by Libby Kirsch
Another customer with perfect timing came out of the bar and hopped into the taxi.
Ike realized around the same moment Janet did that his ride was leaving without him. He hurried after the departing taillights, only to reach down for a handful of rocks to throw at the taxi as it disappeared around the corner. A sudden gust of wind must have blown back some of the gravel and dust, because he doubled over and turned away, scratching at his face.
So there was Ike, drunk and stuck in her parking lot without a way to get home. “Why didn’t he just go back into the bar?” she asked.
Mel shrugged.
Back on-screen, Ike meandered over to his car, opened the door, and sat behind the wheel. Apparently, the car had been unlocked, and maybe Ike had planned to sit there until he’d sobered up before going back inside to ask for his keys.
Minutes passed, and Ike didn’t move from behind the wheel.
“That fool passed out in his own damn car,” Mel said.
Janet grunted and then tapped a few keys. The video zoomed forward and the final customers seemed to race out of the bar. When Janet pressed the space bar again, the video slowed to real time, and Elizabeth, Frank, and Cindy Lou left the building, locked the door, and drove away.
Soon, the only car left in the lot was Ike’s. It was easy to see how the staff, assuming he had taken the taxi home, wouldn’t have given his car a second glance. Janet sent the video forward again, until headlights whipped across the scene.
When she hit play, the time stamp in the lower-right corner of the screen said it was just after three a.m.
Another vehicle, a beat-up SUV, slowly pulled into the lot and parked next to Ike. The driver got out and walked around Ike’s car. It looked like the person knocked on the driver’s-side window. After a moment, Ike climbed unsteadily out of the car and they faced each other.
It was frustrating to watch, not knowing what was really happening on-screen. Was Ike arguing with the other person? Did he know them? Were they trading recipes? Without audio, there was no way to know.
“Oh, whoa! Did you see that?” Mel exclaimed, watching the mystery driver jab at Ike. Ike struck back, and soon his arms swung around in wild circles.
“Holy—is that—”
“A knife? Yeah.” Mel’s hand snaked out and hit the space bar. “Didn’t the cops say that Ike carried some kind of army knife?”
“Yes,” Janet said. “He used the bottle opener a time or two at the bar when our service wasn’t speedy enough. But O’Dell told me Ike’s own knife killed him. That knife kills him.”
She started the video back up. One of Ike’s wild swings landed a blow, and the other person dropped to the ground like a keg pushed off a shelf. Ike continued to stumble around, finally falling in a heap next to the other person. Janet stared, unblinking, at the screen for several minutes, but nothing else happened.
She turned to her new bouncer, who looked as confused as she felt, and took her hand away from her mouth. “This is crazy!” She jumped out of her chair, too wired to sit still. “Are the police missing both Ike’s car and a second body?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Wait, wait.” Mel held her hand out toward Janet. “Didn’t you tell me that you found Ike’s body by the Dumpster?”
“You’re right. Of course,” Janet said. “Something else has to happen here.” She sat back down and fast-forwarded the video. “What, though?” she asked quietly as the scene flickered past. “What else happens?”
She and Mel watched things unfold with mounting incredulity.
At 3:34, the stranger lying on the ground stood unsteadily, then got into their car and drove away. Just minutes later, yet another stranger meandered over to the remaining body lying on the ground. Ike came to and wobbled to his feet, but his arm swung wild circles, and the two moved across the lot and disappeared into the alley, out of view of the camera. Before long, a car pulled into Old Ben’s lot. The driver left the car in the side lot and walked to the alley. After about ten minutes, Ike’s car started to move.
Janet spluttered, “What—who—”
Mel leaned toward the screen and squinted. “What in the hell?”
Ike’s car drove away, but who was behind the wheel? They rewound the video for another look.
“There!” Mel slowed the video. Someone streaked around the front of the building and ran under the eaves until they were even with Ike’s car. They’d missed it the first time through because their eyes had been glued to the other side of the screen. The mystery person looked both ways, then dashed to Ike’s car. Within seconds, the vehicle—no lights on, merely a dark splotch on the screen—backed out of the lot.
Janet paused the video and turned to her bouncer. “They either hot-wired that car in record time or had the key.” Mel gave her a significant look and she started up the video again.
Another ten minutes passed, and then, at 3:56, two people emerged from the alley. They paused in the parking lot and one of them flailed their arms, alternately pointing between the bar and where Ike’s car had been just minutes earlier. After another minute, they climbed into the waiting car and drove away.
“What just happened?” Janet turned to Mel. The other woman’s hand pushed her hair back from her face, pulling her expression unnaturally tight.
“The last person to fight with Ike called for a ride away from the crime, and left his body by the Dumpster.”
“But then who took Ike’s car?”
Mel shrugged.
Janet turned to squint at the screen. “There are clearly several people with information on what happened that night. I can’t believe no one has come forward!”
“The deck is always stacked against the police, but this time . . . maybe more than usual, huh?” Mel said. “Do you think Jason left this out for you—on purpose?”
Janet scoffed. “He probably just forgot it was on the screen. He hasn’t been any help in this case from day one.”
Mel looked around the kitchen, which was spotless—empty, really, except for the two monitors, hard drive, and keyboard.
“I don’t know. Looks to me like he wanted you to watch it.”
“If that’s true, then why isn’t he here with me? Why is he having me do it on my own?”
Mel didn’t answer, because there was no answer. The truth was Jason had abandoned her at the worst time possible.
Finally, Mel said, “Well, we just learned a lot about what happened, but we can’t really tell who all the players are—the camera was just too far away.”
Janet scrutinized the screen. Mel was right.
“Maybe my dad will come up with something,” she said, and pushed up from the stool.
“Your dad? Does he live here in town?”
“No, but his reach is impressive,” Janet said. Mel looked confused, but Janet plowed on. “I’ll give him one more day. If he doesn’t find anything, then I’ll call O’Dell.”
“Why wait?” Mel asked. “Why not give this to the police now—let them figure it out?”
“Like you said, the video isn’t exactly crisp.” Janet paced behind the bar stools. “They might try and make the case that one of the people in the lot was Jason. They’ve been reckless with facts from the beginning. No way am I giving them evidence they might use against us.”
“Yeah, but maybe they can make sense of it all,” Mel said, then, when Janet looked doubtfully back she added, “I counted three people in the parking lot between the time the staff left and dawn. That’s three people who knew about the body and didn’t call the police.”
“You’re right. I need to track them down.”
Mel looked at her like she’d announced a new, all-craft-beer menu for the bar. “You shouldn’t be tracking anybody down—those people are involved in a murder. Besides, you don’t have time. You need to find Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?” Janet said doubtfully.
“She must have seen something—that’s why she took off. Let’s operate under the assumption t
hat she’s okay—but in hiding.”
“Well how the hell would I know where to find her?”
“Put your head into this one, Janet. You’ve worked with her for two years. Where would she go in a crisis?”
Mel got up to leave.
“Where are you going?” Janet asked, shocked that Mel, too, was abandoning her.
“I have to go help with Hazel,” Mel said, looking at her watch. “I told Kat she could nap through the lunchtime wake-eat-nap rotation. But I can’t help you now anyway—I’ve never even met Elizabeth. Use your head. Find Elizabeth and I bet things might start making sense.”
After Mel left, Janet sat in silence for over an hour, replaying everything she’d heard, said, or done since she found Ike’s body behind her bar.
She thought about Larsa feeling the pull of family obligation after Ike died, and how she was leaning on her father now to help dig up some information.
It would stand to reason that Elizabeth might turn to family if she felt like she was in trouble, and in her case, turning to family was as easy as going to them, where they were: the cemetery.
Janet’s breath hummed out her lips, and the sound echoed in the deserted room.
The first five cemeteries she’d tried all had automated menus and she couldn’t get a live voice on the phone, no matter which buttons she pressed. If only one could search online for gravestone locations. She groaned—it would take days to drive to every cemetery and search for Elizabeth.
Put your head into this one, Janet.
“Goddaaa—” Janet stopped the curse mid-syllable. God. In a land of Southern Baptists, Elizabeth was Catholic. Her mother would be buried in the Catholic cemetery in town. The only one.
She looked up the address and grabbed her keys. The oppressive heat hardly registered, because when her finger pressed against the key to unlock her car door, there wasn’t a corresponding thump of pain. Hallelujah! She nearly giggled at the normalcy of the movement. Saved by the doctor, and all it cost her was half a beer and his raving lunatic wife shouting at her—not a bad trade, really. Hardly different from any other night at the bar.
Her car was scalding, so she dropped the windows, and the wind whipped her hair around her face as she drove through town. She needed breakfast—and coffee, and, frankly, a toothbrush—but first, she was going to find Elizabeth.
Calvary Catholic Cemetery had been serving the Knoxville area since 1869. Looking at the graffiti-covered sign at the entrance, it wasn’t hard to imagine kids from the middle school nearby accepting dares to deface the sign—or worse. The grounds were close to downtown, and though the area was large, it had a city feel to it. She came to a stop at the entrance and looked over the posted map to get the lay of the land.
She had no idea where Elizabeth’s mother might be buried, but with the engine off and the heat seeping into her car, the idea that Elizabeth might have been camping out at the cemetery for the last few days suddenly seemed ludicrous.
Okay, so if not outside where her mother was buried, why not inside a church?
A quick Internet search on her phone told her that Elizabeth’s mother’s funeral mass had been held nearby at Holy Ghost Catholic Church.
Janet cranked the engine again and did a U-turn back onto the main road. Within minutes, she spotted the church, but just before she turned the wheel, a cyclist passed her on the right. She slammed on her brakes, fishtailing to a stop on the road, narrowly avoiding the rear wheel of the bike. The cyclist shouted out some curse words and pedaled away. Janet, her heart beating fast, cursed right back.
“Don’t pass a car that’s turning! I had my signal on, you asshole!”
The curse word echoed out of her window around the church lot and Janet sucked on her lower lip. What an entrance.
She parked and stared at the stained-glass windows, gleaming in the early-morning sunshine. She hadn’t been to a church since her own mother died several years earlier. After another minute of uncertainty, she climbed out of the car and walked up to the structure before she could change her mind.
With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and went in.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The church was dark and cool, lit only by candles and the sunlight that managed to eke past the colored glass windows. After the initial whoosh of cold air hit her in the face, she breathed in the familiar combination of incense and wood polish. It took a moment for Janet’s eyes to adjust, but when they did, she wasn’t any closer to knowing where to go.
Several people sat in pews, sprinkled throughout the enormous nave, and Janet eyed each of them as she crept down the side aisle. One head of glossy, golden hair stood out among the bluish-white tresses. As Janet got closer, the woman’s long hair looked darker than usual, and Janet stopped, suddenly unsure. But when the woman tossed her twisty braid over her shoulder with a familiar flip, she knew it was Elizabeth. She’d been watching her do that hair flip for two years.
Janet crept into the row just behind her and lowered the kneeler. Elizabeth’s back stiffened when she became aware that someone was near, but she relaxed a fraction when Janet spoke.
“Feels like the world has been looking for you these last few days, E.”
“I’ve been here the whole time. Go figure, huh?”
“No one’s seen you—not even your neighbor.”
“Well, that’s what I told him to say. He’s a good egg—been nice to me since my mom died.” Elizabeth’s hair was greasy, as if it hadn’t been washed in days. When she turned to the side, her face, usually young and fresh, appeared haggard, with dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale and drawn. “He even offered to take care of Bitsy until I could come back.”
“Bitsy, that little brown ball of hair? She’s your dog?” Elizabeth nodded.
Old Paul had played her like a fiddle. She’d have to remember his deaf-and-don’t-like-anyone game and use it in the future.
“Why are you here?” Janet finally asked. “What happened the night Ike was killed, Elizabeth?”
“It’s . . . I don’t even . . .” She shook her head and finally turned in the pew to look at Janet. “I think I’m in real trouble, and there’s no one who can help me.”
“I’m here—I can help you. I’m on your side, no matter what.”
“What about all those messages?” She held up her cell phone and fixed Janet with an unblinking stare. “Why were you calling me?”
“The—the messages?” Janet asked, stalling for time. Now was not the best time to bring up her suspicion that Elizabeth was the one who’d been stealing from her.
“Yes, like this one.” Elizabeth tapped a few buttons on her phone and added, “It’s from the morning after Ike was killed.”
Janet’s peeved voice piped out of the phone’s tiny speakers, causing an old man two rows away to look over and frown. “Elizabeth, it’s Janet. We need to talk, and I’m not jumping to any conclusions, but there’s a situation here and I guess you need to come in.”
“Oh, that.” Janet blanched, scrambling for an excuse. “It was just . . . it was about Ike being dead. I mean, if that’s not a situation, I don’t know what—”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “The message isn’t over.”
Sure enough, after a long pause, her voice continued. Janet apparently hadn’t properly disconnected the call. She was now speaking to Jason on the landline in the office, her voice still recorded by Elizabeth’s voicemail.
“Well, Jay, I called her, and we’ll see if she has the balls to come in or if she just never shows her face here again. Shit. Either way, I guess the stealing will stop, so I don’t care which way it goes.”
Janet winced as the curse word echoed off the vaulted ceiling, and she realized with striking finality that everyone was right: the cursing had to stop. She sounded like an angry preteen trying out foul language for the first time.
She cleared her throat, stalling. Elizabeth turned back to the altar, letting Janet fumble.
“Elizabeth, I
don’t care about that now. I care about what happened outside the Spot Wednesday night—or Thursday morning—and why you’ve been on the run ever since.”
Elizabeth nodded grimly. “That’s what I thought. You don’t care about me, just your business. I figured as much. It’s why I’ve been here. Father Andrew said I could stay as long as I like.”
“You want to stay here?” Janet asked, stung by the insinuation, and by the fact that Elizabeth had seen through her so easily.
“No, but I’m not going to trust anyone to help, because what’s going down is big and ugly, and it’s not going to turn out all right just because I want it to. There are more things at play here than you could possibly imagine, and I’m not sure how all this ends up with me okay—with me . . . not . . . dead.”
“Okay, let’s not be dramatic—”
“Dramatic? There’s a cop out there willing to help cover up a crime—a murder! He’s actively keeping a killer safe, and you think I’m being dramatic? I saw him, okay? I saw him.”
Janet leaned forward, glad they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. “A cop? What did you see, Elizabeth?”
“Nope.” Elizabeth shook her head and moved a few feet down the pew, away from Janet. “See, that’s just what I didn’t want to say. I don’t know anything, because nothing I say is going to make a difference.”
“Elizabeth, Jason found some video of the crime. I sort of know what happened—just not who did what.”
The young woman turned around and looked back at Janet through narrowed eyes. “Then it sounds like you don’t know anything.”
Janet grimaced; it did sound like that. “Elizabeth, we have surveillance video from the night Ike was killed. The police don’t know about it yet, but the video quality isn’t the best. We can see there were more people involved than the police know, but you’re the missing link. If you know something, combined with the video, we can give the police a better idea of what happened—of who killed Ike.”
“That’s just it, Janet. Don’t you see? The police are involved. They killed Ike—or at least helped cover it up—and that means it’s only a matter of time before I wind up in jail. Or dead.”
