Foul Play (A Moose River Mystery Book 4)

by Jeff Shelby

  The girl behind the counter set the pink box of donuts on the counter. “She ran away.”

  I looked at her. “What?”

  “Amanda,” she said. “She ran away.” Her nails tapped on the cash register. “My brother played hockey with her cousin’s ex-boyfriend’s next door neighbor. People talk.”

  Apparently so.

  Officer Ted handed her a twenty-dollar bill and looked at me. “She did, in fact, have a bit of a skirmish with her parents awhile back. Took off for a weekend. Found her at a family friend’s farm over in Wisconsin. Ended up not being a big deal, but...well, there’s a history, I guess you might say.”

  “Is her family worried this time?” I asked.

  The girl handed Officer Ted back his change and he dropped it all in the glass tip jar. “Well, sure. They aren’t quite sure what’s going on.” He fitted his cap back on top of his bald pate and nodded at the girl behind the register. “Thanks.”

  She sat down on a wooden stool and picked up the paperback book she’d been reading before I got there. “Anytime.”

  He pushed the door open for me and I stepped past him into the chilly morning air. The last of the leaves glowed golden in the early morning sun.

  He let the door shut behind him before he said anything else. “Sorry. Didn’t want to say too much. She’s right. People talk in Moose River.”

  “I know and I’m sorry,” I told him. “It’s not really any of my business anyway. It’s just been something we’ve been around this week because the girls are in the play with her.”

  He waved his free hand in the air. “No, no. Wasn’t talking about you, Daisy. I knew why you were asking and that you aren’t one of the town criers. Didn’t mean to act like you were.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Shoot, you’re almost an unofficial department employee at this point,” he said, smiling. “You’re solving stuff without us.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, more embarrassed than flattered.

  “Anyway,” he said. “Yes, her family is worried.”

  “So it’s official then? She’s missing? And I’m only asking because I feel like no one’s been too concerned around the play, almost like it was no big deal.”

  He rubbed at his chin, holding the pink box of donuts under his other arm. “Her family filed a report. There is some concern. But since she’s an adult and she’s done it before, I can’t say that it’s at the top of anyone’s list.” He made a face. “I mean, we haven’t seen evidence of anything bad and for all we know, she might be at that farm in Wisconsin right now.”

  “So you aren’t looking for her?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t wanna say we aren’t looking for her, but we’re a small department, you know? We can only do so much. Looking for someone who might just be tired of her family just doesn’t hit the top of the list, unfortunately.”

  I understood that. They were a small department. Manpower was at a premium. But I’d think that if her family was really worried about her, they might be pressuring them to do more.

  “I’d be freaking out if it were my daughter,” I admitted.

  He chuckled. “I would, too, Daisy. They’re younger and don’t have a history. We’d approach that one a lot different.” He adjusted his cap. “Hopefully, she’ll turn up and we’ll learn it was all a big misunderstanding. That’s the best case scenario.”

  “What’s the worst?” I asked.

  He rubbed at his chin again and looked me square in the eye. “That she stays gone.”

  FIFTEEN

  “I have a crisis,” Brenda said.

  I switched the phone to my other hand. I’d been home for a couple of hours and I’d made some significant progress on the play program, putting together two different designs Will had helped me with. The girls were both upstairs reading and Will had transitioned to working on a game app that he’d been fixated on for the last couple of weeks. I saw Brenda’s name pop up on my phone screen and was grateful for the temporary diversion.

  Until she mentioned the crisis.

  “Is this a real crisis or the kind of crisis that only feels like a crisis because you’re ready to tear your hair out?” I asked.

  “Real,” she answered. “My house is a giant vomitorium.”

  I made a face. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes! Four of five are puking their guts out,” she said. “I’ve got them all on different levels of the house and I’m sprinting up and down the stairs.”

  Stomach viruses in large households were like wildfires. They spread quickly and took out everyone in their paths. We’d been there. I lived in fear of them when I heard they were circulating, washing my own hands obsessively and reminding the kids to keep their hands clean.

  “And Johnny is at the corn maze all day.”

  “What? I thought he hated corn mazes,” I said.

  “He does.” She chuckled. “But it’s a work thing. Team-building or something. So who knows when I’ll see him again. If ever.”

  A vision of Johnny racing frantically through a maze flashed in my head and I stifled a giggle. “What do you need?” I asked.

  “Maddie is at cheer this afternoon,” she said. “Would you possibly be able to grab her and bring her home?”

  I contemplated saying no. After all, I could be introducing deadly stomach virus germs into my own household. But my hesitation lasted all of two seconds. It was Brenda, and I couldn’t say no. “Yep, no problem,” I said, wondering if I somehow owned a hazmat suit I’d forgotten about. “What time?”

  “She’s done in half an hour.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  Brenda breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “But do not come out of your house or touch me when I drop her off.”

  SIXTEEN

  A woman started eyeing me as soon as I walked in the gym.

  I’d closed up the computer after I hung up with Brenda, told the kids where I was headed and got to the gym about five minutes early. It was filled with loud music and shouting and teenage girls doing tumbling runs and sporting gigantic fake smiles while they moved. The smiles withered as soon as they finished whatever movement they were practicing.

  I took a seat on one of the lower bleacher benches and immediately noticed a woman looking at me. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, the hair pulled so tight it looked like it hurt. She had on too much makeup, a tight red T-shirt with “FLY OR DIE!” emblazoned across the front and black spandex leggings. A whistle hung around her neck. She had the physique of those workout people you see on TV – all muscles and hard angles that don’t look entirely real.

  She stared at me with hard, dark eyes, the whistle perched between her lips. I wasn’t sure whether I had done something wrong or whether I wasn’t supposed to be in the gym, but I’d definitely done something to get her attention. When she turned away from me and toward the girls in the middle of the gym, I could see the name “MATHISEN” emblazoned across the back of her shoulder blades.

  She blew hard on the whistle and all of the activity in the gym came to a halt. The girls immediately sprinted to the middle, where she’d stationed herself. Their red, sweaty faces watched her every move. She spoke quietly, her head rotating slowly through the group, looking at each and every girl. When she was done speaking, she held her hand in the air and the girls pushed together, raising their hands up to hers. After a couple more seconds, they all screamed, “ROAR!” and then separated once again, talking and chatting amongst themselves as they picked up their water bottles and warm-ups.

  I caught Maddie’s eye and waved at her. Brenda told me that she would text her to tell her I was going to come get her, so she didn’t seem all that surprised to see me. She waved back and signaled that she’d be a minute. I nodded and smiled, hopefully conveying we weren’t in a rush.

  “Normally, we don’t allow that type of clothing in this gym,” a voice said to my right.

>   I looked away from Maddie and was surprised to see the woman with the whistle standing next to the bleachers, her hands on her hips, a frown on her face.

  I looked down at my wardrobe. Hooded sweatshirt, yoga pants, running shoes. Then I looked at her. “Excuse me?”

  She pointed right at my chest. “That. We don’t like to see that in here.”

  I looked down again. My red hooded sweatshirt had “MOOSE RIVER DAYS” written across the front of it. I’d gotten it maybe three years earlier, during the annual Moose River street fair.

  “But you look like you might not be a regular so I’m willing to let it go,” she said. “For today.”

  A regular? Wouldn’t she know most of the parents of her cheer team? “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I told her. “I’m just picking up my friend’s daughter.”

  She nodded, like she’d expected that. “Like I said. Not a regular, so you aren’t familiar with the rules. Given that Moose River is our rival, I don’t like to see anything with their name on it.”

  “Aren’t we in Moose River?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question – I knew without a doubt that the gym in the industrial buildings south of downtown was well within the city limits.

  “Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. They have Moose River in their name. We don’t. So anything with Moose River on it gets me agitated. That’s why most of our girls are from the surrounding cities.”

  “Um, okay.”

  She jutted her hand out. “Greta Mathisen. Head coach of the Cheerlicious Cheetahs.”

  “Daisy Savage,” I said, shaking her hand. Her fingers were surprisingly cold. “I’m picking up Maddie Witt.”

  She pumped my hand up and down a couple times before she finally let go. “Ah, okay. Well, we’ll definitely let it go today, then. Maddie is one of our best athletes.”

  “That’s...good to hear.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, you’ll probably have a lot of sad friends there in Moose River in a couple days.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  Coach Mathisen made a sound that sounded a little like a cackle. “Because they’re going to lose. Big time.”

  I saw Maddie pulling on her sweats on the other side of the gym and chatting with another girl. I thought about her siblings, stationed at toilets throughout the house. She didn’t look sick at all.

  I glanced back at the coach. “Who’s going to lose what?”

  She frowned at me like she couldn’t believe I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Are you serious?”

  “Not always, but in this case, yes. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The frown stayed on her face. “The Northern Suburbs Cheer-Off?”

  I stared blankly at her.

  Her eyes rolled. “It’s only the biggest annual cheer competition in the northern Twin Cities suburbs. It’s the big regional tournament.”

  “Oh.”

  “I take it you don’t have any kids.”

  “I have four.” She stared at me incredulously and I added, “But none of them do cheer.”

  She shook her head and the look on her face was so sad, I felt a momentary twinge that my kids might actually be missing out on something because they’d never gotten involved in cheer. But then I came back to my senses. We were talking about cheerleading, not the Peace Corps.

  “I see,” she said. “A shame. Well, anyway. Your Moose River friends will probably be crying in their oatmeal after we trounce the pants off of them.”

  I didn’t think we knew anyone who was part of the Moose River Fusion cheer team, but I wasn’t sure that would matter to her. She was acting like everyone should have been familiar with all of the cheer competitions in the area because they were the most important things on the planet. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t really see the point of cheerleading, and that I’d encouraged my girls to participate in sports and activities rather than stand on the sidelines and cheer for others.

  “Well, that sounds great for you,” I said, trying to fake a little sincerity.

  “Yeah, yeah, it will be,” she said. “Moose River Fusion has dominated the NSCO for years. But we’ve got their number this year.” Her mouth flared into a wide grin. “And they’re experiencing a little bit of trouble this year.”

  I thought back to my dinner conversation with Brenda. “You mean their missing captain?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you are familiar with all of this?” She glanced at my purse. “I hope you aren’t here to spy.”

  What did she think I had hidden in there? A microphone? A video recorder? A bomb to decimate her gym?

  “I told you,” I said. “I’m here to pick up my friend’s daughter. But I’m aware that Amanda Pendleton’s missing. She’s in a play with my daughters and I heard she was also involved in cheerleading.”

  Her face soured and she looked like she wanted to spit. “Amanda Pendleton isn’t just involved in cheerleading, alright? She’s probably one of the best cheerleaders in the state of Minnesota. Powerful. Fast. Can tumble like nobody’s business.” She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. “And she got her start with me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, you better believe it is,” she answered, mistaking my question for some sort of challenge. “Before she trained with me, she didn’t know a cartwheel from a cart of apples. But I got her straightened out. I got her on the right track. I turned her into a cheerleader.” She paused. “She owes me a lot.”

  Maddie was finally walking across the gym toward us and I tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m sure she’s grateful.”

  Coach Mathisen snorted again. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But, no. She showed her gratitude by jumping ship. This is karma.” She leaned in closer to me. “Karma, I tell you. They stole her from me, she fell for it, and now they’re all dealing with karma. And we’re gonna kick their butts.”

  I stood up. “I’m not sure a missing girl is karma. I think there are plenty of people worried about her.”

  She cleared her throat. “Oh, right. Right. I’m sure they are. I mean, yes. I hope they find her. I don’t mean that I don’t want them to find her. I just mean...I just mean we are going to kick their tail feathers, and this is what they get for stealing Amanda from me.”

  I didn’t really understand what she was getting it and I was really put off by her entire attitude. Being competitive was one thing, but reveling in someone else’s misfortune was something else entirely and I thought it was kind of gross. Her glee over Amanda’s disappearance was pretty apparent because she thought it gave her team a distinct advantage. I hoped she was wrong.

  “Well, I hope she’s found soon,” I said smiling at her. “I think it would be terrific if she was back before your competition.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was about to let me know exactly how she felt about that. But then something flashed through her eyes and it was gone.

  “Sure,” she said flatly. “That would be terrific. But I doubt it’ll happen.”

  I looked at her. “You don’t think she’ll be found?”

  Her face flushed pink. “No. No. I just meant that...I don’t think she’ll be back before the competition. And even if she is, she might not be up to competing.” She looked hurriedly at her watch. “I need to go. Nice meeting you, Moose River.”

  She jogged off across the gym floor before I could respond.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Mom!” Grace yelled. “I can’t find any underwear!”

  Twice a month, my three kids went to their father’s house to spend the weekend with him. It was always a weird feeling for me. I was glad they were able to spend some time with their dad, but I didn’t like them being gone. And given that Sophie’s mom lived out of state, it put her in this weird purgatory of being the only kid in the house. This particular weekend, though, she’d been invited to spend the night at a friend’s house, so Jake and I wer
e actually going to have an entire evening and morning to ourselves.

  Which meant we needed to find underwear.

  “Check your drawer!” I yelled back. “I just put the laundry away!”

  Five seconds later, she yelled, “Found it!”

  Of course she did.

  Every two weeks, we went through the same drill. The kids would wait until the last second to pack and then struggle to find what they needed. I sometimes lost my patience, but I also tried to empathize with them. It was disconcerting to all of them that they had to pack a bag to go to their dad’s. They felt more like visitors than family when they went there, and it led to a certain disconnect that each of them struggled with in different ways.

  “Can I borrow your charger?” Emily asked, setting her backpack on the kitchen table. “I left mine in my locker.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I can use Jake’s,” I said. “It’s in the kitchen.”

  She went and grabbed it and zipped it up into the top pocket of her bag. “Thanks. Not exactly sure what I’d do if my phone died over there.”

  “Maybe engage a little?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m going to spend the next two days in my room, doing homework and texting my friends. There’s nothing else to do.”

  “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

  “We do the same thing every time we’re there,” she told me. She blew a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Eat dinner out. Play some game. Watch some movie. Eat out again. And then something will happen and everyone will get in some big argument.” She shook her head. “It’s a waste of time.”

  Emily, in particular, had struggled with the arrangement. She was at the point where she was looking to spend time with her friends on the weekend, but her dad wanted to see her, too. She felt caught in the middle. It didn’t help that she didn’t get along great with Thornton’s new wife, either.