I puched some buttons, pattered on randomly, and got the station on the air. My cell stopped ringing, but the booth phone light was blinking. I braced myself, figuring it was Herb, calling to yell at me for the dead air.
"Hello. Uh, I mean, WRRR, this is Magnificent Marty. Talk to me." I said.
The voice was muffled. "Stop messing where you ain't got no business, or you'll be sorry." Whoever it was hung up right away.
I didn't think a whole lot about it. At least at first. DJs get crank calls all the time. When the second one came in, I started to get an uneasy feeling. By the time I hung up from the third one, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just a prank.
I jotted down the number off the caller-id screen. We've been begging Herb to put in a better security system, but he says Georgina doesn't want to lay out the bucks. Sadly, he’s probably right. I put on the next song and called Tim.
He answered on the third ring. "You want me to check it out?" he asked, after I'd told him about the phone call.
"Please." I gave him the number.
"You staying at Charli's again tonight?"
"Yes. Will you come over here and follow me to her house? I'm really scared."
"It's about time you got scared," he said roughly. His voice softened. "Of course I'll come over. Wait for me inside."
Somehow, I made it through the rest of the shift. When I turned over the chair to the overnight guy, I felt completely drained. I grabbed my bag and went out to the lobby. Tim was just outside the entrance door, leaning against the wall, his hands jammed down in his pockets. He had on a pair of shorts, a faded blue t-shirt, and a GPD hat pulled low over his eyes. He grinned when he saw me.
I went out the door. "Thanks, pal."
He tilted the hat back on his head so I could see his eyes. "No big deal."
I grabbed him and gave him a quick little hug. "Yes, it is a big deal. I mean, it seems like every time I turn around, I'm having to get you to come rescue me. I just want you to know that I really do appreciate it. You're a real good guy. I don't know what I'd do without you."
I stood on my tiptoes so I could kiss him on the cheek. Just as I moved in to kiss him, he turned his head and the kiss landed on his lips. I pulled my head back and looked at him. He blushed.
"Sorry. Accident." he said, stammering. He jerked away and backed up.
I fiddled with the straps of my bag, not able to meet his eyes. "So, you wanna follow me or should I follow you?" What else could I say?
"You lead; I'll follow."
When we got to Charli's house, I went inside and grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and a bag of chips. Tim waited on her front porch. Charli's house was dark, except for the porch light and a light over the kitchen sink. She'd left a note for me on the counter, telling me I could sleep on the sofa bed in the family room. I tip-toed back outside.
"Here." I handed Tim one of the beers and sat on the steps next to him.
It was a steamy, sultry night. The neighborhood was quiet. A light foggy haze around the street lights diffused the glow. I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the sky. I picked out the brightest star and squeezed my eyes shut. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight," I chanted, "please let Vanessa be okay."
I opened my eyes and looked over at Tim. He was peeling the label off his beer bottle.
"I hope we find her," I said.
"Me too. I'm going to file the report first thing in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan." I took a sip of my beer and looked back up at the sky. A few clouds partially obscured the stars. It didn't look like rain.
"I almost forgot to tell you," Tim said. "Those phone calls, they came from a disposable cell phone. One of those you get at the convenience store."
“Well, poop. I was hoping you'd find out who made them."
He ripped open the bag of chips and scarfed down a handful. "Sorry."
"Me too." I stifled a yawn. "I'm going to have to get some sleep."
"Sure thing. I'll see you tomorrow."
I drained the rest of my beer and stood up. "Thanks for coming to my rescue. Again."
He stood up and handed me the bag of chips. "Anytime. Uh, Marty, uh, about that, uh, about, you know, before..."
I waved my hand. "Don't worry about it. Accidents happen. I know it didn't mean anything."
He did the guppy impression, looked down, swallowed hard, then looked back up at me. "Yeah. Sure. Okay. So long as you know that. G'nite."
I stood inside the front door and watched him drive away. In fact, I stood there for a long time after he disappeared from sight. Watching. Wondering.
It started at five thirty in the morning. First, little Jaelyn woke up. I have to admit, she was pretty sweet. I could hear her chattering to her dolls for about forty-five minutes. At six-fifteen, it stopped being cute. Some sort of internal alarm apparently went off.
"Up!" she yelled. "Momma, want up. Daddy, want up. Up! Want up!"
I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to ignore her. Delbert, sensing a serious possibility of getting food, hopped up on the bed, meowed loudly, and batted at my head. All the noise woke Kevin, Mark, and Vanessa's two kids. They clamored down the hall and into the family room, hollering in their high-pitched, kid voices. All four of them piled on top of me and started tickling..
"Off! Get off! All of you. Right now!" I couldn't stop laughing.
Charli stuck her head around the doorway. "Hey! Y'all settle down. Geez, Marty, did you have to get them so wound up so early in the morning?"
I threw my pillow at her. She ducked back out in the hallway, laughing. I randomly tickled a kid or two, tossed back the covers, and escaped from the wriggly, giggly tangle of kid arms and legs.
Charli was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. She gave me a big smile. "I probably should have warned you about my littlest angel."
"She gets up this early every morning?" I asked.
"Every. Single. Morning." She poured us each a glass of juice. "Are you going to Mass with us this morning?"
"I don't think so. I'd probably fall asleep. I'll go to the eleven o'clock service." I sipped my juice. "Did John make it back?"
"No. He had a late meeting. He should be back sometime this afternoon." She handed me a pesto bagel slathered with cream cheese.
"Tim's going to file a missing persons report on Vanessa this morning. I guess we have to tell him about that newspaper clipping and that other piece of paper I found. Did Daddy know what it was?"
"He said Mom was right. Said it was some sort of betting slip. Where do you suppose it came from?"
I shrugged. "I don't have a clue."
The kids were running around squealing and yelling, as usual. I don't know how Charli can stand all that noise all the time. My head was killing me. She settled the five of them around the table with bowls of cereal and juice in spill-proof cups. I downed the rest of my bagel and poured another cup of coffee.
I desperately needed ibuprofen. I went in the family room and dug down in my tote to find some. It was like looking for a logical thought in one of Herb's marketing schemes. I ended up dumping everything out on the bed.
Zach's pictures lay in the midst of all my junk. "Shoot! I must of stuck those in by mistake," I said to Delbert.
I pulled the pictures out and looked through them again. The one of Steve and Zach depressed me. Zach looked so happy and carefree. I hoped that he was okay. I decided to call Fred later on and check.
There were several pictures that I hadn't looked at before. They were mostly group shots: team members clowning around, accepting their trophy, that sort of thing. All except the last one, that is.
"Charli. Hey, Charli, look at this."
She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee and watching the kids eat. "You look like you won the lottery or something. What's up?"
"Here. Look at this picture." I handed her the snapshot.
Her eyes bugged out. "Where did you get this?"
&
nbsp; "Zach's car. When we were going up to the lake. I was looking at them but we got to their place before I got all the way through the stack. I stuck them down in my tote bag by accident."
Charli was still staring at the picture. "Zach took this? I find that hard to believe."
"No. He said Beth was using his camera some that day. She probably took it." I pulled the picture out of Charli's hand and looked at it again. "Do you think that Fred and..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
Charli chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't want to make any bets based on this, but they say a picture is worth a thousand words."
"That's what I think, too." I took the picture back from Charli. "Do you think I oughta ask her?"
"I don't know. Why don't you run it by Tim, see what he thinks."
"No. You know Tim. He'll want to turn it over to Detective Luray. I don't want to do that yet. I mean, it might not be what it looks like."
We finished drinking our coffee and discussed the amazing photograph. The one of Nancy Winslow and Fred Thompson sharing a passionate kiss.
33
By the time Charli and the kids left for church I felt like I'd ran a marathon and rode in the Tour du France all in the same day. As soon as they were all in the van I collapsed on the sofa for about an hour, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Nothing doing. Not with Vanessa still missing and that photo of Nancy and Fred on my mind.
I decided to go home, change clothes, and then see if I could find out if Nancy and Fred were having an affair. How I was going to find out, I didn't know, but surely I'd think of something. The drive home was uneventful. No wrecks, no fires, no good songs playing on the radio.
I parked the big black pickup in front of my building and picked up the kitty carrier. Delbert seemed pretty happy to be getting away from all the kids. He'd been rubbed and petted a whole lot more than normal the last couple of days and had developed a nervous twitch whenever he heard Jaelyn's voice. I shifted his carrier to my left hand and unlocked the apartment door.
It looked okay, nothing really out of place, but it definitely made me feel uncomfortable when I realized that my shower was running. I certainly hadn't left it that way and, as far as I knew, Tim was at work and Zach was still tucked away in the Lake County jail.
I know I should have called Tim, but the water cut off just then. I set Delbert's cage down on the floor and rummaged around in the coat closet for a weapon. The only thing remotely suitable was an old warped tennis racket.
My heart pounded and my knees shook. I crept over by the bathroom door and positioned myself for attack. This stuff was really starting to get on my nerves. I heard the water faucet in the sink come on and the sounds of teeth being brushed. The water went off. A few seconds passed.
The doorknob turned. I held my breath and raised the tennis racket. The door creaked as it swung open. I let out my breath and got ready to bean whoever came out. The tennis racket just missed her.
"Vanessa! It's you! We've been looking everywhere for you!" The tennis racket clattered to the floor.
She jumped back and screamed. “What the heck, Marty! You scared the crap out of me!"
She wore one of my t-shirts -- my favorite George Strait one -- and a pair of shorts, which she’d cinched up with a belt. She looked exhausted.
"You've been here the whole time?"
"No. I was going to leave town, but that piece of crap car Nancy gave me started acting funny. I left it in the Kroger parking lot and came up through the woods. I was just so tired and I didn't know where else to go. I sort of thought I might hide out in the clubhouse for awhile. When I realized you weren't home, I got your key out from under Rowena's mat and let myself in."
She looked around nervously. "Is anybody with you? Tim, Charli, your mom?"
"Just Delbert. Weren't you afraid I'd come home and find you here?"
"No. I, look, I'm sorry about everything, but I gotta get out of here." She pushed past me and went in the bedroom.
The gun. She had a gun. Where was it? I followed her in the bedroom. She sat on my bed and put on her tennis shoes. The gun wasn't anywhere in sight. Her purse was on my dresser, next to the shoe box. I slowly circled over toward it. She leaped off the bed and beat me to it. I was surprised when she grabbed the shoe box and left the purse sitting there.
I picked up the purse and looked in it. No gun.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, Marty?"
I turned around to face her. "Where's the gun?"
"Gone." A nervous glance around the room.
"Gone? Gone where?"
"Just gone. Look, thanks for everything, I'm sorry about all the trouble, but I've really got to scoot.”
"What about your kids. Aren't you worried about them?"
Tears welled up in her eyes. "Of course I'm worried about them. What kind of person do you think I am? It's just, well, I need some time to figure some stuff out. I've got problems, big problems, that I need to solve. Once I take care of everything, I'll make it all up to them."
"What sort of problems?"
"Just problems. Listen, Marty, this is none of your business, you know?"
"Yes, Vanessa, it is my business. You've made it my business." I put my hand on her arm. "Honey, please. Let me help you."
"No. No one can help me." She shook her head sadly. "No one."
"Why don't you let me try? I'm a good listener."
She shook her head again and walked over to the door.
I was getting desperate. "Is it about O'Del?"
She turned around and glared at me. "O'Del? How could it be about O'Del? He's dead."
I pulled the newspaper clipping out of my tote bag and unfolded it. "No. I don't think so. I don't think O'Del is dead."
I held the clipping up so she could see it. She sank to the floor, looking defeated. "How much?"
"What? How much? What are you talking about?"
"How much do you want to keep quiet?"
"Oh, sweetie, no. I don't want anything from you. I just want to help you. Why would you think I'd want money?"
"Everybody else does."
"Everybody else? Like who?" I went over and knelt down beside her. "Who, Vanessa? Who wants money from you?"
No answer.
"Vanessa," I said again, louder this time, "who wants money from you?"
"I can't tell you," she whispered.
"Please, Vanessa. You've got to tell me. What is going on?"
She hugged the shoe box to her and just sat there staring at the floor. Finally, she looked at me and started talking. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"It all started when O'Del lost his job. He looked real hard at first, but after a couple of months he got really discouraged. We fought constantly. He'd hang out on the couch all day, watching TV, eating junk food, and not doing a thing to help with the kids. I guess it was about six months later that I realized he was gambling."
She shook her head. "I don't know, maybe I should have noticed it earlier, but that's when it started getting bad. I tried to use a credit card to buy some shoes and they wouldn't accept it. I tried another one. Same thing. I started checking and found out he'd maxed out all the credit cards getting cash advances. Cashed in our insurance policies. Used all our savings. Even the kid's savings bonds. We'd gotten an equity line on the house when we bought the van and he even maxed it out."
Her voice grew louder with each word. I sat down on the floor beside her and leaned back against the wall.
"He ruined our credit rating. Spent everything we'd worked so hard for, and when I confronted him, he had the nerve to blame it all on me. Can you believe it?"
I didn't say anything, just waited for the rest.
"Anyway, there I was, working my butt off, taking care of the house and the kids, and he starts this crap. Calling me frigid, screaming at me all the time. Stuff like that. I finally told him to either shape up or get out. I even went to see a lawyer.
"That seemed to shake him up. He found a job. It wasn't much -
- he was going to be selling industrial cleaning supplies on a commission only basis -- but it was a start. He went up to Michigan for training. At least that's what he told me."
She stopped and stared down at the shoe box for a long time. "That's when it happened," she said, so quietly I could barely hear her.
"What happened, hon?"
Tears dripped down her face. I went in the bathroom and grabbed a box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
I asked her again. "What happened, Vanessa?"
"You know."
"The only thing I know is what you've told me and what I read in that article," I said.
"Promise you won't tell anyone. Please, Marty! You have to promise."
I didn't want to promise, but what choice did I have? "Okay. I guess I promise."
"Well, you know about the wreck. O'Del wasn't even hurt, much less killed. The police arrested him, but he pretty much got off with a slap on the wrist. I went up there. Tried to talk to him. And you know what that worthless piece of crap did? He ran off with that seventeen year old hooker. I didn't know what to do. Then I thought about just killing him off.
Shock. "You what?"
"Not literally. I don't even know where he is. I just came back here, told everybody he'd been died, and had the memorial service. No one asked any questions or anything. It was perfect. The way I figured it was, that if I could pull it off, the kids wouldn't find out what a louse their daddy turned out to be."
She wiped at her eyes with the tissue. I took one from her and wiped mine too.
"Anyway, it was okay for a couple of months. I kept waiting for somebody to find out. I couldn't believe no one ever checked my story. It took a while, but I started to feel safe. I was really struggling with all the bills and everything, but I was making it. I thought it was all going to work out okay. Was I ever a fool."
She shredded her tissue. "It was back in June. One night Warren showed up at the house with this shoe box full of stuff. He made a great production out of it all. Betting slips, IOUs, pictures of O'Del getting coked up. Then he pulled out the newspaper clipping. Wouldn't you know it, his Grandma Turner used to live in that little town in Michigan and she still took the paper so she could keep up with all her old friends. He knew everything, Marty, absolutely everything.
The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1 Page 19
