Scot on the Rocks

by Catriona McPherson

  ‘Is that it?’ Todd asked, wincing.

  I shook my head and read the rest of it. ‘“There are nine more where this came from.”’

  ‘Brandee!’ Bran wailed. ‘Oh, Brandee, ba-aby!’ His voice broke and he fell on Todd’s neck, sobbing like a child. Todd patted and shushed and even smoothed Bran’s sweaty hair back from his face, but all the while with his other hand he was pointing at me and at Bran’s clenched fist, trying to get me to … I don’t know what he was trying to get me to do. Keep it away from his cashmere jumper, maybe?

  It was Kathi who stepped in. ‘Branston?’ she said, in a gentle voice I had never heard her use before. ‘Can you open your hand and let that drop into this baggie I’ve got here? There might be evidence on it. There might be DNA or even fingerprints.’

  I looked away as I saw Bran’s fist start to loosen, then found myself looking back. What is that about us? Why have we got that impulse? You’d think once it had brought us Dr Pimple Popper we would have tried a bit harder to put it out of commission.

  In this instance, the repulsive beast that lives inside didn’t get much of a feast. Barely a snack, actually. Because it wasn’t one of Brandeee’s toes that dropped into Kathi’s outstretched baggie; it was one of her nails. And not even one of her real nails. Just one of her acrylics.

  At least I assumed so. ‘Bran?’ I said. ‘Is that definitely Brandeee’s?’

  He lifted his head and glared at me. ‘Would that matter?’ Good point. ‘But yes it is. We go together. I have a citrus power pedi; Brandee has a butter pedi, a head massage and a spa manicure. She gets all three at the same time so she’s finished when I’m finished. She’s low maintenance.’

  He meant it. It was touching in a funny sort of way.

  ‘And have you called the police?’ Todd said, finally letting Bran go, with one last manly pat on his shoulder. ‘Because this changes everything.’

  ‘I know,’ said Bran. His tone was hard to decipher. It might have been that he didn’t like some other guy telling him things. ‘I haven’t had the chance. I only got it two minutes ago. Come inside and I’ll call them now.’

  Kathi was bagging the note, and Todd was squaring up to Bran for some bizarre male reason, so it looked like I was expected to lead the way, walking back into the Beige Barn, the scene of my downfall, the backdrop to my heartbreak. Besides, even if I had hung around until Todd stopped the chest-beating and Kathi finished the bagging, I knew they’d both find something else to do. Minuscule as the chances were of a dentist living in squalor or of my ex-husband having a tank of tarantulas I’d never mentioned, Todd and Kathi didn’t want to be the first ones across the threshold of a stranger’s house. I forget sometimes what a daily dose of debilitation their conditions are. So, I readied myself for a pang of regret or a wave of nostalgia and opened the door.

  I should have known nostalgia and regret couldn’t survive the beigeness of these floors, walls, ceilings, art, furnishings and fruit accent on the kitchen island. Seriously, there was a bowl of Asian pears set out, as if an estate agent’s stager lived here. The only beige fruit in the world. I was going to be fine.

  Todd led Bran to the pair of stone-coloured couches facing each other across an oatmeal-coloured coffee table – I’m trying to be kind – where a book of photographs celebrating deserts of the world lay open at a double-page picture of a sandscape. Earth tones, inevitably.

  ‘Lexy, you know where everything is,’ Kathi said. ‘Can you get him a glass of water?’

  I did indeed know where the complicated equipment might be found that would allow one to produce a glass with some water in it. Glaring at Kathi, I headed over to the kitchen area, to where the taupe carpet gave way to sepia vinyl. I took a tumbler from one of the ecru cabinets and set it down on the fawn tiles of the worktop.

  But I’m not a monster and Bran really was in a bit of a state, so instead of turning the tap on and starting the inevitable round of carping about the filtered water in the fridge, the exquisite safety of the Cuento water supply, the toddlers in Indonesia dying of dysentery who could be saved for the price of a Brita cartridge … I decided to honour my ancestry and make him a cup of sugary tea. The teabags were where I had left them – the way that Brandeee’s cuticle oil had been where she’d left it when I moved in – and although the kettle was long gone, I microwaved a mugful, telling myself we hadn’t been together long enough for him to find it insulting. There was no sugar, of course, because they’re dentists. But there was honey, because they’re morons, and I stirred in a good big dollop before rejoining the three of them at the couches, where Trinity for Trouble’s first official investigative interview was already underway.

  ‘No, I didn’t hear a car or footsteps,’ Bran was saying. ‘I went to the door because I was looking out for you all arriving. And I looked down and saw the envelope on the mat.’

  ‘Where’s the envelope now?’ Kathi said.

  ‘Recycling,’ said Bran.

  ‘Lexy?’ Kathi was really milking the fact that I knew this place. I went out to the laundry room, leaving the door propped so I could hear what was said, and fished a plain brown envelope out from the top of the paper box, using a sheet of kitchen paper.

  I brought it back and laid it on the coffee table face up. It finished the colour scheme off to a T.

  ‘Hand delivered,’ Todd said. ‘We can ask the neighbours if anyone saw anything.’

  ‘It’s not that kind of neighbourhood,’ I said.

  ‘Not what kind of neighbourhood?’ said Bran, still very upset but recovered just enough to pick me up on a cross word.

  ‘They tend to leave their garages in their Miatas and check texts until they reach the junction with the main road,’ I said. ‘I nearly got mowed down a couple of times when I was out walking.’

  ‘We had a state-of-the-art treadmill for walking on,’ said Bran. ‘And it’s only two blocks to the park for leisure walking, with free two-hour parking. What do you expect?’

  ‘I’m just saying,’ I told him, ‘that the neighbours wouldn’t notice a life-sized unicorn, unless it was selling cookies without a permit. Anyway, you saw the envelope …?’

  ‘Picked it up, opened it, read it and was going back outside to see if I could … I don’t know. For help? To look in case whoever left it was still out there? And you were arriving. What size is a life-sized unicorn anyway, Lexy?’

  He had a point.

  ‘I’m so glad we were arriving,’ said Todd. ‘We can support you. Now, are you ready to call nine-one-one?’

  ‘Would you do it?’ said Bran. If I didn’t know from my own unforgettable lived experience that he was right up one end of the sexuality continuum, with an interest in the contents of women’s knickers second only to the World Gynaecologists’ Association’s Annual Gathering and Bingo Night, I’d have said he was flirting. He had certainly done the Princess Diana chin-dip and eye-raise. I cast a glance at Kathi to see if she had noticed, but I knew from the way she was staring at her hands that she was lost in thoughts of what she’d been touching and how she could get into a bathroom without coming into contact with its door handle, and what she would do if the taps were the kind you had to twist on and off with a tight grip.

  Todd was dialling. ‘Police,’ he said and waited.

  Bran sipped his tea. It was putting some colour back in his cheeks, which, when he’d paled under his tan, had turned quite – you guessed it – beige.

  ‘Yes, I want to report a missing person. Well, a kidnap.’ Another pause. ‘Because there’s a ransom note … A wife … Her husband … No, I’m not. He’s too upset to talk. I’m a … friend.’ Another pause. This one lasted long enough for me to start gesturing at him to hand over the phone.

  ‘Who am I talking to?’ I said, when I’d got the phone in my hand and Todd was glowering at me.

  ‘Oh. You’re back,’ said the despatcher.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you have an argument? Are you safe, ma’am, or should officer
s attend?’

  ‘What? Oh! No, I’m not the wife. I’m the ex-w— doesn’t matter. Brandeee Lancer of three-one-four-five Camino Loop has been kidnapped and we think it’s the same people who took Mama Cuento and left her toe.’

  ‘She left her toe?’ said the despatcher, with her voice rising to a squeak.

  ‘Not Mrs Lancer! Last night. Someone left behind Mama Cuento’s toe. And the note’s the same. What?’ That was to Bran who was waving at me trying to butt in.

  ‘She’s a doctor and she combined her names,’ he hissed at me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I told the despatcher. I dredged deep into my memory of our divorce papers and found what I was searching for. ‘Her name’s not Mrs Lancer. It’s Dr Rumsfeld-Lancer.’

  ‘Are you high?’ said the despatcher. I’m sure it wasn’t one of the questions on her checklist.

  ‘I know!’ I said. ‘Imagine not ditching Rumsfeld. Be that as it may— What now?’ Bran was waving again.

  ‘Kowalski-Lancer,’ he said. But I couldn’t face the scorn of the despatcher if I switched it again.

  ‘This toe injury,’ she was saying. ‘Do you need an ambulance? Do you have it iced? It might be quicker to take her to the emergency room in your car, but I can call and tell them you’re coming. What insurance does Dr Rumsfeld have? Are you a family member?’

  I shoved the phone at Kathi, unbagged and straight into her gloveless hand. ‘We’re looping,’ I said. ‘You try.’

  ‘We need an officer at three-one-four-five Camino Loop,’ Kathi said, ‘for a two-seven-three-D. Thank you.’ She hung up. ‘I need to wash my hands,’ she said. ‘Lexy, you know where it is, don’t you?’

  ‘What was that?’ I said as I led her along the bedroom corridor to the half bath.

  ‘That was ten years in the motel business,’ she said. ‘Two-seven-three-D is police code for a felony domestic abuse.’

  ‘Kathi!’

  ‘I know. I’ll tell them I got the code wrong. But, (a) it’s the quickest way to get a cop here without saying “officer down”, and (b) I don’t know what number kidnap is, anyway. Back me up if it gets ugly, OK?’

  She had run the hot water and now she was applying germicidal handwash as if prepping for surgery.

  I can’t be in a loo without peeing and Kathi can’t be close to someone else’s pee because of the completely imaginary risk of a non-existent infection, so I went back to Todd and Bran.

  ‘When did you last see Brandee?’ Todd was saying.

  ‘She was in bed with me when I fell asleep on Valentine’s Day Eve,’ Bran said.

  ‘So you came to me the very next morning?’ I said. ‘How hard did you try to find her?’

  ‘Not Valentine’s Day in the evening, Lexy,’ said Bran. ‘Valentine’s Day Eve. The day before.’

  ‘That’s not a thing,’ I said. ‘And it’s still pretty quick to be getting help. Thirty-six hours?’

  ‘Thirty-six Valentine’s Day hours,’ said Bran.

  ‘That’s not a thing either,’ I said. ‘You said it like it’s dog years.’

  ‘Valentine’s Day is Brandee’s favourite holiday,’ Bran said. ‘It’s her birthday. And it’s the day we met. The day we married—’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘You were still— Oh. The first time, you mean?’

  ‘When I woke up and she was gone, I thought she had slipped out of bed to arrange a surprise for me. So I didn’t get up and go looking for her, in case I spoiled it. It was only around seven forty-five, when I hadn’t heard a sound, that I started searching.’

  ‘And you did search right through the entire house, I suppose?’ said Todd.

  Kathi was back. ‘The police will, anyway,’ she said.

  ‘Of course I did,’ said Bran. ‘I knew she hadn’t left, so I thought she was hiding somewhere, perhaps in a costume or … you know, not … so I went looking for her. House, garage, pool, yard … I even went into the roof space, in case she had prepared …’

  ‘A sex dungeon?’ I said.

  ‘As long as I live in California,’ said Kathi, ‘I’ll never stop missing basements.’

  ‘And what has she taken with her?’ Todd asked next, getting the same answer as I had.

  ‘She didn’t take anything with her. She didn’t go. Not by choice. Her phone’s gone but that’s because whoever took her took her phone too.’

  ‘Did they take her wallet? Her keys? Her ID?’ said Kathi.

  ‘Who cares if they took a stupid wallet!’ said Bran. ‘They took my wife!’ He was getting himself so upset I wondered which one of us would be brave enough to ask the next question. But thankfully we were all saved by the sound of a car pulling up outside, doors slamming and feet tramping up the path with a determined tread.

  An unmistakable police knock sounded at the door and a voice shouted, ‘Po-lice! Open up!’

  Of course it was Mike. Of course it was. There were other detectives in the Cuento squad, but, if I was anywhere around, Mike came down on me like she was attached to a pulley.

  ‘Does anyone need medical assistance?’ she asked as she swept past Kathi, walking with that gorilla-style lope, shoulders bundled forward, that some police think gives them what they call – pitifully – ‘a strong command presence’. It would have helped if Mike wasn’t five foot four with a mop of curls and a figure like a mini Jessica Rabbit. Or maybe that just made it all the more important for her to try to look intimidating. I managed not to say ‘Bless!’ and chuck her under the chin.

  ‘I’m all right, officer,’ said Bran. ‘I was a little faint but my ex-wife got some sugar in me.’

  Mike was slowly taking in the cast of characters in Bran’s living room, while a uniformed officer I didn’t recognize stood behind her, gawping at the fittings. The Beige Barn, admittedly, has got some swank about it, albeit swank that looks as if it’s been soaked in weak tea.

  ‘And who hit who?’ Mike said. ‘Which two of you are domestic partners anyway?’

  The uniformed officer cleared his throat.

  ‘Godammit,’ said Mike. ‘I mean, which of you are domestic participants?’

  She’d been on a course about new family structures, I reckoned. It wasn’t fair to laugh, but I didn’t know which of the three – Bran, Todd or Kathi – looked more horrified by the very suggestion.

  It didn’t take too long to straighten out. Mike was happier to think that Kathi had made a mistake with the police code than to think they’d peeled up here because a civilian played them and, when she saw the note and nail, all that went out the window anyway. She asked the same questions as Todd had about the timing of Brandeee’s disappearance, and she sent the uniform to search the house with a subtle jerk of her chin while Bran had his head briefly in his hands. But then she asked a few extra questions too: had Bran and Brandeee been getting along? How was business? Any trouble with co-workers? And did he have any recent connections to La Cucaracha?

  ‘To what?’ said Bran. ‘Is that a gang?’

  ‘It’s a taqueria,’ said Mike. ‘Downtown. You know about the other incident, don’t you?’

  Bran swallowed hard. ‘There’s been another kidnap?’ he said weakly. ‘When?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Mike. The uniform was back, giving her a subtle shake of the head. ‘Mr Lancer, we’re going to take the note and nail away for testing and we’ll be sending someone out to ask you more detailed questions later today. In the meantime, do you have someone who can stay with you?’ She flicked a glance at the three of us, sitting in a row on the other couch like three wise monkeys. Or possibly stooges. ‘Any family?’

  ‘Blaike!’ I said suddenly, only just now remembering about Brandeee’s son. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘School,’ said Bran.

  ‘He’s OK enough to go to school?’ I said. ‘The poor boy must be—’

  ‘Boarding school,’ said Bran. ‘I haven’t told him yet. I didn’t want to worry him.’

  ‘We’ll have to speak to your son, Mr Lancer,’ Mike said. �
�Your wife might have been in touch with him after her last contact with you.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Bran. ‘I’ll give you his contact details, but can I ask you to wait until I’ve had a chance to break the news to him?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Mike said.

  ‘Meantime, we’d better be getting off,’ I said. ‘Unless … Bran, have you got someone else who could come and be with you? Or one of us could stay, if you’d prefer?’

  ‘I’ll call Elise.’

  ‘Daughter?’ said Mike. ‘Mother? Sister?’ She was going to make him choose a way to describe this woman whose name had come so effortlessly to mind as soon as he was pressed to find someone he could lean on. That was my first inkling that she suspected him.

  ‘Dental receptionist,’ Bran said. ‘Co-worker and very close friend of us both. And, since we will have to close the practice, I know she’s not working today.’

  ‘Aye right!’ I said, as we walked down the path. ‘What do you bet there’s no way Elise would get her white crocs over the door if Brandeee was there?’

  ‘But he sounded genuinely freaked out by the ransom note,’ Kathi said. ‘Genuinely upset all around. And you said he was crying when he came to see you at the Ditch too.’

  ‘Genuinely upset?’ said Todd. ‘You mean when he said, “Brandee! Oh, Brandee, ba-aby”? Jesus, have you never seen Grease? That was the stagiest thing I’ve ever heard and I’ve heard the Sacramento Gay Men’s Choir doing Oklahoma!’

  ‘You’re just pissed off because he can’t speak Spanish,’ I said.

  We were back at the car and, as Todd climbed into the driver’s seat, he gave me a solemn look in the mirror. ‘No, Lexy,’ he said. ‘I’m pissed off because he thought some random Spanish phrase he didn’t recognize was a gang name. Seriously, why did you ever marry him?’

  ‘Same reason you wore denim dungarees in the eighties,’ I said. I had seen a lot of Todd’s old photos by now. ‘We all make mistakes.’

  ‘And Brandee made the same mistake twice,’ said Kathi. ‘But do you think he’s capable of harming someone?’