Heart of Gold

by B. J Daniels

  “I’ve sent someone to pick up the...evidence,” the judge said when Shep finished. “He should be there any minute. Keep me up to date on what is going on.”

  “I’m trying not to let Charlie out of my sight, but she’s determined to go to work. You know how she was at boot camp. She hasn’t changed. Are you sure we shouldn’t let the police handle this?”

  “Let’s wait and see if we get any prints off the doll. We need something more before we go to the police.”

  “I’m just afraid of what that more might be.” Shep waited for the driver of the car the judge had sent to pick up the bagged doll, then ran back upstairs to the apartment. Charlie was standing at the sink, washing out her empty bowl.

  “I ate the oatmeal. It was good, thank you,” she said, leaving the bowl to drain. She glanced at him. “Did you—”

  “I took care of it. The judge has someone taking it to a lab. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be a clear print on it.”

  “Even if that was the case,” Charlie said, “destroying my doll isn’t enough to get the person arrested.”

  She had a point—just as the judge had said. So far, whoever was behind this hadn’t made a direct threat. “When was the last time you saw the doll?”

  “Fifteen years ago, at the house. I kept it on the top shelf near my bed.”

  “You didn’t get to take it with you?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized how foolish they were. Of course she hadn’t.

  “I was taken straight into foster care with nothing but the clothes on my back. But I did refuse to go until I grabbed my photo album.”

  “Then you have no way of knowing what happened to the doll.”

  Charlie shook her head. “I forgot all about it until I saw her lying outside my door.”

  He thought about who had access to the doll. Charlie had been taken away after her father’s death and Lindy’s. Kat had been in the hospital, but at some point she would have come back for her belongings, right? The house would have been a crime scene until the investigation was over, but then anyone could have come in and taken the doll.

  Unless Kat had taken it out of spite.

  After seeing what had been done to the doll, it had to have been someone who knew about the haircut Lindy had given Charlie. That certainly narrowed it down. “Did anyone else know about the time Lindy cut your hair?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe Lindy bragged about it at school. I don’t know.”

  He thought it was a long shot that someone from school had taken it. The obvious suspect was Kat. But why would she have taken the doll that looked so much like Charlie, given how she felt about her stepdaughter? It would have been a constant reminder of the person she blamed for her daughter’s death. How macabre, if true.

  Charlie’s cell rang. She checked it. From her expression, he could tell it was Daniel.

  He stepped out of the room to give her some privacy, all the time swearing under his breath. Maybe it was time to see what he could find out about Daniel along with Amanda, the office manager.

  “I need to get to work,” Charlie said behind him.

  He turned. “That was a short call. Everything all right?”

  She pulled a face. “What do you think?” She stepped to the door, took her coat from the hook and tugged on her boots again. This time when she opened the door, it was with obvious apprehension.

  “I’ll be right behind you all the way,” he said, reaching for his own coat.

  “That’s ridiculous. Walk me to work. I won’t have you skulking behind me.”

  “I don’t skulk.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHARLIE’S THOUGHTS JUMPED all over the place from the doll to Daniel’s call to Shep walking beside her to work. She hated how glad she was that he was here with her—even though it was causing problems between her and Daniel. And not just because she hadn’t told him about what was going on. Having Shep here... Well, it had messed with her in other ways she didn’t want to think about. That, too, had put distance between her and her boyfriend.

  Seeing her once treasured doll had traumatized her. The person who’d done this was so...hateful. It frightened her. But she also felt guilty that she’d forgotten about the doll her father had bought her. What she couldn’t understand was what the person who’d done this wanted from her. Scare her? Or let her know that this wasn’t over. There would be more hateful things coming.

  When Daniel had called earlier he’d sounded...strange. Almost as if he was sorry, until he lost his temper when she told him not to come by her apartment on his way to work because she was leaving right away.

  “You can’t spare a few minutes?” he’d demanded. “Fine. Whatever. When you decide to let me know what’s going on, you call me.”

  By the time she reached her building and left Shep standing out in the snow, she decided it was time to tell Daniel everything and let the chips fall where they may, as one of her foster mothers used to say. What did she have to lose? Daniel. But if she kept this up, she was going to lose him anyway.

  She pushed open the door to the design office and stepped inside. For a moment she’d forgotten about yesterday’s lunch and the horrible stomach problems that had caused her not to return to work.

  “Enjoy your afternoon off?” Amanda asked sarcastically as Charlie started past her office. Apparently Amanda had returned after lunch—even though she was quite drunk the last time Charlie had seen her. Had it been an act so she could doctor dessert and leave? Charlie found herself questioning the woman’s every action now.

  “Something I ate made me sick,” she said, wanting to ignore Amanda and the jab, but thinking about Shep’s suspicions. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”

  “I can’t imagine what you’re insinuating,” Amanda said and rubbed a temple with her fingers as if in pain. She did appear to be suffering from a hangover, but then that, too, could be a ruse. If Amanda had put something in Charlie’s mousse yesterday, a hangover wasn’t near enough punishment.

  Glancing toward the office next to Amanda’s, Charlie asked, “Greg isn’t in yet?”

  “He called in sick yesterday. Said he would be in later today. Apparently it was something he ate, too.” Did that smug smile mean what Charlie thought it did? Or was Amanda questioning if she and Greg had both used the same excuse so they could get together yesterday afternoon?

  It was enough to make Charlie’s head ache. “I think it was the mousse.”

  “That’s what Greg said. I suppose you’re both going to blame me since I was the one who insisted you try it.”

  Charlie stared at her. Was it possible that Amanda had doctored both of the desserts to make them sick? Or had the mousse turned and made not just the two of them sick but everyone else who’d had it at the restaurant?

  Charlie moved down the hallway to her cubicle. The oatmeal had helped settle her stomach somewhat, but she still felt weak. Her muscles ached from all the heaving and she still felt a little light-headed.

  “How was your lunch?” Tara whispered, looking at her in alarm.

  “I got food poisoning. Or something.”

  Tara gasped. “That’s horrible. Where did Greg take you?”

  Charlie told her the name of the restaurant. “I suspect everyone who had the mousse got it. Greg called in sick, too, I guess,” she said, lowering her voice.

  On impulse, she looked up the restaurant online and called the number. “This is a crazy question and one you might not even honestly answer, but did you get any complaints about the mousse making people sick?”

  “The chocolate mousse? It’s our specialty. No one ever complains.”

  “So no one called to say it made them sick?” Charlie prodded.

  “No, but you’re welcome to speak to our manager.”

  She was looking at Tara who was now wide-eyed. “No
, thank you.” She disconnected. “I think Amanda put something in my dessert that made me deathly ill. It’s possible she doctored Greg’s as well. She was drinking and upset because she wasn’t getting enough attention from Greg.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to tell me about it before the shower.”

  For a moment the word shower didn’t make any sense. “Oh, your baby shower.”

  “You forgot.”

  “No, not exactly.” Charlie groaned. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve had so much on my mind.”

  “It’s all right. On top of that, you ate something that made you sick.”

  “What does anyone carry in her purse that could cause that kind of nausea if mixed with a food like mousse?” Charlie asked.

  Tara, whose whole family was involved in the health profession, thought for a moment. “Something small that anyone might carry...” She burst into a grin. “Eye drops.”

  “Eye drops?”

  Her friend shook her head. “I know it sounds odd, but my uncle the pediatrician was telling me about a toddler who got into his mother’s eye drops. Made him sicker than a dog.”

  “Eye drops,” Charlie repeated, wondering how she could get a look inside Amanda’s purse. Maybe at the shower. That’s when she realized she had also forgotten her baby shower present. She’d purchased it weeks ago. She’d have to go home and get it. “I am sorry I forgot about your shower.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Tara hugged her huge protruding belly. “You haven’t been lugging around a constant reminder like I have. Charlie, I’m worried about you. If you’re right...” She made a motion toward the front of the office.

  “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”

  “Well, at least you have job security. Greg seemed over the moon about your presentation. Are things with Daniel okay?”

  Charlie shrugged. “It’s a long story.” She knew she had to tell Tara something. The woman was one of her best friends. “An old boyfriend has come back into my life. Literally. He’s...staying with me.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. “What does Daniel think of that?”

  “He doesn’t know yet. I’m trying to figure out how to tell him.”

  Her expression said good luck with that. “This was a serious boyfriend?”

  Charlie nodded. The explanation wasn’t completely true but it covered at least part of it. “Daniel knows something’s wrong, but not all of it.”

  “You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”

  She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I’m worried he won’t understand.”

  “I guess it depends on how serious things are with the old boyfriend now.”

  Just then Amanda walked through on her way to the ladies’ room.

  Charlie turned back to her desk and so did Tara.

  “Come to the shower early if you want to talk about it,” Tara whispered over her shoulder.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE apartment, Shep looked up the design company where Charlie was employed. Under Contact Information, he found the names of the administrative staff. Gregory Shafer, CEO and owner. Amanda Barnes, office manager. At the top of a list labeled Creative Design Team was Charlie Farmington.

  He felt a wave of pride. Charlie had succeeded against odds that someone half as strong would have crumbled under. The woman amazed him.

  He studied the photograph of Amanda Barnes for a moment before going online to see what he could find out about her. He found nothing in her background on social media to raise any red flags. She appeared to come from a middle-class family and had majored in history and English. She’d taught one year, English as a second language at an alternative school. The job apparently hadn’t worked out, and she’d fallen into administrative jobs until she went to work for Greg Shafer at a design company in Colorado as an office manager.

  There was much less information available on Greg Shafer. He appeared to be a self-made man, majoring in design at Colorado State, opening his first company right out of college. By Shep’s count, the Bozeman design company was his fourth. On paper, he appeared to be a successful man. The kind a woman would be attracted to, maybe especially a woman like Amanda.

  Shep looked up the restaurant where Charlie had been served chocolate mousse. The call went through. He inquired about anyone calling in to say the mousse had made them sick. A woman assured him that they’d had no report of anyone getting sick.

  Placing another call, this one to Paul Wagner, the man who had lived down the street from Charlie fifteen years ago, Shep’s mind buzzed with worry about her. Someone had doctored her mousse. If not Amanda, then who did that leave?

  A thin elderly voice answered the call. “Hello?”

  Shep introduced himself and then said, “I need to talk to you about the murder of Lindy Parker. Do you mind if I come over?”

  “I’ll be here,” Wagner said and Shep headed for his pickup.

  Like Edna Trenton, Paul Wagner still lived in the same house he had fifteen years ago. Having an unsolved murder just doors away hadn’t seemed to worry either of them. Probably because most everyone believed the killer had been a vagrant passing through town. Except for Mulvane. And possibly Kat Ramsey.

  The farmhouse back off the street had seen better days. It looked odd with all the new development around it. Bozeman had always been a desirable city to live in, hitting a lot of the Ten Best Places to Live lists over the years. Recently the city had taken off again with home prices shooting skyward.

  Shep wondered why Wagner hadn’t cashed in yet. His large piece of property was worth a small fortune.

  A mangy mutt of a dog limped out, barking as Shep parked and started to get out. The dog began to growl in warning.

  “Bruce!” a man called from the sagging farmhouse porch. “Knock it off!” The dog skulked away and Shep got out onto the unplowed drive.

  “Paul Wagner?” he asked. The man was small and wiry with a shock of white hair and a scraggly beard that dropped clear to his protruding belly.

  The man leaned on his walker, craning his neck to look at Shep. “Who’s asking?”

  “My name’s Shepherd, Westly Shepherd. I called earlier. I’m looking into the murder of Lindy Parker.” The man’s brown eyes took him in as Shep climbed the steps to the porch. “It happened fifteen years ago in that old Victorian that used to be down the road from here.”

  “So you’re the one who called. Wondered when you’d be getting around to me. Heard you were asking questions around the neighborhood. Best come inside,” Wagner said, and he opened the door and led the way in.

  As Shep followed the man, he realized that time and possibly disease had whittled the man down to just the potbelly.

  “Pay no attention to the mess,” Wagner said as he slid his walker along the worn wood floor. “I live alone and I’m used to it. It’s my mess, as I keep telling my well-meaning stepsons who want me to tidy up. Well, the ones who bother to visit, that is.”

  Shep followed him into the small living area. It was a mess, cluttered with newspapers and magazines and books piled everywhere.

  “You’re a reader,” Shep said, noticing the books that took up most of the wall space as well as the floor. “I’ve read a lot of these.”

  “Takes a reader to appreciate another,” the man said as he carefully lowered himself into a well-worn recliner. He motioned for Shep to take a nearby chair.

  But Shep had gotten distracted by a framed newspaper article on the wall titled “Local Hero Saves Girl’s Life.” A nine-year-old girl had fallen into a pond near Wagner’s house. He had jumped in when he realized she didn’t know how to swim and dragged her out to save her life.

  “That was right before the murder,” the man said. “Back when I was capable of saving someone. Not much hero left in me.”

  Shep took the chair he’d been offered. “Did
you know the Farmington family?”

  Wagner shook his head. “Never met ’em. Just saw ’em coming and goin’.”

  “I’m sure the police already asked you this fifteen years ago, but did you hear anything the night of the murder?” Shep asked. He noticed that Wagner now wore hearing aids in both ears.

  “Had the TV turned up too loud to hear myself think back then. Was convinced I didn’t need these damned things.” He pointed at the hearing aid in his left ear. “Got so bad I finally bit the bullet. I was shocked when the cop came to my door and told me what had happened.”

  Shep was beginning to wonder why he was bothering with asking the neighbors. It wasn’t like they had anything new to offer. He glanced around the room. Everything looked well-worn. On a bookshelf in the corner, he spotted an assortment of what appeared to be a variety of sports awards. He pointed at them. “Yours?”

  Wagner shook his head. “Mostly from two of my stepsons. A couple of them are mine from back in my heyday.” He grinned. “I may not look it but I was fast on my feet, and good with my hands.”

  “Did any of your stepsons know the teenage girls down the road?”

  “The boys had moved out long before that family moved in, but they visited occasionally.” Wagner winked. “They weren’t apt to miss a pretty face so I’m sure they’d noticed. But they were all in their twenties, way too old for those schoolgirls.”

  “Did any of your stepsons stop by that night?”

  The old man shook his head. “The only time they came around back then was when they needed a meal or money. Damn shame what happened. You know I saw her that night.”

  “You did?” Shep’s ears perked up.

  “I’d gotten up during a commercial on TV to go into the kitchen for a snack. That window in there looked out on that big old house. All the lights were blaring. I figured the parents were gone. Can’t imagine what their electric bill was each month.”