Nick turned off his engine and opened his passenger door. “Sit with me. We need to talk.”
I got in the car, stifling the impulse to cross my arms like a kid resisting a parental lecture. “I’m listening.”
“Aimee, I understood your taking risks back when Harry was in trouble, but I didn’t like it.” He put up a hand. “I know, it’s your life and I don’t have veto power over any of your decisions, but that doesn’t prevent me from speaking my mind.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I have to make sure Laurie’s okay and that there’s nothing going on at the hospital that puts patients at risk. I’m not going to do anything dangerous. I’m not a particularly brave woman. I don’t cut into people on operating tables like Phyllis Poole or fly fighter jets over hostile third-world countries like Rella Olstad.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re comparing apples and oranges, lady. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t work your way through a master’s program or earn a black belt without courage and grit.”
“But those are things I could do without leaving terra firma or taking another person’s life in my hands.” I struggled with how to explain myself. “Nick, all I’m really good at is digging for information and coming up with answers. That’s why I became a librarian. Call it an addiction, if you want to label it. Once I’m confronted with a problem, I have to stay with it until it’s solved.”
Nick sighed. “And where do you suppose this addiction came from?”
That stopped me for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve been this way all my life. Even as a kid, my friends always came to me with their problems—help with their school work or maybe finding a lost pet. Just simple stuff, but I loved the feeling of helping and making people happy.”
“You’re not a kid now. The stakes are different.”
“That’s my point. A man I once knew has died, and his death could mean other lives are at stake. Two people I care about have asked me for help. I can’t ignore that. I’m sorry you don’t approve, but I have to see this through.”
“All right, then.” Nick took the answering machine tape out of his pocket. Ginger sniffed at it. “How about we go to the missing nurse’s home and knock on the door? Chances are we’ll find her there, safe and sound. Do you know where she lives?”
“I’ll find out.” I got out of the car.
“When you do, call me. Do not go alone.” I closed the door and drove away, with Ginger riding shotgun.
Chapter 8
Saturday nights were awkward. Nick and I were still working out the kinks in our relationship, so by tacit agreement, we had been spending them apart, and neither of us asked the other for details. I got through my evening by borrowing Foul Play from Amah’s DVD collection. She said it was a comedy about a librarian, so I shared a bowl of goldfish crackers with Fanny while I watched a young Goldie Hawn being stalked by a killer in a closed and darkened library. Thanks, Amah.
The temperature Sunday morning was seventy degrees—perfect for a five-mile jog on the country road that ran past Jack and Amah’s property. The long, hot summer with its bleached and empty sky had given way to a few strips of gauzy clouds above the mountains to the east. A cool breeze spread the pungent aroma of wild grasses through the branches of the blue oaks and gray pines dominating the landscape.
On the home stretch, I stopped at Coyote Creek’s Four Corners Market for a cold bottle of green tea. I spotted Keely O’Brien and Tucker Potkotter in the check-out line with two loaded grocery baskets. Keely’s hair was tangled and dark at the roots, and her wrinkled Montgomery Gentry T-shirt hung loose on her frame. Tucker’s skintight muscle shirt lived up to its name, showing off his biceps and an impressive six-pack. I’d heard Tucker had moved into Keely’s house in the O’Brien compound in Coyote Creek and wondered if they’d gotten engaged.
I started to duck into a different line before I could be spotted, but then the urge to hide from Keely nipped at my conscience. We’d been good pals long ago, and she had just lost her brother. I walked over with my bottle of tea and stood in line behind them.
“Keely, how are you doing?” I said.
She plastered on a phony smile. “Great.” She gestured toward Tucker. “You know Tuck, don’t you?”
“I think we met once at the gym when I was there with Harry. Nice to see you, Tucker.”
“Same here.” He nodded at me and looked away.
“Go ahead and ask,” Keely said.
“Ask what?”
“About James. You know you want to.” She lifted her chin, challenging me. “I heard you asked him out.”
“Oh, that. It wasn’t really a date.” Sure, I was curious about James, but Cody’s death had renewed my interest in all of the surviving members of the O’Brien family.
Keely ignored my protest and went on. “His wife won a Tony a couple of years ago. So did her co-star. James was the director. He didn’t win. The bitch hooked up with the co-star, and James left her and the production. It’s still playing on Broadway. I keep hoping it’ll fold, but he did too good a job putting it together.”
“I hear he’s producing off-Broadway these days.”
“Right. The divorce was final about a year ago. She cleaned him out, in case you’re wondering if he’s rich.” Keely’s basket was next in line for the cashier. “Anything else you want to know?”
I didn’t like hearing that James might be strapped for money, but I wasn’t about to pursue that topic in front of everyone in the grocery line.
“Not really,” I said. “James is a great guy. I hope you get to spend a lot of time together while he’s here.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy all right. Won’t even give me a walk-on in one of his precious productions, and he owes me. That makes two big-shot brothers who never gave me a freaking break. It looks like James is more interested in being your escort service than spending time with me.” She grabbed a National Enquirer off the rack and tossed it in the basket.
Keely’s rudeness wasn’t pretty, but at least it made sense. She thought I was competing for her time with her big brother—now her only brother—and nothing I said was going to change her mind. She said he owed her a role in one of his productions. Poor James. I could imagine the can of worms that would open, considering Keely’s addiction problems.
When their bill was totaled, Tucker didn’t make a move to pull out his wallet. Keely put the purchases from both carts on a charge card she extracted from the back pocket of her jeans.
I paid for my tea and followed Keely and Tucker outside where a woman who had to be Seamus O’Brien’s current wife leaned against the front fender of a shiny black Hummer with a license plate that read: TAXDMY2. She held a cellphone to her ear, and her pouty lips were pulled down in a frown. Keely had said Echo was young, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Dressed in designer jeans, spike heels, and a tube top that stretched across breasts the size of cantaloupes, Keely’s stepmother was nothing if not eye-catching. Her long, thick hair was chocolate brown and shiny, the same color as her exquisitely lined and shadowed eyes. Her tan torso was an expanse of bare skin that started just below the tube top and ended where her low riders barely covered her pubic region. A tattoo of a snake adorned the flesh near her hipbone, its head dipping down and disappearing into her pants.
She put her phone in her purse and walked to the back of the Hummer, where Keely and Tucker were loading the groceries. She snapped her fingers in Keely’s face.
“Hand it over.”
Keely batted her hand away. “Knock it off, bitch.”
Tucker stepped between them. “Hey, ladies, let’s not make a scene, okay? Give her the damn card, Keely.”
Keely reached into her pocket, pulled out the credit card and flicked it in Echo’s face. It fell to the ground between them.
“Pick it the hell up,” Echo said.
Before Keely could reply, Tucker reached down and grabbed the card. He handed it to Echo. “Here you go.”
She held his gaz
e with her eyes while she slipped the card into her cleavage. “Thanks, Tuck.” She turned a defiant glare toward Keely. “Are you finished yet?”
Keely slammed the back gate of the Hummer. “No thanks to you, Mommy.”
Tucker climbed into the driver’s seat. Echo sat in front on the passenger side, and Keely took a backseat behind her. Taking the backseat seemed to be a way of life for Keely.
I watched them drive away with Keely’s words about James’s divorce running through my mind. James had mentioned that Seamus wanted to change his will, but he didn’t volunteer anything about his own interest in his father’s estate. I couldn’t help wondering how much he knew about the current will. Keely said James lost a major chunk of his assets in his divorce. Living in Manhattan wasn’t cheap. If James was deep in debt, he might be counting on that will right along with the rest of the O’Briens.
On the last mile of my run, I pondered Laurie Popejoy’s phone calls and her subsequent disappearance. She had me convinced that Cody’s death wasn’t an accident, but Cleo’s suspicions about Dr. Poole seemed unfounded, unless the doctor was truly a psychopath. I wasn’t convinced of that.
Back at my apartment I checked the old answering machine again for messages and found nothing. I decided the best use of Sunday afternoon would be to scope out Laurie Popejoy’s home. I took a quick shower, ate a handful of trail mix, and called Cleo to ask if she knew Laurie’s home address.
“I might have it. Hold on a sec.” She came back right away. “She sent me a Christmas card last year and I kept the return address so I could send one back to her.” Cleo read off the address and I recognized the name of the street.
“Thanks, I know where that is.”
“What are you going to do?”
I told her Nick’s idea about dropping by Laurie’s house but didn’t mention that I was going to make an early reconnaissance run on my own. My plan was to park near Laurie’s address and watch for any sign of her coming or going. Nick couldn’t object to that. I was about to pull out of Jack and Amah’s driveway when I spotted Harry’s red Jag signaling to turn in. I backed up to give him room. He parked and walked over to my car, motioning for me to lower my window.
“Where’re you going?”
“Nowhere. Shopping.” Guilty answer. Harry knew I was dissembling.
“You’re not going snooping alone.”
“Fine. Come with me.”
He glanced toward Jack and Amah’s front door. “Sorry, I promised to help Jack install their new air-conditioning system.”
“How long will that take?”
“All day and then some. My crew will be here in five minutes to start the ducting.” Harry had his cellphone in his hand, punching at it with his thumb. He held it to his ear for a moment, then handed it to me. Nick was on the other end. I glared at my meddling brother, who repeated his directive in a whisper. “You’re not going snooping alone.”
“Harry? What’s going on?” Nick asked.
“It’s me,” I said. “I’m on Harry’s phone.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother’s a pain in the rear. I didn’t call you, he did.”
I told him I had an address for Laurie and asked if he wanted to help me check it out.
“Definitely, but it’ll have to wait until this evening. I’m busy ’til then.” He was busy. That left a lot to my imagination.
We agreed to meet in the parking lot of Harry’s office at seven thirty. I had nothing planned for the rest of the day, so I volunteered to help with installing the A/C. I quickly became the designated gofer for the crew, but it didn’t keep me from chewing over my conversation with Nick. And recalling how we used to spend Sunday afternoons.
When Harry and his crew broke for dinner, I helped Amah put out a spread consisting of grilled venison burgers, Greek salad, and strawberry trifle. After dinner, Harry and his men went back to work and I left to meet Nick, heading west toward Timbergate and into a lavish pink sunset back-lighting the deep velvet peaks of the Yolla Bolly Wilderness.
Nick was already parked at Harry’s office. I let myself in the passenger door of his SUV, determined not to ask what had kept him busy all day.
“Where’s your dog?” I asked.
“Home. So where does this woman live?”
“She’s at 456½ Jefferson Street.”
“What’s the half about?”
“That means it’s accessed from an alley. I checked.”
“Of course you checked. You’re a librarian.”
The sunset had faded to twilight when we reached the address, a large two-story Victorian painted blue with white trim. A shabby sign out front read Apts. Reasonable. No Pets. The building sat on a southeast corner under a canopy of liquidambar trees. Nick turned right and slowed, watching for an alley entrance.
“There,” I said.
“I see it.” He turned right into the alley. Behind the apartment house was a small single unit that appeared to be converted servants’ quarters. Nick backed out of the alley, drove half a block down the street, and parked. He took a small flashlight out of his console.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Why are you parking here?”
“I’d rather not draw the attention of her neighbors in the apartment house.”
“Why not? If she’s not home, maybe someone will know where she is.”
“We don’t know what kind of neighbors she has. Let’s try it my way first.”
I followed him up the street and into the dark alley. He aimed his flashlight beam at a tiny yard—a patch of fenced lawn lined with geraniums. Stone steps led to the front door. The number on the door frame confirmed the address as Laurie’s. The porch light was out and full dark enveloped the little house. No light burned inside.
Nick rang the doorbell and leaned in to listen. “It’s working,” he said. We waited. He rang it again. We waited a minute more, listening, hearing no sounds from inside.
Nick whispered close to my ear, “Let’s go around back.”
At Laurie’s back door, Nick put his arm out, motioning me to stop. In the beam from his flashlight, I saw what he had already seen. The frame was splintered, and the door was ajar.
Chapter 9
Nick put a finger to his lips. We both listened but heard nothing except the hum of light traffic half a block away, mingled with the rustle of leaves in the trees surrounding Laurie’s little house. Somewhere farther away, a car horn honked and a dog barked. Nick pushed the door open wider. I tapped his shoulder and he flinched.
“What?” he whispered.
“Are you going in?” I whispered back.
“Yes. Do you want to wait in the SUV?”
“No.”
He pulled two pairs of vinyl gloves from his pocket and handed one to me. “Put these on.”
“Mind explaining why you carry—”
“Not now,” he whispered.
While I slid my hands into the gloves, he stepped inside the back door. It opened into the kitchen area. I followed him through into the small living room, afraid of what we might find, but more afraid of what might find us. In the glow of his flashlight, we scrutinized the space and saw nothing suspicious. A short hallway opened into a bedroom on one side and a bathroom on the other. I hovered in the hallway and watched while Nick entered her bedroom. The bed was still neatly made and a laptop sat open on a desk across the room.
“No sign of a struggle in here,” he said when he emerged. He crossed the hall and entered the bathroom.
“Ah,” he said. “Here’s something. An open window onto the alley. She could have escaped through here when the back door was being forced.”
“So maybe she got out before the intruder got in.”
“That might account for the place being untouched. He wasn’t looking to take anything. He just wanted her.”
“She must be scared out of her mind. We have to help her.”
I followed Nick back to Laurie’s bedroom, where the laptop sat open.
A charging cord for a cellphone sat next to it. Nick picked up a small notepad and pencil from the desk and put them in his pocket. He crouched down and trained the light beam under her bed, but came up with nothing.
Back in the kitchen, Nick opened the refrigerator, sniffed an open milk carton and winced. Following his lead, I looked under the sink for a garbage container. I opened the lid, and the smell that hit my nostrils made it clear the garbage hadn’t been emptied for several days.
“Look at her mail.” I pointed to a pile of envelopes on the floor below a mail slot in the front door.
“Looks like it’s been accumulating for a while.” Nick spread the mail out. “Bills, flyers, ads, catalogs. Nothing personal.” He pushed it back into a pile.
“Her last shift at work was Monday,” I said. “That’s a week ago tomorrow. It looks like she hasn’t been back here since that night.”
A sudden gust of wind set a shrub rattling against the living room window. The broken back door slammed against its frame.
“We’d better get out of here.” Nick started toward the door.
“Shall we take her laptop? There might be something on it that could help us find her.”
He hesitated. “Better not. What if she comes back for it?”
While we stood undecided, a siren wailed on a nearby street.
“Ah, hell,” Nick said. “Let’s go.”
We left through the back door, leaving it just as we’d found it, and hurried to the car. The siren continued, but grew fainter as it pursued a lawbreaker in a distant part of town.
Nick drove to a sandwich shop where we were the only customers. We ordered coffees and sat in a booth. He took the notepad and pencil from Laurie’s apartment and began rubbing the pencil lead against the blank top sheet of the notepad. I saw faint outlines begin to form and recognized my name and landline phone number, but there was another word I had trouble making out.
“She must have torn off the page and taken it with her,” I said.
“Or the intruder did.”
“Nick, if the intruder has my home phone number, he could track me to Jack and Amah’s address. They could be in danger. I have to warn them.”
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