by Destiny Ford
“Please tell me you have your camera?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good. I want lots of photos.”
I hung up the phone. “Bad news. Our conversation will have to wait. Something’s going on at the bank and I have to leave right now.”
Instead of getting out of my Jeep, Hawke buckled his seatbelt. “I’ll come along.”
I stared at him for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” I said, and started the Jeep.
Even though it was only a mile away, I sped through side streets to get to the bank as fast as I could.
“So, what did you learn from Piper?” Hawke asked.
“I don’t have time to go into the whole story now.”
We careened around a corner. Hawke braced himself against the door. “Since you’re probably going to kill us before we get to the bank, you at least owe me the highlights of your conversation.”
I couldn’t turn to glare at him because I was trying to watch the road and not hit any children, pedestrians, or animals, so I glared out the windshield instead. As we came to the bank, a fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars blocked the street. I pulled into the closest parking spot I could find, grabbed my camera from the back seat and opened the door. Right before I got out I said, “Chelsea was pregnant.”
I could tell Hawke was surprised at the news about Chelsea, but nothing compared to the look on his face as we surveyed the situation in front of us.
The bank had just installed a new revolving door. There had even been an article about it in the Tribune. The door was big news in Branson because no other store in the town, or even the county, had one. Revolving doors were for fancy offices in big cities. The doors can be tricky for people not used to the constant, circular movement. As we stood back in stunned silence, I decided maybe the bank should have offered a class on ‘how to use a revolving door’. I couldn’t look away.
I imagined that in Hawke’s vast life experience, he’d seen pretty much everything. But it seemed nothing could compare to the image of Mrs. Olsen bent over, her shoulders, torso, butt, arms, and legs hanging out of the town’s only revolving door. Her head was stuck between the revolving part of the door and the stationary plate glass that the door passed as it turned. And she wasn’t handling the situation with grace. In an effort to get the attention of everyone in the world, her arms were waving around her stomach so fast that it looked like she was trying desperately to swim. I thought if she moved much faster, her arms could act as a propeller and she might be able to take off.
I held back my laughter since collapsing to the ground in a fit of giggles wouldn’t be very professional, but I couldn’t wipe the huge smile off my face as I lifted my camera and started clicking away. No wonder Spence wanted a lot of pictures. I could imagine him rolling on the floor listening to this debacle on the scanner.
On a scale of embarrassment, this topped every incident my mom had ever been involved in. She’d be glad to know she wasn’t the only one with bad luck. Though I imagined this situation was a result of insufficient revolving door experience, whereas my mom’s catastrophes were usually just horrible coincidences.
People from all over town were standing on the sidewalks and more were arriving by the minute, coming by foot, bike, and car. If they didn’t get Mrs. Olsen’s head unstuck soon, people from other towns would start showing up too. I watched a police officer near Mrs. Olsen trying to calm her down. Officer Bob was talking to a group of firemen. “I have to talk to the police,” I said to Hawke as I got another memory stick from my bag and slid it into my camera. “Are you going to hang around?”
Hawke smiled. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I walked up to the firemen and Officer Bob, all of whom were doing their best not to laugh at the circumstance. “Hey boys,” I said. “Any of you want to comment on what happened here?”
“Kate,” Bob said. “I figured it was only a matter of time before you showed up.”
“Get used to it, Bobby,” I smiled. “How in the hell did Mrs. Olsen get her head lodged in the revolving door?”
The two firemen were holding back laughter. Bob said, “We’re not exactly sure. Until we get her out of there, she can’t tell us what happened.”
“She’s been yelling since we got here,” one of the firemen said. “She’s trying to tell us something.”
“There were eyewitness reports, though,” Bob said. “Near as we can tell, Mrs. Olsen had been lookin’ for somethin’ in her purse when she started to walk into the bank. With her head down in her purse she was bent over slightly at the waist when the door came by and captured her head, pinnin’ it between the rotatin’ door and the permanent glass.”
I had to try really, really hard not to laugh at the image. Judging by their red faces and sparkle in their eyes, the firemen and Bob looked like they were trying twice as hard as me. When I regained my composure I asked, “So why don’t you just push the door open?”
One of the firemen answered, “There’s a fail-safe switch and we cut the electricity to the door. The EMT’s are looking her over first to make sure it’s safe to move her and she isn’t hurt. Once they finish up, we’ll push the door counter-clockwise and get her out.” There was an amused smile as he said it.
I pointed my notebook at them. “You’re all taking your time on this because you think it’s funny!”
None of them denied it. “Admit it, you do too,” Bob said. “Mrs. Olsen is one of the meanest women I know. It’s kinda nice to see her in this mess.”
I couldn’t disagree. Her reputation of constantly judging everyone in town put The Ladies to shame. Now would be a good time for me to get some coffee since the coffee patrol was currently lodged in a door. “I’m going to get photos and talk to some of the people in the crowd.”
Officer Bob swept his hand out in front of him. “Go ahead.”
I got some great photos from the back, and by back, I mean Mrs. Olsen’s backside. I went around to the entrance on the other side of the building to get some photos of her face, which was bright red and looked like it might explode. I also got some good action shots with her arms waving.
I talked to the eyewitnesses and got crowd reactions ranging from amusement to concern that it could happen again. Once the EMT’s were finished checking Mrs. Olsen, the firemen went up to the door and pushed it about six inches to the left. Mrs. Olsen’s scarlet head popped out like the door had just given birth to a very angry old lady.
I got photos of that too.
I put my camera back in my bag and was on my way to meet Hawke at my Jeep when I saw Bob standing alone next to his police cruiser. It seemed like the perfect time to ask him about Chelsea’s death and the police investigation.
He stared at me as I walked up to him. “Do you need another quote for your story or somethin’?”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about Chelsea Bradford’s death.”
He gave me a wary look. “What about it?”
I knew they’d ruled her death an accident, but thought I’d feign ignorance to fish for information. “I was wondering how your investigation is going and if there’s any information you’d like to share?”
He took a piece of gum from his pocket. “There ain’t no investigation,” he said as he unwrapped the tutti-fruity flavored gum.
“What do you mean there’s no investigation?” I asked. Hawke had said the police wouldn’t be any help, but I hadn’t believed him.
“Her death was ruled an accident. The investigation is done.”
“What about the sign on the sheet metal plant? She had it coming. It seemed menacing. It could have been about Chelsea.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Bunch a ninny’s speculatin’ on things and causin’ me problems,” Bobby said. “We got some calls about it, but they didn’t last long, and Andrew Davies’ welcome home sign was back up by the end of the night. The sign could of been referrin’ to any female in town. People just wanna jump on the freshest p
iece a gossip they can get.”
“Are you telling me that no one’s talking about the message anymore?”
He flicked a bug from his arm. “You’re the reporter. You heard anyone talkin’ about it?”
He had me there. Maybe Ella would know something though. She had a better pulse on the gossip circles than I did. “So you’re not worried there’s a possible murderer running around Branson at all?”
“Nope.”
I put my hands on my hips and stared at him. Apparently he wasn’t concerned with all the evidence pointing to foul play. “Chelsea went missing before she died.”
Bobby shook his head. “We talked to her parents. She wasn’t missin’, she was visitin’ friends. Brian and Julia Bradford didn’t know she’d come home.”
I looked at him with wide eyes. “Don’t you think it’s odd her parents didn’t know she was back in town?”
Bobby sighed. “Most of the things teenagers do are strange. Heck, I’m terrified of the weird crap my kids will come up with once they’re that age.” He rubbed his forehead like he had an itch and continued, “We talked to the family Chelsea was travelin’ with. They said she’d started gettin’ homesick. One morning a few weeks ago they woke up and she was gone. Said she took all her stuff with her.”
Hmm. Either Chelsea really had left Branson, or the family Bobby had talked to was covering for the Bradfords. “So did you find her stuff at the lake?”
“What stuff?” Bobby asked.
I closed my eyes. Sometimes talking to Bobby was like talking to a four-year-old. “The stuff Chelsea took with her when she left. Obviously she didn’t go home, so her belongings should have been with her at the lake.”
Bobby wrinkled his brow. “I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually. Besides, I doubt the lake was the first place she went.”
“That’s another thing!” I almost yelled, trying to emphasize my point. “She didn’t go home, so where was she staying before she died? And why the lake? Why not go home to her family if she was homesick?”
Bobby thought about it before responding, “The Bradfords said part of the reason they let her leave school to travel was because they were tryin’ to get her away from some boy she was datin’.” Bobby chewed his gum loudly, glancing around like a member of the royal guard on patrol. “So I figure Chelsea bein’ homesick had more to do with missin’ her boyfriend than it had to do with missin’ her family. If I were a bettin’ man, I’d say the boyfriend was who she stayed with. As for Emerald Lake, the Bradfords said it was one of her favorite places in Branson.”
“Did the Bradfords tell you who she was dating before she left?”
“Nope. Said it wasn’t important. And since her death was an accident, it don’t really matter.”
“She went missing and now she’s dead!” I said. “It seems like the boyfriend might be a clue.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Ah, Kate. You know how teenage girls are.”
I folded my arms under my chest. I couldn’t wait to hear this. “No, Bobby, how are they?”
“Difficult! All those hormones and anger issues. I’d have probably sent my kid away too!”
I took a moment to feel bad for Bobby’s kids. “Did you at least get the crime scene unit out to the lake before you closed Chelsea’s case?”
Bobby burst out laughing. “Crime scene unit?” He laughed some more. “Cripes, Kate! This is Branson Falls, not Salt Lake City. We don’t have a crime scene unit.”
Sometimes I forget small towns don’t have anywhere close to the same resources as large cities. During my college internship, I’d worked the crime beat for a daily newspaper. It was a completely different experience than this. The city cops seemed to have a lot more rules to follow. “Did the police department search for evidence?”
He hooked his thumbs over his belt, pushing his chest out as he gave me a look indicating he held me in the same esteem as a cockroach. “We followed normal investigation procedures. Chelsea’s death was an accident, there’s nothin’ more to investigate.”
I stared at him while I bit my tongue until I could come up with a response that didn’t involve a four-letter word. “I think there’s more to the story than an accidental drowning,” I said. “And I’m not the only one.”
Bobby arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond.
“I’m going to find out what really happened, with your help or without it,” I said, like I was issuing a dare.
He studied me with an assessing eye. “If you wanna waste your time and chase Chelsea Bradford’s ghost, be my guest,” he said, motioning with his arm like I had free reign.
My jaw gaped in disbelief. “Are you saying I have permission from the Branson Police Department to investigate Chelsea’s death on my own?”
He laughed. “It’s a free country—for now at least. I figure you can do whatever you want. Like I said, you’re wastin’ your time.”
I wrapped the camera strap through my arm, over my shoulder, and across my chest. “We’ll see, Bobby.”
I walked back over to where Hawke was standing. “What were you and the good officer talking about?” he asked.
“Chelsea.”
“Did he have any interesting information for you?”
I stared at Hawke, annoyed that he’d been right. “Not really.”
“Did he tell you they aren’t investigating her death?”
I tightened my lips for a few seconds and met his eyes. “Yeah, he did. So I guess you and I will have to work twice as hard to figure out what happened.”
Hawke hooked an arm over the door of the Jeep, giving me a wide grin. “I can’t wait.”
I walked into the Tribune office with Hawke following behind me. Spence saw me and grinned. “Was it as good as it sounded on the scanner?”
“Better. One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”
Ella came out of the back room. “What was funny?”
“Mrs. Olsen got her head stuck in the new revolving door at the bank.”
Ella hooted a laugh. “That woman has always been dumber than dirt and meaner than a rabid dog. Karma. That’s what that’s called.”
“I hope you got pictures,” Spence said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever taken more pictures for a story in my life.”
“The pictures won’t compare to seeing it in person though,” Hawke said.
Ella stood back with her hands on her hips and looked Hawke up and down, noticing him standing there for the first time—though how she could have missed him in the first place, I’m not sure. “Who’s this strapping young man?”
“Ryker Hawkins,” I said. “Hawke, this is our volunteer archivist, Ella James.”
Hawke held his hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ella.”
Ella met his hand with a firm shake. “Nice to meet ya,” Ella said. “If you’re a new reporter, I’ll be puttin’ in more volunteer hours.”
Hawke laughed.
“He’s helping me investigate Chelsea Bradford’s death.”
“Huh,” Ella looked him over a second time. “I bet you could find a better use for him than that.”
Hawke grinned, I blushed, and Spence scowled. Apparently Spence still wasn’t happy about me working with Hawke.
“Hey, Ella,” I said. “Have you heard anything about the graffiti on the sheet metal plant that showed up on the day of Chelsea’s funeral?”
Ella scrunched up her nose. “Just that everyone thinks it was strange. The nerve of someone bein’ so vindictive and secretive. If you’re gonna write a sign like that, at least give some names. Person who did it must’ve been unhinged.”
“Any idea who did it, or what the sign was about?”
“Nope. Could’ve been about anyone.”
Yeah, yeah. I’d heard that already, and thought it too. I still couldn’t shake the feeling it had something to do with Chelsea. “You hear anything about this, Hawke?”
He shook his head. “I’m looking into it, but nothing so far.”
>
I sighed. “I think you and I are the only ones who truly think Chelsea didn’t just trip into the lake and forget how to swim.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Speaking of Chelsea,” he said. “I’d like more details about her being pregnant.”
I glared, and seriously considered slugging Hawke. He wasn’t a very good secret keeper. He’d just announced Chelsea’s pregnancy to the whole office—which consisted of Ella and Spence, but still.
Spence’s mouth dropped at the news. I expected the same reaction from Ella, but her response was non-descript. I pushed my brows together. “You don’t seem very surprised, Ella.”
She shrugged. “I’m not. It ain’t the first time a girl’s disappeared for a while and then come back to Branson. It happened to girls when I was in high school, it happened with Chelsea, and it’ll happen again.”
I gave her an astonished look. She stared back, unapologetic. I closed my eyes, sighing. “Ella, remember when I asked if you had any other information I should know about? Girls who disappear because they’re pregnant is one of those things.”
She raised one shoulder while she tilted her head the side. “I figured you’d know. You went to high school here. It probably happened to girls you were in school with.”
Ella’s statement caught me off-guard and I thought back to my years in high school. There were a few girls who left to spend a year as foreign exchange students. Now I wondered if they’d been visiting a maternity ward instead of another country.
“What else did you find out?” Hawke asked.
In an effort to keep the rest of our conversation private, I pulled Hawke into the archive room and shut the door. I relayed the basics of my conversation with Piper. When I was done, I looked at Hawke. “If Chelsea was pregnant, where’s the baby?”
Hawke looked at me. “Another mystery to solve.”
“Maybe the person who killed Chelsea has the kid,” I suggested.
“It’s a definite possibility.” I thought it was strange he just accepted the news about Chelsea’s pregnancy. If I’d been him, I would have had a hundred questions. It almost seemed like Hawke wasn’t that surprised, but he was a hard guy to read.