Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Did I know Terrance? I knew he was over here in a hot second after I texted him the picture of Daphne. And I knew that Kay was the type of girl he liked—red-headed, slender, and with a smattering of freckles across her nose. I looked over at Daphne. Terrance and Chloe? I couldn’t believe it. Besides, Terrance and Kay were in the “on” position last spring. Weren’t they? I thought back to last year at this time. Yes. They were together; they went to Cancun. I hated that Mary had planted that seed in my head about Terrance being unfaithful to Kay. I’d much rather think that it was the perv.

  No! Wait. I didn’t have any reason to suspect anyone of doing anything wrong. Not the perv and certainly not Terrance. Okay, maybe the perv was culpable of something wrong when it came to Daphne; hard to tell. But the point here was, I was caught up in the swirl of emotion this woman had floating around her.

  Chloe was probably off on some island reading great English literature with her Orlando and living happily ever after. Sooner or later she’d resurface, and this would all be a weird coincidence, because reality was, there was no reason to think anything other than that. The life-like quality of this mannequin and the resemblance it had not only to Chloe but to Kay was interesting. But I could understand why a sister would be scared for her sibling in this circumstance. I could even make a case for her four-hour trip up here to get a better look.

  The bell on the front door sounded again. I looked up as Peter swaggered in. I looked back at Twinkles with a grimace. He lifted his head and gave a single bark. Yeah, great job with the security there, Twinkles.

  Peter was dressed in freshly pressed blues with a full tool belt and a shiny badge. I blinked at the bright smile he sent me.

  Mary slid from her stool. She pushed a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar and gathered her purse. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said.

  The move was so abrupt that as she left, my jaw hung open. The door shut and Peter was up at the bar with his hand under my chin. He gently closed my mouth and sealed it with a kiss.

  “You called?”

  A final shiver wrung my body. As the woman left, so too went the ominous grey cloud she had brought in with her. I focused on Peter. “I’m cold,” I said. “I needed someone to warm me up.”

  “It’s my duty to protect and serve.”

  “I’d like to be served now, please,” I winked, and went to lock the front door. While it was true that his blue uniform and shiny badge flipped the lights on my libido, and I was happy to be serviced by Peter, why did I feel like what I really needed was to be protected? I sent Daphne a final glance to make sure she wasn’t popping up out of her chair as I led Peter back to my office.

  12

  “You’re acting weird,” Kay said as she tied an apron around her waist. We were opening in ten minutes.

  “Yeah, I’m starting to think that we should have left Daphne in the park, or thrown her in the bin when you suggested it.”

  Kay moved to the cutting board and picked up a lemon and a knife. “But you did so well last night. I’m not following.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following, either.” I was waiting for Dick to get here. He said he’d swing by on his way to his shift. Since Dick had taken the fingerprints from the mannequin, I thought I’d keep him up to date on the goings-on around her. When I told Peter, after he’d shined his big gun, he was still a little too giddy to make much sense of our conversation. He kind of shook his head with a loopy smile, tucked himself back together, and headed to his cruiser for a quick recuperative nap in the police parking lot before he was called to do his sworn duty for the rest of the public.

  Speak of the devil. Dick walked in with a police-blue dress shirt and matching tie, looking crisp and sharp. He’d left his jacket in the car and his badge shined on his belt, right by his very nice assets. Yeah, I was definitely going to have to rethink my rules of engagement. Dick must have seen my eyes get all soft-focused, because he sent me a lascivious grin, stalked over, and dropped me into a kiss with a dip. I wrapped my hands around his neck and sighed.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  I sighed again. “I’m still deciding. This is very helpful information,” I said. Not today, though. I’d already had my dose of cop for the day.

  Dick righted me but kept his hand on my waist when he turned to the mannequin. “Hi, Daphne. You changed your clothes and got cleaned up.”

  “That’s actually what I’d like to talk to you about,” I said. Dick slid onto a stool and listened to my explanation of the perv who treated Daphne as his date and the woman who came in and cried about her sister. I handed him the photo of Chloe Walsh that Mary had left behind.

  “Damned,” he said, holding the photo up and comparing the two.

  “I know, right?”

  Dick shifted the photo over to Kay. “But she also looks a lot like Kay, so it’s creepy, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

  “Creepy is detective-speak to describe events like this?”

  “Oh, you’re asking me for detective thoughts?” He grinned, teasing me. Then the smile slid off his face, and he took my hands in his. “BJ, you know we’ve been friends for a long time now. And one thing I like about you is how you and your sidekick there,” he tipped his head toward Kay, “seem to constantly get yourselves into the darnedest situations. Always amusing.” He paused and looked me right in the eye, any levity gone. Serious. “This one’s not amusing.” He released one of my hands and ran his fingers through his tightly-cropped hair. “This one’s got my scalp tingling.”

  I skipped over that last part. I’d never heard Dick say anything like that, and the heebie-jeebies I’d gotten from Mary’s visit were still messing with my stomach. “Ah, so that’s what you like about me, huh? That I keep life interesting.” I batted my lashes, reaching for a little levity. Fun and flirty felt safer.

  “Besides the obvious time we’ve spent together as special friends, yes, I like that about you. But let’s be serious for a minute. Getting involved with missing people, especially when there are mental health issues, and the possibility for foul play is not a road that’s safe for you to travel.”

  “So your professional take on this is that something’s fishy?”

  “Weird set of coincidences. I’m not a firm believer in coincidence.” He slid the photo back in its envelope. “I’m going to go find out who’s running the Chloe Walsh investigation and hand them this story. I’ll text you the detective’s name—in case they want to stop by and ask you any questions, you’ll know you’re talking to the right person.”

  “All right.”

  “Other than that, I want you to stop playing with this.” He pointed a finger at Daphne. “But if you want to play with a cop, I’ll be happy to help you out,” he said with a wink. In his eyes, there wasn’t a lot of flirtation; he had actually taken on the hard edge I saw in Connor’s eyes when he was in cop mode. “Seriously, BJ, consider getting rid of the mannequin.”

  “Okay. But I at least need it here tonight. There was a lot of social media buzz from people on Instagram and Snapchat last night, I’m expecting another full house, and I don’t want people posting bad things because Daphne wasn’t here.”

  “And then you’ll get rid of her?”

  “Probably. Hey, what should I do if the perv comes in for another date with Daphne tonight? Should I call the detective you’re looking up?”

  “On a Saturday night? I don’t think they’d be jumping in a car and roaring down here. One thing we could determine, though, is if this is the guy with his fingerprints on her. If he is, then we could ask him some pointed questions about why the mannequin was in the park. If he comes in, see if you can’t check his I.D. for a name and address. Maybe take a photo of it with your phone. BJ,” he added, using his stern cop voice. “That’s all you’re to do. After that, you leave it alone. Do you hear me?”

  After I agreed to his parameters, he explained how to get a good set of fingerprints. He checked his phone and shook his head. “I�
�ve got to go. Be good,” he said, and leaned in for a very nice kiss (no tongue in front of Kay) and left.

  Kay was standing off to the side with her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes looked ticked off. “What the heck? This sister just showed up while you were back in your office? She drove four hours to see a plastic mannequin?”

  “Weird, huh?”

  “I don’t like you here by yourself, even if Twinkles is with you. From now on, I want the doors locked, and I want your alarm engaged.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a little salute.

  “Don’t even play with me,” she said, and came over to give me a hug. “I’m thinking about the sister, Mary. Until Chloe is found, Mary’s life is going to be a torment. I’m putting myself in her place thinking about you. You’re the only sister I’ve got. What a horrible, horrible thought that you’d suddenly go missing without a clue.”

  13

  The night was pumping. There must be something weird going on in the universe, a strange confluence of star alignments. If I knew anything at all about astrology, I’d look it up to gain some understanding. My fortune cookie at today’s lunch said, “When you fall in a river, go with the flow.” That seemed like reasonable advice.

  At any rate, today’s flow had produced a band from the local university. Just like Dante De Angelis, they hoped to coattail on Daphne’s fifteen minutes of fame. They looked like they knew what they were doing. Their instrument cases were well-worn, anyway. It wasn’t going to cost me anything, so why not give them a go? I moved a couple of tables out to the back by the tiki lights and let the Grork set up. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. If they turned out to be atrocious, I’d get Connor to flash his badge and tell them they were violating a noise ordinance or something.

  The doors opened at five, as usual, but things didn’t get kicking until around nine. Men in khakis and the oddly-shaped, low-slung, tapered jeans that had suddenly become a thing attempted to pick up women in summer dresses with strappy sandals. I always loved to watch that dance–so much drama, the will she/won’t she? Will he/won’t he. The oh-hell-no. The cat and mouse and the just plain catty. It was the best entertainment in the world to watch from a place of sobriety—how alcohol sanded down the glossy finishes and exposed the grain below.

  “This band is surprisingly good,” Kay said, rounding the bar and putting her tray down. She shook her shoulders and arms. “Well, you can’t say anything about Hooch’s being geriatric now, huh, Bobbi Jax?” Kay filled the tray again with mixed drinks and tumblers of our signature scotch.

  Note to self, order more scotch. “Are people asking for the Badge Bunny Booze?”

  “All I have to do is say, ‘you only get to lose your cherry one thyme’ with a wink and the guys are falling on themselves to order.”

  “Good one.” We did a high five, then a down low, then we bumped butts, like we’ve done since second grade.

  She put a pile of napkins on the tray. “Check Connor. He’s giving off that cop vibe so hard, it’s going to start to bring in more of his fan club. You may have a crowd of bunnies to chew on the local clover.”

  “More?” I asked.

  Kay turned her focus toward a beautiful woman with cherry glossed lips, sucking on a Tootsie pop in the same color, like a sex kitten lapping at a saucer of cream. Her long, black, loosely-curled hair warmed her skin where her sleeveless dress left her shoulders bare. “See her?”

  “Yeah, I see her,” I said, with just of smidge of bitch in my voice. Look, I’m not judging her on her good taste in men. Especially men wearing badges. I guess I didn’t like her doing the badge bunny hop around Conner.

  “She was here last night too—in Connor’s section. She’s been nursing that drink for the past forty-five minutes.”

  “Three Coors, please.” A man held up three fingers and talked over the heads of the patrons on the stools, then held out a fifty-dollar bill. I took it and rang up the order while Kay popped the tops off three bottles and handed them over. He took them in one hand, then reached for his change with the other.

  I poured out some shots as I picked up the conversation up with Kay. “It’s probably just one of Ashley’s friends playing spy to make sure Connor doesn’t stray, especially considering that they’ve been together this long, and he hasn’t put a ring on it yet.”

  “Don’t jinx it. We don’t need no bling on that girl’s finger.” She lifted her full tray onto her shoulder and over her head.

  “Connor’s decision or hers?” I followed along beside her.

  “I think they both avoid that future conversation like the plague.”

  “Because...”

  “To be honest, I think they’re just together because, well, they’ve always been together.”

  “Comfort, then?”

  “Miss.” A man held a finger up. “Can I place an order?”

  “Be right there,” I replied as I walked with Kay.

  “There’s nothing wrong with an old pair of comfortable jammies to pull on at the end of the day. Better than being alone,” she said, then squeezed past a jumble of revelers. I headed back to the finger guy.

  I hoped that sentiment wasn’t Kay talking from her own perspective. Did she feel alone since Terrance and she took this last break? My hands were working mechanically, filling orders as I contemplated how much that might play into Kay’s attraction to Dante. I wished Terrance hadn’t needed to leave town when he did. It would have been better if he’d been able to let things rest on the stove long enough for the pot to heat up.

  I’ve seen it often enough here at the bar—people surrounded by people and still alone. Hmm, I’d have to ask Kay later what she was really feeling about going out with Dante. Personally, I couldn’t see it. I could only see Kay with Terrance. But who was I to judge?

  That was my life’s philosophy, mostly. But when I looked down the bar to the woman sucking on her lollipop, I felt pretty darned judgmental. She popped her Tootsie Pop out of her mouth and used it to stir her drink. As she did that, she dipped her chin and looked up from under her false eyelashes, giving Connor a come-hither-and-let-me-lick-your-lolli stare. She popped the candy back in her mouth and looked away coquettishly. I glanced toward Connor and saw him stall as he looked over at her. Then he looked me straight in the eye and raised his brows and smirked. Yeah, I saw her. Yeah, you’re the catch of the day. I sighed as I slid a beer to the guy on my right.

  Oh ho ho! And look who was coming through the front door. It was Dapper Dan, the Pervert Man. Perv was dressed for another hot date on the town, if you were the kind of girl who went for the whole Bill Nye with a bowtie look. He headed straight over to Daphne and acted oddly enough that once again, the seat beside her was almost instantly abandoned, and he slid into his spot, reaching for Daphne’s hand.

  Connor came around the back of the bar and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Looks like Daphne might get lucky tonight.”

  “Looks like you could, too. Let me know if you need time alone in the office with your very own representative of the Lollipop Guild.”

  “Aw c’mon, Bobbi Jax, don’t tease. I’m sure she’s a really sweet girl.”

  I swatted him with a bar towel. “Connor, are you watching this?” I asked him, tipping my head toward Daphne’s date.

  “Yep,” he said. He picked up a glass and poured off a finger of scotch. “You go take care of serving these nice people. I’ll pay attention to him.”

  “I’ve got it, but thanks.”

  I filled one more order so I wouldn’t be too obvious, then I sidled down to the perv’s end of the bar. “Well, hey there,” I said with a smile. “You came back.”

  A sweet smile slid across his lips. He ducked his head then looked up to the side to catch Daphne’s gaze and back down again.

  “Juliet and Romeo, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I’d like.”

  I leaned in across the bar. “I’m checking IDs tonight,” I said. “There are cops i
n the bar, so I’m making sure to follow the letter of the law.”

  He frowned at me.

  “I bet you’re over twenty-one.” I gave him a wink. “No problem. Right?”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

  “If you’d like, I can run you a tab.”

  “All right,” he said as he drew his driver’s license from a plastic sleeve.

  I looked at the name and dragged my best poker face into place. I still had to turn away a bit, like I was trying to find better lighting, as I worked to hide my smirk. The perv’s name was Lyle Cummings. Holy shit. How perfect was that? I couldn’t wait to tell Connor and Kay.

  Twenty-four, five-foot seven, a hundred and forty pounds. Huh, not an organ donor. I read over his address three times to commit it to memory. It’s not bad to have a thing for numbers–I can still recall the combinations from every gym locker I’ve ever used.

  With his numbers firmly anchored in my brain, I handed the license back to him. Off to the side, just in case he came in, I had placed a glass that I had rendered fingerprint-free and wrapped in a plastic bag. I used the bag to place the glass on a small serving tray. With my eye on the glass to make sure Kay and Connor didn’t touch it by accident, I made up his drink. I lifted the tray and used a napkin around the glass to place it on his coaster. “Slainte!” I offered up the Irish toast.

  He raised his brow.

  “Health and happiness,” I said as I moved away, hoping I looked casual, but really, I was quivering inside. I’d make a terrible undercover cop.

  I went to the cash register, where I wrote down all the information I’d mined from Mr. Cummings’s license, folded the paper, and slid it in my back pocket. My plan was on track.