by Meg Lelvis
. . . . .
Jack walked toward his car in the parking lot, already sweating from the ghastly heat. No cloud cover, just relentless sun burning down. He started the Beemer and ramped up the AC. He was curious to see what Lindsey Marks was like, and if she’d be forthcoming. He didn’t want to get pissed and use his bad cop routine on her. Wasn’t in the mood.
Jack arrived home, thankful he didn’t have to plow through rush hour traffic that trapped most of the people he knew from the department. He parked in the garage, and opened the kitchen door to
Boone’s yips and jumps.
“Let’s get the mail, buddy.” Boone darted to the sago palm for relief.
“Mr. Bailey, you’re home,” exclaimed the glass-shattering voice of Erna Baumgartner as she appeared by her front porch.
“Outside sneaking a smoke I see,” Jack called back. Damn, he’d almost made it inside without the old battle ax snaring him.
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m an old lady. I deserve some pleasure besides cooking and cleaning for you.” She lumbered toward Jack wiping her shiny forehead. She wore her usual shapeless floral house dress, splashed with purple irises.
“Who says you have to cook? I’ve been chewing Tums ever since your last meatloaf.”
“Ha ha, in fact I cooked my special meatballs and made some just for you. You gobbled them up last time.”
“You’re dreaming, Baumgartner. A hundred of your meatballs would have turned the tide at Gettysburg.”
“Ach, that’s the thanks I get for taking care of you,” Mrs. Baumgartner snorted and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I’ll bring them right over.”
“Ya, ya,” he mimicked her German accent. “Wunderbar.” He headed for the garage.
“Oh ya, I almost forgot. Father Joe wants you to come to a special Mass and—”
“I know, you told me, and you know I—Ain’t—Interested,” he spoke slowly.
“Ach, you know proper grammar, Mr. Bailey.” She wagged her index finger at him.
Jack and Boone made their escape in the garage and through the door into the kitchen.
“Come on, guy, here’s your dinner.” He ruffled the big dog’s yellow coat and poured kibbles in one bowl and filled another with fresh water.
He heard a key unlock the front door, and a whiff of spicy meat permeated the air. “Who’s there?”
“Ha ha, funny man. Here’s your meatballs, enough for two meals.” She placed a covered Pyrex dish on the counter. “There’s plenty of sauce too. Just put them on a plate and—”
“Put a paper towel over it so it won’t splatter.” Jack growled, “I know what to do. Danke schon, Baumgartner.” He hustled her out the door amidst further directions about the art of microwaving.
God, the woman could be a pain in the ass.
An hour later, Jack was on his way to the Olive Garden. He’d taken Boone for a short walk and later enjoyed a Guinness and a plate of the dreaded meatballs. He had to admit they weren’t bad.
Traffic was still heavy, but Jack arrived at the restaurant within fifteen minutes. The heat was a bitch, but the cool air refreshed when he walked into the eatery. He thought he might see Jena, the hostess from yesterday, but tonight a young Latino man greeted him.
Jack said, “I’m here to see Lindsey Marks. Is she around?”
The host hesitated and said, “Yes, she’s working the other room. Can I tell her who’s here?”
“No need.” Jack didn’t want to cause the guy discomfort by flashing his badge, so he headed past tables of diners and entered the adjoining room. He could feel the host’s eyes staring at his back, wondering what an old guy like Jack wanted with Lindsey, but he didn’t give a shit.
Jack looked around the room. Only a few diners. He spotted Dan Reed, the manager, talking to a bus boy clearing off a table. Reed looked at Jack and waved. Something about that guy wasn’t ‘cricket’, as Jack’s mother used to say.
Chapter 11
“Hey, Lieutenant, been expecting you.” Reed held out his hand, which Jack shook.
“Good. Is Lindsey here?”
“Yup, she should be right along. Do you want to use my office to talk?” Reed certainly was accommodating. Jack wondered why.
“Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.”
“I’ll go tell her you’re here.” Reed headed for the kitchen entrance.
A minute later he returned with an attractive young woman at his side who looked like she stepped out of an ad for designer jeans. Tall and thin, she carried herself with assurance and grace. Her long honey brown hair was straight and pulled back in a low pony tail. Creamy skin set off sparkling brown eyes above cheekbones seldom seen outside an art museum.
“Lindsey, this is Lieutenant Jack Bailey. Jack, Lindsey Marks.”
The girl held out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” Her smile highlighted perfect teeth which probably cost her parents plenty.
“Same here.” Jack took her hand which was surprisingly firm. “Dan said we could talk in his office, so if you’re ready.”
“Sure thing.” She nodded and they followed Reed through the kitchen to his office door. He opened it and gestured toward his desk. “Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks.” Jack closed the door and waved toward a chair by the desk for Lindsey. After she settled in, he moved the adjoining chair further away to give her space, and sat down. Her confident, mature demeanor was a sharp contrast to Derek’s awkwardness and discomfort.
“Dan told you why I wanted to see you?” Jack asked.
“Yes, but I don’t know if I can help any.” Her face was oval shaped with a small nose and full pink lips. She effortlessly turned her regulation white blouse and black skirt into a fashion statement.
Hell, the girl would look like a million bucks in one of Baumgartner’s frumpy house dresses. Jack told himself to focus.
“First off, my goal is to find out all I can about Todd; what kind of person he was, what he did outside of work.” Jack cleared his throat. “I’m not here to pry into your personal life or to judge, and of course, anything you say will be off the record for now.”
“Yes, I understand.” Lindsey nodded and smiled.
Jack thought the girl really had it together, or maybe her confidence was a facade. “I hear you dated Todd a couple years ago. Tell me about that.” Damn, she was gorgeous.
“Well, I’d been working here a few months before Todd hired on.” Lindsey crossed her long tan legs. “I wasn’t seeing anybody at the time, and I thought he was nice and cute too. So after a few days of, okay, I guess you’d call it flirting, he asked me out.”
Jack struggled to avert his eyes from her silky legs. “You went out after work?”
“We had the next Sunday off, so we went to a movie and then dinner at La Cocina. We were having a good time, talking, drinking strawberry margaritas, well I was anyway. Todd liked his on the rocks. I had a few drinks and got silly. Can’t remember how many, lost track. I should’ve quit, but—”
Lindsey reached back and swept her long pony tail over her shoulder. She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers.
Jack sensed what was coming. “Go on,” he said quietly. His brain switched from lusting after a lovely girl to anger at anyone who hurt her.
“Todd was anxious to get out of there, so he paid the bill and we left. I’m half in the bag, laughing and acting a fool.” She rolled her eyes. “So he tells me his place is a dump, but why don’t we go there for coffee. I’m like, what the hell, why not.” She paused. “You know, I could use some water.”
�
��Sure, just a minute.” Jack got up and left the office and soon returned with two glasses of ice water. He handed one to Lindsey.
“Thanks.” She took several swallows. “So we take off for his place. He’s right, the apartment’s a real flea bag. Small, run-down crappy looking building, trash bags all around, dumpster along the side. But I’m still game, and we go in. And this is where things get fuzzy.”
Jack took a gulp of water. “Take your time.”
Lindsey crossed those legs again. “The inside’s like a big, dumpy hotel room, like a studio apartment. Just a room with a bed and some furniture, a bathroom and kitchenette. Can’t remember much. I think he takes my arm and leads me to the bed. Then something about a drink.”
She took another sip of water.
“I think we’re laughing, goofing around, the drink tastes sweet, like cherry soda or something.”
She paused. “Then, just vague dream-like visions. I can’t explain them.”
“Did you spend the night?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. It was early when I woke up. I’d told my roommates not to wait up for me. He’s still sleeping, so I wake him up and tell him to take me home.” She looked at the floor.
Jack cleared his throat again. “Lindsey, just want to remind you that this conversation is confidential. I know it’s awkward for you, but I’ve been a cop a long time, and I’ve heard a lot of shit—I mean, stuff.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I know. Even after two years, I’m embarrassed and pissed off at myself for going home with the prick.” Jack was glad to see her facade crack a little. Hoped she’d let things out.
“If I hadn’t drunk so damn much, but I told my shrink, and I’ll tell you I’m sure he put something in the drinks, at least the one he gave me at his dump. You know, what they call that date rape drug.”
Jack nodded his head. “Yes, rohypnol’s the most common one. It sounds like you blacked out.”
Lindsey nodded and grimaced. “I did for sure. You know, I’ve had boyfriends, and I’m no Sunday School teacher, but I don’t have sex on the first date. I’m not that easy, and what that asshole did was illegal.” Her cheeks turned rosy, her eyes glared. “I knew the minute I woke up, and after I got him awake, I screamed at him, how could he do that? Do you know what he said?”
Jack guessed, but he shook his head. He’d heard plenty of denials from dick heads like Todd.
“He says, what do you mean? We had a great time. You enjoyed it.” Lindsey banged her water glass on the desk and balled her fist. “I wanted to kill the bastard. Oh, I mean, I didn’t mean—“
“I know, Lindsey, you weren’t the one who killed him.” Jack wished he could hug the girl, but he didn’t have that option. “Did you think about reporting him?”
“No, because I wasn’t totally sure I hadn’t gone along with it, maybe I was so wasted I just kept acting like a frickin’ airhead, who knows. Besides, how could I prove I didn’t give consent?”
Jack nodded. “Unfortunately, that is a problem. You mentioned a shrink. Did you tell anyone else?”
“Just my roommates. They wanted me to report him, but they had to admit there wouldn’t be any proof. I told my mom after a few months. By then I had issues with anxiety, college, goals, all that crap, so Mom wanted me to see a therapist.” Lindsey twisted more strands of her hair. “He helped a lot, made me realize it wasn’t my fault, and offered to help me if I wanted to pursue legal action. But I decided not to, didn’t wanna put myself through something I couldn’t prove.”
Jack nodded and put his glass on the desk. “How was it working here with Todd afterwards?”
“I almost quit, but I like the boss and other people and I wanted to save more money for college. I totally ignored the creep after that, and he left me alone. Probably worried I’d bad mouth him to the others, which I did. Just said he was an ass, didn’t give any details.” She crossed her legs again.
“Are we about through?”
Jack straightened his back. “Yeah, sorry, I know it’s rough reliving this. Just one more question. What do you know about Brooke Warner and her relationship with Todd if any?”
“Oh god, I tried to tell her. She started work a month or so after my shit happened with him. She’s a little younger than me, barely a year out of high school. She wanted spending money for college, but was only part time or something.” Lindsey flipped her pony tail onto her back. “I got the idea she dropped out of college, gone somewhere else, she never wanted to talk much. Cute girl, blond, quiet. Anyway, I see asshole Todd coming on to her a couple times. So I take her aside and say ‘It’s none of my business, but I gotta tell ya, stay away from him. He’s a real prick.’ I didn’t want to give details, but I say ‘you can’t trust him,’ blah blah.”
“How did Brooke take the advice?”
Lindsey smiled. “That’s two questions.”
“You got me,” Jack said. “I promise, this is the last one.”
“She claimed she wasn’t interested in Todd, that he hadn’t tried to hit on her, but she blushed and acted squirmy-like. Anyway, a few days later there was a staff party after work, and damned if she didn’t leave with him. I almost ran after them, and wish I had.”
Lindsey uncrossed her legs and straightened her skirt across her knees. “Next thing I know, Brooke quits work. She didn’t last two weeks. I never saw her again, and no one knows what happened. Derek kinda knew her in high school. Graduated from Travis a year apart. Nobody’s searched for her online or anything like that. At least I don’t think so.”
Lindsey drained her water glass. “I felt sorry for the poor kid; wish I’d done something to stop them that night. I talked to my shrink about it. Finally quit beating myself up over it.”
Jack stood up and pushed his chair beside the desk. “I’m glad you’re doing okay, and I appreciate your honesty in answering these questions. It helps a lot.” He smiled and held out his hand which Lindsey took as she rose from her chair. Damn shame she was thirty years too young.
Jack opened the door and gestured Lindsey ahead of him. He followed her through the kitchen to the dining room. Dan Reed intercepted them at the door. “Need anything else, Lieutenant?”
“No, not now.” Jack turned to Lindsey. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks again for your help.” He nodded at Reed and walked toward the exit. He hoped the guy wouldn’t drill her about their conversation.
On the drive home, Jack thought about Lindsey’s interview. He felt certain the motive for Todd’s murder was revenge from a pissed-off boyfriend. Or a brother, father, friend of a girl he’d gotten drunk, probably drugged, and sexually assaulted. He didn’t suspect anyone associated with Lindsey because her situation happened two years ago. Too long a time lapse. Wonder how many girls the asshole assaulted until someone put a stop to it a few days ago.
He believed Lindsey told the truth. After thirty years as a cop, he knew a lie when he heard it.
He’d document his interview when he returned home, drink a Guinness, and turn in. Tomorrow he’d make an effort to track down Brooke Warner. Maybe he should take Denise or Kathleen along. The girl would be more comfortable with a woman present, given the personal nature of the interview. He’d sleep on it, decide tomorrow.
Chapter 12
Jack arrived home exhausted and soon tumbled into bed. Several hours after falling asleep, fractured visions of scattered violent forces, dark lakes, and orange explosions lighting up a black sky forced him from his subliminal torment into murky consciousness. Groaning, he turned on his back and wiped streams of sweat off his brow. Boone jumped on the bed and nuzzled Jack’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, guy. Nightmares again.” He looked at the clock. 2:30. “Shit. Too late for an
other Ambien.” He rolled over on his side and thrashed around until he was comfortable. The blanket was crumpled at the foot of the bed, so he pulled the sheet over his head and tried to convince himself he was sleepy and all was well.
Instead, memories of bright green fields trickled into his mind. Karen’s voice. Oh, this is beautiful, Jack. No wonder they call it the Emerald Isle. Look, Elizabeth, see the sheep. Oh, aren’t those little lambs cute?
No, can’t do this, he thought as he ran his hands through his hair. Would he ever be free? His shrink in Chicago said he’d never get over it, but with time, he might come to terms with it. Have a chance for a new kind of satisfying, meaningful life. What’s the catch phrase? Oh yeah, a ‘new normal.’
Bullshit, it’ll never happen. They should’ve let him end things when he wanted to. Jack hated to admit he needed professional help again, but damn, the nightmares were killing him.
He switched on his white-noise machine to ‘ocean surf’ and tried to visualize sitting on a vacant beach guzzling a Guinness. He must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knew, daylight crept through the edges of his window blinds, and he slowly awakened. Boone slept curled up at the foot of the bed.
Jack turned off his alarm clock, forced himself out of bed, and trudged to the shower. Half an hour later, he fired up the Beemer’s engine and headed for the station. Groggy and unsettled, he needed more coffee. Maybe there’d be doughnuts.
Within ten minutes he turned into the station parking lot. Hardly any cars around at this hour.
He liked getting to work early; weren’t many people around to have to greet. As he stepped out of the car, the heat assaulted him with a vengeance. Thank god August was almost over, and then September with its chilly 80 degree temps.
Jack spent the next hour catching up on paperwork before the weekly 8:30 meeting with the brass. The captain would bust his balls about the Kaplan murder, but at least he was making headway determining motive.
