Glue, Baby, Gone

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  Lee sighed and rested her chin on her hands. “I’ve always thought that Wesley saw Bernice the way that Cesar guy on TV sees those dogs with their bad habits. Redeemable. He really, truly cared about her. No matter how messed up she was, he cared. At least he did, for a while. It took him a long, long time to decide he’d had enough.”

  “I wonder,” said Kiki, “what makes a decent, nice-looking man keep hanging around with a woman who’s seriously disturbed?”

  “I have my theories.” Lee unwound a silk scarf from her throat, folding it neatly into a square before stuffing it into her handbag. She wore an expensive fragrance, Light Blue by Dolce and Gabbana. The joyful scent of citron reminded me of the Treasure Coast of Florida, and just that suddenly I missed my home.

  “But you think Lila shot Bernice?” Kiki pressed Lee for more details. “Since Lila and Wesley were together, why would she have bothered?”

  Lee fingered a piece of paper that was sitting on the edge of the work table. After picking it up and looking at it closely, she said, “Because Bernice hounded that woman. Day and night. Lila took out restraining orders. She put motion sensitive lights around her house. She took to carrying pepper spray. It got to be too much when Bernice showed up one day at the Montessori school where Lila’s kids go.”

  Suddenly, Lee shut up. I could see she was wrestling with herself. After a short struggle, she shrugged. “I might as well tell you the worst of it. It is public record. Bernice called the Department of Children and Family. She pretended to be one of the teachers at the Montessori school, and she reported that Wesley had molested one of Lila’s daughters.”

  I could not even process that. At long last, I finally managed to sputter, “That’s so low. Wow. Talk about messing up a man’s entire life.”

  Lee agreed, slowly shaking her head. “It was awful. For everyone involved. The children had to be interviewed. A nightmare. Of course, it didn’t take long to figure out who was behind all that.”

  “What did Wesley say or do?” I wondered.

  “He was more frightened than angry. He kept warning Bernice to stay out of his life. He begged her to see reason. After all, they weren’t happy together! He even asked her family to talk with her. You know she has a sister who lives here, right? Her name’s Janice. None of that mattered. Wesley even tried to get Bernice committed. Do you know how hard that is to do? It’s almost impossible.”

  When it came to scaring people’s kids, I had to take Lila’s side and I said as much. “If a crazy woman threatened my child, I’d certainly be tempted to buy a gun and use it on her.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense.” Kiki slapped the desk top. “How could Lila have shot Bernice? She was with Wesley at the country club. At least, that’s what we’ve been told.”

  “You’re right. Lila was with Wesley. I saw them both. But you have to remember, they found Bernice half in and half out of the car. I have it on good authority that the car had been running with the heater going full blast. That would throw off the death examiner’s best estimate of the time of death.”

  “Boy, oh, boy. I’m impressed,” I said, looking at Lee with new respect.

  “I read a lot of mysteries,” she said.

  Margit toddled out of the back room. In her hands, she carried the box of pastries I’d purchased from Kaldi’s. “Lee? I thought I heard you. Eat these. Please. I have already had two and I cannot eat more. Oomph.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Shortly after Lee left, Kiki sent Margit home. “The weather is getting worse by the minute. I don’t want you driving in this. Promise that you’ll call and hang up to let me know you’ve made it home.”

  I walked the older woman to her car.

  “She is not herself these days,” Margit said as she slid behind the steering wheel. You see Kiki is not right, ja?”

  “Yes. Don’t forget that I am planning to take her to see her doctor tomorrow.”

  “Of course. She is depressed I think. She loves her new little boy, but her body is not good. Hormones.”

  “I think so too. Now let me scrape off the windows for you. Go ahead and warm up the car, okay?”

  That left me definitely missing the Sunshine State. How on earth did I ever live here? My fingers felt like blocks of wood. My nose ran. The soft snow had turned into a mean pelting mess as tiny balls of ice hurled themselves at my skin.

  Kiki decided to close early. She sent out an email blast, warning customers that she was closing up shop in a half an hour. While the time ticked past, I helped Kiki cut out hearts for a Valentine’s Day project. Usually she’s pretty chatty, coming up with ideas for future promotions. Catching me up on the latest about her customers. Before Christmas, she had bubbled over with excitement about the new baby. But as we cut and packaged pieces, she had nothing much to say. I realized she hadn’t even bothered to call Brawny and ask about her baby. That hit me hard.

  She definitely was not her normal self. To keep from dwelling on her mood, I chattered like a chipmunk, telling Kiki what we were doing at the store.

  “You’re able to source all your merchandise by buying through estate sales and consignment shops?”

  “Sixty percent. Of course, we don’t turn around and sell those raw materials we buy. We recycle, upcycle, and repurpose everything. Most of what we get doesn’t look like much. It’s our job to see the treasure in the trash.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “We pick up bottles that wash up on the beach. We even offer people a small amount for bringing them in. Then we decorate the outside of the bottles and sell them as vases.”

  “That’s pretty iffy. I mean, what if no one brings in any bottles? Then what do you sell?”

  “That’s the best part. Skye is always coming up with new ideas. I make regular runs to consignment shops and buy raw materials. Oh, and we’re not opposed to stopping by a curb and picking up junk. Right before I left, I saw one of those pressed wood computer desks. I borrowed Poppy’s truck and we picked it up. The whole unit didn’t weigh much. Because the pressed wood warps easily, the piece looked pretty rough. Poppy glued portions back together and sanded them flat. Skye decoupaged most of the piece with maps of Florida. We put it on the floor and it sold in an hour.”

  “But that’s a big piece. You wouldn’t get those very often.”

  “No. However, Skye has been turning stray drawers from dressers into cool under-bed storage containers. We find those all the time.”

  “Could we run by and see Bonnie on our way back to the house?” she asked. “I want her to know we’re here for her.”

  “I was going to suggest that myself.”

  By the time we arrived at the parking lot of the hospital, I was talked out. By contrast, my friend was curiously quiet. The weight of the conversation had tired me out. “I could use a bottle of water. Let’s hit the gift shop and get more magazines for Bonnie,” I said, checking the time on a big black-rimmed institutional clock. “If we hurry, we can get there before it closes.”

  The volunteer in the pink jacket counted change, as a prelude to finishing her workday. “We’re closed,” she said, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

  Small rant: Why on earth do people who hate people volunteer for jobs that put them face-to-face with people? In particular, why go into retail, if you hate the public? Hello? Isn’t that asking for a string of one bad day after another? End of rant.

  “That’s a shame,” I said, pointing to the clock on an adjoining wall. That’s one thing about hospitals, they are big believers in honking huge clocks. “Because it’s four fifty and your sign on the door says you won’t be closing for another ten minutes.”

  “All right, all right. Make it snappy,” she said. Narrowing her eyes, she added, “And you’d better make it worth my while to recount this change. Did you know that the United States pays 1.7 cents to make one penny? No wonder we have such a large national debt! We need to do away with this nonsense. Heard someone talking about it on NPR. All these coins
? A huge waste of resources. In fact, we’d probably have done away with them by now if not for the folks who make those silly coin counting machines you see at the grocery stores.”

  I had to admire her patriotism.

  “Couldn’t agree with you more.” From the floral case, I grabbed a nice bouquet in a vase. In a second cooler, I found bottled water. Kiki dumped a stack of magazines onto the counter.

  Speaking to the clerk, I said, “I’ll pay you in cash, or credit card, or by check. Whatever is easiest.”

  “Credit card.” Her mouth settled into a flat line. Her eyes were beady behind glasses smeared with fingerprints. I tried not to stare at her as she shuffled through the items, ringing them up, but there was an unsettling aspect to her appearance. My brain struggled to process the disparity, but it eluded me. As I watched her do the work of tallying up our purchases, I gave up trying to understand what was wrong. I’d learned from crafting with Skye that answers come unbidden when you quit chasing them around a bush.

  Kiki wandered around a bit, getting ideas for Valentine’s Day. She picked up a box of chocolates in a cute cardstock container fashioned to look like a woman’s purse. I could see that her creative wheels were turning a mile a minute. I signed the bill and waited patiently for the volunteer to decide which of the slips would go into the drawer and which would be returned to me.

  “Oh, my heavens! Cara! Cara, look!”

  The volunteer and I both swiveled our heads to follow Kiki’s directional finger-pointing. My friend stood in front of a glass display case mounted on the wall, with her attention directed to a set of fat plastic letters spelling out, “We LOVE our volunteers!”

  But I had no idea why the sign mattered.

  “Cara? Is your phone charged? Mine’s dead.” Kiki came over and opened her palm in a demand for my device.

  “Sure.” I handed over my iPhone. “What are you looking at?”

  Kiki pointed at a photo. A glare from the overhead lights obscured the image. I shifted my stance and stared into the smarmy countenance of Bernice Stottlemeyer.

  CHAPTER 26

  “If that doesn’t tie Bernice to the disappearance of Bonnie’s baby, I don’t know what would. I’m sending this to Detweiler and Hadcho.” When Kiki was finished pushing buttons, she approached the strange woman behind the cash register.

  “Who’s in charge of the volunteers? What’s the name of your supervisor?”

  In response, the clerk folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her jaw. Given that her wig was now crooked, the effect struck me as more comical than authoritative. I covered my mouth so as not to laugh.

  “Why do you want to know those things? How about you leave your name and phone number with me? I’ll give it to my boss. She can call you.”

  I’d had about enough. “See, that woman? Your volunteer of the week? She was murdered in the parking lot at Lambert Field.”

  “Whoa. That was Marie? She’s the dead person at the airport?”

  “Marie?” Kiki and I shrugged at each other.

  I pointed to the picture on my phone, which was still in Kiki’s hand. “What’s the name of this woman? What did you call her?”

  “Marie Livesay.”

  “Really?” Kiki’s eyes widened. “You have to be kidding. I’ve met her attorney, been to her house, and talked to her husband. When I did, she went by the name Bernice Stottlemeyer.”

  Okay, the woman in the photo wore her hair in a crop that was totally different from the style preferred by the Bernice who frequented our restaurant, and those big glasses with the oversized frames changed her look, too, but Kiki had been right. The volunteer was Bernice Stottlemeyer.

  The clerk dialed down the attitude considerably. Chewing on her bottom lip, she stared at the photo on the phone, glanced up at the picture on the wall and nodded. “We all knew her as Denise. She wasn’t nice or friendly. Our boss said she was shy. I thought she was stuck up. I was right. She was full of herself.”

  “Sounds like the Bernice we all knew and hated. By the way, my name is Kiki Lowenstein-Detweiler, and this is my friend Cara Mia Delgatto.”

  “I’m Midge Wonderlick.” After a furtive glance around, she said, “Marie only got the job here because her brother-in-law, Douglas Livesay, is a big shot. On the hospital board or something. See, we didn’t really need more volunteers, especially not here in the gift shop. As for being ‘Volunteer of the Week,’ that’s a crock. Once a month, they pull a name out of the hat because the CEO of the hospital went to a stupid motivational program where they taught him that giving praise makes people happy. That might work if the praise was sincere, but not when it’s totally random.”

  No kidding. I bit back a chuckle.

  “Was she working here when the Gossage baby was stolen?” Kiki asked in a hushed voice.

  “I think so. In fact, I’m sure of it. Would it help if I got the schedule so you could see it? Better yet, I’ll make a copy of it for you. That way you’ll have it.”

  With that Midge disappeared into the office.

  “I can’t believe how that woman went from our worst enemy to our best ally in nothing flat. What’re the odds of that?” I shook my head.

  “Hey, nothing like a nasty villain to bring people together. The odds are good that people will turn against you when you’re as awful as Bernice Stottlemeyer. If she had treated other folks like they were human beings, we would have never gotten all this help. It never occurred to Bernice that her own behavior was the trigger for her problems. No, this is a perfect example of how being a jerk will come back and bite you on the butt.”

  “Posthumously,” I added.

  Kiki laughed. The sound reminded me that my old friend was in there, somewhere, just struggling with all the changes life was dealing her. “Necrophiliac butt-biting. What will they think of next?”

  Midge returned with a sheet of paper still warm from the copier. “Marie is on the schedule for the same time that the baby was abducted. I remember because I was here in the gift shop when all the cop cars pulled up outside. Marie was really weird that day. Stranger than usual. She asked if she could do my job for me.”

  “Do your job?” I repeated.

  “Yes. We all take turns dropping off flowers. She offered me twenty bucks if I’d let her do the rounds and drop off the florals. We’ve got this really nice cart. The person in charge puts a damask tablecloth over the top, so it looks really fancy. Then she or he loads the cart by checking the names against the floral deliveries. It’s definitely the fun part of this position, delivering a little joy like that. Ringing up purchases is…a drag. Customers who come in are stressed because they’ve got a sick loved one here. I get that. It’s just, hey, don’t take it out on me!”

  I could see where she was going, and I hesitated long enough to be respectful. “Could we see the cart?”

  “Why?” She fisted her hands on her hips. Miss Huffy was back, and Midge, the nice clerk, had taken a hike.

  “Someone managed to sneak a baby out of here. The police can’t figure out how it was done. We don’t know either. If we could put two and two together, that might move the investigation along,” I explained. “We’re really worried now that Bernice is dead. What if the baby is out there somewhere in the cold?”

  “On top of that,” Kiki said, “if it’s happened once, it could happen again. Especially if the police can’t work out the way it was done. You’d hate to see that, wouldn’t you? Maybe Bernice—or Marie—was part of a ring of people who are stealing babies. I know she wanted a child, and she wanted it badly. Maybe she got in contact with a bunch of crooks who steal kids from their mothers. It’s possible that they killed her just to keep her quiet.”

  Kiki’s theory was certainly news to me, but it made about as much sense as anything else I’d heard. Clearly, she’d been thinking this over.

  “Be right back,” Midge said. She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Kiki and I waited for what seemed like hours. I glanced at the c
lock. “I sure hope that after all this, we’ll still get to see Bonnie.”

  “Even if we don’t, we’re doing her a favor. I have a hunch this cart is how Bernice got the baby out of the room. Look, there it is!”

  Midge came out of a back room. She was pushing a metal cart on rubber casters. “We keep this in a storage closet. I grabbed a tablecloth, too, so you could see how it looks when it’s in use.”

  “What do you want to bet that’s the same storage closet where the janitor found the device to disable a RFID? The one that Detweiler told us was found on the premises?”

  “Good thinking,” Kiki said. I squatted down on my haunches to inspect the lower shelf. You forget how little babies are when they’re just born. Holding Ty had reminded me that I buy a turkey for Thanksgiving that weighs more than he did at birth. Shoot, I decorate pumpkins that are his size for Halloween. Sure enough, a baby could very easily be hidden on the lower shelf of this cart. The draped white cloth would be the perfect camouflage.

  “My phone?” I held out my hand, and she passed it to me. I took a couple of pictures of the bottom shelf, before stepping away from the cart to get a photo of the whole thing. An idea began to form, the pieces coalesced into a coherent plan. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Bernice was in this all along with Jana Higgins. Jana attended your baby album crop looking for Bonnie. After all, Bernice knew that you and Bonnie were friends, and that you both had approximately the same due date. She had to figure that Bonnie would attend the class on baby albums at your store. That’s how they came up with the idea of taking Bonnie a Vanilla Coke laced with Valium. Jana brings by the cola, sees that Bonnie drinks a little, and remember Bonnie is already taking pain killers because of her C-section. All she needed was a small extra dose to knock her out. Jana text-messages Bernice when she’s leaving the room. Then Bernice comes up with the cart, rolls it into Bonnie’s room, puts the baby on the bottom shelf, and goes down the hall to a storage closet. Once she’s there, she removes the RFID from the baby’s ankle.”