“All these people are missing?” Miss Iola ran her fingers along the edges of the pictures, cloaked in plastic. “Lord Mercy. Veda Fontaine.” She tapped a black-and-white portrait of a brunette, eyes wide and lips pursed, a cluster of pearls resting in the hollow of her throat. “That’s Miss Veda. My mama knew her. She disappeared when I was just a kid.”
Miss Iola nudged another photo aside, revealing the picture of Liana. Josh’s sister. An ache split Josh’s insides, an old stitch giving way to a wound underneath. Nobody would ever notice a family resemblance; Liana had their father’s fair skin and hair, while Josh, like his brother, had the dark curls and olive skin that were their mother’s. She shouldn’t be in this array; Liana wasn’t really missing. Not in any official police sense of the word, anyway. Josh felt Miss Iola’s gaze and turned away from Liana’s image.
“I don’t know how we’re going to hang these pictures, Miss Iola.” Josh scanned the tent. Someone was supposed to drop off easels, but they hadn’t. The tent walls weren’t an option either. Around them, drops of moisture saturated the canvas enclosing the stall, the day’s humidity clinging to every surface.
“I’ve got an idea,” Miss Iola said, scooping a plastic bag out of the supply bin at the back of the enclosure. “Clothesline. We could hang the pictures that way.” She held up the bag of clothespins for Josh to see. Together they stretched the cord the length of their stall and pinned up the pictures, one by one along the line. Forgotten Faces, Josh scrawled in marker on a piece of shiny poster board, and below that Help Solve My Mystery. The two of them stood back and admired the display.
“Nothing tastes better than a hog on a log,” announced a voice behind them.
Josh turned to see Boone Lambert holding aloft a pork drumstick. Boone, Josh’s partner on the force, was the redheaded reincarnation of Paul Bunyan, with a little more padding. A third-generation cop, Boone had treated Josh like a kid brother since his arrival in Cooper’s Bayou. Josh was a regular at Boone’s Sunday barbecues, along with whatever local single woman Boone’s wife, Laura Jane, was hoping to set Josh up with.
“Have you seen some of the food they’ve got here, Josh?”
Josh chuckled and feigned surprise. “And here I was, thinking we were on the clock.”
“I was working,” Boone insisted. “The Good News Bible Camp people called in a complaint about the voodoo woman’s booth.” He tore a hunk of meat off the drumstick caveman-style and spoke as he chewed. “Also, we’ve got a missing person—a lady from the pageant.”
“Yeah, I might have a lead on that.”
Miss Iola, who had retreated to her lawn chair, appeared at Josh’s side. “I guess it’s time for me to turn myself in. I’ve taken enough of your time, Detective Hudson. You have been so gracious.”
Boone raised an eyebrow at Josh. “Miss Iola Suggs?”
“Guilty,” Miss Iola said.
Boone chuckled. “Well, ma’am, I can’t say I blame you for hightailing it out of there. That Trinity Patchett and her pageant cronies sure are crazy. All the same, it’s best to let them know you’re safe.” He glanced at the clothesline of missing faces. “Is this what y’all have been working on?”
“It’s just marvelous, isn’t it?” Miss Iola winked at Josh.
“You really think someone might give us a tip?”
“You never know,” Josh said to Liana’s picture. “Just takes one.”
“That’s what I like about you, Hudson,” Boone grinned. “You’re an optimist. Some might say a fool.”
“One of those,” Josh agreed.
On top of the folding table, Josh and Boone’s scanners began to crackle in unison.
“Here we go,” Boone said. “Ten bucks says we have to haul someone’s drunk rear end out of the creek again. Excuse me, ma’am.” He spoke into the receiver. “Go ahead for Boone and Hudson.”
“Niney Crumpler went missing this morning.” Captain Rush’s voice, veiled in static, sizzled and popped through the speaker.
Boone gave Josh the thumbs-up. “Told you. Damn, I’m good.”
“Lucky guess,” Josh returned. “I’ll go.” Niney was probably passed out after raising hell somewhere, but even so, he needed to be brought home safe. Josh took a step towards Miss Iola to say good-bye and almost tripped over the German shepherd.
“Boone, do you know anything about this dog?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about him. He’s from Hambone PD.”
“Did they loan him to us or what?” The dog lifted his head and unfurled his enormous pink tongue in their direction, as though aware they were discussing him.
“They wanted to know if we had a use for him before they hauled him off to the pound. I guess he failed out of K-9 training.” Boone laughed. “Pretty dumb, huh? I thought shepherds were supposed to be smart.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. You failed out of what, sixth grade? And you didn’t turn out so bad.”
Miss Iola chuckled.
“Is that what passes for humor up there in Tennessee?” Boone scoffed. “Let me know when Niney is home safe and sound. Come on, Miss Iola. Let’s get you back to your kingdom.”
Josh pecked Miss Iola on the cheek. “Take care, now, Miss Iola. That Trinity gets out of line, you give me a call.”
Miss Iola pressed a kiss into Josh’s cheek and whispered into his ear. “I hope you find who you’re looking for,” she said.
The words flooded Josh’s insides, filling in the hollow places. He steadied himself, reaching down to pet the dog. Beneath his palm, he felt the animal’s heartbeat, even and steady. “Well, Miss Iola’s beau, I guess you’re coming with me,” he said. “C’mon, Beau. Let’s find old Niney.”
With the German shepherd matching his stride, he trotted in the direction of his car.
CHAPTER THREE
“We’ve got a list of cocktails that’ll make you feel single and see double,” Mama Brigitte boasted. “Or if you’re on call, I could fix you a Shirley Temple.”
Mama Brigitte, the bartender at Dalhart’s, winked at Aurora Atchison over the shoulder of her unsuspecting date, a new MRI tech named Mike. Everyone who worked at St. Agnes Hospital knew Mama, who had that preternatural ability shared by the best bartenders of knowing exactly what you needed. Aurora had seen her serve coffee floats to exhausted interns and had also seen her boot one of the most respected surgeons in New York out on his ass for being rude. She could see Mama sizing Mike up and was sure she’d be getting a full report later.
“I’ll just take a Blue Moon,” Mike replied, glancing back at Aurora. “And of course, whatever the lady wants.”
“Diet Coke, please, Mama,” Aurora said.
Mama shook her head and slid their drinks across the bar. “Someday this girl’s gonna let me fix her a real drink. Now, you let me know if you need anything else.”
Mike led the way to a booth in the back. “So you’re one of Mama’s favorites, huh? You must have done something special to earn a lifetime of free drinks!”
Aurora waved away the compliment. “I treated one of her relatives.” Aurora had treated Mama’s mother in the ER a month before. Pulmonary edema. She remembered putting a hand on the older woman’s back, feeling the patchwork of bones under her fingers. When Mama Brigitte had arrived, she could feel the older woman breathe easier, felt her lungs open up. Make sure you love somebody and somebody loves you, the older woman had told her later. Then you can do anything.
Mike pointed to her Diet Coke. “Sure I can’t tempt you? Those cocktails sounded pretty good.”
“No thanks. I’m on call,” Aurora said. “What time is it? I have to be at the softball field at eight-fifteen.” Aurora smiled at his pouting expression. “Coach’s orders.”
Mike checked his watch. “Let me at least get you a refill.”
“Sure.”
Aurora tipped back in her chair and caught sight of her reflection in one of the cloudy mirrors that lined the bar. She’d tried to coax her curls into a twist
, but they were escaping over her shoulder. Mermaid hair, Nana used to call it when Aurora was a kid and she’d fussed as Nana tamed it into braids before school. She’d teased her about it with a sad smile, and Aurora knew without asking that her hair, along with her lanky frame and her green eyes, were all reminders of her mother.
Mike was cute. She let this thought nudge all the other ones out of the way. They’d struck up a conversation in one of the break rooms last week, and there was something about him that had put her right at ease. He waited at the bar, Mama commanding his attention, probably interrogating him. It had been a while since Aurora had brought a date here. She had met Mike at work—where else? She spent most of her time there. A nice guy. Maybe there was a chance she could be his girlfriend. But she couldn’t hide her past forever.
Mike returned with the drinks. “Is Mama always so—chatty?”
“She likes you,” Aurora said with a laugh. “What did she say?”
“Oh, the usual twenty questions,” he joked. “I thought I was getting to be a local, but the first thing she asked me which hick state I came from.”
“And what hick state is that?” This was always the part of dates that made her nervous, the exchange of personal information that led to the inevitable family questions. Aurora took a swig of her soda.
“Indiana. Been here two months, and I’m never going back.”
“So you like it out here.”
“It’s cool.” His smile was like a little kid’s, part smirk. “I’ve still got a bunch of family back there, though. I miss them.” Aurora imagined a mom and dad, an SUV, a golden retriever. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“Connecticut.” It was only partly true. She didn’t have many memories of the bayou, but it would always be her birthplace, rooted deep in her bones in a way she couldn’t explain.
“So you stayed close to home, then. Is your family still there?”
“I don’t go back too often.” She knew there was something awkward in her tone, some note of warning. She was willing to bet he could see it too. Danger—seriously fucked-up family shit ahead.
In her lap, Aurora’s cell phone buzzed. Play ball! the text said. She would have to hustle to be there in time for the first pitch.
“I’m so sorry, Mike. I have to go.”
“Hey, that’s what I get for going out with the team’s big slugger.”
“And pitcher,” Aurora added. “Double threat.”
She stood and he reached for her hand. “I hope we can do this again,” he said. What could she say to that? Maybe this was the beginning of something. Maybe Mike was the one who could handle the whole story, if she could summon the strength to tell it.
“Sure.”
“And next time tell me to shut up so I can learn more about you. Aurora Atchison, international woman of mystery.”
“Sounds good,” she said, and in her mind she added, You have no idea.
* * *
Outside, darkness was beginning to fall, the lights of the Williamsburg Bridge reflected in the iridescent slice of the East River. Aurora loved that no matter when her shift in the ER ended, the city was always waiting for her outside the door, a living, breathing thing. Two blocks away, she could see the lights on the baseball diamond, casting an otherworldly glow on the trampled grass. Aurora broke into a jog.
Behind home plate, Dr. Tusharkanti, a pediatric doc and the self-appointed coach of the Public Enemas hospital softball team, gave instructions that were lost on an unexpected twist of breeze that wound through East River Park.
“Aurora! Hey! Over here!” Nicky, another ER nurse and Aurora’s closest friend on staff, bellowed from behind home plate, where she was struggling with her spikes. Nicky had rolled the cuffs and twisted the sleeves of the softball uniform. It reminded Aurora of the way she’d tailored her scrubs at work; always a fashionista.
“Hey, Nic!”
Nicky gave Aurora the once-over. “You wore your softball uniform on the date? It’s a good thing you’re so cute. How’d it go?”
“I had fun.”
“Really. Don’t spare any details.” Nicky rolled her eyes.
“I had fun,” Aurora repeated. “But we’ll see what happens.” She fit her fingers inside the baseball glove.
“You know what I think?” Nicky planted a hand on her hip.
“Please tell me. I’m dying to know.”
“He’s just not your type. You have to find someone who is.”
“I guess.” Aurora wanted someone strong. Strong enough that she could lay down all her weapons for a change and stop fighting everything alone.
“So it isn’t Matt. So what? On to the next.”
“Mike.”
“Whatever. All those blond techs look the same to me. Good genetic material for a baby, but about as interesting as unflavored oatmeal.” She turned towards the dugout and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell at Dr. Tushy. “Where do you want us, Coach? Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Aurora, you take shortstop tonight,” Dr. Tushy hollered from the bench. “Nicky, you’re at third base.” He slapped an unenthused-looking resident on the back. “Dr. K, let’s see if you can pitch!”
“Shit,” Nicky muttered. “I hope nobody hits it this way.”
“I’ve got your back.”
“So anyway,” Nicky continued, “my friend’s band is playing at this festival out on the Island on Friday. It’s at the beach, so there’s gonna be food, drinks, all kinds of summer fun. And I checked your schedule, and I know you’re off, so no excuses. Are you in?”
“I’m supposed to see the lawyer on Friday about Papa.” She had been putting off the appointment with Luna Riley for weeks.
“Oh, I’m sorry, hon. I forgot.”
“I can probably reschedule.” What was one more time?
Nicky linked her arm in Aurora’s. She had been witness to Aurora’s grandfather’s slow decline from lung cancer. Papa had loved Nicky. She had shown him a thousand tiny kindnesses that Aurora would never forget—played cards with him, slipped him an extra pudding cup, got the maintenance guys to bring him one of the TVs with the good channels. She’d even helped Aurora compose his obituary for the funeral home. Loving husband of Laurel. Adoring father of Raylene. Beloved grandfather of Aurora. A life expressed in terms of connections to other people. What Nicky might not realize was that Aurora was the end of the line. Make sure somebody loves you. But what if nobody was left?
The first baseman caught a pop fly for the third out, and Nicky and Aurora jogged together to the dugout. “Did you scatter his ashes?”
“Not yet.” Aurora ignored the tightness that gripped her throat. Papa’s remains were still tucked under her bed. She knew he wanted to be on the bayou for all eternity, but she just couldn’t take him there. Not yet. It was funny how Aurora could bear witness to other people’s tragedies, could be the one to make the death notification, to rub the back of the crumbling family member while she delivered the news—but when it came to dealing with her own tragedies, she was useless.
“He’s at peace,” Nicky told her. It was the kind of thing they were supposed to say to patients’ family members, a cliché that rang hollow to Aurora at work but, coming from Nicky at this moment, seemed oddly comforting. The idea that Papa now looked down upon her from paradise, all of his questions answered and his fears soothed, fortified her. Aurora gave Nicky’s hand a squeeze.
“Aurora! You’re up!” Dr. Tushy held out a batting helmet.
Aurora stood in the batter’s box. Had her mother played sports? She herself had been a decent athlete in high school; Nana and Papa had attended all of her games, pushed her feverishly into any and all after-school activities in their campaign to give her a normal life.
“Come on, Aurora! You got this.” Dr. Tushy was growing hoarse. “We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!” His spirit, even in the face of the team’s consistently terrible record, was what made Aurora keep signing up to play.
Sh
e settled into her stance, pictured her swing, fluid and easy. She connected on the first pitch, the ball carrying over the second baseman’s head and into center field. Aurora sprinted to first base and smiled at her teammates’ applause. Nothing to it …
Something buzzed in her pocket. Probably the hospital. Well, she’d had a good run of it so far this evening. Aurora made a time-out signal and took the call without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Aurora! I’m so glad I caught you. This is Luna Riley.” A tiny surge of anxiety shot through Aurora. Papa’s attorney.
“Hi.”
“I just wanted to make sure that our appointment on Friday at eleven thirty still works for you.” Luna’s voice was friendly, but something in her voice told Aurora the lawyer was onto her, knew she was ducking the appointments.
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Great,” Luna said brightly. “We can go over all the issues related to the estate, and I can answer any questions that you might have. We’re working under a deadline here, so—”
“Issues?” Papa had held the same job at the bank for forty years, and his military upbringing had made him a meticulous man, tidy about everything from his sock drawer to his bank account. The luxuries in his life were in his relationships with other people, not in material possessions. Live simply, he’d always told her, so that others may simply live. What possible issues could there be?
“Oh, we’ll discuss all of that in person on Friday,” Luna replied. “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” In the background, Aurora could hear the hum of chatter amidst the thin strains of orchestra music. So Luna was calling after hours, from her cell phone, to confirm their appointment? What could be so urgent?
“Can you just give me an idea of—”Aurora began to formulate the question, but Luna had already ended the call. She slipped the phone back in her pocket and walked back onto the baseball diamond.
“Everything okay, hon?” Nicky said with a frown. “You didn’t get called in, did you?”
The Evidence Room: A Mystery Page 2