Deception in Strange Places (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery)

by Judy Alter

  My phone rang, and I said, “Hi, Mike.”

  “Car is registered to the homeowner where you saw it. But good work, Kelly. Better to check and be sure rather than take a chance. But I’ve got some disturbing news.”

  “Oh?” I was cautious.

  “When I went through the morning report, there was a break-in at Dr. Goodwin’s clinic. I’ve been too busy to call you.”

  “What did they take?” After all, drug users broke into clinics whenever they could.

  “At first, the staff didn’t think anything was taken—no drugs missing, that kind of stuff. But as the morning went on, they discovered two case files missing.”

  “Don’t tell me!

  “Yep, Sheila’s and Ms. Lorna’s.”

  “Doesn’t Dr. Goodwin have an alarm system?”

  “Yep, but this was a professional job. Phone lines cut, so the alarm didn’t work except inside the building where nobody heard it. Not a fingerprint in the whole damn place.”

  “How’d they get in?”

  “Cut out a window. I mean, completely. No chance of hurting themselves. They—or he—knew exactly what he was doing. I think it was probably just one guy. I suspect our man prefers to work alone.”

  “And Bruce Hollister wouldn’t dirty his hands doing such a thing.”

  “Right, but you can bet he knows by now that his wife is expecting.”

  My heart did a big downward plummet. Can things get much worse?

  We discussed whether or not to tell Sheila. At least, I discussed and Mike had only one opinion, a firm one at that. “Definitely. She’s got to be mentally aware of every weapon in Hollister’s armament.”

  I thought that an unfortunate simile but didn’t say anything.

  “I see no need to alarm Ms. Lorna,” he went on.

  I nodded in agreement, completely forgetting that he couldn’t see me over the phone.

  ****

  That night, once again, we had a late-night conference, after the girls went to bed. In truth, I was getting tired of these conferences and the problems that caused them. And I usually had an extra glass of wine and woke with a headache at three in the morning, thereafter to toss and turn and review the previous night’s problems. Nevertheless, that night Mike, Sheila, and I were at the kitchen table to talk about the break-in at Dr. Goodwin’s office. I hadn’t told Sheila about it before, though I had to bite my tongue several times.

  “Where’s Keisha?” Sheila asked mischievously. “Surely we can’t meet without her.”

  Mike may have been off-duty but in his own mind he was still wearing his badge. “Sheila, this is serious.” And he repeated the story about the break-in at Dr. Goodwin’s office, adding an incident that had happened after he and I talked.

  “Your husband called Dr. Goodwin’s office late this afternoon, demanded to speak to her.”

  She sighed. “That’s Bruce. Always demanding.”

  “He also demanded your records be sent to him in San Antonio so that he could share them with a ‘proper’ physician.”

  I couldn’t help hooting. “I hope she said a proper physician already had them.”

  Mike threw me a look that once again said no levity would be tolerated. “She played it by the book, told him she could not release records without a patient’s consent. And refused to tell him due date and so forth. He informed her that the pregnancy would be managed by a doctor in San Antonio, and she repeated that she’d send the records when you asked her to.” He waited for her reaction, but if he expected her to be devastated, he was disappointed.

  “I’m not surprised at any of this,” she said quite calmly. “I knew he’d find out sooner or later, though I’m a bit surprised that his new ‘assistant’ acted so soon after the shooting. Ralphie would have hidden for a few days.”

  “That’s the difference between these two,” Mike said. “Ralphie was a misguided puppy dog compared to this new man. Will Bruce stop trying to kill you now that he knows you’re pregnant? It sounds as if he’s invested in the baby.”

  “He’s not,” she said. “The baby would probably be an inconvenience to him. But he’s playing both ends against the middle, covering all possibilities.” She paused and stared into space. Then she turned to us with a look that said she’d just had an “aha” moment.

  “He may have outsmarted me…or thinks he has. Playing the family man just might suit his purposes. That is, further his ministry. He could preach forever about this unexpected miracle that had come into our lives. This poor baby,” she patted her stomach, “might almost be treated like the Second Coming.” She laughed at herself but sobered quickly. “He won’t have that chance. I talked to Terrell this afternoon about drawing up divorce papers. Bruce should be served by the end of the week.”

  “Won’t that just enrage him more?” I asked.

  She looked earnestly at me. “Kelly, I cannot live my life in fear of Bruce Hollister. I’d rather one of his sniper’s bullets get me.”

  “Well, I hope to see that doesn’t happen,” Mike said, “though there will probably be other attempts.”

  “Something tells me there won’t be. I think I just figured out the Reverend Dr. Hollister.”

  “Is he really a doctor?” I asked irrelevantly.

  “No, I think he conned some small religious school into giving him an honorary doctorate—the kind you’re not supposed to really use.”

  Mike walked her out to the apartment shortly after that, and I straightened a few things in the kitchen, laid out lunch boxes and breakfast dishes.

  When he came in, Mike said, “In a way I hope she’s right—no more bullets. But he’ll put up a nasty fight for custody, and I don’t know she’s ready for that.”

  “She might surprise you. I’ve been watching her for the last couple of weeks, and she’s certainly not the timid woman who first came into my office. She gets more sure of herself every day…and more determined.”

  He thought about it and said, “You may be right.” Then he held out a hand and said, “Let’s go to bed.”

  I lay awake long after Mike began gently snoring. I was thinking about women, about Claire who was always tough, about Mona who turned tough when she had to protect her child, and, yes, about Sheila. Having taken that first step away from Bruce Hollister showed her she could do it, and she was indeed growing tougher by the day. It all began, I thought, the day she refused to let Hollister into her hospital room.

  At last I slept but my dreams were a jumble of babies and black SUVs and Ms. Lorna. I was almost relieved to wake at three.

  ****

  For a quite a while, it appeared that Sheila was right There were no more bullets, no sightings of the black SUV (although any black SUV could still cause my heart to race, and I did carry my gun all the time now). It was a long week, because Sheila, Mike, and I felt like we were waiting for the other shoe to drop. The ball—or shoe, not to mix metaphors—was Hollister’s. What would he do?

  Bruce Hollister’s next move surprised all of us, but it didn’t come until a week after the doctor’s appointments. After, I knew, he had been served with divorce papers.

  He called my office on Monday afternoon, shortly before I had to run get the girls. Butter would have melted in his mouth, he was so charming. “Ms. O’Connell, I know we’ve had our differences, and I hope you’ll forgive my outbursts of temper. You did have the advantage of me the night we had drinks, and I felt you’d used the situation to trick me or get me to reveal something, but there’s no excuse for my behavior. I will only plead my great worry about my wife’s welfare.”

  I was speechless, so much so that he finally said, “Ms. O’Connell, are you there?”

  “Yes, yes,” I stammered, while a hundred responses went through my mind, none of them cordial. I did not trust his sudden change of heart at all, and I wanted to tell him we’d never be friends. I sensed a snake in the grass and wondered what he wanted, because he obviously wanted something.

  He went on at length about h
ow worried he was about poor Diane. He knew now that her strange and troubling behavior was due to hormonal changes in early pregnancy, and he was more worried about her than ever.

  “How did you know she is pregnant?” I asked.

  His answer was smooth, too much so. “Why her doctor called me to verify some insurance information.”

  I knew that was an outright lie. Before I asked what I could do for him, I glanced at the clock. I was late. But I didn’t want to terminate the conversation without finding out why he was calling. “Could you hold just one moment?” I asked.

  “Certainly. Take your time.” Mr. Cordiality again.

  I asked Keisha to get the girls and bring them back here, and she promptly left to do that.

  “Mr. Hollister? Thanks for holding. I had to send my office manager to get my daughters from school.”

  “I wouldn’t want to take you from your duties as a mother. We could talk another time.”

  If he got any more smarmy, I was going to be sick. “No, it’s fine. What can I do for you besides accept your gracious apology?”

  “As you probably know, my wife won’t take my phone calls, won’t see me. I wondered if you would be an intermediary and set up a meeting. I’d be glad to come to Fort Worth, with my lawyer of course, and meet with Diane at the place of your choosing. She could ask anyone she wants to be with her. Even you.”

  Okay, there was just the hint of disparagement in the last two words. “Is this to discuss the divorce?”

  He sighed loudly. “I’m hoping of course it won’t come to that. After all there is now a child involved.”

  I wondered if he’d dropped his tack of claiming Sheila was mentally unbalanced. “I’ll have to talk to Sheila and get back to you. May I call tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Let me put you through to my secretary who can give you the number. And then she’ll be alert for your call tomorrow. I’ll be in the office all day.”

  My first thought was to ask him if he didn’t know his own phone number, but I would not be that rude. And I recognized his power play, just another little way of exerting his control. So I made nice with the secretary, got the phone number, and assured her I would call when I could. I truly thought about making him wait a day, just out of spite.

  Oh my, will we have a conference tonight!

  The girls arrived and Keisha rushed to give them candy, while I gave her a dirty look.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?” Maggie asked. “You look awfully pale and…I don’t know. Just funny. Not like yourself.”

  “Just a real estate problem,” I said. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Keisha, who’d answered Hollister’s call and heard just a bit of the early part, gave me a long look, and Em said, “Mom, it’s about Sheila, isn’t it? We know you and Mike and Sheila sit up late at night and talk. And we know Ms. Sheila has big problems. You can tell us the truth.”

  “You’re right,” I said, “and I apologize. Yes, she does have big problems, and I just talked to her husband.”

  “He’s a bad guy, right?” Em said confidently.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Em. And you girls must not talk about this to anyone. Even Jenny, Maggie.”

  She favored me with one of her How dumb do you think I am? looks.

  “Let’s go get Sheila and go home,” I said. “Thanks for getting them, Keisha.”

  “De nada. José taught me to say that.” She grinned. “But I’m like these girls. You can tell me.”

  “All in good time,” I said and hurried the girls out the back door to my car.

  No way I was waiting for Mike and late evening this time. I got the girls settled at the kitchen table and motioned Sheila to follow me to the living room. There, in hushed tones, I repeated Bruce’s phone call, word for word as much as I could. She was not dismayed, which is what I’d feared. Instead, she was almost coldly calculating.

  “It’s a ploy, of course,” she said. “I don’t think he’s given up the idea of having me declared incompetent, especially now. That would give him complete control of the baby.” She rubbed her stomach again in that gesture that was habit to all expectant mothers.

  “You can refuse to meet him.”

  “That would only fuel his fire. I think we should meet him and see what he proposes. With his lawyer there, he won’t get out of control. I know the lawyer, even kind of like him.”

  “Okay, but let’s call the shots. When?”

  “Let me call Terrell. I will want him there, of course, and you. And this is Monday…let’s make it next week. It’s not good to let him stew—his mind gets too active—but I need time to prepare and anticipate his arguments. I think it will all be like a business arrangement, with no mention of love but lots of emphasis on marriage vows.”

  I had gotten myself in some pickles over the years but I was certainly glad I wasn’t in Sheila’s shoes that afternoon.

  At dinner, she was lighthearted, joking with the girls about boys, asking Mike something about the neighborhood, telling us the latest about her mother. She was bit by bit trying to clean and lighten the house. That day she had opened all the heavy draperies so sunlight could flood in. Her mother had complained about the brightness, but Sheila jollied her out of it. Sheila knew some basic yoga techniques, and she had her mother stretching and building just a bit of strength.

  “I think it would be safe now to walk around the block,” she suggested.

  “Don’t try it yet,” Mike cautioned. “No one’s seen the black SUV that we know of, but I don’t want to take chances.”

  “This city is full of black SUVs,” observed Maggie. “Haven’t you noticed all the moms who drive them to pick up kids at school?”

  I’d noticed okay, but not until those cars went high on my radar list.

  The next day at Sheila’s request, after she talked to Terrell, I scheduled a meeting for nine the next Monday morning, in Terrell’s office. His office was in a remodeled older home in the neighborhood, and he had what he laughingly described as an “intimate” conference room. Coffee, tea and pastries would be on him, he said.

  “Terrell said to tell you life would be dull without the cases I bring to him. Of course, your mother doesn’t like to hear any mention of him. She still thinks he should have made the judge order her marijuana patch replanted. It does no good to tell her lawyers don’t ‘make’ judges do anything.”

  We spent the next week in anticipation—at least I did. Sheila seemed quite serene. She met with Terrell twice—he kindly made house calls and spent a couple of hours in her apartment. Friday afternoon he asked to meet briefly with me, too, and they came inside the house. The girls were busy in their rooms—or so I thought.

  “Basically I think we’ll have to demonstrate Sheila’s competency. He’ll argue that running away from home shows that she’s not thinking clearly, and he may well argue for the safety of the baby. Kelly, that’s where you come in. You’ll have to explain that Sheila takes good care of herself, makes rational decisions, and so on.”

  “Can I point out that she just doesn’t like her husband and that’s a rational decision?”

  Sheila giggled, and Terrell suppressed a smile. “Be serious.”

  After that, the weekend loomed long. Mike hadn’t spent any time lately on his research into the Fort Worth Police Department’s history, and that was his Saturday project. If he could do that, he promised he’d cook a gourmet meal for us Sunday night.

  José was sleeping since he’d worked the night before, so Keisha and I took the girls shopping for Halloween costumes, though Maggie declared herself too old to go trick or treating. I was relieved the Hermione phase had passed. She ended up with a Mardi Gras-style mask and a T-shirt that was supposed to resemble the décolletage of revelers in the Crescent City. Em, with ten-year-old enthusiasm, chose a flowing gown that was, I suppose, meant to look like an ethereal creature visiting from another world. On Em, it looked lovely, making her older, which gave my heart a pang.

 
By Sunday night, my stomach was in knots, but Sheila declared she was hungry. Instead of grilling, as usual, Mike had simmered a pot of spaghetti sauce all day. He tossed it with fettuccine and served it with garlic bread made the old-fashioned way with each slice spread thickly with garlic butter and then dusted with chopped parsley and freshly ground Romano cheese. A good green salad with a lemon vinaigrette was the perfect final touch—or so I thought until he brought out a chocolate chip pie and vanilla ice cream.

  Keisha and José had joined us for dinner, and the next day’s meeting was the elephant in the room no one talked of. We speculated on the gender of Sheila’s baby, and the girls got giggly trying to imagine Ms. Lorna as a grandmother.

  “She can take lessons from Nana,” Em said and then paused thoughtfully. “Nana’s not really what I think of as a grandmother. But Keisha is. Maybe Keisha can teach her.”

  Keisha was indignant. “Bite your tongue, child. I’m not old enough to be a mother, let alone a grandmother.” She gave José a broad grin, but he looked embarrassed and avoided her eyes.

  Hmmm. Wonder if they’ve been discussing this? At least I was momentarily distracted from the next day. In the night, though, all my doubts and fears came rushing back. I had to admit I was physically afraid of Bruce Hollister, for Sheila, yes, but also for myself. What if he had some bizarre plan to hold us hostage? On the other hand, what if he turned out to be perfectly reasonable and Sheila had sold us a bill of goods? That possibility always lingered in the back of my mind. Had we been foolish to rush so wholeheartedly into protecting a woman who walked into my office off the street? No, I told myself. It all fit, and Bruce Hollister has demonstrated his nature.

  At dawn I slept—briefly.