Mind-Bending Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  I thought it was ridiculous but didn't say so. Who's going to go to a pawn shop to work out or a gym to pawn stuff?

  "I was in the tattoo shop talking to Bear yesterday," I started.

  The kid looked astonished. "Did you get a tattoo? Is it a goat? Bear's really good at drawing goats."

  "No. I didn't get a tattoo. Anyway, he didn't seem to like Mordecai. He said Mordecai has skeletons in his closet."

  Kurt frowned. "I don't know about that."

  "Who does? Maybe his staff…or kids…"

  He shook his head. "Mordecai doesn't have kids. And the only staff he has is Pastor Malone, and even he doesn't work all the time."

  "Maybe he meant the shed? Maybe the closet is a metaphor for the shed?" I liked that idea, but frankly, I wished this wasn't so complicated. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. And I wasn't looking forward to going back to Riley's, which meant I had to find somewhere else to stay in order to keep Rex in the dark.

  The waitress deposited the drink on the table with a wink at the kid and a scowl at me.

  "Thanks, Mom," Kurt said as he sipped from the straw.

  "That's your mom?" I watched her go back to the bar. "So that's how you know about the dusty wine bottles."

  Kurt leaned forward conspiratorially. "Mom is kind of my ears, if you know what I mean. You have to have connections if you're going to succeed in this line of work." He wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully before going back to his drink.

  "Your mom is your informant?"

  "When you say it like that it sounds stupid. But she hears everything. People get drunk and say all kinds of things you wouldn't believe."

  Oh really? Did she know about Mordecai's secrets?

  "But don't ask her about Mordecai." Kurt seemed to read my mind. "She won't gossip. In fact, anytime someone tries to get her to talk, she's been known to punch them. The police don't even bother with arresting her anymore."

  Half an hour later I walked into my house (for lack of any sleepover ideas) still wearing my disguise. Rex was on the sofa. He looked up at me.

  "Is that a new look?"

  I peeled off my mullet and fake glasses. "Yeah. What do you think?"

  "It really does nothing for me," he said. "I'd ask where you've been, but I don't think I want to know."

  Rex got up and took me in his arms and kissed me, in spite of my five o'clock shadow. "You smell like really cheap beer and dive bars. Oh, and by the way, some young guy showed up this afternoon and gave me this to give you." He handed me Kurt's card. "He said it was a prototype, and you are supposed to give it back when you're done."

  "I'll bet," I said as I headed for the dining room.

  Philby was pawing furiously at Rufus's aquarium, as if he was made of tuna and she was starving. The frog just blinked at her sardonically. I checked the latch on the top and made sure it was secure before going into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

  I made Rex promise not to ask me about the case, and he agreed a bit too readily. I was happy and offended. We went to bed after I spent an hour trying to get all the spirit gum off my face. They really should come up with something that doesn't practically need turpentine to scrub off.

  In spite of my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned all night, hashing the case out in my head and jonesing to tell Riley that I'd totally fooled him. Well, mostly the first part. At midnight, when I gave up and went downstairs to get something to eat, I spotted a light on in my old ranch house across the street.

  I know it’s unusual owning two houses right across the street from each other, yet I just can’t bear to part with my first house.

  But who was there now?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Still in my pajamas, I slipped on my rain shoes by the front door, slid my key off the hook, and stuffed my cell phone in my pocket. We lived on a quiet street.

  No car in the driveway or on the street, but that didn't mean anything. The intruder could've parked around the corner or on another street. Before I could even think about what I was doing or about waking up the cop in my bed, I skipped across the street, slid the key into the lock, and threw open the door.

  Betty and Lauren were sitting in front of a laptop at the breakfast bar in their pajamas. They stared at me.

  "You might want to close the door, Mrs. Wrath," Lauren said before both girls went back to the computer.

  "Guys!" I did as they told me to and joined them. "Are we having a sleepover that I wasn't aware of?"

  "Yes. You weren't invited," Betty said simply. "But since you're here…"

  I looked around the kitchen and spotted a huge sign on the fridge that read:

  Badass Betty's Detective Agency & Hacking Services

  "What's that?" I pointed at the sign.

  "It's a sign," Betty said.

  She had me there. "What are you doing?"

  Lauren cocked her head to one side. "Betty's hacking into the Bladdersly Police Department."

  "You're what?" I asked with a bit more enthusiasm than I should have.

  "Almost in." Lauren smiled at me. "Did you know they have no firewalls or security software?"

  I sat down, transfixed by the screen. "Yeah, they don't lock their doors either. Everyone just leaves their keys in their mailboxes. Classic fail."

  Betty paused. "That's good to know."

  I decided not to ask. Instead, I studied the Bladdersly PD page that was open. There were three icons on the screen: Solitaire, Angry Birds, and one file named Some Case Files.

  "Why are you guys here in the middle of the night?"

  Betty didn't take her eyes off the screen. "Mom and Dad are out of town. Bart's babysitting."

  I looked around. "Your brother is here?"

  Betty looked at me as if she felt sorry for how stupid I was. "No. He thinks we're at home. I gave him the slip."

  "We're starting our own detective agency, and this is our office!" Lauren said cheerfully.

  There was that wiggle of fear in my gut. Kelly was always on my case for not acting responsibly or setting consequences when the girls did something cool that she didn't think was healthy. On the one hand, Betty was getting me info that Riley hadn't. I could hire her, but of course that would be wrong… As for hacking into the Bladdersly PD, it was brilliant and useful, and I was proud of them. I was also conflicted on whether or not I should report this to Rex.

  Too bad he's asleep. Across the street. Guess I'll just have to wait until tomorrow.

  "Here's your file." Betty pointed a stubby finger at the screen.

  "Under Some Case Files, your file is called Merry Wrath is a Meddling Busybody and Murderer and I Hate Her!" Lauren frowned. "That's not very nice."

  "I'll fix it." Betty stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth and typed Merry Wrath is Awesome & Didn't Kill Anybody. "Better?"

  I wished I could be there when Vanderzee opened the file in the morning. Then again, he might realize we hacked into his system, so maybe I should get Betty to change it after we'd gone through it.

  "I'm not sure we should be doing this," I said mostly for show. "But since we are already here, it saves me a trip to break in."

  The paperwork seemed to consist of photos of handwritten notes.

  "Oooh!" I pointed. "Open Witness Statement Against the Enemy of Bladdersly, Merry Wrath!"

  Betty looked at me. "We haven't discussed my retainer fee."

  "Retainer? You're charging me a retainer?"

  "To cover expenses in case things don't work out and you decide to shortchange me."

  "I'd never do that," I said. "And I didn't know I was paying for your services. Or taxes and utilities on your office."

  "You called it," Lauren said, and both girls nodded.

  "Called what?"

  "We had a bet that you wouldn't pay up. Betty won." Lauren handed her best friend a nickel.

  "Okay, guys, this is valuable intel, sure. But I don't know how ethical it is to pay you for hacking into a police department. It woul
d look extremely bad."

  "I'm not going to juvie for you," Betty warned. "Even if you are awesome."

  "She has standards," Lauren added.

  "Well, if I do use your services, I'll pay you. But I can't pay for this. It would make me look very guilty, and I'm sure it's illegal."

  The girls looked at each other for a moment, communicating with their eyebrows. They reminded me of Ron and Ivan…except smarter…way smarter.

  "Okay. This is a gimme." Betty turned her attention back to the file and opened it. Then she hit a key. A printer I hadn't noticed on the stove started spewing out pages.

  "That's pretty useful," I had to admit as I collected up the pages. "Anything else?"

  "Uh-oh," Betty gasped. "They're onto us." Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she backed out of the site.

  "Close the curtains!" she ordered Lauren, who was already on it. "Get the weapons and go to blackout!"

  Lauren turned off the lights. We sat there in the darkness as Betty unplugged her laptop.

  I had to ask, "What's going on?"

  "We're waiting to see if the internet police come," Lauren said in a hushed voice.

  "Say," I pointed out. "Why isn't Betty talking noir?" To be honest, I kind of missed it.

  Betty shook her head. "It's after midnight. You don't talk like that after midnight. Everybody knows that."

  "She has standards," Lauren said.

  After maybe ten or fifteen minutes in the dark, completely quiet, Betty jumped up and turned on the lights. "Okay, all clear."

  "Oh good," I said. "Now it's time for bed."

  The girls went into the bathroom and began brushing their teeth.

  "Guys! You can't stay here!"

  Foaming at the mouth, Lauren asked, "Why not?"

  "Because there's no supervising adult!"

  Betty rolled her eyes. "You're here."

  "Yes, but I'm sleeping over there." I pointed across the street. "Come on. You guys can sleep in our guest room."

  I dragged two grumpy girls across the street and took them upstairs, where I ordered Leonard to keep an eye on them. I wasn't sure what he'd do. The huge Scottish deerhound was a bit of a pushover. But hopefully it sounded tough.

  I stashed the pages we'd printed off before climbing into bed.

  The next morning, I found the girls in the kitchen making bacon and eggs.

  "Take a load off and rest your dogs, Mac," Betty ordered. Apparently, the noir was back.

  Lauren smiled. "We're going to make you and Mr. Wrath breakfast!"

  Ever since I'd known them, my troop has called me Mrs. Wrath. Explaining why that wasn't accurate to a group of five-year-olds went nowhere because, even though I was in my late twenties, I was considered old. And old women were Mrs. It was kind of hard to argue with that.

  When I did get married and became Mrs. Ferguson, instead of correcting my name, they changed Rex's. He didn't seem to mind.

  "Good morning." Rex kissed me on the forehead. "Are you making breakfast?"

  "These dames." Betty marched in and deposited a plate with at least two pounds of bacon on it.

  "Why are the girls here?" Rex sat down and began munching. "Hey! This is perfect! Just the right amount of floppy and crispy!"

  "It's Lauren," I said as the girl appeared with a heaping bowl of scrambled eggs. She must've made two dozen. "She's the bacon chef."

  Each girl in my troop seemed to be good at, at least, one thing. With Lauren, it was starting fires and making bacon. Ava was a strong leader. The four Kaitlyns could balance five spoons on their faces. Inez, Hannah, and Caterina were the cheerleaders and soothers of feelings. And Betty? She could do almost anything, including appearing and disappearing in a poof. We learned the extent of her magic skills not too long ago on a trip to Behold, Iowa.

  The girls sat down at the table and began digging in.

  Philby, who'd been staring at the aquarium for the past twenty minutes without blinking, sniffed the air. In a split second, she'd managed to haul her immense body onto the table. I grabbed the plate of bacon and whisked it away.

  The feline führer loved bacon. On multiple occasions, she'd managed to walk across the plate in an attempt to gross us out so that she could get the spoils. It wasn't going to work this time.

  We didn't make bacon very often. We just kept buying it at the store and adding it to the fridge. That must be where the girls found it.

  Betty tossed the cat a strip, and she devoured it.

  "I didn't realize we were hosting a sleepover last night." Rex smiled good-naturedly.

  "I didn't either. But here they are."

  Betty glared at me. Either she didn't want me to mention the hacking or she was mad about…well, it could be anything.

  "Have you heard anything about my case?" I asked. I wasn't going to say what I knew, but see if he knew something.

  Rex shook his head. "No. And I still think it's serious. But if things go bad, I get street cred for having a convicted felon as a wife."

  I grabbed another piece of bacon. "You should be so lucky."

  Rex ate quickly for a few moments, then got to his feet. "I've got to go. But I'll check in with you later. Okay?"

  After washing the dishes and getting dressed, Lauren asked, "What are we doing today?"

  "I am interviewing a witness. You are going home."

  "Don't give us the bum's rush, pally," Betty growled. "We got the goods on you."

  Oh right! The police report.

  "I'll go get dressed and drive you home."

  The girls complained the whole way, Lauren in English and Betty in fluent noir. Although, there were some phrases I was pretty sure she made up when she told me to make like the wind and fight off Catalonians.

  Back at the house, I grabbed the printouts and settled down at the kitchen table to read.

  At the top, it said, The Case Against Merry Wrath: Meddler, Murderer, Potential Serial Killer. Well, that was unprofessional. They got my name wrong. It's Ferguson, not Wrath anymore. Yeesh. You'd think they'd get at least that right.

  They weren't wrong on "meddler." I'm well aware that I've been meddling in cases ever since I'd moved back home. It might even be how I dealt with losing a career path that was loaded with adrenaline. And there had been so many murders since I'd moved home that I made Scooby Doo and the gang look like Cub Scouts.

  But "murderer" and "potential serial killer" just seemed like wishful thinking on their part. I was going to prove them wrong. The word wrong made me cringe a bit. It was wrong to allow the girls to hack into the Bladdersly PD's mainframe. It was wrong not to use it as a teaching moment, although the only thing I can think of that it taught was valuable hacking life skills.

  Okay, that sounds bad. But most of my job with the CIA had involved stealing intel. This wasn't much different than that. Oh sure, it's illegal, but that was less important than maintaining justice. And Betty was bound for the CIA. There! That was my teachable moment. I set aside my guilt and continued.

  Just below the obnoxious title, there was a hand-drawn picture of the crime scene. It looked just like it had when I woke up there. I was a little taken aback by the notations, especially the one that said: And here's where Wrath murdered Pancratz. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

  There wasn't much here. Just one paragraph summing up Pastor Malone's statement, stating that Malone had been working his shift as security guard, making his rounds. His testimony was written by Vanderzee. Vanderzee paraphrased:

  Pastor Buddy Malone reported that he had seen Merry Wrath and Tyson Pancratz enter the shed. He thought nothing of it at the time because Mordecai Brown leaves it open for public use. But later he walked by, and hearing nothing, assumed they were gone. He opened the door, saw the victim and the killer lying on the floor. He locked the door and called 9-1-1. The end.

  Vanderzee had actually written, The end. That's what I was dealing with.

  I pictured the whole thing in my mind. And something seemed off. Why
hadn't Malone thought it strange that Tyson and I were sneaking into the shed in the middle of the night? There's no mention of the murder weapon. I closed my eyes to focus on what I'd seen.

  If I'd killed Tyson, why didn't they find a weapon? What did I use? My charm? No, if I'd murdered the guy, the weapon would be in that room. I suppose you could say maybe I went to dispose of it and came right back. But why would the killer do that? If it had been me, I wouldn't have come back.

  So where was the weapon? I pictured Tyson's body and made another realization. If I'd stabbed him in that room, where was the blood?

  And why was I the only one asking these questions?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "You're absolutely right, Merry!" Soo Jin said cheerfully on the phone two seconds later.

  "Before you say anything else," I said quickly. "I know that I'm not supposed to have this information. So if this could hurt your career, you don't have to tell me anything."

  "I think enough time has passed. The authorities have my report. Besides, you're accused of murder! As your friend, I should tell you what happened."

  "Okay." That was easier than I'd thought. "How did he die?"

  "A small stiletto knife. One stab wound directly through the heart. The knife was pulled out, and he died pretty quickly."

  Part of me was happy to finally get the news. The other part of me was a little freaked out because my small stiletto was still missing. Maybe I'd get lucky and Betty had taken it. Maybe I won't repeat that to Kelly.

  "Soo Jin," I asked. "Was Tyson killed on-site?"

  "Inconclusive. You're asking because there wasn't much blood on the floor, right?"

  I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "That's right."

  Soo Jin explained, "When the heart stops, all blood stops pumping. There's no spurting or spraying. It simply drains to the lowest part of the body. So in answer to your question, I don't know. He could've been killed there. He could've been killed elsewhere and dumped in the shed. The one thing I do know is that you didn't do it."