by Leslie Leigh
“Did you contact the girl’s parents?” Mom asked, hovering in the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, I did. They’re in Davison, down near Flint. They’re on their way to ID the body.”
“How terrible for them,” I shook my head. “Are you meeting them at the hospital?”
“No, Jimmy’s handling that. He’s also rounding up all the treatment paperwork, and they’re rushing an autopsy for us, so he’ll get the preliminary results from that, too. We just want to cover our bases and see what the body of the deceased has to tell us.”
“Does the deceased have a name?” I asked. Mom stepped into the room and steadied herself on the china hutch.
Michael consulted his notepad again. “Amanda Holt.” Michael spoke as if he were reciting an old rhyme. “Amanda Holt was killed by a bolt, killed by a bolt was she.”
I punched his arm, and Mom made a disgusted clucking sound. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that he was adopted,” she scowled.
“Sorry,” Michael quipped, holding his arm. “Gallows humor. It relieves pressure. No disrespect for the dead intended. Anyway, I think we lucked out having the personnel manager on the scene. He should be able to provide information about everyone there, and that should be helpful.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re involved,” I said. “Hopefully, Jimmy will be able to observe your methods and pick up some things from you. Other than your sense of humor, of course.”
“Sure, sure,” Michael replied, getting up and patting his full belly. “I’ll double-up with him as much as possible, and I promise to be nice, Sis. I feel sorry for the guy, actually.”
I, too, felt a degree of sympathy toward Jimmy, but also had more faith in his potential than did Michael, apparently. All Jimmy needed was some experience and positive support.
“You wait and see, Michael. Deputy Jimmy just might surprise you.”
“Yeah? Well, my expectations are pretty low, so you may be right.”
I attempted another shot at his arm, but Michael successfully blocked me.
“You two settle down,” Mom scolded. “What have I told you about rough-housing? Keep it up and you’ll be taking turns across my knee!”
That got a big laugh from us, with Mom eventually joining in. Mom was right: murder seemed to bring our family closer together.
Chapter 11
The next day, I decided to take a stroll around Main Street. My primary destination was, of course, the police station, but the parking area was empty. I was tempted to stop by Freeman’s, but owing to a bit of difficulty squeezing into a pair of slacks that morning, I thought it prudent not to make his treats a part of my daily diet.
I did, however, see that Donovan’s Restaurant was gearing up for the season. A linen service van was parked outside, and a young man was carrying one of those hinged signs. He set the sign to the side of the entrance, and I crossed the street to read that their reopening was tonight.
This was great news. As much as I enjoyed Burger’s restaurant, a little variety was always welcome. Donovan’s featured a mix of Asian, Mexican and Italian meals, while Burger’s menu was pretty much standard American fare, mostly sandwiches and…burgers, of course!
As Margaret was preparing to leave to start her shift at the police department, I asked if she would call me when Jimmy returned to the station. It was a slow day, so I was soon checking the latest on Amanda Holt’s death. I was curious what nuggets of information Peter Proctor might have unearthed.
Now that the family had been notified, Amanda’s name and photo had been released. Her picture looked like a formal portrait, perhaps a graduation photo. She had a pretty smile and looked like the girl next door, possibly a little heavyset. She looked nothing as I’d imagined when I read the escort ad, if indeed she and the mysterious Alexandra were one and the same.
She’d graduated from Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo four years ago, earning a bachelor’s in Political Science with “a concentration in Public Policy. Ms. Holt was most recently an employee of Cooke Paper Products, headquartered in Crawford, Michigan, where she worked in the accounting department.”
Wow. Surely that’s not what she had in mind for a career path when she graduated “with honors” from Western? I knew the job market was tough for recent grads, but….
Well, we do what we must. In Amanda’s case, did that include creating an online alter ego to make ends meet with a tax-free sideline? There are plenty of young people out there beating the streets with undergraduate degrees or higher lining up for job openings at Walmarts and 7-11s. Maybe Amanda was a realist as well as an entrepreneur. After all, if you’re going to be stuck in a job you hate, why not choose something that pays well?
Of course, I still wasn’t sure my hunch regarding Amanda/Alexandra was correct. Okay, they were both blond, 26 years old, and had a connection to Cat, but that was all circumstantial. That was why I hadn’t mentioned anything about this to Michael. I didn’t want to muddy the water of his investigation with my speculation. But it might also shed some light on what happened.
I wondered if Cat would level with me about what went on that night. She surely didn’t reveal everything she knew about Amanda, or in what activities she might be involved, and I doubt that she planned to bare her soul once Michael got around to interviewing her. I wasn’t sure that Cat’s and my relationship was solid enough for her to entrust me with her secrets, but I was determined to try.
Just before closing time, the telephone rang. It was Cat.
“Melody, can you talk?” Her voice was slightly hushed, slightly slurred and very edgy. “Listen, I just got a message from a Detective Michael Reed from the State Police wanting to speak with me. Isn’t he your brother?”
“Yes, he is. Are you alright, Cat?” She was sniffling and her voice sounded thick with phlegm, as if she had a severe cold. She began coughing, and I could tell she was puffing on a cigarette. Sure, that’ll help.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I took the day off; otherwise, your brother would’ve found me at work.” She paused, sniffling. “Melody, am I in some kind of trouble?” She began sobbing. “’Cause I already told Officer Jimmy everything I knew. Why does a State Police detective want to talk with me? What is it that he wants?”
“It’s just routine, Cat,” I assured her. “Any time there’s a hunting accident, especially when it results in a death, the State Police get involved.”
“Well, should I get a lawyer? ‘Cause I checked my benefit folder and it says that the company provides free legal assistance.”
“It’s always a good idea to have a lawyer with you when you’re charged with a crime, Cat. But you haven’t been charged with anything. You’re a witness.”
“I know, but I’m scared,” she wailed. “I’m afraid I’ll say something wrong and get myself in trouble. I’ve got a daughter to care for, Melody, you know that. I can’t let anything happen to her!”
Cat had worked herself up into frenzy. What was she talking about? What was she worried about? Did she think that she would be blamed for the killing, or that she would be sent to prison? Why? She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly, and I wondered if she’d been drinking.
“Cat, I want you to stop worrying. That doesn’t help. You need to think clearly so you can speak clearly when you talk to Michael. Are you planning on going into work tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. Probably not. I’ve got sick days up the wazoo. Plus Molly’s upset, too. It would be best if she stayed home until Monday.”
I heard Molly’s voice in the background. “Mom, is that Miss Melody?”
“Hush when Mommy’s on the phone!” Cat hissed. “What should I do, Melody? What if I don’t call your brother back? What will he do?”
“I imagine he’ll show up at your door if he can’t reach you by phone. Look, Michael will understand if he doesn’t hear from you tonight. Just tell him you forgot to check your messages, or your phone’s been having problems. But understand that he has to speak with you while
everything’s fresh in your mind. Michael has to gather information quickly so he can put it all together. I’d suggest you call him first thing in the morning and arrange a meeting.
Cat sniffed and puffed. She seemed to have calmed down. “Thanks, Melody. I knew you could help. Say, I don’t suppose you’d care to stop by my place tonight, would you? I’d really like to talk some more about all of this.”
“Give me your address,” I said. Was she planning on picking my brains, trying to formulate some sort of strategy? Given her duplicitous nature as a secretary-by-day/call-girl-by-night, I suspected that Cat would rather concoct some elaborate cover-up rather than to rely on the truth. That was fine with me. I was planning to pick her brains, too.
Chapter 12
“Do you mind if we sit on the porch?” Cat asked, meeting me as I walked up her sidewalk. “That way I can smoke. Would you like a beer?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m not driving.” Cat lived in a small cottage three blocks from the library, so there was no need to go home after work and retrieve my car. The front yard looked patchy, but the house appeared to be well kept. At least the outside did; I inadvertently glimpsed clutter and clothes strewn on the couch as I took a seat by a window.
“Molly! Get Miss Melody a beer, please.” Cat didn’t seem to be too far-gone as she walked along the porch, finally settling into a chair across from me. “Just so you know, I don’t usually drink alone, but I’ve just been so worked up about everything. It calms my nerves.”
“I understand” I replied, trying to avoid sounding judgmental. “Nice place you have here.”
The screen door swung open, and out walked Molly, carrying a can of Bud in one hand and a book in the other. I thanked her and asked how she was doing.
“Fine,” she smiled, slightly apprehensively, as if I’d asked if she’d brushed her teeth before bed. “Would you like me to read you a story?”
“Oh, not tonight, Molly. Your mother and I are visiting.” Molly wore lavender pajamas and looked so cute. Her mop of reddish hair was wet and tangled-looking.
“That’s right, honey,” Cat concurred. “Why don’t you go and watch that new movie Mama bought you?”
“I’ve already watched it three times,” Molly whined.
“Then watch something else.” Cat turned to me. “That kid’s got a DVD collection that would put your library to shame.” Looking back at Molly, she motioned with her hand. “Go on. Shoo!”
Molly reluctantly trudged back inside. I felt the cold can in my hand and swallowed my pride along with the beer. It was cold, carbonated and tasteless.
“Yeah, it was a terrible night, last night,” she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Wouldn’t want to go through that again. Doubt I’ll ever go hunting again, either,” she winked.
I angled my chair so that we were face-to-face. “So what happened out there, Cat?”
She flashed a cagey smirk. “Is this like a pre-interview you’re doing for your brother?”
I didn’t blink. “No. It’s just a question. Or did you want to talk about something else?”
“I’m sorry. That jackass reporter – the one who wrote that article on you? – Peter Parker, Peter Pepper…he’s called three times and came by the house once. I told him to buzz off. The last time he called, I told him I might talk to him, but only if he’d paid for exclusive rights to my story.”
How crass. I knew she was tipsy, but still…. “Did that scare him off?”
“Must have.” She waved her can in the air, flinging some suds onto the porch. “He’s not here!”
I was beginning to think this had been a very bad idea. I took a bigger sip and waited.
“It started out pretty cool,” she began. “Justin and I were getting along. He’s always on my case about something.”
“Like drinking?” I asked, not caring if she was offended. At that moment, I was thinking about Molly more than Cat’s feelings.
“Yeah, and if not that, then something else. Anyway, we were getting along okay. Molly was excited. It was really nice being out in the woods. Mr. Cooke lets employees sign up to use the grounds during hunting season. He’s not out there, so we don’t bother him. He’s got other properties; he probably owns half the county. Anyway, it was real nice. Good weather. We got there around 10:00 and just walked around for a while. We were going to have some lunch and then try our luck.”
Cat sipped her beer, looking off as if she could see the previous day unfold before her. I waited until she focused again.
“We were all using crossbows. Everybody. Oh, yeah, later that morning, other people started showing up. First that guy from HR, Bob Christian. He was all talky and I was thinking, like, what does he think this is? Summer camp? Like we’re all going to go on a safari together? Hey, I was there with my boyfriend and my kid, thank you. Do you mind if we just enjoy our day? It’s not like this was some mandatory company function or something.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then her mood softened. “Bob’s not a bad guy, really. Maybe it was just all in my mind. He was just trying to be friendly. Do you need another beer? Molly!”
“No, thanks,” I gasped, mid-swig. “I’ve hardly dented it.”
“Never mind,” she called out, and Molly did an about-face in the doorway, disappearing again. “Where was I?”
“So Bob Christian was the first one to show?”
“Oh, yeah. And then that big doofus Max Colopy showed up. Him, I didn’t know, but I could tell he was trouble. Didn’t say a word to anybody. He looked like someone had peed in his Wheaties and now he was having reflux! He parked and hauled out a case of beer and a fifth of Wild Turkey and commenced getting ‘faced.’ I didn’t want to be around someone like that and I sure didn’t want my kid to be around. Not with weapons around.”
“You said everyone was using crossbows?” I asked.
“Yeah. The company gave us loaners. Mr. Cooke is a real outdoorsman, and if you don’t have the equipment, he’ll provide it. But that Colopy character had a pistol tucked in his belt, plus a knife on his belt, like he was prepared for anything! Just an angry, paranoid redneck!”
“And Amanda?”
“Oh, yeah,” she replied, as if Amanda were a vague afterthought. “She must have shown up after lunch. We were out hiking around, so I didn’t see her arrive. But when we started back, we could hear yelling and language that made me want to cover Molly’s ears! It was Max and Amanda going at it. He was all red-faced and calling her all kinds of filthy names, but she wasn’t backing down. She stood on her cabin porch and gave him a piece of her mind.”
“What were they arguing about?” I asked.
“Oh, he thought she’d parked too close to his car and was blocking him in. I mean, there are four little cabins out there on all that property, plenty of room. It was silly. I think he was upset because he knew that a girl like her wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy like him. I don’t know, maybe he’d offered her a drink and she shot him down. Something like that might have started it. But he wouldn’t let it go. ‘You think you’re better than me! You’re nothing but a cheap blankety-blank!’ Finally, Amanda went in the cabin and slammed the door.
“Then he turned on us. ‘What are you looking at? You want trouble?’ Now, Justin works with this guy, but he doesn’t really know him. Just knows about him. He’s a brawler. That’s, like, his hobby. He beats people up: big guys, small guys, women, probably kids, too. Real tough guy. So Justin just grabs me and Molly, and we go inside, figuring he’ll eventually cool down or pass out. Man, I was tempted to call one of the security guys, but I think they were just there to check IDs, and they were about a mile or two down the road from us.”
“And where was Bob when this was going on?” I asked.
“I don’t know. At first, I thought he was hiding inside his cabin, peeking out the window. But we saw him later, coming down the trail. He said he’d been out practicing with his crossbow. He’d borrowed one, too, and he wasn’t that familiar wit
h it. Said he’d only hunted once before…with Nathan Cooke. So we told him what had happened, thinking he’s management, he should know about this. Not that we wanted him to confront Max, but maybe he could do something, you know, like keep him in line.
“Well, Bob didn’t hesitate. He handed Justin his crossbow and said he’d talk to Max. We warned him that Max had a gun, and maybe he should call security, but he said it wasn’t necessary. He said he’d hired Max and he’d fire him if he had to. That took guts, if you ask me. I mean, Bob isn’t a big guy, and Max is huge! But Bob said he wasn’t going to let Max spoil everyone’s fun and off he went to Max’ cabin.
“The door opens and Max stepped out and got right up in Bob’s face. He yells, ‘What the hell do you want?’ And Bob just disappears inside and the door closes. I thought that Max snatched him up and was going to commence whupping on him, but Justin said, from his angle, it looked like Bob just walked right past Max, completely in charge.
“There was some banging around and what sounded like some scuffling, and I heard this voice, like a low growl, but I couldn’t make out any words. I told Justin to go get security, but then, just like that, the door opens and out comes Bob.
“He walks over and gets his crossbow from Justin, and says, ‘I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble. Enjoy the rest of your day,’ and walks into his cabin. I mean, he wasn’t out of breath or bruised, and his shirt was still tucked neat-as-a-pin into his slacks. It was amazing! And, sure enough, we didn’t see any more of Max until later, when I found Amanda.”
We sipped our beers in silence. I was impressed by her story. Mr. Christian must be a very persuasive person. Did he have a martial arts background, or did the mere threat of losing one’s livelihood suffice as a behavior modification method? Interesting, but I needed Cat to continue her narrative.
“And so you were the one who actually found Amanda?”
