Dead Weight

by Ragan, T. R.

  “I could use a mound of greasy fries about now.”

  His smile was filled with understanding. His clients were always so eager to get started in the beginning, but within twenty-four hours they were usually ready to throw in the towel. It had only taken Vivian fifteen minutes.

  He pointed to a shelf filled with books from every genre. He then gestured toward the pile of pamphlets stacked on the bedside table. “Instead of television, I suggest reading.”

  “So this is it? This is the place where it all happens?”

  He nodded, feeling proud.

  “This isn’t what I signed up for. I want out.”

  “This is exactly what you signed up for.” And in three months, maybe four, she would be thanking him.

  In the end, they always did.

  Chapter 11

  Going Green

  August, 2010

  For the most part, Hayley and Jessica worked opposite days, so there was always someone in the office to help Lizzy. Today, though, Lizzy had asked them to come at the same time so they could have an office meeting.

  “Thanks for coming,” Lizzy said. “I know you both like to switch days so you’re not too crowded, but I have a lot of work right now and I thought it would be good if we went over our schedules. Until you start school, Jessica, I would appreciate it if you could work eight hours a day.”

  “That’s fine,” Jessica said.

  “Great. Thanks.” She looked at Hayley. “Since you’re taking a few summer classes, I was hoping you could come in whenever you’re not too busy.”

  Hayley gave her the thumbs-up.

  “Okay, then,” Lizzy continued, “Jessica, what’s on your to-do list?”

  Jessica’s hair was braided, one long braid hanging over each shoulder, making her look fifteen instead of twenty-one.

  “I’ve been working on condensing our files,” Jessica told her. “You know, like scanning important documents in hopes that we can go green by the end of the year.”

  “Go green?” Lizzy asked. “Whose idea was this?”

  “Mine,” Jessica said. “Don’t worry, I’m not putting the hours I spend on going green on my time sheet.”

  “The carpets could use a good cleaning,” Lizzy said as she glanced at the floor.

  “I’m not a maid.”

  Lizzy smiled, figuring it had been worth a shot.

  “As I was saying,” Jessica continued, “any duplicate or unnecessary papers should be shredded. When you have more time I would like to talk to you about making this office environmentally friendly: using recycled paper, staple-less staples, printing on both sides, that sort of thing. We need to start refilling our pens instead of sending them to the landfills. It’s getting out of hand around here.”

  “What’s a staple-less staple?” Hayley wanted to know.

  Jessica’s eyes brightened. “It’s a stapler that cuts tiny flaps in the paper and then bends and weaves the flaps together so that the papers stay secure.”

  Hayley looked as if she was sorry she asked.

  Jessica waved passionate hands toward the ceiling. “All these bulbs need to be replaced with CFLs. The list is endless.”

  “Great,” Lizzy said, “now what about work that actually might bring in some income?”

  “I did get one of the three workers’ compensation cases dealing with fraud off of my desk,” Jessica said. “I wrote a report and dropped off the pictures of H.D. Palmer at the attorney’s office. I still need pictures of Jim Thatcher and Eric Farrell so I can finish up those reports and deliver them to the prosecuting attorney. We’re getting close to deadline.”

  Lizzy and Jessica looked at Hayley since she was their unofficial photographer. Lizzy hadn’t had a chance to talk to Hayley about wandering the streets of Sacramento in the middle of the night, but that would have to wait until they were alone. Hayley had definitely been quiet lately. Her eyes, shadowed with exhaustion, were cast downward. “Any luck with Thatcher or Farrell?”

  Hayley wore cutoffs and a T-shirt. She was leaning on the desk that she and Jessica shared. Her right knee was bruised. Lifting her gaze, she crossed her arms and said, “Farrell has been a no-show at his weekly bowling league for the past two weeks. Weeds are overtaking his front lawn, which tells me he’s not mowing it, which means he might actually be legit. Thatcher, on the other hand, is a clever dude. I don’t think he’s hurt at all.”

  “Is he still using crutches?” Lizzy asked.

  “Yes, and no,” Hayley said. “I waited for him at the school after Jessica discovered he played basketball with his buddies after church on Sundays. Sure enough he pulls up in his bright orange Hummer right on time, and then proceeds to make a big show of hopping on one leg to get his crutches from the backseat of his car. After he disappeared inside the gym, I waited about ten minutes before I went inside and pretended to look for someone. Not only was Thatcher playing basketball, he was dunking the ball. That’s not easy to do. Not too many guys half his age can touch rim, let alone dunk. It was impressive.”

  “Did you get pictures?” Jessica asked.

  “Are you kidding? I had six gigantic men staring me down before I got halfway across the court. They weren’t happy about me being there and one guy looked like he was going to drag me out by my hair. I had to think fast so I made up a story about my little brother running off. I told them he was only ten and that my mom was at home getting ready to call the cops. They didn’t trust me any more than I trusted them. The mean guy started asking questions like where I lived, things like that. That’s when I broke down and cried.”

  Jessica looked from Lizzy to Hayley. “You cried in front of five big men?”

  “Six. There were six big men. And yes, I cried because I didn’t have an answer to his question and nothing scares a man like a crying female. They backed off real quick and I just ran from the gym as if I couldn’t handle the thought of losing my little brother.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I told you never to approach the people we’re watching.”

  “I’m eighteen now. You’re not going to get in trouble for my actions.”

  “That’s not the point,” Lizzy said. “You could get hurt. Using a zoom lens from afar and taking a picture is one thing, but putting yourself in danger like that is something else altogether.”

  “I’ve handled worse.”

  “I don’t care. Please don’t do that again. If you can’t get the picture from the safety of your car, then leave it be. We’ll find another way.”

  “Okay, will do,” Hayley said, using her four-fingered hand to salute.

  “Jessica, I think you need to put Project Going Green on the back burner for now. Today, I need you to go to High Street Bank in Auburn and talk to Ellen Woodson. She was Carol Fullerton’s best friend at the time of Carol’s disappearance. I called Ellen at her home. She picked up, but refused to talk to me about Carol.”

  Jessica picked up pen and paper. “What do you need to know?”

  “Anything and everything Ellen knows about where her friend Carol was going the day she disappeared. We need to know if Ellen has any idea of what Carol was going through at the time of her disappearance. Why did Carol leave school, go to the store for snacks, and then drive for hours on I-5 before her car broke down? Where was she going and why? According to Carol’s mother, who has the school records to prove it, Carol was an above average student. She got along well with her mother, she kept her room clean, and she followed her parent’s rules without complaint. Carol was known as a friendly person at school and everybody seemed to like her. But Ellen was the one person whom Carol chose to hang with twenty-four-seven. At this point, Ellen is all we have. Over twenty years ago Ellen was too distressed to talk about her friend’s disappearance. Two decades later and she still won’t talk. Ellen Woodson knows something.”

  “Didn’t you tell me the other day that Carol’s car broke down not too far from a national park?”

  Lizzy nodded. “Mendocino National Forest.”

/>   “Maybe Carol walked there hoping to find help and then met up with a bad crowd.”

  “Detective Roth said they did a thorough search of the area and her body was never found. But two separate witnesses at the time stated that they saw a young woman stranded on the side of the highway who matched Carol Fullerton’s description. One of the witnesses didn’t have time to stop, but he called it in as soon as he reached his destination, letting the police know there was a young girl stranded on I-5. Another witness went to the bother of finding a turnaround to see if he could go back and help, but by the time he got back to her car, she was gone. Fifteen minutes later, he says he passed a Buick and swore that the same girl he’d seen on the side of the road was sitting in the passenger seat. The witness, Mr. Theodore Johnson, has a prior record after assaulting a woman he had been dating. Johnson ended up being their number one suspect. To this day he swears he’s innocent.”

  “What about the car Johnson saw her in?”

  “Bingo,” Lizzy said, pointing a finger at Hayley. “I don’t think the police ever took Johnson seriously.”

  “Why would the guy call the police if he was guilty?” Jessica asked.

  “Exactly. That’s why I want you and Hayley to make some calls and use your computer expertise to see what you can find out about the car Mr. Johnson saw that day. We have a make and model and the first three digits from the license plate. It’s all in the file.”

  Lizzy used both hands, palms flat on her desk to push herself to her feet before gingerly making her way to the closet that served as the file room. After only two days of exercising, her body felt as if it had been hit by a Mack truck.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jessica asked when Lizzy returned with the Fullerton file clutched to her chest.

  “Remember that Melbourne guy with the amazing abs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s my new trainer.”

  Jessica laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish I was.” Lizzy handed the file to Hayley and then bent over and attempted to touch her toes and stretch out sore limbs. It was no use. She couldn’t even reach her ankles.

  Clearly, Melbourne would be the death of her.

  Chapter 12

  The Helping Hand

  Stockton Boulevard used to be a major road that extended through South Sacramento from downtown and was once used during the gold-mining era to travel to Stockton and also to various farming areas. Highway 99 replaced much of the boulevard in the sixties. Businesses were forced to close down and the area quickly deteriorated. Helicopters still circled the area at night and shootings were common, but with new buildings popping up, the boulevard was slowly being revitalized.

  Directly off the boulevard was the special needs school, The Helping Hand, where Diane Kramer had worked for years before she disappeared. The school building and surrounding grounds were not a pretty sight.

  Lizzy exited her car and followed the yellow brick road. Literally. Someone had filled missing sections of the cracked cement walkway with pieces of canary-yellow bricks. The fence around the property looked like a patchwork quilt made of chain-link, metal bars, and wood slats. A broken window had been duct-taped together. The only color besides the yellow brick pathway was gigantic neon nonsensical scribbling spray-painted across the front entrance by vandals.

  Lizzy didn’t get to South Sacramento often, but when she did, she tended to keep both eyes wide open.

  Inside the school building, sitting at the front desk, was a woman with long shiny black hair. Her center part was a cleanly shaved three inch wide strip down the middle of her head like a newly paved street slicing through black tar. The thick frames of her dark-rimmed eyeglasses matched the color of her hair. Her lipstick, on the other hand, was blood red. There were so many shocking elements to the girl that Lizzy didn’t know where to look or where not to look. She didn’t want to be rude and stare, so she shuffled through her purse instead until she found her notepad. “I have an appointment with Lori Mulcher.”

  “Th-that would be m-me,” the girl said. Her lip twitched and then her left eye did too, but she didn’t come to her feet or make any kind of gesture that would prompt Lizzy to head to a meeting room or a quiet place where they could talk.

  Lizzy held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lori. My name is Lizzy Gardner. I have some questions I’d like to ask you about Diane Kramer.”

  The girl’s right shoulder jolted upward and Lizzy had to stop herself from jumping back. Clearly, Lori had a severe tic. The young woman began to grimace. Both of her eyes twitched. She made a yelping sound right before she stood. Her hand flung out and smacked Lizzy in the chin and nose.

  An elderly woman sitting at the desk behind Lori Mulcher gestured for Lizzy to take a seat in one of three plastic chairs by the entrance.

  Lizzy took a seat, and then found a tissue in her backpack and used it to dab her nose. It was bleeding. Damn. She packed her nose with tissue and bent her head back to stop the bleeding. She pretended to admire the popcorn ceiling, which was clearly a health hazard.

  Lizzy knew she only needed to be patient with Lori. She’d had a friend in high school with Tourette syndrome who had the occasional flailing limb and a mild facial tic. Lizzy always defended her friend, making sure the girl knew she could relax around her.

  It wasn’t long before Lori collected herself and led Lizzy to a private office. Lori didn’t talk about the bloody nose; there was no reason to, and they both left the incident in the past where it belonged.

  “Are you working with the police?” Lori asked, her stutter hardly noticeable.

  Lizzy waited for Lori to sit before she filled the lone chair in front of the severely scarred wooden desk. “No,” Lizzy said in answer to her question. “Diane’s sister hired me to look into the matter. I was told that you and Diane were close. Is that true?”

  Lori shrugged. “We saw each other every day, if that counts for something.”

  “Did you two ever go to dinner or lunch together?”

  “Are you asking me if we’re lesbians?”

  “No,” Lizzy said, although the girl now had her wondering just that. “Andrea, Diane’s sister, told me that you and Diane were best friends. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Clearly, Lori Mulcher was not happy answering questions about Diane, which struck Lizzy as odd. “I don’t mean to be rude,” Lizzy said, “but I was under the impression that you and Diane were close friends. If that’s true, then I would think you would want to help me and her sister find her.”

  “If Diane was my friend, don’t you think she would have called me by n-now?”

  So that was it. Lori was angry with Diane for running off. “That’s true, Lori, but this is exactly why Andrea is worried about her sister. I know Diane was depressed, but why would she leave her good friend and a job she loved?”

  “Who told you sh-she was depressed?”

  “That’s the story going around, you know, because of her weight.”

  Lori waved a hand through the air as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She grimaced, too, and Lizzy readied herself for an episode, but nothing happened.

  “She didn’t care about her weight,” Lori said, “not until she joined that stupid online support group.”

  For some reason Lori Mulcher thought Diane had abandoned her and she was pissed off. “What support group are you talking about?”

  “I never thought Diane would leave like this. She really cared for these kids. They need her. I need her.”

  Lori shook her head and when she stopped her monstrous silver hoop earrings kept going. She still hadn’t answered Lizzy’s question.

  “At least a half dozen students,” Lori said, “stop by the office every single day to see when she’s coming back.”

  “Was this Diane’s office?”

  Lori nodded. “Still is.”

  “Mind if I have a look at her computer?”

  “Go ahead; everyone else h
as.” Lori stood and headed for the door. “It’s up and running. Ten minutes is all I can give you though.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And one m-more thing—”

  Lizzy looked her way. “What’s that?”

  “Sorry about the nose.”

  Lizzy smiled. “Not a problem.”

  The second Lori left the room, Lizzy began to search through the files on Diane’s computer. She would love to take the computer with her but it was obviously school property. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Oyen Digital 1TB portable hard drive, described by customer reviews as “fast, reliable, and sexy,” and plugged in the USB cable. The software came loaded on the mini hard drive so it could operate automatically, saving the files to the drive while she looked around.

  Her ten minutes were up and the lady sitting behind Lori’s desk looked through the open door at her.

  Lizzy waved. “Almost done.”

  The woman stood and reached into her drawer, pulling out a bag lunch. She came to the door. “My name’s Arlene Ruiz, but most people call me Lena. I overheard part of your conversation with Lori and I think you should know that Diane was definitely obsessed with losing weight. Like most of us, the harder she tried to lose weight, the more she gained. I tried to help her, even got my friend who owns a gym downtown to allow Diane free access. She would go for a week or two and then that would be it until next time.” Lena Ruiz shook her head and said, “Poor girl.”

  “Do you think Diane was depressed?”

  “Only when it came to her weight.”

  “If it was so important to her, why do you think she couldn’t control it?”

  “Beats me, but I can tell you this—” Lena looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, “—her sister didn’t help matters much.”