A Witness in Disguise (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 10)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “Yes, but Graham and Meagan had nothing in common. They ran in different crowds. He was a drug addict and, rumor has it, a male prostitute. Even his own sister thinks he probably got bombed, stumbled into the river and drowned.”

  “Could you give me his sister’s name?” I asked.

  Detective James massaged his chin, apparently thinking it over. Finally, he said, “Her name is Karen Taylor. She lives in the trailer park on the West side of town - Number 151. Keep me in the loop if you discover something new, okay? I’m not really supposed to be giving this information out but, quite honestly, we can use all the help we can get right now.”

  Carter gave a little bow of acknowledgement as he accepted the police reports. “Of course, detective, we will keep you informed.”

  Chapter 3

  Over a lunch of cheeseburgers and French fries, Carter and I immersed ourselves in the police reports that Detective James had so graciously provided.

  “First thing we should do is go to Meagan’s house and have a look around,” Carter said. “Wonder who’s been taking care of it since April.”

  “Good idea. Maybe we can talk to the neighbors while we’re there.” I dragged a French fry through a mound of ketchup and popped it into my mouth. The greasy morsel was like heaven after the three-day “fasting” I’d just completed. My friend Jacky had suggested we try the fad diet in order to lose a few pounds for bikini season. Never in all my life had I been so grouchy. No food, no wine and no chocolate is like being in food jail.

  Carter had barely touched his food - he was so engrossed in the police report. I bet he’d never been on a juicing diet in his life.

  “What I don’t quite understand is the supposed dark-colored van that Cliff Collins saw driving away from Meagan’s house,” he said. “They could never confirm if a van was actually in the neighborhood that night.”

  “Well, it is possible Cliff Collins made an honest mistake. Maybe it was an SUV, or some similar type of vehicle.”

  “I want to talk to this Cliff person as soon as we can,” Carter said. “He was the first one to see the crime scene. I’d like to pick his brain for more details of what he remembers from that night.”

  I stole a few French fries from Carter’s plate. He didn’t seem to notice. “Detective James mentioned he was a lawyer. Let’s get the address to his office and pay him a visit.”

  Carter consulted his tablet and within a few seconds, we had an address for Cliff D. Collins, Attorney at Law. “What are the chances he’ll have the time to see us today?”

  “Call and find out.”

  He called the office number and a young woman answered. We told the secretary who we were, that we’d been hired to assist in the Meagan Hart case. She informed us that Mr. Collins would be able to see us at 3:00.

  Glancing at his watch, Carter said, “That gives us two and a half hours. We should head over to Meagan’s house as soon as possible.”

  “Good, but are you gonna finish your lunch?”

  “Nope, I had a big breakfast.” He slid his plate next to mine. “Want the rest of my fries?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Following the commands on the GPS, we arrived at Meagan’s house twenty minutes later. I was already regretting the extra French fries, my stomach gurgling in protest. I tried not to think of all those empty calories making their way to my hips.

  When we pulled into the driveway, we parked behind a white Prius, the license plate said, smile89. “That’s probably Meagan’s car,” I said. “Mark mentioned it was still here.”

  The house was nothing fancy, just a basic ranch with dark brown siding and white shutters but no garage. There didn’t appear to be much of a yard, mostly pine needles and scrubby grass but lots of privacy with all the trees and the forest as a backyard.

  Carter and I approached the front door and knocked although we hadn’t expected anyone to answer. After a few minutes, we assumed nobody was home. In usual Carter fashion, he walked the perimeter of the house, searching for open windows or doors but everything was shut up tightly.

  “Let’s go see if the neighbor is home. Maybe he or she will know if someone is living here.” The nearest neighbor to the right was at least 500 yards away - tall, thick shrubs dividing the properties.

  The house next door was a similar style ranch, but this one had a front porch. A woman, probably in her seventies, was sitting in a rocking chair with a Siamese cat in her lap. The curlers in her hair had bobby pins sticking out every which way.

  I waved to her in a friendly manner as we approached. “Hello, Ma’am? Can we bother you for a few minutes of your time?”

  The woman nudged the cat off her lap and slowly stood up with a hand on her lower back for support. “Yes? Can I help you with something?”

  “I hope so.” I introduced us as private detectives and the woman raised her gray, wiry eyebrows in astonishment.

  “Private detectives?” she said. “I’ve never met one before. I’m Verna Krause.” She held out her hand, kept the other on her lower back as she remained slightly crooked. “I had hip surgery a few months ago so pardon me if I’m a little slow.”

  We shook hands and I told her we’d like to talk about Meagan Hart. “We’ve been hired to look into her case,” I said.

  “Who hired you?” she asked. “Couldn’t possibly be her father?”

  “Meagan’s boyfriend, Mark Gillespie, have you ever met him?”

  “Sure, nice young man. I thought they broke up.”

  “Yes, they did,” I said. “About a month before she disappeared. Now, I know you talked to the police soon after Meagan was kidnapped but we’d like to ask you a few more questions if that’s okay.”

  “Well, sure. I suppose that’s alright. Would you both like to come inside? I have some iced-tea just brewed this morning.” Carter offered his hand and she graciously accepted his help.

  Once inside, Verna showed us to the kitchen area, but the table was covered with pieces of wood, several small knives and blades and bottles of glue. She pushed them to the side. “Sorry for the mess. My husband Frank has taken up carving wooden animal figurines. Ever since he retired, that’s all he does, day after day. I guess it’s good he has a hobby.”

  “Where is your husband?” I asked.

  “He went to the grocery store - should be back soon.” She poured some hazy brownish liquid into two cups. “Would you like your tea sweetened?”

  I really didn’t care for iced-tea but, since she’d already poured the glasses, I couldn’t say no. “No sugar for me, thanks.”

  Verna set a glass in front of each of us and then took her time lowering herself into her chair, again with Carter’s assistance. She gave him a wide, toothy grin that wouldn’t quit. She was enamored and I couldn’t blame her.

  Carter smiled back at her, but I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable under her unrelenting gaze. “So, Ms. Krause …”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Oh please, call me Verna.”

  “Okay Verna, if you don’t mind, could you tell us how long you’ve been neighbors with George and Meagan?”

  “Well, let’s see. I think George and Meagan moved in next door about ten years ago. Meagan was only in eighth grade. She was such a pretty girl, even with braces.”

  “So, do you have any idea what happened to Meagan’s mother?” Carter asked.

  “She died from Leukemia when Meagan was seven or eight. I bet it wasn’t easy raising a daughter alone but he did the best he could. Meagan turned out to be a lovely, respectable young woman.” Verna’s smile faded and a worried expression took its place. “I pray to God every day that she’s okay although I guess after all this time …” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry, it’s still hard to talk about this.”

  I gave her a moment to compose herself. “What did George do for work?”

  “He was a pilot for United Airlines back in the nineties. He took an early retirement package when his wife died. He certainly coul
dn’t be off traveling the world with a young girl at home to take care of.”

  “So, aside from raising his daughter, what did George do with all his spare time?”

  She shrugged. “He liked hiking in the woods. He even made a trail leading to the river, you should take a walk back there; it is very pretty. Also, he liked to do projects around the house. I’m not sure if you know this, but George had a bad fall last winter. Poor thing landed right on his head and hasn’t been right since. He’s staying over at the Holbrook facility. I’ve been to visit a few times but he didn’t even recognize me. The nurses are taking good care of him though, so that’s good.”

  “Do you know if anyone is living at Meagan’s house?” I asked. “There’s a white Prius parked in the driveway.”

  “That’s Meagan’s car but, as far as I know, no one’s actually been living there since April. Someone does check in on the place from time to time.”

  “Who?”

  “Not sure, exactly. She drives a black car. She must have a key to get in but she never stays very long, maybe twenty minutes or less.”

  “When was the last time she came?” I asked.

  “A few days ago.”

  “Did George have a girlfriend?”

  “Not that I was aware of. But the woman who comes to the house is much younger than George’s age. I’m not sure why I think that because I haven’t seen her face close up. She walks like a younger person, I guess. I think she had dark hair. It’s not Meagan’s friend, Lizzy. I’ve met her a few times. Lizzy has blonde hair.”

  “Verna, did you notice any strange guys lurking around her house before the night of April third or since then?”

  “You mean, like a peeping Tom?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No. I would’ve called the police.”

  From Verna’s kitchen, I could barely see Meagan’s house because of the overgrown shrubs. “So I guess you don’t remember seeing a dark colored van parked in her driveway that night?”

  She shook her head and one of the curlers almost fell out. She’d obviously forgotten they were still in her hair. “Nope. I go to bed pretty early these days. I take a pill and I’m out like a light.”

  I handed Verna my business card. “Could I ask a huge favor? If you happen to see the woman with the black car come back to Meagan’s house, could you give me a call?”

  “Sure,” she said, with an amused expression. “Would you like me to get her license plate number, too?”

  I chuckled. “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Verna giggled like a schoolgirl. “Are you kidding? I have nothing better to do.”

  “One more question,” I said, leaning in secretively. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare key to get inside Meagan’s house, would you? We’d really like to have a look around.”

  Her smile was reassuring. “Yes, George gave me a spare key years ago, just in case of emergencies. Let me go get it for you.”

  When she handed me the key, I said, “You’re a peach, Verna. We’ll give this back as soon as we’re done over there.”

  “No hurry,” she said. “Whatever it takes to help you find out what happened to Meagan.”

  When we left Verna’s, we headed directly next door and got inside with no problem. The house was dark and I detected the faint smell of lemon. I flicked the light switch in the kitchen but no lights came on. “Electricity must have been shut off,” I said.

  Carter pulled back some curtains and the sunlight poured in. “Obviously no one has been paying the utilities.”

  The home was modestly appointed and the furniture appeared to be lived in. I expected to see more dust but someone had been keeping the place tidy. I was drawn to the fireplace mantel and the framed photos of Meagan and her father. I pointed to a little girl with blonde braids. “Meagan must have been about five years old in this one.”

  The photo had been taken on a beach somewhere with her mother and father, who both appeared to be in their mid thirties. Her mother had blonde hair and blue eyes, just like Meagan. Her father was a strapping, good-looking man with sandy colored hair and a big, toothy smile. “It’s so sad, isn’t it?” I said to Carter. “They look like a sweet family.”

  “Nobody said life was fair.”

  Carter was right and he would know. He had suffered through his own personal hell after his only daughter overdosed five years earlier, ultimately resulting in his divorce. Although he rarely spoke of this, I knew the memories haunted him. How could they not?

  Carter searched the rest of the house while I spent the better part of an hour looking through Meagan’s bedroom, which was painted a soft lavender color matching the duvet on her bed. Her bookshelf was stacked with volumes of oldies but goodies: Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew and other young adult classics. I wondered if those were the books her mother had read to her before she died.

  Meagan didn’t have an abundance of clothing, shoes or even purses. Her closet was only big enough to hang a few dozen articles and they were mostly casual attire. There was one formal dress, probably worn at a high school prom. Her dressers were filled with scrubs, mostly brightly colored with cartoonish characters, which I assumed she had worn to work as a pediatric dental hygienist.

  Under the small computer desk was an accordion file of bills. As far as I could tell, she had been organized and her invoice statements indicated she paid her debts on time; at least, until three months ago.

  I wondered what would eventually happen to the house if Meagan never came back. If George remained at his assisted living facility, the house would probably fall into foreclosure.

  When Carter poked his head into the room, he tapped his watch. “We need to head out pretty soon, you almost done?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to take a look in her car before we leave.”

  We locked the house back up and went to check out the Prius. The inside of the car was pretty clean, with only a pair of sunglasses lying on the front passenger seat. The glove compartment had the usual registration and insurance information. One of the insurance cards was missing.

  Carter called out to me and I looked up. He was standing outside the front of the car. “Sarah, come take a look at this.”

  As I approached the front, my gaze followed his outstretched arm, pointing to the dented bumper.

  “Looks like a fender bender to me,” I said. “Maybe that explains why she only had one insurance card. I wonder when that happened.”

  He leaned closer to examine it. “The car she hit was red judging from the scuff marks. I’d say she suffered about five hundred bucks in damage. I wonder if she ever got a chance to call the insurance company to get it fixed.”

  “Wonder what kind of damage the other car had.”

  “Anyway,” Carter checked his watch with a furtive expression. “We need to leave now so we can make our appointment with Cliff Collins?”

  Chapter 4

  Cliff Collins, Attorney at Law, was housed in one of the new luxury office buildings located downtown. Luckily there was designated parking, otherwise it might have taken us hours to locate a spot within walking distance. We noticed a bright, shiny red Porsche parked in the lot, the license plate said CRIMINAL.

  “Ha,” I said, pointing to it. “Looks like Cliff might have a sense of humor.”

  “That would be a pleasant surprise,” Carter said. “Most lawyers take themselves too seriously.”

  Mr. Collins’s secretary—a young, perky woman with a pageboy haircut and red-tortoise shell glasses—informed us that her boss would see us in his private office.

  Cliff made quite an impression at first glance. He was tall, lean muscled and had an infectious smile. His handshake was firm and he made direct eye contact when introductions were made.

  “We’re sorry to bother you about this,” Carter began. “But as I told your secretary over the phone earlier, we’ve been hired to look into Meagan Hart’s disappearance. We’ve read the reports and the statement you gave the police but we ha
ve a few more questions.”

  “Certainly.” Cliff invited us to have a seat at one the conference tables. “What would you like to know?”

  Cliff eased himself into a chair across from us and smiled. He possessed an air of sophistication and confidence, yet didn’t seem arrogant or entitled. I’d known many lawyers in my lifetime and, unfortunately, most of them have an attitude of superiority. I could certainly see why Meagan, or any girl for that matter, would be attracted to him. He wasn’t as cocky as Mark made him out to be; but then again, first impressions can be deceiving.

  “Could you tell us how you met Meagan?” Carter asked.

  “Meagan came here to see me for a consultation.”

  Carter paused. “Why would she need to hire a lawyer?”

  Cliff raised his hands apologetically. “Under normal circumstances, I’m not allowed to answer that question because of confidentiality but, technically, Meagan wasn’t a client yet. She came to me for some legal advice and that’s as far as it went.”

  Carter raised an eyebrow. “What kind of legal advice?”

  “She was having a problem with someone. All she said was that she felt threatened by this person and wanted to inquire about filing a restraining order.”

  “She could have gone straight to the police if someone had been bothering her. Why consult with a lawyer?”

  Cliff smiled good-naturedly. “That’s what I told her. Filing a restraining order is a fairly simple procedure and she didn’t have to hire me to set it up. I usually don’t turn potential clients away but she was young and I didn’t want to take advantage.”

  “So how did that transpire into a date?” Carter asked.

  Cliff folded his hands together on the table and lowered his gaze, as if embarrassed. “Look, I’ll be honest. I usually don’t make a habit of asking potential clients out to dinner, however Meagan and I had an instant connection. I was really drawn to her. I know, I know, that sounds cliché and she was a bit young for me. She appeared far more mature than most twenty-five year olds so I asked her to dinner. She suggested we just have coffee instead.”