Wedding Day of Murder

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  She was dating Jason, he loved her, she owned the Stakely building, and she was inexplicably missing teeth and confined to a little box. Was it a coffin? Her heart thundered painfully until she ascertained that the space was too big for a coffin. It had four walls with some sort of large pipe protruding from one of them. The pipe felt warm. She cozied up to it, felt hot, and immediately moved away. The wall with the pipe was made of brick. The brick was cool. She alternated between pressing her hand to the pipe and the bricks as her temperature alternately climbed and plummeted.

  Had someone put her in the box? The question seemed important, and yet as hard as she tried, she couldn’t find an answer. She had no memory of how she arrived wherever she was. She pressed her hand to the wall again, reveling in the feel of something familiar. The confusing jumble of thoughts tried to pull her under again, but she struggled to hold on to the last one. Familiar. The feel of the bricks was familiar.

  Jason had never broken into a business before. Fortunately, he’d had a lot of experience arresting people who had. He had learned from them to act casual, and to strike when no one was looking.

  “Evening, Joe,” he said as Joe the security guard passed him on his nightly rounds.

  “We’re closed up, Jason,” Joe said. His tone was suspicious. Joe was so innocuous that Jason sometimes took him for granted, but he was smarter and sneakier than he looked.

  “I know,” Jason said. “But I need to get into Lacy’s office and take a look around. She might have left clues to her disappearance.”

  At the mention of Lacy’s disappearances, Joe’s eyebrows drew together in a sad frown. “Okay,” he agreed, as if he had any choice. As if Jason wouldn’t have steamrolled right over him to get what he wanted. He was so intent on his purpose that only compassion had made him stop when Joe hailed him. Joe’s life had been rough and made rougher after Jason incorrectly arrested him for murder some years back. He was on the straight and narrow now and deserved all the kindness he could find. Lacy had made it her mission to see that he found a lot.

  Joe watched while he raced up the first open flight of stairs and ducked into the stairwell on the second floor. The elevated vantage point would give him a birds-eye view of Joe. Jason opened the door a crack and watched as Joe slowly ambled around checking doors. When he was finished, he disappeared. His sister would have supper ready, and Joe would go home for a while before coming back to wander around some more. Jason figured he had at least an hour, but he wouldn’t need that long. He jogged downstairs, put on leather gloves and jimmied the lock on Michael’s music store. His conscience pinged, but only a little. Now that he knew how much more there was to the man, he was determined to form a complete picture and have his questions answered. If Michael had anything to do with the dead protester, Jason wanted to find out. He wouldn’t be able to use it in court, but he didn’t care right now. He felt as if he were suffering some sort of mental break. All he could think about was finding the truth about Michael. If he did that, he magically believed he might find Lacy. Did he think Michael knew where Lacy was? Yes. Somewhere along the way, he had come to that conclusion. Michael was the last person to see Lacy at the hospital. Michael had brought the protesters to town. Michael was the person who had suggested where to find Lacy in the baseball shed. Michael was the key to everything.

  The door popped. He slipped inside, took out his flashlight, and held it in his mouth. He might not know exactly how to break in somewhere, but thanks to all the idiots he had arrested over the years, he knew what not to do. Not being drunk or high was already a step in the right direction toward not getting caught. Not being stupid was another. Being careful was even better. He would leave no prints; he would get in and back out again without leaving a trace. Thanks to his OCD tendencies, he would successfully rearrange everything as he had found it, maybe better. He would have to hold himself back from fixing any messy organizational mistakes. Maybe if he was caught and lost his job, he might have a career as a burglar. He wouldn’t steal anything; he would simply break in and clean up.

  Michael’s workspace was tidier than his disheveled appearance would indicate. In fact, the only mistakes Jason found in his files was a misspelling of mandolin and a folder about banjos in front of the one about bands. He made a quick search of the desk and found nothing incriminating outside of a dubiously vast taste in music. If he was the criminal mastermind Jason thought him to be, how could he have left no trail? Of course, the more likely culprit for incriminating evidence was his house, but Jason couldn’t search there because Michael was home; he had ascertained during a reconnaissance drive by.

  After the desk, he moved on to some filing cabinets. They were filled with vintage records. He was just about to stick his hand inside one of the covers to make sure they were records when the lights flipped on. Jason looked up, caught and hoping to see Joe.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I thought it would happen long before now,” Michael said. “You’ve held off searching my things for a tolerably long time. You must have more patience than most.”

  “Where’s Lacy?” Jason asked.

  “That’s the million dollar question,” Michael said.

  Jason tossed aside the record and stepped in front of the desk. Michael took a step inside and closed the door. Tension crackled between them. A fight loomed, and Jason was more than ready.

  “Suppose you tell me what this was about. Why now?” Michael asked. He took another step forward. Jason matched him and drew a step closer on his side.

  “You told me where to find Lacy last time.”

  “Lucky guess,” Michael said.

  “I don’t believe in luck, not from a stranger who has no good reason to know about the ball fields,” Jason said.

  “Except that I like to hit to relax. Baseball’s the great American pastime, or so the saying goes.”

  “You were the last person who saw Lacy this morning.”

  “I doubt that. There were people everywhere,” Michael said. “A hospital is a crowded place. I saw Lacy. She was eating pudding like the world was about to end. We had a pleasant conversation wherein she thought I was Ina Garten. She kept asking me for my roasted chicken recipe. I gleaned some amusement from her delusional state, and then I left.”

  “No,” Jason said.

  “No?” Michael echoed. “You don’t believe me?”

  Jason shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have your record.”

  “Ah,” Michael said. “That. I was wondering when we would get to that. I’m surprised it hasn’t come up before now.”

  “You were arrested for murder,” Jason said.

  “Arrested, but not convicted,” Michael pointed out. “After the uncomfortable accusations, I thought it would be better to leave Minnesota.”

  “You wound up here. Why?”

  Michael shrugged. “Why does anyone wind up anywhere? Destiny? Fate? Chance?”

  “You sound like Rain,” Jason accused. “She came here because of you.”

  “She came here because she’s crazy,” Michael said.

  “If you knew she was crazy, why did you ask her out?”

  “Since when is being attracted to crazy a crime? I have questionable taste in women.”

  “Which brings us back to Lacy,” Jason said.

  “Your words, not mine,” Michael said, holding up his hands in surrender. Jason tensed at the gesture, preparing to leap aside in case he delivered a blow. Michael seemed to realize and gave him a sheepish smile. “I have no cause to hit you, mate. These fists are for defense only.”

  “A lover, not a fighter,” Jason said.

  “My reputation precedes me,” Michael said.

  “You still haven’t answered my questions,” Jason said.

  “You haven’t asked them,” Michael said.

  “What is your interest in Lacy?” Jason asked.

  “She’s a friend. She’s my landlord. We have similar interests,” Michael said.<
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  “Did you know the protester who was killed?”

  “I saw him around. He tried to sneak into the building a few times. I chased him away,” Michael said.

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, but he was overtly interested in Lacy.”

  “A common theme,” Jason said.

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree there,” Michael said.

  “I don’t think so. Something’s been going on with you and her since you moved here.”

  “It’s called friendship,” Michael said.

  “No. I know friendship, and that’s not it. There’s something more. I’ve been to the community meetings. I would rather have my eyes gouged out. The only reason I go is for Lacy. No one hangs around community meetings for friendship.”

  “Those would be the similar interests I was referring to. Community development, that’s my thing.”

  “I thought crime was your thing,” Jason said.

  Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Youthful indiscretions. I’m on the straight and narrow.”

  Jason took another step closer. He wanted to look Michael in the eye, to read him and see if he was lying. Michael did the same until only a foot of space was between them. “Are you going to ask me to dance?” Michael said.

  “No,” Jason said, and then he punched him in the face. Rather, he would have punched him in the face, but Michael had good reflexes. He ducked and wrenched Jason’s arm behind his back in one smooth motion. Jason hadn’t fought with anyone since high school. Then he’d had good reason. Now he had no idea why he wanted to beat Michael’s face in; he just did. All the frustration, worry, anxiety, and tension bubbled out of him and demanded release. Michael knew more than he was telling. Jason was sure of it. He wanted the truth, even if he had to punch it out of him, but beating someone up wasn’t as easy as he remembered. Most of his training had gone into defensive maneuvers. It wasn’t in his nature to attack someone for no apparent reason. He was out of control, and the more he let go, the more he liked the feeling.

  They wrestled for a while, each one landing a few good blows. Jason would be sore and bruised tomorrow. Right now the blows felt cathartic, the best sort of stress reliever. For a moment, Michael had the advantage. He was on top, Jason’s face mashed to the floor, his arms pinned behind his back. “Calm down,” Michael said.

  Had that phrase ever worked in the history of mankind? When someone was irate and losing all sense of reason “calm down” was the worst possible thing to say. This case was no exception. The words fueled Jason’s anger to the point where he broke free and pinned Michael. Unlike Jason, Michael was face up. Jason was just about to smash a fist into his freckles when Michael spoke again. This time the words worked like magic.

  “I’m not in love with Lacy,” he said.

  Jason’s fist hovered and halted. “You are.”

  “No, you are. If you promise not to break my nose, I’ll explain.”

  “Explain what?” Jason asked.

  “The way it is,” Michael said.

  “What are you talking about?” Jason asked. He eased away and dropped his fist. Maybe it was a ploy, but he didn’t get the sense Michael was about to spring on him. Maybe because he sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees as if they were in the middle of a deep, philosophical chat.

  “I’m not in love with Lacy,” Michael reiterated.

  “That’s not possible.”

  Michael dropped his head to his knees and banged it a couple of times. “Save me from the lovelorn. Just because you’re in love with her doesn’t mean the rest of the world is. Did you ever think that you’re viewing her through different lenses than the rest of us mere mortals?”

  “No,” Jason said.

  “I’m telling you that’s the case. You think everyone feels the same about her that you do, but they don’t. I don’t.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Jason said, defensive now.

  “Nothing. She’s perfectly lovely. I’m honest enough to admit that when I first saw her, I was intrigued. But I thought her innocence was a front. I believed no one who looks like she does could be so guileless. She must be false.”

  “She’s not,” Jason interjected, absurdly angry all over again. First he was upset because he thought Michael was in love with her, and now he was upset because he wasn’t. What was wrong with him? He was acting like an out of control idiot, like the worst sort of cop. And at the moment, he couldn’t care less.

  “After trying and failing to provoke her into dropping the façade, I realized that she was genuine. Then for a bit, I did fancy myself in love with her. She was different than anyone I’d ever met. I was a bit captivated by that. So I kissed her.”

  “What? When did that happen?” Jason said.

  “I believe it was when you were in the hospital,” Michael said.

  “I was nearly bleeding to death and you tried to steal my girlfriend?”

  “She wasn’t your girlfriend then, but yes, I did. And it wasn’t good. There was nothing there. That was when I realized that the odd sort of attachment I have to Lacy isn’t love, at least not the romantic sort. Rather I feel a sort of protectiveness for her that I’ve never experienced. Lacy needs a bit more looking after than most, and we’re friends. It’s nice to have the sort of friend you can count on in a pinch. I like to annoy her because it’s fun to see her riled, but I genuinely care for her, and I believe she cares for me. Having that type of relationship with a woman is new for me.”

  Jason stared at him, dubious.

  “I can tell you don’t believe me,” Michael said. “But the truth of it is that if I wanted her, there’s nothing you could do to stop me. I would pursue her, and I’d have her. The fact that I don’t pursue her should tell you I’m not lying.”

  “You flirt with her,” Jason accused.

  “I also breathe and have a Y chromosome. Combined, those things make me a living male.”

  “What do you know about the protesters?” Jason asked.

  “Just what I’ve told you. I had a date with Rain. When it ended, I planned never to see her again. Imagine my chagrin when she showed up here. Some women can’t take a hint.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” Jason said at last. The evidence against Michael was compelling, albeit circumstantial.

  “If it helps, I told Lacy about the murder arrest. I’m shocked she didn’t tell you. And, honestly, I’m rather heartened by her loyalty,” Michael said.

  “Does she know the other stuff?” Jason asked.

  Michael looked down, quiet for a few beats. “No. I would prefer that she doesn’t; in fact, I would prefer that no one here knows. I came here to get away.”

  “So, as far as she’s concerned, you’re Michael O’Donnell, innocent musician from Minnesota,” Jason said.

  “I suppose that’s a fair assessment.”

  “And you of all people feel compelled to protect her. That’s like the fox guarding the hen house.”

  “I’m turning over a new leaf. So sue me.”

  They sat in silence a few minutes. Jason’s chest was still heaving, a testament to their recent brawl. As his mind began to clear, he was horrified by his behavior. He had broken into a shop and fought with its owner. Michael could sue him; he could have his badge. Unless he was guilty, in which case Jason had rightfully targeted a murderer. His instinct, which had heretofore been so sure of Michael’s guilt, now told him the man was innocent. The duality proved how little his gut could be trusted. He needed facts, cold, hard facts. He could take Michael in and question him, but then everyone would know what had happened. There was no way to explain what he had done tonight.

  Michael sat quietly with a vague sort of smile. He seemed to understand Jason’s conundrum. Worse, Jason was now dependent on the man’s silence. What if he was a killer? How would that play out? The situation was a mess, and it was a mess of his own making. Why had he been such a hotheaded moron? He was the worst sort of fool, and he had nothing to show for it. H
e wasn’t any closer to solving the murder or finding Lacy. Instead he was now a few steps closer to the unemployment line. He couldn’t think, and part of the problem was the incessant clanging coming from the wall.

  “What is that noise?” he asked, mashing a hand over his ear.

  “The pipes,” Michael said.

  “Do they always do that?” Jason asked. If so, it was a wonder the man hadn’t gone stark raving mad.

  “No,” Michael said. His face morphed into a puzzled frown. He got up and put his hand on the pipe. “It’s vibrating a little; I don’t think it’s clogged.”

  “Would a clog cause that clanging noise?” Jason asked. A small part of his brain noted the insanity of discussing plumbing problems when so many more pressing issues awaited them. On the other hand, it was nice to be able to focus on something innocuous, on a problem with a possible solution.

  “No,” Michael said. “It’s almost rhythmic. It’s almost like…” He paused, listening. For both of them, it registered at the same moment. The tapping wasn’t from the sound of water rushing through the pipe. The tapping was from someone who was actually tapping on the pipe.

  They raced up the stairs, following the pipe to the second floor. Nothing was there. On the third floor, the pipe was locked in one of the doctor’s offices. Jason was prepared to break in again, but Michael held him back.

  “Let’s check the fourth floor before we do anything rash,” he said. “And if we do anything rash, let me do it. No offense mate, but your burgling skills are not up to par.”

  They jogged up to the fourth floor and flipped on the lights. The makeshift bathroom door was open, but Jason stepped inside anyway.

  “Empty,” Michael said, turning in a slow circle in the vast space.

  “Where’s the pipe?” Jason said. He stared at the wall where it should be, but it wasn’t there. Instead a small soffit stood out from the brick wall, covering the pipe. He walked forward and looked at it. “Where’s the opening to get to the pipe?”