She was Dying Anyway

by P. D. Workman

  “What… what are you doing here?” Zachary asked, fumbling his words. “I thought… what?”

  Stanley scratched his ear, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. “After you told me about Robin’s death… I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I wanted to reconnect with Rhys, see if I could help him out. I was very close to the family, once. If Robin hadn’t been so…” Stanley looked over at Vera. “…uh, so volatile…”

  Vera nodded. She looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t Stanley’s fault,” she reassured Zachary. “He was never the one who started things.”

  Zachary nodded. “I know. I read the police incident reports. That’s when it all came together.”

  They were all silent, not sure where to go next.

  “I’m sorry about scaring you that night,” Stanley said, looking down in embarrassment. “I never meant to freak you out. You weren’t even supposed to see me.”

  “Why would you even come by?” Zachary asked. “Why didn’t you just call me? Set up a meeting? Or email me?”

  “I didn’t really know what else to say to you. I didn’t want to leave things where they were… I realized that you thought I was abusive toward Robin, when that wasn’t the way things were. I wanted to straighten things out. But what could I say?” Stanley gave a shrug. “Here I am this big guy… who’s going to believe that Robin was the aggressor? Or that I couldn’t make her stop?”

  Zachary thought about Mrs. Phipps at Ptarmigan House, one of the group homes he had been in. She was a little, wizened old woman with a bad leg, but she could whale the hell out of a boy with her cane if she caught him disobeying the rules. At fourteen, even with his stunted growth, Zachary had been bigger than she was, and logic dictated she was the one who should fear him. But the thunk of her cane on the floor and the drag of her bad leg was all it took to send his heart racing wildly, even if he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong. Especially if he didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

  “It’s okay,” he told Stanley. “I get it.”

  “I was trying to think things through. Sometimes… I have to physically go somewhere to make sense of a thing. I thought if I was there, where you lived… I could figure it out. Decide what to do next.”

  Like Zachary’s compulsions to drive by Bridget’s house. Even though he couldn’t see her car in the garage and couldn’t see if she were sleeping soundly in the house, it comforted him to be there. He had to go by there to settle his brain down and reassure himself she was okay. Nothing else would work. He had gone to Bridget’s the same night as Stanley had come to his apartment, both of them driven to put themselves in a specific place to work through their thoughts.

  “I get it. Sometimes… you just have to do something.”

  Zachary looked up when he heard another set of approaching feet, and this time it was Rhys’s familiar lanky figure. Rhys gave a little wave and a nod to Zachary. He stood there looking at Zachary, then looked at his grandmother.

  “Rhys wanted to see you,” Vera said. “He wanted to thank you for helping him. For finding him and saving him and Bridget.”

  Zachary met Rhys’s eyes and nodded. Rhys still looked sad, but there was something looser and more comfortable about him. Like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  “Thank you for helping me to find you,” Zachary told Rhys. “And for helping Bridget. She would have died if you hadn’t helped look after her.” Zachary swallowed. He wasn’t sure he could express to Rhys how much Bridget meant to him and how much he appreciated what the boy had done. Faced with being loyal to his mother or with helping a woman he’d never even met before, Rhys had done what was right, even though it meant his mother had to go to jail.

  Rhys nodded. He held out a hand to Zachary and they shook.

  “I tried to do the right thing for our family,” Vera said quietly. “When Clarence died… it felt like the most important thing to do was to shelter Robin from the consequences. I couldn’t bear to think that she could go to prison for what she had done. She really wasn’t well.” Vera looked over at Rhys. “I guess… that’s what I told myself. It was something she couldn’t control. But…” She grimaced. “She could have, couldn’t she? She made her choices. And we chose to protect her.”

  Rhys gave a shrug. Not an ‘it doesn’t matter’ shrug, but one that said that what was done was done. They couldn’t undo the past.

  “How are you, Rhys?” Zachary asked, searching Rhys’s face for the answer. “Are you okay?”

  Rhys cleared his throat. He looked at his grandma for reassurance before answering. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  It was a long utterance for him. Zachary took in a deep breath and let the words wash over him.

  Was it?

  Was it going to be okay for Zachary, too? Was he going to be able to get out of the funk he was stuck in and move on?

  There were other cases to be solved, other questions left unanswered. And supper with Kenzie. Rhys was safe with Vera, with Stanley Green around to lend a hand and be there when he needed a man’s guiding hand. Thanks to Rhys, Bridget had survived her ordeal. Zachary couldn’t imagine the darkness he would be in if she hadn’t.

  But Bridget was alive and happy. So Zachary would go on, just as he had before.

  It was gonna be okay.

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  Also by this Author

  Mystery/Suspense:

  Zachary Goldman Mysteries

  She Wore Mourning

  His Hands Were Quiet

  She Was Dying Anyway

  He Was Walking Alone (Coming Soon)

  Auntie Clem’s Bakery

  Gluten-Free Murder

  Dairy-Free Death

  Allergen-Free Assignation

  Witch-Free Halloween (Halloween Short)

  Dog-Free Dinner (Christmas Short)

  Stirring Up Murder

  Brewing Death

  Coup de Glace

  Cowritten with D. D. VanDyke

  California Corwin P. I. Mystery Series

  The Girl in the Morgue

  Looking Over Your Shoulder

  Lion Within

  Pursued by the Past

  In the Tick of Time

  Loose the Dogs

  Young Adult Fiction:

  Tamara’s Teardrops:

  Tattooed Teardrops

  Two Teardrops

  Tortured Teardrops

  Vanishing Teardrops

  Between the Cracks:

  Ruby

  June and Justin

  Michelle

  Chloe

  Ronnie

  Medical Kidnap Files:

  Mito

  EDS

  Proxy

  Toxo (Coming Soon)

  Breaking the Pattern:

  Deviation

  Diversion

  By-Pass

  Stand Alone

  Don’t Forget Steven

  Those Who Believe

  Cynthia has a Secret

  Questing for a Dream

  Once Brothers

  Intersexion

  Making Her Mark

  Endless Change

  Preview of He was Walking Alone

  Zachary was standing staring out his window at the businesses across the street from his apartment building, where an old man with a ladder was stringing up Christmas lights when his phone rang. He was startled out of his trance and just about did a face-plant into the window before he regained his balance.

  He put his hand on the glass to steady himself and pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other. A glance at the screen showed him that it was Mario Bowman, and he
didn’t hesitate to answer it. Since moving out of Bowman’s apartment, the two of them had usually gotten together every couple of weeks for a drink. A year ago, they had been acquaintances, just friendly after the various times they had met while Zachary had worked cases the police were involved in, but after the fire that had destroyed everything Zachary had owned for the second time in his life, that had changed. Bowman had graciously allowed Zachary to stay with him until he got back on his feet, which had turned into months rather than the “few days” they had initially talked about. Bowman had never complained about Zachary being underfoot, and even after Zachary had moved into his own place again, they had continued to get together, cementing the friendship.

  Years before, Zachary had accepted the fact that he would never have any real friends. Moving constantly from one foster family or institution to another, battling with learning disabilities and childhood trauma, he had not found it easy to break into the circles of already-established friendships and had remained on the outside. Not having developed those skills as a child, he had remained a loner as an adult. He’d never expected to have a ‘best friend’ like Bowman.

  “Mario!”

  “Hey, Zach. I didn’t get you up, did I?”

  Zachary pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the time to better compose his answer. After ten o’clock in the morning, a time even night owls were normally up by. “It’s halfway through the day. You know I don’t sleep that late.”

  “I know you don’t usually sleep,” Bowman admitted. “You’re like a vampire. Except, I guess they sleep during the day, and you don’t do that either. You could have been asleep though, if you had some kind of surveillance job last night.”

  “Well, I didn’t. I’ve been up for hours. I thought you had night shift this week; aren’t you heading to bed?”

  “Yeah, I’d better knock off before long. But I have a possible case for you.”

  “Oh! What kind of case?”

  Zachary worked everything from skip tracing and insurance fraud to money laundering and, in a few cases, death investigations. While he was trying to avoid the cheating spouse cases, he always seemed to have a couple of them on his plate.

  “Why don’t we get together later to discuss it? I’ll introduce you to the potential client and you can see what you think.”

  “Uh, sure.” It sounded like a much bigger case than just a background check. “When and where?”

  “Old Joe’s before I go back on shift? Say, seven?”

  Zachary didn’t know how Bowman could eat a steak dinner for what was essentially his breakfast. Zachary had a hard time with heavy meals at the best of times. His meds tended to suppress his appetite, and the most recent mood stabilizer added to his cocktail left him nauseated most of the day. But he knew that dinner at the steakhouse wasn’t about the food. Bowman would enjoy being treated, as Zachary would pick up the tab for a client dinner. Hopefully, his client would feel at ease at the town’s iconic steakhouse. And Zachary was going for the case, not the food.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” He didn’t need to check his calendar. He knew he wouldn’t have anything that couldn’t be moved. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Perfect. See you tonight, then.”

  Zachary thought about it after he hung up. It was late for Bowman to still be up when he would have to be up again at six. He would not get a full eight hours in, and when he was working shift he was very careful to get the sleep he needed so that the wouldn’t get worn out and sick. Despite asking Zachary if he’d been asleep, he knew that Zachary was normally up before dawn and he could have safely called hours before. That suggested that he’d worked past the end of his shift, which meant a big case. If that was what they were having dinner to discuss, Zachary might be looking at quite a profitable file. Something he could really dig his teeth into to help him to forget about the holiday season.

  The man across the street was working diligently at getting his Christmas lights on. They would make a festive display for Zachary in the coming weeks. He drew the curtains to shut out the sight.

  The client who accompanied Bowman was a woman. That was the first surprise. And not just a woman, but an attractive one. At first glance, he would have put her as college age, but on closer inspection, the dim lighting at Old Joe’s had softened the lines of her face. She was probably in her forties, like he was. Taller than Zachary. A dark blonde, rather than the almost-black hair that Zachary kept cropped close to his head. She wore no makeup as far as he could tell, and grief was plain on her face. It was no corporate case. Whatever Bowman had brought him, it was personal.

  “Zach, this is Ashley Morton. Ms. Morton, Zachary Goldman.”

  Zachary shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Morton.”

  “It’s Ashley,” she informed him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. You must have a busy schedule.”

  Zachary glanced over at Bowman to gauge his reply. “I’ve always got cases on the go, but I can make room when something important comes up.”

  She nodded, looking relieved. “Good. Mr. Bowman said you’d be able to fit me in, but…”

  Bowman motioned to an empty booth. “That’s our table, shall we sit down? Did you want a drink, Zach?”

  “No.” Bowman knew he wouldn’t have alcohol for a case meeting. Even when they got together to watch a game, Zachary was mindful of his alcohol consumption.

  They made their way away from the bar to the quiet corner. Bowman and Ashley slid in with their drinks. Zachary sat across from Ashely.

  Bowman took a sip of his beer and talked to Ashley about Zachary’s qualifications. He touched on the cases Zachary had worked in the last year or so that had made it to the media. The drowning of Declan Bond, the only son of local TV celebrity The Happy Artist, the institutional abuses at Summit Learning Center, and the death of Robin Salter. While Robin’s death had not been particularly newsworthy, the subsequent kidnapping of Zachary’s ex-wife, socialite Bridget Downy, had been.

  Ashley nodded solemnly throughout Bowman’s recounting of the cases, her wide eyes going from Bowman to Zachary and back again. She didn’t seem inclined to jump in immediately with her story. They ordered their dinners and discussed the menu for a few minutes. Zachary looked at Bowman, waiting for the signal that it was time to talk about Ashley’s case. Bowman took a long draught of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You want to tell Zachary about Richard’s case?”

  Ashley chewed on her lip.

  “Do you want me to give him the broad strokes?” Bowman prompted.

  She nodded. “That would be good,” she said in a weak, watery voice.

  Zachary hoped she wasn’t going to cry. He was never sure what to do about tears. A lot of the women who engaged him to catch their cheating husbands cried. He had come to realize that the best thing to do in those cases was just to nod and push through for the details. Trying to comfort them didn’t help. It seemed that those tears came from anger rather than sadness, and trying to be sympathetic just caused increased anger and outrage, putting him in the crosshairs in place of their husbands.

  But he didn’t think Ashley’s case was for infidelity. She seemed too brittle, stretched too thin. Grief, not anger.

  “Ashley’s partner, Richard, was the victim of a fatal hit and run,” Bowman said, confirming his suspicion. “It’s a little more difficult to investigate than your usual MVC, since there were no witnesses, no cameras, and the body wasn’t even discovered immediately. That has all made it very difficult for Miss Morton—Ashley—to deal with.”

  Zachary nodded. The waitress had brought him a class of water. He took a sip, waiting for the rest of the story. Bowman sounded confident of the facts, so Zachary suspected he wasn’t looking for Zachary to do an accident scene reconstruction. The police had probably already done their own, or had plans to, depending on how long they’d had to work the case.

  “They’re calling it an accident,” Ashle
y said. “They said the driver isn’t at fault.” She shook her head, sputtering for words. “There’s no way it was accidental.”

  Zachary considered. “What were the conditions? Was there alcohol involved?”

  “All they have is his word for it what time it was. There aren’t any witnesses. No proof. The police couldn’t do a breathalyzer three days later.”

  “No,” Zachary agreed. He pulled a notepad out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I make some notes?”

  She nodded her permission.

  “His name was Richard…?”

  “Harding. Just how it sounds.”

  “And the date of the accident?”

  “Well, we don’t know, do we? All we have is his word for it. And it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Sorry. Incident. When did this allegedly happen?”

  She was mollified and gave him more details. It had been a week since she had seen her boyfriend last and the police suggested that it had been that night he had been killed on the side of a rural highway.

  “But you don’t believe that’s when it happened?”

  “Well… I guess I do. I mean, Richard just dropped off the face of the earth, and that’s not the kind of thing that he did. He was very reliable.”

  “So it probably was that night.”

  She nodded. Zachary wrote down the location and the date. He could look up weather conditions, sunset and sunrise, and any surveillance camera locations later on. The police might have missed something. They were usually pretty thorough, but every now and then, Zachary managed to tease out new information from a suspect or the available evidence.

  “And you didn’t know that anything had happened to him, just that he had disappeared.”

  “I knew something was wrong. I reported him missing in the morning when I woke up, but they said I would have to go to the police station and make a proper missing persons report once he had been missing for twenty-four hours. I know they can start an investigation sooner than that.” She flashed a glare at Bowman.