Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery)

by Slan, Joanna Campbell

  However, if I’d been an intruder, I’d have been dead. She doesn’t bark before she launches herself. When a 130-lb. Great Dane flies at you, you’re going down. On the way to the floor, she would snap your neck. Quiet, deadly, and effective.

  Satisfied that my daughter was out for the night, I made up the sofa for Rebekkah while she showered. When she wandered out of the bathroom wearing an oversized tee-shirt, I found two unscathed pieces of chicken, batter still intact, and offered them to her on a plate. All she ate was a drumstick, some mashed potatoes, and a scoop of coleslaw. Then she ambled over to the couch and fell asleep.

  “Nice not to worry about Dad,” she said, before she zonked with a capital Z.

  I briefly considered waking Anya so she could eat, but I learned a long time ago to let sleeping children dream on. The hard physical labor of breaking down the wall had tuckered out both girls.

  I phoned Amanda.

  “Mom’s home. They had nothing on her because I presented an alibi. Aunt Penny can vouch for her, too,” said my sister. “Yes, there’s blood on the screwdriver, and it was found in Mom’s purse, but I’m not sure they have the murder weapon. Obviously, she was set up. Anyway, we can talk about it later. I’m bushed. I bet you are, too.”

  “It’s just you and me, Colonel Sanders,” I said to the cartoon image of the Kentucky colonel. Grabbing the plastic dinnerware, I dug a chunk out of a crispy breast. Once I had that in my mouth, I mixed the coleslaw with a dollop of mashed potatoes. Super yum.

  Twenty minutes later, my stomach was full. Detweiler still hadn’t called. I still had no idea what Erik looked like, or how Detweiler’s day had gone. After putting the leftovers away, I took a shower and changed into a pair of drawstring pants and a loose top. To relax after a long day, I turn to Zentangle to unwind and clear my head, so I brought out my supplies and worked on a new design.

  Time passed quickly. I was totally absorbed in the process when my phone rang. A warm chuckle from Detweiler released the last of the tension in my shoulders. “Babe? Did I wake you?”

  “No! I was tangling. You know how I get. Better yet, how’re you? How’s Erik? Tell me everything!”

  Delivering the CliffsNotes version of his day, he hit the highpoints. Men are like that. Totally unsatisfying in their brevity. I was hungry for more. “What’s he like?”

  “He’s shy. Very sweet. He loves trucks and dinosaurs and Superman.”

  “And let me guess,” I said. “You’re totally head-over-heels in love with the child.”

  Again he chuckled. “Am I that transparent? Can you see my grin through the phone?”

  “Did he take to you?”

  “I think it was the gun. He noticed that right off the bat. You can imagine how thrilling that was for a little guy. Good thing I installed that gun safe at your house.”

  “Yeah. That’s not surprising.” I remembered Bonnie saying at a crop that even though she didn’t allow her son Felix to have toy guns, he’d bitten a piece of toast into the shape of a revolver and pretended to shoot her. This sparked a lively conversation among our croppers. The consensus was that boys will be boys, and the appeal of guns is built into their DNA.

  “That album you made? What a hit! The other kids crowded around. They loved the pictures of Gracie, but Monroe? That beast is a rock star for the under six set.”

  I laughed.

  “So you made lots of notes?”

  “No, I recorded comments on my cell phone.”

  “Smart guy.”

  “I try hard.”

  “So you’ve decided? He’s definitely coming home with you?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t stop me from bringing him along with.”

  “Did you get to put him to bed?” I’d glanced at the clock and realized I’d stayed up way past my bedtime. It was nearly midnight.

  “Actually, I read him both of the books you packed and tucked him in. Tyrone the Terrible was a hands-down winner.”

  That was one that Bonnie had recommended because her son loved it. I’d have to thank her. Better yet, I vowed not to let Bernice Stottlemeyer bug me. That’d be a fair trade.

  “What was your day like?” Detweiler asked.

  “Whoa. First of all, send me a photo.”

  “Um, I forgot to take one.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did. Hon, I was busy all day. The traffic here is every bit as bad as they say it is. Orson, the driver, hustled us from the pediatrician’s office to Erik’s summer camp before it let out. Tomorrow I’m having lunch with his teacher. She wasn’t available today. Believe me, I have a whole new respect for carpool parents.”

  Drat. I told myself not to be such a baby, but I was disappointed. I really, really wanted those photos. Right now, Erik was just a fantasy, but a photo would make him real. I hated that Detweiler was there, and I was here, and yet we were making such a huge decision. It would be so much easier if I could look Detweiler in the face, see his expression, and touch his hand.

  I sighed, but not so loudly that he could hear. Right now I needed to pull up my big girl panties and keep a smile on my face.

  “Good to hear that you’ve been observing the rituals of parenthood,” I said. “Because as of this fall, you are entering the carpool craziness zone. Welcome to the family rat race.”

  “Speaking of rat races, I knew that Lauber had money, but I had no idea how much. That nanny I mentioned? She worked full time for Gina and Van ever since Erik was born! I guess Van Lauber was seriously rich.”

  “And now he’s gone,” I said.

  “Right. Money can’t buy you immortality. That reminds me. What’s new with the Dr. Hyman case?”

  I told him about my mother being taken in for questioning.

  “I wish I’d been there for you,” he said.

  “Maybe it’s best that you weren’t, considering that Prescott is involved. Fortunately, my little sister works for a law firm. One of her co-workers went with her to spring Mom.”

  “Somebody set your mother up.”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. I’d been thinking about that all night. Who? And how’d they manage it? Was it someone at the senior center? It had to be. Who else would know Mom had gotten angry with Dr. Hyman? There couldn’t be a large pool of people!

  Or could it?

  Chapter 54

  Wednesday morning/Fourth day after the wedding…

  Anya gently shook me, trying to wake me from a bad dream. The fog of it lingered. I couldn’t make sense of all the impressions, but I knew that I had been running and trying to hide from someone in a house where the stairs had turned to slides. Every time I started scrambling up the steps, my footing would give way, and I’d start slipping into oblivion. It had been awful.

  “Mom? You okay? You were crying.” Her hand rested on my shoulder.

  I blinked at her, wiped my nose with the back of my hand, and tried to figure out where I was. Had I really fallen asleep at the kitchen table? Yup, I had. Furthermore, the foil top from a tub of butter was stuck to my face. I peeled the lid off. My Zentangle pen sat uncapped with the tip touching a paper napkin. The ink had bled. A Rorschach image had formed. The markers hold a lot of ink, but I’d bet that one was now dry. My eyes felt like I’d rubbed them with sandpaper. I bet mascara was smeared all over my face.

  “Are you drunk?” Anya leaned close to sniff my breath.

  “Have you ever seen me drunk?”

  “No, but there’s always a first time. Gran drinks. She falls asleep at her table, too.”

  That frosted my cupcakes. After growing up in a home with an alcoholic parent, I’d vowed not to let history repeat itself. “First of all, I don’t drink. Not like that. Second, I’m pregnant. I would never drink alcohol when I’m pregnant. I haven’t even been drinking diet colas. You know that. So before you start with accusations, you better know what you’re talking about, young lady.”

  “Geez, don’t go all hyphy on me, Mom.”

  I glared at her. “Hyphy” i
s teen-speak for hyper-active or overwrought. I wasn’t. I was, however, annoyed.

  “Anya, there’s a big difference between falling asleep and passing out.”

  “Morning,” said Rebekkah, as she ambled in, fully dressed. “Thanks again, Kiki, for going with me to take Dad to the hospital. And for picking up dinner for us. I know it made for a late night for you.”

  “See?” I said to Anya. “We’ll continue this conversation later. Oh, my gosh, look at the time! We better hustle or we’ll be late picking up Aunt Penny. By the way. Good news. My mother is out of jail.”

  Anya shrugged. “Yep. I guess that’s good. Except that while she was there, she couldn’t pester you.”

  In short order, we’d piled into my car. Gracie was scrunched in back between Anya and Rebekkah. Eventually, the big dog put her rump onto the floor and rested her front legs on Anya’s lap. I pointed us toward my mother’s house and turned on the local news. The weatherman predicted rain and storms. After a commercial for a local drycleaner, the reporter announced there had been a break in the Dr. Morrie Hyman murder case.

  “At a press briefing early this morning, Captain Prescott Gallaway announced that a suspect has been apprehended, following what he characterized as an arduous investigation. The police captain admitted the arrest had taken longer than he wanted. He blamed the department’s slow progress on a culture of complacency that must be corrected. He ended the conference with a plea for new leadership to shake up the lackadaisical elements within the department.”

  “What?” I shouted at the Blaupunkt radio in my dash. “How dare he!”

  “Look at the bright side, Mom,” said Anya. “If he’s found the killer, Gran and Robbie can go on their honeymoon. Robbie can go back to work when they return. He’ll get this guy Prescott straightened out. It’s all good.”

  She was right; the drama was over. Sure, Prescott could make all the excuses he wanted, but Robbie’s record would speak for itself. Robbie was a smart man. All he needed to do was return from his vacation with Sheila and announce he was making changes. Once the media heard the sound-bite, he would regain the upper hand.

  Despite the dark clouds gathering overhead, Aunt Penny fairly bounced down the brick steps of the U City house. Today she wore a Jethro Tull tee shirt tucked into her baggy jeans. “McDonalds? I’m buying!” she chirped.

  It’s against my religion to turn down free food.

  On our way to the drive-through, I learned three things: Horace would be at the hospital all day, Rebekkah’s car was being towed to a local garage, and my mother blamed me for her arrest.

  A wave of morning sickness hit me when I caught sight of Aunt Penny’s oatmeal.

  Wouldn’t you know it, I had to pull over and upchuck at the side of Clayton Road, one of the classiest streets in the area.

  “Way to go, Mom,” said Anya. “Totally ick-city.”

  “Five months to labor and counting, girlfriend. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Chapter 55

  My construction crew hit the ground running. I brewed myself a cup of peppermint tea and tackled my least favorite job: Paperwork.

  I opened the computer and found a message from Margit. She’s a newbie at email correspondence but catching on fast. Her roof had sprung a leak with all the bad weather, and she asked if there was any way I could do without her so she could call roofing companies. But to make up for her absence, she had emailed me our monthly profitability report.

  I emailed her that the crowd this evening would probably be small, especially considering the storms brewing. I wished her luck with the roofers and printed out the P & L statement. What I saw was disappointing. Even though we’d improved our profitability, our overall sales were down. This was true industry-wide, but that knowledge didn’t comfort me.

  Somehow I’d have to keep our doors open.

  Clancy called. “I still have a migraine. This changing weather always sets off my headaches. Do you need me?”

  “No. Stay home and take some of that medicine the doctor prescribed for you. Don’t be such a martyr, Clancy. If your head hurts, take a pill.”

  “I hate to, but I think I’ll have to. That stuff makes me groggy.”

  “So sleep off your migraine and stay dry,” I told her.

  “Love you, Kiki.”

  I was shocked. Clancy rarely showed affection. It just wasn’t her style. This sweet goodbye meant the world to me, and I started to tell her so, but she’d already hung up.

  My friends.

  This store was a wheel hub, and we were all spokes. Each of us had our strengths. But as a group, we were really impressive. We could keep a tire spinning, traveling over rough terrain. And we’d been joined together by Dodie.

  Where was she now?

  I ran my hand over the desktop. How could an inanimate object of so little worth still be here when Dodie was gone? How could that be right? Why did God decide that people should die and things should stick around? Where was the justice? Dodie had been bigger than life, or so I’d thought. It never really seemed possible that she would die. Even when I saw her looking so frail, I didn’t believe she was leaving us. It had been too hard to imagine this store without Dodie. I couldn’t wrap my head around never seeing her again. Or never hearing her call me, “Sunshine.”

  She’d left an imprint on every part of the store. I sat in this big honking leather seat because she explained, “Men have big desk chairs. Why shouldn’t I? I am a CEO. Besides, it’s comfy.”

  I stared across from the desk at a photo she’d taken of a Galapagos turtle at the St. Louis Zoo. As a photographer, she was no great shakes, but this picture was fabulous. Just really amazing.

  I opened the top desk drawer and rummaged through her office supplies. She loved her Swingline stapler, and when she discovered brightly colored staples, she switched to them and stapled every paper she could get her hands on.

  I heard a rattle in the back of the drawer. Reaching in, I pulled out the toy turtle. That was odd. I’d thought I’d put him in my purse. Instead of tucking him away, I paused and studied him carefully.

  A customer vacationing in Florida had bought the turtle for Dodie. The toy’s head, legs and tail were loosely attached so that they bobbed constantly. Dodie had found this totally amusing. When she was bothered by something, she’d pull the turtle from the drawer and watch him bob-bob-bobbing along. His antics made her laugh.

  “This turtle reminds me that you only make progress when you are willing to stick your neck out,” she’d said.

  Dodie was always sharing her silly but pertinent bits of wisdom.

  How I missed her.

  There had been tough times for the business, but she’d always managed to find a way to be profitable. Sometimes it seemed she kept Time in a Bottle going through the sheer strength of her personality. Everywhere I turned there were touches of Dodie, small remembrances she’d been here.

  Her best memorial was this store.

  Would I be savvy enough to keep the doors open?

  Chapter 56

  I didn’t have much time to ponder these deep thoughts because my cell phone rang. I answered without looking at the number. Robbie Holmes voice boomed at me before I even put the phone to my ear.

  “Prescott arrested Sheila. He insisted on having her cuffed and shoved her into a police car with the Jimmy Girls watching!”

  “Oh, my gosh,” I groaned.

  “I didn’t want Anya to hear it on the news.”

  “Is Sheila okay?”

  “She’s in booking right now.”

  “Have you called a lawyer?”

  “Jim Hagg is on his way here right now. He’s already gotten a judge to agree to an emergency bond hearing.”

  In a million years, I would have never guessed that Robbie would hire Jim Hagg. Hagg specialized on getting people off. Even people who were guilty. Needless to say, the law enforcement community hated Hagg. They risked their lives to put bad guys behind bars while Hagg became a millionaire sev
eral times over by getting creeps off on technicalities.

  But Robbie had hired Hagg.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because you don’t bring a Chihuahua to a fight with a pit bull. He’s the toughest, meanest SOB out there. I’m sending a clear message to Prescott. He’s crossed a line. Think about it, Kiki. Can you imagine how many creeps I’ve put behind bars? How eager they’d be to get their hands on my wife? I have to get her out of there, and frankly right now, I couldn’t care less about how hiring Hagg looks. He thinks she’ll be out of the slammer in time for lunch. And he better be right. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Sheila. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Robbie was clearly shook up, and his fear proved contagious.

  “How can he justify this? First my mother and now Sheila? Does he have any real evidence against her?” Prescott was starting to really make me mad.

  “Not much. No weapon, of course, because that was planted on your mother. Witnesses saw Sheila’s argument with Dr. Hyman. There’s the invitation, and a longstanding grudge because Dr. Hyman messed up her nose.” Robbie hesitated before adding, “And some unfortunate emails.”

  “Emails?” A sick shiver snaked up my spine. What had Sheila said about Robbie not being able to testify against her?

  “Um, that night after their confrontation at the country club, while I was in bed, she went online. Found a website that specializes in airing grudges. Boy, did she vent her spleen about Dr. Hyman.”

  “She’s smarter than that!”

  “Not when she’s been drinking. I did my best to clean up the mess the next morning, but I’m no computer whiz.”

  What had Anya said this morning? About her Gran passing out? I’d always known Sheila to enjoy a glass of wine or two. And champagne. She loved her bubbly. But when had she slipped from a casual drinker to a woman with a problem? Or had she?

  “What can I do? How can I help?” I asked.

  “Hadcho should arrive at your store around noon with photos of the envelope that Dr. Hyman’s invitation came in. The crime scene people found it in the trash at the doctor’s house. I have a hunch that you were right. From the photo, it looks like an everyday piece of stationery. Of course, I don’t know what to look for, but you do, so I’m counting on you to give it a thumbs-up or thumbs-down.”