Vanessa, Pepper, and Emma headed off along the path that bordered the shore of New Forest Lake. Thrilled to be out on a beautiful mid-June morning, Pepper was in a fine mood. Actually, it made them all feel good.
They ran hard to, as Vanessa had said, clear their heads. They didn’t try to converse along the way. On the north cove of the lake, there was a three-sided forester’s hut with a bench facing the water. It was rustically built with cedar wood and smelled delicious. Red-faced from two miles of running, they collapsed on the bench. Pepper was panting, too.
“What a spectacular day!” Emma declared.
“It sure is, but, I have to say, it does nothing to make me stop thinking about Deb. I miss her so much already. I just can’t get her out of my mind. She was such an awesome friend. I really loved that girl.”
“Ditto,” Emma said sincerely. But, when she thought that wasn’t quite enough, she added, “I loved her, too.”
“I read about your calling in the state police. I hope that takes some of the pressure off.”
“Actually, it does. I feel strangely relieved, like everything isn’t crushing onto my shoulders.”
Then, Emma told her about her encounter with Dick Wardlaw at Lizard’s Lounge.
Vanessa bumped fists with her. “You go, girl! It’s about time someone nailed that perv. I’m so proud of you. It must make you feel great.”
“It was more than worth it, even if it costs me my job.”
“The perv can’t fire you. You’ve got that tape. If that’s not sexual harassment, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Emma said. “I don’t think threats faze Mayor Wardlaw.”
“So, what’s next?”
“That I can answer. Without having to devote all my time to the Ethan and Deb cases, I intend to find Will. After I’ve found him, I will either clear his name or I will arrest him.”
“Wow.”
Emma laughed mirthlessly. “Although it might end up being a citizens’ arrest.”
Vanessa frowned, suddenly serious. “Can I tell you something? Maybe something to do with Will? I don’t have any proof, but I have the strangest feeling that someone is watching me.”
“Shit, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Like I said, it’s just a feeling. I can’t tell whether I’m so freaked about Deb that I’m imagining it.”
“I’ll pass the word to patrol, get them to check on your house every time they’re in the neighborhood.”
Anxiously, Vanessa asked, “Do you think that will be enough? I mean, has it ever occurred to you that I might be the next one to die? Don’t laugh at me. I’m not being melodramatic. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. You already said that you are the connection between Ethan and Deb. Well, I’m a friend too. What if Will is crazy? I’m not necessarily saying he is, but, don’t forget, he did have that creepy depression. What if he comes after me?”
“Do you really think that Will is going around killing people?”
“Not to be a creep, but who’s doing the killings is not as important to me as not being killed. Look, I’m sorry, I know how upset you are about Will—”
“No offense taken. You have every right to be scared. I have an idea. Why don’t I move into your house until the dust settles?” Emma smiled. “I have a gun and a badge. I could be your live-in bodyguard. Pepper’s no slouch either.”
“If it were my decision, I would say yes right now. But Dave is kind of set in his ways. He doesn’t really like it when people stay over.”
Emma said, “You haven’t told him your suspicions, have you?”
“No, and I don’t intend to. Dave is an actuary. He would go berserk. He’d probably move us to Cleveland.”
Emma smiled and looked at her watch. “I’ve got to head home.”
They ran back around the other side, the west shore of the lake.
Back at the parking lot, the two friends hugged.
Emma said, “Stay safe, sweetie. If you change your mind about me moving in, give me a holler. Meantime, I’ll be looking out for you every way I can.”
The message light was blinking on Emma’s answering machine. There were two messages. She pressed Play. Mark Byrne was inquiring about her well-being. He reiterated his offer to help her find Will. The second message was—no surprise—from Dick Wardlaw. He said that he would be in his office at Town Hall between 3:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. “I expect to see you, in person, in that timeframe.”
Emma found one of Pepper’s rope chew toys. She played tug-of-war with her until she became too tired to play anymore. Before making herself lunch, she refilled Pepper’s water bowl. Pepper was still thirsty after the run and the tug-of-war bonanza.
Emma took her sandwich and an icy beer into the backyard, where she sat in the shade of maple tree. Pepper lay nearby, exposed her tummy to the sun, and promptly fell asleep.
In spite of the bumper car ride of the last two months, Emma felt surprisingly good. The weather made her feel even better. She lay back in her lounge chair. She worried for a few minutes about Vanessa before falling asleep with Pepper. She had another Will-dream.
She first spotted Will in the parking lot of the old bowling alley on Spruce Street, now shuttered. They had bowled more than a few frames there in the old days. Will got into an expensive looking sports car. She couldn’t read the model, because he quickly drove away. She tailed him straight to Deb Barger’s house … into the house … and into Deb’s bedroom. Deb, who was dressed in a sheer baby doll outfit, greeted him as if they were lovers. Watching from the doorway, Emma saw her leer at Will.
Deb said, “Come to bed with me. Emma will never be the wiser.”
“No,” Will said, “I can’t do that to Emma. I don’t want to hurt her. She looked after me when I was sick. I owe her.”
“I always knew you were a putz, Will Foster. What do you care what Emma thinks?”
“Oh, but I do.”
When Will left Deb’s bedroom, her smooth neck was unharmed and blood-free.
Emma was no longer in the shade. She awoke, feverish and sweaty, and she remembered every detail of her dream.
Wasn’t this a good omen? she thought absurdly.
She went to take a sip of her beer, but the bottle was empty. She tossed it aside.
Suddenly, Emma remembered the meeting with Dick Wardlaw. Her watch read 3:30 p.m. Damn! She went up to her bedroom to change into her dress uniform. A moment later, she flipped a switch. Why proffer the respect he didn’t deserve? She pulled on a pair of faded shorts and a T-shirt.
Leaving Pepper shut up in the house, Emma drove to Town Hall. Wardlaw’s secretary was there, which surprised her. It was Sunday afternoon.
The secretary said, “Please wait, Chief, the Mayor is not ready for you.”
Without comment, Emma took a seat on the sofa in a small waiting area. She stared at a cactus in a bowl on the coffee table and cooled her heels. A petty power play on Wardlaw’s part. Twenty minutes later, the secretary’s phone buzzed, and she could clearly hear Dick say to send her in.
She stood, opened the door to Dick’s office, and marched in. Taking a sheet from Mark Byrne’s playbook, she sat without being asked.
Dick was pretending to study some papers on his desk, and he did not lift his head. Emma looked around the over-decorated office. Antique furniture, chintz curtains, and a faux Persian carpet. Farrokhzad Oriental Rugs in The Lincoln Mall, she guessed. Tax-payer-paid.
After ten silent minutes, Wardlaw addressed her.
“You were very unpleasant last night. I won’t forget that, but that is not why I called you to come in.”
Emma said nothing.
“Are you taping this conversation?”
“No, I am not.”
“I don’t give a shit if you are,” he said. “Recordings do not scare me.”
“It’s your behavior that should scare you.”
Angrily, Wardlaw said, “Don’t fuck with me. I’m warning you.”
“You’re wasting my time. Why don’t you get to the point?”
Wardlaw leaned back in his chair. The corners of his mouth turned down in an ugly sneer. His yellow polo shirt was tucked into his trousers so tightly that his belly looked like he was carrying triplets.
“The point, eh?” he resumed. “Okay, I’ll get to the point. Sergeant Weeks briefed me on the text you received from your husband. This raises a very specific problem, which I’m sure has occurred to you, too. If Will Foster is now a person of interest in these two dreadful murders, then you have a serious conflict of interest—”
Emma had already guessed how this meeting would end, but she surprised herself by feeling down-right cheery about it.
“I agree,” she said.
“Oh, you do, huh?” he said, not concealing his irritation.
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you agree about this, then? You’re fucking fired!”
“Shall I surrender my badge and my gun to the Acting Chief?”
“How do you know who’s gonna get the job?”
Emma smiled.
“You know what your problem is? You are an insufferable, arrogant fucking bitch!” he bellowed.
Emma closed the door behind her.
34
Ka-ching!
Call me brilliant.
This morning, I have decided to follow Dave Mack instead of Vanessa. Right now, he is in his office at The Hurley Insurance Agency. I patiently wait for him across the street. I will be here all day if necessary. I am wearing a brimmed hat, wraparound sunglasses, and a light windbreaker. I figure that makes me pretty hard to recognize. Pretty inconspicuous, too.
Today, by the way, is Monday, the twenty-first of June.
The summer solstice or, as some like to call it, the estival solstice (meaning “of or pertaining to summer”) occurs when Earth’s rotational axis, or geographical pole, is most inclined toward the Sun. Today, in Hampshire, at 11:17 a.m., the Sun will reach its highest position in the sky when its axial tilt is precisely 23.44°.
At 11:08 a.m., nine minutes before the solstice, Dave walks out the front door of the Hurley Agency. I thought that I would have to wait at least until lunchtime. Maybe he takes an early lunch. I follow him down the street. He is wearing a brown suit and a brown tie. I mean, who wears a brown suit? Dave steps into a storefront. The sign above the entrance reads Gulliver’s Travels. What a lame name. And, anyway, who uses a travel agency these days?
I wait on the sidewalk a few doors down, ready to slip into a diner so he doesn’t see me when he comes out. He’s inside for about fifteen minutes.
After he leaves the travel agency, I step out of the diner and enter the travel agency myself. I have never been inside before. I would arrange my trips on the Internet if I went anywhere.
A stout woman in a dowdy, floral dress greets me like we’re old friends. She’s wearing a name tag, which says Helen.
“Good morning,” she chirps, “and how may I help you today?”
“I’d like to book a flight out of Bradley to LAX for tomorrow. First class.”
She gets even friendlier. Everyone knows that a first-class flight, booked at the last minute, costs a fortune.
While she’s tapping away at her computer, I say, “Wasn’t that Dave Mack I saw leaving just before I came in?”
“Yes, it was. He’s an old customer, a good friend to Gulliver’s Travels.”
“Where’s Dave heading off to?” I ask casually.
“He’s taking the kids to Cincinnati to visit his mother next weekend.”
“Vanessa didn’t mention that she was going away.”
Helen looked up from her computer. “Oh, she’s not going. Dave’s taking them by himself. Just three tickets.”
Ka-ching! A window of opportunity gapes.
Before Helen can ask for my credit card and personal details, I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Whoops,” I say, “I’m so sorry. I have to take this outside. It’s rather personal. Back in a sec.”
Poor Helen, another commission surrendered to the modern world.
I want to be fully up-to-speed for my week-end rendezvous with Vanessa. At dusk, I return to her house for more reconnoitering.
Dave is the kitchen table reading his Kindle. Vanessa is cleaning up after dinner. Dick and Jane are watching television in the living room. I’m grateful for a white-bread family with a predictable routine. I look forward to the weekend.
There’s no point in sticking around. I return home, feeling optimistic and lucky.
I carefully set the table for tomorrow’s breakfast. In the living room, I push Guide on the remote, searching for a relaxing crime drama.
I settle on a rerun of “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.” Mariska Hargitay, who plays Olivia Benson is wearing a tight T-shirt. She has great tits, which I study. Did you know that she is the daughter of Jayne Mansfield, who also had a pretty good set of knockers? Soon I tire of the show—it’s another rape plot, which holds little interest for me (although I wouldn’t mind a piece of Mariska)—and turn the television off. Rape is a crime of cowardice, perpetrated by men who are mentally defective. Rape has none of the finesse of murder.
My thoughts drift to Stella. I’m conflicted about our relationship. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I know she loves me and is wholly dependent on me, but I’m beginning to think that she might serve me better in another way. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am.
After I have the pleasure of dispatching Vanessa, I will have the time and energy to re-focus on Sergeant Stella Weeks.
35
A Continental Seven
Emma Thorne Fired
Stella Weeks Named Acting Chief
Stella must’ve gotten her leak to the Chronicle on Sunday night, because Virginia Hobson’s front-page story ran in Monday morning’s paper. Emma found nothing surprising in the piece. Words and music by Stella Weeks.
Emma felt none of the rage that she had felt when Hobson’s first story came out. She was oddly unperturbed. The duo of Wardlaw and Weeks no longer held sway over her worries.
She gestured to Pepper, who trotted over. She put the knuckles of each of her index fingers into Pepper’s ear canals and gently corkscrewed her knuckles. Pepper moaned.
“It’s just you and me, girl. We’re on summer vacation, the permanent kind. Let’s use the time wisely. Let’s find Will.”
Pepper wagged her tail in agreement.
They drove to headquarters through a rainstorm. Emma found Stella already sitting behind Archie’s old desk.
“Okay if I clear out a few personal things?” Emma said. She’d brought a box with her. Pepper ignored Stella as she always did.
“Of course.” Stella stood up and moved to the side of the desk. “Look, Emma, just want you to know that this had nothing to do with me. Actually, I’m sorry for you.”
“No, you’re not,” Emma said happily.
Stella, clearly taken aback, didn’t say anything for a moment. She probably expected a more chastened Emma.
But, true to form, Stella quickly bared her fangs. “You’re right. That was a lie. What happened here is easily explained. Competence trumps incompetence. Fortunately, that’s the way Dick Wardlaw saw it, too. And, be advised, no one is going to miss you around here.”
“I wish I could say the same thing, but that’s a discussion we’d better save for another day.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Stella said.
Emma withdrew her service weapon and her badge from her handbag. She popped the magazine and laid all three items on the desk.
“I hope that being chief gives you a measure of happiness. I know it is what you have always wanted. If you don’t mind my saying so, you have too much hate in your heart to ever be truly happy. I wish you the best. Good luck to you, Stella.”
After leaving headquarters, Emma swung by Hampshire Trust to see if she could tempt Vanessa to join her for lunch. Emma found her in her branch manager
’s office. Vanessa said she could get to Group Therapy in three-quarters of an hour.
Emma decided to use the forty-five minutes for a leisurely walk. She strolled the familiar streets of her hometown and thought about her future. She might not be chief of police anymore, but that was not going to stop her from continuing her various investigations. She would miss the resources of the police department, but not being in charge of the Mr. Sharpie case give her a new-found freedom. She felt okay.
Emma arrived at Group Therapy at the same moment Vanessa did. They found their favorite booth at the back while Pepper patrolled the restaurant/bar looking for customers she knew.
Vanessa’s first question was, “What are you doing in civvies?”
Emma chuckled. “That’s a long story. Actually, not true, it’s pretty short.”
“Tell me.”
They were interrupted by Phil, who greeted them and took their lunch orders. Instead of her usual iced tea, Emma ordered a bottle of Chardonnay. Vanessa giggled. “I’ll have to buy some mints before going back to work.”
Emma continued when Phil went back behind the bar, “So you didn’t see today’s newspaper?”
“No, I was getting stuff ready for the kids. They’re going away this weekend. You know how I like to be prepared! Actually, I want to talk to you about that trip, but you start.”
“A trip, huh?” Emma paused. “Okay, I’ll start. Wardlaw fired me.”
“Oh, you poor dear, after all that’s happened.” She paused for a moment. “Actually, I’m happy for you. That was a sucky job.”
Emma laughed. “I thought you told me that I looked hot in uniform.”
Vanessa said, “Actually, it was Deb who said that.”
Then, Emma told her about having to surrender her badge and gun to Stella.
“That sucks, too.”
“It’s funny,” Emma said thoughtfully, “it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. Not to be trite, but it feels like I’m turning the page to a new chapter. And I’m feeling good about it.”
“That’s great to hear, sweetie. I’m really happy for you. You deserve it. Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you use your free time to nail Dick Wardlaw, get him charged with sexual harassment and send him to jail. You’ve got him on tape. Nobody likes him anyway. Incidentally, Dave has a friend in the state prosecutor’s office. I’m sure Dave could help set up a meeting.”
Ever So Silent Page 17