by A W Hartoin
“It’s not going to make any difference. They’re not going to catch him and neither are you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“That guy tormented Rebecca for three years and the cops never got so much as a glimpse of him. Your friend, Gavin, didn’t have a clue either. No offense.”
She rubbed her eyes, spreading the mascara further down her cheeks. She wiped her fingers with a tissue and tucked her shaky hands into her armpits. I felt like an ass. Who the hell did I think I was, making her think about all this?
“Well,” she said.
Gavin. Just remember it’s for Gavin.
“I admit it. You might be right, but I have to try,” I said. “I do think you’re wrong about Gavin. He did have a clue and that’s why he’s dead.”
“You think he knew who it was?”
“Definitely. He was trying to get in touch with Rebecca the day of the wedding. Can you please give me a break and tell me what you know?”
“Why not?” She rubbed her eyes again. “She did hire him to find that guy, but he never did.”
“Did he come up with anything?”
“Nope.”
“What kind of things did this guy do to Rebecca?” I asked.
“You name it, he did it. He called her all the time and left nasty messages on her machine. He sent her emails, letters, dead flowers and, once, a dead bird. She was so freaked.”
“She had no idea who it was,” I said.
“No. He had to be certifiable to do that stuff. Did you know he burned a big heart with an arrow into our lawn with weed killer? That’s when I moved out. I couldn’t handle it anymore.”
“How long did you two live together?”
“About six months. We met when I started work here. He’d been bothering her for a while already. She told me about it, but I wasn’t worried. I’d had a couple guys bother me, and I thought if she had a roommate, he’d back off.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. It got worse. The calls were nonstop. The week after I moved out, he broke every window in the house with bricks. She moved into a secure building after that,” Helen said.
“How many times did she move?”
“Four and I don’t know how many times she changed her email address and phone number. He got worse every time she changed it, like it insulted him or something.”
“It probably did. When did it stop?”
“Right after she met Lee. Have you met Lee?”
“Not yet. I didn’t know if he was up to it,” I said.
“He’ll be up to it. He’ll do anything to catch that guy.”
“Would you mind introducing me?”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I kind of like you.” She smiled for the first time and blew her nose.
“I grow on people.”
“Like mold.” She smiled and dabbed at her eyes.
“You know it. Do you think I could see Lee today?”
“Probably. I’ll call you and let you know.” I took the card back from her and wrote my cell number on it.
“One more thing. Was Gavin still working for Rebecca at the time of the wedding?”
“God, no. She fired him, sorry, after she met Lee. But there was another guy. I completely forgot about him,” said Helen.
“What guy?”
“Emil something. He used to deliver UPS packages to our office. He asked Rebecca out a couple of times. He wasn’t nasty or anything, but I think he scared her. He was pretty persistent.”
“Did you tell Chuck, I mean the cops?”
“No, I just remembered him. Should I call them? It was a long time ago.”
“Definitely call. How long has it been? Before she met Lee?”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe a year, a year and a half. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said.
“How do you do that?” Helen made a gesture around her face.
“You mean the Marilyn thing? I was born this way. I can’t help myself.”
“That must be weird.”
“You have no idea.”
I thanked her and practically patted myself on the way out. The connection with Gavin was clear, but if he was fired six months ago, I couldn’t figure why he’d be calling Rebecca at all, much less on her wedding day. Dad would be happy though. He does love a suspect and now we had the UPS guy.
I walked through the glass doors to the sound of manic clicking. A tall guy with a beaky nose advanced towards me holding a large camera.
“Okay, good. Can you give me a profile?” He smiled like we were old friends.
“What the hell? Who are you? Have you been following me?
“You noticed.”
I put my hand in front of his lens. “Get lost.”
“Can’t. It’s my job,” he said.
“If taking pictures of me is your job, you need professional help.”
“You can help me with a big smile on those luscious lips and maybe pull up the skirt,” he said.
I brushed past him and jumped into my truck all to a symphony of clicks. I peeled out of the parking lot and called Uncle Morty, ignoring the three million messages.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said. “I’ve got a name.”
“I’ll add it to your bill,” he said.
“You’re swell. You know that?”
“What’s the name, cheapskate?”
“Emil something. He worked for UPS a year and a half ago and delivered to ASB Systems.”
“That it? Emil Something?” Uncle Morty sounded disgruntled that my lead was a first name and it gave me perverse pleasure. Let him work for my money. Cheapskate indeed.
“Yep,” I said.
“I don’t know. It ain’t much to go on.”
I said I had every faith in him and hung up before he had a chance to double my bill, then drove to my parents’ house without any specific plan in mind.
Mom opened the back door. “I think he needs more of that anti-nausea medication.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“He wouldn’t let me.” Mom sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee.
“Wouldn’t let you? What’s he going to do? Rip the phone out of the wall?”
“Mercy, please. I can’t fight with you right now.”
“Sorry.” I started to leave the kitchen, but Mom held me back.
“Let’s wait a minute. The beast needs to calm down.”
I sat down next to her and watched her blow into her cup. She was tired. Tired beyond the usual. Mom’s life wasn’t a quiet affair, but I guess she’d rather have the usual insanity than the sickbed.
“So what’s been happening?” I asked.
“The usual. Vomiting, diarrhea, crying, and cussing.”
“Dad was crying?”
“No. That was Dixie. The rest is your dear father,” she said.
“He doesn’t sound so dear.”
“At this moment, no.”
“Dixie’s crying again?”
It was a stupid question. Mom thought so too because she rolled her eyes at me and went back to blowing on her coffee.
“I got her a script for Ativan, but she was taking too many.” I took the prescription bottle out of my bag and handed it to Mom.
“She told me. Another thing for her to feel bad about.”
“She feels bad about taking the Ativan?” I couldn’t do anything right when it came to Dixie.
“No. She feels bad that you had to take it away from her.”
“Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have given it to her in the first place.”
“No, you were right. She needs something. She just doesn’t need to be in control of it. I couldn’t get her calmed down last night and I ended up giving her a couple antihistamines.” Mom looked at me for approval and I was happy to give it. It was rare for Mom to look to me for advice.
“Well, let’s go check Dad,” I said.
“I hope he’s not awake.”
“Why?”
Mom
gave me a pained look. “Because he’ll talk.”
I knew Dad wasn’t awake from the doorway. If he was, the Siamese wouldn’t have curled up on either side of his head. I changed the IV bag and gave him another dose of Zofran. When I turned around, Dixie stood outside the door. She’d cleaned up and looked comfortable in her own clothes. She waved me into the hall and gave me a hug.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She brushed a tear off her cheek and looked me in the eyes. It seemed like forever since she’d looked at me without ducking her head or screaming.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should’ve been more careful.”
Dixie began to cry in earnest. Large tears rolled down her face soaking the collar of her blouse. “It’s just I can’t believe it’s true. I tell myself it is. It happened, but I don’t believe it. It’s like he’s on a trip and forgot to phone. I know he’s not, but that’s what I keep thinking.”
Mom took her arm and I followed them down the stairs into the kitchen. I made tea while they sat in silence at the table. I set Dixie’s teacup in front of her. “I was thinking yesterday how he was going to laugh at Dad being sick. Then I remembered, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
Mom said, “I think we’re all going to have moments like that, but pretty soon we won’t have to remind ourselves anymore and it’ll get better.”
“I’m not sure I want it to get better,” said Dixie.
All of a sudden I wanted to clean something, anything, even a toilet would do. I hated cleaning, so I could only assume I was going insane. I managed to talk myself out of the toilet and settled on dishes when my phone vibrated. It was Helen Card. Lee would see me at his apartment in a half hour. Thank goodness I had something to do and it didn’t involve scrub brushes.
“I have to go,” I told Mom and Dixie.
“How’s it going?” Dixie changed from weepy to brittle and angry in a second.
“Pretty well. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it for much longer.”
“Really?” She didn’t look optimistic.
“Really.” I was no Tommy Watts. That I admit. But I would get the job done. I’d give her peace one way or another. Me, not Dad.
Chapter Eighteen
I LEFT MY truck parked next to my parents’ garage and took the 300. Dad’s navigation system helped me make it to Lee’s apartment in record time. Before I could get out, my phone vibrated. It was vibrating almost continually at that point. I may as well have kept it in front of my face. Screening wasn’t working out for me.
“Hello,” I said.
“I got a bead on that guy,” said Uncle Morty. “Name’s Emil Roberts.”
“Already? That was fast even for you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You want the info or what?”
“Did you get his address?”
“I got his home and work addresses. No connection to Lincoln, but he has a record. A harassment charge five years ago. Pled out with community service and he had an indecency charge in the eighties. He got a couple of months for that one.”
“The eighties? How old is he?”
“Forty.”
“That’s a juvie record. Wasn’t it sealed?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Never mind. Roberts sounds promising. What do you think?”
“Worth an interview,” Uncle Morty said, just before he hung up on me.
Worth an interview? Definitely.
Helen waited for me outside Lee’s door. She’d washed off the smeared mascara and applied a new thick gloppy coat. Amazing that she could hold her eyelids up.
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
“What do they always say? As well as can be expected.”
“I’m getting more and more familiar with what that looks like. What’s his last name? I don’t remember it.”
“Holtmeyer. Are you ready to go in?” She looked at me with those heavy red-rimmed eyes and I considered calling the whole thing off. If she looked like that, how would Lee look? I wasn’t sure I was up to another grieving spouse. I could pretend my phone rang and I had an emergency. There was always the attack of diarrhea fakeout. I’d used that to great and embarrassing success. Helen would get over my bugging out, but Dad and Dixie wouldn’t. I had to get this interview for them, so I nodded and tried to arrange my face into appropriate lines. I didn’t know what to ask, but then again I rarely did.
Lee Holtmeyer sat in the middle of the sofa staring out of a window. He didn’t acknowledge our entrance or move. He seemed frozen. Every hair on his dark head was in place and his blue oxford was freshly pressed with sharp creases down the sleeves. I would’ve thought he was ready for work, if it weren’t for the look on his face.
“Lee,” Helen said softly. He turned and for a moment I wasn’t sure he saw us, but then he said, “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“It’s okay. This is Mercy Watts, the girl I told you about. Is it okay?”
“Of course. What do you want to know?” Lee’s face was blank and I wondered if he was on something.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I wouldn’t if it wasn’t necessary,” I said.
“I really loved her you know. I don’t think she understood that. I tried to tell her, but I don’t think she really understood.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I couldn’t say it the way I wanted to, to make her understand.”
“She probably understood more than you know and she loved you.”
“She did love me. She did.” Lee smiled, but it looked like it took a lot of effort.
“Did you ever meet Gavin Flouder?”
“I thought she fired him,” he said.
“She did. Did you meet him?”
“No.”
“Then she hadn’t rehired him?”
“Why would she?”
“I thought maybe the stalker had started up again,” I said.
“No. That was all over. I don’t think she thought about it anymore.”
“So she hadn’t had any problems recently?”
“No. She would’ve told me. Do you know something?”
“Not really. I’m here because Gavin Flouder was a family friend and he died on Sunday.”
Lee leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Do you know what happened?”
“It isn’t clear, but he was murdered. I think it has something to do with Rebecca.”
“Why?”
“He called the church and her cell phone the day of the wedding. Did she mention that to you?”
Lee crossed his arms. “No. Why does it matter?”
“Because he called her from the road and he died shortly after arriving home. Was there anyone at the wedding that you didn’t know? Did anyone look suspicious or out of place?”
“Not at all and I would’ve noticed. It was small, just about seventy people,” he said.
“Seventy-five,” a voice said.
I looked up and saw a man and woman standing beside my chair. I hadn’t heard them come in the room. They stared at me, their mouths pulled down into fierce frowns.
“What?” I leaned back away from them, trying to get some distance. Apparently, they hadn’t heard of personal space.
“There were seventy-five people at the wedding,” said the woman.
“Oh,” I said and turned to Lee. He seemed to shrink in their presence and he avoided meeting my eyes.
Helen stepped up and said, “Mercy, this is Darrell, Lee’s brother, and Rhonda, his mom.”
“It’s Mrs. Holtmeyer, if you don’t mind.” Lee’s mom straightened her lilac blouse, ran her finger along a long string of pearls, and turned her icy gaze on Helen. “Who ate peanuts?”
Helen immediately stepped back and looked at the floor. “I had a sandwich. I’m sorry. I forgot about your allergy.”
“You’ve been told how to behave,” said Mrs. Holtmeyer.
I stepped
in front of Helen. “I’m sorry to trouble you at such a time, but — ”
“Then why are you?” Lee’s brother leaned forward, his eyes raking over my breasts. My skin flushed and tightened. I wanted to shrink away, but the Dad in me wouldn’t allow it, so I looked Darrell full in the face. He resembled his brother down to the pressed pleats, but all of Lee’s soft good looks were hard and edgy on Darrell. He leaned farther over me, mere inches from touching me.
I stood up, causing Darrell to jerk backward.
Step off, asshole.
“It’s OK, Darrell. I said she could come,” said Lee. He was back to staring out the window.
“It is not a good time,” said his mother.
“Then I’ll be brief,” I said.
“You don’t take a hint, do you?” said Darrell, leaning in again.
“Neither do you,” I replied. “Now Lee, do you think you’re up to telling me what happened during the reception?”
Mrs. Holtmeyer sat beside Lee and put her hand on his leg. She squeezed his knee until her fingers dug into his leg.
“I feel like I’ve told it a hundred times, Mother. One more won’t make any difference.” Lee glanced at me and removed his mother’s hand. It didn’t go easily.
“We were all at the reception. Dinner was over and she went to the bathroom. At least I think she did. She was gone awhile and I looked for her. Mom said it was time to cut the cake, but nobody knew where she was. Helen went into the bathroom to look for her.” Lee looked at Helen. She bit her lip so hard, I expected blood to gush out.
“She wasn’t in the bathroom,” I said.
“No,” said Helen.
“Obviously she wasn’t in the bathroom. What’s the point of this? We’ve talked to the cops five times already,” said Darrell.
“Go ahead, Lee. She wasn’t in the bathroom and then what?” I said.
“We looked for her and we found her. The end,” said Darrell.
“I asked Lee,” I said.
Lee straightened up on the sofa. “We all started looking for her and somebody suggested we check in the chapel. I thought she might be praying.”
“Did she do that a lot? Go to the chapel alone, I mean?” I asked.
Lee looked back out the window and sighed. “I guess so. I don’t know. She prayed a lot. It calmed her.”
