by Nan Sampson
She groaned again, rolled her eyes then pulled up voice mail. "I hate you," she muttered.
He shook his head at her while she listened to Marg's message from 6:15 that morning. "Hi, hon. Hope things are going well there with the arrangements and everything. I just wanted to let you know there was a teeny little accident this morning. Nothing we can't handle, I've already called the insurance company and filed the police report with Bill. Seth and Earl are gonna come by later this morning to board up the front of the shop, so no worries on that front either. Bottom line, all is good, so you don't worry your head about it. I'll probably call later on, but if I don't get a chance, just know everything's handled. Give my best to Kate!"
She sat there, mouth gaping, stunned for a moment. "Oh my God. What happened?" She looked at Charlie. "Board up the front of the shop? Why?" She dialed Marg's number again, and again it went to voice mail.
Charlie was watching her intently. "What did she say?"
"She said they had to board up the shop." She scrolled through her contacts, found Arabella's number, dialed it. The phone rang three times as Ellie held her breath. She was about ready to give up and throw the damn phone in frustration when Arabella answered.
"Hello, dear. How are you?"
She bit back her first response, which was, 'how the hell do you think I am?'. "I'm not sure. I just got Marg's rather cryptic voice mail. Bella, what happened?"
Arabella sighed. "I told her not to leave you a message. But she insisted. She never listens to me." Ellie could almost see Arabella shaking her head. "It's really nothing for you to worry about, dear. A tour bus driver lost control of a bus this morning and his front end made the acquaintance of your front window."
"What?!"
"Now, don't get all worked up. Earl and Seth are over there right now, boarding it up for safety. Marg has already been in touch with the insurance company and they're going to send an adjuster out this afternoon. It'll all be right as rain by the time you get home."
It felt as though someone were squeezing her heart. "I'll be there by lunch time. What time is the claims adjuster coming?"
"Ellie, no. You are not to come racing home. Everything is under control."
In her mind's eye, she could see the shop, the front demolished, the wood framing splintered, the huge bay window shattered, the doorway nothing more than bits of kindling. The sign she'd had made at no small expense was hanging broken, the awning shredded, the little cafe tables and chair scattered and bent across the broken black and white floor tiles. Everything she'd worked so hard for, everything she'd spent the last six months building, destroyed by some idiot who couldn't maneuver a tour bus down a street. She gulped air, unable to breathe. "I'll be there by one." Before Arabella could argue further, she ended the call.
"Ellie? You okay?"
She'd almost forgotten Charlie was there. "Fine." She climbed out of bed, not caring that she was only wearing a t-shirt that barely covered her back side, grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly pulled them on. "I've got to go."
He looked puzzled and for a wonder, he was actually silent for a minute or two while she emptied the dresser drawers and shoved her clothes in her suitcase. She was turning to grab the few things she'd put in the nightstand when he stood and grabbed her wrist. "What the hell, Gooden? You're just going to leave? Now?"
"Why wouldn’t I? You said it yourself, they’ve closed Lacey’s case. Lawson’s in the wind, and who knows if they’ll ever find him. The cops are idiots and nothing I do or say is going to change their minds.” She glared at him. “And in case you weren’t listening, some moron ran a bus through the front of my shop. I need to get home." She tried to pull her arm back, but he wouldn't release her.
"You can't!"
"Let go of me." She yanked her arm back and he released her abruptly. "I can and I will."
"So you're quitting." Charlie's blue eyes were ice cold.
"I'm not quitting. I'm going home to take care of an emergency." She brushed past him, snatched up her possessions and then stuffed them into her suitcase before giving the zipper a violent jerk. "Besides, there's nothing more I can do. The evidence is gone. I have no proof who killed Lacey - just a bunch of vague suspicions. What do you expect me to do?"
“You can stay and help me pull some more strings. Lawson couldn’t have done this alone. We can sift through the evidence, find his associates. One of them will crack. One of them will tell us who killed Lacey. Then we don’t even need Lawson.”
She found herself getting louder as anger and frustration boiled up. "Charlie, no one is going to believe it, even if you got it on video tape. The cops have made up their minds." She slammed her little wheelie suitcase upright on its wheels. "What difference does it make anyway? It's just one more unsolvable cold case. Happens all the time, right? Lacey was no one, as far as they’re concerned, just like my parents were no one. It’s over. I’ll learn to deal with it, just like before."
She wanted him to yell back at her, but he just stood there like a statue made of ice. "You're quitting. I guess I should've known that's what you'd do. It's your MO. When things get uncomfortable or hard, you quit and run away."
She stopped for a moment and glared at him. "You bastard. You have no idea what you're talking about."
"No, Ellie, I know you better than you think I do. I've had years to watch you operate. The way you dump all your boyfriends the minute they get too close, the way you hightailed it up to Bumblefuck, WI after your parents died. Hell, when things went south up there last spring, you wanted to run back to Chicago. That's what you do, Ellie. When things get hard, you run. And that's what you're doing now. Running away - when what you really should be doing is digging in, trying to solve this thing, trying to honor your friend's memory by giving her justice."
Ellie swallowed. She wanted to scream something at him, but nothing would come. Blood thrummed in her ears and throbbed at her temples as memories assaulted her. She swallowed again over a hard lump in her throat, then stuffed all those memories back down into the box where they belonged. "You have no right. Get out."
"Why? So you can run away from me too?"
She leveled another look at him, watched his face blanch. "I said get out."
He pressed his lips together, watching her as though he expected something more. When nothing happened, he threw up his hands. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to clean up this mess myself. Have a nice life, Gooden."
She continued to glare at the door long after he’d gone. How dare he? He knew nothing about her. He knew nothing, period. Fuming, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and with a violent yank, trundled the thing out into the hall and down the stairs.
If Kate was surprised at Ellie's desire to immediately depart for home before she'd even had breakfast, she didn't let on. After listening to the story about the shop and making the necessary noises of concern, she dutifully followed Ellie out into the front hall, only quirking an eyebrow slightly at the sight of Ellie's already packed suitcase.
"Are you sure you feel well enough to drive all the way up there today?"
"I'll be fine."
"You're welcome to stay a few more days. You know perfectly well that everyone up there has the problem under control. A little R&R, now that the, um, funeral is over, might do you a world of good."
Ellie shook her head. "I'm fine. Besides, it's my shop. It's my responsibility to take care of things." The back of her head throbbed suddenly and she forced herself to smile through the pain. "You've got enough on your plate here, anyway."
A flicker of some emotion crossed Kate's face, then vanished. The woman pressed her lips together.
Ellie sighed. "I'm sorry, Katie. I suck at this kind of stuff, you know that. I really appreciate you letting me stay here, and for everything you've done since... well, since. But it's time for me to go home."
Kate looked over Ellie's shoulder, avoiding eye contact. "I thought you and Charlie were going to try to solve her murder."
What wa
s there to say to that, other than the truth? "This isn't an episode of Murder She Wrote, Kate. We gave the cops all the evidence we had and they still don’t think it was anything more than a mugging." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Oh hell, Kate. It really might have happened just like the cops say. It could have been some totally random act of violence."
"You don't believe that. Not after Lacey's message to you, the Samhain card, the safe deposit box, Lacey’s letter."
"It's all circumstantial. All of it could be explained away - and in fact, has been." She felt the old anger burn inside her stomach. "That's what the cops say." She took Kate's hand, willed her to meet her gaze. "Kate, the bottom line is, Lacey is gone."
Kate pressed her lips together, tears forming in her eyes. "Damn." She pulled Ellie into a long hug. "I can't believe we're not three anymore."
"We haven't been three in a long time."
"That's not true," Kate said, sniffing. "We were always three, whether you wanted to admit it or not. And now..." She hugged Ellie harder. "Now it's just us. And it feels empty."
Ellie patted her friend's back awkwardly, not pulling away from the embrace even though she desperately wanted to.
Finally, Kate let go, wiped her face. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry." Guilt dug at her. She was sorry Lacey was dead, but again, the sense of loss just wasn't there. Not knowing what to say, she rubbed Kate's shoulder in imitation of the way other people had tried to comfort her after her parents' death. "You going to be okay?"
Kate straightened her shoulders, put on a smile. "Yes, of course." She stole a glance towards the kitchen. "Will you at least let me pack you something to eat for the trip?"
"I don't need anything to eat. What I need is to get home and take a look at the damage to the shop. The horror in my imagination is probably much worse than the real thing. Once I see what's what, I'll probably feel much better."
Kate nodded. "It's always worse in your mind." She looked down at the wheelie suitcase. "So... you're ready to go?"
"Yeah."
Kate searched her face for a moment. "You know, once you've seen the shop, if you want to come back, maybe this coming weekend, Charlie might have had time to dig up something new and then the two of you--"
"Kate."
"Okay, okay. Still, you could come and stay for the weekend. I miss you. We really haven't had much time to spend together since you got here."
"It sure didn't turn out like I thought it would."
"So you'll come down again on Friday?"
The hope in Kate's voice had her almost considering it. "You know I'd love to. But not this weekend. I've already been gone too long. Poor Erik has probably gained ten pounds in Per's charge. And the shop..."
Kate nodded, and for a moment Ellie thought she might cry again. Instead she gave Ellie another hug. "Fine. Be stubborn. But you're going to come back at Christmas. And you'll stay at least three full days, not counting travel time."
Ellie opened her mouth to object, but was shushed by 'the hand'.
"No. You will not argue with me. You're coming and that's all there is to it. Make whatever arrangements you need to in advance." She had her stern, 'mom' look on, but Ellie saw the twinkle in her eyes.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Will he be here?"
"Who? Dan?"
"No. Your free-loader."
Kate laughed. "I have no idea. Possibly. I thought you two had come to some kind of an accord. In fact--"
"No. I mean, we tolerate each other. We always have - although he seems to be turning up underfoot way more than he used to. But no, we are not a thing. There is no 'thing' nor will there ever be a ‘thing’. Got it?"
At that moment, Charlie came through the doorway from the basement. "Methinks she doth protest too much."
Kate grinned at her brother-in-law. "Took the words right out of my mouth."
Ellie sighed. Giving Kate a quick buss on the cheek, she grabbed the handle of her wheelie. "I'll call you when I get home."
Kate got the door for her and as she struggled to lift the wheelie over the threshold, Charlie neatly snatched it from her and carried it effortlessly to her car. "You want it in the back or the trunk?"
"Back. I could have done that myself."
"Yeah, I know." He wasn't grinning at her. Instead his gaze was guarded, but at least he wasn't bristling with anger. "Make sure you call. Kate will worry if you don't."
Kate still stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching them. She wore a silly, sort of smug expression. Ellie waved at her then turned to get in the car. Charlie opened the door for her as if on cue, and she groaned. "You're not helping things, McCallum. She still thinks we're an item and you're just making it worse."
A tight smile curved the corners of his mouth. "I'm just being a gentleman, like my mama taught me." He stepped back as she yanked the door shut. "You should know that she also taught me not to be a quitter. I'm not done with this, Glenda. Not done with this and not done with--" He blew out a breath through his nose. "Whatever. Drive safe."
Ellie glared at him. She wanted to say, 'I'm not a quitter either' but she refused to make a scene in Kate's driveway. With a squeal of her tires, she backed out then took off at speed down the suburban street, wanting to get away from McCallum, Chicago and a giant mountain of painful memories just as fast as Arabella's little Honda would take her.
Chapter 43
It took her much longer than she had thought it would take to get to the Belvidere Oasis. During the nearly two-hour drive, her cellphone had rung four times. Each time, it had been Charlie’s number. She refused to answer. It was done. Over. Nothing he could say was going to change her mind.
Pulling into a parking place at the rest stop, she left a quick message for Per to let him know she would pick up Erik later that day, after she'd gone to the shop, then locked her car and entered the place. Not just a simple rest stop with bathrooms and vending machines, this place was like a food court at a mall, with a number of different fast food options, including the ubiquitous coffee chain.
What felt like hundreds of people bustled around, eating and talking and waiting in line – America's three favorite past times. Children ran amok, chasing one another, burning off energy after the confines of their car. When she was younger, on cross-country family trips with her parents, she would sit and watch the turmoil and make up stories about the people. Now as she stood there, waiting for her coffee, she found herself doing it again.
The couple sitting at the table in the corner were secretly rendezvousing, the woman escaping from an abusive husband and the man serially cheating on his dowdy wife. The family with the seven kids were heading out on a family vacation – the last one for a while, since the downtrodden- looking father had just been laid off from his factory job.
As she scanned the crowd, she caught sight of a flash of red, and her gaze shifted towards it. A bright red parka had turned and begun to walk away from her, in the direction of the restrooms. She tried to lean around the guy standing in front of her to get a better look, but the crowd was such that she could only catch glimpses of red, until she could no longer spot it at all.
Some compulsion she couldn't resist made her leave the line and start to chase after the figure in the red parka, convinced at some level that whoever had killed Lacey – and whoever had attacked her at the funeral home – was now following her home. At one point, she thought she saw the figure look behind, and then increase their pace, which in turn made Ellie break into a jog.
She wove in and out of the crowd, side-stepping children, and dodging old ladies and truckers, scanning her surroundings, hunting for another flash of red. By the time she'd gone the length of the concourse, the person in red had disappeared.
The restrooms were a few yards further and she headed that way, thinking maybe the person had gone inside. In the ladies room, there was a woman with a stroller at the sink, and she could hear a little girl singing in one of the stalls. Three other doors
were closed, but with the mother standing at the sink, she couldn't exactly go peeking under the doors – she'd look like a pervert.
Slipping into one of the stalls, she figured she'd wait for the mother to leave, or wait for one of the other stalls to open. Then she'd... The absurdity of it all caught up with her. Then she'd what? Jump out and say, "Aha!"? Or maybe, "You in the red parka, stop!"?
And what if the figure in the red parka had been a man? Was she going to find some shill to go into the men’s room for her and hunt for the 'man in red'? Or maybe she'd just stand outside the men's room, looking like a 'working girl' cruising for business, and wait for Red Parka to come out.
Feeling ridiculous, she stood in the little stall until she heard the mother and her daughter go, flushed the toilet to cover her idiocy, and exited the bathroom. She retrieved her cooling coffee from where it sat on the counter of the coffee bar and sat down at a table, hoping no one had witnessed her trip into paranoia-ville.
She gulped down a few swallows, made a face, then dumped the rest of the cup in the trash and headed back to her car, feeling humiliated, imagining the patrons of the rest stop watching her go, commenting to each other on the crazy lady chasing a stranger in a red parka.
As she climbed into her car and cranked up the heat, a chilling thought occurred to her. Muriel Theissen had a red parka. She'd been wearing it the first time Ellie had met her, at the bar when Lacey's co-workers got together. She'd also had it on at the funeral home. And hadn’t the figure in her vision in the bathroom of the restaurant had on something red? She thought she remembered seeing a flash of it in the mirror when she'd been Lacey. Not that she could go to the cops with that. She could only imagine the way Kowalski would look at her if she told him she'd identified the killer by the coat they were wearing in a vision.
Sitting there, hands on the steering wheel, she remembered something else. The necklace Muriel was wearing at the funeral home. She kept playing with it, fingering it, almost like a talisman. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the earring she'd found in the ladies room at Ristorante Angelina. The earring she had, she realized, completely forgotten to tell Charlie about. Why hadn’t she noticed before? The earring she found and the charm dangling from the necklace Muriel had worn were identical.
