Rescue Me: a horse mystery

by Toni Leland

  Julia stopped short inside the door of the thrift shop, taken aback by the strange blend of odors, a melange of used clothing, old wood, musty paper, and who knew what else. The store was large and well-lit, and a dozen or so customers browsed through the shelves of discarded treasures. Julia checked her mental shopping list. Clothes, maybe another wig, a different tote, and anything else that might be useful.

  She headed for the racks of women’s pants, trying to ignore her revulsion at the thought of putting on some stranger’s clothes. To her surprise, many of the items were brand new with tags, and others were like new. She found two pairs of jeans and some wool dress slacks, then moved on to the blouses and jackets.

  Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror in a musty dressing room, struggling to ignore the heavily perfumed air freshener that did little to cover up the odors in the confined space. The slacks fit perfectly, as did the jacket. They were expensive brands and she looked great in them. Then a sinking feeling came over her—this was the wrong approach for a new life.

  “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, peeling out of the slacks and putting her jeans back on.

  She carried the clothes back to the racks and started over. Ten minutes later, she gazed again at her reflection. The baggy jeans were a size too big, and the tee shirt was a large, but the look was what she needed. She placed the new items in the shopping cart.

  The store was heavily decorated for Halloween, and a central location held anything that might suffice for a costume. Julia plucked up a wig with long red hair, then another one with short straight black hair. At the side of the store, one full wall held dozens of pairs of shoes. She grabbed a pair of winter boots and a brand new pair of white athletic walking shoes. At the end of the shoes, tall racks held purses and bags. She found a sturdy, well-worn brown backpack—the perfect place to carry everything. She cringed, thinking about what the next few weeks might be like. Unless she found a secure place to live, she’d have to carry the money with her at all times.

  She left the thrift store just as the Jefferson Street bus pulled up to the corner. She looked at her watch. It was now almost two-thirty and she was starving. She could go back into the Sheraton and eat there, but that would be risky. Better to wait until she found the motel. She sighed and looked out the window at the tired old buildings in the area. This was so much harder than she’d imagined.

  Chapter 11

  Julia hesitated on the bottom step of the bus, then stepped off onto the cracked sidewalk. Glancing up and down the street, she assessed the area, dismay threading through her head. Freight depots, trucking companies, and construction lots lined the road in both directions for as far as she could see. Directly across the street, chain link fence surrounded a huge lot jammed with construction trailers and equipment. A one-story building sported vivid graffiti on the grimy brick and boarded-up windows. She turned away from the dismal view and walked toward the motel entrance.

  The woman at the bus stop hadn’t been kidding—the motel was anything but fancy. Weariness hummed through Julia’s muscles as she pushed through the door. As long as it was clean and safe, she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be here long. The tiny reception area smelled of pine cleaner, a scent so strong it burned her nostrils. The office was protected by thick glass with a round opening for talking, and a slot on the counter for transactions. Great. So much for a safe, secure place to stay. She rang the chrome call-bell and a dark-skinned woman immediately appeared. Her dark eyes were friendly, and Julia found herself staring at the small red dot on the woman’s forehead.

  “I need a room.”

  “How many people?” The woman’s voice was lilting and her English was good, with just a hint of British accent.

  “One.”

  Julia caught sight of her reflection in the glass. She still wore the sunglasses. Reaching up to remove them, she remembered her black eye and hesitated. Better to be as unmemorable as possible.

  “How many nights?”

  “Five or six.”

  “Twenty dollars per night plus tax, or one hundred dollars per week plus tax. Pay in advance.” She pushed the registration card through the slot. “Do you have a driver’s license?”

  Julia shook her head. “My purse was stolen this morning. I have to start over.”

  The words reverberated through her chest. Starting over, a new future, maybe even some peace and happiness down the road.

  The woman’s face showed sincere concern. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  Julia stared at the registration form. A name. She needed a different name. Why hadn’t she—well, what difference did it make what name she used? With no identification, she could have a new name every day if she wanted. She wrote “Coquette Smith” on the line.

  She laid two fifty-dollar bills on the form and pushed it through the opening. “Do you have an end room, away from the street?”

  The woman nodded and passed a key through the slot. “It’s very quiet here, except on weekends. The construction crews get a little loud when they come home from the bars, but we try to keep them under control.”

  “Is there someplace to eat around here?”

  “Go out to the gate, turn right and go two blocks, then turn right. There’s a diner halfway down the block. It opens early.” She tilted her head, her expression sober. “Don’t walk around this area after dark.”

  Julia thanked her and set off to check out her new temporary home.

  The parking lot was deserted, but it wouldn’t be long before that changed. Julia assessed the building. It wasn’t shabby or run-down, but the doors could use a coat of paint. The room at the far end butted up against a massive tangle of shrubs and trees, and she shivered involuntarily. The motel owner’s warning, coupled with Julia’s new awareness of her surroundings, reminded her that the foliage could be a hiding place for unsavory characters. She hugged her tote bag tightly.

  The room was dark and cold. She removed her sunglasses, flipped on the light, and moved directly to the wall-mounted heater. Dropping her bags on the bed, she looked around. The air was musty from being closed up, but the place didn’t smell bad. A regular double bed hogged most of the room, and a small table and chair were arranged in the corner by the window. On the wall facing the bed, a small television was bolted to the ceiling and, underneath that, a tiny microwave oven sat on a desk/bureau with drawers. She looked inside the drawers and found a Gideon Bible, a phone book, and a menu for delivery pizza. She crossed the room to inspect the bathroom. Clean and functional. She turned back and nodded. This would do just fine.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed by the desire to lie back and disappear into sleep for a while, but that would have to wait. She needed to get to the diner before dusk. Pulling the new backpack from her thrift store purchases, she began transferring all her worldly goods into it. To her delight, inside the main bag, another zippered compartment expanded into the bottom. She tried to think what its use might be, then nodded.

  “Of course! It would hold a pair of shoes perfectly.”

  She began stuffing the bundles of money into the expanded compartment, then zipped it up and piled her other things on top. She stood up, hooked the strap over her shoulder, and headed for the door. Thrift store shopping was filled with surprises—she’d have to try that again.

  Julia walked purposefully along the busy street, following the motel manager’s directions. At the second intersection, she turned right and could see the diner’s neon sign midway down the block.

  “Tommy’s Place” was no great shakes, but it was relatively clean and the smells coming from the kitchen sent a flush of hunger through Julia’s stomach. A couple of men sat at a table in the corner, and a lone elderly man hunched over a plate of food at the lunch counter. Julia slid into a booth by the window as a short bald man hurried over, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “You want coffee?”

  “No, I’ll have, uh, cola.”

  He scribbled on his orde
r pad. “Special today is chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and biscuits. Dessert half-price.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The man hurried back to the kitchen and Julia gazed out the window at the pickup trucks and vans that cruised the area. They weren’t junkers, but they weren’t new, either. As long as she didn’t do anything stupid, she should be safe here. She just needed long enough to form a plan to change her looks. She gulped. Chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes would be a good way to start that plan. With twenty or so extra pounds, she’d look different than the description that had been broadcast on the day of her disappearance. She chewed the inside of her lip. She’d spent years keeping a model’s figure and looking like a fashion plate. Bile rose in her throat. For Stephen, always for Stephen. He was so adamant about my appearance. At that moment, she wondered if her husband had ever really loved her for who she was, or if she’d simply been one of his possessions.

  A few minutes later, the largest plate of food she’d ever seen appeared in front of her. A mountain of mashed potatoes swam in gravy beside two large pieces of crispy brown meat. A separate bowl of steaming green beans was served with two crusty golden biscuits, butter, and jelly packets. Good grief, I’ll never be able to eat all this!

  The first bite sent delight coursing through her head and she tucked in. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  “Tsk, tsk. Them potatoes will go right on that pretty ass of yours.”

  Julia dropped her fork and looked up. She’d been lost in thought and hadn’t heard anyone come near. The two men from the corner had finished, and one was paying the check while the other one made comments about her dinner.

  She gave him a dead look. “Get lost.”

  Did I really say that?

  The guy chuckled and walked on to join his companion. They both looked back at Julia and grinned, then pushed through the door to the street. They climbed into a green pickup with a caved-in door. As the truck pulled away from the curb, the driver gave Julia a lecherous grin through the window.

  Great, just great. The only place to eat within walking distance and I manage to draw attention to myself. Again.

  The server appeared. “Everything good?”

  “Delicious, but I can’t finish it. Could I take the rest with me?”

  He nodded. “You from around here?”

  Uh-oh. Be careful. “No, just here for a couple of days.”

  He nodded and pulled out his order pad. “Did you want dessert?”

  “Mm, yes. Do you have any apple pie?”

  “One piece left.”

  “I’ll take it to go.”

  He wrote something with a flourish, ripped off the sheet and plunked it down on the table. “I’ll get the box.”

  As Julia walked back toward her motel, she noted the frequency of buses moving up and down the street. It looked as though she could catch one about every fifteen minutes. That would be convenient. She’d need to get into town at least two more times in the next few days. At some point, she needed to get some form of identification and that would be her biggest stumbling block. A year ago, at a time when her morale had been at an all-time low, she’d briefly researched the subject of counterfeit ID on one of the computers at the library. The articles had made it seem almost easy, but she’d discovered it wasn’t something that happened without a lot of forethought and care. And now, she couldn’t remember a single fact about the subject. Another trip to a library was in order.

  She walked through the gate to the motel parking lot, crossing diagonally toward her room. Two vehicles were now parked in front of rooms—an older white sedan, and a green pickup with a dented door.

  “Of course.”

  She dropped her head and hurried the last few yards to her door, hoping the men weren’t looking out the window. Safely inside, she turned the bolt and slid the chain into its track, then dropped the backpack on the floor beside the bed. Snatching off the wig, she vigorously scratched her head with both hands. Wigs weren’t going to cut it for the long haul. She stood there for a minute. Shower or sleep? Now that she’d eaten, she wasn’t very sleepy. She headed for the bathroom, peeling off her clothes and thinking about her rude retort in the diner. As well as changing her looks, she’d need to adopt a new attitude, a tougher get-outta-my-face personality that would keep people at arm’s length. She exhaled. That might be the hardest part of her transformation. By nature, she was soft-spoken and polite, caring and thoughtful. And, a doormat.

  She passed the bathroom mirror and glanced at her slim naked body, still marked with Stephen’s wrath. She stopped and stared, then slowly smiled.

  “Goodbye, Julia.”

  Warm and deliciously clean, Julia slipped under the covers and snuggled against the pillow. The bed was surprisingly comfortable and she let out a long sigh. The television’s black face stared down at her and she reached for the remote. Might as well see what the damage was, so far.

  A second later, she stared at her own face on the screen, a photograph taken at some charity function earlier in the year. Her hair was swept back behind her ears and her makeup was over-done. Another of Stephen’s attempts to make her look glamorous. She snorted. Today, she looked nothing like that picture. Still, with or without makeup, her fine features and high cheekbones showcased her wide green eyes. How could she change that?

  The newscaster’s voice updated the story while the image remained on the screen.

  “Oklahoma City police are still searching for information on the possible whereabouts of Seattle socialite, Julia Dorsey, who disappeared from the Oklahoma State Fairgrounds sometime yesterday evening. Dorsey is the wife of multi-millionaire electronics entrepreneur Steven Dorsey, who has offered a large reward for information that leads to finding his wife. The FBI has become involved in this possible kidnapping, although our sources report that no ransom demand has been received. Police are now concerned that Mrs. Dorsey may have become a victim in a series of grisly rape-murders which have been occurring in the metro area. Julia Dorsey is five-foot-nine, weighs one hundred and twenty pounds, has brown hair streaked with blond, and green eyes. Anyone with information should contact…”

  Julia muted the sound and nodded her head slowly. How convenient to have a serial killer on the loose in the area. Perhaps that would keep anyone from thinking about a runaway.

  Second Day

  After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast of apple pie and buttered biscuits, Julia donned her new clothes and laced up the new shoes. She reached for the red wig, then grabbed the blonde one instead. It didn’t make much sense to come and go with different colored hair—that would only draw attention to her. She’d save the other two wigs for when she was ready to make the next move.

  The St. Louis metro phonebook was three inches thick and provided everything Julia could want in the coming days. She located the library page and jotted down addresses, then searched for more thrift stores, finding an army surplus store, as well. In the front of the book, a street map of the city gave her some sense of where she would be going. Without giving it a second thought, she tore the page out and folded it into her pocket along with the addresses she’d written down.

  Hoisting the backpack onto her shoulders, she turned off the lights and stepped outside. A light rain was falling and the temperature was cool. The parking lot was empty. If the men from the diner were construction workers, they were most likely up and out by three-thirty or four.

  “Good. Less chance of another encounter.”

  A bus pulled up as she left the parking lot, and twenty-five minutes later, she was in downtown St. Louis. The trip through the main streets was enjoyable, with a good view of the many attractive features of the city. At one point, she glimpsed the top of the famous arch, and made a mental note to visit the monument after she was more settled.

  The walk to the public library took her past many modern high-rise buildings, along streets bustling with shoppers and workers and, to her surprise,
several blocks were lovely green parks in the center of downtown. She finally reached the library and gazed up at the magnificent historic building. Its marble countenance emanated the wealth of knowledge within. A giddy sensation swirled through the pit of her stomach as she climbed the wide stairs to the arched entrance. Inside the hushed lobby, she read a plaque on the wall. The building had been constructed in 1901 with funds from a generous grant by Andrew Carnegie. Had the man had any idea of the joy and wonder he would bring to millions of people forever more?

  She entered the main area and approached the information desk. “Where are the public computers located?”

  “Up the stairs, take a right. You can’t miss it.”

  Two hours later, she left the library, discouragement weighing heavily on her mind. Changing her identity would be next to impossible unless she consorted with criminals. She walked slowly down the street, turning over in her mind all the information she’d gathered about trying to disappear into a new life. Her sense of hopelessness grew. Without identification, she had no hope of getting a job. How would she find one of the purported countless underground counterfeiters who dealt in fake documents? Apparently, high school and college kids knew exactly how to find these people. Would she have to hang around a campus and take a chance on asking someone? Or worse, hang around a bad part of the city and hope she asked the right person? Her head swam with questions and answers, none of them encouraging.

  At the corner, she looked down the street and sucked in her breath. A magnificent cathedral took up most of the block, a structure of time-darkened stone with huge stained glass windows and a bell tower outlined against the gray sky. Julia walked toward the church, her heart beating fast and her breath coming in small snatches. Longing ached in her chest. She wanted desperately to hear a comforting voice. Maybe her answers lay inside that quiet sanctuary.

  Julia grasped the worn brass handle of the ornate wooden door, and the connection with a century of humanity washed over her. The door opened easily and silently, and she stepped across the threshold, out of the chaos and into the dim quietude. Her breath came softly, and her heart thumped gently, a prelude to transition. Her gaze traveled up to the arched ceiling and the shadowed recesses. Sunlight filtered through the many stained glass windows. The air was still, and touched with the scent of antiquity. She walked a few steps, trailing her fingers over the edges of the worn oak pews, then slid onto one of the seats and sat back. At the front of the church, the white altar glowed beneath a magnificent rose window, and hundreds of gleaming pipes rose into the ceiling on both sides. Julia’s heart ached. How beautiful the music would sound in this place, spiritual surroundings she hadn’t graced with her presence since the day she’d married Stephen. She looked down at her hands, struggling with the angry thoughts that had no place here.