Wedding Day of Murder

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “I was wondering if you might have the time to find something for me. If you don’t, I understand,” he said, crossing his fingers that he had caught her in an impartial mood.

  “What information?” she asked. Her smoke-laden vocal cords cranked together like rusty gears, but despite her harsh sound, she had a tender heart. Sometimes it was buried deep, but it was definitely there.

  Jason told her what he wanted, and she agreed to work on it as long as nothing more important came along. It was the best he could hope for. Reluctantly he hung up and gathered the files. He had put it off as long as he could, but now it was time to talk to Rain, AKA Susan Jenkins.

  Chapter 10

  Rain was lying on the floor. In a puddle, Jason thought, vaguely amused by the lame little joke. On days without Lacy, he had to take laughs where he could get them. He sat and arranged the folder on the table, making sure it was at a crisp and perfect angle. Physical clutter equaled mental clutter; he needed to be sharp enough to wade into the miry recesses of Rain’s mind. Perhaps he should take out the table and chairs to make the space as empty as possible. As it was, the chair across from him angled to the side, distracting him. He straightened it with his foot and cleared his throat.

  “Your name is Susan Jenkins,” he said, lobbing the first volley.

  “My label is Rain,” she insisted.

  “When did you take that label?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I see here that you’ve been arrested a few times at other protests,” he tried.

  “Injustice always needs a defender,” she said.

  “What was the nature of those protests?” he asked.

  “The first one was a sweatshop. Child laborers were involved.”

  “It says you were arrested outside of a school,” Jason said.

  “Spelling bee,” she explained. “They weren’t even being paid.”

  “Okay,” he drawled. “The second arrest was for projectile vomiting.” He peered closer at the paper. Had he read that right?

  “I had a vomit-in at a restaurant.”

  “A vomit-in?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

  “I drank sour milk and puked a lot.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Were their chickens caged? Did the beef use hormones?”

  “No, it was a vegan restaurant, but they overcharged on the miso and I got mad.”

  “You got angry, so you made yourself throw up,” he said.

  “I don’t support corporate greed on any level,” she said. “Plus I didn’t have enough money to pay for my meal because of the high price of miso. It was very embarrassing.”

  “Not having money to cover your meal bothered you, but throwing up in front of strangers was fine,” he said.

  “It was for a good cause,” she said.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Corporate greed,” she said.

  “How did you hear about this place?”

  “Michael,” she said.

  Jason’s ears pricked at the mention of a familiar name. “Michael O’Donnell?”

  “Yes. We had a date.”

  “You had a date with Michael,” he said. In another context, the girl might have been cute, but she was so obviously awash in crazy that no sane man would get within ten feet of her. Why had Michael asked her out? Was it coincidence that brought her here, or had Michael purposely egged her on?

  “What did he say that brought you here?” he asked.

  “He told me all about his boss and intolerable working conditions,” she said.

  “He doesn’t have a boss,” Jason said. “He owns his own business.”

  “I’m fairly certain that he called the red haired woman his boss,” she said.

  Michael did call Lacy “boss,” much to her irritation. “Think hard. Did he tell you to come here?”

  From her position on the floor, she squinted at the ceiling. Then she blew out a breath. “I’ve said too much already.”

  Jason wanted to beat his head on the table. Just when he was getting somewhere, she decided to clam up. “You really haven’t, and this is important. Why are you here?”

  “To protest corporate greed,” she said.

  “Look, I’m done being Mr. Nice Guy. I need answers, and I think you have them. Why are you here?”

  “You can’t intimidate me; my people are used to injustice and intolerance,” she said.

  “Your people? Who are your people?” he asked.

  “I’m one forty second Native American,” she replied earnestly, holding up her arm for his inspection. Except for a few freckles, she was as white as he was, possibly paler.

  “I guess I’d better hurry this interview along before Gloria Allred shows up with a TV crew,” he said. He was joking, but she nodded her agreement. “Here’s the deal: Either you start to give me real answers to my questions, or you’re going to spend some time in the tank.” The obstruction charges were flimsy. He planned to drop them if she was cooperative. For a few beats, he thought she might talk. Then she took a deep breath and started to keen. Loudly. Jason covered his ears. “What are you doing?”

  She paused to answer. “This is what my people do when we’re faced with grief.” The words finished, and the horrible keening started again. She sounded like an elephant in distress. He stood, left the room, and called for a couple of deputies to take her to the jail. He didn’t attempt it himself, both because she was still making herself limp and because his phone was buzzing. A quick glance at the display showed that he had missed a few calls. Worse, they were all from Mr. Middleton. As soon as “Rain” was safely ensconced in a holding tank, he dialed Mr. Middleton. This time his former principal didn’t mince words.

  “It’s Lacy. She’s gone again.”

  “Gone from where?”

  “The hospital. They lost her. We’ve looked everywhere.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Jason said. He hung up his phone and stuffed it back onto his belt. “I have to go,” he announced to Detective Arroyo and his secretary who were standing together at her desk. “I didn’t get anything from Rain. She’s in holding on an obstruction charge. I’ll work on her again later after she simmers for a while.”

  “Where are you going?” Arroyo asked, eying Jason with suspicion.

  “Family emergency,” Jason said. “I’ll fill you in when I get back.” Just like that, he left. For so many years since he joined the force, his work had come first. Until recently, he had spent every holiday working so that men with families could have the day off. Now he had someone, and he no longer wanted his life to be consumed by work, but the transition was hard. Too often lately Lacy had to take a back seat to some emergency. She was patient about it and didn’t complain, but how long would her patience last? This time when she needed him, when she was really in trouble, he planned to be there, murder investigation or not.

  When he arrived on the scene, Jason found the same players from last time—Mr. Middleton, Mrs. Craig, Tosh, Riley, and Lacy’s Mom, Frannie. This time, however, it was none of their faults. And this time, he wasn’t the only one who was outraged. Mr. Middleton was in a fierce temper. Though he didn’t explode or say a word, the hospital staff scurried solicitously around him, bringing reports and updates like sergeants to a beloved wartime general.

  “What happened?” Jason asked him.

  “No one knows,” Mr. Middleton said. “They called us an hour ago and asked if any of us had seen her. None of us had, so we all came here. I can’t get an agreed upon time that anyone last saw her. Her vitals were taken two hours ago. After that, things become confusing. Apparently she was up and down all night demanding pudding. Finally they brought her a case of it, and she stopped coming out of her room. She must have eaten some because there’s a huge tower of empty containers beside the bed, but after she settled down, everyone lost track of her.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Jason said. “She’s one woman. How hard can it be to keep track of her?”
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  Tosh snorted. “You’ve obviously never taken her to the grocery store.”

  Jason had, actually, and vowed never to do it again. Lacy approached the supermarket with the same enthusiasm other women reserved for the sales rack at Nordstrom. “My point is that it’s their job to look after her. How could she have disappeared?”

  “It’s not so easy,” Frannie said with a hint of smug satisfaction.

  I’ve never lost her, Jason wanted to say but bit down on a reply. Now was not the time to start a war with his girlfriend’s mom. Now was the time to find his girlfriend. “Has the hospital been searched?” He addressed Mr. Middleton who, once again, seemed to be the only one with his head in the game. Mrs. Craig looked worried and tired. Riley read a magazine while Tosh rubbed her back. Jason didn’t know what Frannie was doing because he didn’t want to see. If he saw that she wasn’t taking this disappearance seriously, he might lose it. It was better to believe that she was as worried about Lacy as he was.

  “Yes. Three times—once by staff, once by security, and once by me and Tosh.”

  “I looked in all the weird places,” Tosh added, which alleviated Jason’s anxiety a little. Lacy would naturally have gravitated toward the strangest or most dangerous hiding places.

  “Is there a laundry chute here?” he asked.

  Tosh shook his head. “I asked. I also checked all the laundry baskets, washing machines, and steamers. There’s a code on the doors and someone staffs it fulltime.”

  “The kitchen?” Jason prompted.

  “Is also fully staffed. A patient wandering in and demanding sugar would not go unnoticed,” Tosh said. “I showed them her picture and asked a few people to keep an eye on the cookie cart.”

  Now everyone was looking at Jason, wondering what to do next. He felt the same pressure he sometimes felt at work, as if the task was too big and he wasn’t up for it. This time the stakes were higher because it was Lacy and she might be in danger. At the very least she was sick and not in her right mind; she should not be up and wandering. With that thought in mind, he decided to make things official. Lacy was incapacitated, and that made her officially a missing person.

  “I’m calling it in,” he said. He stepped into the hall to get away from so many sets of eyes and relayed all the pertinent information to his dispatch. They would put out the word among the officers and state patrol. Word would spread to the fire crew and paramedics, too. The civil service community was tight knit and looked out for its own. As proof, not more than a minute later the officer in charge of their local state patrol post called him back and offered their infrared plane. Jason held them off for a while until he could search again on foot.

  He made a fist and ground it into his eyes. They felt gritty. Last night he had stayed so late with Lacy that he barely had time for sleep. Then he had thought the worst was over. Who knew it would start all over again today? After a deep breath, he dropped his fist and went back inside. Five pairs of eyes turned hopefully in his direction. “Mrs. Craig, if you and Frannie would be so good as to go home and keep an eye out in case Lacy goes there. Riley, do the same at your house. Tosh, come with me so we can start the search again.”

  “What should I do?” Mr. Middleton asked. He was used to giving orders, not taking them, but he was similarly exhausted and not as young as he used to be. Jason was torn between wanting his calm, steady presence, and wanting to give him a break to rest.

  “If you could coordinate the flow of information, that would be great,” Jason said. “I’m going to give the searchers your number and they’ll report to you with what area they covered, when they’re done, and what they found.” In any emergency, having a base of operations was essential. At work they had dispatch; for the volunteers they would have Mr. Middleton. The older man nodded, looking both relieved to have something to do and disappointed that it wasn’t on the front lines.

  Jason’s gaze traveled to Frannie. She was reading the paper. Indignation on Lacy’s behalf rose up, choking anything he might have said, which was undoubtedly a good thing. She felt his eyes on her and looked up. She tapped the paper. “I talked to this boy.”

  Jason stepped closer to get a better view. Carl Whethers’ picture stared back at him. “You talked to him?” he repeated. She nodded. “What did you talk about?”

  “Lacy. He said he was planning a story about her. He wanted to know some stories from her childhood. I gave him some pictures.”

  And you didn’t think to mention this when we were having a conversation about Lacy yesterday, Jason thought. He gritted his teeth and tamped down a response, noting that his ability to do so was wearing thin. Soon he wouldn’t be able to hold back a reply; soon everything he thought about Lacy’s mother would come tumbling to the surface; he had to find Lacy before that happened. If she was safe and well, he wouldn’t be so frustrated and impatient. He needed his buffer. “What kind of stories did you tell him?”

  “Oh, just some cute stories about all of Lacy’s mishaps. He thought those were funny. He wrote a lot of them down.”

  “What did he write on?” Jason asked.

  “His computer,” Frannie said.

  “You saw his computer,” he reiterated.

  She nodded. “I commented on it because it was beaten up. I told him he needed a new one. He said he was saving for a Mac.”

  “Did he say anything else? Anything at all about Lacy or the protests or anyone else in town?” Jason asked.

  “No, just that he planned to talk to more people in town about Lacy. I gave him Kimber’s number,” Frannie said.

  “Did he talk to anyone else?” Jason asked the group before they broke up.

  Everyone else said they had never heard of Carl Whethers. Mr. Middleton’s lips were pressed together in a grim line. Jason wondered if he was as frustrated with Frannie as he was. How could she talk to a stranger about Lacy? Lacy would hate that. She was a private person. To have her dirty laundry aired to a stranger, and a reporter no less, would feel like a stab in the back.

  “Did he say why he wanted to do an article on Lacy or what the focus was about?” Jason asked.

  “No,” Frannie said. “But all publicity is good publicity, right? I figured it would help her little building project.”

  Jason couldn’t take it anymore. He switched his focus to Tosh. “Are you ready? Let’s go.” He turned and left without waiting to see if Tosh would follow. Though he had a head start, it didn’t take Tosh long to catch up. His legs were like stilts, and he always seemed in danger of losing control, like Bambi on ice or a Great Dane puppy who hadn’t grown into his paws yet. On the best of days, Tosh annoyed him, a leftover sentiment from their former rivalry. Today he had no patience for anything. He kept his gaze straight ahead and tried not to snap when Tosh started to talk.

  “You don’t like Frannie,” Tosh said.

  “Do you?” Jason asked.

  “She’s my mother-in-law,” Tosh said, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

  Jason couldn’t help but smile a little over that. “Lucky you.”

  “She could easily be yours someday,” Tosh reminded him.

  Jason’s smile fled.

  “I can’t believe she talked to a reporter,” Tosh continued. “Lacy would hate that.”

  “Maybe that’s why she did it,” Jason mused. “Frannie delights in playing favorites, and your wife is the anointed one.”

  “Lucky Riley,” Tosh said dully.

  “Yeah,” Jason agreed. Lacy was hurt by her mother’s constant rejection, but he was thankful for it. The bruising pain had produced her sweet and compassionate nature. He would take that any day over Riley’s bratty self-absorption, although he did have to give her credit. She seemed to be improving a little. Or maybe she was too sick and exhausted from the pregnancy to misbehave. If so, Tosh should keep her pregnant all the time. “Geez, you’re going to be a dad,” he exclaimed as the thought hit him anew. A few months ago they had been locked in a dead heat over Lacy. Now Tosh was marrie
d with a baby on the way. He was a couple of years older, but still. How was he ready for such a monumental shift? Maybe he wasn’t. He made a sucking sound like he’d been hit in the solar plexus with a medicine ball.

  “I know,” he croaked.

  Jason snickered. Tosh rubbed his stomach as if trying to ward off an ulcer. They reached the lobby and found Travis and a handful of off duty units along with Kimber and Andy. Jason had set the hospital as their starting point; they would fan the grid from there. Travis had the map. Jason put him in charge of creating a grid. Meanwhile, he pulled out his notebook and jotted a few things, including names and phone numbers of some hospital staffers, times Lacy had been spotted, and places that had been searched. The doors opened, and Michael eased in. He stood at the back of the group, looking markedly similar to the group of protesters. He also wore a scruffy canvas coat. Despite the fact that he was clean-shaven, he seemed perpetually disheveled somehow. Maybe that was what turned Jason off; he didn’t like messy people. Something bothered him about the man, but what? He wouldn’t let himself believe it was simple jealousy. He wasn’t that insecure and immature. Was he?

  “Your face is going to freeze that way,” Kimber whispered.

  “I don’t want him here,” Jason said.

  Kimber tsked. “Boy, you better grow up. There are other men in the world, and Lacy’s going to be friends with some of them.”

  “It’s not jealousy,” he insisted. Something about the man set his instincts on high alert. He scribbled his name in the notebook. He had never checked Michael out because he’d never had reason to. Now with a thready connection to the protesters and therefore the murder victim, he did. Where did Lacy say he came from? He closed his eyes for a second, thinking, and then scribbled on the pad. Minnesota. It was time to put the question of Michael O’Donnell to rest. If he had anything nefarious in his past, Jason intended to find it. Not now, though. Now he needed to find Lacy. He shoved the notebook back in his pocket and walked away. This time he would begin at the ending and start at the last place he had found Lacy. It was far away and worth a try. Maybe she had walked back there for some reason. Or maybe someone took her and stashed her there.