by Keene, Susan
Amy tried to calm him down.
After much talking, he said he would move out of the motel parking lot and wait for us in a park-by-the-hour lot across the street. We talked on the way there.
“Don Wright is sure his wife meets her lover every Tuesday afternoon at three at the Sunshine Motel,” she said. “The fact that she’s there now throws his theory out the window. Grab the camera from under your seat will you?”
Amy was driving her truck. She loved that truck. Digger was in the back. He sat in an over-the-seat carrier. It allowed him to look out the window without standing up and getting nose juice on the glass--modern technology.
I couldn’t keep my frustrations hidden. “I hate cases like this. Wish we could just try to find Lizzy and give Don and his problems to someone else. Unfortunately, Lizzy’s case won’t pay the bills.”
“Speaking of paying the bills, I sent the check for rent, and they sent it back. The note with it said the building now belonged to someone else, and we have to talk to him or her about the new rent. The note said the new owners would contact us in the near future.” Amy hated disarray. “Hope it isn’t somebody who’s going to jack it up on us, or wait several months and evict us because we’re behind.”
“Can they do that?” I wasn’t a money aficionado.
“I don’t know.”
“I think we both need to think more positive. What’s Wright driving?” I asked.
“A 2002 Dodge Ram, black.”
“Anyway, back to his wife. This is going to work out better. We missed her yesterday on her regular day, and now we won’t have to wait a week to settle it.” That was me, being more positive.
Amy didn’t seem to believe me. “I guess.”
“What does she look like?” I asked.
Amy handed me a picture of a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair, thirty pounds overweight, and supporting a tanning booth tan.
I handed back the picture. “This is a joke, right?”
“Come on. We all know love is blind.”
“Is this all we have today? Because we need to spend some time trying to find Lizzy.”
“I agree.” Amy put her hand on mine in a rare show of affection. Her nails flashed with polish supporting American flags on each tip. “What can I do to help?”
“Really?”
“Of course, I loved Michael too. I think if we can find your friend Lizzy, we can find out what happened to the other three.”
This conversation was one I wanted to pursue, but we were pulling up to the lot where Don waited in his jacked-up, over-compensating, kick-ass Dodge Ram four-by-four, complete with mud flaps and KC lights. What any man needed with a truck like that in the city of St. Louis escaped me. I saw Amy shake her head.
I got out and walked over to the driver’s side window. Inside sat a wiry fellow of about sixty. He had a full head of dyed black hair and wore a western shirt and jeans. I tapped on the window and scared the begeebees out of him. He put his window down--power, of course.
The Wrights had been married thirty-six years, had seven grown children, and Peggy didn’t work outside the home. Until about six weeks ago, she didn’t go out much, except to garden club and an occasional lunch with the girls. Don needed to know what was going on. He didn’t think he could survive without Peggy. I told him to go on back to the farm, and we would call him with what we found out. He gave me a strange look and told me he worked for Version Wireless as a CPA. Go figure.
After we pulled onto the lot of the beautiful completely remodeled--according to the sign--Starlight Motel. Amy and I made a big fuss pretending to look at a map. We pointed in different directions, in case Mrs. Wright noticed us. She didn’t. She pulled up in front of the motel office in her bright blue minivan and went inside. Almost immediately, she came out again with a key in her hand, got back in the van, and drove to room 112, ground floor, and shut off the vehicle. She didn’t get out.
After almost ten minutes another minivan showed up and out popped three other women who were dead ringers for Peggy, one was shorter, two were heavier, they all carried suitcases with wheels, and large handbags. Amy spotted a Michael Kors. I wouldn’t know a Michael Kors from a Michael Jackson. Mrs. Wright unlocked the room and everyone piled in.
Strange.
Even stranger was the arrival of five more Peggy clones, two in vans and one alone in a Lexus. All of them went in room 112.
We sat waiting for something to happen and it did. About an hour into the meeting or whatever it was, Domino’s pizza showed up with six pizzas and three other bags of food.
Maybe it was an orgy--a food orgy. Amy snapped pictures of each woman as she entered the room, along with the driver of the delivery van and the enormous bags of food. Jeez.
I decided to talk to the delivery driver. After getting all that food, I didn’t think they were going to leave the room anytime soon.
“Hey, buddy, want to earn ten dollars.”
“Depends.”
Kids today. When I was his age, ten dollars could buy a lot of stuff.
“Nothing illegal, just wondering what those ladies are doing.” I pointed to the door that just closed behind him.
“Sure, then. It’s not like they tip much. Each one gives me a dollar, like it’s a lot of money, and they expect me to set the food out on the table and open the pizza boxes.”
He stood there. It dawned on me he wanted the money before he gave me the information. Not that I blamed him. I dug in my pocket and handed him a crumbled up bill.
“I think they’re scrapbooking. My mom does that and it looks the same as what they’re doing.”
“No kidding. Have you seen them before?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re here every week. I think it is a club. They read minutes and say the Pledge of Allegiance to a little flag they tape on the wall.”
“I wonder why they meet here,” I said aloud.
“I know that too.” He held out his hand and I placed a five-dollar bill in his palm.
“They used to meet at their church, but they felt like they couldn’t talk freely about the things they wanted to because the priest kept dropping in and sometimes he stayed the entire meeting. He ate and drank with them, and they couldn’t talk about their husband and kids like they wanted. One of their nephews manages this place, and he doesn’t charge them because they don’t use the towels or mess up the room. You’d think, with all the money they save, they could tip me better.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”
I jogged back to our car and hopped in. “You’re going to love this. Seems Peggy and her friends are scrapbooking in there. They do it every week. They don’t like the atmosphere at the church where they usually meet.”
“No kidding?”
“Yep, I think this is the easiest money we have ever made.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me, too.”
We laughed and giggled all the way back to the office. The hard work came trying not to crack up while Amy gave her report to Mr. Wright.
Now, we had to go back to things that were more serious. Laughing felt so good, I vowed to have more laughter in my life, and why not?
CHAPTER 15
T he entire time we were on the Wright case, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I reminisced of a time when there were no cell phones to keep us from filling our moments with what was actually going on, so whenever possible, I ignored mine.
This, however, did not go away. It was Ryan. He had called twice and left two voice mails.
“You rang?” I tried to keep my good mood as long as I could, but, although he hadn’t said anything yet, I knew something was wrong.
“Do you know what happened on November 14, 2008? I’ll tell you this much, something major happened that I didn’t think any of us would ever forget.” His voice caught with emotion.
“What, what?”
“It was the night the Jump Club burned.”
“Jeez? No kidding? How could I forget? Where
are you?”
“I’m at the house, getting ready to go over to Andy’s and spend some time with Amber and the kids.”
I felt I needed to be of some kind of help. “Want me to go with you?”
“I think she would appreciate that. Besides, we need to talk about that night. Most of us were there, me, you, Andy, Michael, Roomy, Lizzy, Tim, and Sarah. The only one who didn’t go was Danny. He had gone to Seattle to a reunion of his Marine buddies.”
“Do you think the others are in danger?”
“We can’t be sure it’s the central event causing all of this, but it sure makes sense, and it explains four of the numbers on the fortune, date of the fire, and your badge number.”
“Yes, yes, it does.” I didn’t say anything else.
“Okay, I am on my way over. Be there in about twenty minutes.”
We hung up.
Memories of the night the Jump Club burned rushed into my mind. It was a scene of mass hysteria fueled by loud music, over-crowding, locked exits, drunk patrons, and smoke--so much smoke.
Michael had a date with a girl named Lori Morgan. I remember because she reminded me of the country singer, Lori Morgan. She was petite, pretty, funny, likeable and, most vivid in my mind, she didn’t make it out of the club. I was there with Ryan, Lizzy, Roomy, and Andy. We were showing our support to Michael and his new girl. No, I wasn’t jealous. At the time, Mike was just one of the guys, and I didn’t want to date any of the guys.
After the tragedy, I got to know him better. Lori’s death devastated him. Not because he loved her but because he took her on a date and didn’t get her home safely. That horrible fire haunted my nights for years and popped into my memory daily for several more. How could I not put it together? Forty-nine people died in the fire.
Oh my gosh!
Forty-nine, another number from the note. Now I was sure fifty-two was my badge, which I threw around a lot that night, trying to find the others, and because I was young and inexperienced. I couldn’t figure out what twenty-six represented, but it would come out. Had we all done our jobs, maybe Andy would still be alive, and Lizzy would be in her studio, painting another half-million-dollar picture.
When I heard Ryan buzz the intercom, I had relived most of that night in my head. I didn’t want to be interrupted. I wanted to go through it systematically, but it would have to wait.
“Hi, I’ll be right down.”
All I could do when the elevator door opened and I saw him standing there was to run to him and bury my head in his shoulder.
CHAPTER 16
R yan and I spent several hours with Amber and the kids. Her and his mothers were both there. They seemed happy to disappear into the kitchen together while we visited with the widow. Ryan gave the kids baths and took them in to their grandmothers for a snack before he read them a story and put them to bed. I could tell he had spent a lot of time with them because they were at ease. He was godfather to all three--Art, three; Allen, four; and Allison, five. They were too young for this to sink in. They were sad because Daddy went to live with God in heaven. Of course, they had no idea what the long-term implication of that entailed.
I drifted off a second and thought about Michael. After he died, I could comprehend what it meant, but I didn’t know what it meant long term. Death had a way of making children out of us all.
When we left, Ryan drove to his house. The early spring night air smelled cool and fragrant. He thought a walk would make us feel better. The peepers sang in the trees, an owl hooted from the top of a giant oak. Anyone who talked about the stillness of the night had never spent much time outside.
In reality, the sounds were deafening--one only needed to listen.
Before we arrived, my phone rang. Roger Simon began talking as soon as I said hello.
“I have some news on your friend Elizabeth Smith. We found her car in a chop shop downtown. According to the men who were systematically taking it apart, they found it on the east side with all of the windows broken out. Her purse--minus her billfold, money, and credit cards--was found inside.”
“We’ll be right there.”
“No need. It’s not here yet. The crime scene is in Illinois, and they will process the car. You can’t touch it until they release it, and they probably won’t so long as Lizzy is missing. The officer in charge promised to email me a report as soon as he gets it ready. I’m sorry, Kate, it’s not a good sign for your friend.”
“No, no it isn’t. Thanks, Roger.”
“My pleasure to help and I’m sorry about the news.”
I hung up and stared at my phone.
“I heard most of it,” Ryan patted my hand. “This changes everything.”
“How? She’s still contacting us with leads!”
“Is she, or is someone playing with us, luring us with vague facts to shift us into a position where we are vulnerable.”
I couldn’t make the connection. “Why Lizzy?”
“Maybe we should explore that.”
“What do you mean?”
“What does Lizzy do or have that would make someone hold her indefinitely yet keep letting her give us clues about what is going on?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I need more time with my memory bank and perhaps some notes to remind me of where everyone was that night.” I leaned back heavily in the seat and fought back the tears. I hated when I did this. I made me look small and weak. My entire life, when I got angry or frustrated, the tears flowed.
Ryan pulled the truck into his garage. “I brought you here to go for a walk. It’s peaceful and quiet. Let’s go for that walk. Sometimes the fresh air makes a difference in my clarity.”
Clarity, the word I used earlier when I needed to think.
The cool crisp night air hit me in the face and forced me to draw a deep breath. Ryan walked on my left, holding my hand. It felt right. The gardens smelled wonderful. He had just enough light along the paths so I could see the flowers tucked into themselves for the night. We strolled in a pleasant silence for a while. I began to feel refreshed and clearer, and then I saw it.
A small round red dot.
It rose and fell in the center of Ryan’s chest as he breathed. Oh no, not again! He noticed it a second after I did and shoved me to the ground, throwing himself on top of me. A shot rang out, then another. He raised enough to let me scramble out from under him and hide behind a clump of bushes to my left. Before I had time to wonder about his safety, he slid in beside me.
I drew my gun from my raincoat pocket and saw Ryan reach behind his back to get the nine-millimeter Makarov he wore in his belt. Whoever shot at us had several advantages--the cover of the flowers and trees, the light of the moon, and they knew where we were. We knew nothing.
“Are you okay?” He looked around as he talked.
“Yes, and you?”
“I’m not happy. I pushed the alarm on my phone back there and this place should light up like a ball field during a game in a second. My security guys will be here soon.”
It was encouraging, yet not.
I saw the dot again. This time it hovered on my right shoulder. The shooter, now on the other side of us, had a clear shot. Ryan fired in the direction of the laser sight as I scrambled to the other side of the bushes. Two more shots zinged by, and the place got as bright as sunlight. Four men came charging at us from the different directions. They were Ryan’s men, and I all but passed out from relief.
It had been a long time since someone shot at me, and now I had been a target twice in the same week. No one shot at Kate Nash, PI, and I liked it that way. I could hear the sirens screaming through the night heading toward us. I slumped against the nearest tree to catch my breath.
Things got chaotic fast. Roger Simon came out of nowhere and knelt by my side. I wanted to stand but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Something about seeing the red dot on my shoulder allowed the picture of Michael’s face to flash before my eyes. The whole thing unnerved me. I knew now none of us were safe. We needed t
o get Andy’s funeral over with and get the others back to their respective cities before something else happened. I wondered if anything could save them. I had to keep in mind they were not at the Jump Club the night of the fire.
Ryan acted as if someone shot at him every day of the week. He barked orders to his men who ran off to search the grounds. In the spirit of cooperation, they called over a local city cop every time they found something.
Of course, the shooter had cleared out and all he left behind was a few .243 shell casings, the same as the first time.
CHAPTER 17
T he next morning, Amy and I were at the office having our usual breakfast only we were not alone. Officers from St. Louis’s finest were outside the building and one of Ryan’s men stood near the door. Did it make me feel safe? No.
The memory of the laser on Ryan and me appeared each time I closed my eyes. I found myself looking out the windows for any signs of a sniper. Now I wished we had added blinds to the front windows.
My office was even worse. We were in a small shopping mall. The office had a back security door with one window that opened to the back alley. It had bars on it but one could shoot through bars. I stayed out front with Amy.
After two trips to Ryan’s in less than a week, I had been shot at twice. What did that tell me? Stay away from Ryan’s. Ryan and Roger wanted us to cancel all of our appointments with new people. Problem was, we didn’t know anyone until we got a case. Aside from a few repeat offenders, everybody was new. We chose to go on with our day as planned. Ryan had a bodyguard but that didn’t ease my mind either. All someone needed was a good scope and a high-powered rifle to ruin a life.
“Kate.” Ryan wanted my attention. I glanced his direction. “We need to talk.”
“What?” I couldn’t keep the tenor of my voice as soft as I had intended.
“This has gone on long enough. We need to sit down and go over that night minute by minute. We need to find out who was where, who talked to who, and who it trying to kill us.”