “So expensive,” she commented as she perused.

  Jason felt a headache starting between his temples. He hadn’t realized how much he despised negativity until Lacy entered his life. Her kind, nurturing spirit acted like a pumice stone, filing away the rough edges around him until he, too, wanted only to be surrounded by positivity. Now the cynics of the world grated on him because he knew what it was like to live with someone who saw only possibilities. Lacy looked at a decrepit, condemned building and saw a bustling marketplace. She looked at an insane drifter and saw a secretary. She looked at an emotionally damaged loner and saw a boyfriend.

  “You’re quiet,” Frannie said after they placed their orders. “I suppose you think it’s weird to dine with your girlfriend’s mother.”

  “Not at all,” Jason lied.

  Frannie chuckled. To his right, someone else laughed, and Frannie froze. Jason looked over to see Clint and Michael eating and talking.

  “If you want to go somewhere else, we could,” Jason said. He didn’t want to, though. He was hungry and the steak he had ordered—on Tosh’s tab, no less—sounded delightful.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m fine,” Frannie said and now Jason thought she was lying. She picked up the vase to her right and pulled out the rose, twisting it between her fingers.

  Jason hesitated. Instinct told him to accept the lie and move on. Make small talk until the meal was over, and then he was free. But Frannie was obviously miserable, and what made her parents miserable made Lacy miserable. So, as much as he knew he might regret it, he opened his mouth and jumped in.

  “How did you and Clint meet? I don’t think I’ve ever heard.”

  “I don’t ever remember not knowing him,” Frannie said. “You know how it is in a small town. You go to the same school your whole lives and move in and out of classes together.”

  Jason knew because he and Lacy were the same way. They were in the same kindergarten class. But he also knew now that it was possible to know someone forever without really knowing that person at all.

  “When did things turn to romance?” he asked.

  “I started to notice him when we were twelve. He was the cutest boy in the school, and good at everything. All the girls liked him, though, so I pretended to loathe him. Worked like a charm. He asked me to the seventh grade dance and we were together after that.”

  “You never broke up?”

  Her sad smile slipped. She stuffed the rose back in its vase. “For a while our senior year.”

  “What happened?”

  “You know how kids are. Oh, here’s our food.”

  The conversation was clearly closed and Jason was probably as relieved as Frannie. He wanted to delve into his girlfriend’s mother’s love life as much as he wanted to have a performance review with his boss, the sheriff.

  The conversation shifted into neutral territory—the weather, skiing, and mutual acquaintances around town until the end of the meal when Clint and Michael stopped by the table.

  “Jason, Frannie. Where’s Lacy?” Clint asked.

  “Detoxing,” Frannie said.

  “Detoxing? What does that mean?” He looked to Jason for an answer.

  “She’s sick from too much health food,” Jason said.

  “Sick? What do you mean sick?”

  “She’s fine, Clint. Lacy’s a grown woman, and we checked on her before we left,” Frannie said.

  “Maybe I should check on her,” Clint said.

  “Yes, do that. Maybe the resort will let you use a rocking chair so
you can coddle her properly,” Frannie said.

  Jason and Michael exchanged awkward glances.

  “Clint and I were thinking of checking out the slopes to plan a skiing strategy for tomorrow. Anyone want to come along?” Michael asked.

  “No, thank you,” Frannie said.

  “I’ll meet you there when I’m finished,” Jason said.

  Michael and Clint walked away. Frannie let out a breath. “That was unpleasant. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Jason said. “Relationships are hard sometimes.”

  “The death of one is even harder, I’m afraid.”

  “I thought this was a trial separation.”

  “How many times does that ever work out? I’m a realist, Jason. Clint and I have stopped working. I don’t know how to fix things between us, and neither does he. Worse, I’m not sure either of us wants to. The best thing to do at this point is cut our losses and move on. At least we made it until the kids were out of the house so it won’t affect them.”

  She was wrong, but Jason didn’t think it would do any good to tell her. The separation was affecting Lacy. She was hurting, and he hated it. Worse, it was the kind of wound that would only get deeper as time went on. He wanted to fix things for her, but how could he hope to do that when no one seemed to understand what went wrong in the first place? He was a detective; it was time to detect. His instinct was telling him something. Time to find out if it was true.

  “Frannie, can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the breakup when you were in high school have any effect on your relationship now?”

  She took a moment to answer. When she did, her voice was loaded with emotion. “I’ll tell you the truth, Jason. It has everything to do with everything.”

  Chapter 6

  When Lacy woke, the room was dark. Kimber lay sleeping peacefully beside her, but not all was well in the room. Someone was crying. In fact, two someones were crying.

  She sat up and saw Riley pacing back and forth with Lucy. Both of them were bawling.

  “What is it?” she whispered.