by Elaine Viets
“Well, they were right, but when he ran he looked even guiltier. I hate to see another kid’s life ruined.”
“I’m hoping this path tour will help clear him. We need to give the police someone else to look at, and Juliet had a fight with another boy the night she disappeared. He could have left the party at the same time and waited for her on the path by her home.”
“All the kids use them,” Rick said. “It’s the best way to get around the Forest without the grownups seeing you or your car. Besides, I like walking in the woods. I started when I was six years old.”
“Your parents liked the outdoors?”
Rick laughed. “Hardly. I had a Swedish nanny when I was a kid.”
“Wow!”
“If you’re thinking a blonde in a string bikini, my mother wasn’t that stupid. Annah was a lovely lady, but old enough to be my grandmother. She’d take me for long walks after school and on weekends. Annah knew these woods better than most locals. Even after she went back home, I kept the habit of walking because… uh, my parents are good people, but we don’t get one another. I think they picked up the wrong baby at the hospital.”
“Rick!”
“I feel sorry for them. Most of my friends are stockbrokers, doctors, and lawyers. My parents got stuck with a hippie throwback.”
“With a successful contracting business.”
Rick shrugged. “It’s too blue collar. They’d rather have a hard charger for a son, but at least I’ve stayed out of jail. Ah, here’s the entrance to my favorite path. You have to see where I used to hang.”
I realized we were on Gravois Road, the main thoroughfare through the Forest.
“Different groups of kids staked out their own paths. You can just see this one through those trees.” He pointed at a stand of oak along the side of the road, and pulled his truck over. “Oaks keep their leaves in the winter. This used to be the road to reefer madness.”
He grinned at me. I climbed out of the truck and he helped me across the snowy culvert. “This path should be big enough for both of us.”
I followed him along a winding trail. We passed the ruins of an abandoned farmhouse, little more than snow-covered piles of wood. “On the other side of that house, the path ends in a sort of bowl.”
Walking was easy on the wide path. A bird was singing, but when our footsteps crunched on the snow-crusted gravel it flew away.
“There it is!” Rick pointed to a bowl-shaped depression ringed by towering trees. “We used to sit on those big rocks and get high. It was nice and shady in the summer. The potheads hung out here – and they still do. The nerds were closer to the Academy, and the serious users were way back in the woods behind Reggie Du Pres’s house. You grew up in the Forest, Angela. Why don’t you know about the paths?”
“I was never one for the great outdoors.”
“Neither is my sister, but she still takes the paths.”
“I went to the Academy, but I didn’t hang out with most of the kids. My parents worked for Old Reggie.” They didn’t associate with the daughter of servants.
“Oh. That sucks.”
“Not really. I’d rather read a book.” That’s what I told myself, anyway.
I broke the uncomfortable silence. “The path that runs behind Juliet’s house – what kind of kids use it?”
“When I was growing up, that was mainly where the straight kids hung out and smoked cigarettes. There’s an old stone spring house hidden back there, and some kids used it to have sex.”
“What’s a spring house?”
“It’s a little building over a natural spring. In the old days, before people had refrigerators, a spring house kept their drinking water clean – kept out the dead leaves and raccoons. They’d also store their butter, meat, and milk there. That could be where Juliet met up with Dex, though they may have gone old school and used his car, or possibly her family’s pool house.”
I remembered Daisy telling me, our secret place is down this one.
“Could you show me the spring house?”
“Can we go there? Didn’t the police tape off that path?”
“I think that part of the investigation is over. If there’s a problem, I’ll call Detective Budewitz.”
Five minutes later, Rick was on Juliet’s street, parked in the same spot that I had been parked in yesterday. The street entrance to the path was now a shrine to the dead girl, heaped with teddy bears, Mylar balloons, flowers, and homemade posters decorated with hearts and photos of Juliet.
The yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the light breeze, but no police officer guarded the entrance. Rick helped me past the brambles and winter-dead poison ivy. At the creek where Juliet’s body had been found were more tributes.
“This is where you and Daisy found her?” Rick said.
I nodded, afraid I’d start crying again. I looked past the pile of tributes and saw a heart-shaped wreath of pink silk roses floating on the spot where Juliet’s body had been. The wreath was tied to a thick pink ribbon held down with a massive stone.
We stood in silence for a long moment. “Poor girl. Poor little girl.” Rick shook his head. “If you want to go to the spring house, it’s past Juliet’s house, about a quarter of a mile. Can you walk that far?”
“I’m fine, and not too cold.”
This part of the path was not as well used. We trudged through the snow and passed the backs of two massive mansions and a snow-covered tennis court.
“That’s Juliet’s house.” Rick pointed to the four-story brick building, which was surprisingly plain at the back. All the curtains were closed. “If you go a little farther, you can see the spring house down in that hollow.”
At first, I thought it was another gray rock jutting out of the ground. But as we walked closer, I saw a flat-roofed gray stone structure about the size of a tool shed in a hollow by the creek. The spring house was covered with green moss and someone had partially repaired the old wooden door.
Rick helped me down to the spring house. I slid slightly in the snow, but his strong arms kept me from falling. Rick pulled open the heavy door and it made a cold, rusty squeak.
Inside, the windowless building was dark and cold as a tomb. The damp chilled my bones. The room stank of cigarettes and was barely big enough for the stained mattress on the floor. Stubbed out cigarettes, empty matchbooks, junk food bags and fast food wrappers littered the floor.
“Do you think Juliet and Dex had sex on that mattress?” I couldn’t picture the romantic Juliet making love in this gloomy stone room.
“They could have brought their own bedding in a picnic basket,” Rick said. “I’ve heard stories where guys actually shoveled out the trash, then lit a few candles. This could be romantic if you’re sixteen and horny. See. Look at all the melted candles on the ledge.”
Dozens of fat candles in a rainbow of colors lined a wide ledge. Most were wax puddles, but a few could still be lit.
“Maybe.” Did Brock meet Juliet on the path to her house, and try to persuade her to go to the spring house for sex?
In that case, why did she strip off her clothes by the creek?
CHAPTER 15
Thursday, December 29, 10:29 a.m.
“Damn it, Angela, I can’t believe we missed this,” Jace said. “That’s just shoddy police work.”
The detective was pacing up and down on the path, beating himself up. I’d called Jace about the spring house after Rick and I had explored it. Then I’d made sure Rick left for his eleven o’clock job, telling him, “I’ll catch a cab home.”
I didn’t have to wait long for Jace to show up, but I didn’t think he’d stop berating himself. “I’ve slipped since I moved here from Chicago. I’m getting lazy.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “You aren’t from around here. I grew up in the Forest, and I didn’t know about the spring house. Neither did Sarah the tech.”
Jace refused to let himself off the hook. “I should have gotten off my lazy rear end and walked the
rest of the path.”
I shrugged. “You still wouldn’t have seen it. From the path, it looks like a big rock. Sarah’s on her way and she’s gonna have her work cut out for her.”
We heard crunching on the snowy path, and there was Nitpicker Byrne, lugging her case. The tech wasn’t bundled up quite as much as she’d been for Juliet’s death scene. The zaftig blonde’s hair changed every time I saw it. This time, she sported a festive green. Last time, it had been bright blue.
Jace helped Sarah with the bulky case and the two climbed down the hill while I stayed on the path. I saw Sarah look inside the spring house and groan. “Jeez, this is a stone Dumpster. How much do you want me to bag and tag?”
“I need everything,” Jace said.
“Everything?”
“Sorry, Sarah. It can help me eliminate suspects, or catch them in a lie.”
“But some of this junk is old.”
“Unless I have a print on a dated register receipt, I don’t know how long the stuff has been here,” he said. “If there’s a suspect, I want him to say he was never in the spring house. Then, if his prints are on that chip bag, we’ve got him.”
“Unless he handled the bag prior to it being taken to the spring house.”
“His lawyer can argue that,” Jace said.
“You know it’s unlikely I’ll get prints off this porous stone.”
“I know. But if some candle wax was spilled on the stone, a plastic print could be left in the wax. Take those candles, too. Prints could be in the wax.”
“Okay, but there are gonna be some disappointed love birds when the weather warms up. Collecting and bagging these butts and trash is going to take the rest of the day. You’ll have more DNA than a hot sheet motel. Do you want me to run it all?”
“Let’s wait until after the autopsy,” Jace said. “If Katie doesn’t find any signs of sexual assault, or if the vic died of exposure, you may not have to process this trash heap.” He looked apologetic. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, and I’m asking a lot, but I’ve spent many an hour processing cans, butts, wrappers, and worse.”
“I’m not complaining, just trying to give you what you want. I want the bastard who killed that little girl as much as you do.” Sarah opened her case and started working, and Jace rejoined me back on the path.
“Do you need me to stay,” I said, “or can I go home? I can call a cab.”
“I’ll take you. You’re not that far away.”
Jace’s unmarked Charger was parked on the other side of the shrine to Juliet. We both stood before the sad collection of stuffed animals and wilting flowers for a moment. I saw new bouquets had been added since this morning, along with a miniature pink teddy bear.
On the ride home, I asked, “Any new information from Katie?”
“It’s looking less and less like the vic was assaulted,” he said. “She didn’t find any defensive wounds on her hands, or any fingernail scrapings.
“If Juliet wasn’t raped, that will be some comfort for her parents.”
“Cold comfort, pardon the phrase. We’ll know more when Katie can check for semen. There’s no word yet on the blood alcohol level.
“What about the big bag of white powder?” I asked.
“Don’t know about that, either. The lab’s backed up.”
The snow was starting to melt a little when Jace dropped me off at home about twelve-thirty. I made more coffee, then warmed up some tomato soup and fixed a salad – the trek in the cold had made me surprisingly hungry. As I was rinsing my dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, my cell phone chimed. I had a text from Daisy, Will you take Bella and me to the Olive Garden? Bella’s at my house.
I texted back, On my way.
Rick had been right. Daisy did want to go out, and she’d persuaded her mother to let me drive her. I was glad to take the girls. I needed more information.
Daisy and Bella were waiting at the front door of the DeMun house, and hurried out as soon as they saw my car. The girls seemed more subdued today, and a little older. Daisy wore a raccoon mask of eye makeup and a dark green coat. Her brownish hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Round-faced Bella looked chunky in her furry boots and three-quarter-length coat. Most of her hair was hidden by a gray knit cap.
The girls greeted me, then climbed into the back seat as if I was a chauffeur. I felt a burst of annoyance, then decided to cut them some slack. They both looked like they’d been crying; their eyes were red and raw. Daisy had bruise-like marks under her eyes, and I wondered if she’d gotten any sleep.
As I put the car in gear, Daisy said, “Wait! I have to take a selfie in your car and send it to Mom. Then she’s okay if I go.”
“Gawd, that’s like being a prisoner,” Bella said.
“She’s making me crazy. She wants proof every time I say I’m going anywhere. I have to take another selfie at the Olive Garden when we get there and then when we leave for home. My brother says I got off easy for sneaking out of the house, but I didn’t. I have to pay for my own car repairs.”
Daisy snapped two cell phone photos of her and Bella in the back seat.
“Let me see,” Bella said. “Don’t use that one. It makes my nose look big. Not that one, either. My hair looks awful. Take another.”
The girls were oblivious to me, but I waited patiently. They had information and I was determined to get it. Daisy snapped more selfies and this time, Bella approved one. “Ready, ladies?”
“Yes. You can go now,” Daisy said. “Hurry up. We’re gonna be late.”
I didn’t hold you up taking selfies, I thought, but bit back those words. Teenagers are annoying. Deal with it.
I kept my voice sympathetic. “How are you, Daisy? Rick said you didn’t sleep last night.”
“Every time I’d close my eyes, I’d see Juliet in the creek, covered with ice and I’d start shivering like I was freezing. It was horrible.”
“Did you take pictures of her in the creek?” Bella asked.
“No! It was too awful. I wanted to cover her up and Angela wouldn’t let me. Juliet was naked. If I took pictures, everyone would see her like that.”
I turned onto Gravois Road, heading for the highway. Daisy was still talking about her lost friend. “Juliet’s like the only dead person I’ve ever known. It hurts to think about her. Every time I start to remember she’s dead, I cry. Mom says it will get better and the bad stuff will fade away in time. She said you lost your husband, Angela, and you got over it.”
I felt as if Daisy had stabbed me. My hands gripped the steering wheel to control my anger. I knew people talked about Donegan’s untimely death, but I hated that the man I loved was part of a casual conversation. “I won’t ever get over losing my husband. Ever. It’s been almost two years. But it’s starting to hurt a little less. I’ve never lost a friend like you have, Daisy, but I imagine it will be painful for a long time, and then the pain will start to fade and things will get better.”
“Not for me,” Bella said.
I looked at the chunky brunette in the rear view mirror, then glided onto I-55. The Olive Garden was two exits away.
“Why?”
Bella started crying.
“What’s wrong, Bella?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“You can tell me.” Daisy’s voice was soft with sympathy. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything. Now that Juliet’s gone, Mummy says I can be the DV Queen.” Bella’s voice rose to a wail. She was crying for herself, not for Juliet.
“Mummy made Daddy put up the extra money so I could be Queen. It’s another twenty thousand dollars and she said it would be an investment in my future. I didn’t even want to be a stupid Maid.”
A Ford F-150 pickup blasted my car and swung around us.
“I’d rather have the money,” Daisy said.
“Me, too,” Bella said. “Now I have to go to lunch with a bunch of creak-a-sauruses at the club.”
I assumed that was the Forest Women’s Club. Bella’s tears had dri
ed up in her outrage.
“The creak-a-whats?” Daisy asked.
“The old ladies who run the DV Selection Committee. They hang out at the Club. They’re about a hundred and ten years old and Mummy says they’re important. They decide who gets to be Maids and who’s Queen.”
“I’d refuse to go.” Daisy stuck out her chin.
“I did! Mummy said if I don’t go, she’ll take my car. In fact, she took it now. She said that would” – Bella’s voice rose to a precise, prissy tone – “‘Give you a taste of what life will be like if you don’t make the cut, young lady.’”
She was back to her normal voice now. “I meet with the DV committee this Saturday, and I have to be nice to them. But I still don’t get my car back until the wrinklies say yes. Mom also said I could get a new iPhone if they agree and this one is like prehistoric. I’m embarrassed to use it.”
“Does your mother know how you feel about being Queen at the Daughters of Versailles Ball?” I asked.
“Of course she fuckin’ knows.” Bella savored that F-word. “Nobody wants to be part of it. Mummy says she’s making these sacrifices for my future. Daddy has to spend money and she’s working almost every morning at the Savant Shop to suck up to the old ladies who run the DV committee.”
“Ew. I hate that place,” Daisy said.
“I do, too,” Bella said. “It’s like a junk shop.”
The Savant Shop was a pricey resale shop where the Forest first families donated their knickknacks and dead relatives’ outdated designer dresses. The proceeds went toward the Chouteau Forest Women’s Club scholarship fund.
Bella pounded the back of my seat in frustration. “I hate her! I hate her! I hate the fucking DV Ball. And now I have to do it.” The girl’s face was red with fury.
This was the opening I had been waiting for. “Maybe not, Bella. There may be a way out. At your party, your mother said something to Juliet that upset her. What was it?”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about! Mummy was jealous of Juliet because Juliet was perfect. Mummy didn’t want her to be the DV Queen, so she told Juliet she was fat.”