by Parker, Ava
Michelle stood, every muscle in her body rigid with anger, and in a barely controlled voice said, “I hope you’re not wasting all of your time focusing on me, when my best friend needs your help. It’s time for you to go, detectives. I have work to do.”
Carlisle was undaunted. “Just one more thing, Mrs. Perkins – you and Maddy exchanged text messages on Monday night. It must have slipped your mind when we asked when you had last communicated with her.” Smiling mirthlessly, she asked, “What did you talk about?”
Michelle looked at her blankly, then seemed to search her memory. “I think she wanted to make sure we could sit down together this week. Business meeting. I forgot all about it.”
“Do you mind if we take a look at your phone to verify?”
Michelle almost laughed at Carlisle’s request. “After you come in here accusing me? I don’t think so.”
On their way out, Carlisle waved Eddie Perkins over. He ran-walked out of the dining room and met them at the front door. She said, “Where were you Monday night, Mr. Perkins?”
Before her husband could answer, Michelle’s controlled voice came from behind the detectives. “Don’t answer, Eddie. These officers are on their way out.”
Kincaid cordially said goodbye and Carlisle said, “We’ll talk again soon, Mr. and Mrs. Perkins.”
When they were back on the street, Kincaid said, “I think you ruined my rapport with Michelle Perkins.”
“You just smile nice and give her a wink and you’ll have her back. Besides, I was the one busting her balls, you didn’t say anything.”
“Guilt by association.” He gave his partner a toothy grin. “You were great. She’s all riled up and Iverson is going to walk in there, tell her Susan Burns is dead and she’ll fold and tell us everything we need to know. Case closed.”
“Would that it were that easy.”
“Ain’t that the truth? What the hell is going on here, Judy?” He was silent a moment, then said, “I’m afraid Madeline Gardner is already dead.”
“It’s looking more and more likely, Jerry. She’s been gone at least seventy-two hours. We’ve got a dead body from the same restaurant and the list of suspects is getting longer, not shorter, and we’re still guessing at motive, which doesn’t help. Michelle Perkins might be pissed, but she’s also under a lot of pressure running things alone. Her anger could just be legitimate stress and fear and have nothing to do with guilt. She’s right; we can’t afford to focus on her or anyone else. Not yet anyway.”
“At least we can pretty much rule out a stranger abduction. Unless Susan’s death is some kind of stars-aligning coincidence, there’s more to Maddy’s disappearance than some guy off the street throwing her in the trunk of his car. Someone she knows took her and killed Susan.”
They both thought about that for a minute. “I’d better call Iverson and let him know we’re done at Dovetail.”
While her partner called the homicide detective, Carlisle checked her cell for messages. Someone had called from an area code she didn’t recognize. She hit play, put the phone to her ear and heard Clara Gardner’s clear, unaccented voice. The gist of what she was saying hit home and Carlisle was all attention. She saved the message and handed the phone to her partner when he hung up with Iverson. “Listen to this.”
He did.
“When did it come in?”
“Close to an hour ago.”
“The sister found a witness. Maybe she’s not such a pain in the ass.”
Carlisle smiled. “Depends on what she did after she found the witness.” She had already hit redial and put the ringing phone to her ear. “Clara? It’s Detective Carlisle.” She listened for a few seconds, then said, “Right. We’re on our way.” To her partner she said, “She’s with Ben Radcliffe. They took the witness to a pub on Second Avenue.”
“Jesus. At least she didn’t bring the witness home with her. And why’s she hanging out with Ben Radcliffe?”
“I guess they teamed up.”
“What if he’s the bad guy?”
Carlisle sighed. “Can’t save the people from themselves, Jerry. Besides, he’s not the bad guy.”
“Maybe not, but if Clara gets herself killed doing her own investigation, I’m going to knock some sense into her.”
“By then, it’ll be too late. Come on; let’s go knock some sense into her now. And talk to this witness while we’re at it.”
They drove Carlisle’s sedan a few blocks and parked on the street outside a bar and grill that earned its place on the brewpub bandwagon because it served more than craft beer on tap and made its own catsup. It was dimly lit and clean with a lot of booths and a pervasive smell of sausage and beer. It was no waterfront bistro, but nice and homey, with an obviously-happy clientele filling the dining room and bar.
Clara and her two guests had an oversized booth in the back. When she saw the detectives approaching she moved from one side of the witness to sit beside Ben on the other side of the U-shaped booth. Carlisle scooted in first and Kincaid sat on the end, effectively closing off their witness’s means of escape should he decide to beat a hasty retreat.
“This is Scotty,” said Clara, indicating the scruffy man now sandwiched in at the far end of the booth. He was halfway through a huge bacon cheeseburger and an order of French fries.
Kincaid and Carlisle introduced themselves, declining Scotty’s greasy hand. The guy had dirt under his nails and a messy beard, but his eyes were bright and clear and his clothes dingy but street trendy. A watch cap tried to hide an uncombed mop of hair that matched his reddish-blond beard. Kincaid guessed he was in his mid-twenties, but he could have been younger under all of that dust and debris. Scotty didn’t smile, but nodded solemnly at the detectives, wiped his hands on a paper napkin and took a long pull from a big glass of what looked like Coca-Cola.
A waiter approached and Kincaid pointed at Clara and Ben’s coffee cups. “We’ll take two more of those.” To Scotty he said abruptly, “So you think you saw Madeline Gardner on Monday night?”
“If she’s the lady in the picture then I know I saw her.”
Ben Radcliffe set a flyer on the table with a nice color picture of Maddy and an appeal to call if anyone had seen her. “We put these up around Gigi’s and Maddy’s apartment.”
“Ah,” said Kincaid. “So you called Miss Gardner here and told her you’d seen her sister?”
“Didn’t have to. I saw them putting the signs up and walked right over.” He pointed at Clara and said gravely, “I thought she was going to faint when I said I’d seen her.”
“I wasn’t expecting such a quick response,” she explained.
“How do you know it was Madeline Gardner that you saw?” asked Carlisle.
“I saw the woman in that picture,” he repeated. “If that’s Madeline Gardner then that’s who I saw.”
“What time did you see her?”
“I don’t know. It was dark – had been for a while. I didn’t exactly check my watch.” He took another drink of Coke. “I remember her because she gave me a ten-dollar bill. And because she was really pretty and nice. I was sitting by the corner – Pine and Second – with some buddies and she came out of the building there and looked down the street like she was going to get a cab. So I sauntered over and asked if she might be interested in making a contribution to my evening’s revelry. She laughed and said that since I was so honest about it she would, and she pulled a ten out of her handbag and gave it to me.”
“That’s a lot of spare change, Scotty,” said Kincaid with heavy skepticism.
“That’s exactly why I remember her,” he replied guilelessly.
“Any reason you sauntered up to this particular woman?” asked Carlisle.
“Nope. I make it a habit of asking every passer-by for a little donation. Improves my odds of
getting one.”
“Right. So she gave you ten bucks and then what?” prompted Kincaid.
“I thanked her kindly and offered to hail her a taxi, but she said she was waiting for a friend to pick her up, so I went back to my pals and showed them what I got. A minute or two later I saw a car pull up and the lady, her sister, walked over to the curb and leaned down to talk through the open window. Then she got in and they drove away.”
“Did you see the driver, Scotty?” asked Carlisle.
“Nah, the lady was blocking him. Besides, I wasn’t really looking.”
“But it was a man?”
“Could’ve been a woman. I didn’t see.”
“What kind of car?”
“Grey, silver. Shiny. Nice. I don’t know, man.”
“Was it a two-door, four-door? Sporty, sedan?”
Scotty looked thoughtful. “Two-door, now that you mention it. Sports car, but not like a Porsche or a Ferrari, you know?” He picked up his burger and took a huge bite. The waiter returned with a coffee pot and two extra cups and Scotty tapped the edge of his glass to indicate he wanted a refill.
When the waiter was gone, Carlisle asked, “Did Madeline looked distressed or reluctant to get in the car?”
Swallowing, Scotty said, “No. I mean, she was waiting for him. If she didn’t want to get in the car, why would she have been waiting?”
“How far away were you?”
“Ten feet. Fifteen.” He shoved a few French fries in his mouth and shrugged and tapped his temple. “I got twenty-twenty vision.”
“License plate?”
“Nah. I stopped paying attention when she closed the door.”
They asked a few more questions, but didn’t get anything else out of the man. Kincaid said, “You’ve been a lot of help, Scotty. How can we get ahold of you if we have more questions?”
“I have a cell phone.” He rattled off the number. “GoPhone. My mom adds minutes to it every month so she can check on me.”
“Does your mom worry about you, Scotty?” Carlisle’s expression had softened.
He shrugged again. “I guess, but I’m happy. I travel up and down the coast, go where I want, meet new people…” His voice trailed off.
“You’re a traveler?”
Scotty just looked at her, then said, “My mom lectures me enough, Detective Carlisle. I don’t need any more warnings.”
She sighed. If one of her children decided to travel around America, sleeping wherever they found a bed – or a bench – with no job, no money and no address, she’d kill them.
Scotty declined Clara’s offer of dessert but accepted the two twenties she handed him. With a disarming smile that almost made Carlisle forget the dirty fingernails and vagabond lifestyle, Scotty said, “Time for me to say my goodbyes. I have money to spend and pleasures to seek.”
When he was gone, Kincaid turned to Clara and Ben. “So you two are colluding?”
Clara replied, “Our collusion turned up a witness, Kincaid. You can’t complain about that. Besides, it’s more collaboration than collusion.” Clara let herself smile a little. For the first time since she found out her sister was missing, she felt like she was making progress in finding her.
Kincaid did not want to burst her bubble, but Clara had to know what she was dealing with. “Clara, Susan Burns was found murdered today.”
Nobody spoke. Ben looked confused and Clara’s jaw dropped. Carlisle fixed the two amateur detectives with her best shit just got real look.
Finally, Clara said, “Susan from Dovetail?” When the detectives both nodded somberly, Ben got it.
“She works at Maddy’s restaurant?”
“She’s the front manager,” explained Clara. “Tall redhead. I can’t believe she’s dead. How did it happen?”
Carlisle said, “A neighbor found her in her apartment earlier this evening. That’s about all we can tell you right now, Clara, but you have to start being careful. No more interviewing witnesses, no more poking around Dovetail and Gigi’s.”
Clara felt sick. She pushed her coffee cup away and rested her head in her hands.
Ben put an arm on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” When she didn’t respond he said, “Clara?”
Carlisle reached across the table and took Clara’s hand. “Do you feel sick? Are you going to faint?” She had seen this happen before. The sudden realization that a loved one could already be dead and they crumble. The bottom falls out. She held onto Clara’s hand and waited.
Finally, she responded with a nod. “It’s passing.” Ben looked stricken, not sure what to do, but Kincaid and Carlisle knew that sometimes you had to let a person throw up or catch her if she fell, or simply wait it out. Raising her head, Clara asked in a raspy voice, “Do you think Maddy is dead?”
“There’s no evidence to indicate that,” said Kincaid. “Susan was killed and left in her own apartment, the place was torn apart, and the door left partly open. Whoever did it was either totally disorganized or intended her to be found quickly. There are no similarities to your sister’s disappearance except that Susan worked in the restaurant Maddy owns.”
Carlisle went on, “Don’t get ahead of yourself here, Clara. Don’t start thinking the worst. But, for God’s sake, stay out of the investigation.”
“I can’t do that. She’s my sister.”
Kincaid looked at Ben. “Can you talk some sense into her?”
Ben studied Clara, who was glaring steadfastly at Kincaid. “I don’t think so, detective.”
One look at Clara affirmed Ben’s statement. The out-of-body terror had passed and she seemed even steelier than before. “Someone knows what happened.”
“Stay away from it, Clara,” Carlisle warned.
Ignoring the detective, she said, “I don’t know what kind of car Eddie drives these days, but in the past he’s favored sports cars.”
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Carlisle said, “That’s good, Clara. That’s the kind of thing we need to know, but don’t approach him or anyone else.” She held her stare until Clara looked away. “How long have you known Eddie?”
“I went to their wedding. I’d known Michelle from visits to my sister and Maddy was short a date, so she brought me. I came out for the week and we went together. I met Eddie at the rehearsal dinner and I’ve seen him on every trip to Seattle since then. He always comes into Dovetail and has dinner with me if Maddy is cooking. Michelle usually joins us, but she’s always distracted by what’s going on around her.”
She waved to the waiter and asked for a cup of chamomile tea. He looked skeptical but said he would see what they had. “Frankly, I can’t imagine Eddie hurting Maddy or Susan or anyone else he cares about, but I don’t trust anybody anymore.”
“You can’t imagine Eddie hurting anyone he cared about, but what about someone he didn’t care about?” asked Carlisle. “Does he have a temper? Did Maddy ever mention something like that?”
She took a sip of her tea, silently delivered by their waiter. “Once, maybe a year ago, one of the waiters got into an argument with Michelle. She fired him on the spot and the guy lost it. Started throwing dishes and almost knocked over a table. Anyway, Eddie happened to be in the office that day and heard the noise. He came out, picked the guy up and threw him bodily out of the restaurant. It took both Michelle and Maddy to stop him from beating the guy out on the sidewalk, and Maddy said it took some time and a lot of single malt scotch to calm him down.”
Kincaid looked irritated. “Miss Gardner, why didn’t you tell us any of this before?”
Clara flashed a rueful smile at Ben and said, “You can tell that I’ve displeased the detectives when they call me Miss Gardner instead of Clara.” There was an angry edge in her voice now. “I honestly didn’t think of it. The waiter was arguing with Michelle,
not my sister, and Eddie went after the waiter, not my sister. Even if the incident had occurred to me before now, I wouldn’t have thought it was relevant.”
Carlisle understood that Clara’s anger was coming from not knowing where her sister was, or whether someone Maddy trusted could be responsible for her disappearance. She said gently, “I want you to think about every incidence of turmoil at Dovetail, anything Maddy ever told you, and tell us about it. Kincaid and I are naturally suspicious of everyone.” She flashed a shark-like grin at Ben. “Even you, Mr. Radcliffe. And we’re good investigators. You may think that no one has as much motivation as you to find Madeline, but we also want your sister to come home safe and sound and we are very good at what we do.”
“How often do you find your missing person alive?” Clara challenged.
“More often than not, Clara.”
There was silence between the walls of the booth. Their server set the bill at the end of the table and Ben put a credit card over it and handed it back before the waiter had even turned around.
“I know you both want to find Maddy, but you have to understand that I won’t stop looking either.”
“Then you have to be careful, Clara, much more careful than you have been.” Kincaid narrowed his eyes. “And if you obstruct our investigation, or get too close to the line of fire, I’ll arrest you myself and put you in a cell where I know you’ll be safe.”
Clara tried hard to scowl at Kincaid. He was only a few years older, but he was pretty determined to put her in her place. She narrowed her eyes and glowered, but before she could open her mouth in retort, Ben and Detective Carlisle began laughing.
“How long are you going to ground her, Kincaid?” asked Carlisle through the laughter.
Ben added, “I’m waiting for Clara to stick out her tongue.”