by Meg Lelvis
They each took a swallow. Denise fixed her elbows on the edge of the table and leaned toward Jack. “Yeah, well, it was pretty intense. Once we get in the den, Brooke starts to loosen up and talk. Tells me about her stints at Westpark Springs and how long the anorexia’s been going on, and then something about Todd.”
Jack nodded. “Keep going.”
Denise explained how Brooke and her high school friends were obsessed with being thin, and dieted constantly with a few of them binging and purging. The summer before senior year she started work at the Olive Garden and met Todd. One night at a party, he was hanging with Brooke and kept bringing her drinks. She didn’t remember what they were, but they tasted sweet, like punch. She got tipsy and vaguely remembers walking out with him.
Jack listened intently until Gus interrupted with their order. “More drinks?”
“Maybe later. Still working on mine.” Denise sipped her wine.
“I’ll take another beer. Don’t suppose you have Jamesons,” Jack asked.
Gus grinned. “A first class joint like this? Of course we do.”
“Good. I’ll have a shot.”
“You sure about that, Bailey?” Denise cut her burger in two. “Guess I could drive home.”
“Not to worry. I’m Irish.”
“That’s what worries me.” She bit into her burger. “Hmm, good.”
“So Brooke leaves the party with the sleaze ball after he gets her drunk.”
Denise swallowed and took a forkful of salad. “Yeah, she doesn’t remember anything except afterward. Says she blacked out because of the purging. Can’t hold liquor.”
Jack straightened, eager to hear more.
“Next thing she knows, she finds herself on a bed, looks around and Todd’s sitting at a nearby table drinking coffee. She has a hard time telling me this next part, but she’s hurting, sore, knows what happened.” Denise grimaced and shook her head. “And here’s the kicker. If that motherfucker was alive, I’d kill him myself. The poor kid hadn’t been around before, so—”
Jack felt a surge of anger. “Christ, you mean that asshole—a virgin?”
Denise nodded her head. “I hate to admit it, Bailey, but I damn near choked up. Then I got majorly pissed. I think of my daughter—” Her voice trailed off as Gus returned with Jack’s drinks.
“Shit.” That was all Bailey could think of to say.
She finished her salad and started the cole slaw. Jack ate silently. He checked the screen on his vibrating cell and then shut the damn thing off.
Denise continued. “So Brooke doesn’t remember talking, except Todd mumbling some horseshit about assuming she’d done it before. He drives her home, some god awful hour in the morning.” Denise drained her glass and signaled Gus for another. “Her mom meets her at the door, mad at her for being so late and not answering her cell. She makes an excuse about falling asleep at a friend’s.”
Jack knocked back the Jamesons. “Did she ever tell her mom what happened?”
“Not for a long time. A couple days after, she gives notice at the Olive Garden, making some excuse about needing more time to study senior year. After that things go downhill. Starts school, can’t concentrate, doesn’t eat, feels depressed. Her mom makes her see a shrink.” Denise dipped a fry in ketchup and popped half in her mouth.
Jack nodded and chewed.
“By this time Brooke’s wearing down, but I’m surprised how open she is. Anyway, her whole senior year is a bust. The shrink diagnoses anorexia, prescribes Prozac plus other types of therapy and counseling. She ends up unable to function at school, so she goes on home study second semester.”
“You mean home schooled?” Jack asked.
“No, a tutor comes to the house several times a week. A parent is required to be on the premises, which means the mom and dad have to juggle work schedules.”
Jack finished his burger and took a gulp of beer. He thought for a minute. “You’re saying after the Todd shit, Brooke went down the toilet ‘cause of what the scum did?”
“I’m not sure. She got too drained to talk anymore. I tell her she did great and we’ll keep in contact.” She paused. “Not to brag, Bailey, but I may have missed my calling.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What?”
“I’d make a hell of a shrink. Brooke felt comfortable with me and spilled her guts. Got the magic touch.” She twirled her fingers in the air.
“Yeah, and modest too.” Jack rolled his eyes. He grudgingly admitted Denise handled the interview well. Better than he would have.
Gus came over to ask if they wanted dessert. “We have apple pie just like your mother baked when you were kids.”
“In that case, I’ll pass,” Denise said. “My mother couldn’t boil water. Just kidding, I’ll take a slice and ice cream on top if you have it. And black coffee.”
Jack shook his head, and Gus departed.
“Jesus, Williams, I’m breaking the bank here. How come you’re not fat?”
She grinned. “Can’t beat good genes.”
He drained his mug. “Now we have two young girls who Todd violated.” He hated the word rape for some reason. “Lindsey and Brooke. Any family member you like for the murder?”
“I haven’t met Lindsey, but their alibis were good. Hard to say about Brooke’s family.”
“Yeah. I’ll text Moose to check out her dad and brother’s alibis.” He powered up his cell and sent his message.
Gus arrived with a slice of apple pie a la mode and coffee. Denise held up her fork. “Can’t wait to dive into this.”
They were silent while Denise devoured every bite of dessert and drained her coffee mug.
“I’m gonna google anorexia and get a better understanding of it. See if anything jumps out related to Brooke.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and placed it on the table.
“Sounds good. Ready?”
Jack summoned Gus, paid the tab, and said their goodbyes to Gus. Two scruffy looking men in ragged jeans walked in and sat down. Gus greeted them by name. Jack and Denise headed for the inevitable steam bath of the great outdoors.
Jack revved up the Beemer’s engine and AC, and by the time he drove out of the parking lot, the car felt cool.
“I’m ready for a nap,” Jack said. “Might take a snooze when we get back.”
“The perks of having your own office. Nowhere for me to hide.” Denise leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
“Gotta get on Tilford’s ass. See what he found out from the other girl he was supposed to talk to.” They drove back to the station in comfortable silence. But Brooke’s anorexia nagged at Jack.
Could Kaplan be to blame?
Chapter 19
Twenty minutes later Jack sat in his office and called Tilford. When he picked up, Jack asked, “Any new information to share?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Just walked in. Should I come by?”
Jack didn’t want to see the guy, but he grudgingly mumbled, “Yeah.”
Tilford arrived and eased his ample girth into a chair across the desk, his pudgy face ruddy from the heat, sweat stains on the armpits of his rumpled shirt. He smoothed his thin white hair back on his balding freckled pate.
“You’ll be happy to know I met Kelly Vega. Still works at Olive Garden and went out with Todd a couple times to eat and another time to a movie.”
“When was that?” Jack asked as he fiddled with a stack of papers.
“About six months ago. The first couple dates she doesn’t drink as much as he wants to foist on her. Says he tries to get her in the sack after both dates, but she refuses.”
Tilford took a swig from his water bottle. “Tells him if he wants a girl who puts out, go find someone else.”
“Then what?”
“He appears to rise to the occasion, ha ha.”
“Need to update your jokes, Tilford. Go on.” Would this jerk ever retire?
Tilford smirked. “By the way, Kelly’s a little chunky, but not bad looking. Anyways, she says Kaplan doesn’t give up. Asks her out again and they see a movie. They go to a bar and order drinks. She goes to the john, comes back, and drinks her margarita. It hits her, says there must be too much tequila in it.” He took another gulp of water and wiped his mouth with his hand.
“Kaplan talks her into dancing and she’s feeling fuzzy. Says she wants to go home, and they pay up and leave. She gets in his car and he heads out. Says she’s almost asleep, and then she must’ve totally passed out.” Tilford repositioned himself, grunting. “Next thing she knows she’s half naked in the back seat of the car, he’s in the front smoking a joint.”
“Christ.” Bailey was disgusted. “Good thing the scum’s already dead.”
“Yeah, glad someone bumped off the miserable oxygen thief.” For once, Jack couldn’t agree more with Tilford.
“What did she do then?” Jack asked.
“She’s groggy, but knows damn well what happened. She yells at him, accuses him of slipping drugs in her drink. He denies it, says she wanted it too. She threatens to turn him in to the cops. Puts her clothes on and gets the hell out of there.”
“Where were they parked?” Jack said.
“Way in the back of the Walmart parking lot on Avenue H. Kelly runs off a ways, hides behind a pick up and calls her roommate. Sees Todd drive off. The friend comes and they head for their apartment near the hospital.”
“Did she ever report him?”
“No, chickened out. Roommate tells her not to shower and go to the ER and report it, get a rape kit. But Kaplan said he’d used a condom, which she could kinda tell, you know Jack—”
“Spare me the female graphics, Tilford. I get the drift. But there would still be some evidence.”
“Yeah, that’s what her roomie says, but Kelly can’t face the humiliation of having her family and friends know, and the asshole could argue it was consensual.”
“Not if they found rohypnol in a tox screen. But she’d need the test soon after ingesting it. Don’t know how long the drug stays in the system.”
“Yeah,” Tilford said. “A few days later she goes to Reed, the restaurant manager, and asks him to schedule her to work different hours than Kaplan. Reed asks why, and Kelly hints at dating problems and it’s too awkward to be around the guy.”
“What was Todd’s reaction—did he notice her schedule change?”
“Doesn’t say anything to Reed, but pesters Kelly to hook up again, let him make it up to her, bullshit like that. After a few times, she threatens to tell the boss, so he leaves her alone.”
“Wonder if she and Lindsey ever talked.”
“They know each other from work, but Kelly didn’t say anything about other girls being with Todd. She started work after Brooke quit, so didn’t know her.”
Tilford shifted and slowly stood. He sighed. “The old bones ain’t what they used to be.”
“I don’t remember dismissing you.” Jack said.
“That’s all I have.” Tilford looked annoyed. “Not enough?”
“What about alibis. Kelly have family?”
“Workin’ on it.” He dug in his pants pocket for a notebook and flipped it open. “Let’s see, there’s a mom, dad, a couple sisters, one brother who live around here. Several brothers are out of state. Dad’s a security guard at Brazos Mall, Mom’s a cashier at Kroger’s.”
“Okay, check with you tomorrow.” Jack waved Tilford away as if he were a pesky fly.
Twenty minutes later, Moose stuck his head through the open door. “Busy?”
“Nah.” Jack looked up from his computer. “Any luck with Doug Warner’s alibi?”
“Found out he doesn’t have one.” Moose sat down and stretched his legs. “Said he was home at his apartment. No one can verify it.”
“Need to question him further,” Jack said. “That Kaplan scum really did a number on Brooke.”
“I couldn’t track down Brooke’s brother, Bryan. Just his schedule at U of H, and his mom’s address. His cell went to voice mail. Left a message.”
Jack paused. “Hard to track him staying with both the mom and his buds at school. I’ll see if I can pin down Mrs. Warner when he’ll be home.” He admitted he welcomed an excuse to call Terri Warner.
Moose leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Want me to call her, Jack?”
“Rather you help Tilford verify Kelly’s family’s alibis. Hector can question Doug Warner. I’ll call about Bryan. Don’t mind.”
Moose stared at Jack and slowly nodded. “What?” Jack asked.
“Nothing.” Moose smiled. “Nothing at all.”
Jack opened his lower left desk drawer and held up a fifth of Jamesons.
“Want a snort?”
“Too early for me,” Moose chuckled, and watched as Jack poured amber liquid into his White Sox coffee mug.
“Early for me too.” Jack replaced the bottle and took a swig. “But it’s been a hell of a day.”
“Talk,” Moose said, and Jack gave him the short version of the morning’s events at the Warner home. He left out the auburn hair part.
. . . . .
Jack decided to knock off early, which was becoming a habit. He stepped into the parking lot, and was assaulted by a surge of thick swampy air. Felt like walking through pea soup. He sat in his car and fired up the engine and AC. He let the motor run while he dialed Terri Warner’s number. She didn’t pick up, and he left a message that he’d try again tomorrow. He felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of seeing her again. It may have been wiser to let Moose follow up on the brother, but damn, for some reason he wanted to contact her again, even though it scared the hell out of him.
He drove home knowing there was nothing to eat, but that’s what delivery pizza was for. As he pulled into the driveway, the strange car was still parked outside Mrs. Baumgartner’s garage. Hopefully, she wouldn’t see him drive in.
Boone barked frantically as Jack pulled into the garage. He stepped out of the car, and opened the kitchen door. The big hound jumped up on Jack, and bounded toward the yard to relieve himself.
“Let’s get the mail, buddy,” Jack called.
Halfway down the driveway, he heard Baumgartner’s nails-on-the-chalkboard voice. “Mr. Bailey, yoo hoo. You’re home.”
Damn, he didn’t have the strength for her now. He glanced toward her and saw another younger woman walking across the yard with Baumgartner. The dreaded niece.
Jack stopped and waited for them to approach. “Mr. Bailey, I’ve been wanting you to meet my niece, Christina Schroeder. She lives in New Braunfels.” Baumgartner beamed.
Jack nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Christina smiled. “I finally meet the famous Mr. Bailey.” She was slightly taller than her aunt.
A pudgy, brown haired woman, she wore a navy striped knit top and white capris. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears; sunglasses perched atop her head.
Baumgartner wiped her shiny brow with a hanky. “Mr. Bailey, you have to come for dinner. I have a pork loin in the oven and there’s plenty.”
“Oh yes, we’d love to have you,” Christina chimed in.
Jack started toward the mailbox. “Thanks, but I need to catch up on a case.”
�
�Now Mr. Bailey, you can’t work all the time.” He knew the old bag wouldn’t give up.
“No, really—” he said.
“It’s fine, Aunt Erna,” Christina said. “Maybe another time.”
“But you’re leaving tomorrow,” her aunt protested.
Christina took the older woman’s arm. “Come on, it’s fine. Too hot to stand out here.” She turned to Jack. “Nice meeting you, and thanks for keeping her busy.”
He never thought of it that way, but Baumgartner needed to do something besides church groups.
“Have a good trip home.” He turned and headed for the mailbox as the women walked away.
Jack overheard Christina say, “I don’t know how you put up with him. What a rude prick.”
He chortled to himself, and hesitated, wanting to hear more.
“Christina, how you do talk.” Baumgartner chuckled. “He’s a nice man underneath it all.”
Jack felt a twinge of guilt, but he couldn’t face eating with Baumgartner and a strange woman.
She seemed nice enough, but he was too much of a loner; valued his solitude. Couldn’t handle any more on his emotional plate. Then there was Terri Warner.
Jack grabbed his mail, and he and Boone headed for the cool comfort of the house. In the bedroom, he placed his cell-pal holster and Glock 22 into the nightstand drawer, tossed off his clothes, and replaced them with a Bears T-shirt, sweat pants, and his favorite Walmart flip flops. He tossed Boone a milk-bone biscuit on his way to the fridge, where he grabbed a Sam Adams and popped off the cap. In the living room, he settled into his recliner and took a long swig. His cell buzzed as he reached for the remote. He took the phone from his pocket and read ‘Clemons’ on the caller ID. Who the hell—oh yeah, the new shrink.
He clicked the cell on. “Jack Bailey.”
A woman’s voice informed him Dr. Clemons had a cancellation tomorrow at 3:00, and would Jack like the spot?
His first reaction was no. He wasn’t ready, hadn’t planned what to say. But his brain told him the sooner the better to get peace and control in his life. He paused. “Okay, I’ll be there.” His voice, flat.
