by A W Hartoin
“Who found her?”
“I did. She wasn’t in the chapel, so we went into the crying room.”
“Who’s we?” I asked.
“Me and Darrell.” Lee covered his eyes for a moment. “Rebecca was lying on the floor, but I didn’t think she was dead until I picked her up. She was so heavy and limp. Then everybody was there. I don’t know what happened after that. It’s a blur.”
“You picked her up?” I asked.
“Yes. I remember somebody telling me to put her down. I don’t know who. Was it you, Helen?” asked Lee.
Helen shook her head no.
“It was me,” said Darrell, his face reddened and, for a moment, anguished.
“I loved her so much, so much.” Lee continued looking out the window and I heard Helen crying beside me, but I couldn’t move. It was the first time I’d ever done that, interviewed a mourning spouse, unless you counted Dixie. The moment was bizarre, like being inside a painting, clear and blurry at the same time. I would remember every detail and want to forget it, the way the June sun came through the window, the smell of lemon cleaner in the air. It was all perfect and horrible at the same time.
“I think it’s time to go,” I said to Helen.
She nodded and followed me to the door.
“About time,” said Darrell.
His mother didn’t say anything. She looked at me like I’d taken a dump on her floor.
Lee didn’t look up when I said goodbye.
Helen leaned on the wall outside the apartment and sucked in a deep breath. I took a spot next to her and said, “I don’t think they liked me very much. Darrell and his mom, I mean.”
“They don’t like anyone,” said Helen.
“Including Rebecca?”
“I think they tolerated her, but Mrs. Holtmeyer was definitely in charge of the wedding and everything else.” Helen wrinkled her nose when she said Mrs. Holtmeyer.
“I’m not crazy about the brother either,” I said. “How was he to Rebecca?”
“Okay, but he treats Lee like he’s disabled or something. They both do.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I said.
“Did this help you at all?”
“Don’t know yet. How long was Rebecca missing?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t seen her for at least a half hour when Lee asked me to go into the bathroom.”
“Were you there when he found her?”
“No, just Darrell. I was in the chapel when I heard Lee. He was screaming.”
“Did you go in the crying room?”
“No, just to the door. It was horrible. I wish I didn’t see it,” she said, biting her lip again.
“How many people were there?”
“Everybody, I guess, except the kids of course.”
“How did everyone seem?”
“Upset. What do you think?”
“Besides that. Did anyone strike you as acting odd?”
“No, but I was with Lee and Rebecca’s mom.”
“You’ve talked to her mom. Does she have any ideas?”
“No way. I think she’s more shocked than the rest of us. She didn’t even know about the stalker,” she said.
“Why didn’t Rebecca tell her?”
“She thought it would upset her and it’s not like she could do anything about it.”
“What about the rest of the family? What do they think?”
“It’s just her mom, an aunt, and a couple of cousins. They’re clueless too.”
“Could I speak to her mom?” I asked.
“I imagine so, but she’s back in Decatur now. I could call her for you.”
“Never mind. You’re probably right. She’s out of the loop.”
I believed Rebecca’s mom was out of the loop, but it was my innate laziness and fear of another interview like Lee’s that kept me from driving the two and a half hours to Decatur. It’d already crossed my mind that somebody would have to retrace Gavin’s trip to Lincoln. I’d assumed it’d be Dad, but that was out of the question, so I was back on the front lines.
I grabbed Helen’s arm. “Wait a minute. I forgot something.”
Helen knocked on Lee’s door and Mrs. Holtmeyer opened it a couple of inches. The chain was on.
“What do you want now?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot to ask Lee something. Could you ask him if he or Rebecca went to Lincoln, Nebraska recently or if she said anything about it in the last few weeks?”
She hesitated, but turned and repeated my question to Lee. She probably figured I wouldn’t leave if she didn’t. She was right. I heard Lee answer no. He’d never been there and Rebecca hadn’t been back since her graduation.
Mrs. Holtmeyer turned back to me with the dump expression on her face again. “No and Lee’s never been there. Don’t bother us again.”
She shut the door in my face.
Helen closed her eyes. “My god, she’s a bitch. I can’t believe Rebecca was going to be her daughter-in-law. What a nightmare.”
“Thanks again and I’ll try not to bother you anymore.”
Unless I did. Me being me, it was likely, but it sounded nice anyway.
I left Helen standing in front of Lee’s building looking miserable and lost. I’d had a taste of how she felt and it was bad. She didn’t know what to do or who to be. It takes a while to move forward without feeling like a strong wind is buffeting your every step. I felt a little like that when I saw Gavin on the gurney, but I had a job to do and Helen didn’t have the benefit of purpose. My purpose just then was to interview Emil Roberts. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d confess, then I wouldn’t have to go to Lincoln. But the trip was getting more intriguing, like a mini-vacation. With no one to pester me I’d be able to think and maybe start to feel better.
Chapter Nineteen
I DROVE STRAIGHT to Roberts’s work address. He was still with UPS, but no longer delivering. I walked in and stood in line behind three people with large packages. The girl behind the counter was slow and methodical. I began to feel my hair turning gray when I saw a man step out of the back. He joined the girl at the counter and his name tag identified him as Emil. I watched him without guile as he assisted the customers ahead of me in rapid succession. He was the kind of guy who was hard to describe, not because he was unusual looking, but because he was so unremarkable. I’d have a hard time recalling what he looked like the minute I left his presence.
Roberts was small, maybe an inch or two taller than me. He had hair that was neither blond nor brown, but some in-between color that defied easy categories. My mother would’ve called it dishwater or dirty blond. Neither seemed quite right to me. His hair hung in lank waves and he hadn’t bothered to wash it in a day or so, but he didn’t seem dirty or unkempt.
His eyes lit on me when it was my turn at the counter. They were pale blue and set far apart on his thin face. His eyes should’ve been his best feature, but they made me think of tortoises and inbreeding.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I hope so. You’re Emil Roberts?”
“Yes. How can I help you?”
“I’m Mercy Watts and I was wondering if I could interview you about the Rebecca Sample case.” I hoped her name would provoke some kind of reaction in him. It didn’t.
“Are you a policewoman?” He looked doubtful.
“No, private investigator, and I’m actually working on a case that’s related to the Sample case. Do you have a moment?”
He looked at the girl who was still helping her first customer and said, “Sure, but it’ll have to be quick.”
“No problem,” I said.
I followed him into a back office where he motioned for me to sit down. He sat on the edge of the desk that had a reading lamp and an in/out basket on it. The out basket was full and the in was empty. His name was carved into a triangular block of wood and it named him as the store manager.
“What can I do for you?” Roberts looked over my head when he asked the question
and it unsettled me.
“I understand you knew Miss Sample,” I said.
“I did, but not well.”
“Did you ask her out?”
“Yes, but she said no.”
“I hear you were pretty persistent.”
“It depends on what you consider persistent,” he said, looking past my right shoulder.
“I consider persistent to be asking repeatedly beyond reason.” I tried to catch his eye as he switched to looking past my left shoulder.
“Then no. I wasn’t persistent. I asked her out two or three times, she said no and that was it.”
“Why did you stop delivering to her office?”
“I got a promotion.”
“You don’t seem surprised that I’m asking you about this.”
“I’m not. When I saw what happened to her on the news, I assumed I’d be questioned, although I thought it would be the cops doing it.”
“They’ll be around. You can count on it. Were you at the wedding?”
“No. Why would I be? We weren’t friends and I haven’t seen her since I was delivering to her work,” he said.
“Any idea who would want to hurt her?”
“No. If you don’t mind, I have to get back.”
We both stood up and his eyes shifted to the floor to the left of my feet. I should’ve shook his hand or something, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.
“Well, thanks for your time,” I said.
He nodded and we left the office. The girl at the counter banged on the credit card machine and Roberts went to help her. As I went out the door, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him looking at me. When he saw me his eyes went back to his work and I left.
I got in the 300 and sat for a moment. Roberts wasn’t in the clear, but I didn’t have a feeling one way or the other about him. He’d been straightforward with my questions. The eyes bugged me, but other than that he was a normal guy doing normal things. The more I thought about it, Roberts didn’t fit. The stalking started before he asked Sample out and continued after. I just didn’t see a psycho like that stopping his behavior long enough to politely ask her out and then starting it up again. Besides, I didn’t think I had to deal with Roberts. Chuck would be on him as soon as Helen called and I was happy to leave him to it. Now I had no excuse to avoid Lincoln, so I’d be getting my traveling shoes on.
Chapter Twenty
CATS ARE HARD to find normally. Trying to find a cat when you’re holding a travel carrier is near to impossible. My apartment didn’t help either. It had plenty of dark corners and crevices just big enough to hide a six-pound feline with nerves of spaghetti. Stale air and the smell of mold snaked around me as I searched. There wasn’t enough Febreze in the world to fix it. My building was built in the twenties and what it lacked in light and ventilation it made up for in character. At least that’s what I told myself. Crown molding is important. Damn it.
So I searched for Skanky in the semidarkness, packed, searched, and then searched again. After a can of Fancy Feast didn’t produce results, I started thinking that he’d gotten out. Panic had just set in when I heard a faint ‘yow’ in the bedroom closet. Skanky was hiding in an old shoe box in the back. He hadn’t cleaned his fur recently and looked freaked out. He always had an element of freak, but that day it was more than average. His yellow eyes darted around and his claws were extended for no reason. When I reached for him, he jumped out of the box and buried his claws into the deep carpet. It took ten minutes to pry him off. Then I gave him a good brushing and put him in his carrier. I was a bad mama, but my mama would have to make it up to him.
Skanky yowled and hissed when I put him into the 300. He’d been a desperately ill kitten when I rescued him and he never liked being in a vehicle. He always thought we were going to the vet or worse. Worse being a visit to the evil Siamese.
“Quiet,” I said. “We’re not going to the vet.”
Skanky went bat shit crazy at the word ‘vet’, banging his head against the door and flipping over to claw the top. All the while yowling like he was in the middle of an anal gland exam. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the Siamese. He probably would’ve tried to bite himself to death.
He continued the insanity for the few minutes it took to get to my parents’ house. I did feel guilty, but enough was enough. After a couple of days with the Siamese, he’d be happy to see me. That is, if he survived. The Siamese weren’t partial to company, human or otherwise. They liked to tag team him when Mom’s back was turned.
“Sorry, boy. I don’t have time to find a kennel,” I said.
Skanky’s yowling went to a higher decibel as I spotted Pete’s car in the alley next to my truck. That couldn’t be a good thing. I didn’t think he would voluntarily see my parents without me unless something was seriously wrong with Dad. I parked and sprinted up the back walk, leaving Skanky yowling in my wake.
Mom and Pete sat at the kitchen with iced teas in hand. They were calm and looked at me with mild surprise.
“Hello, sweetie,” said Mom.
“Where’s Dad?” I said.
“Right here.” Dad sat on the window seat propped up with Mom’s sari pillows and covered to the chin with afghans.
“What happened? What’s Dad doing down here?”
“Nothing and we helped him down. He’s getting stir crazy. What’s wrong with you?” Mom looked at me with her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised to points.
“Well, what are you doing here?” I looked at Pete feeling angry and stupid at the same time. Damn them for being so obtuse.
“Your mother asked me to come over and take out the IV,” Pete said.
“That’s it?”
“Something wrong with that?” Pete shrugged his shoulders and raised his palms at me. “I could’ve done it,” I said.
“You were busy,” Mom said.
“Not that busy. So he’s better?”
“He’s sitting right here.” Dad glared at me, tried to raise an arm and gave up after a feeble attempt. I walked over, the fear draining out of me with every step. I touched his forehead and tucked the afghan in around him. He smiled. “You were worried.”
“I was not.” I sat down on the floor and lay my head on the seat cushion. “God, I’m tired.”
“Not too tired to go to Lincoln,” Dad said.
“What makes you think I’m going to Lincoln?”
“Your cat yowling in the car.”
Skanky’s yowls managed to get all the way through the yard, butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. His voice was the biggest part of him.
“Go get that animal before the neighbors start complaining,” said Mom.
I tromped back to the car to get him. Skanky thanked me by peeing out the back of the carrier and narrowly missing my leg.
“I should’ve left you in the car, you ungrateful wretch.”
Hiss.
“Fine, let the Siamese eat you. See if I care.” I opened the cage and tossed him into the kitchen.
“Are you talking to that cat again?” Mom never called Skanky by his name. I wasn’t sure if she disliked the name or the cat.
“Yes. Unlike everyone else in this family, he listens.”
“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. When was the last time you listened to me?” asked Mom.
I had to think. I was sure I had at some point, but I couldn’t narrow it down.
“See what I mean,” she said.
“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Dad wavered on his seat, but looked better. His eyes had lost their hound dog look and the color was back in his face. “Have you packed?”
“Yes, I’ve packed.”
“You’re really going?” Pete looked at me with astonishment. He must’ve thought Dad was joking.
“I have to. Dad can’t and it needs to be done quickly.”
Dad nodded his approval and closed his eyes. Pete frowned, but, being sandwiched between my parents, he wasn’t in a position to mak
e a fuss.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just fact-checking really,” I said.
“How long?” Pete said.
“Two days tops.”
“Better hit the road.” Dad was never one to put off the inevitable.
“I’ll go tomorrow. I have some things to take care off.”
“Like what?”
“I want to see The Girls for one thing. I still think something’s going on with them.” I looked at Pete. “Walk me out.”
We said our goodbyes and Pete was thanked and thanked again. For some reason, I felt like I was being reprimanded for my unavailability for the IV removal. Probably paranoia on my part, it wouldn’t be the first time. Parents.
“So how about I come over later?” Pete opened the car door for me and leaned against it in his lean, graceful way.
“I’d love it, but I won’t be there.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be in Lincoln,” I said.
“You just said you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just keep this between us.”
“Your parents should know,” he said.
“I don’t want them hassling me with advice and instructions.”
“Can’t somebody else do this?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to. Gavin was family. It’s our job. Since Dad’s not available, it falls to me.” I saw that he didn’t get it, but he bowed to my position anyway. Then he kissed me and opened the car door. I watched him in the rearview as he watched me drive away.
Chapter Twenty-One
I PARKED IN front of the Bled house and stood at the gate for a moment. A soft breeze swayed the branches of the gigantic oaks that lined the street, but nothing else moved. The house was dark and lifeless as before. The lawn hung over the edges of the flagstone walk and the house was beginning to look abandoned. I rang the gate bell multiple times and was ignored. Mom gave me the emergency key, but we’d rarely used it and never for an actual emergency. Was this an emergency? Maybe. Maybe not. But I had to know what was going on. I decided to take a walk, just a little snoop, around the perimeter. After that I wasn’t sure.
Leaves crunched under my feet as I walked through the overgrown lawn and peeked into the left conservatory. Everything was neat and tidy, but the absence of light bothered me. The Girls weren’t conservationists. They were known to leave TVs on for days, if not weeks, at a time. The darkness made me feel weird and itchy. Dad used to talk about that feeling over dinner. The crime scene feeling, sometimes it meant something, sometimes it didn’t. I was damn sure it did this time, but still I doubted The Girls were lying in a pool of blood in the living room. I needed to go in, but I didn’t really have the time.
