The Gossip

by Nancy Bush

  “Really?” He looked surprised.

  “Really.”

  He was now blocking what had been a clean view of Rayne’s ex, Seth Keppler, and his girlfriend/roommate Patti Warner, who were seated at a table by the door. They’d been arguing, but now appeared to be lost in a silent, furious, standoff.

  “Let me buy you another,” Gillis said. “To celebrate.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Gillis. Need to stop you before you get started. Save us both some time.”

  He spread his hands. “Time, I got.”

  Mackenzie leaned back again to catch a quick look at her quarry, worried they’d heard him call her “copper” . . . but they didn’t seem to care.

  He lifted his chin at the bartender, getting the man’s attention. “Bring me a Bud.”

  Then he glanced at her drink. “What’re you having?”

  “Vodka.”

  “Hey, man. Changed my mind. I’ll take the same as her.”

  Mackenzie felt a stab of impatience. She’d agreed to this “job” more as a lark than a means of making income because Bibi Engstrom was in the midst of an ugly divorce and barely making ends meet. Bibi had contacted Mackenzie because she’d thought Mac was still with the River Glen Police Department. Her friend Rayne had gone missing and no one seemed to be looking for her. Rayne’s family had told Bibi she’d likely taken off for parts unknown, possibly with a new romantic interest as Rayne tended to flit from one affair to another, but Bibi didn’t think so.

  “Rayne doesn’t just take off,” Bibi had said, flipping back a dry end of over-dyed red hair. Bibi’s roots were showing and there was a weariness around her eyes. She and Mackenzie had shared some classes at Portland State but they’d never been exactly friends. They’d remet in River Glen when Bibi had called the police on her husband. She’d thrown his clothes onto the front yard and locked him out. His answer was to break a back window and climb back inside and then they’d screamed at each other for a long while. A skirmish of some kind occurred, in which Bibi’s arm was hurt. But Bibi had refused to charge him with battery, when all was said and done. The red handprint on Hank Engstrom’s cheek hadn’t helped her case. They’d reconciled, and apparently the clothes had been put back in the closet, but Bibi had recently confided in Mac that she and her husband had hit the end of the road. There was the intimation that Hank was seeing someone else. Neither of them seemed to be willing to give up the rental, so they were at a stalemate.

  “Well, I mean, okay, Rayne does leave sometimes,” Bibi had corrected herself. “But not this time. She has a new boyfriend and she wouldn’t tell me about him. Honestly, she was . . . I don’t know, kinda weird about it. I thought maybe he wasn’t real? Like maybe she was still seeing one of her exes? I get the feeling it might be Seth and she just didn’t want to tell me? But she’s been gone for over a week. Not answering her phone? And she always picks up. Would you check it out?”

  That’s when Mackenzie had explained that she’d left River Glen PD, but that fact had scarcely slowed Bibi down. When Mac told her to report Rayne missing to the department, Bibi said that’s what she’d thought she was doing when she ran into Mackenzie at the local coffee hangout, the Coffee Club, Rayne’s last place of employment.

  “Talk to Gary,” Bibi had pleaded, waving an arm toward the middle-aged man with the hangdog face who cruised in and out of the Coffee Club’s back room to check on the girls working the counter. “Rayne hasn’t shown up for work for over a week. She’s not at her apartment. Okay, she ran out on the rent, but she would be here if she could. Hey, Gary!”

  Mac vaguely recalled Rayne as the chubby, dark-haired woman with the beaming smile mostly reserved for the male customers as Bibi told Gary that her friend Mackenzie would be looking to find out what happened to her, why she wasn’t coming to work. Gary shrugged and said Rayne was unreliable. It’s just how she was. It wasn’t the first time she’d run out on him and maybe he’d take her back when she showed up, or maybe he wouldn’t. He had a business to run.

  “If you find her, tell her it’s the last time,” he tossed over his shoulder as he resumed his place behind the counter.

  Bibi had gone on to explain that she’d approached Rayne’s equally blasé mother, Sharon Sealy, and sister, Elise. Neither of them was apparently getting too worked up about Rayne’s sudden disappearance, either. “Would you just please find out where she is? She also owes me some money,” Bibi had admitted. “I’d like it back, but I also want to know what happened to her. She’s a flake, okay? But like this? I don’t think so. I have half a mind to go up to Seth myself and call him out, but he’s got guns. Even my husband, the asshole, thinks Seth’s trigger happy. So be careful, okay? I wish you were still with the police.”

  Mackenzie, with no clear career path currently in sight, had grudgingly promised to look into the issue. A fool’s errand, most likely. Maybe a dangerous fool’s errand. But at some level it beat hanging around her mother’s house, her current place of residence while Mom recovered from surgery from breast cancer.

  Mom . . . For a moment Mackenzie tuned out Doobie’s rambling. She’d been living with her mother at the insistence of her stepsister, Stephanie, daughter of the odious Dan “The Man” Gerber. Her mother was doing okay enough that Mackenzie could probably move out of the house now, but she’d let her apartment go when she’d moved in, so there was that. And then she’d quit her job, so there was that, too.

  Mom had asked why Mackenzie had quit the force but Mac hadn’t felt like going into it all. Her emotions were still whipsawing back and forth over what she maybe could’ve done, should’ve done, but hadn’t. The sexual harassment had been mostly implicit. Nothing concrete enough to be definitive. A move in front of a door to make it hard to leave the room. A casual brush by. The evidence of his erection inside his trousers, something he wanted her to see.

  The fact that he was the River Glen chief of police was what determined it for Mac. He wanted to promote her, but . . . there were steps she needed to take to earn that promotion. Those steps had never been outlined, but Mackenzie had understood they weren’t the kind of steps described in the department manual.

  As if he could read her mind, Gillis asked now, “Why’d ya quit?” as the bartender slid his drink to him.

  “Dissatisfaction with the job.”

  “Didn’t get the promotion you asked for?”

  Well, yeah, Doobie. The truth was she had half hoped she’d be promoted to detective when one of the River Glen PD’s detectives, Howard Eversgard, went on administrative leave. Eversgard had gone on to take early retirement after a dangerous domestic violence incident that left him no choice but to shoot the belligerent, angry husband aiming at him with his own handgun. An investigation had followed with Eversgard put on administrative leave, and though he was eventually cleared of wrongdoing, the man’s unfortunate death had gotten to him. He’d surprised everyone by giving up his job and starting a new life. Mac had secretly hoped for a promotion then, but Chief Bennihof had quashed that wish in a way that had left Mac no choice, she’d felt, but to quit herself.

  And then Bibi had run into her at the Coffee Club.

  “Look into Seth. There’s something there, I just know it,” she’d insisted as they were leaving, latching onto Mac as if they were long lost friends.

  “An investigation takes time,” Mac had reminded.

  “But you’ll do it?”

  “Yesss . . . okay. No promises, but I’ll check it out.”

  “Good. You know Seth?”

  “No.”

  “He might be a . . . dealer . . . drug dealer, kind of. Small-time. But his day job’s as a trainer at Good Livin’. I guess his latest girlfriend is a receptionist there.”

  So, now Mac was following Seth and Patti. Seth was nice enough looking in a sneery sort of way with hipster hair and clothes, and Patti was short and tough looking with dyed black hair scraped into a ponytail.
Good Livin’ was situated near River Glen General Hospital, Glen Gen to the locals, and it tried to trade on its proximity to the hospital as part of the club’s overall health experience, which had earned them several reprimands and fines from the hospital itself. As far as Mackenzie knew, those charges hadn’t slowed Good Livin’ down one bit.

  Her drinking today was to give legitimacy to her afternoon trip to the Waystation should Seth and Patti recognize she had more than a passing interest in them. She’d been following Seth for about a week back and forth to the club and his house and back again and so far had learned nothing. If he was a dealer he must be doing it at the club because no one was showing up at his house and he and Patti weren’t going anywhere but the club. Until today, that is, when they had suddenly taken a detour to the Waystation in the middle of the afternoon. So far, neither of them had paid her any attention. They were too involved in themselves and their own quiet fury at each other. Mac was kind of curious about whatever that was about, but hadn’t moved close enough to listen. And now Gillis was trying to ruin her game as he edged nearer again and she got a whiff of his sour breath. He might dress like he was headed for a rodeo, but he smelled like what might be found on the bottom of a cowboy boot.

  “We’re not on a date,” Mac said, sliding over another barstool.

  Gillis seemed about to follow, then shrugged and stayed where he was. “You’re really hard to get to know.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I thought you’d get those doo-ees taken care of for me.”

  “You deserved those DUIs.”

  “For somebody so cute, you sure are a tough bitch, aren’t ya?” he said.

  “That’s a compliment, right?”

  “You bet your sweet ass.” He leaned back to catch a glimpse of her derriere.

  If he touches me, I’ll smack him, she thought mildly, aware the vodka she’d been so carefully sipping might be moving through her system anyway. She’d made a show of tipping back the glass a time or two. Now she had a second one in front of her, which she had no intention of drinking. When Seth and Patti decided to leave, she needed to be sober and ready to follow.

  “So, they fire you, or what?” asked Gillis.

  “Or what.”

  He snorted. “They didn’t fire you?”

  She allowed herself a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to talk to him. But she also didn’t want to make a scene. “I quit.”

  “Why?”

  “It was time.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s always a reason.”

  You wanna know the reason, Doobie? The chief made a pass at me, then acted like it never happened. And after that, though I thought things were maybe cool, they weren’t. Same old story. My career, such as it was, wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to get over the rejection....

  “Sometimes you know when time’s up,” she said.

  “You were a pretty good cop,” he said grudgingly. High praise indeed from someone she’d arrested twice and who complained long and loudly about River Glen’s finest on a good day.

  Suddenly Seth and Patti got up from the table. Patti walked out of the bar, stiff-backed, head high, totally pissed. Seth threw some money down and followed after her, swearing furiously beneath his breath. Mac caught a few pungent words. The “F” word chief among them. Trouble in paradise.

  “They’re pretty mad at each other,” Gillis observed.

  “What was your first clue?” Mac asked.

  Gillis guffawed as the bartender, a guy in his thirties with a bald head and full beard, leaned in and observed, “They’re always like that.”

  “They in here a lot?” Mac asked him, getting to her feet.

  He shrugged. “Seen ’em in here a time or two.”

  “Bet they jump on each other as soon as they’re in the car,” said Gillis. “Makes me horny.”

  “Gotta go.” Mackenzie dropped a twenty on the bar. The Waystation was a dive bar with moderate to cheap prices, its most appealing feature. Maybe it was the reason people like Seth and Patti came here because it sure wasn’t for the ambiance or the food.

  “I got this,” Gillis said magnanimously.

  “Appreciate it, but no thanks.” Mac left her twenty where it sat and pretended to mosey out the door but inside she was hurrying. She knew where Seth and Patti lived, but maybe they had other plans. Maybe this was where they broke routine. Maybe there was a dinner scheduled. At some Portland restaurant? Or another bar? There were hours of daylight left.

  She hurried to her SUV, a dark blue RAV4, and eased in behind the wheel, pulling out after Seth and Patti, but staying back several blocks. Maybe they were going somewhere else, but they seemed to be heading in the direction of their rented town house on the west side, the newest side of town. She always felt nervous when she was following someone. What could she say if she were caught? With that in mind, she let herself fall back even farther, but when Seth and Patti started up Stillwell Hill Mac let out a pent-up breath. They were likely going home. She made a face. Well, whatever. She could follow them back or head to her mother’s. But Dan the Man would be home from his job in insurance sales soon and there would be a lot of hours trying to figure out what to say to him. He spent a little too much time sliding his gaze over Mackenzie’s body when he thought no one was looking. She’d thought about complaining to Stephanie, but Stephanie was his daughter and . . . she’d probably get told she was imagining it. She wondered if it was a function of being single, this unwanted male attention.

  “Maybe you need a relationship,” she said aloud.

  You would have to try. Have to be nice. Have to SMILE, and you know that’s never going to happen.

  She made a face. It had been a while since her last relationship. Maybe it was just the males she was around.

  Maybe it’s you . . .

  She followed Seth’s white Ford F-150 from a discreet distance and when they turned into their small cul-de-sac on the edge of the Staffordshire Estates development, she cruised on by, driving through the part of the development where most of the two hundred plus homes were completed. The overall construction had slowed a bit from its earlier furious pace, but the houses, which had seemed to languish partway through construction, were now finished and they were breaking ground on new ones. The completed homes were all large and modern; every Realtor’s dream. A new phase of development was starting soon, according to the billboard with the grinning man in a hard hat holding a rolled-up set of plans in one hand. Andrew Best, owner of Best Homes. Her stepsister’s husband, Nolan, had quit working for Best Homes after suffering a falling-out with Best, who was an unbelievable tyrant, according to Nolan, who now worked as a foreman for Laidlaw Construction, which had purchased a number of lots from Best and was also building homes in the development. Nolan and her stepsister had been planning to have a baby, but Stephanie and Nolan had put those plans on hold after Nolan lost his job. Mac wasn’t sure what the status on baby making was now that Nolan had been with Laidlaw nearly a year.

  She circled back and drove past the opening to the cul-de-sac, pulling into an open spot a block ahead, watching through her side mirror as Seth and Patti climbed from the truck and walked toward the town house’s front door. They let themselves in and Mac saw lights flicker on in first the bottom floor, and then the top. It looked like they were in for the night. Though Bibi was convinced Seth had something to do with Rayne’s disappearance, Mac suspected she was on a wild goose chase. She would be better served looking for another job. A real job. She just wasn’t sure what that job could be. She could try for a spot with either Portland or Laurelton PD, but any job she would be offered would mean starting at the bottom again and honestly, she wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted. She had a bit of a problem with authority . . . maybe more than a bit . . . and though she might be wasting her time chasing after Seth Keppler, she loved the freedom of doing what she wanted and not being under someone else’s control.

  Her inner eye woke and rewatched the ev
ents that had brought her to this place. The chief locking his office door while she’d swiveled slowly around in the chair in front of his desk, refusing to believe what she was seeing. The curtains to the office were already closed. After hours. No one around. No officers, no detectives. No one. She’d risen from her chair, trying to tamp down her alarm. “Hey,” she’d said, while he’d leaned back against the door and eyed her in a way that could only be described as lascivious. Her pulse had skyrocketed, and not in a good way. She’d understood, from what others had said, that the chief wasn’t much of a leader, but no one had totally condemned him nor accused him of sexual harassment.

  “Hey,” he’d responded quietly, moving from his position at the door toward her.

  Holy . . . hell.

  To this day she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said to get herself out of there. He hadn’t chased her around the desk. He hadn’t completely blocked her escape. He hadn’t touched her. But she’d had to do some fast talking to get him to unlock that door and allow her to escape.

  After that, she hadn’t looked at her job quite the same way, and neither had he, apparently. He found little ways to criticize her work. Nothing huge, just enough to sow the seeds of doubt in her coworkers’ minds, though they swore they knew she was hardworking and uncomplaining. It wore her down though. She quit without a real plan. Being a cop had lost its luster. She’d never really fit in and so she left.

  And here she was, playing private detective. She didn’t have the credentials. Wasn’t sure that was the route she was going to take. She’d just listened to Bibi and—

  Her passenger door suddenly flew open. Mac gasped and immediately bent over, searching for the gun under the front seat before remembering she didn’t keep it there since she quit the force.

  “Just me, Officer Mac,” a familiar male voice said, catching her arm before she could grab for it.

  “Taft!” she exclaimed, getting a good look at him.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Staking out the place? Who’re you looking for? I thought you quit the PD. This your car?”