A Flight of Fantasy (Sarah Woods Mystery 12)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  Chapter 7

  About ten minutes after Rita entered the house, she came right back out again. This time she was dressed more casually in jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail and it looked like maybe she had removed some of her make-up. The reading glasses really threw me off. For a second I thought this couldn’t possibly be the same woman. The transformation was astounding. She went from glamorous movie-star gorgeous to average everyday woman but it was definitely her. I’m not exactly sure why I was so convinced; however I was positive she was the same person.

  I was about to pick up my cell to call Carter, anticipating she might get in her car to go someplace, but she didn’t. Instead, she took a left out of her house, walked across the lawn to the next-door neighbor’s house and knocked on the door.

  Someone let her in, an older woman, and Rita disappeared inside. I waited another three or four minutes. When the door opened again, Rita came out, holding the hand of a young girl with brown pigtails. I estimated the girl to be around five or six years old. She skipped happily alongside Rita and I surmised this must be Rita’s daughter. My heart gave a little jerk of empathy when I saw the girl’s face and realized she had Downs’ Syndrome.

  When Rita and the girl were back inside their own house, I dialed Carter’s number.

  “I think Rita has a kid. About five or six years old. Her next door neighbor babysits. Have you had any luck finding out who owns this house?”

  “Not yet. I’m still working on it.”

  “Want me to stay here or come get you?”

  “Why don’t you stay there for a little while longer?”

  “Okay. Call me as soon as you know something.”

  I tossed the phone on the passenger seat and tried to get comfortable. I was starting to get cold since the sun had gone down. The rain had subsided but there was still a chill in the air. I found a scarf in my back seat and wrapped it around me.

  I sat there watching the house for almost twenty minutes before Carter called back.

  “Anything going on?’ he asked.

  “No. Just sitting here cold and hungry. Did you find her real name?”

  “Yep. Her name is Reece Dutton and she owns the house you’re looking at. She’s thirty-three years old, has been divorced a few years and has one child, a daughter named Amy but, get this, she works as a guidance counselor at Fitch high school.”

  “If she’s gainfully employed then why is she hooking on the side?”

  “Good question,” he said. “Maybe her ex isn’t helping with child support and she needs to subsidize her income.”

  “So what next? Should we call Wayne and tell him we found her?”

  “I still want to try and find out who paid her to sleep with Wayne Thursday night.”

  “Well, there’s no point in me hanging around here any longer. Why don’t I come get you at the hotel?”

  “Thanks. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

  Once I picked Carter up, he suggested we grab a bite to eat. Since I was starving, I wholeheartedly agreed. We found a Papa Gino’s, went inside and ordered a large veggie pizza.

  After getting comfortable at a booth, we discussed how best to proceed with the investigation.

  “Wayne just wanted to know Rita’s real name,” I said. “So, technically, the job is done, right?”

  “Wayne will want to know who hired her. He’s the one we’re really looking for.”

  “Unless Reece was lying to you,” I said. “Maybe the story she told you about the guy at the mall was bogus. I mean, it sounded pretty unbelievable to me.”

  “You might be right. Either way, we should let Wayne know the score.”

  Chapter 8

  When we told Wayne that Rita’s real name was Reece Dutton and that she worked as a prostitute, his expression was filled with hurt and confusion.

  “I had no idea she was a prostitute,” he said, hanging his head in shame.

  “She told us that a guy paid her two thousand dollars to get you to take her home,” Carter said. “Any ideas? Is it possible someone you work with played a prank on you?”

  “No. Why would anyone waste two grand on a practical joke like that?” Wayne stood up and began to pace the room slowly like a lost soul. “So what do we do now?”

  “Well, Sarah and I can keep working on this with the hope of finding this guy who paid Reece to sleep with you. She gave us a vague description of him. Middle aged, about six feet tall, well dressed. Can you think of anyone who fits that?”

  Wayne pursed his lips, eyes focused straight ahead as if in deep thought. “That pretty much describes most of the guys I work with. As I said, though, none of them would have done this. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe that prostitute is lying to throw you guys off.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Carter agreed, “but she seemed pretty sincere to me. Here’s what I suggest. Let us go to the Cambridge mall and ask around. Maybe someone there will be able to confirm seeing Reece talking to the man who fits the description last Thursday around lunchtime.”

  “Fine,” Wayne said. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  I stared out the windshield as the rain pelted down. The highway was deserted at this hour but Carter was driving faster than he should have been in the circumstances. I’ve learned not to be a back seat driver with him, so I kept my opinions to myself.

  When Carter pulled up to my apartment it was 9:25pm and probably too late to offer him a nightcap. We’d had a long day and I was exhausted. Carter seemed a little droopy-eyed as well. I leaned toward him, placing my hand on his leg. “Pick me up in the morning?”

  He offered a tired smile as he softly pinched my chin. “You bet.”

  I waited half a beat, just to see if he’d lean over and kiss me, but he didn’t. The small display of affection on my chin was apparently all he was willing to give. “You’re feeling guilty about Max, aren’t you?”

  He blinked at me but remained quiet.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I grabbed my purse and was about to open the door when he cleared his throat.

  “Sarah, I think you need to realize something.”

  I turned to look at him. “What do I need to realize?”

  “Max is still hung up on you. He still thinks you two have unfinished business.”

  “He said that to you?”

  “Not in those exact words, but I sensed he feels that way. I don’t want to tell you what to do about it, but maybe you need to make things a little clearer to him.”

  “He won’t return my emails. So how am I supposed to do that?”

  “Emails?” Carter said with a chuckle. “Why don’t you just call him? Or are you afraid to actually talk to him?”

  I was about to protest to that, but then I realized Carter was correct. I had been avoiding calling Max because I didn’t want to hear the hurt in his voice. “I thought I had made things perfectly clear to him the last time I saw him. It was his choice to move away. He never included me in that decision. He just assumed I’d uproot my life to follow him clear across the country.”

  “I understand, but he’s obviously still confused.”

  “Well, then,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to un-confuse him, won’t I?”

  Carter took my hand and brought it up to lightly graze his lips. “Do me a favor? Just call Max and settle things with him. Make him understand that it’s over.”

  “I thought I already did that, but I’ll do it again, for you.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  When I got up to my apartment, I slipped into my pajamas and sat on the bed with phone in hand. I glanced at the clock; 9:56pm. California is three hours ahead, so it would be 6:56pm there. I dialed Max’s number and waited.

  After a few ring tones, the call went to voicemail and, I’ll admit, I was relieved.

  I left a short message. “Hey Max, it’s Sarah. Thought I might catch you, but you’re probably busy. Could you give me a call when you get the chance? I’d like to see how y
ou’re doing and have a little chat. Bye for now.”

  When I ended the call, I let out a long sigh and collapsed on the bed. Why so nervous? Did it mean I still had feelings for Max? Of course, I knew that I did. You can’t just turn off those feelings like a light switch but I had known my time with Max was limited from the very beginning of our romance. He was seven years younger and wanted to get married and have a family. I had already done that and I didn’t want to start over. Not that Max ever came close to a proposal. I think he knew I wasn’t even a candidate. So why would he have an issue with letting go?

  I’m an analytical person by nature, so I’m constantly trying to figure out why people do the things they do. Sometimes the answers are obvious and sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason. I become fixated on finding a solution, an answer that explains why. I have also realized that sometimes there is no answer and I am wasting my time trying to invent one.

  After an hour with no return call from Max, I decided to turn my cell phone off.

  Wouldn’t it be ironic if Max were on a date?

  Chapter 9

  Monday, October 19

  The next morning, the first thing I did before getting out of bed, was check my phone. A message from Max was waiting for me. Came in at 6:45am.

  “Sarah, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t get right back to you last night. Just landed in New York City and saw you called. I’ll be tied up with business meetings this morning but maybe we can chat later this afternoon. I’m going to be in Boston tomorrow night. Maybe if you have time, we can get together for dinner or something. Call and let me know.”

  So, he’s in New York for business. I was under the impression that his new job wouldn’t require him to travel as much, which was one of the reasons he’d accepted the position.

  Hearing his voice again triggered something inside me. Not quite longing, but something close to it. I didn’t need this confusion in my life right now but I did want to see him. I called him back and left a message, saying dinner sounded good to me.

  I tried to force the image of him from my mind. I made some coffee, jumped in the shower and was ready to go by the time Carter arrived at 10:00am.

  When I got in the Buick, I decided to keep the conversation all business. “So, we’re heading to the Cambridge Mall?”

  “Yep. I printed out a few more copies of Reece’s photo to show around to the people who work at the Panini sandwich shop. If one of them remembers seeing her talking to a man last Thursday, then at least we’ll know she’s telling us the truth.”

  It was a quiet ride down 95 south and Carter didn’t have much to say. I decided not to mention Max’s call for the time being. I’d deal with that subject later.

  It was a little past eleven when we parked outside of Macy’s and strolled through the store to where the mall began. Sure enough, Panini Heaven was located exactly where Reece said it was.

  We approached the counter and showed Reece’s photo to all the employees. Nobody recognized her at all.

  “Are you sure?” Carter asked them. “Her name is Reece Dutton. She says this is her favorite place to have lunch. Try to picture her with reading glasses and a ponytail.”

  Nope. No takers.

  As Carter and I walked back through Macy’s toward the Mall exit, he kept shaking his head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “That’s because Reece lied to us,” I said. “There was no guy who hired her to sleep with Wayne. I knew that story sounded too fishy to be true.”

  Back in the car, we sat for a few minutes to collect our thoughts.

  “Maybe Reece is just stealing credit card numbers,” I said. “Think about it. She goes to bars to pick up wealthy men, men who are either gullible or appear desperate for female companionship. She gets them to bring her home and then steals their personal information. The easiest and fastest way to do that is to download computer files. Then she wracks up charges on their credit cards before the poor sap has a chance to know what hit him.”

  “She’d have to be a technical whiz to pull that off. She’d also need passwords to even access his computer files. If she’s only an escort/guidance counselor, then I doubt she possesses those skills.”

  I shrugged. “It might have nothing to do with computer skills. She’s well versed in human nature. She knows the right questions to ask. She is also beautiful and sexy, which most men can’t resist. She probably knew the passwords to all of Wayne’s devices before he even brought her home.”

  “If you’re right, then it’s likely she’s done this to other unsuspecting men.”

  “So, what are we gonna do about it? If Wayne is going to convince the police that Reece stole his information, we need more proof.”

  “Then let’s get it,” Carter said.

  * * *

  Since the Mazda wasn’t parked in Reece’s driveway, we assumed nobody was home.

  “It’s Monday, so Reece must be working her day job,” Carter said. “Her daughter must go to a special school if she has learning disabilities.”

  “Only thing I’m worried about is the neighbor,” I said, pointing to the small cape next to Reece’s. “That’s where she picked her daughter up last night and it looks as though she is home. One of us needs to distract her while the other gets inside Reece’s house. We don’t want the cops showing up.”

  “If you feel comfortable, why don’t you get inside her house,” he said. “It will look less conspicuous. If anyone comes over to ask what you’re doing, you could always say that you and Reece are friends and she’s asked you to pick something up for her.”

  “I like that idea,” I said. “Hopefully she doesn’t have a security alarm in place.” I reached into my purse for the ring of lock picks. “I’ll need at least ten minutes to look around.”

  “Don’t worry about the neighbor,” Carter said. “I have it covered.”

  “Shit. I hope Rita doesn’t have a dog. Last thing I need is another trip to the emergency room for stitches.”

  “At least you already got the tetanus shot.”

  I chuckled. “I love how you always see the positive side of things.”

  Carter leaned over to caress my face. “Be careful, okay?”

  “I always am.”

  When I exited the Buick, I casually strolled across the street like I lived in the neighborhood. I went right up to Reece’s front door and pretended to look for a key in my purse, but what I was really doing was trying to find the right sized lock pick. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carter approach the neighbor’s house. He was wearing a dark blue jacket with a name embroidered on the front. I could only imagine he was impersonating a utility worker of some kind.

  Miraculously, I got inside Rita’s house without much fuss. I had become quite adept at breaking and entering, without having to break a thing. And my heart slowed down once I realized there were no attack dogs coming for me. I slipped on my plastic gloves and went to work.

  The place was neat and tidy and smelled like lemon cleaning agents. Reece was a good housekeeper.

  There were three bedrooms. A master with a queen sized bed that I assumed was Reece’s. A smaller room with a pink bedspread and dolls that must be her daughter’s room, and another small room that served as an office.

  A laptop computer sat atop a small desk that appeared extremely organized. Even the pens were arranged neatly alongside a stack of printer paper. A framed photo of her daughter was the only personal item on the desk. Adjacent to the desk was a filing cabinet which opened freely when I pulled on the handle. Inside were folders containing utility bills, mortgage information, car registrations, insurances, credit card bills and other important documents.

  I noticed that Rita had accrued quite a lot of credit card debt. With half a dozen cards, she must have owed at least thirty-five grand. No wonder she had to sell her body to strangers. Couldn’t afford to pay the minimum monthly payments on a guidance counselor’s paycheck. Curiously, the accounts still had her ex-husband’s name on them. />
  There was nothing to suggest that Rita had been stealing identities. In fact, I could find nothing on Wayne Miller whatsoever. Not even a phone number or an address. If she had stolen his information, where was she keeping it?

  I booted up the laptop but I didn’t have any luck getting beyond the initial screen. I tried typing in a few passwords, like her daughter’s name, but nothing worked. After the third try I gave up and turned the thing off.

  I surmised that Rita must have been hiding her crimes. She wouldn’t keep the evidence in plain sight. She’d probably keep them in a spot that nobody would think to look.

  I went back into her daughter’s bedroom and searched through all the drawers, under the bed and in the closet. I hated myself for doing it. Rummaging through this little girl’s things seemed so wrong on every level. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was most likely a clever liar and thief.

  I could tell that Rita was a doting mother. Her daughter had everything a little girl could desire. Much care had been taken to decorate the room. Alongside the far wall, a hand painted mural of unicorns and fairies and rainbows. The bed looked like it came out of a Cinderella storybook. A whole chest contained dolls and elaborate dress-up costumes. The bookshelf must have contained at least a hundred volumes, mostly classics like Little Women and Treasure Island but also more recent popular stories like Harry Potter and Diary of a Wimpy Kid. There was no T.V or computer in the room, which I found interesting. Did she not allow her daughter to watch T.V?

  I had to snap out of this reverie and get back to work.

  I left the room exactly as I’d found it and went into Rita’s bedroom to do the same search. In the closet were all kinds of classy outfits. Most of her attire was casual, like one would expect of a guidance counselor. Some of the dresses were brand names that I could never afford in a million years. I wondered if she bought these outfits herself, or if she had a sugar daddy somewhere who bought her expensive gifts. Might even be one of her Johns. Or maybe she purchased them used at a second hand store. At any rate, she had style and a great body to wear it well.