by Mary Maxwell
“It’s been pretty hectic,” I answered. “Zack and I are working on wedding stuff, Sky High has been busier than—”
“Blah, blah, blah,” my sister said. “You always seem to find an excuse.”
I winced at the tone of her voice, but kept my gaze on Julia.
“Look, Liv,” I began. “What can I say? I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out to let you know about Caroline. But what I just told you is the truth; we’ve been swamped here, Zack and I are scrambling to get the guest list finished and Julia just walked in to let me know Dina’s on the other line.”
“With something about Caroline?” asked my sister.
“I don’t know that yet,” I replied. “I’ve been helping out with the case, so she might be responding to a message that I left for her earlier.”
“About Caroline?”
“Well, it’s related to the case, but I can’t really talk about it.”
She groaned. “See what I mean? We’re actually on the phone and you refuse to give me the scoop. Did you forget that Caroline’s brother and I went out for a couple of years when we were in high school?”
“No, I didn’t forget,” I said. “But the reason that I can’t tell you the latest is because—”
“Oh, just never mind then!” Olivia seethed. “This has already been one of the most awful days in my life. Why make it any worse feeling like my very own sister is keeping me in the dark?”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I said. “I just told you why—”
I heard a faint metallic click as she dropped the call. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a few seconds before putting it down on the desk.
“Sounds like that went well,” Julia said.
I smiled. “Somebody’s having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”
“Yeah, I got that impression,” she said. “Thank goodness it’s not one of us, right?”
“You can say that again!”
“Not right now,” she said. “Dina’s holding for you on line one. Better pick up so you don’t have two grumpy calls in a row.”
CHAPTER 28
“I did a little more digging into Evie Hale’s friends and associates during her high school years,” Dina said a moment later. “It’s a veritable rogue’s gallery of shady people doing shady things.”
“Who were you looking into?” I asked.
“The tennis instructor,” Dina began, “Dwayne Hale and some of his friends. Most of them have a record, but it’s all misdemeanors and nonviolent crimes.”
“Such as?”
“Things like theft, possession of anabolic steroids and reckless driving,” she said.
“Does that mean you think Evie’s brother or Vince Stafford were involved in her abduction?”
“I didn’t say that, Katie. I’m just trying to get a better picture of the people that were around her and Caroline Whitman ten years ago. There’s something very odd about the two cases. There are similarities, but also some big differences.”
“Beginning with the fact that one girl went free,” I said, “and the other one was murdered.”
“That’s the most essential variance,” Dina agreed. “And at the other end of that spectrum are the things the two cases have in common.”
“Both girls were riding their bikes on Mariposa Road,” I said.
“They were also in the same social circle,” Dina offered. “They both took lessons from Vince Stafford. They were in the—”
“Hang on,” I said. “Where did you find that information?”
“From Stafford’s former roommate,” Dina answered. “His name is Corbin Porter. Ten years ago, he and Vince shared a rental house on Sprucewood. It’s the one with the flagpole in the front yard.”
“Did you confirm that?”
“Of course, I did,” she said. “I have banking records that include a series of checks written by Caroline’s father for the lessons. I’m also bringing Vince in for a follow-up chat.”
“Did you ask him about teaching Caroline during your first interview?”
“I did,” Dina replied. “He said that he’d have to check his files and get back to me.”
“But you haven’t heard from him yet?”
She laughed. “What do you think?”
“Maybe he’s a little busy,” I suggested.
“Doing what?” she scoffed. “Covering his tracks or threatening witnesses?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Someone told me that Stafford left a message for him a couple of days ago. It said they needed to talk about, and I quote, ‘ancient history’ and ‘all the lies you told that summer.’ At this point, I don’t know if it’s about the kidnappings or the rumors that Evie’s father leveled some pretty incendiary allegations against Stafford.”
“Who told you that?” I asked.
“Vince’s old roommate,” Dina told me. “I need to corroborate a couple of details, but his story seems solid so far. He told me that Stafford was having money trouble when they lived together. I guess he was a big drinker back then with expensive tastes in women, cars and clothes. At one point, they were facing eviction, but then Stafford suddenly came up with a mysterious windfall to pay all of the overdue rent.”
“Did he know where the money came from?”
“Porter claimed that Stafford told him it was part of his inheritance,” Dina said. “Or, to be more accurate, he called it ‘family money.’ But I haven’t been able to find any record of Vince Stafford’s parents or siblings.”
“He isn’t from around here,” I said. “Harper’s husband told me that he moved to Crescent Creek because he wanted to get away from New York City.”
“I heard the same thing,” Dina said. “But my buddy with the NYPD couldn’t find anything on Stafford in the city or tri-state area.”
“That sounds shady right from the get-go,” I said. “How much can a tennis instructor make from teaching high school kids and bored housewives?”
She laughed. “See? There’s definitely something suspicious about the guy. Even if he’s charging fifty bucks an hour, it would take hundreds of regular students to earn enough to afford his lifestyle.”
“Maybe it was less extravagant back in the day,” I said.
“I suppose that depends on how you define ‘extravagant,’” Dina replied. “According to the DMV, Stafford’s been driving either a Mercedes coupé or Porsche 911 since college.”
“Fancy,” I said.
“And expensive,” Dina added.
“So are you saying that Stafford kidnapped Evie and Caroline to help pay for his upscale lifestyle?”
“Not in so many words,” she said. “But I’m considering him a person of interest. He would’ve had means, motive and opportunity to pull off the kidnappings. He knew both girls. He was trusted by both families. And he was aware that Dwayne Hale was being excluded from his father’s estate.”
“Do you think Dwayne helped Stafford stage Evie’s kidnapping?” I asked.
“Time will tell,” Dina replied. “We still have unidentified fingerprints on the roll of duct tape that was in the briefcase. We haven’t been able to interview Dwayne Hale yet. And we’re still waiting for Evie to figure out the difference between cooperation and obstruction.”
“Is she still avoiding another chat with you?” I asked.
“She seems to have a knack for it,” Dina answered. “She’s also hired a pricey attorney to run interference.”
“Could it simply be a way to evade reliving a traumatic experience from the past?” I asked.
“That’s a possibility,” Dina said. “But during our first conversation at her office, she seemed very willing to help us get justice for Caroline.”
“So if she’s now avoiding your calls,” I said, “what do you think changed her mind?”
Dina took a moment to consider the question.
“I have a hunch that it’s fear,” she finally replied. “Evie’s afraid of something or someo
ne.”
“From the past or present?” I asked.
“Possibly from both,” Dina said. “The only way to get answers from her is to keep asking questions.”
CHAPTER 29
I was watching an episode of Chef’s Table that night when my phone chimed with the arrival of a new text. Zack was in Cripple Creek for a freelance photography assignment, so I’d crawled beneath the blankets around nine to catch up on one of my favorite cooking shows.
I quickly stopped the show, put my plate of mini peanut butter cookies on the table and grabbed the phone. The message was from my sister: Do you have time for an apology? As I tried to think of a witty response, Olivia sent a follow-up text: Please call me when it’s convenient.
“What are you apologizing for?” I asked a moment later when she answered.
She laughed. “Because I was a total beast to you yesterday!”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I don’t remember you actually growling or threatening to rip off my head like you used to.”
“No, but I wasn’t very nice,” she replied. “I was rude and curt and my mood was dark as coal.”
“I’d go with darkish,” I said. “There was still a glimmer of your sweet self coming through.”
She gasped softly. “Really? That’s such a nice thing for you to say.”
“It’s the truth,” I told her. “We all have bad days, Liv.”
“Not all of us,” she said. “You haven’t met Adrian Kinzel.”
“No, I certainly have not. Who is Adrian Kinzel?”
“He’s part of the reason that I’ve been in such a horrible mood this week,” my sister explained. “He joined the firm last month to assist on the Collier Industries account.”
“Isn’t that the big one you took over last year?”
“It is,” she said. “And it’s also the big one that Adrian Kinzel is trying to poach.”
“How could that be possible?” I asked.
“Because he’s the son of a senior partner’s fraternity brother,” my sister explained. “I get the strong sense that Jeremy was backed into a corner by his friend. And now we’re all paying the price.”
“Okay, we all know how messed up that kind of thing can be,” I said, “but you’ve survived similar situations before.”
“I have,” she agreed. “And I hope to survive this mess, too. But that’s not the only challenge I’ve been dealing with. One of the twins was suspended from school for getting into a knock-down-drag-out fight with another boy. And when I stopped at Target a couple of nights ago, someone hit my car and called me an old lady when I asked if she had insurance.”
“How old was the other driver?”
Olivia huffed. “She looked about twelve,” she said. “And she was dressed like a stripper.”
I smiled. “What was she wearing?”
“Her top looked like two Band-Aids on a shoestring and I think the skirt was an old cummerbund,” she answered. “To be honest, Katie, I felt like an old lady when I started judging what she was wearing. She was in amazing shape, with a truly stunning face and gorgeous hair and the kind of body people dream about. So, you know, she could totally pull off the skimpy outfit, but when she opened her mouth and started whining, all of her exterior beauty was eliminated by the hateful, horrible things she said and the names that she called me.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” I said.
“She called me a fat cow, an ugly hog and a revolting—”
“Liv!” I cried. “I just said that I wasn’t going to ask.”
“Oh.”
“First of all, you’re none of those things,” I said. “And second, I love you no matter what you look like or what you’re wearing.”
“Well, I’ve gained a few pounds since our last trip up there,” she said. “And I found a gray hair last week.”
“Who didn’t?” I said with a laugh. “We’re all getting old.”
“I know that,” she replied. “But I’ve gone from being the mid-thirties mother of twin boys to grizzled hag seemingly overnight.”
“You are not a hag,” I said.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” my sister moaned.
“No,” I replied. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. And who cares if Adrian Kinzel or the scantily clad woman at Target disagree? What the heck do they know anyway?”
It sounded like she was crying, so I gave her a moment before inviting her to Crescent Creek for one of our Sisterhood Circle Nights. It’s something that she and I did when we were kids and our parents left us home with our younger brother when they went to dinner with friends. Once Brody went to bed, Olivia and I would brush our hair, paint our nails and make chocolate chunk cookies. Then we’d watch movies until we fell asleep.
“Oh, Katie!” she said. “I would love to come up sometime soon.”
“How about next weekend?” I asked.
She sighed. “The boys have a soccer tournament in Fort Collins next weekend.”
“Okay,” I said. “The weekend after that?”
“Cooper and I are going to New Orleans with another couple,” she said. “We’re doing a four-day weekend.”
“What about the boys?” I asked.
“They’re staying with our neighbors.”
“How about the weekend after you get back?” I suggested.
She sighed again. “We have a church thing that Friday and Saturday.”
“That sounds fun,” I said. “Why don’t you just keep it in mind? Sisterhood Circle can wait.”
“True,” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t do it this weekend. But I love you for suggesting that as a way to get out of my funk.”
“It sounds like you’re too busy to be in a funk,” I said.
She giggled. “I suppose that it does. But I’ve been in one since Adrian Kinzel at work showed his true colors and the bimbo hit my car and our usually angelic son went all WWE at school.”
“You’ll be fine,” I said. “By the time you get back from New Orleans, I bet things will be a lot different.”
“I hope so!” she replied.
“I know so,” I told her. “Trust me, sis. After four days of beignets, gumbo and Hurricanes, you’ll be feeling much, much better.”
CHAPTER 30
“We’ve got a homicide,” said Dina when she called the next afternoon. “And there’s a chance that you might recognize our John Doe.”
I winced at the unexpected announcement. I was in the Sky High kitchen gathering ingredients for cupcakes that Ivy Minkler was picking up in the morning for her staff meeting at the Crescent Creek Public Library. While my brain shuddered at the news, I dropped the measuring cup into the flour canister and sat down on a stool.
“Are you there, Katie?” Her voice was tinged with impatience. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I wasn’t expecting that sort of thing at this time of day.”
“That’s the funny thing about crime,” she said. “It happens when you’re least expecting it.”
“I guess it also happens,” I replied, “when you’re making cupcakes after the breakfast shift brought nothing but grumpy customers.”
Dina laughed. Then she said, “Our John Doe had a Sky High receipt in his pocket.”
“From when?” I asked.
“A couple of days ago,” she answered. “If your cash register is correct, he paid for four dozen cupcakes at seven-fifteen that morning.”
My mind clicked and tumbled. An early morning customer. A few minutes after we opened. Four dozen cupcakes.
“Wait a sec,” I said. “I remember that guy. He was helping his ex sort out some problem and she wanted him to buy something for dessert.”
“His ex?” Dina said. “Girlfriend or wife?”
“He didn’t specify,” I said.
“And he was buying four dozen cupcakes?” she asked in disbelief. “Were they expecting invite forty-eight grade school kids to help iron out the pro
blem?”
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with our cupcakes.”
“You’re right,” Dina replied. “It just seems kind of odd.”
“Not as odd as a John Doe,” I said. “What else did you find in his pockets?”
“A book of matches from the Moonlight,” she said. “Earl Dodd confirmed that the guy was registered at the motel, but the name he gave was bogus.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Take my word for it,” she said. “We ran the name and address that the victim used when he checked in. They’re bogus.”
“Okay,” I said. “What else?”
“That’s just it,” she answered. “There was nothing else. Your receipt and the matches were literally the only things on him. The lab didn’t even find any lint or random bits of paper in his pockets. Earl said the guy was driving a Toyota Camry, but it wasn’t at the Moonlight or anywhere near where we found the body.”
“Wedding ring?” I asked. “Wallet?”
“No,” she said. “Thus, I just told you the matches and receipt were the only things that we found.”
“Except for him,” I said.
“I’m sorry.” Dina sounded irritated again. “What are you getting at?”
“Well, you found a body,” I said. “Along with the matches and our receipt. So that means you technically found three things.”
She heaved a sigh. “I’m not in the mood, Katie.”
“Neither am I,” I said. “Where was he?”
“Behind the old gas station on Mariposa Road,” she said. “It’s the one that Jen Stefanov and Lucy Marx planned to turn into a pottery studio last year.”
“Good spot to leave a body,” I said. “Isolated, partially hidden from the road and a place that wouldn’t attract attention.”
“All true,” Dina said. “If Hal Digby and his dog didn’t go for a hike on Cortez Trail, John Doe would probably still be out there under a blue tarp.”
“Hal and his dog found the body?”
“This morning around seven,” she said.
“What was the cause of death?”