by Wendy Byrne
"Yoo-hoo, Izzy. Where are you?" Ramona's voice drifted through the crowd.
I waved my hands in the air to get their attention. "Over here, ladies." A bit of ambivalence showed in my tone. When they were around, I felt a need to do more adulting than usual. Somebody had to, and I suspected these ladies had given up on that adulting thing a long time ago.
Ramona was holding her nose, Alice had her hand over her mouth and nose like a gas mask, Dolly's inner schoolteacher was coming out as she shook her head, while the nurse in Viola had her reaching inside her purse for hand sanitizer. We should have thought about using that peppermint oil again, especially now that I knew the source of the smoke. Too late.
"Phil, why don't you grab Spike, and we'll meet you outside?" I said as I gave the Qs the follow-me sign. For once they listened. Frankly, between the smoke lingering in the air, the cigar smoke, and the unwashed bodies, it was nearly impossible to take a full breath.
For some reason, I assumed Phil would follow along based on my request. But I wasn't waiting to make sure either. I didn't want to hang around one second longer than I had to.
I drew in a deep breath. While the outside air wasn't much better with the smell of roasting pig in the air, it was incrementally more breathable.
"I wish we could have stayed a bit longer. I think we could have found some good stuff," Alice said.
"Like a staph infection?" My temper flared, but like the troopers they were, nobody took offense at my outburst. They were used to me by now.
"Izzy might have a point. I can't imagine the germs in that place," Viola said as she passed around her hand sanitizer and we all squirted liberal doses of the stuff. If I could have, I would have rubbed it all over my body. As it was, I dosed my arm up to the sleeve of my shirt and suppressed a shudder that wormed its way down my back. That place put the yuck in yucko.
We stood together in a loose half circle waiting for Phil. I had no intention of going back into that place and had to bank on the hope that he'd get the job done.
It seemed like forever until he came outside with a guy who looked like the hairiest man I'd ever seen—as in he could stunt double for Big Foot. And considering what we'd just seen inside, that was saying a lot. His thick hair was unruly and hung to his shoulders. His full beard hit the center of his chest and moved slightly in the breeze. Seriously, the guy looked like half werewolf. I wasn't going to judge if he had information for us.
"What do you know about Jennifer Crowder?" I might as well spout off the questions and get this over with ASAP. Besides, hightailing it out of here was number one on my to-do list.
"I know her as Tina Nicols. She runs with a rough crowd. Rumor is she ripped off a drug dealer in New York." The bear of a man had the squeakiest of voices, sort of like Pee-wee Herman. The contrast had me suppressing a laugh.
"Are you saying she's still alive? And do you know the drug dealer's name?" This was the first positive news we'd had in forever, and I was lapping it up like a thirsty dog. "When did you last see her?"
"Was she okay?" Viola asked.
"I saw her about ten days ago looking for this dude they call Moochie. He's always ready to make a quick buck and knows where to get what you need if you're in the mood for a little relaxation, if you know what I mean."
Although ten days was before she'd disappeared, a lead was a lead.
"Where can we find Moochie?" Alice asked.
"Not sure where he hangs out. But I happen to know he goes to Gail's for a massage every Thursday at one."
"What kind of name is Moochie?" Alice asked.
"I'm pretty sure it's a nickname. Not really sure what his real name is."
"Gail's in Anton on Main Street?" Ramona asked.
"Yep," Spike said. "If anybody knows about Jen aka Tina and whether or not she's alive, it's Moochie."
"What does this guy look like?"
Spike shook his head, and I could have sworn I spotted a few bugs flying around him. Probably my imagination since it was pretty dark and I couldn't really see that well. "Not a clue. I've never seen the guy in person. But I'm sure he's one bad dude based on reputation alone."
With those chilling words, I had a clear objective in mind. Now, I needed to both figure out who this guy was and also devise a way to talk to him. That would be the really hard part of this equation. Then again, I'd had more than my fair share of massages in the past, so I should be able to figure out a way to make it happen.
We got into the car, and the strategizing began.
"I'm a nurse, so I think I could pose as a masseuse easily," Viola said.
I shook my head. "No way. Besides, no offense, but nobody is going to buy that you're a masseuse at your age."
"She's right about that," Dolly said.
"There's got to be a better way. I know this is Iowa, but there has to be licensing requirements, so nobody is going to be able to get around that. We've got to hang around outside and do what we do best—figure it out on the fly," I said.
"But that seems iffy. If we pretended like we were massage therapists, we'd catch him when he was vulnerable, and maybe we could take advantage," Ramona said.
"Henry gives good massages. Maybe we should ask him for pointers," Alice said. "Barney and I haven't gotten to the massage stage as of yet."
Eww. "Not going to happen." I needed to change the trajectory of this conversation that was headed toward TMI.
Ramona chuckled. "Maybe Gabe can be your guinea pig."
I shook my head. "Nobody is going to pretend to be a massage therapist. There's got to be another way. We'll have to come up with something that will allow us to get the information we need."
"Do you think Moochie will actually come through with the goods? Or are we going to have to use some muscle on him?" Alice asked. "Maybe we should bring Henry with us."
I hid my smile by chewing my lip. That was the risk of this kind of thing. It wasn't like he'd kill me if he figured out my objective—at least I didn't think so. But I guessed that always remained a possibility when I was dealing with a drug lord. Besides, I was pretty positive he wouldn't bring in a gun to a massage, so following him after his appointment should work just fine.
"I guess we should have asked a few more questions instead of getting blinded by our victory," Viola said.
"Maybe that's our problem. We get distracted by the shiny objects and forget to concentrate on the end game," Dolly added.
I shrugged as I parked in front of Viola's. "We have a couple of days to dig through some strategies. In the meantime, it doesn't seem to be outside the realm of possibilities to check in with Nate to see if he knows anything. He might have heard of this Moochie guy, and we'll be golden."
"Wishful thinking is a beautiful thing, gal." Viola patted me on the knee as the group exited the car and headed straight for her house
* * *
Before I figured out what to do with Moochie, I thought it would be worth my while to talk to Chaz to see if he could make some sense of all that was happening. Since I knew Charlie Evans visited Chaz's office on a regular basis, I asked him to meet me at the diner. Even Chaz's normal poker face couldn't disguise how he felt about arresting Nate. Maybe he'd throw me a bone to help with our side investigation.
I drove to Winterset alone, as I didn't want to get distracted by the Qs today. Some things I needed to do by myself, and this part of the investigation was one of those things.
Feeling both relieved and a whole lot scared, I walked inside and spotted him at a booth near the window. Chaz and I had gotten off to a rocky start, but I thought he was a sound person who would help me if he could. But I also knew he was a by-the-book kind of guy, so I had to walk a tightrope with my questions.
"Hi, Chaz. I'm glad you had time to meet this morning." He stood and shook my hand while I slipped into the booth.
He poured me a cup of coffee from the pot that had been left on the table before taking a sip of his own. "I have a feeling I know why you're here, but why don't you gi
ve me the details?"
"I have so many questions." I held up my hands to stop his inevitable objection. "And yes, I know there's only so much you can share with me because of the ongoing investigation. But I have some names of people I want to run by you." I glanced at my phone and the suspects or at least suspicious characters I'd put into my notes section. "Everyone knows that Jen had a problem with addiction. That's no secret. I started sniffing around and found there's a guy named Boris who might be a player in this. I haven't found him yet but heard he's protective of his grandmother, Purdy."
"Yes, I heard you had quite an experience there."
"It wasn't pleasant, but I survived. Luckily the doctor pinpointed the allergy to shrimp and possibly cayenne pepper. The bartender had some residual juice on his hands after making a Slutty Mary—with shrimp and a bunch of other stuff. Yes, it's all a big mess, but I'm good."
"Boris is a small player. I'm not sure who the mastermind is, but the guy doesn't have the brains. If anything, he's selling weed, nothing more dangerous than that. And I got the impression that Jen was addicted to the more lethal variety of stuff."
I sighed, mostly because I didn't know what else to do. "How about somebody named Moochie? Do you know anything about him?"
Chaz shook his head. "Never heard the name around here. Are you getting this information from reliable sources?"
"Well…" I wasn't sure I wanted to say anything about Phil since Nate had asked me to look into it rather than Chaz. Then again, knowing Nate, he probably didn't want Chaz to be forced to do something that might cost him his job, or like I said, maybe he was trying to give me a coded message I had yet to figure out. "I guess not the best. I heard it from a guy named Spike, who was the hairiest person I've ever seen. I swear he could double for Big Foot—if there is such a thing."
Chaz emitted a rare laugh. "Spike tries to give me information all the time, and it's about as reliable as a ten-year-old newspaper. He's not a source I'd ever consider using."
"He said something about Jen ripping off a drug dealer in New York. Have you heard anything about that?" When he shook his head, I continued. "He did say that Moochie would know more. You've got to know who's dealing in drugs around here. Is anything about this making sense?"
"That's the thing. It's underground as far as I can tell. Spike is a wannabe, but he might know more than I think. He probably gives me stuff as a diversion. But I'm not sure how any of this is going to help Nate."
"I know he didn't have anything to do with Jen's disappearance, so the next logical explanation is that somebody is setting him up. I have to figure out who and what Jen has gotten herself into."
"Would it help if I cautioned you against doing law enforcement's job?"
"Nope. I can't watch Nate get tried and convicted for something he didn't do, especially now that I know Madman Charlie is involved." I bit my lip and tried to think if I should tell him something that might be straight-up gossip. "Do you know Gabe's ex-wife Mel?"
"Nope, never met her."
"She's the definition of high-maintenance. But I found it odd when I saw her playing kissy face with some guy dressed as a homeless person who clearly wasn't."
"She wouldn't be the first person who's slumming it. Besides, I'm not sure it's relevant."
"It's more than that. She's got a vendetta against Nate, but I'm not sure what it's about. She stormed into Gabe's house on her high horse, saying she was going to make sure Nate rotted in jail after killing her friend. Except that Nate told me she and Jen barely knew each other. Gabe said there's some bad blood between her and Nate because he subpoenaed her in some case he was working on. And I know this is weird, but I think Mel might be working with Charlie Evans in some capacity. When she met with this homeless guy in Iowa City, she handed him what looked like an envelope of money…" My voice trailed off, as I didn't know quite what to say after that.
"Do you have a picture?" While I knew he more than likely was humoring me, right now I'd take what I could get, so I showed him the pic on my phone. He enlarged the photo but then shook his head. "It's hard to tell with the knit cap covering his hair and eyebrows."
I'd been afraid he was going to say that.
"Before I forget. There's a rumor that you—or more than likely someone who looked like you—were in Winterset and dashed out on the bill at the diner yesterday."
I ground my back molars together. "First off, you know I'd never do that. Secondly, this is the fourth or fifth time someone's told me I was somewhere I haven't been. Prior to this she's done nothing illegal, but now this woman who's impersonating me has ticked me off. What the heck is she trying to prove?"
"My guess is that it's all about discrediting you."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After last night, I couldn't sleep. Considering my twin was making my life a living hell and the fact there'd been no progress in the case the last couple of days weren't helping matters.
And I still hadn't figured out how we'd get the info on Moochie. No way could any of us pose as a masseuse. I figured our only option would be do a stakeout outside Gail's around one and then follow him to see where he led. There couldn't be many men with one o'clock appointments.
Since I was up early, I decided to go for a run and laced up my running shoes around eight thirty. I set off at a strong pace, lost in my preoccupation. The sense I was missing something laid on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't articulate what it might be. I could only hope to find the elusive answer sooner rather than later.
As I ran to the top of the hill that crossed behind the high school, I contemplated the list I'd compiled of potential suspects. Everything pointed to a drug network, but figuring out who was involved was the difficult part. So far, I had Moochie, Boris, Drew Lannon, Charlie Evans, and I should probably throw in that weirdo guy Daniel Opps for creep factor alone. While part of me wanted to add Mel to that list, I suspected that came from my vindictive streak. If I knew the name of the drug dealer Jen had allegedly stolen from, I'd add that person to the list as well.
As I neared the top of the hill, I spotted another runner up ahead. Dressed similarly to me, she had on a pink T-shirt and black running tights. Dark-brown hair swung from the ponytail coming out of the back of her pink cap.
Could this be my twin? I had to know for sure and upped my pace. She must have sensed me closing in on her, as she stepped up her own stride.
"Wait," I called to no avail as she sped up even more. She made the turn ahead of me and headed into the wooded area, but not before she dropped something on the ground.
I finally caught up to where she'd been and glanced around, looking for what she'd dropped. I was about to give up when I saw the green Post-it Note near the base of one of the trees.
She's alive.
This might be the breakthrough I was looking for. The note had to be about Jen. I rushed down the hill and hoped Gabe was home. If not, I would run all the way to Nate's, even though his house was on the opposite side of town.
Gabe was getting into his truck when I nearly knocked him over with my momentum. "What happened? Did somebody try to hurt you again?" He pulled me away and seemed to be checking for damage.
I shook my head and struggled to get the words out, putting my hand on my chest as if that would help stem my adrenaline flow. His brow furrowed, and he looked like he wanted to hurt whoever had me in such a state.
I bent over to see if that helped me suck in some oxygen. I shoved the Post-it Note into his hand. "Read," I coughed out.
He glanced at the paper then looked at me. "Who's alive?"
The name rushed through my lips. "Jen. Has to be."
"Where did you get it?"
"My twin. She was running and left it for me."
"Let me get you some water, and I'll call Nate." He held the note by the edges and dialed his phone. "Maybe he can get some prints."
While I recovered, Gabe went inside and got me water. Less than five minutes later Nate arrived, and I filled him in. While he d
idn't take notes, I had a feeling he didn't have to.
"Tell me more about this twin."
"I don't know what to tell you. I wasn't that close to her, but she was dressed similar to me and had the same hair color and style."
"And she dropped this note?"
"Yes, and then she went into the woods. I couldn't catch up with her." I replayed what happened in my head and wondered if I could have done anything differently, but nope. She'd gained too much of an advantage by the time I'd spotted her.
"I know you're excited about this, but I'm not sure anyone will take it seriously. Besides, as far as we know, there's no connection between Jen and the woman pretending to be you."
"There's got to be a connection. It can't be coincidence that she started to show up around town the same time that Jen disappeared."
"Look at it objectively. We don't know this woman. An outsider might think you made it up. Besides, it doesn't mention a name. We're assuming the note is about Jen but don't know that for sure. I'll have it run for prints, but considering the size and the fact both you and Gabe handled it, I doubt we'll get anything viable."
As I watched him leave, I couldn't help but think about what, if any, impact it might have on the investigation. I glanced up at Gabe as he slid his arm around my shoulder.
"What are we going to do?" I felt the weight of the world pressing down on me.
"You're going to come inside and have some coffee, and I'll make you eggs and bacon."
My stomach growled in agreement, but I had to stand my ground. "We need to have a discussion about Mel and how she might be involved with what's happening."
He sighed and shook his head. "She's not out to get Nate. She's just being her usual drama queen."
I wished I could have been that confident.
* * *
By Thursday, we had a plan in place and were headed to Anton. I'd finally convinced the Qs it would be a good idea to sit at the diner across the street and pay attention to every male visitor to Gail's from twelve thirty to one fifteen or so. They all decided to bring their binoculars. I was worried people would think it was weird. They just didn't know the Qs were professionals at being weird.