The Body in the Wetlands

by Judi Lynn

  Gaff asked, “Did your boyfriend wait for Meghan in the parking lot and accost her for turning him down?”

  Before Tonya could answer, the door to the room banged open and a large man strode inside, slamming the door behind him. “Instead of picking on my girlfriend, why don’t you ask me what really happened with Saint Meghan?”

  Gaff studied him. “You must be Mack Leffers. You were the next person on my list to see.”

  Mack took the seat beside Tonya. He had longish, ash-blond hair and very dark eyes—almost black. He looked like a human version of a pit bull, ready for a fight. His lips curled back. “Do you always start with the easy targets and work your way up?”

  Gaff didn’t appear to react to Mack’s aggressive attitude. Jazzi gave him credit. Mack intimidated her. Flipping through a few pages of his notes, Gaff said, “I interviewed lots of nurses who knew Meghan, but I didn’t realize that Tonya might be the most important person I should question here. So I came back.”

  Mack’s heavy brows tugged into a scowl. “And why might she be the most important?”

  “Because she might be jealous of Meghan and resent her because Meghan was your first choice.”

  Tonya’s hands clenched more tightly together. She focused her eyes on a middle spot of the table, not connecting gazes with anyone.

  Gaff went on. “And I wanted to get a feel for what happened between you and Meghan, so that I could tell if you were lying to me or not.”

  Mack’s hands balled into fists. “I’ll be happy to tell you about Meghan. She was beautiful, and she knew it. She lived in her own little bubble and wouldn’t let anyone in. All she talked about, on and on, was some bartender she had a crush on. Everyone knew he didn’t give a crap about her. Never would. She was nice, just stupid. And a tease. She was all smiles and nos. I tried to explain that she should date other guys, give up on Mr. Perfect, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Was this a friendly conversation?” Gaff asked.

  “It started out friendly, got a little heated at the end. You couldn’t budge Meghan once she made up her mind about something.”

  Gaff stared at Mack. “You have a temper, don’t you? I looked you up. You were in a bar fight four months ago.”

  “Give me a break. The guy on the stool next to me got mad because I got my drink before he got his. I didn’t take the first swing, but I sure as hell took the last.”

  Gaff raised an eyebrow to Jazzi. “What do you think?”

  She locked gazes with Mack. “If Meghan had changed her mind and agreed to go out with you, would you have dumped Tonya?”

  He inhaled a deep breath. “That wouldn’t have happened.”

  That statement, in and of itself, was an answer. Jazzi turned to Tonya. “Did you hate Meghan because she could take Mack from you?”

  Tonya unclenched her hands and pressed her palms against the table. “Yes. I hated her. But I’m always the last person a man looks at. I’m used to that.”

  Jazzi wondered why she didn’t up her game then. She wondered what made Tonya tick. “How did you meet Mack?”

  “He was upset. I could tell. I asked him if he was all right and listened to him.”

  Mack reached for her hand and squeezed it. “She’s a great listener.”

  Gaff gave an understanding nod. “You became his shoulder to cry on.”

  Tonya blushed, embarrassed. “Something like that. I looked forward to seeing him whenever I could, whenever he brought a new admit to the hospital.”

  Jazzi heard the desperation in her voice. How much would she resent Meghan? Men tripped over themselves to vie for her attention, and all she cared about was Greg. Was Tonya desperate enough to kill Meghan to snag Mack? Was that possible?

  Gaff turned to Mack again. “Do you usually have luck with women?”

  Mack shrugged. “I do okay.”

  “But Meghan wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  “Meghan was delusional. She didn’t live in the real world.”

  “Did you know where she lived?”

  Mack frowned, clearly thrown off balance. “How could I? She never agreed to go out with me.”

  “What about you?” Gaff asked Tonya.

  She stared at him. “We weren’t friends. She never invited me to her place.”

  Gaff closed his notepad and stood. “Thanks to both of you for seeing us.”

  Mack and Tonya both looked a little surprised that the meeting was over. Mack took Tonya’s hand, and they stood, too. “Is that it? Are we done?” Mack asked.

  Gaff nodded. “If I have more questions, I’ll let you know.”

  They all exited the room, and Jazzi walked out of the hospital with Gaff to his car. On the drive back to Anthony Boulevard, she said, “Both of those two were interesting.”

  “When I get back to my office, I want to find where both of them were on the night Meghan died.”

  “Do you have a time frame now?” She knew when Leo died. He took Cocoa for a walk and never came back. The same as Miles. He left his parents’ house and disappeared. So he probably died that night, along with Meghan.

  “We have a little more to work with. Each inch leads us to a new clue. Hopefully, we’ll end up with the truth.”

  Murder was a lot more complicated than Jazzi realized. She couldn’t imagine the killings that were impersonal—the drive-by shootings she read about in the paper, gang and drug deaths. People’s lives didn’t mean anything to those killers. But the personal murders at least had motives she could understand, even if she couldn’t relate to them.

  When Gaff dropped her off and she let herself into the house on Anthony, she decided to take a lunch break before she started work on the second bathroom floor. If Jerod were there, he’d distract her, but the house was too quiet, and she kept turning suspects and motives over in her mind. She turned on music and pushed those thoughts away. By the time she left, both bathroom floors were done, and she was ready to drive home and have a quiet night.

  Chapter 33

  Jazzi walked around the house, restless. She wasn’t sure why, but Mack and Tonya bothered her more than most of the people Gaff put on his suspect list. Mack felt like he could blow at any moment. She felt sorry for Tonya. The girl pictured herself as a walking victim, like life had beaten her down somehow.

  She tried watching TV but kept losing interest. She picked up her book but couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she turned to a last resort. She set up a jigsaw puzzle she’d bought on the kitchen table and lost herself as she tried to put it together. When she glanced at the clock and it was ten, she was relieved. Time for bed.

  Ansel called before she drifted off to sleep. “Sorry it’s so late. We worked right through supper tonight. Got a lot done. Every part of my body is sore.”

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “I want to come home. I want this finished.”

  “I want you here.” She told him about Mack and Tonya.

  “It sounds like either one of them is a good candidate for Meghan’s murder.”

  She nodded, then realized Ansel couldn’t see her. “Gaff’s going to check out their whereabouts when it happened.”

  She heard a thunk, and he cussed. “This room is too small. I just hit my elbow on the chest of drawers. I feel like I’m sleeping in a closet.”

  “Are you?”

  He laughed. “Pretty much.”

  “Work hard, Norseman, and come home.”

  “I’m trying. I miss you, babe.”

  “Miss you, too.” They hung up, and Jazzi turned off the bedside light. As she drifted to sleep, she wondered which was worse—living with people you weren’t too fond of or being in a house by yourself, lonely. She couldn’t wait until Ansel came back.

  She was dreaming about shingling a roof that went on and on when her security system beeped a warn
ing through the house. She sat up in bed and tried to see in the dark. Had someone made it through their heavy doors? She reached for her cell phone and a baseball bat, then tiptoed to the top of the stairs. A huge butcher knife waited in the kitchen. Ansel had tried to talk her into buying a gun to keep in her nightstand, but guns scared her. Maybe she should reconsider that. She didn’t have one ounce of victim mentality in her genes. She stopped and listened. Something was scratching at the kitchen doors.

  She padded down the stairs, crossed the living room, and peeked around the corner. The motion light flooded the back patio, making it easy to see a raccoon trying its darnedest to open the kitchen door. George’s food bowl sat within easy sight, and the raccoon knew a good thing when it saw it.

  Jazzi called the security company to tell them it was a false alarm. She turned off the noisy blasts and walked to the door to shoo the raccoon away. It shuttled a short distance from the door, then turned to wait for her to leave. The minute she went upstairs, it would be back. Not in the mood to battle a masked bandit, she raided the refrigerator and tossed a heap of deli turkey to it. Then she moved George’s food bowl to the side of the refrigerator, out of sight.

  She had trouble falling asleep when she got back in bed. Too much excitement. No one had tried to break into her house, but what if someone had? Who would drive to Meghan’s apartment and kill her? Had the killer gone there with murder on his mind? Or had he and Meghan talked, then argued, and then the killer had acted in a fit of anger? When Miles rushed in to protect Meghan, he’d killed him, too. Probably in panic.

  Scenarios rolled in her mind like a hamster wheel, bits and pieces over and over again. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but the alarm woke her way too early. Groaning, she got out of bed, got ready, and drove to the Anthony house.

  Chapter 34

  When Jazzi reached their fixer-upper, Jerod was there. When she saw him, she wished he’d stayed home. Her tall, beefy cousin looked like he’d fall over if she gave him a push.

  “Why are you here?”

  His shoulders drooped. “I spent most of Saturday and Sunday bowing before the porcelain throne. Yesterday, I tried to watch TV on the couch with kids crawling all over me. Franny tried to keep them away, but they kept hoping I’d get up and play with them. Franny’s dragging. She’s tired of all of us, so I thought I’d rather come here and put up with you than get dirty looks from her all day. My wife needs a little alone time.”

  Jazzi laughed. Her big, strong cousin had come here to hide. “At least you’re all on the mend now. It takes a while after the flu. You don’t look like you should do anything heavy, though. What if we stain the downstairs floors together? Then we can check upstairs to see how those turned out.”

  “I saw the bathrooms. They look great.”

  “We’re making good progress. We don’t have to push ourselves today.”

  He liked the idea, so that’s what they did. He started at the back of the house and worked his way through the mudroom, laundry room, and kitchen. She took the front and stained the foyer, living room, and dining room. When they finished early, they went outside to prune bushes around the house. The stain had to dry. They couldn’t walk on it. The yard looked tidy by the time they got ready to leave for the day.

  Jazzi teased, “This place looks better than you do. Go home and go to bed.”

  “I’m locking the door. I need a long nap and an early bedtime.”

  They set off for home, but before Jazzi had even turned onto Anthony to head north, Olivia called.

  “The salon’s closed today since it’s Monday. I went shopping, and you won’t believe the beautiful kitchen stuff I found. Wanna come take a look at it?”

  Jazzi loved anything kitchen-related. Plus, it was better than going home to an empty house. “Sure, I’m on my way.” She drove straight instead of turning to take State to Lake Avenue, passing grand old neighborhoods and the Lakeside rose garden. A little farther and she’d drive past the house they’d flipped before they worked on Olivia and Thane’s place. She slowed to get a good look at it and was happy to see wicker furniture on the porch and a flowered wreath on the door. The owners were taking good care of it.

  Traffic was heavy downtown, but it was moving at a decent pace. She pulled into Olivia’s drive twenty minutes later. Her sister opened the kitchen door and motioned her inside.

  “You’ve got to see these!” She’d spread all of her new buys across the kitchen counters. First, she motioned to a set of square dishes for eight—four fire-engine red, the other four shiny black. The minute Jazzi looked at them, she thought of Olivia, bold and showy. Next came eight vivid yellow place mats, and then a set of new square-handled silverware.

  Jazzi turned to her sister, surprised, when she saw the heavy, stainless-steel cookware and slow cooker. “Are you thinking of making meals at home?”

  Olivia grinned. “I thought I’d start small—one meal a week. Thane said he’d help me. He’s watched those TV commercials where the couple dice and stir together. His grandma was a great cook, so he wants to learn to make some of her recipes. She’s promised to send them to us. We’re going to try pork chops tonight.”

  Their mom had decided to make those once. Jazzi still remembered trying to chew them; they were so dry.

  “His granny always made them with gravy. She e-mailed him a whole page of step-by-step instructions.”

  Good. Olivia had a chance of success. “It took me a while to learn how to make a good gravy with no lumps.”

  Olivia snorted. “Lumps aren’t going to bother us. Gravy’s gravy. I cheated and bought microwave mashed potatoes. There’s no way we’d get everything done at the same time.” She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “You wouldn’t mind sharing your recipes with us, would you? It would be even better if you came over once in a while to walk us through cooking them. You and Ansel could stay and eat with us.”

  “That would be fun.” Ansel liked to cook as much as she did. Having all four of them in the kitchen making a meal would be a good time.

  “Want to stay tonight? I bought three pork chops.”

  “No, you and Thane can walk through his grandma’s recipe as a couple.” Thane would like that better, just the two of them putting their heads together. Besides, Jazzi was pretty sure Thane could easily eat two chops. “Anything else to show me?”

  Olivia pointed to the corner of the counter top by the sink. “My new KitchenAid mixer.”

  Jazzi stared. It was bright red with all kinds of attachments. Jealousy raised its ugly head. “I still haven’t bought one of those. My hand mixer does a great job.”

  “Thane’s been wanting one, so I thought why not?” Olivia frowned at it. “It looks serious, doesn’t it?”

  “You could probably make your own sausages.”

  “Ugh. But I can mix cake mixes with it, can’t I?”

  “You can do that by hand if you have to.” Jazzi glanced at all of Olivia’s new things. “Your kitchen’s ready to go. All you need is a food processor.” They already had an expensive blender for mixed drinks. “Have fun breaking things in tonight.”

  “You don’t have to leave already, do you?”

  “Thane will be home soon. He’s going to be excited about all of this. I’m going to take off and let you two enjoy yourselves.”

  Jazzi passed Thane’s van on Sycamore Drive. Since she was on this end of town and was hungry, she stopped at Seth’s bar to grab a burger and a beer instead of going home to deli food. Greg was working alone since it was too early for the hordes to arrive. He sauntered to stand across from her and smiled. “What can I get for you, fair lady?”

  “Your number three with onion rings, bacon, and special sauce.”

  His gaze swept her figure. “How do you eat those and stay in such great shape?”

  “You burn off a lot of calories remodeling houses.”

&
nbsp; “I’ll take your word for it. It’s worked wonders for you.”

  The man was full of great lines. Her gaze swept the restaurant. “No Seth?”

  “Lunch was crazy today, I guess. On a Tuesday. Never happens. He just took off for his bank run.”

  The door opened, and Peyton came to plop on the stool next to her. Greg frowned.

  Peyton didn’t notice. “I saw your pickup in the lot. I wanted to tell you thank you. You didn’t have to stop to save me from Ed. Glad you did, though. I think he meant to finish me off.”

  “No problem. Ed just lost his temper and went ballistic.”

  “Yeah, Eve says he does that a lot.”

  “Does she give him reason to?” Or did Ed react like that to everything?

  Peyton looked surprised, then nodded. “He’s usually pretty chill, but she loves to push his buttons. She thought she was marrying wealthier because he bought her lots of little presents when they dated. And he still buys her things, but she thought they’d be bigger.”

  Greg listened as he poured her beer. “Women like money, that’s for sure.” He looked at Peyton, and without being asked, Peyton showed him his ID. “Good, you’re twenty-one. What’ll it be?”

  “A Miller and your buffalo wings.” Peyton turned to study the bar. Upscale. U-shaped, upholstered booths lined the far walls. Smoky-colored glass-top tables filled the center. “I’ve never been in here before. Meghan used to talk about it all the time.”

  Greg’s gaze sharpened when he heard the name. “You knew Meghan?”

  “A little.” Peyton grinned at him. “Were you the bartender she had the hots for?”

  “How did you know her?” Greg asked.

  “The hospital. We worked together. I’m almost ready to graduate as a nurse, and we were on the same floor. She was never too busy to help me, talked about you a lot.”

  Greg grimaced. “Yeah, she came here to flirt, but Seth—the owner—is the one who had the hots for her. Awkward.”

  He’d said that before, but Jazzi wondered if there was some other reason Seth doted on Meghan. Did he feel sorry for her? Had she done something that made him grateful to her? She took a sip of her beer. “I have a friend who raved about Seth’s mixed drinks. Said you and Seth might start working parties together until you’re ready to go out on your own.”