Thrilled to Death v5

by L. J. Sellers

  “Can we sit and talk for a minute?”

  She slumped into one of the padded chairs. Jackson took the other. Voice soft and trembling, Elle said, “I’ve worried about this for so long. Courtney is fearless and she took everything to an extreme. I suppose I should be relieved she died of an overdose instead of being murdered by some lunatic she picked up.”

  “Why do you assume she died of an overdose?”

  “You said there were no obvious wounds. Knowing Courtney, it seems like a foregone conclusion.” Elle cried as she talked.

  “We don’t know yet how she died. The autopsy will give us more information. The toxicology reports will come in soon and tell us more still.” Jackson remembered the inhaler. “Did Courtney have asthma?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Her inhaler was under her body.”

  “She mostly used it when she was outdoors. Often only in the spring when the temperature changed rapidly.” Elle rocked forward, grief consuming her. “Where is she now? I want to see her.”

  “She’s in the basement of the hospital in an area called Surgery 10. We would like you to officially identify her body as soon as you’re able.”

  Elle sat up straighter and dabbed at the makeup around her eyes. “Brooke will be crushed. Will you tell her?” She looked even more gaunt than he remembered.

  “Yes, but first, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  “Courtney’s last two days. She was missing for twenty-four hours and now she’s inexplicably dead. I have to treat this as a possible homicide until the pathologist tells me differently.”

  “Did anybody even look for her?” A little flicker of anger surfaced.

  “Detective Zapata put out an alert for her yesterday after you reported her missing. You went on television last night and notified the public. I was assigned her case this morning and spent the day investigating. We did everything we could in the little time we had.”

  Elle was quiet for a moment. “Dean and I used to go out looking for Courtney when she was still in high school. Sometimes she would go to a party and not come home. We worried ourselves sick over it.” Elle’s faced crumpled again and she fought for control. She seemed to be aging in front of his eyes.

  Jackson’s grimaced as he remembered his own daughter’s brief involvement with a group of promiscuous kids. “I’m sorry you had a hard time with Courtney. My daughter is fourteen and sometimes I’m terrified about her future.”

  “There’s no point in worrying. Death gets everyone sooner or later.”

  Elle looked so sad, Jackson wanted to comfort her again, but he had to push past all the emotions and get to work. If Courtney had been murdered, or even accidentally harmed by someone, the window of opportunity for finding that person was closing fast.

  “Courtney was at Diego’s Monday night with a group of young women. Do you know who they were?”

  “I told you this morning, I no longer try to keep track of her friends.”

  Jackson looked back at his notes. “Have you ever seen her with a guy described as five-ten, very lean, longish blond hair, and nice face?”

  Elle looked puzzled. “It sounds like Brett, only Brett’s hair is short. Who is this guy?”

  “Someone Courtney was dancing with at Diego’s. Maybe the last person to see her alive.”

  “You should ask Brooke about her friends. She would know more than I do.” Elle’s lower lip trembled. “Will you tell Brooke about Courtney? I don’t think I can without losing it again.”

  “Is she here now?”

  Just then a soft knock on the door interrupted them. A plump woman opened the door and said, “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

  “Thanks, Ursula. We won’t be eating right now. Will you cover everything and save it for later?”

  “Of course.” The cook stayed in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

  “Courtney’s dead, but I can’t talk about it now. After you put everything away, you can go home.”

  Ursula’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry.” She started to say something else, changed her mind, and left.

  Elle pulled her cell phone out of her purse and pressed a single number. A pause, then, “Would you come to my office please? It’s very important.” Another pause. “Now please. We’ll talk when you get here.”

  Jackson couldn’t help but think about how cell phones had changed everyone’s lives. This woman no longer had to walk around her very large house to speak to family members.

  A minute later Brooke breezed into the office, took one look at Jackson, and said, “What has Courtney done now?”

  “Sit down, Brooke. Detective Jackson has something important to tell you.” Tears rolled down Elle’s face.

  Brooke looked concerned but she didn’t sit. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone found Courtney’s body today in the area behind Autzen Stadium. There’s no obvious sign of trauma, so we don’t know what happened to her yet. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

  “Dear God.” Brooke looked stunned and grabbed for a chair. She plopped down and covered her face with her hands. Unlike Elle, Brooke cried noisily.

  Jackson waited for her to get control. Finally, he said, “Brooke, I need to ask you some questions. I need to know about Courtney’s friends, her habits, who she might have known who lived in that area.”

  Brooke looked over at her mother. “Can I have a Valium?” To Jackson, “How am I supposed to sit here and talk about her like nothing happened?”

  “I know it’s difficult, but if Courtney was assaulted by someone, we need to investigate. We need your help.”

  “You mean raped?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Was she naked when you found her?”

  “No.” Jackson had to get control of the conversation. “Was there anything new in Courtney’s life? A change in behavior? A change in mood?”

  Brooke glanced at her mother. “She had a decent boyfriend for a change. And she was partying less, but nothing major.”

  “Do you know the names of the women she drank with at Diego’s on Monday?”

  “No. I’d stopped going there a while back. Too sleazy for me.”

  “Did Courtney have a friend who lived in the Autzen Stadium area?”

  Tears rolled down her face as Brooke talked. “She used to party with some guy who lived farther down, closer to Springfield.”

  “What’s his name and what does he look like?”

  “I think his name is Zack. He’s blond, skinny, and about thirty. I saw him once at Diego’s.” A pause. “Months ago.”

  Jackson felt a little tingle of possibility. Zack could be the guy Courtney was dancing with before she called the taxi. “Last name?”

  “I don’t know.” Brooke reached to the desk for a tissue and blew her nose. “What do you think happened to her?”

  “I really can’t speculate. When she left the house Monday night, did she say anything to you about her plans?”

  “Just that she was going to Diego’s and would be home around midnight.”

  “Were you close to Courtney?” Jackson kept his voice soft.

  “Of course.” Brooke rushed to her mother, bursting into fresh tears as she kneeled next to the chair and hugged her.

  Jackson gave them a moment. He had more questions and normally he would have interviewed them individually, but he wasn’t sure this was a murder investigation. Yet Danette’s disappearance twelve hours before Courtney’s nagged at him. It was very unusual for Eugene, a small city of about 140,000, and even unlikely for the larger metro area that included Springfield and other outlying towns. After a minute, he asked, “Do either of you know Danette Blake?”

  Brooke kissed her mother’s forehead and turned to Jackson. “I don’t. Who is she?”

  “A young woman who disappeared Monday morning.”

  “That’s weird. Do you think there’s some connection?”

 
“I’m just looking at all the possibilities. Where would Courtney go after leaving Diego’s?”

  “To a party, to a guy’s house, maybe to the all-night pancake place on Franklin for something to eat.” Brooke sighed. “Or to the coast, or maybe to Terwilliger Hot Springs. Courtney’s impulsive.”

  Jackson jotted down the restaurant because it was the one place he could actually locate, walk into, and show her picture around. Anxious to talk to the boyfriend, Jackson decided to wrap up. “Is there anything either of you can tell me about Courtney that will help me determine where she was during the last twenty-four hours of her life?”

  After a slight hesitation, Brooke said, “Courtney and Brett were fighting. If she was drunk, she might have called him to start an argument.”

  Chapter 13

  “What do we do if Danette never turns up?” Maggie asked the unthinkable as Kera grabbed her purse and got ready to go out. Maggie held the baby and looked distraught.

  “It’s only been two days. We can’t think like that yet.”

  “I know, but what if two days turns into two weeks, two months, two years? What do I do? Do I just go on with my life?”

  Kera hugged Maggie around the shoulders, wishing there was more she could do. Not knowing the fate of your child would be the worst kind of torture. “Yes, you go on. Let’s give this some time. I’m making headway.”

  Kera left the house feeling guilty about leaving Maggie with Micah again. Someone had to look for Danette though. She’d called Detective Zapata this morning and came away with the impression he thought there wasn’t much he could do. Later she’d received a message on Facebook from one of Danette’s friends who said she thought Chad worked at the Red Apple market on 6th Avenue.

  Kera’s first stop was at the printers to pick up the posters she’d designed. Afterward, she would head to the market and see if she could determine Chad’s last name. She planned to go back to Danette’s house to finish looking around. Maybe if the police got called out to the duplex again they might realize how desperate she felt and start to help her.

  The Red Apple was an old Safeway that had been converted to a neighborhood store catering to Latina shoppers. The interior was clean and bright and smelled like fajitas. Kera walked up to a young female cashier and asked to see the manager.

  “She’s not here right now. Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m looking for a young man named Chad. He’s tall and dark haired.”

  The cashier grinned. “He’s good looking too. He’s in the cantina.” She gestured with her thumb toward the back of the store.

  Kera felt a thump of excitement in her chest. She hadn’t expected to actually see or talk to Chad, but she couldn’t think of any reason not to. She headed toward the wonderful smells in the back of the store. It wasn’t noon yet so there was only one customer seated at the tables. A young man matching Chad’s description had his back to her as he chopped tomatoes at the counter.

  “Chad?”

  He turned and looked her over thoroughly. “Why do you want to know?”

  Kera refused to be intimidated by his dark-eyed stare. “I’m Kera Kollmorgan. Danette Blake is my daughter-in-law. Have you seen her?”

  “Danette is married?” His suspicion turned to anger.

  “No. Sorry. I just say that for convenience. I’m her baby’s grandmother.” Kera couldn’t help but notice the knife in his hand.

  He saw her looking but didn’t put it down. “I haven’t seen Danette in days, so I can’t help you. I need to get back to work.” Chad started chopping again.

  “What’s your last name?”

  “None of your business,” he said, keeping his back turned.

  “I’m trying to find Danette and I’d like your help. Will you at least tell me if you saw her on Monday?”

  He turned to face her again, his free hand clenched into a fist. “We were together last Saturday night, and I haven’t seen her or talked to her since. I called once and she didn’t answer. So I’m moving on. It’s not like I planned to get serious about a woman with a baby.”

  “Did Danette ever talk about leaving her baby?”

  He widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. “Not exactly, but she was freaking out about being a mother.”

  A customer took a seat at a nearby table.

  “Now leave me alone. I can’t help you.” Chad walked over to greet his customer.

  Kera left the store with mixed feelings. If Danette had run away from her baby, then she was probably safe and would call eventually. It also meant Kera might end up raising Micah, a prospect that both excited and scared her. Would Micah be so much like Nathan it would hurt just to look at him? What would it mean for her future with Jackson? Was he prepared to start over as a parent?

  Before leaving, Kera picked up a package of sturdy tacks and double-stick tape for putting up posters, then headed for the young cashier’s checkout stand. As she reached for her wallet, Kera said, “How do you spell Chad’s last name? I need to send him an invitation.”

  “Whitehorse? It’s spelled just like it sounds.”

  “Makes sense.” Kera pulled Danette’s picture out of her shoulder bag and showed it to the cashier. “Have you seen her?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She’s missing. Can I put up a poster in your parking lot?”

  “Sure.”

  After tacking a poster to the light pole, Kera climbed in her Saturn and called Detective Zapata. Not surprised that he didn’t pick up, she left him a message with Chad’s last name and hoped he would at least run a background check.

  Evans and Schakowski were already in the small conference room when Jackson arrived. They had both been at the department, waiting for his call. His stops at Diego’s and the Durham house had taken longer than he’d expected. Jackson took a seat in one of the folding metal chairs. “I ordered a ton of Chinese food, so I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Even if I had, I’d still eat my share,” Schak said. “Is it just us three? I thought Mrs. Durham would have demanded the attention of everyone in the Violent Crimes unit.”

  “I called McCray too.” Jackson dug out his notepad. “We’ll bring in more detectives if we have to. Right now, we don’t even know if this is a homicide. If it weren’t for the other missing woman, I’d bet money Courtney Durham overdosed.”

  “What missing woman?” McCray asked as he walked in. Ed McCray had been on the job long enough to earn his gray hair and weathered face. He was also tenacious and levelheaded, and Jackson always called him in on puzzling cases.

  “Thanks for coming. Danette Blake, age twenty, disappeared Monday morning and has not been seen since. She dropped off her baby with her mother-in-law, went to an appointment with a psychiatrist, then vanished.” Jackson looked at the other two detectives to see their reaction. It was not news to them. “While we investigate the death of Courtney Durham, we’ll also keep Danette in mind. On the surface, these women have nothing in common, except they both disappeared on the same day.”

  “What do we know about Courtney Durham?” McCray took out a notepad and a stick of gum. He’d recently quit smoking and was trying not to outgrow his skinny brown corduroy pants.

  “She went drinking at Diego’s on Monday night. She was with a group of young women.” Jackson flipped back through his notes. “I have the names Madison Atwell and Zoey Kingsley.” He looked at Schak. “Your turn to take the board.”

  Evans jumped up. “I’ll do it. Schak’s handwriting would make a kindergarten teacher cry.”

  On the long, dry-erase board, Evans wrote Courtney at the top on one side and Danette on the other, drawing a line down the middle. They waited while she filled in the details Jackson had just verbalized. Under Courtney’s side, she wrote the friends’ names, then turned to Jackson. “Want me to interview them?”

  “Yes, and anyone else who was in the drinking group that night. Also, ask about a guy named Zack, who was seen dancing with Courtney.” Jackso
n glanced at his notes, wishing he’d taken time to key them into a Word document before the meeting. “Courtney called Bailey’s Taxi & Limo Service at 11:40 p.m. They sent driver Stan Morris to Diego’s to pick her up. She had already left the nightclub when he arrived.”

  “Have you talked to him?” McCray asked.

  “No. Put him on your list, along with The Pancake House, that all-night place on Franklin. Courtney’s sister says she might have gone there after leaving the club. I have photo prints of Courtney being made now, so you can all pick some up when you leave.”

  “What have you got for me?” Schak wanted to know.

  “Find out who Courtney had cell phone service with and get a subpoena for her records for the last two weeks. We need to know who she called between Sunday and Tuesday night, and we need to look into the ex-boyfriends. Start with Steve Smith, who is also known as Skeet. And there’s Tristan Chalmers from last June. There may be others in between. Courtney’s sister, Brooke, might be able to give you more names.”

  Evans turned from the board. “What kind of young woman are we talking about here?”

  Jackson tried to keep his voice in a just-the-facts mode. No matter what she had done, Courtney was still someone’s daughter. “Her sister called her a wild child. Courtney had a habit of disappearing while partying. It apparently started in high school. She’s also been arrested for shoplifting, public drunkenness, and indecent exposure.”

  “The Durhams are obscenely rich, why would she steal something?” Schak looked more puzzled than disgusted.

  “Maybe just for kicks.” Jackson had to flip back to his notes from that morning. Was it only this morning he’d first been out to the Durham house, not knowing Courtney was already dead? “Her mother said Courtney had recently joined a mountain bike riding club. Maybe she’s an adrenaline junkie.”

  The door opened and the desk officer came in with a cardboard box loaded with cartons of food. “Dinner is served,” he said with a mock bow.

  After he left, Jackson picked it back up. “I’ll interview her current boyfriend, Brett Fenton, and hopefully have something to go on from there. Let’s get back out there as quickly as we can.”