by Linda Ladd
Suddenly the chopper swept into view, and my heart did a little glad-dance of sorts, one that pretty much embarrassed myself. I stood and watched the pilot expertly set the throbbing craft down on the tarmac about thirty yards away. When he motioned me to come, I headed out toward him, cold drops wetting my hair until the blast of the blades sent the rain spiraling off me and wildly away. With a jerk, I pulled open the passenger’s door and found that tonight Black piloted his own luxury helicopter. I climbed in, shut the door, and handed him the large Styrofoam cup of coffee I’d bought for him.
I yelled, “Here’s a little present. You’re gonna need it to get through the night.”
“Oh, God, what now?” Black took the coffee and took a gulp as if he needed one, but kept on his headphones and didn’t turn off the rotors. The reflections of the rain speckling the windshield also speckled his tanned face, and his eyes glinted so blue, sometimes I just couldn’t believe they were real and not a pair of cheesy electric-blue contacts.
I put on the headphones he handed to me. I said, “Nothing much. Just wanted to boost your energy so you can keep up with me in bed tonight.”
Black flashed me a quick grin. “I won’t need anything but you, trust me.” He turned back to his dials and began his flight discourse with the air controller.
A slight shiver coursed through my more intimate spots, and I inwardly agreed. The man did it for me, that was for sure. I had missed him a lot, and it hadn’t even been that long, for Pete’s sake. And though he’d called and we’d talked, his physical presence at night in bed was something I had grown accustomed to, and that was probably not a good thing. People in my life hadn’t lasted long in the past, and Black and I had been together quite a while. For all I knew, the end was in sight. Not that I was a pessimist, or anything.
“What’s with the chopper? Thought you were in the jet.”
“I changed my mind and had my pilot set down at the lake first. We can land at Taney County Airport outside Branson.”
“That’ll save us some drive time.”
“I brought you something from New York,” Black said, glancing over at me while he waited for permission to take off. “It’s right behind you. Grab it and see what you think.”
Leaning around the seat, I got a hold on the handles of a big dark blue gift bag and opened the top. Under some pale yellow tissue paper was a large red purse made out of what looked like alligator skin. I guess Black chose it because of his Louisiana bayou heritage. Or maybe he made a side trip to LaFourche Parish and gunned down a big red reptile for my luggage needs.
“Wow, a big red alligator bag.”
Black laughed at me. “It’s crocodile. And you wanted something to carry your extra ammo clips in, right? Buckle up, we’re cleared for takeoff.”
I did so, and we lifted off and banked up in the opposite direction of the terminals. Once we were flying high over the beautiful spectacle of the light-spangled city but under the heavy, crouching cloud bank, Black said, “The bag’s a Hermès. The Grace Kelly line. They’ve got a waiting list for this design, but I pulled some strings. I got it for you because I think you look like Grace Kelly when she was young and making movies. There’s a picture of her with it. Take a look.”
Vaguely I remembered Grace Kelly, but I wasn’t a movie buff. I did recall, however, that she was a reallive princess and that she looked like a bride in her coffin, which was a bit macabre so I didn’t mention that to Black. I held the little cardboard picture up to the dashboard lights. “I don’t look anything like this.”
Black leveled a sidelong look. “It’s not an insult, Claire. She was a beautiful woman.”
“I can’t see the resemblance.”
“Open the bag, Claire.”
I did so, and inside I found a new leather belt holster for my Glock 9 mm, all oiled up and ready to go. It had fancy embroidery on the edges and I hoped to God it wasn’t my name, or worst, my initials entwined with Black’s. Black was a sucker for personalized stuff. “All right, Black, now you’re talking. This a Hermes, too?”
Grinning, Black said, “They’re not into munitions yet, but trust me, that’s the best quality leather in the world. Thought you might want to carry your weapon on your belt for a change.”
“Thanks. I love it. This bag’s good, too. I’ll just dump Jules Verne in when I’m taking him to Harve’s.”
“That’ll work. They have designer dog carriers now, if you really want one.” I thought that sounded a little ridiculous as Black took a couple of minutes to talk turkey with somebody on the radio. A second later, he said to me, “We can get a car at Taney and I’ll drive into town.”
“You are one on-the-ball fella, Black. Handy to have around, even.”
“I also had Booker do some checking on that psychiatrist with the book you were asking about, Dr. Collins. I’ve met him but don’t know him well. Guess what I found out? He just happens to be hosting a seminar at the Chateau on the Lake resort in Branson. Thought you might want to stay there and try to get a word with him so I booked us the Presidential Suite.”
John Booker was Black’s old army bud and a hell of a good private investigator. “They told me up at the clinic that he was gonna be down in Branson around this time, but this is just lucky as hell, a real break, but I’ve heard of serendipity, meant to be, and all that. I’ll say it again, Black, you’re handy to have around.”
“I’m always at your service.”
“Right back at you.”
“I’m holding you to that, Grace.”
I smiled at that, but very soon it was time to set down, and I thought about how we ought to proceed with the investigation. I didn’t really want to approach the girl’s parents until I knew for sure that she was our victim, but drats, I just might have to. I hoped Buck could match that strand of hair in the morning so I could get the interview and notification over with and be back at the lake by nightfall. Not that I minded a day or two alone with Black in one of Branson’s premier vacation accommodations. Worse things could’ve happened, I admit it.
Black somehow managed to have us a plush black Lincoln waiting, of course, and he took the wheel, and off we sped to Chateau on the Lake—resort, spa and convention center. I’d heard about the luxury high-rise resort overlooking Table Rock Lake, but hadn’t ever been inside, or outside, either. Built in the design of a European castle, it rose about ten stories, had lots of lights and pools and high-end customers. About fifteen minutes later, we turned right into a steep entrance road and rounded a curve replete with cascading waterfalls with lots of overflowing plants and flowers inside the circle drive. At the door, three uniformed valets jumped to attention and gave us great big, welcoming smiles. They fought each other to open my door, no doubt recognizing Black as a big tipper. But they were friendly and seemed disappointed that Black only had one leather knapsack that he was carrying over his shoulder. Knowing him, it was probably full of cash.
We pushed through some lavish cut-glass doors and looked around. “Isn’t this place big-time competition for Cedar Bend Lodge?” I asked Black.
“Yeah, but the owner’s a friend of mine. We’re friendly competitors. I’ve been trying to get him to let me buy it, but he isn’t biting.” Black grinned, but I wasn’t sure if he was kidding, or not. He did so love his hotels.
I looked around, rather impressed, actually. Off to my right was some corpulent furniture, mostly leather and velvet-looking stuff. At the far end, I could see a fireplace with tables and chairs around it and a marble bar. While Black strolled over to the registration desk to our right, I moved deeper into the lobby.
It was quite the place, all right. A small high-end golf shop was to my right, but the interior atrium was what caught my attention, and everybody else’s. There was a huge tree at the bottom of it below three glass elevators zipping up and down. The tree was fake, but you had to look close to find that out. There was a little casual café nearby and more cascading waterfalls and lush greenery and a couple of seven-foot-
high birdcages with cockatiels in them. Almost as good as the Bass Pro Shop, but not quite. I could hear a couple of those birds calling back and forth to each other, probably making plans to break outta the place and fly to Brazil where they belonged. I stood at the railing and looked up ten stories, all the floors with railings decorated with ivy-draped flower boxes.
“What do you think of this place?” Black said, coming up behind me. I knew what he was after, so I obliged him.
“It doesn’t hold a candle to Cedar Bend,” I said, the diplomatic gal pal. Truth was I did like Cedar Bend better, maybe because Black lived there. This place gave it a run for its money, though.
“You’re right, but the Chateau’s not bad. Doesn’t have the privacy of the Lodge, though.”
I wondered if there had been any celebrity murders here like at his place, but that really hadn’t been his fault and I’d solved it, so there you go. “Yeah, lots of families lolling around in here.”
“They’ve got an excellent restaurant over there.” He pointed to some fancy doors back to our left.
“Ooh, it looks almost as fancy as yours, too. Maybe they’ve got those delicious snails you like so much.”
Black said, “We’ll try them out, but we’re having room service while we’re here, providing we have time to eat.”
Now that sounded damn good to me. Not that I hated crowds, of course, but I did hate crowds, of course. My stomach growled to show its displeasure at being owned by somebody like me who forgets to feed it. I should have made a play on some of Harve’s fried fish that Bud scarfed up in a minute flat on the drive down from the lake.
I ignored irritated belly sounds and said, “Before we go up, let’s see if Collins’s seminar’s still going on. That easel sign over there says it’s tonight and in the Heidelberg Room.”
“I guess we can do that, if we have to. I spent last night and most of today sitting through these kinds of lectures.”
We turned and walked past the railed atrium and the Chateau Boutique, in case I should have an urge to spend thousands of dollars on a pair of shorts or sequined top, which I wouldn’t, and into a huge and equally plush convention center. There were lots of doors lined up with ostentatious names over them like Versailles, Windsor, and Madrid and great big chandeliers that looked French country style and a lot like upside-down circus tents.
As it turned out, Collins’s program was still in progress, though nearing the end, much to Black’s relief. We slipped into the door at one side of a gigantic conference room and sat at a table with a pristine white linen tablecloth replete with fancy crystal water goblets and place settings for ten. Too bad there wasn’t any food on the plates. Behind our table was a gigantic mural about twenty feet high and almost as wide. It was a picture of a castle and a body of water.
Black said, “All these meeting rooms have replicas of paintings of European castles. This one’s the Chateau de Chillon in Switzerland. You know, like in Lord Byron’s epic The Prisoner of Chillon.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” I said to humor him, but I was more interested in Collins. He was standing at a podium against the far wall in front of a large screen. He was giving a little PowerPoint show and the four big tent chandeliers like the ones out in the hall were dimmed way down so nobody at all the other tables much noticed our better-late-than-never arrival. I leaned forward, trying to look like I had even a pinprick of interest in psychiatry but really just getting a good gander at the man standing in the spotlight and droning on about hypnotism.
The good doctor appeared to be in his early thirties, maybe even late twenties. He wore a navy blue blazer and khaki pants, and he looked fit and muscular under his white shirt and red tie, like he worked out a lot. And he was very tanned, which made his sun-streaked brown hair look lighter. He was a lot younger than I had expected, but then again, until I met Black, I thought all shrinks wore white beards and looked like Sigmund Freud. Collins was discussing his specialty, hypnotherapy and suicidal psychosis, which was pretty damn apropos, if you ask me. Not to mention, heavy on the ear.
Black sat back and crossed his arms and looked more interested than me, but that wasn’t hard. After all, he was a shrink and kept up with all this hocus-pocus and heal-my-mind-physician stuff. I listened and slowly receded into a bored, trancelike state, because the speech was way too technical and touched on things I’m sure I would hate if I understood what they meant. The speech was going on way, way, way too long, too. I leaned close to Black’s ear. “Does he know what he’s talking about?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s pretty good. I’ve heard about this new book but haven’t read it yet. I’ll get him to sign one for you before we leave. His specialty is depressed teenagers with suicidal tendencies.”
“Oh, wow, that’s upbeat. Must give him one jolly holly disposition.”
“That’s his expertise. What can I say?”
“How long you think this’s gonna go on?”
Black pulled back his jacket cuff and glanced down at his gold Rolex. “Supposed to last till nine. It’s ten minutes to.”
“Okay. After he shuts up, let’s go up, meet him, get that book unless it’s the one I already have, and let me set up an interview. Otherwise, it’s no telling how long he’ll put me off.”
“Please tell me you don’t want to talk to the guy now?”
“No, I wanna go back to Oak Haven and snoop around when I talk to him. Speak to some more of Mikey Murphy’s friends in the program. Instincts tell me that something happened up there, something that triggered Mikey to hang himself under that bridge. Or someone else to hang him under there.”
A couple of ladies sitting at the table directly in front of us turned, oh, ever so slightly, to alert us that we were rude, yes, even unruly saps who spoke too loudly about people hanging under bridges. I nodded politely to them and hushed such gory talk and listened to the good doctor wind down his presentation. He was a good speaker, I guess, had a low bass voice, good eye contact with the audience, and was relaxed, confident, pompous, but in my estimation, he was still mucho into the bore factor. I wondered how he’d be in a one-on-one session with clients. If he’d charm the pants off them like Black did, and I don’t mean that literally, although he did manage that in my case, or if Collins would be the fatherly type, or maybe in his case, the caring and protective older brother.
Finally, he stopped with the lecture, the lights came up, and people flooded up front and surrounded him like he had just cured cancer. Black and I threaded through the crowd that was pouring out the exits, all of them probably hungry, too, and made our way to the spot at the lectern, where Collins was shaking hands with his admirers. When he glanced up and caught sight of Black, who stood above most of the crowd at six foot three, he waved to him and looked genuinely pleased to see such an esteemed colleague in attendance. He excused himself from the small knot of smiling well-wishers and walked over to meet us. I wondered if he’d look as pleased when he saw my badge.
“Boyce, it’s good to see you,” Black said, reaching out to shake hands.
“Yes, that it is, Nick. When was the last time? San Francisco, maybe, last year?”
“Probably was. Boyce, I’d like to introduce Claire Morgan. She’s a detective with the Canton County Sheriff’s department over at the Lake.”
I was glad he didn’t say my girlfriend, or even worse, my woman. Dr. Collins smiled at me, his long-lashed, big brown eyes very warm and friendly, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had the remnants of a bruise on his right eye. Now where would a pansy doctor pick up a shiner like that? Then I saw my name ring a bell inside his head, which seemed to be going on a lot lately. Guess I was gonna have to start wearing disguises. “Oh, the lake, that’s where they found Mikey Murphy. Marty called from the clinic and told me you needed to set up an interview. Is that why you’re here?”
For some reason, I decided that yes, sir, I was. “Would that be convenient for you, sir? To sit down with me a few minutes right now?”
&nb
sp; Black frowned and looked more than displeased, but I pretended not to notice his ire. The case had to come first, he knew that, and I was just itching to get my hooks in this smooth-talking guy. He was so slick, in fact, that his clothes probably slipped off at bedtime without provocation.
“Well, actually, and I’m terribly sorry to have to put you off, but it’s not a convenient time. I would be glad to, of course, but I’ve got to catch a plane to Nashville within the next ninety minutes over in Springfield, and I’m barely going to make it now. But I am eager to discuss this case with you. Mikey was a fine young man. I was just sick when I heard what happened.”
“How did you hear what happened?”
“The clinic called me. Marty. He said you’d been up there interviewing people and needed to talk to me. He indicated that you’d call and make an appointment.”
“That’s right. It’s important that I talk to you. Perhaps we could set up a date now?”
“Of course, if you like. He did tell me that you talked to some of the patients. Mikey was very popular with all the kids. Who did you interview?”
“So far, just Cleo and Roy, but I need to go back. Do you have a day we could agree on in the near future?” The friendly, accommodating detective butters up the target.
“Sure, but I need to check my calendar first. How about I give you a call? I hope the staff was cooperative. This is just such a terrible, terrible thing. His parents must be devastated.”
Well, mom hadn’t cried me a river. “Yes, it’s sad, but we’ll find out who did it soon enough.”
Collins smiled down at me. He was pretty tall, too. I’m five foot nine, after all. “I like your confidence, detective.”
“Thanks.” But I wondered if he really did like it. I was trying to figure out if this guy was for real but wasn’t quite sure. I’d have to get him alone and pull his chain some, which sounded like a fun time, at least for me. “When do you think you’ll be available, Doctor? I can drive to Jeff City again as soon as you give me the day. This is an urgent matter. I hope you understand that.”