Murder Among Friends (The Kate Austen Mystery Series)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  Unfortunately, I could fancy it all too well. Wouldn’t a teacher be a logical place to start if you suspected a child was being molested? Before I could ask her about it though, the bell rang and she was off to gather her flock.

  I made a mental note to call her later, then trudged out to my car with the class picture, which I’d promised to frame, and an armload of supplies. I set them in the back with great care. The last thing my car needed was a multicolor interior.

  It had been raining off and on again all morning, but as soon as I started for home the sky opened up. Water pounded the windshield in sheets, sometimes so thick the wipers had trouble keeping pace. Shivering, I turned up the heat. On the radio, the soft swoosh of waves punctuated a poetic delivery of magical names. “Maui, Kauai, the beaches of Waikiki,” the voice purred. “Sound too good to be true?”

  Definitely, I said to myself.

  “Experience the paradise of Hawaii, now more affordable than ever.”

  Dream on, buster. I reached over and switched stations. Running an ad like that at the height of the rainy season might be good marketing, but it was exasperating as hell to those of us with no means of escape. Still, I allowed myself one fleeting vision of white sand, blue water, and warm sun. The man was right about one thing. It was paradise.

  I swung by home long enough to change clothes and wash away the paint from under my nails, then I headed to a small gallery that specialized in animal prints. I was going to make one last stab at finding something which would appeal to Dr. Caulder, and then call it quits.

  In a moment of inspiration, I’d remembered the polar bears. I’d stumbled across the piece months ago—an embossed print of two cubs frolicking on ice. White on white, exactly what I’d been thinking about from the start. I was hoping it hadn’t been sold in the interim.

  It hadn’t. As I filled out the forms, I gave silent thanks to my lucky star. I wrapped the picture in heavy paper and then in plastic, placed it in the back of my car, and headed for her office.

  When I pulled into the parking garage, Dr. Caulder was just arriving herself.

  “Such veather,” she exclaimed, shaking her head with disapproval. “I do not like all dtees cold.”

  At last, there was something we agreed on. Maybe it was a sign. “I’ve got the picture right here,” I told her. “I think you’re really going to like this one. It fits with everything you’ve been telling me so far. I’ll bring it up to your office right now.”

  She glanced at her watch impatiently. “I can look at it here, no need to traipse up and down again.” She didn’t add “for nothing,” but that’s what her tone implied.

  While Dr. Caulder tapped her sensible brown walking shoe against the pavement, I pulled out the picture and unwrapped it. By now my earlier optimism had all but vanished.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “Yes,” Dr. Caulder exclaimed suddenly. “Yes, yes, yes. Oh my, it’s perfect.”

  I took a moment to savor the words, then looked up at her and smiled. Only Dr. Caulder’s eyes were not directed to the polar bear cubs, but rather to the globs of green and brown from my morning’s session with the kindergartners.

  “That? It’s not, um ... it’s really a ...”

  She stepped closer and peered at me over the tops of her glasses. “Vhat? It ees too expensive?”

  “No, not that It’s just that it... belongs to a friend of mine. I’m not sure it’s for sale.”

  “You’ll ask? Please.”

  I nodded. Kindergartners were an unpredictable lot. I thought they’d probably go for the money—and fame, I’d be sure to sell them on that aspect—but I wasn’t banking on it just yet. “Now, about this other piece,” I said, turning slightly to give her a better perspective on the bear cubs.

  She shook her head. I’m not sure whether she actually wrinkled her nose (Dr. Caulder didn’t strike me as the nose-wrinkling type), but that was the impression I got. “Dogs?” she said. “Vhy vould I vant dogs?”

  “They’re not—”

  But she’d already turned her back and started for the elevator.

  <><><>

  The answering machine was blinking away when I got home. I put water on for coffee, then hit play. The first call was from someone named Albert informing me I’d been selected to receive three month’s pool maintenance absolutely free. A dynamite deal, if I’d been blessed with a pool. The second message consisted of a mumbled, “Oh shit,” which I recognized as shorthand for “I got the wrong number.” My third caller was the fastidious-voiced male who advises me almost daily that if I wish to make a call, I should hang up and try again. It makes me wonder what Max does when he’s home alone. The final message was from Eve Fisher who apologized for not getting back to me sooner. She’d been out of town, she explained, and had only just returned.

  After I made myself a cup of coffee, I returned the call, reluctantly. Why in the world had I ever tried reaching her in the first place? I couldn’t imagine what I’d been thinking.

  “Hi, you don’t know me, but I hear your husband threatened Mona Sterling. Did he also kill her?” It was hardly the way to introduce yourself to a stranger. At least things had progressed to the point that I wouldn’t have to work my way through that.

  I was hoping Eve would be out. I’d leave a brief message and be done with it. Unfortunately, she was in. I took a little poetic license with the truth, explaining that I was a friend of Mona’s and that I’d called to let Eve know about the memorial service. The timing of the original call was one day off, but I thought it unlikely she was going to figure that out.

  “How kind of you,” she said. Her voice was thin and high-pitched, like a young girl’s. “I just heard the news yesterday when we got back into town from a two-week cruise. What a shock. And I feel so bad about—” I heard a door slam on Eve’s end and a male voice in the background. “About everything,” she concluded hastily. “And I’m so sorry I missed the service.”

  “Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

  There was a brief pause. “You say you were a friend of Ms. Sterling’s?”

  “Yes. More a friend of a—”

  “Could we, uh, maybe get together, for coffee or something? Right now is not a good time for me to talk.”

  “There’s really nothing—”

  “Please. I feel so bad that I never explained... I mean, I tried to, but then, well, I didn’t, and... and now I can’t. Explain to her that is.” Eve took a deep breath. “It would help me if I could explain to somebody,” she said at last.

  “I don’t think that—”

  “How about tomorrow?” She lowered her voice. “Just for a short while. We can meet whenever you’d like.” Her tone was so heavy with need I found it difficult to refuse, though I did make another stab at it. But Eve was persistent. We agreed on a place and time, and I hung up, feeling angry with myself for not being more assertive.

  Then, in an effort to clean out the clutter of my life, I tried Mr. Erikson once more.

  “He’s gone,” the man at the desk told me. “Checked out a couple of days ago.”

  I guess he hadn’t been any too eager to reach me after all. I crumpled the sheet of paper with his number on it and tossed it into the trash.

  “He’ll probably be back,” the man continued. “Least, he was last time. You want to leave a message?”

  And play telephone tag with a traveling salesman? No thanks.

  No sooner was I off the phone than it rang again. Claire was calling to see if Anna would be interested in a playdate on Saturday. She actually used that word, “playdate,” a term I hadn’t heard since pre-nursery school days. It made me realize how little social contact Jodi had with other children.

  I don’t usually make plans for Anna without consulting her first, but since I’d just agreed to meet Eve Fisher at the very hour Claire suggested, I jumped at the chance to have my babysitting needs taken care of so easily. Besides, this was the first such overture Claire had made, a
nd if I wavered she’d probably freeze up for good.

  “That would be wonderful,” I told her. “It works out well for me, too. I’m meeting one of Mona’s students for coffee.”

  Determined to be sociable, I related the story of Eve Fisher. As usual, Claire responded in monosyllables. I tried a few other topics and didn’t get any further. Finally, I gave up.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said. “And thanks for inviting Anna.”

  “No problem,” she replied, in her usual clipped tone.

  My coffee was largely untouched and cold. I dumped it and started to make a new cup. But it was one of those days. The phone rang just as the water started to boil.

  “You free?” Michael asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “They just picked up some guy in Concord. Tried to lure a seven-year-old girl into his car. She screamed, he took off, and believe it or not, hit a goddamn garbage truck. That’s how they got him so quickly. The guy did time a couple of years ago for molesting a neighbor’s daughter. His hair’s more reddish than blond, but he does have a thin face. I thought you should take a look, just in case he’s the one you saw with Brandon.”

  Despite the cold, my skin was suddenly clammy. “I’m free,” I told him.

  “Good. I’ll swing by in about fifteen minutes.”

  Chapter 28

  Michael picked me up and we headed for Concord, a town about ten minutes east of Walnut Hills. The rain had turned to drizzle, but the sky was still dark and threatening, the wind given to sudden, explosive gusts. It was the kind of heavy, gray day that chills the spirit and casts sinister shadows on even the most innocuous thoughts. Not that my mind needed any help along those lines.

  When we got to the police station, Michael went off to confer with someone named Denny while I sat on the vinyl bench in the reception area and listened to my heart bang against my ribs. What if this man actually was the one I’d seen with Brandon, the one who’d approached Anna and her friends? What did it all mean?

  And what if it had been Anna he’d tried to kidnap instead of this girl today. Would Anna have been as lucky? Though I tried not to, I found my mind dwelling, as it had countless times before, on the stark terror of having your child disappear, of never knowing what suffering she’d endured, or was enduring still.

  Mercifully, Michael reappeared before I had a chance to work myself into a full-fledged panic. He ushered me through a set of double doors and introduced me to Denny, a burly man with a chipmunk face. I followed them down the hallway to a small, interior room. A dark shade covered half of one wall.

  “In a minute we’ll open the shade,” Michael said. “You’ll be able to see into the next room, but nobody there will be able to see out. Take your time, just let us know if any of the guys look familiar. You ready?”

  I held my breath, nodded.

  Denny pressed a button and the shade rose, revealing another room about the size of our own. Four men stood against the far wall facing us. Every one of them seemed to be looking straight at me. I fought a wave of nausea.

  “You sure they can’t see out?”

  “Positive,” Denny said, thumbs hooked over his belt. “You want them to move around a little or turn a different way, you let me know.”

  I shook my head. It wouldn’t be necessary. Not a one of them looked anything at all like the blond man I’d seen at The Creamery. It wasn’t even close. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the four faces. Three of them, Michael had told me, were cops. But one, I knew, was a convicted child molester, a man who only hours earlier had tried to abduct a young girl close to Anna’s age. I tried to figure out which one it was, and couldn’t.

  “Anyone look familiar?” Michael asked.

  “He’s not there.”

  Denny leaned against the wall. “No need to hurry, you know.”

  “He’s not there,” I said again. “The man I saw had unusual features, I’d spot him in a minute if I saw him again.” Still, I couldn’t help staring at the faces in front of me. “Which one tried to kidnap the little girl?” I asked after a moment.

  “Second from the left.”

  I drew in a breath. The man had been at the very bottom of my list. Smooth-faced, with an up-turned mouth, even white teeth, and eyes that crinkled at comers even when he wasn’t smiling. He not only looked harmless, he looked downright neighborly. The sort of guy you’d turn to for help if you thought you were in danger. I felt another wave of nausea roll through me, and although I couldn’t make myself turn away, I was relieved when Denny once again dropped the shade.

  “I thought you didn’t hold to the Brandon-stranger- kidnapping scenario,” I told Michael when we reached his car.

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  “So why were we taking a look at this guy? Just to appease me?”

  “Something wrong with that?”

  I shrugged.

  “Of course, there’s the chance you might be right, too. Even if this guy wasn’t your man.”

  And there was the disheartening chance we might never know for sure, either way. “Anything new on Brandon’s death?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Nothing new on Mona’s either. I’ve had a couple guys interviewing Gary’s associates, looking into his finances. Nada.” Michael sounded weary and wrung out. He looked it too. The hollows under his eyes were deeper than usual, his expression more drawn.

  “Another late night?” I asked, touching his knee in a show of sympathy.

  He nodded. “Compounded by the fact that I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “You?” I laughed. “That’s certainly never been a problem I’ve seen.”

  It was something of a joke between us the way Michael could sleep through everything from Max’s crazed midnight barking to Anna’s whimpers. He hadn’t even rolled over or opened an eye the time I knocked the lamp off the bedside table on my way to the bathroom.

  “No, probably not.” He gave me a meaningful, unexpectedly serious look. “But I don’t sleep nearly so well when I sleep alone. Not lately.”

  There was a moment of strained silence while he kept his eyes fixed on mine. I shifted uneasily in my seat. I knew where this was headed. “Guess what?” I said, after a moment, “I talked with Eve Fisher.”

  “You’re changing the subject again.”

  “She and her husband were on a cruise ship when Mona was killed.”

  He sighed. “I told you that.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But,” Michael interrupted good-naturedly, “you weren’t absolutely sure I was right.”

  “It just seemed like an odd coincidence is all. I mean Ike threatens Mona, his wife’s homework paper is there by the phone, and then Mona’s dead.”

  “That’s the trouble with this business, you can’t tell what’s significant except in retrospect.” We stopped at a red light and Michael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m right about the other thing too, you know,” he added softly.

  “What other thing?”

  “The thing you never want to talk about.”

  “Why do we have to push it?”

  “Glen’s coming back next month. I’m going to have to start looking for a new place soon.” Since his divorce, Michael had been subletting a friend’s condominium. An easy, interim solution to an issue I hadn’t been ready to take on.

  I still wasn’t. “I know that you’re—”

  “We could make it official, maybe even buy a new place, one of our very own.”

  My mouth felt dry. I swallowed and kept my eyes focused straight ahead.

  “I want for us to be together, Kate. A couple, everyday and forever.”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Living together is so ...” There was a pressure inside my head, almost a ringing sensation. I didn’t even want to think about the official part. “Well, it would change things.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would.” He paused a moment “But that�
�s kinda the whole point.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Is it me? Is that the problem?”

  “No, it’s me. I’m just . . .” Just scared to death, I thought. Scared of being hurt again, of feeling utterly alone when I’m not. Scared that you’ll see my flaws, that you’ll grow tired of me or turn against me. Scared, ultimately, that it won’t work out. “I’m just... not ready,” I said finally.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. He regarded me flatly for a moment, then swung his eyes back to the road. “Sorry I mentioned it.”

  “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  I opened my mouth to say more, then found I couldn’t think what to say. We rode the rest of the way in silence.

  <><><>

  That evening we were all in foul moods. Anna, who is usually a cheerful and even-tempered child, left the dinner table in a rage after I told her she’d been invited to play with Jodi on Saturday. She stomped into her room and slammed the door like a veritable teenager. Libby had been cranky and sullen from the moment she walked in the door, which was a good hour before school let out for the day. “So I cut class,” she bristled when I mentioned it. “Big, hairy deal.” For myself, disenchantment was like a black cloud, extending to everybody and everything. I was ready to find fault at the drop of a hat.

  Which is why, when Libby left the kitchen without offering to help with the clean-up, I lashed out at her for thinking about no one but herself.

  “So far, it’s unanimous,” she said bitterly. “Must be true.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to dump the attitude, either.”

  She glowered at me, rinsed a couple of plates, then reached for Anna’s milk glass and jammed it down hard in the dishwasher. The glass shattered. Libby screamed in pain and yanked back her hand. Bright red blood ran in rivulets across her palm and splashed onto the linoleum. Her face went suddenly white.