He dodged my question. “Eggs? Waffles? Pancakes? Bacon? Sausage?”
I never turn down food. At my direction, he sautéed onions, mushrooms, red bell peppers, and a little diced ham. He added the veggie mix to Eggbeaters, topped it with a slice of 2% American cheese, and slid the finished product onto my plate. All the while he was wearing a lavender apron trimmed with ruffles and white lace.
I spread Brummel & Brown butter-flavored yogurt spread on a piece of sourdough Melba toast and crunched my way to heaven. Sipping a yummy mix of low-fat hot chocolate and coffee added to my joy. Is life good or what?
“Did my suggestion about the colored pens help at all?” With my tummy full, I felt brave enough to ask a second time.
“See for yourself.” He took the chair opposite of me and then pushed a chart my way.
Quadruple wow. Robbie trusted me!
A rustling sound caught my attention. The noise came from the floor between us. I looked down to see the cat carrier.
“Martin!” I said with a jolt.
“Sheila already fed him. She was up early,” and again he didn’t meet my eyes. “I’d be happy to drop off Anya at the Science Center. It’s on my way to the station. One of us can pick her up at the end of the day unless you have an objection.”
“No, none at all. Thanks. That’s very kind of you.” Glancing at the charts, I could see that all of the women had three or four matching traits: kids, residences or workplaces within a ten-mile radius of downtown St. Louis, pet ownership, and body type. They were all very, very thin. I focused on their weight right away. Since I struggle constantly with being twenty pounds overweight, that probably said more about me than about the missing women.
“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about Sheila,” Robbie said.
“Uh-huh.” I was only half-listening.
“I know that the two of you haven’t always gotten along,” he said. “But I also know you’ve grown closer lately. I wanted to ask if you have any objection to us getting serious.”
Considering that I was sitting in my mother-in-law’s kitchen, eating her food, after spending the night under her roof, what could I say? It certainly wasn’t up to me to decide what sort of relationship Sheila had with Robbie Holmes.
“Why would I have an objection?” I asked.
“Because I’m not Jewish.”
“Neither am I.”
“Really?”
“I agreed to raise Anya as a Jew, but I never converted.”
“Ah.” He seemed relieved. “Are you working at Marla Lever’s house again today?”
“Not today. Tomorrow. I have to go to the store today.” I turned my attention back to the chart. “I suppose the part about being pet owners isn’t surprising. Given that 63% of all American households have a pet. More specifically 34% own cats and 60% own dogs.”
“How do you know that?”
“I did the research because I was offering a class on making pet albums.”
“You’re right,” said Robbie. “There isn’t much there to work with, but I’m thinking we can go back to their friends and family and see if within those categories there are more connections. Like if their kids all take gymnastics from the same place. Or they all used the same vet clinic. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”
Robbie held out his hand, and I gave him back the chart.
“Don’t worry your pretty head over this.” Robbie tucked the papers into his briefcase. “Sooner or later, we’ll find a common thread. Or the killer will get sloppy. How many bodies can you hide? And for how long? Unless this creep buried them in the rolling farmlands of Missouri, someone is bound to find a corpse somewhere.”
“Like in a freezer?”
“I know you don’t want to believe that Mrs. Lever killed her neighbor, but you’re familiar with Occam’s Razor, aren’t you? The law of parsimony?”
“Given two competing theories, the simplest is most likely the correct one?”
“That’s right.” He tugged off the apron and reached for his tie. Without the benefit of a mirror, he wrapped the silk length around his collar and knotted it expertly. The whole action, smooth and habitual, reminded me that he’d been solving crimes for most of his adult life. As he moved past me, a whiff of lime-scented after-shave came my way. Robbie Holmes typified the term “avuncular.” In his work he could be a real son-of-a-gun, but toward me he’d never been anything but kind.
“How did she get the woman into her freezer? It’s not like Marla Lever was a body-builder.”
“She rolled the body onto a blanket. She pulled the blanket along the floor and hoisted the body up to the freezer. Maybe she tied a rope around an overhead pipe and used leverage. How did the Egyptians build the pyramids?”
He had me there. “How did Mrs. Newcomber die?”
“Battered to death with a baseball bat. Probably chloroformed first. Maybe even tasered. We’re still waiting on the autopsy. Stan Hadcho has gotten her credit card records. He’s trying to piece together who saw her last and when that was. Unfortunately, it takes longer in real life than it does on TV.”
“You think Marla Lever was strong enough to beat someone to death with a baseball bat?”
Robbie smiled at me. “You really don’t know much about baseball, do you?”
44
Thursday morning…
“Where’s Trudy?” I asked as we gathered under Marla’s maple tree a little later.
“Just get dressed, okay?” Mert handed me a Tyvek uniform.
She’s usually upbeat, so I quietly suited up and didn’t say anything else. Johnny joined us, putting on his Tyvek suit, and not saying a word either. Mert’s son Roger joined us, but the expression on his face told me that he wasn’t in a good mood either. I decided to keep my distance from the Crabby Chambers Clan.
At Mert’s direction, I went upstairs to where Trudy had been working and started taking knickknacks off the crowded shelves in what had been Marla’s bedroom. They’d already been photographed. My job was wrapping them carefully in unprinted newspaper and packing them into a sturdy box. For more than an hour, I worked steadily. Something niggled at me, told me that I wasn’t paying attention. I chalked it up to the general tension in the air. Usually Mert alerted us when sixty minutes was up, but this morning I put in ninety minutes before she stopped me for our mandatory water break. Since her expression still forecast stormy weather, I held my tongue. I drank my water and returned to the second floor. After another ninety minutes of quiet, Mert popped her head into the bedroom. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” I waved my arm to show her the progress I’d made. All of the shelves were clean, except for a foot and a half at one end.
Marla’s cat figurines had been so numerous that she’d balanced them on top of each other. I’d managed to pack them up. Only one small pile remained.
“Sorry I was such a grump this morning.”
I shrugged. Mert knew my house had been vandalized. Didn’t I deserve a little TLC? At the very least, she could have greeted me by asking how I was. Instead, she’d been nasty to me.
Sure the pay for this nasty work was grand, but I’d rather be putting in my hours at Time in a Bottle. Especially since Dodie and I had come to an agreement that would pay me handsomely for profitable special events. As I packed up the world’s ugliest collection of china cats, my mind was free to roam. I’d thought up about a million totally cool ideas for scrapbook and papercrafting events. My fingers almost itched to get back to crafting.
“Come on, don’t be mad at me,” Mert said.
“I don’t like being fussed at; I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
“I deserve that. Sorry about what happened to your house. I’m worried that Devon or Allen decided to target you. On top of that, I don’t think we’ll get all this done by five. Especially since Trudy went AWOL.”
“She’s really missing?” I stopped what I was doing. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. I stopped by to p
ick her up this morning, and her mother said she went out last night and didn’t come back.”
“You are kidding.”
“No, and since I ain’t paid her yet, I’d have thought she would have gotten her skinny little butt in the pickup truck this morning bright and early.”
“I need to make a phone call.” I pushed my way past Mert.
“You leaving, too?”
“No,” I said hurriedly. “I’ll tell you later. Just trust me.”
But she didn’t. Not entirely. Coming right on my heels, Mert followed me down the stairs and out the front door where I could get phone reception.
Detweiler listened carefully as I explained about Trudy disappearing. “She has dark hair and she’s super thin, like all the other women who vanished.”
“Let me talk to Mert, please.”
I handed her the phone. None of her responses to his questions encouraged me. She volunteered Trudy’s last name, her address, and her phone number. There were a few other quick “yes” and “no” answers. When she finished and handed my cell phone back to me, the frown on her face had deepened.
“Do you really think…?” she paused.
“I don’t know. Let’s hope she had a hot date and spent the night. Maybe she lost track of time, and she’ll call you any minute and ask for a ride.”
“Somehow,” Mert said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
45
While I had been working upstairs, Roger had been mowing the grass. During a water break, Johnny told me that Roger had used a machete to hack down the overgrowth. “By the time he finished, he had a terrible sunburn and more chigger bites than I’ve ever seen.”
“He owed me,” grumped Mert. “I bought him a new pair of basketball shoes.”
“I’m not saying he shouldn’t have helped you. I’m just being sympathetic to my nephew. See, I’ve been working on my tender side,” said Johnny with a wink at me.
“Where is Roger?” I asked.
“A friend came and picked him up when he was done. Since he does lawn care around the neighborhood, this wasn’t such a big deal,” said Mert in a grouchy voice. “It’s not like I asked him to climb up the Sears Tower and wash the windows.”
“Except that he’d never seen grass as thick as this,” continued Johnny. “Or as strong and healthy, despite the fact we’ve had such a hot summer with so little rain.”
“Who cares,” Mert said and flounced off.
“She can snort and paw the ground all she wants,” said Johnny, “but Roger and I have big plans. We want to own a landscaping business together. He’s taking business classes. When I get done paying Sis back, I’m going to take horticultural classes at night.”
“Really? Good for you. Did you get a chance to go over and see Mr. Ernest’s place? Trudy had been pretty impressed with his plants.” I poured cold water on an old bandana and wrapped it around my neck.
“While you were upstairs, I went over to return his recycling bin. At first, he didn’t answer the doorbell. Then he opened his front door a crack. All I can tell you is he must have sunk a boatload of money into the plants over there. Got one of them miniature greenhouses, too. But he made it clear he wasn’t interested in making my acquaintance.”
When the break was over, Mert assigned me the job of wrapping up Anthony Lever’s toys.
I would have rather shoveled dog and cat poop all day long, because touching that little guy’s clothes and smelling his pungent sheets brought tears to my eyes. Any parent would recognize the smell of childish sweat. It’s that iconic. Marla had not only kept Anthony’s room as a shrine, she must have kept the door shut, because there was no evidence of cats. Only the funky scent of plastic toys, dust, and little boy.
His collection of trucks, cars, plastic tools, a miniature baseball bat, small Army action figures, and superheroes nearly put me over the edge. As I worked, my limbs grew heavier, as if I’d stepped into a blob of amber, and now it slowly congealed around me. Mingled with the natural sadness of this unnatural space was my fear that I’d never have another child. Silly as it sounds, I’d always wanted to have a little boy. Anya thrilled me. I adored my daughter, but I wanted to watch a boy child grow. Touching all these symbols of a boy’s inner life set my internal clock to ticking.
At a quarter till five, a car door slammed. The noise caused me to look up from the box I was packing. A familiar voice lured me away from my work. I peered out the window. Detweiler was leaning against his unmarked Impala, waiting for Mert to come over and talk with him.
Their hands moved in animated gestures. Mert pointed to my window and motioned for me to come down. A glance at my cell phone told me it was quitting time.
“Cute lunchbox,” said Detweiler as I joined him. Mert shook her head and walked away.
I held up the grinning Cheshire Cat that Anya had given me for Mother’s Day. “Thanks. A good reminder to smile. Are you going to tell me what’s happening with your cold case? With Trudy? Or am I a civilian again?”
“Let’s go sit in the shade. I think Johnny should know what’s happened, since he’s the only man on your team.”
Mert took her accustomed place under the maple tree. She didn’t look up as we approached. To my shock, she flicked a tear from her face, which surprised me because she rarely ever cries.
“Trudy is unofficially officially missing,” said Detweiler, after he shook hands with Johnny. They had a wary relationship. Johnny offered the cop a cornbread muffin, but Detweiler waved it away. I took two of them, because they were small.
“Mrs. Squires, Trudy’s mother, is understandably upset. It’s too early for her absence to be an official missing person case, but it doesn’t look good. Especially after Trudy’s cell phone was discovered in a parking lot outside a bar in Soulard.”
Soulard, the old French section of St. Louis, was a happening place, especially for singles. The cobblestone streets and old storefronts gave the neighborhood a fantastic old-world feel. But it’s location on the banks of the Mississippi also brought a shadowy feel to the area. I wouldn’t want to walk around there after dark. Not alone.
“Couldn’t she have taken off with a date?” asked Johnny. “Maybe she hasn’t gotten home.”
“Could be,” said Detweiler. “But your sister pointed out that Friday’s payday. Mrs. Squires says her daughter was looking forward to getting and cashing her check. At the very least, Trudy could have asked Mert for her money today if she didn’t intend to stay on the job.”
No one said anything for a long while. I helped myself to another piece of cornbread.
Detweiler continued, “My partner Stan Hadcho and I’ve been working on cold cases involving missing women. Trudy’s disappearance fits the pattern. The abductor seems to prefer dark haired, thin women, ages thirty to fifty.”
“That also describes Mrs. Newcomber,” I said. “The corpse found in the freezer.”
“Mr. Chambers,” Detweiler said, “I’m asking you to be particularly observant. It looks like this guy has targeted dark-haired women, but I think any woman in that age range is at risk. Please keep an eye on Kiki and your sister.”
“It don’t really matter,” said Mert, as she looked off in the distance. “This here’ll be our last day. We’re going to get fired. Ain’t no way we can get this done tomorrow like Ali Timmons wants us to.”
46
I was hanging up my Tyvek suit in Marla’s garage when Mert stopped me. “Toss that. Grab Trudy’s off that there hook and toss hers, too. If we still have a job, you can get a new one tomorrow.
Ali Timmons text-messaged to say she wanted to talk with me.”
“I wonder what about.”
“Whatever it is, it cain’t be good,” said Mert. “Dag-nab that Trudy. I’m worried sick about her. If I wasn’t so concerned, I’d be madder than a snake with a sunburned belly.”
Very carefully I carried both Tyvek suits to the Dumpster. However, that cup runneth over, so I took both suits over to a box of
black plastic garbage bags that Mert had opened. With my gloved hands, I wadded up my suit and shoved it into the void of a bag. I started to do the same with Trudy’s, but I felt a small rigid rectangle of resistance. Carefully teasing the suit flat, I discovered Fred’s business card. On the back was a handwritten phone number.
“You might want to see this.” I showed the card to Detweiler.
“Trudy made a trip by herself to Fred Ernest’s house day before yesterday to see if we could borrow one of his recycling bins. She was a real flirt. Trudy probably logged this number on the back into her iPhone. She’d just gotten that phone and was crazy about it.”
“Stan’s checking calls to and from her iPhone as we speak.”
I’d no more than handed the card to him when a black Nissan Ultima pulled up and parked in front of Marla’s house. Pamela Bertolli, the real estate agent I’d used when I sold my house, climbed out from behind the wheel. Catching sight of me, she waved and I waved back. Leaving Detweiler, I ran over to the car.
“Hey, Pamela. How are you?”
“Kiki, how lovely to see you.” Pamela made a move to hug me, but I waved her away. “You don’t want to touch me. I’m disgusting times two.”
“Oh, dear.” Pamela wore her hair swept to one side in the classic curves of the modern art museum in Bilbao, Spain. On anyone else, such a style would have seemed ridiculous, but Pamela pulled it off. Studying me, she said, “You’re not involved in this mess, are you?”
I explained that I was part of the cleanup crew. “I bet you’re here to help Mrs. Timmons determine whether she can put two houses on one lot?”
“No, sad to say, I’m here so Mrs. Timmons can sign paperwork to end our relationship. Unfortunately Mr. Timmons doesn’t want to work with me. I’ve been told he’s found a big name agent to deal with. However, he was happy enough to talk to me when he needed to know about what this lot might be worth.”
I just bet he was, that little weasel. How like him to use Pamela’s expertise early on, but then want to sign with a big name agent. Bait and switch, wasn’t it?
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 62
