When her phone rang, it jarred her out of her musings. She checked the screen: Mom. Sighing, she answered the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How are you doing?”
“Doing okay, Mom. Keeping busy. How about you guys?” She drummed her fingers on the table as she talked, hoping this wouldn’t take too long. She had to force herself not to leaf through the papers as she talked.
“Oh, fine,” her mother said. “We’re keeping an eye on that storm that’s in the gulf. It doesn’t look like it’s going to come our way, though, so that’s good.”
Lacey vaguely remembered seeing something about a tropical depression in the Gulf of Mexico, but had been too distracted by her own thoughts to delve into it. Now she felt guilty; if her parents had been threatened by a hurricane, she should be aware of it.
“Yeah, that’s very good,” she said. “I’m sure you guys have emergency kits in the car and an escape route plotted out, just in case.” At least she hoped that was true.
“Oh, yes, we do. But we don’t expect any problems. How’s work?”
“It’s fine,” Lacey said, glossing over as usual. How much could she say about her security job? Then she remembered that conversation with Sam about his parents not wanting to know about his strange talent. She thought that was sad. Now here she was, latching onto an experience that energized her, that engaged all her senses, and she was loathe to mention it. Pulling in a deep breath, she decided to take the plunge.
“I, uh, I’ve been doing some investigative work,” she began.
“Oh?” Her mother’s voice lilted in surprise. “With the police?”
“No, private. I’m investigating the death of a man in San Clemente. He was supposed to have died in a boating accident, but I have reason to believe he was actually murdered.”
“Oh, my,” her mother said. “That sounds intriguing. Why do you think that?”
Lacey realized she wasn’t ready to go into all the leads and clues. It was just too much for a short phone call. “It’s hard to sum up easily,” she said. “There are a lot of loose ends yet, and we’re still putting it together.”
“We?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, imagining her mother’s interest. “I’m working with a man. His name is Sam.” She decided to leave off his last name or his heritage; more than she wanted to get into right now.
“How did you meet him?” her mother asked.
“You remember that Fairfax Stalker case, years ago? All those young girls that disappeared?”
“Yes. That was so terrible.”
“Yes, it was. Well, we met working on that. We, uh, found we worked well together, so we took on this new case.” She decided to go for broke. “I’m thinking pretty seriously of starting my own private investigation business. I’ve got the experience hours, the training, the firearms qualification, so it’ll just be a matter of taking the test and getting my license.”
There was a slight hesitation. “Do you think that’s wise?” her mother asked gently. “Is that really something you can make a living at?”
Lacey reined in a sigh. “I think I can, Mom. At least I think it’s worth checking into. It’s what I really enjoy. I’d forgotten how much I missed this kind of work.”
“Oh. Well. So you’re just checking into it right now?”
“Yeah. I’ll see how it goes.”
“All right. Well, good luck. I’m sure you won’t do anything hasty. And this Sam… what’s he like?”
“He’s a nice guy,” Lacey said, knowing her mom would love that. “He’s older than me, late thirties.”
“Single?”
Lacey laughed. “Yes. Divorced, actually, and he has two kids. But we’re just friends.”
“Oh.” Disappointment. “Well, your father and I…”
Lacey got through the rest of the phone call with minimal effort. She could tell she had derailed her mother’s usual direction, so the balance of the conversation was a bit stilted, but at least she had put her true feelings out there. By the time her mom rang off, she was ready to plunge back into her investigative efforts.
Again she wrestled with the possibilities. No one saw Doug after Wednesday evening. Was that because he was dead, or just because no one saw him? The boat had been under power as well as under sail. Was that because they were trying to avoid the rocks? Or was there another reason? Then there was that text to Dina on Friday…
Goaded into action by an irresistible hunch, Lacey picked up her phone and texted Dina.
I have one more question. Call me.
Rather than sit and drum her fingers on the table as she waited, she went through the police reports again, underlining events she thought were pertinent. Don’t think too much, she told herself sarcastically.
She jumped when her phone rang. Grabbing it, she saw Dina’s name.
“Hi.”
“Hi. What question? I hope this is the last one.”
“I do, too,” Lacey said with a sigh. “About that text he sent on Friday. You said it was unusual. How so?”
“I said it was unusual for him to not get back to me sooner. He could almost always respond within an hour or two. He didn’t text me until the middle of the day on Friday. Wait. Let me find it.”
Lacey waited, imagining Dina tapping through her messages. “Twelve-forty. Usually he’d text me by eight or nine, as soon as he got to work.”
“Did you know he didn’t go to work either Thursday or Friday?”
A telling silence. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“Was there anything else unusual about that text?”
“Not really. We kept them brief and… nonspecific. Just in case, you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Lacey said. Both had to guard against curious spouses checking messages. Speaking of spouses…
“Did he often use that word, toodles?”
“No. I don’t remember him ever using it before.”
Lacey sat up in her chair. “He never used it? In any of his other texts?”
“I don’t think so. Let me look.” Silence, although Lacey could hear Dina breathing. “No, never.”
“Did you know that was the name of their boat?” Lacey asked, her mind buzzing.
“Yeah, I knew that. Marci’s idea.”
“All right. Thanks very much. I hope this will be the end of it.”
“Me, too.”
Lacey felt like her scalp was tingling. She tapped into her phone’s camera and swiped to the picture of the boat.
Toodles.
Another hunch. She called Pete Donvan again.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Pete? This is Lacey Fitzpatrick. I spoke to you earlier today about Doug Addison.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering about the name of their boat: Toodles. Do you know what it means?”
Pete barked a laugh. “That was all Marci. It was how she said goodbye. She thought it was cute to have that on the back of the boat, as if the boat was saying that as it pulled away. Doug hated it.”
“Why?”
“He thought it was stupid. Childish.”
Lacey plunged. “Marci uses that word a lot.”
“Yes, she does. It drove Doug up a wall.”
“Did he ever use that word?”
Pete snorted. “No. Not just no, but hell no.”
She plunged again. “Did you know he was cheating on her?”
Silence. That’s a yes, she thought.
“Yeah. I knew.”
She pushed further. “Did you know they fought a lot?”
A heavy sigh. “Yeah.”
“Did you ever think the boat accident might not have been an accident?”
“I, uh, I don’t know. No, I wouldn’t think that. It could just as easily have been her to drown instead of him.”
Except he was never there, Lacey thought.
“Okay, Pete, thanks. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He keyed off.
&nb
sp; Lacey tossed down her phone with giddy excitement. She had her timeline now. She knew—knew—that Doug died that Wednesday night. That Marci got rid of the body somehow, probably on Thursday after she called into his work. That it was Marci, not Doug, who texted Dina on Friday. And Doug never went to Catalina that weekend. Marci rammed the boat onto the rocks under full power to sink it intentionally, to set the stage for Doug’s disappearance. Of course the body was never found. It was never there at all.
Lacey pounded on the table with unrestrained excitement. “Woo hoo!” she yelled to the empty room. “Don’t look now, Marci, but I’ve got you!”
~~~
TWELVE
What do you mean, I’m like a dog with a bone, she thought crankily the next morning as she waited for her coffee. I let go of it—finally. I slept—for maybe three hours.
She stared in the mirror on the wall, but then looked pointedly away from the dark rings under her eyes. Okay, maybe two hours. Who’s counting?
But the lack of sleep wasn’t going to put her off her work today. She still had some holes to fill in on her timeline. She still needed concrete evidence.
She poured the coffee and took it over to the table covered with papers and notes. With a fresh start—as fresh as two hours of sleep could get her—she’d crack this thing.
What was really chapping her ass was trying to figure out how Marci had gotten rid of the body. What would she have done? Chopped it up into pieces? Burned it? Buried it? She certainly wouldn’t have pitched it overboard from the boat. Any way that it might be discovered would destroy her story. A man doesn’t get multiple stab wounds from rocks.
No, she had to transport the body away—somewhere. The house had no fireplace. Incinerators had been outlawed decades ago. The small yards and close proximity of houses in the San Clemente neighborhood would make burial there a risk.
She took him away. But where? And how? She had to haul the body to her car. The attached garage meant she could do that without witnesses. No matter how awkward and disrespectful the process had been, no one would have seen her struggling with the ungainly burden.
Idly Lacey wondered if Marci might still have the same car now. It had only been three years. The grieving widow would have surely sold one of their two cars, and it would seem normal to keep the car she was used to. If she still had it, might it still retain a few small blood stains?
Blood stains.
Lacey sat up so abruptly she almost spilled her coffee. She remembered Sam, his hands outstretched, just inches from the walls of the hall.
Blood—all down the hall.
Blood—on the floor of the back room by the closet.
Did the Weisses put new carpet in that room? No, there was no reason. It was brand new.
Brand new, and over top of blood stains.
This was it. This was her break.
She checked her watch. Only 8:20. The gun shop wouldn’t open until ten. Just for kicks, she dialed the number anyway.
“’Lo?” The familiar gravelly voice.
“Freddie? It’s Lacey. How the hell are you?”
“Lacey? That cute little freckle-faced cop? Why, I haven’t seen you since forever. Where you been?”
Lacey could see him in her mind, the big, bearded mountain man of a shop owner. Many gun shops took unregistered—illegal—guns for pawn or trade, but Freddie was one of the few who did background checks on everyone and never took an unregistered gun. He was the only weapons man she trusted.
“Well,” she sighed, “you do remember that I resigned from the force? After that fiasco with Derrick?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember. That was a kick in the ass, wasn’t it? How you been doing?”
“I’m okay,” she said, realizing it was actually true. “I’m doing some P.I. work now. I need something from your secret stash.”
“Uh oh,” he said. “You’re not ratting me out, are you?”
Lacey chuckled. “I would never. No, I need a Bluestar forensic kit. You still carry those?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Lace. Those are only for professionals, you know. I’m not sure I can sell one to a lowly gumshoe.”
Lacey snorted. “I’ve never known you to turn down honest money. I don’t think you’re going to start now.”
Freddie laughed out loud. “I guess you’re right about that. Yeah, I got ‘em. Come on down and I’ll fix you up.”
“Great. I’ll let you open up, but I’ll be there right after ten. Thanks, Freddie. I owe you one.”
“And I won’t let you forget that, either,” he said with an evil laugh.
Lacey chuckled as she keyed off the phone. Now she was rolling. Involuntarily a song popped into her head.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…
That day had entirely too many hours in it. She waited impatiently until she could head over to Freddie’s gun shop, then tried valiantly to cool her jets until at least noon before calling Janet. The final piece of the plan was Sam, and she was loathe to interrupt his time with his kids. She gave him until three, thinking it wouldn’t be too long before he had to get the kids back home.
When she finally called, the phone was answered abruptly by a familiar high voice and lots of giggling.
“Hello?”
“Daniel?”
“Yeah.” More giggles.
“This is Lacey. What are you guys doing?”
“Playing a game.” She could hear Sam squawking in the background.
“What game?”
“Clue.”
“Ah. Good game. Hey, can I talk to your dad?”
“’Kay.” She heard the phone being fumbled about. Daniel’s giggle receded, and Sam came on.
“Yeah.”
“Sam, it’s Lacey. Listen, I don’t want to interrupt the game, but I’m wondering if you might be able to help me out this evening.”
“What do you need?”
She sucked in a breath. “I want to go back to San Clemente and look for traces of blood. I need solid evidence. I need something the police can grab onto, more than ghost stories and more than theories. I’ve already talked to Janet and she’s agreeable to our coming out this evening.” After the rush of words, she held her breath.
The silence reminded her of the early days with Sam, when he considered all she said slowly, giving her no indication of what he was thinking. She gripped the phone.
“Yeah, we could do that,” he said finally.
She breathed again.
“I have to have the kids home at five. We could go after that.”
“Perfect,” she said. “The stuff I’ll use to find the blood stains makes them glow in the dark, so the timing is perfect for that. Pick you up a little after five?”
“More like five-thirty,” he said. Then, “Unless you want to do the family run on the way? Pick us all up at four-thirty?”
“I can do that,” she said, happy to go earlier, happy to have him trust her with his kids. She had a feeling he didn’t do that with many people. “I’ll call Janet and let her know.”
“Okay, we’ll be ready.” He chuckled softly. “So I’ll get to see you do some of that CSI shit, huh?”
Lacey grinned. “You bet.”
True to his word, as soon as she parked next to the blue truck, the door to the apartment opened and the kids spilled out, Sam coming behind. The kids bounced into the back seat.
“Hi, Lacey,” Kenzie said.
“Hi, guys,” she responded. “Have a fun weekend?”
“Yeah. Look. Daddy fixed Roland.” Kenzie flopped the stuffed bear over the seat back so Lacey could see the mended seam on the foot. The sewing looked a bit heavy-handed but certainly adequate.
“Nice,” Lacey said as Sam settled in the seat next to her. “Your dad’s an all-around guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Kenzie pulled Roland into the back seat and both she and Daniel buckled their seat belts.
“All set?” Lacey asked. She peered into the rearview mirror and got answeri
ng nods from both kids. “Okey dokey.”
She pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street. “Who won Clue?” she asked.
“Daniel,” Kenzie said with disgust. “He always wins.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said with a satisfied smile.
“Not always,” Sam amended. “Just most of the time.”
Lacey got the distinct impression Daniel’s wins could be directly credited to Sam not trying too hard. Once Kenzie got better at it, the two kids would no doubt battle for supremacy in the Clue wars.
“Lacey, you could play with us sometime,” Kenzie said. “Four people can play.”
“Well, maybe I will,” Lacey said. She caught Kenzie’s eyes in the rearview mirror and smiled.
“I like your name,” Kenzie said. “It’s pretty.”
“Thank you,” Lacey said. “Your name is pretty, too.”
Daniel, she noticed, scowled out the window at all the girl talk.
“So, Daniel, you got your homework done for school tomorrow?” she asked lightly.
“Yeah.” He huffed out the reply.
Lacey traded sly smiles with Sam. “Yeah, I think we’re going to make sure we never have to do this summer school thing again, right?” As Sam spoke, he twisted around so Daniel got the full impact of his words.
“Yes, sir,” the boy grumbled.
When they reached the apartment building, Lacey parked in the guest space and Sam and the kids exited the car.
“Do you want to come see my room?” Kenzie asked Lacey.
“Um, maybe another time, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, Lacey.”
Sam nudged Daniel. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She waved as they walked down the path and disappeared around the corner.
Sam was back in just a few minutes. “Well, you certainly made an impression,” he said as Lacey backed the car.
“Oh?”
“Between having a pretty name and being like Magnum P.I., you’re about the best thing since sliced bread. I think I’m going to have some explaining to do to their mom.”
Lacey laughed. “Why to their mom?”
“I don’t make it a habit to introduce the kids to women. My ex is going to wonder why you’re suddenly in the picture.”
“But she’s remarried, right?” Lacey asked as she turned down the road.
Ghost Walk Page 12
