Ice Blonde

by Elaine Viets

  “No rape means both boys are off the hook,” Jace said. “Juliet’s parents will be furious. They’re convinced Dex killed her. They’ve pulled every string they can to get me to arrest the kid when he’s in the hospital.”

  “Is he still in a coma?” I asked.

  “He’s coming around,” Jace said. “He’ll be hurting for a while, with head injuries and a broken arm, but he should be okay.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Katie said. “The LaRouches are so hot for his hide, they even called Evarts and tried to get him to use his influence to arrest Dex. That’s another reason he headed for Kansas.

  “Let’s continue. Juliet was drinking beer and vodka. I could smell it when I opened her up. Her BAC – blood alcohol count – was .30. She was drinking up until the time she died. You found the water bottle with the vodka.”

  Jace raised his eyebrows. “That’s way over the legal limit. It’s .08 for grownups. For anyone under twenty-one, .02 is legally drunk.”

  “Isn’t that for driving – DUIs?” I asked.

  “Thank God she wasn’t driving,” Katie said. “She shouldn’t have been walking around. She got shit-faced at a party where adults were serving alcohol to minors.”

  Jace started to make a sound and Katie cut him off.

  “I know, there’s nothing you can do about it, Jace. All the Forest bigwigs use the same excuse: ‘It’s better if the kids learn to drink in the safety of their home,’ but there is no supervision. The parents go to their rooms and the kids guzzle everything they get their hands on. I hope the LaRouches sue the socks off Bella’s parents. That’s the only way to stop parents from serving alcohol to minors.

  “Usually kids that drunk barf their guts out and fall asleep,” Katie said. “Juliet was hammered enough to get fighting mad, and picked a fight with her boyfriend.”

  “So she fought with Dex on the way home and ran off into the woods in below-zero weather, wearing practically nothing,” I said.

  “Yep. Her coordination, balance and vision were off, and her reaction times were slow. She was damn unlucky. Most kids that drunk fall asleep. If she’d ralphed and then passed out, she’d still be alive today.”

  “What about amphetamines?” I asked.

  “The lab said the bag of white powder contained an ‘amphetamine-like substance’ but there was no trace of amphetamines in her blood.”

  “Then Lydia’s off the hook,” I said. “I got her fingerprints for nothing.”

  “You got them?” Jace said. “How?”

  “I wasted ten dollars buying a plain glass vase from the Savant Shop, where she volunteers. I cleaned it first and then she wrapped it for me in tissue paper. Her prints are all over it.”

  “Let me print that vase,” Jace said. “I may be able to use that information if Bella Du Pres’s family gives me any trouble.”

  “I didn’t hear that,” Katie said. “Do you want to know what killed Juliet?”

  Jace and I nodded.

  “She did not have a broken neck, or head wounds. She wasn’t poisoned or strangled. There were no broken bones, just a few minor scrapes, cuts and bruises from falling. She didn’t have a stroke or any detectable disease. From what I can determine, she was a perfectly healthy sixteen-year-old.”

  So what killed Juliet LaRouche?

  The unspoken question hovered in the air. We waited for Katie to answer it, too afraid to say something.

  The skull with the plastic poinsettia grinned at us. I watched a sweat drop roll down Jace’s forehead. The room was hot and claustrophobic. I wanted to unbutton my coat, but was afraid to move.

  We were so quiet, I heard the cheap clock mark another sixty seconds. We were now one minute closer to our own deaths.

  At last, Katie spoke. “Juliet’s death was a rare case of paradoxical undressing.”

  “What?” Jace said.

  “That’s where a person who’s freezing to death undresses while she’s dying from the cold,” I said. “I read about that. A person’s thermostat goes haywire and while the temperature may be below zero, they feel overheated and throw off their clothes. I thought that happened mostly to older people.”

  “It does,” Katie said. “But young, healthy adults can also be victims, especially if they’ve been drinking. And the flower of the Forest aristocracy was drunk as a skunk.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Jace said. “Her parents are never going to accept that. And I’m going to have to tell them.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  “That’s not your job.”

  “Yes it is,” I said. “And you’ll need a witness.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Friday, December 30, 6:15 p.m.

  “What killed my daughter?” Prentice LaRouche asked. “I have to know. He has to pay for this… this despicable crime.”

  I could hardly believe the skeleton sitting across from us was the same vigorous man who’d pounded on my front door three days ago. Jace and I sat on a pale brocade sofa. Juliet’s parents were in adjoining wing chairs by the marble fireplace.

  “Thank gawd Missouri has the death penalty,” Prentice said. “He did it, didn’t he?”

  Prentice LaRouche’s hand shook as he picked up a crystal glass of scotch from the table next to his chair. He seemed unable to say Dexter’s name. Dread seized me. This was going to be even worse than I expected.

  A hollow-eyed Midge twisted a lace handkerchief. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she didn’t cry. I wondered if she had any tears left. Midge’s dirty hair needed a stylist’s attention. Her face had collapsed into wrinkles. She wore no makeup and a shapeless black dress. On the table by her chair a gold-rimmed tea cup sat untouched.

  From its place over the marble mantelpiece, Midge’s debutante portrait smiled down. The radiant young woman in the gold-framed painting looked like a distant, luckier cousin of the raddled, broken woman in the living room.

  The fireplace was cold, and the photos of the luminous Juliet on the piano and the table tops were draped in black ribbon. The room smelled like a florist’s shop. Bouquets and plants bristling with sympathy cards crowded every surface.

  I braced myself. I knew Jace’s news would bring the LaRouches fresh sorrow.

  “There was no crime.” Jace’s voice was gentle. “Your daughter is dead, and that news is as bad as can be. But she wasn’t, uh… assaulted in any way.”

  Midge’s agonized howls made the hair stand on the back of my neck.

  Jace dutifully recited Katie’s findings, delicately avoiding the word autopsy. “The medical examiner said Juliet wasn’t injured in any way, she didn’t have a stroke, she didn’t break her neck, she…”

  Prentice slammed down his drink so hard it spilled on the table. “Don’t tell me what didn’t happen. Quit stalling! How was she murdered? I demand to know!”

  “She wasn’t murdered,” Jace said.

  “Impossible!”

  “She died in a freak accident, sir.”

  “Without her clothing? That’s absurd!”

  “It happens, sir. Her death was a rare case of something called paradoxical undressing. The temperature was below zero and she was freezing to death, but her body went haywire and she felt hot and threw off all her clothes. To her, it felt like a summer’s day, and she was overheated.”

  “I’ve never heard of such of a thing!” Prentice glared at Jace. “My daughter would never take off all her clothes, not even on the hottest days of summer.”

  “Paradoxical undressing is very rare, but it happens.”

  Prentice stalked over to the flower-packed sideboard and poured himself another drink.

  In the awkward silence, Midge managed a hesitant sentence. Her shoulders were hunched as if she expected to be beaten. “Juliet was only a short distance from her home. I don’t understand how she could freeze to death within sight of her house. She was perfectly healthy.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but she was extremely intoxicated.”

  “That can’t be true!”
Prentice was shouting now. He pounded the top of the sideboard. “My daughter didn’t drink! She was sixteen! She was at a chaperoned party given by one of the first families. By her aunt and uncle!”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Du Pres went upstairs to their room and let the kids have a good time,” Jace said. “I’m sorry to say that included underage drinking. The medical examiner said Juliet had a blood alcohol level of .30. She’d been drinking beer and vodka.”

  “He gave it to her! He forced her to drink it.” Prentice still wouldn’t say Dex’s name. He paced the room, unable to master his fury.

  “No one forced your daughter to drink anything,” Jace said. “Her water bottle was found with her. It contained a few ounces of vodka and only her fingerprints were on that bottle. Witnesses said she played beer pong and drank beer, then later switched to Grey Goose vodka.”

  Witnesses who talked to me, but wouldn’t talk to the police, I thought.

  “No!” Midge’s voice was a squeak, not a scream.

  Jace and I stayed silent and waited for the terrible news to sink in. Juliet’s parents had grown up in the Forest. They’d drunk alcohol at parties when they were teenagers. They also knew when those privileged teens drove home drunk, the officers let them off with a warning – if they even stopped them. Why wasn’t this police officer cooperating like the others?

  “You have to arrest that boy!” Prentice shouted, but this time, his voice lacked authority.

  “He’s done nothing wrong, sir. There is no evidence of murder.”

  “Who performed this travesty of an examination on my daughter?”

  “Dr. Katie Kelly Stern, the assistant medical examiner. Dr. Evarts Evans agreed with her conclusions.”

  Prentice glared at me, acknowledging me for the first time. “Young lady, you work for the medical examiner. Is that true?”

  “Yes, Mr. LaRouche. Dr. Evans is out of town until Monday, but he agreed with Dr. Stern’s report.”

  “Then I’ll talk to him when he returns.”

  “Mr. LaRouche, there’s one other thing you should know,” Jace said. “A Ziploc bag of white powder was found with Juliet’s clothes. It was analyzed and found to contain an amphetamine-like substance. A witness said Lydia Du Pres gave that bag of powder to your daughter. It’s very addictive.”

  Jace was really laying it on, I thought. He must want to punish Bella’s mother for trying to kill Juliet.

  “Why would Lydia give our daughter amphetamines?” Midge sounded dazed.

  “The witness said Lydia told Juliet that she was fat.”

  “My Juliet? Fat? Why that old witch. She’s big as a house. How dare she.” Midge’s anger put color in her cheeks again and she showed a flash of her old spirit.

  Jace continued his destruction of Lydia. “Juliet was very upset by her comments. Lydia told your daughter if she took this substance – it’s a weight-loss powder called Rad Rip – she would lose the extra fat.”

  “But Juliet wasn’t fat!”

  “I know, Mrs. LaRouche. As I understand it, Lydia was jealous of your daughter’s beauty. She wanted her own daughter to be DV Queen.”

  “Outrageous!” Prentice said. “There’s no way Bella will ever attend the DV Ball again. I’m calling my attorney immediately. I’m suing Bella Du Pres’s family. And that boy’s family. I’ll shut down that car shop. It’s an eyesore. I’ll ruin the lot of them, the way they’ve ruined my daughter.

  “You may go now. Both of you.” Prentice marched out of the room without looking back.

  Midge managed a tentative smile and tried to excuse her husband’s rude behavior. “Juliet was daddy’s little girl. This is hard on him. Is there anything else?”

  “No, Mrs. LaRouche.”

  “Could I ask you a question? Did she suffer?”

  “Not at all. She was feeling no pain,” I said.

  Midge heard the conviction in my voice and sighed. “Thank you. That’s a relief. I couldn’t bear the thought that my little girl died alone and in pain.”

  Midge escorted us to the front door. “Thank you for coming to tell us in person. Prentice is upset now. The news is so shocking. He needs to get used to the idea, but he’ll come around.”

  I felt a stab of pity for Juliet’s mother. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. LaRouche.”

  “I know you are, dear.”

  As Midge quietly closed the massive front door, the black mourning wreath rattled against the cold wood. The night was dark and moonless, and the temperature had dropped. I pulled my coat tighter and wished I’d brought my scarf to protect me from the freezing wind. Dead leaves scuttled across the courtyard and heavy grim clouds promised more snow. The sky was drained of light and life.

  Inside Jace’s car, the detective soon had the heater blasting warm air, but I couldn’t stop shivering. We sat in the courtyard a moment to recover from the wrenching scene.

  “You did a good job, Jace.” I smiled at him. “You really went after Lydia.”

  “She deserved it,” Jace said. “That woman tried to murder Juliet, and there’s no way I could prove it.”

  “You’re catching on how the locals operate,” I said. “The Forest will punish her, and they’ll show no mercy.”

  “Juliet’s father didn’t accept Katie’s conclusions,” Jace said. “Can he make trouble for her?”

  “He can try, but Evarts signed off on it, too, and he’ll prevail,” I said. “Prentice will raise hell for a while, and then he’ll start suing. Prentice wants to crush Dex’s family. He’ll sue them for impeding an investigation and lying to the police because the Gordons ordered Dex to go to his grandparents’ house. Prentice will try to nail them for obstruction of justice and false information. He’ll claim if the Gordons had told him where Juliet was when he pounded on their door, his daughter would be alive.”

  “He’ll have a hard time getting what he wants,” Jace said. “Katie can testify that Juliet was already dead by the time Prentice banged on Dex’s door. No charges will be filed against the boy or his family. Prentice will have to bring civil suits and most of the jury will be from Toonerville – the rich are good at getting out of jury duty. Dex’s family will have a real jury of their peers.”

  “Then Prentice will start suing Bella’s family,” I said. “He’ll make someone pay for his daughter’s death.”

  “Juliet’s already paid,” Jace said. “You ask me, her parents’ snobbery killed her. If they’d let her date that Toonerville boy, it would have been one more teen romance. Those rarely last. Instead, they said no and made Dex and his car exotic and forbidden.”

  “Dex and Juliet would have broken up for good the night of Bella’s party,” I said, “and that would have been the end of the Toonerville boy.

  “If Dex had been allowed to drive Juliet to her house, she would have been a beautiful Queen, instead of a beautiful corpse.”

  EPILOGUE

  New Year’s Day and beyond

  Juliet was dazzling in death. Her white skin was flawless, her hair icy blonde, her pale lips slightly parted. When they finished preparing her, the morticians at the Chouteau Forest Funeral Home admired their handiwork as if they’d created her. Juliet lay in state in her snow white coffin, banked by white roses. The girl was designed to dazzle, and her unearthly beauty would be praised until the casket lid was closed.

  I went to Juliet’s wake and funeral. I felt a personal connection to the girl. My fruitless effort to save Juliet and my thankless investigation bound me to the victim in ways I couldn’t explain. I hoped Juliet’s parents wouldn’t think I was one of the corpse flies, the older women who attended notable Forest deaths as if they were Broadway openings. Juliet’s wake had attracted a bigger audience than usual. Even gawkers from Toonerville showed up.

  Like nearly everyone, I wept when I saw Juliet.

  At the funeral home, I stood for nearly an hour in the receiving line in the largest viewing room. I was behind Juliet’s entire class at the Chouteau Forest Academy. Bella and Daisy were
in front of me, but the girls ignored me. I heard Bella whispering about her New Year’s Eve date with Brock and how they’d hooked up in his pool house, and wished I couldn’t hear the intimate details of their date.

  I expected the students to erupt into nervous laughter or hijinks while waiting in the long line, but they were subdued. Many seemed to genuinely mourn their lost classmate. Juliet wore the black velvet strapless dress she’d worn to the Holly Ball, as if she’d be dancing forever. When Bella and Daisy knelt in front of the casket to pray for Juliet, I thought I heard Bella say, “Didn’t Juliet wear that dress before?”

  Fortunately, Juliet’s parents didn’t seem to hear that comment. Midge and Prentice seemed numb to the sympathy and murmured condolences. Hollowed out and old beyond their years, the LaRouches’ reason for living was gone. Neither one appeared to recognize me when I finally reached them. Considering my connection with Juliet’s death, perhaps it was just as well.

  The day of Juliet’s funeral was sweetly sunny and warm, a rare winter day that promised spring would come soon. I stayed at the back of the crowd, nearly hidden by gray granite tombstones. I was close enough to see Midge collapse when her daughter was lowered into the cold ground. Prentice’s reaction looked different. He stiffened and his pale eyes seemed to burn with rage. I thought I had imagined that, until I heard what happened to Bella’s family. Then I was sure Prentice had vowed to ruin the people who destroyed his daughter.

  All the Forest’s first families came to Juliet’s wake and burial, except for Lydia Du Pres. The LaRouche family had a handwritten note delivered to Bella’s mother, requesting her absence. Lydia didn’t understand why a Du Pres would be barred from an important occasion. Perhaps they resented her because she had a living daughter who was going to be DV Queen. Lydia shrugged off the slight. Grief made people do strange things.

  She volunteered to work at the Savant Shop on the day of Juliet’s funeral, but her request was politely refused. She was shocked when she was asked not to return. No reason was given, but Lydia began to hear unpleasant whispers when she lunched at the Chouteau Forest Women’s Club. Her favorite table was no longer available, and the service was slow. When she was in a stall in the ladies room, she heard one club woman say, “I can’t believe Lydia has the nerve to show her face after what she did to poor little Juliet. Jealous old cow tried to poison that girl. Called her fat!”