Dangerous Habits

by Susan Hunter

  But Hegl now, that was entirely different. He lied about knowing Lacey before she went to DeMoss. He had plenty of opportunity there to try and start up with her again, or to try to ensure she kept their secret, or both. If Lacey said no, if she threatened to tell, or even if her daily presence was just too threatening to him, he could have decided he had to get rid of her. And there was his history with Olivia Perez Morgan. But if he was involved, did Sister Julianna and Reid Palmer fit in the picture, too?

  It was so frustrating. What did Coop know that he wasn’t telling me? I tried to think of inadvertent hints he might have dropped. What about Cole Granger? Coop had warned me the first time I talked to him about Lacey’s abuse that Cole was a con man.

  What if Cole had told me just enough of the truth to sound plausible, but he was actually covering up his own involvement? What if he met Lacey, like he admitted, and they got into a fight, like he said. But there wasn’t any kid with her. And she didn’t kick him in the balls, he knocked her in the head, hard enough to kill her. Then he panicked and took her body into the woods and dumped her. He could’ve told me about the sexual abuse both to distract my attention from him and to point me in the direction of the abuser as the killer.

  I had driven all the way back home, and still I didn’t know which way to go now that Miller was out of the picture. I sat in the driveway staring blankly. It took a minute to realize my phone was vibrating. I looked at the caller ID. Delite Wilson.

  “Hello.”

  “I seen you on the news. Looks like you’re screwed.”

  “Yeah. Delite what did you call me for on Saturday?”

  “I had some bad luck. Your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “Yeah. My boss saw me talkin’ to you that night. She fired me.”

  “She fired you for talking to me?” I asked, not hiding my skepticism.

  “Maybe not exactly that. I missed my shift a coupla times, and she was pretty mad about that. Anyway, she fired me and I’m sorta short of funds.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “Well, I was thinkin’ you’re lookin’ for information and I figure maybe it’s worth somethin’ to you.”

  “You picked the wrong door, Delite. I don’t have any money.”

  She snorted. “I thought you wanted to know the real story about the night your sister disappeared. Isn’t that worth somethin’? Like maybe $5,000?”

  “$5,000? I don’t have that kind of money. But if you know something about Lacey’s death—”

  “I’m not sayin’ anything unless I see the money. I’m not tellin’ for free. I’m tired of everyone takin’ advantage of me.”

  “Who’s taking advantage of you?”

  “Never mind. Just bring me the money.”

  “I can’t get that much. It’s not possible. I might be able to scrounge up $1,000?”

  “$1,000? For what I got to tell you? No way.”

  “Look, maybe I can get $1,500 bucks together, and that’s it, take it or leave it.”

  She went quiet, but I thought I heard another voice in the background.

  “Hello? Delite? Are you there?”

  “Yeah. Meet me at 6 tonight at 229 Elm.”

  “You’re here, in town?”

  “I’m stayin’ with a friend. I gotta go. Bring the money if you want the information.”

  I drove straight to an ATM. I pulled out everything I had and still I was $600 short. I didn’t want to ask my mother—she’d only try to stop me, or call in Karen or Coop, and if Delite really had information, the fewer that knew about it, the better. Miguel.

  “Chica, I’ve been so worried. You didn’t call me back.”

  “I’m fine. I’m OK. Can I borrow $600?”

  “To take out a hit on Detective Ross? I don’t know if I’m down with that.”

  “I’m not kidding, and I hate to ask, but I really need it.”

  “Sure, of course. But only if you tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t want you involved.”

  “Then I guess you don’t want my money.”

  I hesitated, and he stepped into the pause.

  “I’m going to the ATM, I’ll be right over. And then you’re gonna tell me everything.”

  Which is why, two hours later, there were two of us in the car as I pulled into the drive of 229 Elm Street, a rundown house with a cobbled together appearance. A sagging screened-in front porch, a patchy lawn strewn with bits of broken things—a cracked clay pot, a bicycle wheel, a rake with most of its tines missing. A drooping maple, more dead than alive, bent toward the gravel driveway where a rusty purple Camaro was parked.

  “I’m going in with you.”

  “No. You’re not. I don’t want to spook her. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

  “You had to. I’m a shareholder.”

  “Whatever. I’ll be fine. Just wait here for me.”

  I reached for the doorbell until I noticed it was only loosely connected to the doorframe by a frayed wire, and opted instead to rap loudly on the peeling front door. It opened, and a figure stepped out from the shadows.

  “Well, well, well. If it ain’t big sis.”

  “Cole. Is Delite here?”

  “Welcome to my humble home,” he said, ushering me in with a mock bow and a wave of his arm.

  Inside was even more depressing than outside. A stained and scarred wooden floor, bare light bulbs in the ceiling, a sagging, threadbare blue couch patterned with big pink and white flowers sitting in the middle of the room. The air smelled faintly of burning weed though none was in evidence. Delite looked at me and sat up from her semi-reclining position.

  “Delite, look who come to visit. Sit down now, won’t you, Leah?” he said, pointing to a metal folding chair and pulling up another for himself.

  “I didn’t come to talk to you.”

  “But I’m what you might call Delite’s personal representative. Like her lawyer, kind of, just to make sure her interests are safe.”

  I turned away from him and looked at Delite. “OK, so what’s the information?”

  “Now hold on there. Let’s just see some evidence of your part of the deal,” Cole said.

  I reached in my purse and pulled an envelope out, opening it slightly so he could see the bills within. He nodded.

  “All right then. Delite, you go ahead now darlin’.”

  “I wasn’t with Lacey that night. We didn’t go to a party. I never saw her after lunch.”

  “Where were you that night?”

  “With Hegl. He got a car from the carpool and sneaked me out under a blanket. We went and saw Knocked Up and got a pizza, like a date. Then we hadda go back to DumbAss Academy. I did his bj in the car. If we’da got caught, they woulda bounced him, and Queenie prob’ly woulda killed him herself. Me, well straight to juvie for sure. But he liked to do stuff like that. He wanted to do it twice. The second time in Queenie’s office.”

  “You had sex with Father Hegl in Sister Julianna’s office?”

  “Not sex,” she said in an annoyed voice. “Just a bj.” She shrugged. “I got pizza, didn’t I? And I liked that movie. He sat in Queenie’s chair. He wanted me to crawl under the desk. So, I did. He finished, then we heard like a door openin.’ I ran out Queenie’s side door while he was zippin’ his pants. I don’t know what happened after that.”

  Lacey. Lacey had gone to the administration building to get a car after Cole refused to take her with him.

  “What time was this?”

  “We got there a little after 10:30. I could see Queenie’s clock from under the desk. I hadda get down there, he hadda get in the chair; I was there maybe 10 minutes or so. Hegl wasn’t exactly pre-jack but he never lasted very long. Queenie’s clock chimed when I was leavin’ just like Cinderella leavin’ the ball.” She gave a scornful laugh.

  I turned to Cole. “What time did you leave Lacey?”

  “Hold on a minute. My information ain’t part of this deal. If I’m gonna give yo
u anything, I got to get somethin’, too, don’t I?”

  “Tell me, or I’ll call your probation officer and we’ll see how a drug test comes out. I’m pretty sure smoking weed will get you kicked right back to jail.”

  “Don’t be such a high and mighty bitch.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I got a speedin’ ticket, right? When I was on Dunphy Road. That was 10:50 p.m. according to Officer Asshole who wrote the ticket. So, I musta left there about five minutes before that.”

  “The files say you told Ross you were with your girlfriend Amber all night. They don’t say anything about you getting a ticket that night just a few miles away from DeMoss.”

  “I guess he didn’t check with the state po-lice, did he? Cause that’s who give me the ticket. And that ain’t my problem. I told you I didn’t need to get mixed up in any of that shit.”

  I turned back to Delite. “You’re sure you didn’t see who came into the reception area? You didn’t hear anyone speak?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why did you come forward with that story about Lacey and you being at a party?”

  “After they found her body, Hegl said with all the pokin’ around they were doin’, they could find out he took a car and took me out that night. Maybe even that we hooked up in Queenie’s office. He said I should say Lacey went to a party with me and got wasted. That’d quiet things down, and he promised to make sure I got to stay outa juvie.”

  “Didn’t you realize that by lying you altered the whole course of the investigation? If you hadn’t made up that story, then they might have actually tried to find out what happened, and Lacey’s murderer wouldn’t be walking around.”

  “She’s dead either way, right?”

  “Delite here was just protectin’ her own interests. Now, as I see it, you got what you wanted, and if you hand over what we want, this deal is concluded.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “You’re not tryin’ to back out on us, are you? ’Cause I gotta tell you, I don’t see that you have a real strong negotiatin’ position here.” He moved in closer, his body odor strong enough to make my nostrils flare, and his fists clenched with latent menace.

  I ignored him. “Delite, what do you know about Danny Howard?”

  “Ralphie. That’s what your sister called him. ’Cause he looked like that loser kid in the Christmas movie. Used to follow her around. Little wussy kid.”

  “Do you know what happened to him? Do you know where he is now?”

  “I seen him once.”

  “Where? When did you see him?”

  “Me and Cole seen him at a truck stop at the Dells a coupla months ago.”

  “Did you get his number?”

  “Yeah. We’re gonna get together next week and plan the DumbAss Academy reunion. No, I didn’t get his number. I said I seen him. I didn’t talk to him. He was kinda busy.”

  “Do you know how to reach him?”

  “Look, he was workin,’ and it’s not like we was big buddies. That was him and your sister.”

  “He was working at the truck stop? Is he a bus boy? A server?”

  “I s’pose you could call it that,” she said with a smirk. At my confused expression she said, “He was hustlin’, OK?”

  “You mean he’s a male prostitute?”

  She made a sound between a laugh and a snort.

  “Yeah, he’s a ‘male prostitute’,” she said, mocking me with a simpering, prissy tone.

  “Do you know how I can reach him?”

  “What do I look like, 411? I told ya, we didn’t trade phone numbers.”

  “I think that about wraps up our business, Leah. Me and Delite got plans. Now, if you’ll just hand over the cash.”

  “Delite, what did you mean when you said you were tired of ‘all of them’ taking advantage of you. Who is all of them?”

  “After you came sniffin’ around, I figured there might be somethin’ in it for me. I reached out to Hegl for a loan, like. He treated me like dirt. Told me if I tried to spread lies about him, I’d regret it. Said he could make more trouble for me than I ever could for him. Nobody would believe a liar like me. Asshole. I don’t have to take that anymore. Then Cole said maybe I should call you. Now, I’m thinkin’ maybe I even got a bonus for you,” she gave me a sly grin.

  Cole cut her off.

  “Shut it, Delite. Nothin’ is free. Now, if Leah comes up with a little more cash—” I had no scruples about paying for information, obviously, but I was tapped out.

  “I haven’t got anything more. This is it. But—”

  “Then our business is done here.” He reached out and snatched the envelope from my hand. “And don’t think any of this is on the record, cause it ain’t. And we definitely ain’t standin’ behind it. You’re on your own.”

  Twenty-Nine

  I had refused to talk on the ride back home, waiting until we were seated at the breakfast bar, each with a bottle of Supper Club lager in front of us. I had barely ended with Delite’s hint that there could be “bonus” information if I came up with the cash, when Miguel started peppering me with questions.

  “Hegl is the pendejo who molested Lacey? But how could she go to DeMoss and see him and know what he did? Wouldn’t that be muy hard for her?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was really hard for her. But Lacey was a strong kid. Stronger than we knew. By the time she got to DeMoss, seeing Hegl every day maybe made her more angry than afraid. So angry, she decided she had to come out with the truth no matter how he threatened her.”

  “So, what do you think happened the night Lacey disappeared?”

  “I think she wanted to get away before she outed him, and she thought Cole could take her into town, to our house. Then when Cole wouldn’t go along with it because of Danny, she had to come up with a new plan.”

  “But what could she do?”

  “Steal a car. That was her fallback position. She took Mom’s car a few times, and her last hurrah before she got sent to DeMoss was trying to get to Chicago with it. I’m guessing that after Cole let her down, she figured her last option was to get the car keys from the administration building and take one of the pool cars. The keys are just hanging there on a board behind the reception desk. She left Danny to wait for her while she got the car.”

  “Only Hegl was there with Delite.”

  “Exactly. Maybe Hegl left the front door unlocked, on purpose, to heighten the ‘danger,’ or maybe Lacey just busted in. Either way, she got in, made a beeline for the keys, and Hegl heard her and came out to reception. He confronted her, asked her what she was doing there.

  “She snapped. Told him she was going to go forward, tell everyone the truth, and she didn’t care whether anyone believed her or not. Maybe he stepped in too close, maybe he taunted her—maybe she slapped him. He was backed into a corner and he was furious.”

  I could see the scene in my mind’s eye. Lacey small, defiant, lashing out verbally and physically. Hegl, enraged and motivated by self-preservation, hitting right back.

  “Oh, wait a minute—”

  I jumped up, and ran down the hall to my room, searching through my desk for the case folder, then flipping quickly through the papers. There it was, the medical examiner’s signature: Donald Straube, M.D.

  I went back to the kitchen and grabbed my phone to look up Dr. Straube’s number. “What? What is it, chica?”

  I waved my hand to shush Miguel as the call rang through.

  “May I speak to Dr. Donald Straube?”

  “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “Leah Nash, Dr. Straube. You were the medical examiner on the case for my sister, Lacey Nash, five years ago. I just want to ask you a couple of questions. It won’t take a minute.”

  “Young lady, I’m retired. Have been for four years. I can’t remember details at this date. You should be able to get a copy of the autopsy from the sheriff’s department.”

  “No, no, that’s OK. I have a copy. I just wanted to ask you, in your
report you say the cause of death was head trauma from a blunt object, probably from her head hitting a rock or a tree stump when she fell down the ravine.”

  “Yes, yes. I do remember now that you specify. Sad case, very young girl.”

  “Dr. Straube, is it possible that my sister didn’t die from the fall? Could she have been struck in the head, and her body transported to the location where it was found?”

  He got a little ouchy then. “Miss Nash, I am a qualified medical doctor who met every standard of the state of Wisconsin for medical examiner. A licensed pathologist conducted the autopsy. Are you suggesting our findings were not correct?”

  “No, please, not at all. I’m just wondering if there was specific evidence that proved she died at the site where the body was found.”

  “The site was trampled by the unfortunate woman who found the body, as well as by some of the more inexperienced members of the sheriff’s department. Furthermore, your sister’s body was badly decomposed.”

  “I understand. I’m not criticizing your findings. I just want to know if it’s possible that she could have received a blow to the head, and afterward her body was dumped at the location where it was discovered. Is there anything in the findings that would say that wasn’t possible?”

  He sighed. “No, no nothing I recall from the autopsy or the crime scene investigation that would preclude that. But given the findings of the investigators and the location, the most likely cause of the head injury seemed to be her head striking a rock or tree stump as she fell. Perhaps you should be talking to the detective in charge of the case. He would have managed the crime scene and would be able to help you better than I.”

  “No, you’ve helped me a lot. Thank you, doctor. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  I hung up and turned to Miguel, who was bursting with the effort of not talking.

  “I know. I know how Hegl did it.” I looked back down at my phone and clicked on photos. Nothing. “No!” I had forgotten that everything on my phone had been deleted.

  “What? What? Dígame.”