aterovis_bm_reapthewhirlwind.p65

aterovis_bm_reapthewhirlwind.p65 Page 19

by Arlene Chance

  “Caught you!” the old bat hollered as she jumped back through the door. I jumped back with a yelp, almost falling backwards onto my bottom, as she cackled merrily. “I’m just kidding. This job gets pretty boring, you know?”

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  I decided I was dealing with an escapee from the insane asylum and started edging my way toward the door. I didn’t want to turn my back on her again.

  “Did you get what you needed?” she asked me.

  “No, but don’t worry about it,” I said in a soothing voice.

  “Nonsense, you’ve gone to this much trouble you can’t stop now. Here, the name is Joey Taylor. Does that sound right?”

  I froze. No, it didn’t sound right at all. “That’s impossible. Joey died a week before that was sent,” I said when I found my voice.

  Edna’s eyes widened. “Well someone used his name to order the delivery.”

  “Do you remember what they looked like?”

  “No, I’m sorry; I really don’t.”

  “Was it a man or a woman?” I asked desperately.

  “I don’t remember; after a while they all just blur together. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “Me too,” I mumbled under my breath as I left. I hoped the others would make out better with their assignments.

  * * *

  It was Monday before I got to my next assignment, trying to get the medical examiner’s report from Detective Grafton. After waiting in the lobby for so long that I was beginning to get afraid that I’d be drawing social security before I left, the detective finally made time to see me. “Back again?” he said in way of greeting after I’d been let into his office by the dispatcher. Once again, Detective Bernhardt was not in the office. I sat down without being invited.

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  “Um, yeah. How is Detective Bernhardt?” Small talk did not seem like the best course of action when dealing with Grafton, but I wasn’t sure exactly how to ask for the report. Was there a protocol involved?

  Grafton’s eyebrows inverted themselves into a “V”

  as he frowned intensely at me. I started to point out that he was going to give himself even more wrinkles, but wisely refrained.

  “Detective Bernhardt is fine, thank you for asking,”

  he said shortly.

  “It’s just that she hasn’t been here the last couple times I’ve come.”

  “I’m sure if you called ahead she’d drop all her work and wait here for you.”

  I blinked, not sure what to say to that. I didn’t have to worry; he took the reins of the conversation.

  “What exactly are you doing here, kid? If you came to chitchat, I’ve got more important things to do. If you have a point, which I somehow doubt, then let’s get to it.”I bristled under his rudeness, but decided to ask for what I’d come for. “Can I get a copy of the medical examiner’s report for Joey Taylor’s death?”

  That seemed to catch him by surprise.

  “What?”

  “Can I get a copy of—”

  “I heard what you said. Why in God’s name would you want that?”

  I didn’t have an answer ready for that either, but again, he didn’t really seem to expect one.

  “Never mind, it doesn’t really matter why you want it, and besides, I can guess. You still think the Taylor kid was murdered and you’ve decided to play detec-216

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  tive. Look kid, this isn’t a game of let’s-make-pretend.

  We’ve told you, your friend had too much to drink, fell into the pool and drowned. A tragic accident, but that’s all it was. You have to move on. This isn’t healthy.”

  It was thoughtful of him to be so concerned for my well-being, but he hadn’t really answered my question.

  “About that report—”

  “Didn’t you just hear me?” He waved away any response. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have heard me anyway. “Look, ME’s reports aren’t public knowledge, kid.

  You can’t just waltz in and ask for a copy.” He heaved a gigantic sigh. “I’m going to tell you one more time, and I hope you listen this time; it was an accident. Go back to your life. Forget about this little fantasy of yours.”

  “I wish I could forget about it, but I can’t. I don’t think it was just an accident and I intend to find out who killed him, with or without your help.”

  I turned on my heel and stalked angrily out of the room. So far, I was 0 for 2. I wasn’t getting very far with my investigation.

  Laura called me later that night and said that Joey’s mom had gone home with one of her sisters for the week and we’d have to put off our visit until she got back. I wasn’t too broken-hearted.

  All in all, I had precious little to offer at our meeting Friday night. It was a small comfort to learn that I wasn’t the only one. Everyone gathered in our apartment around a couple of extra-large pizzas. Killian and Asher were there, although I sensed some tension between the two of them. I had a feeling that their presence was not exactly a mutual decision. After everyone had scarfed down their first slice of pizza, Killian called the meeting to order.

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  JOSH ATEROVIS

  “We’ve had a week to start looking into things,” he said around a mouthful of hot cheese and pepperoni.

  “Has anybody come up with anything?”

  Nobody jumped to answer.

  “Will?” he asked. I told them about my disappointing run-ins with the psycho at the delivery office and Detective Grafton.

  With my failures out in the open, it seemed to break the ice for everyone else to share theirs. Aidan reported that David Kemp had been so high he didn’t even remember the police arriving, let alone if there had been anyone suspicious hanging around. A bull elephant could have gone on rampage in his living room and he wouldn’t have noticed. Needless to say, he didn’t know anything about the necklace either.

  Caitlin said that all Joey’s exes had said pretty much the same thing: he was a jerk, and they weren’t exactly choked up over his death. Only Shelley had been at the party though, and she claimed she had an alibi; she had been with her new boyfriend, David Kemp. Since we had already established that David didn’t even know if he’d been at the party, the alibi wasn’t really all that strong so we didn’t cross her off the list. Then again, that may also have had something to do with the fact that we didn’t really have a list.

  Laura hadn’t had a chance to talk to Blake yet. Since none of us was having much success with our interviews, Killian suggested we team up for future assignations. The idea was that if one person froze up or didn’t know what to ask, hopefully the other person could step in and pick up the slack.

  “It’s important that we talk to this Blake as soon as possible,” Killian said. “Now that we know the pack-218

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  age is a dead end, she’s our main hope. If she saw something, anything, then we’ve got somewhere to head toward; otherwise, we’ve got nothing.”

  “If you ask me, that’s exactly what we’ve got,” Asher said. It was the first thing he’d said since he and Killian had arrived, and it earned him a warning look from Killian.

  “It’s early yet,” Gabe said. “We’ve barely gotten started.”

  “We’ve barely gotten started and it’s already almost a month since he was killed,” Caitlin pointed out. “Talk about a cold trail. Why are we even doing this?”

  “Because he was our friend and we loved him,” Laura snapped. “Maybe you don’t give a damn about him, but we do. What are you even doing here?”

  “I thought I was one of the gang now. Isn’t that what you said?”

  Laura’s eyes flashed and I could tell a major cat fight was brewing, but before I could step in to dispel it, Killian did the job for me.

  “Gabe’s right, it’s too early to know how things are going to go just yet. There are still several avenues to explore. What about Joey’s mom?”

  “She’s out of town,” Laura said grudgingly. “Will and I will see her as soon as she gets back.”

  “So what do we do next?” I asked deject
edly. “It seems like we keep hitting a brick wall.”

  “Give up?” Asher said hopefully.

  “It’s way too early to give up,” Gabe said. “Didn’t you just hear us? We haven’t talked to Blake yet, or Joey’s mom—and we still don’t have the medical examiner’s report. Let me try to get it; it seems to me it should be a matter of public record. Maybe that detec-219

  JOSH ATEROVIS

  tive just didn’t want you to be playing cops and rob-bers.”

  “You mean like we are doing?” Asher asked innocently.

  Killian shot him another dirty look.

  “Why is this report so important?” Caitlin asked.

  “It might tell us something we don’t know,” Gabe finished lamely.

  “That wouldn’t be hard,” Aidan said, which gained him a dirty look from Laura this time.

  “I mean, it might show if he had head trauma,” Gabe said defensively.

  “What would that tell us?” I asked.

  “That maybe someone hit Joey over the head before he fell in the pool.”

  “But wouldn’t the cops have noticed that?” Aidan argued.

  “They might have assumed it happened when he fell in.”“And how would we know it didn’t?”

  “We wouldn’t,” Gabe said through clenched teeth,

  “but it would at least be a possibility.”

  “Why don’t I go with Laura when she goes to talk to Blake?” I asked, as much to change the subject as anything. “We can ask her about the necklace too.”

  “How about if I take a look at David’s back yard while I’m at it? You know, to get a feel for the layout of things,”

  Gabe offered. “I know him pretty well. He’s a major pothead, so I’ll just act like I’m trying to score a little weed.”

  “Good idea!” Killian enthused. “It sounds like everyone knows what they are doing; let’s meet back here again one week from tonight.”

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  With all the tension in the air, everyone quickly cleared out of the apartment. Killian and Asher were the last to leave, and on their way out, I overheard Killian say to Asher, “Are you happy? I’m letting them do all the footwork and we’re staying out of it.”

  To which Asher replied, “I’d be happy if we weren’t involved at all.”

  I hoped my asking them to get involved wouldn’t develop into a major rift in their relationship. I would never forgive myself if that happened.

  ***

  When I arrived at work the next morning, Nikki was waiting. “The reviews come out tomorrow,” she announced. “Don’t you ever say hello?” I said grouchily. I hadn’t slept very well the night before.

  “It’s a waste of time and breath. Why not just go right to the important stuff?”

  “Did you get any advance copies of the reviews?” I asked her.

  “You know,” she said absently, as if I hadn’t even asked her a question, “you’d better get some more paintings done pronto so we can get them up in here.”

  I wondered if she was purposefully avoiding my question and, if so, what that meant. Were the reviews so bad she didn’t want to tell me?

  “You know, you’ve never even asked me how much money you made,” she said suddenly.

  I blushed. I’d thought about it, of course, but felt it would be rude to ask. Nikki laughed when I told her that.

  “You’re going to have to get over that attitude fast, buster. Pushy has to be an artist’s middle name or you’ll 221

  JOSH ATEROVIS

  get walked all over. People are sharks in this business.

  Do you want to know now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Pushy!”

  “Uh—yes, tell me.”

  “Pushier!”

  “Er—um—tell me now, wench!”

  She burst into laughter. “Okay, that was a little much.

  You definitely need some assertiveness training. Now, about the sales—maybe you’d better sit down.”

  “Why? Is the news that bad?”

  “You decide. I priced your paintings between $300

  and $500. After my commission that means you pulled down about $6000.”

  Maybe I should have sat down. I stood staring dumbly with my mouth hanging open.

  “Better shut that thing before you swallow a fly,” she said with a grin. “Not bad for a month’s work, huh? Of course, you can’t do that every month. You can only pull off a show like that once or twice a year. The good news, though, is that at your next show your prices will start at $500 and go up from there. We’ve set a benchmark and it only goes up.”

  “I’ve never had that much money at one time before,”

  I managed finally.

  “Don’t go buy yourself a mansion just yet, Richie Rich.

  It’s not as much as it sounds like, especially if that was all you had to live on. The term starving artist was coined for a reason you know. If, and it’s a big if, you become well-known and your prices soar, you might become rich being an artist, but those cases are few and far between. The reviews will have a lot to do with your immediate future, but even if they aren’t favorable don’t 222

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  get discouraged. Many successful artists had terrible critical reviews when they were first starting out. Even a bad review can be good if it stirs enough interest.”

  I again wondered if she was subtly trying to tell me to expect bad reviews. I didn’t get a chance to ask her, though, because an older couple came in at that moment looking for a painting for their living room. Something preferably with green and gold in it, the lady said.

  By the time Nikki had wound down from her lecture on how art should not be bought to complement the décor, the whole matter of the reviews had slipped my mind. The couple left eventually with slightly stunned expressions and a painting tucked carefully under the gentleman’s arm.

  Just before closing, Laura swept through the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Nice to see you, too,” she said dryly. “I came to pick you up. Mrs. Taylor is home and she feels up for a visit.”

  “I don’t know if I feel up for a visit,” I said weakly, but I knew it was futile to argue with Laura. I went and told Nikki that I was leaving and we set off for Joey’s house in Laura’s little red Camry.

  “Let me do the talking,” Laura said as we pulled into the driveway.

  “Great, how about if I just stay in the car then?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Will! Get some balls! Why are you so scared about seeing Mrs. Taylor again?”

  “I just don’t like dealing with other people’s grief,” I said. “It’s too—real. It almost overwhelms me.”

  Laura sighed and opened her door. “Come on, Dionne, and bring your psychic friends with you.”

  “Very funny,” I grumbled as I followed her up to the front door.

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  JOSH ATEROVIS

  Mrs. Taylor answered looking about ten years older than the last time I had seen her. Her hair was a mess and dark circles surrounded her eyes, making her look rather like a rumpled raccoon.

  “Come on in,” she said. “I’m sorry the house is such a mess. I was out of town and then, well I just haven’t felt like doing anything since I got back.”

  “It’s fine, Mrs. Taylor,” Laura said soothingly. “We’re not worried about the house.”

  We settled in the living room, which still had plastic cups and saucers scattered about the room from the day of the funeral. After some initial small talk and general remembrances, Laura brought up the purpose of our visit.

  “Mrs. Taylor, we’re trying to get a better picture of what was going on in Joey’s life just before this happened. He seemed—different, somehow, and we feel we need to know why so we can move on.”

  Mrs. Taylor nodded. “He was different, that’s for sure.

  I don’t really know what was going on with him.”

  “Did anything unusual happen in the last few months?”

  “No, not really. Well—except—he did get very interested in his father. He wanted to find him.”

 
; Laura could barely contain her excitement. “And did he?”

  “Not that I know of. I discouraged him, of course. He dropped it after a while.”

  “Mrs. Taylor, would you mind if we took a look around Joey’s room?”

  She thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t guess it matters much now, does it?” she said at last. “Go ahead.”

  She followed us to the door but didn’t come into the 224

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  room. Laura and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Neither of us had much experience searching a room, let alone with someone watching us. After a few seconds, Mrs. Taylor turned and walked away, taking with her the weight of her sadness. I almost gasped with relief. As soon as she was gone, Laura pounced on the small desk that sat by the bed.

  “I feel weird going through Joey’s stuff,” I said.

  “It’s not like he’s going to care,” Laura said as she sifted through a pile of papers.

  “Still—it just feels weird.”

  “We’re his best friends. You know he wouldn’t care.”

  “Maybe there was a time when he wouldn’t have cared, but toward the end ”

  “Oh! What’s this?” she said suddenly as she straightened up.

  “What’s what?”

  “It looks like a letter.”

  “Lemme see.”

  Laura held it behind her back. “No, you feel weird going through Joey’s stuff remember?”

  “Oh, grow up, Laura,” I growled. She grinned and produced the page. I read over her shoulder as we both scanned the sprawling handwriting.

  “I think we just hit the jackpot,” she breathed.

  It was a letter from Joey’s dad.

  Dear Son,

  How’s my little slugger? Not so little anymore, huh? I can’t tell you how much it meant to get a letter from you after all these years. I know I’ve missed 225

  JOSH ATEROVIS

  so much. I would very much like to make it up to you if you would give me a chance.

  How about if you meet me at my boat at the marina this weekend and we can catch up? Hope to see you then.

 

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