Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft

by Catherine Nelson

  Ellmann polished off his entire plate and then the last part of mine. We paid our bill and left, crossing College then heading south. He held my hand while we walked.

  “So, my dad called me today,” he said.

  I could tell by his tone I should be worried.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. He’s getting married.”

  From what Ellmann had told me, his parents had been married young. After three children and fifteen years together, they’d called it quits. His mother, Anja, had gotten remarried a couple years later to a guy Ellmann and his siblings like well enough, and she’s still married. His father, Vincent, had been sleeping with his secretary at the time of his divorce. After a couple years, he found out she’d been having an affair. He dumped her then moved on to someone else, then someone else, then another. He was never without a girlfriend for very long, and the women kept getting younger and younger. His children had gotten used to his revolving door of women, but none of them liked it.

  “Married?” I said, unsure of exactly what else to say.

  “Her name is Susan. I guess they’ve been together for about a year. Anyway, he called to tell me he’s coming to town. He wants all of us to meet her before the wedding. He’s already been to see my brother in Seattle. This is his next stop. Somehow he convinced my sister to fly out here, too.”

  Ellmann is the middle child. His brother, Charlie, is two years older and lives in Seattle with his wife and their two children. He’s some kind of engineer doing some sort of complex aerospace design stuff I don’t understand. Their sister, Natalie, still lives in California, in the town where their mother had moved them after the divorce. Ellmann had told me she’s an artist. She works at a local community college teaching painting, sculpture, and drawing. She does her own art on the side and has done several art shows.

  “Well, okay,” I said. “We should be happy for him, right?”

  “She’s probably younger than my sister,” he said. “He’s not a young man anymore. I can’t help but wonder what she’s after.”

  No one in Ellmann’s family is hurting for money, least of all his father.

  “Okay, so when she gets here, we’ll get her full name and her prints and do a background check. If she seems shady, I’m not above a little intimidation.”

  He glanced down at me then laughed.

  “I want you to meet them,” he said after a minute.

  We walked to the door of the ice cream shop, and he pulled it open.

  Ellmann’s intimately familiar with my family after a couple encounters shortly after we met. It hadn’t gone well, but at least my dirty little secret was out on the table. I’d never met any of his family. I suppose I hadn’t thought it would never happen, but I had thought it would be a while longer.

  “When are they coming?” I asked as we got in line.

  “Tomorrow.”

  I knew my eyes were bigger than usual when I looked up at him.

  “Tomorrow? What kind of notice is that?”

  “He only called me today. That’s just how he is. My sister will fly in about an hour later. I was thinking we could all have dinner.”

  “Have you told them about me?”

  “Yes, a little. Please, don’t worry. They’ll love you.”

  Naturally. What’s not to love?

  “And on the off chance they don’t?”

  “Doesn’t matter. There’s a reason I moved to a state where none of my family lives.”

  __________

  We ate our ice cream at a table on the sidewalk outside the shop. We chatted about important things and about nothing. One of my favorite things about Ellmann is how easy it is to be with him. We don’t always have to be doing something or talking; we could do nothing and not say a word. We could also do anything or talk about anything. And I rarely get bored with him. He makes me think; he challenges me, pushes me. Ellmann’s very intelligent, and I found we are more equally matched than most people I know.

  But brains run in Ellmann’s family. Ellmann has degrees in science and psychology. His brother is an engineer. His sister was a chemistry major before she switched to art. Their father was a scientist for the Army Corps of Engineers until he retired. And their mother is some sort of biological research scientist for the Center for Disease Control.

  My family didn’t necessarily get shorted in the brain department, but mental illness runs rampant on my mother’s side, and there is a long history of abuse on my father’s. All of this significantly affected the ability of my relatives to pursue college degrees and honest, meaningful careers. My mother somehow managed to get an MBA and become a partner in her investment firm, but she was the exception to the rule, and I can’t even begin to guess how she managed to do it. It probably had something to do with the fact that the schizophrenia that runs in the family had skipped over her. She got bipolar disorder instead. By some miracle, both my brother and I seemed to be unaffected, but this is a constant fear in the back of my mind.

  I sat opposite Ellmann facing north. I watched the heavy foot traffic in and out of Starbucks over his shoulder. This Starbucks store is located in the old, historic Northern Hotel. Yesterday’s Ice Cream Shoppe and a couple other places share the space. The hotel is located on the north side of Old Town and just west of Old Town Square. There are always lots of people in this area, and today the place was hopping, with an almost constant string of people in and out. I could see customers milling around through the windows, but the number of people and my angle made it hard to differentiate anyone in particular.

  “Got your capture papers?” Ellmann asked as he took his last bite.

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go get him.”

  We stood.

  “You can’t help me.”

  “I’m just going for a cup of coffee.”

  We dumped our trash and walked to the corner. The place was crazy. Every table I could see was occupied. The line to place orders reached to the door. The line to pick up orders was just as long. I attempted to politely make my way through the crowd, but people pretended not to see me and didn’t move, afraid I was really trying to cut in line. People tended to move out of Ellmann’s way just because of his size—some instinctive fear of being flattened by a mountain. But I’d never given Ellmann much room to play rescuer to me, and I didn’t think now was the time to start. If I could save myself from kidnappers, I could get through a little crowd, right? Instead, I used my elbows to shove people out of the way, like I was making my way to the bar for a drink.

  There were a couple gasps, a few curses, a couple return shoves, but I paid no attention. When I was near the front, I could better see the baristas behind the counter. There was one kid taking orders and two others making drinks. None of them were Cory Dix. I worked my way around the store as best I could, searching for Dix, who was now here if what I’d been told about his schedule was true. I pushed through the crowd waiting for their coffee to search the small seating area toward the bathrooms. And then I heard it.

  “Zoe Grey.”

  The voice like nails on a chalkboard.

  I stopped. I didn’t want to turn around, but I could see no other choice. It was too late to pretend I hadn’t heard her, and I’d have to pass her in order to get out.

  Taking a breath, standing up a little bit taller, and pushing my shoulders back slightly, I turned.

  “Priscilla.”

  Priscilla Casimir had started at the private K-12 school I went to in third grade. She’d declared us mortal enemies on her first day because she believed our ancient Native American ancestors to have been enemies. I’d declared her my archnemesis because, in the third grade, I’d believed I was a superhero, and every superhero has an archnemesis. Priscilla is mean, self-centered, ugly, and a little bit crazy. Growing up, she’d looked a lot like Christina Ricci in the movie Casper, with pale white skin and long, black hair. Except Priscilla had weird (crazy) eyes, a huge forehead, which was always obvious bec
ause she wore no bangs, and a pointy nose and chin. She’d always been tall and thin, aside from having hips twelve sizes too big for her body, which I’d always secretly hoped she’d never grow into.

  Now, I could see some things had changed. Braces had straightened out her ugly teeth and, I suspected, her jaw, because her chin wasn’t nearly so pointy. Her nose was still pointy and slightly upturned at the end, but it had been softened by age and the effect of her thick bangs sweeping across her forehead. The bangs also hid her enormous forehead, which unfortunately helped her appearance dramatically. She was obviously paying someone a lot of money to style her hair because it was almost attractive (though I’d die before I admitted that out loud to anyone). It was still long, but she’d added highlights and layers.

  She may have been one of the tallest in school, but she’d done her growing early; she was only about five-five barefoot. She was still thin, but the healthy kind, not the bean-pole kind. I was devastated to see she had grown into her hips and that her body was well proportioned. Sometimes life just isn’t fair. She was wearing an expensive brown pinstripe pantsuit with a pink blouse and heels. Her jewelry, makeup, and perfume were also expensive. She was carrying a brown leather briefcase with a designer label. It was all the sort of stuff I used to buy when I was making six figures a year. I had never thought it was possible, but I actually hated her more just then.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice had gotten a little more nasally with age, I noticed happily. “And what happened to your face?”

  “I’m actually in the middle of something. Excuse me. Come on, Ellmann.”

  I grabbed his arm and turned, starting back through the crowd.

  “Now, is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  “We were never friends,” I said, turning back to her. “Don’t tell people that.”

  She grinned; it was that disgusting I-know-something-you-don’t grin. It always made me want to hit her. That’s something that hadn’t changed.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” she asked, eyeballing Ellmann like she was starving and he was a steak on a dinner plate.

  “No,” I said. “Excuse us.”

  I took Ellmann’s hand as she offered him hers.

  “I’m Priscilla. Zoe and I went to school together.”

  “I’m Alex Ellmann. I’m her boyfriend.”

  I was annoyed he’d responded. It was like letting her win. The whole point of an archnemesis was to not let her win. Duh.

  “Geez, Zoe, why do you call your boyfriend by his last name?” she whined.

  I couldn’t keep my eyes from rolling. I’d lost track of how many times people asked me that, and how many times I’d heard it today alone. In my opinion, which I held above most others, it was no one’s freaking business what I called my boyfriend.

  I was about to respond when I saw an employee pushing a mop and yellow bucket around the corner from the bathrooms. It was Dix. I knew he’d bolt if he spotted me. I wanted to get to him before he could get too far. I shifted slightly so Ellmann blocked me from his view, which bought me some time.

  “Listen,” Priscilla went on. “I just moved to town. You may remember, I graduated high school a year early and got a full scholarship to Stanford. After that, I went to law school at Harvard. I just started with a large, prestigious Denver-based firm that has an office here in Fort Collins. I’ve been working for about a month now, and I caught my first really big case today. It’s the kind of case that will get me noticed. I plan to work here for a couple years then transfer to the larger Denver office, where I’ll take on big, public cases and become a partner by the time I’m thirty.”

  The barista called a drink that was apparently hers. She went to get it, giving me the perfect opportunity to get away from her. But I found I was rooted to the spot. I suppose I was in shock. I’d always known Priscilla was intelligent, which made me hate her even more, because being intelligent just made being mean easier for her, but I was still surprised to hear how accomplished she was. What kind of world is it that mean people can succeed like she had?

  Coffee in hand, she returned.

  “So, what are you doing now?” she asked.

  I had nothing to say. I wasn’t married; I didn’t have kids; I didn’t even live in any of the houses I owned. I didn’t have a college degree, never having gone back to finish after quitting for a doomed relationship. I didn’t have a career, having quit the only career I’d ever had twice—once five years ago in order to move back to Fort Collins and put my brother back on the straight and narrow, and again four weeks ago when I’d started the bond enforcement thing. Technically, I still worked for White Real Estate and Property Management one day a week (too many clients threatened to walk away if I quit entirely), but I might have accepted one of Mark White’s promotions had I known a few weeks later I’d run into my archnemesis.

  “Zoe is in law enforcement,” Ellmann said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  Ellmann had clearly picked up on what I wasn’t saying. The “law enforcement” thing was a bit of a stretch.

  “Really?” Priscilla said, obviously skeptical.

  “Yes, and she’s good at it. She puts bad guys behind bars. And she helps people.”

  Now he was really playing me up. Not that he wasn’t always supportive, but this seemed over the top.

  “So, you’re, what, a cop?” she asked me.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

  “Not exactly,” Ellmann said. “But she’s on the same side.”

  I had watched Dix stop to mop the floor near the bathrooms. Now he was wheeling the bucket toward us.

  “What’s on the same side but isn’t a cop?” Priscilla asked.

  I stepped away from Ellmann as the crowd parted to allow Dix and the mop bucket to pass. The next part happened really fast.

  I moved in front of the bucket and said, “Hi, Cory.”

  Dix looked up, and an instant later, recognition hit. He gripped the mop with both hands and jerked it up out of the dirty water, shoving it forward. It hit my chest, knocking me back and slopping down my front. Then Dix dropped the mop, spun around, and ran back toward the bathrooms.

  I righted myself and started after him, knowing how much he liked bathrooms. I lost my footing on the mop as I hurried forward, stumbling, trying to go around the bucket. I ended up catching it with my knee as I was falling, pulling it over with me. I hit the floor, and the dirty water dumped out, soaking my shoes and my lower pant legs. I pushed myself up, aware of a screaming pain in my left shoulder as I did so, and charged forward as Dix disappeared through the door and around the corner out of sight. My shoes squished and squeaked as I ran after him.

  I took the corner too fast in wet shoes and slid into the wall. Back here, the restrooms are to the right along the interior of the hotel. To the left is an exterior door, which was still easing closed—I assumed Dix had torn through it. I ran after him, huffing and puffing, sweating and soaking wet with dirty mop water. I knew it was a lost cause (because I’m not a runner), but I refused to give up quite yet. I caught a glimpse of a pair of shoes disappearing around the corner to the left. I hurried after them.

  By the time I made the corner, Dix was gone.

  I slowed to a walk and, holding a stitch in my side, made my way back around to the front of the building. People were staring at me, and I noticed they were moving out of my way now—giving me a wide berth, in fact. I looked down at myself and could guess why. I sort of looked deranged. The mop had struck me in the chest, and my entire shirt front was soaking wet with dirty brown water. Under the dirt, though, the color had faded. My jeans, wet from the cuffs to mid-thigh, were also faded. There had been bleach in that water, the little bastard. My clothes were ruined.

  Ellmann came out of the coffee shop as I neared the door, Priscilla close on his heels, much to my disappointment. She was staring at me openly with wide eyes, eyes that seemed happy. Man, I hated he
r. Ellmann looked concerned.

  “Are you okay? How’s your shoulder?

  I nodded. “It’s okay. He got away.”

  “How many times have you found him so far?”

  “Twice.”

  He shrugged. “You found Tyler Jay three times. Dix doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “These were my favorite jeans,” I said.

  He chuckled. “They were great jeans.”

  “So this is what you do?” Priscilla asked, her nose decidedly upturned. “You chase people, allow them to elude you and ruin your clothes, not to mention embarrass you in front of dozens of people?”

  “Priscilla,” I said on a sigh, “it’s really too bad you moved back here.”

  “Oh, really? And why is that?”

  “Because I was here first, and you’re gonna find it’s too small for the both of us.”

  5

  My evening plans had been to have dinner with Ellmann, grab Dix and take him to the pokey, then drop in on Danielle Dillon’s grandmother where I would discover some clue as to her current location. The only part that had gone according to plan was dinner. After Ellmann and I left Priscilla standing on the sidewalk outside Starbucks, he walked me to my truck and I drove home. I stripped my clothes off in the doorway and deposited them in the garbage can. After a shower, in which I scrubbed and washed everything twice, I found clean clothes and set out again.

  If I’d had more time, I would have called it a day and picked up the search tomorrow. As it was, I’d already lost most of the day and had nothing to show for it. And I still believed Grandma would be the key I needed.

  I had the sides of the top up on the Scout, and I cranked the music as I drove. I sang along with every song I knew, and some I didn’t. I didn’t want time to think. I knew if I had it, I’d compare myself to Priscilla. Really, I know there is no comparison. I mean, this is me I’m talking about here. And her. No comparison. But that didn’t stop me from comparing us all the same. And comparing us made me feel bad. I didn’t have time to feel bad. I had things to do.