Whatever his frustrations in life with Gladys, Marvin never complained. And he adored their daughter.
“To answer your question, Chief Ferris,” said Gladys, “yes, I saw a young man hanging around in front of the condos about five fifteen yesterday. I always walk my little munchkin between five and six so I know exactly what time it was.”
“How young a man?” asked Lew. “Teenager? Someone in their twenties? Or thirties? Can you describe his appearance, please?”
“I’d put him about twenty years old. Brown hair, nice haircut. He was wearing jeans—clean jeans—and a light blue shirt.” Lew took notes as Gladys spoke.
“Shoes?”
“Yes, he wore shoes.”
“What kind of shoes? Tennis shoes? Hiking boots? Could you see his shoes?”
“Brown—regular shoes. Like men wear to an office.”
“So you must have gotten pretty close to have seen all that.”
“Not real close but I could certainly see him. He turned to look at me, too, because Polly was barking at him.”
“Oh—so you did see his face?”
“Oh yes, I did. Nice looking boy. Square-ish head with dark eyes … I think.”
“Does that bother you?” asked Osborne who was taking his own notes.
“For heaven’s sake, Paul. Why should it?”
“No reason. Just … wondering.”
During a quiet moment while Lew and Osborne continued to take notes, Gladys tipped her head to one side and stared down at a pattern on the Oriental rug in front of her. The vacant expression on her face surprised Osborne. After observing her for a few seconds, he assumed that maybe she was just thinking, trying to remember.
“Could you identify this young man from a photo?” asked Lew.
Gladys looked up, startled. “Very likely. Yes, I’m sure I could.”
“Have you ever seen this person before?” asked Lew. “Perhaps he was another resident of the condos?”
“Well, I doubt that. I walk there every day and I know who comes and goes.”
I’ll bet you do, thought Osborne. Nosy bitch.
He recalled now an incident one summer when Mallory and Cynthia, the latter home from boarding school, were caught with a bunch of other kids having a beer party in the woods. It was Gladys who put the word out that Mallory had been the ringleader—and that sex and drugs were involved. Her version had Cynthia arriving at the party late—after the rampant bad behavior.
The rumor was vicious enough that Mallory was dropped from the summer tennis team. The truth was that a couple of boys who were close friends of his daughter’s had organized the get-together and, yes, there was beer, but that was all.
Though Mallory had confessed to her parents who was involved, Osborne had insisted she take her punishment and never tell on the others. He then called Gladys to say that she and Marvin should find another dentist. That was all he said. He did not add that he wanted nothing to do with her. Ever.
“I’m sure that I—” Gladys started to say when with a yelp the dog leaped across her lap and onto the library table, knocking over the Chinese lamp, which tipped in slow motion toward the floor.
Osborne jumped to his feet and crossed the room in hopes of catching the lamp before it hit but the dog’s leg tangled in a silk runner under the lamp, pulling the table over onto the lamp, which, amazingly, did not break. Gladys dropped onto her knees to untangle the dog.
“Oh, golly, Gladys—are you all right?” asked Osborne as he reached behind her to raise the table.
“Don’t touch that!” said Gladys.
“But the table is heavy—”
“I’ll do it. You leave it alone.” The dog ran off and Gladys pushed herself to her feet. She grabbed the table with both hands and gave it a shove up. “There,” she said, dusting her hands before setting the runner back on the table. “I exercise at Curves every day and I walk two miles. I don’t need your help.”
She picked up the lamp and set it back on the table. “Polly does this all the time,” she said as she sat back down in the wingchair. “Now, what were you asking?”
“Give me a moment,” said Lew, studying the notepad in front of her. While Lew checked over her notes, Osborne saw Gladys strike the odd pose again. Both arms in her lap this time, her hands clasped between her knees, she leaned ever so slightly to one side. Her eyes were focused on the floor and, again, she appeared to have her mind elsewhere.
“Okay, Mrs. Daniels, I have one more question for you,” said Lew. Gladys’s head jerked. It was as if she had forgotten they were there.
“Does your daughter live here with you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Gladys, her tone hostile.
“Just confirming who travels the road between here and the condo complex on a regular basis,” said Lew. “I don’t mean to upset you. It’s a question we’re asking all the people living within two miles of the condo.”
“Yes,” said Gladys with a huff. “If you must know, she lives in the guest house down near the water. And, you know,” Gladys looked off as she spoke, “that poor girl puts in way too many hours. She should never have gone into medicine. I blame her father for encouraging that. She should be married, raising children and keeping a lovely home.” Gladys looked like she was about to cry.
Osborne couldn’t resist. “Gladys,” he said in the tone he used when advising patients to either floss or lose their teeth, “Cynthia works thirty-six hours a week. That is barely full-time and I’m sure she is very well paid.”
“Mrs. Daniels,” said Lew, breaking in as if worried there might be fireworks, “thank you for your time. I hope to have photos of suspects very soon. When I do, will you mind coming down to the station to see if you recognize the man you saw? Do you drive?”
“Of course I drive,” said Gladys, getting to her feet. “Yes, I would be happy to come to the station, just call when you’re ready.”
“I have a question,” said Osborne as he stood up. “What time did Cynthia get home from the clinic yesterday?”
At that Gladys’s face turned as livid as her shirt. “My daughter’s schedule is none of your business, Paul. Now you stay out of this!” She shook a finger at him. “You never liked Cynthia—just because she is smarter and prettier than that silly daughter of yours. You leave her out of this.
“If you want to … to … You should be asking about that … that awful girl who was killed. That’s who you should be asking questions about—not my Cynthia.”
“What about that girl?” asked Lew. “Did you know Jennifer Williams?”
“No! I just know about her is all. She was a whore. The entire hospital knows that.”
“You mean ‘the clinic’?” said Lew in a gentle voice.
“The clinic, the hospital—who the hell cares.” Gladys’s jowls shook so ferociously Osborne worried she would burst a blood vessel or worse. God forbid he should have to do CPR on the woman.
“I believe we can check with Dr. Daniels on the time of her arrival at home yesterday,” said Lew. Her placating tone calmed Gladys.
“Where’s my Polly?” Gladys peered around the room, then knelt to look under the chair she had been sitting in.
“We’ll show ourselves out, Mrs. Daniels. Thank you for your time.”
Chapter Twelve
As Lew turned left off Bobcat Lane and onto the county road, she glanced over at Osborne. He was staring out the passenger-side window, a pained expression on his face.
“Doc, you haven’t said a word since getting in the car. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine. Lew watched him run a hand through his hair as if the gesture might clear his mind. Crossing his arms, he slouched back against the seat. He looked exhausted.
She checked the rearview mirror. No vehicles in sight. Pulling onto the shoulder and putting the car in park, she said, “What is it? You don’t look so good.”
Inhaling through gritted teeth, Osborne said, �
��O-o-h, it’s that woman. Being around her brings back so … many … unpleasant memories.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll get over it.”
Lew studied his face, hoping to see him lighten up a little but the expression on his face remained somber. “Well, if you ask me,” she said in a lighthearted tone as she turned toward him, “Gladys Daniels is in dire need of an anger management intervention. Not a class, not a training session—an intervention.” Osborne didn’t smile.
She placed a hand on his knee. “Honestly, Doc, you look like you lost your best friend.”
“Did you see the way her body changed? How she got that strange look on her face?” he asked.
“I did. It was like shape-shifting,” said Lew. “For a minute I thought she might be having a stroke. Or turning into a werewolf.” Lew checked for a shadow of a grin but no luck.
“And her anger when I asked what time Cynthia had arrived home?”
“Now that was not rational,” said Lew. “The woman is unstable. No doubt about it.”
Turning away from the side window and with a sidelong glance at Lew, Osborne spoke in a voice so low Lew could barely hear him: “Mary Lee behaved like that when she was angry. She would explode. Come at me like an animal. Even her voice changed.”
He straightened up and took a deep breath. “She wouldn’t make sense. She would be so angry—her whole body would vibrate. Lew, it was like a different person had entered the room. Scared the living hell out of me.”
“What would you do?”
“Agree to whatever the issue was. Anything to calm her down. And … leave. I’d go fishing.” Osborne raised his eyebrows. “Coward’s way out, I know.”
“Doc, did she ever behave that way before you were married?”
“Are you kidding? If she had, I would have been out of there so fast … No, Mary Lee managed to keep her bad behaviors in check until after the girls were born. That’s when all hell broke loose.”
“Did she ever hit you?”
Osborne was quiet for a moment. “She didn’t hit me, but once when we were still living in town she threw a heavy wooden rocking chair through the big plate glass window in our living room. That took strength. I’m not sure I could have done it.”
“What about your daughters? Did she get that angry with them?”
“Not that I am aware of. But I have to say I’ve been afraid to ask.” Osborne mulled over the question. “If she did, I think Erin would have told me. She was never her mother’s favorite. I used to worry that she might hurt the girls—physically or emotionally—but they seemed okay.”
Before Lew could offer words of assurance, Osborne asked, “Where does uncontrolled anger like that come from? You must see it in law enforcement….”
“We do. But there’s no predicting the source. I know what you’re talking about, Doc. My ex would let things simmer, then fly into a rage. Especially after drinking. In his case, it was a family tradition. I should’ve seen it coming.
“Doc,” Lew nudged his shoulder, “you can’t blame yourself for Mary Lee’s actions. You’re a big boy, you know that.”
Osborne managed a sheepish look, “Well … I feel better having talked about it. It’s just … that outburst from Gladys made me feel like I was locked in a room with Mary Lee all over again.” He shook his head in sadness.
Lew reached for his chin and tipped his face toward hers, “For the record? I find you to be a good man. A kind man. Pretty special in my world.”
“Thanks,” said Osborne, his voice soft.
“And there is no percentage in letting the past haunt you. Right?”
“Right.”
Lew put the squad car in gear. Listening to Osborne, she’d felt a wave of tenderness for this gentle man who had been as bruised in the heart as victims whose bodies carried signs of physical abuse.
More than once it had occurred to her that if Osborne’s mother had not died when he was six—leaving him with a father who never remarried and sent his young son off to boarding school—that if he had known what a good marriage could be that he might have avoided Mary Lee.
Might have. On the other hand, you can’t cheat destiny.
They drove through Loon Lake in silence. A few blocks from the police station, Lew spoke up, “Frankly, Doc, even though it was hard on you, I see a plus to what just happened. It’s obvious that Gladys Daniels is disturbed. That calls into question her supposed sighting of the man she alleges to have killed Jennifer Williams.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I’m beginning to wonder if she made the whole thing up. Now I know I’ve told you this before, but I learned a long time ago that the worst witness is an eyewitness. And did you hear the venom in her voice when she talked about Jennifer Williams?”
“Yes,” said Osborne. “That was a surprise.”
“Certainly was. I intend to question her more on that subject. You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to, Doc.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Osborne as she pulled into the police station parking lot and stopped near his car, “although I have one question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“You won’t forget I’ve invited you for dinner and an hour in the boat this evening? I’d like to try that ‘suspended musky’ technique you’ve been telling me about. Might take the kids along, too.”
“The kids?”
“Beth has a friend from basketball camp she’s invited for dinner—a boy.”
“Ha!” said Lew. “Am I brilliant or what? Told ya.” She grinned. “Sure, I’d love to join you later, but it’s already four o’clock. I may not be able to get to your place until six thirty or seven. Is that too late?”
“You bring the bait, I got the boat.”
As Osborne stepped out of the car, Lew leaned forward to say, “One more reason I doubt that old woman. Does it not occur to her that if she really did see someone and someone who knows she could identify him—that she might be in jeopardy? You have to be fairly close to a person to notice they have a ‘nice haircut.’ So why isn’t she concerned for her own safety?”
Lew shook her head, “The more I think about that wacky old woman—she wasted our time.”
“You’re probably right,” said Osborne.
As he climbed into his car, he made a mental note to call his oldest daughter later. Be interesting to hear what she would have to say about Gladys Daniels, the woman who had done her evil best to ruin Mallory’s reputation.
Chapter Thirteen
As Lew hurried into the police station, she spotted a tall, scrawny kid in dirty jeans and a rumpled black T-shirt seated on a bench across from the switchboard. He jumped to his feet as she approached and rushed toward her. Lew stopped short, taken aback to see he was wearing earmuffs under a filthy white baseball cap he’d crammed onto his head—a nutty thing to do on such a hot day.
Was he one of the patients from the mental health center who sometimes drifted into the station convinced the CIA was tapping their phones? But as the kid closed in, Lew got a better look at the earmuffs and relaxed when she saw they were clumps of frizzy hair camouflaging his ears.
“Chief Ferris?” The boy’s voice, high and tense, wavered as he spoke. “I’m the guy with the pickup got stole. Please, you gotta help me. If I don’t have it by tomorrow morning, I’m gonna lose my job.” He was so upset, he was shaking.
“Okay, okay, young man,” said Lew, motioning for him to back off a few feet. “I know about the problem with your truck. Let me check with the supervisor here and see if we’ve made any progress locating it.”
The kid made no move to get out of her way. “I gotta get the truck!”
“I heard you. Now,” said Lew, pointing to the bench and hardening her voice, “sit … down.” He sat.
Lew walked over to the glass partition that separated the switchboard from the main entrance and waiting area. To her surprise, the department’s veteran operator was now
here in sight.
“Dani?” she asked the young intern as she pressed the button that let her into the glass-enclosed space housing the switchboard, “where is Marlaine?”
“Oh, hi Chief Ferris,” said Dani, grinning up at Lew from where she sat in the operator’s chair, “Marlaine left to help her daughter run one of the grandkids to the emergency room. He fell off his bike and may have fractured his skull. So I took over.” Lew couldn’t help noticing that Dani had maneuvered the operator headset into position on her burst of curls so that it looked like she was wearing an electronic tiara.
While Dani knew computers—and hair and makeup—Lew had no confidence in her skills on the police switchboard: radio communication, walkie-talkies, cell phones, smart phones, and 911 calls required serious skills and awareness of legal protocols. Not to mention the ability to determine whether a call from a citizen was an emergency or a prank.
“Ah … Dani?” asked Lew, not sure how to approach the issue without hurting the young woman’s feelings, “sure you know how to handle the calls?” Before Dani could answer, Lew checked her watch. “I’ll see if Robin can’t come in early to hold down the fort.” Robin was Marlaine’s niece and the night operator. She was experienced.
Standing with her back to the waiting area, Lew jerked a thumb in the direction of the kid with the stolen truck: “Any news on that?”
Dani shook her head. “Not that I know of. Only that he’s sure some guy named Alvin Marski stole it. That’s on Marlaine’s note here.” Dani pointed to a legal pad with Marlaine’s scribbles on it. Lew picked up the legal pad to see what else Marlaine had flagged.
“One call you should be aware of, Chief,” said Dani, speaking as if she was the teacher and Lew the student. “There was a break-in out on Squirrel Lake. Roger said he would look into it. He’s out there now.”
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