Right. Oh well, it was nice to have Walker’s respect for fifteen seconds. “I’m still going to look into this.”
“Be my guest. But be careful, okay? You can always call me if you want me to deal with someone.”
“Yeah, sure. Oh, Ellen Myers met someone named Trudy Michaels at the spa. Michaels could have been a plant. When I search the Net, there are hundreds of Trudy Michaels.”
“So you want me to, what, get a warrant to obtain her details from the spa? Based on what? A PI having a hunch? Do you have anything solid—you know, that thing called evidence?”
“Uh, no.”
“Later.” The line went dead.
Casey stared at her phone. Walker had a way of making her feel two feet tall. Why couldn’t another detective have been sympathetic to Ellen’s plight? Why not a kind, generous detective who’d take Casey under his wing and pass down his wisdom—like on TV!
Shaking her head at herself, she typed her notes from her meeting with Street into an email, attached the scanned spa receipt, and hit Send. If the information somehow led Walker to Jackie, Walker would take all the credit. Okay, enough dumping on the detective. At least she was open to talking to the “kid detective.” Ellen’s retainer and a detective’s business card in her pocket wouldn’t be a bad haul from Casey’s first case, but finding Jackie would be sweeter.
Her phone rang. “Hello.”
“Casey Cook?” a male said.
“Yes?”
His voice became friendlier. “Hi. This is Mike Hargrave. I worked—work—with Jackie.”
“Right. Ellen Myers mentioned you,” Casey said, keeping her tone neutral.
“Sissy told me you met with her.”
“Yes.”
“I hope you don’t mind that she gave me your number. She knows I want to help.”
Hell, no, she didn’t mind. She wished she’d had time to prepare for the conversation, though. He’d caught her off guard.
“What have you found out so far?” he asked.
She suppressed a snort. Did he think she was that stupid? “Nothing that the police don’t already know. Somehow Jackie disappeared without a trace—with someone’s help.”
“No leads at all?”
“No, but I’ll keep digging.”
“Who else will you be talking to?”
“Other members of Jackie’s family,” Casey said, at the same time she realized that she hadn’t asked Ellen about aunts, uncles, and other relatives. They might know something. “They probably don’t know anything, but I like to cover all the bases.”
“And you haven’t uncovered any clues so far, eh?”
Nothing that amounted to a flashing arrow pointing to Jackie’s location, and nothing she wanted to share. “No.” For someone who wanted to help, Hargrave seemed more interested in the state of her investigation. “Do you mind answering a few questions?”
“Uh…”
“You said you wanted to help.”
“Sure, sure. Fire away.”
“Did the doctors tell you the cause for Jackie’s initial discomfort?”
“Why would they tell me? I’m not family.”
“No, but Ellen was distraught, and Sissy told me you went looking for the doctor at one point.”
Silence, then, “I was in shock. One minute she has stomach cramps, the next they’re saying she’s in a coma. I wanted to find out more, for Ellen, but they weren’t interested in talking to me. They were too busy trying to figure out what the hell happened.”
“You didn’t overhear them saying anything?”
“They wouldn’t let me into the room. One of the nurses told me Jackie was unconscious and made it clear that I was in the way.”
“Where did you go after that? Sissy doesn’t remember seeing you again.”
“I went back to the waiting area, but Sissy and Ellen were gone. So I left. The nurse was right, I was in the way. Sissy and Ellen didn’t need me hovering. I had no clue where they were, anyway, or how long they’d be.”
Something didn’t add up. Sissy had sat in the waiting room for a while, only leaving when she’d figured Mike wasn’t coming back. Mike made it sound as if he’d only left the waiting room for a few minutes. “So you went to check on Jackie, the nurse shooed you away, and when you got back to the waiting room, Sissy and Ellen weren’t there.”
“That’s right.”
“Was the party food tested?”
“What do you mean?”
“Jackie fell ill at a company party—with stomach cramps. I assume someone took a look at the food.”
“Over a hundred people were at that reception, but Jackie was the only one with cramps. It had nothing to do with the food.”
“I’ll take that to mean that nobody investigated that angle.”
Mike forcefully exhaled. “If there was something wrong with the food, we would have had an epidemic of stomach cramps on our hands. It wasn’t the food. Do you think the food is tested every time someone goes to a party and gets sick?”
No, but most people didn’t fall into a coma. He had a point, though. Since it was only one person…the health department would only be interested when a bunch of people had food poisoning, and the police when there was a reason to suspect foul play. Unfortunately, the foul play had taken place weeks later and could be unrelated to Jackie’s cramps. “How were things going at work for Jackie?”
“Fine,” Mike said flatly.
“I’m trying to get a complete picture of her life. Anything you can tell me will help. Was she having problems at work?”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“You said you wanted to help…”
“I do. But I don’t see how Jackie’s work could relate to her disappearance.” His voice hardened. “That’s what you’re investigating, isn’t it? Her disappearance. Not the party. Not her performance evaluations. No, you want to find out who the hell showed up at the hospital and took her away. I want to know that, too.”
He sounded defensive—and sincere.
“Check her personal life,” he suggested. “It has to be someone who knows her. Who else would remove her from the hospital?”
More importantly, why? And why keep Ellen in the dark? “Was she seeing anyone?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. Jackie kept to herself.”
Casey considered asking him about Jackie’s visits to security, but decided against it. Based on her conversation with Sissy, she knew he was withholding information, but he could be doing so out of loyalty to Jackie. She inwardly sighed. Did Jackie’s work have anything to do with her disappearance, or was that angle a waste of time? Either way, the reason for Jackie’s trips to the security office might have involved Mike. She didn’t want to antagonize him unless she knew for sure.
“So you’ve got nothing, eh?” Mike said, making Casey bristle.
She bit her tongue and took a deep breath. “I’m still in the early stages of my investigation. I’m gathering information.”
“Well, if you find out anything useful, let me know. I want to help. Here’s my number.”
Casey scribbled it down. At least the conversation had yielded one piece of solid information, but the only real lead she had was Street’s emails.
Chapter Seven
Yawning into her hand, Casey stopped outside the coffee shop and checked her watch again. Yep, it was just after seven, and she was already showered, dressed, and ready to hold a coherent conversation. Her stomach grumbled. Time for a coffee and Danish. She swung the door open.
When she spotted Emily behind the counter, she wanted to turn around and slink back outside. Would Emily remember her stupid remark in the van? I might be the last person she wants to see. If not for the case… Casey waited for a businessman to collect his morning coffee, and forced a smile.
Emily’s eyes widened slightly. “I normally don’t see you at this time.”
“I was hoping to run into you.”
Her brows shot up. “Really.”
“Sure. What is it?”
She eyed the jogger who’d come into the shop behind her. “It’s private. Maybe when you’re on a break?”
Emily grimaced. “The morning rush is about to start. I’ll be run off my feet until my shift is over.”
Shit, she should have realized. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. Can you come back around 8:30? We can chat then.”
“Sure. And I’ll have a coffee and two Danishes to go.”
“Raspberry and strawberry, right?” Emily bagged the Danishes and poured a coffee. After accepting the loonies and toonies Casey fished from her pocket, she made change and handed everything to Casey. “See you at 8:30.”
“See you then,” Casey said, mentally kicking herself. She should have known that Emily’s shift would be busy. If she’d thought it through, she could have called the shop last night and found out when Emily’s morning shift ended. Her body would have appreciated another hour in bed.
One raspberry Danish, two coffees, and just over an hour later, she returned to the coffee shop and waited while Emily served a couple of customers. Emily disappeared into the back and returned without her apron and hair net. “This is for me,” she said, pouring herself a coffee to go. “You want one?”
“No, thanks.” One more coffee and they’d be scraping her off the ceiling.
“Let’s go outside.”
She trailed after Emily, squinting into the morning sun until Emily whirled and quirked a brow at her. “So what did you want to ask me…in private?”
Casey had the distinct impression that Emily was holding her breath. “Well, I was wondering if—”
Emily’s phone rang. She groaned and glanced at its display. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s my sister-in-law. Hello?” Silence. “What thingie?” Emily sipped her coffee. “Is it plugged in? Okay, but what about the computer? Is it plugged into the computer?” She listened. “No! Don’t plug it in there. Look for one that matches the—okay, good.” She fell silent again. “Nothing? But you said it was working last night, right? Did you change anything, install any new software?” Another pause. “I don’t know why it won’t scan. It could be any number of reasons.” She rolled her eyes at Casey. “Look, I have to go. Why don’t you uninstall and reinstall the software, and if it still doesn’t work, give me a call and I’ll drop by later, okay? Bye.” She snapped her phone shut and shook her head. “I hate that!”
“What?”
“That! Would you see a gynecologist for your heart?”
Was this a trick question? “Uh, no.”
“Exactly. Because everyone’s specialized, right? You don’t see a cardiologist for foot problems. You don’t see a family lawyer for murder.”
Casey smiled and nodded.
“Just because I’m doing a computer degree, everyone calls me when they run into a technical problem. I study interpretive computer languages. I’m not a hardware person. I don’t work on websites. I know diddly about networks. But someone’s scanner isn’t working and I’m expected to magically know how to fix it, because I’m in computers. Someone can’t connect to the Internet—hey, call Emily. Tell Emily, ‘My game keeps crashing,’ and she’ll instantly know how to solve the problem. Have a question about one of the thousands of software programs out there? Ask Emily!” She blew out a sigh. “Don’t mind me. I only freak out at every fiftieth question. Anyway, where were we? You wanted to ask me something.”
“Uh, yeah.” Question number fifty-one, apparently. Forget about asking her to look at the emails. Casey would end up wearing Emily’s coffee. She shifted her weight. “You know what? It’s not important. Let’s forget about it.”
Emily smiled coyly. “Come on, don’t chicken out now. You’ve come this far.”
“No, it’s okay.”
Her face fell. She looked disappointed…really disappointed. What had she thought—wait a minute. Did Emily think…shit! She’d never dinged Casey’s gaydar. Casey cleared her throat and stared at Emily. No, she must have it wrong. Even if they did bat for the same team, Emily wouldn’t be interested, and she’d never turned Casey’s crank either—mainly because Casey hadn’t looked. Emily was kind of cute—and a freaking computer genius. No, this line of thought was nuts. She needed more sleep. Getting up at an ungodly hour had addled her mind. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily mumbled. She pulled a key from her pocket and gestured toward a nearby sedan. “I have to go, or I’ll be late for class. See you around, okay?” She turned away.
“Yeah, sure,” Casey said, dismayed by Emily’s flat tone and her haste to get to her car. She felt like a first class asshole. What harm would having a friendly meal with Emily do? The moment she told Emily what she did for a living—ha! Was trying to do for a living—Emily would wonder why the hell she’d ever been interested, and that was if Casey was reading the situation correctly. Emily could be as straight as an arrow. Maybe she’d thought…what? That Casey was going to hand her a wad of cash, or a winning lottery ticket, or tell her she’d won a new car? If she hadn’t expected Casey to ask her out, then what else—
A car engine roared to life. Casey snapped out of it. “Emily!” She jumped up and down and flailed her arms in the air, then ran to the car and rapped on the driver’s window. Emily lowered it and looked up at her. Casey swallowed. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”
A smile split Emily’s face. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Really? I mean, sure. Okay. When is good for you?”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Sure. We could, well, there’s that restaurant on, uh…” The street name eluded her frozen brain. God, why were the crinkles at the corners of Emily’s eyes suddenly making her knees go weak?
“Why don’t you meet me here at 6:30?” Emily said calmly. “I don’t think we need to go anywhere swanky that requires a reservation.”
Casey’s wallet certainly didn’t.
“We can decide tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Casey shoved her hands into her pockets. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”
“Yeah, I should get to class. I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow night.”
“Me too,” Casey said, knowing she had a silly grin on her face. She waved as Emily pulled out of the parking spot, and kept waving until she could no longer see the car. Shit! She didn’t have Emily’s phone number. What if something related to the case came up and Casey couldn’t make it tomorrow? Why hadn’t Emily asked for her phone number? What if she turned out to be another Leah and blabbed on about herself all night? What if it was another audition? What if Emily was laughing right now about the big joke she’d just played on the idiot who thought they’d be going on a date?
Okay, first, why would Emily play a cruel prank on one of the coffee shop’s customers? Second, why was Casey freaking out about tomorrow’s dinner not being real, or not being able to make it, when having dinner hadn’t been on her radar five minutes ago? Third, why couldn’t she stop smiling?
When she unlocked her apartment door and stepped into the hallway, she thought she’d got the grinning under control, but the moment she saw Gran, she smiled again.
Gran looked up from buttering her toast. “You look pleased with yourself.”
“I think I’m going on a date tomorrow.”
“What?”
Casey sighed and moved closer to the table. “I think I’m going out on a date tomorrow,” she said loudly.
“You think?”
“You know Emily at the coffee shop?”
Gran nodded and bit into her toast.
“I just asked her to have dinner with me tomorrow, but I’m not sure it’s a date. I might have misread everything.”
Nodding, Gran chewed furiously, then swallowed. “It’s a date,” she said.
Casey folded her arms. “How do you know?”
“I told her you’re a lesbian.”
“What?” Casey shrieked. “Why? When?”
“You forgot who and where.”
“I already know the answers to those.” Casey pulled out a chair and plunked into it. “Why the hell would you tell her I’m a lesbian?”
“Because every time I see her, she asks about you. I’m not slow, you know.” Gran raised her eyebrows. “You are, though.”
As opposed to Gran, who sometimes took an early morning walk, Casey had rarely crossed paths with Emily since she’d switched to the morning shift. “Jesus, Gran, you could have told me. How did you slip it into the conversation? You didn’t just bluntly put it out there, did you?” She imagined Emily asking what Gran would like to order, and Gran responding, “Casey’s a lesbian.” “Please tell me you subtly worked it into a conversation when it made sense.”
Gran’s face tightened. “Give me some credit, for Christ’s sake.” She took another bite of her toast and slowly chewed it.
Knowing Gran was intentionally trying to irritate her, Casey tried not to fidget, but finally blurted, “Come on, tell me!”
“You young people have no patience,” Gran grumbled. “A few months ago—”
“A few months? She’s known for a few months?”
“She asked whether you had a boyfriend. I said, no, she’s a lesbian. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Did she ask if I had a girlfriend?”
Gran shook her head. “I told her you haven’t had one for ages, though.”
“Well, thank you. Thank you very much!”
“What? It’s the truth.”
An embarrassing truth.
“It didn’t stop her from agreeing to have dinner with you,” Gran said, her eyes on Casey’s face.
“I suppose so,” Casey mumbled.
“You’ll thank me at the wedding.”
“Wedding! We’re going out for dinner.” And she wasn’t sure how she felt about Emily. Surprise was fuelling her anticipation, more than anything. It wasn’t love at first sight; it was more “Emily seems pleasant, so why not?”
“That’s what I said when I first started dating your grandfather. It’s only dinner. And now look. That dinner led to you sitting on that chair.” Gran waved her half-eaten piece of toast at Casey. “Emily’s a nice girl. You always choose losers.”
The Missing Comatose Woman Page 8
