Stone Cold Case (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  She herded Morgan away, but not before Morgan got a glimpse of the den as Kurt entered the room. The décor was not what she expected from Harlan Cooper. There were no animal heads on the walls, no heavy leather furniture. Marlene must have demanded the English countryside look.

  Mrs. Cooper led her down the hallway. Her sandals clacked as she walked slowly, deliberately, taking the careful steps of someone who was perhaps dosed with prescription drugs. Morgan might have enjoyed the brief tour of the house, except that all the doors were closed. She did catch a glimpse of a spacious kitchen so neat and tidy, it was difficult to imagine meals had actually ever been prepared on the state-of-the-art appliances. Trays covered with plastic wrap sat on marble counters.

  Out the back door, Morgan followed Marlene onto a redwood deck larger than the rock shop’s living quarters. A gas grill big enough to barbeque a buffalo dominated one end of the deck. The rest was filled with outdoor furniture and umbrellas. Kurt’s 1940s’ vintage reporter outfit did not seem out of place among the varied costumes on display in the expansive flower garden. All the usual Golden Springs types paraded around the graveled pathways or clustered near outdoor heaters. Piers had gathered a group of sandaled and tie-dyed types around him. They smelled of patchouli oil and maybe something else that had recently been legalized. Western shirts and cowboy hats mingled with the perennial Colorado fleece vests and hiking boots, and a few, like Anna, wore New York boardroom power suits.

  Jade was the center of attention, and someone had dressed him for the part. Probably Mia, who was at his elbow. She was stunning in an Asian-inspired black dress covered with large red flowers. With her lean build, the dress worked. Spike heels lifted her to the lofty heights of Jade’s shoulder. Her short auburn hair was in a softer style, rising from her scalp in gentle waves. Jade wore a Nehru-collared jacket in a black that matched Mia’s dress. His long golden hair was swept back in a ponytail and tied with a narrow red ribbon.

  The crowd around the beautiful couple was three-deep, and clamoring for an audience with as much enthusiasm as if Jade and Mia were royalty. Maybe for Golden Springs, the family with the most money qualified for that role. The Coopers were definitely not Old Money, though. There was a crass pretentiousness that declared their fortune had been recently amassed.

  Morgan made the rounds of the garden, stopping to chat with Anna. Then Dr. Henry and Patty Drewmoore approached, asking about Morgan’s hand, and then Adelaide’s condition.

  “Dr. McCormick says she may have several more months to go,” Morgan said. “Donkeys carry their foals forever and a day.”

  “Poor Adelaide,” Patty said. “We’ll all be glad when she delivers. Baby donkeys are so cute.”

  “It looks like the show is finally going to begin,” Henry said.

  Morgan hadn’t even begun investigating when the press corps exited the back door onto the deck, escorted by Harlan Cooper.

  She moved with the crowd toward the podium on the deck, until she noticed the side gate open. Camille herded Gayle and Farley through, glanced around, then latched the gate. Crashing Jade’s press conference. Things were about to get interesting. Camille attempted to meld into the shrubbery in a bland rose-colored pantsuit that had probably done service at many a PTA meeting. It did nothing to flatter her dumpy figure. She looked panicked when Morgan walked up to her.

  “I didn’t know you were coming to Jade’s press conference,” Morgan said.

  “I had to see what the excitement was about,” Camille said. “Kids, go help yourselves to the snacks.”

  “I wonder if they have sushi,” Farley said.

  Gayle shaded her eyes and peered toward a white tent at the back of the garden. “I think I see a chocolate fountain.”

  The slender teen wore a snug pink tank top. Her jeans fit like pantyhose. She wobbled on top of the same stacked heels she’d worn Sunday. Camille waited for her children to leave, then turned to Morgan.

  “Are you the door guard?”

  “No. I’m here because Kurt invited me. I didn’t crash the party. I’m guessing you came in the side gate because you don’t have an invitation.”

  “I had to see Jade. I need to know whether he even remembers Carlee.”

  “He does,” Morgan said. “I talked to him a few days ago, and he seemed genuinely broken up about your sister’s death.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll bet. That Jade is a good actor. Everyone thinks he and Carlee were the couple of the century.” She snorted.

  “Really?” Morgan asked. “I haven’t heard this side of things.”

  “Carlee was desperate to leave Golden Springs. You can probably guess why. These days people would call our family dysfunctional, but back then we were just the messed up Krugers. Jade was perfectly happy as a small-town boy with small-town dreams. When I heard he made it big time, I wanted to see what my sister missed out on.”

  Morgan doubted Carlee would have lived the high life with Jade Tinsley. Mia was the one who propelled Jade, almost against his will, to his current state of wealth.

  A woman in her mid-thirties approached. “Camille? Is that you?”

  Morgan listened as they reestablished an acquaintance that had begun in junior high. The woman was one of the tie-dyed set. Whatever motivation Camille had for crashing the party, the damage was done. She wasn’t leaving any time soon. Morgan scanned the deck. Cooper was plying the press corps with drinks. Jade wasn’t with him. He wasn’t in the garden or under the food tent, either.

  Morgan marched up to the back door like she belonged there. She glanced into the kitchen. One of the uniformed wait staff pulled the plastic wrap off a tray of cheese and crackers and headed for the deck. Morgan ducked out of the way, then scooted down the hallway, prepared to tell anyone who stopped her that she was hunting for the bathroom, even though there was an elegant wood-paneled bathroom trailer outside for the guests.

  No one could mistake the double doors to the den for a bathroom, but Morgan opened one side a crack. The room seemed empty, until she noticed Jade’s golden hair as he slouched in a chair facing the fireplace. Morgan froze. She hadn’t thought out what she might say to Jade. Who killed your fiancée? Your wife or your brother-in-law? Sasquatch? You? She was snooping mindlessly, hoping clues would leap out at her. Morgan backed up and started to close the door.

  “Hello, Mary.”

  She didn’t correct him this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You must be practicing your speech.”

  “I’ll be reading from index cards. I can’t memorize other people’s words.”

  “Your father-in law’s?”

  “In a good part. Mia made her additions, too.”

  Morgan sat on the chair next to him.

  “I suppose you think I’m foolish,” Jade said, “letting other people run my life.”

  “No,” Morgan said. “Not if you’re happy.”

  Jade’s handsome face crumpled in misery. In the silence, Morgan could hear the tick-tock of the grandfather clock. She waited until she was sure Jade wasn’t going to burst out sobbing.

  “If you’re so uncomfortable about running for City Council, then back out. Don’t make the announcement.”

  “And disappoint my wife’s family? The Coopers have done so much for me. And Mia . . .”

  “Better now than later.”

  Jade lowered his face into his hands. His broad shoulders slumped. Jade’s emotions seemed out of proportion to the situation. Maybe Camille was right, and he was acting. But there might be another option. Morgan took a guess.

  “This isn’t just about running for City Council.”

  “No,” he mumbled through his hands. Jade looked up, but not at Morgan. He stared at the closed curtains to the French doors. “It seems kind of funny that this opportunity came up right when you found Carlee. It’s almost like, I don’t know. It sounds silly.”

  Morgan waited while he sorted out his thoughts, hoping he had time before the Coopers interrupted to drag him off to fulfill
their destiny.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You just seem like a good listener. Not judging my words. Just hearing them. I feel like I’m at a crossroads. Do I continue on this path that others chose for me, or do I strike out on my own? Everything in my life changed the day Carlee disappeared, and a part of me died. I know. How cliché, right? But from that day on, I’ve let people decide my life for me. Maybe if I knew what happened to her.”

  “Jade, did she have a reason to leave?”

  He jumped to his feet, startling Morgan. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He paced around the room, shaking his clenched hands in the air. “It was all my fault. I ruined everything!”

  “What was your fault?”

  Jade looked at Morgan like he had forgotten she was in the room.

  “Jade, I’m trying to figure out what happened to Carlee. If there’s anything you remember—”

  “Why should you care? You never even met her.”

  “I know Gerda. I know that Carlee’s disappearance tore apart what was left of their family. Gerda has the same hole in her heart as you do.” Morgan raised her hands. “The entire town was damaged. It’s a mystery that needs solving. Maybe finding out what happened to Carlee could bring everyone healing.”

  “I would help you, if I knew anything.”

  He claimed to have ruined everything, and yet he didn’t know anything? Maybe seeing a piece of evidence would shock his memory into gear.

  “I found this.” Morgan pulled one of the larger chips of ammolite out of her handbag. She held it out to Jade. “Did you give Carlee a necklace made with this type of gem?”

  Jade took it from Morgan’s palm. “No. I didn’t give it to her.” He frowned. “But it seems familiar.” He closed his eyes. “I remember her wearing something like this. After we argued.”

  Morgan heard a scuffling sound in the hallway. She was so close to getting answers. She took the ammolite chip from Jade and tucked it in her handbag.

  “Someone’s here to take you to your press conference,” Morgan said.

  A guilty look passed over Jade’s face. “And I’m hiding in the den, talking to a stranger about my ex-girlfriend.”

  “Maybe we can avoid a scene,” Morgan said. “Is there another way out of the room?”

  Jade pulled aside the curtain. The French door was open. Morgan slipped through and nearly stepped on the tail of a tiger-sized gray tabby. That was why the door was open, no doubt. The regal cat required entry and exit from the Cooper mansion at its own convenience. A thick, head-high evergreen hedge surrounded the small tiled patio. Jade dropped the curtain.

  “Hi, kitty.” Morgan bent to pet the silky-furred cat.

  “Camille,” she heard Jade say. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Oh, great.

  “No, I’ll bet not,” Camille said.

  The patio seemed secluded, but anyone could stroll through the wooden gate in the hedge. Morgan lifted a metal café chair and set it near the gap in the door. If someone wandered by, she could claim she was admiring the patio, or petting the cat, or serving as a witness when Camille avenged her sister’s murder.

  “I wasn’t invited,” Camille continued. “I imagine it would embarrass the high and mighty Coopers for the sister of your dead fiancée to show her face on your special day. But you know what? I don’t care what they think.”

  “You’re always welcome in my house,” Jade said.

  “This isn’t your house,” Camille said. “It’s not even Mia and Chase’s. What kind of game are you playing?”

  He ignored her question. “I heard you came back for a memorial service.”

  “The one you won’t attend?”

  “I want to,” Jade said. “More than anything. But it would hurt Mia.”

  “Don’t you need closure? Or, oh, I get it. You don’t feel any guilt. You just walked away unscathed. Unlike the rest of us.”

  Morgan’s heart beat faster. She was going to hear the solution to the mystery, if no one caught her eavesdropping.

  Hurry, Morgan thought. Spill the beans, or the ammolite.

  “Of course I feel guilty,” Jade said. “The last time I saw Carlee, we argued. If I could take that back—”

  “You killed my sister, Jade.”

  Morgan held back a gasp. The gray cat wove between Morgan’s legs and the chair’s ornate metal legs, unconcerned about the human drama taking place in the den.

  “You’re as much to blame as me, Camille. You didn’t have to tell her. You could have kept quiet. We’re both guilty.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Don’t give me that. You didn’t even come home to help search for her. Sometimes I wonder . . .”

  “You know how Golden Springs is.” Camille’s voice trembled with emotion. “The gossip. The judgmental old biddies just waiting for a person to mess up. I was nineteen and pregnant. There was no coming home.”

  The timeline clicked into place. Gayle’s age. Her hair, as thick and golden as Jade’s. Camille’s exit from town right before her sister vanished.

  “But I thought—I was told . . .” Jade’s words tumbled into silence.

  “You thought what?”

  Morgan heard the creaking of the sofa, and imagined Jade sitting.

  “So there was a baby.”

  “Is,” Camille said. “My daughter. Gayle.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me she’s my kid.” Jade’s voice sounded hollow, like there was no strength behind the words. “Did Carlee know?”

  “No. After the way she reacted to hearing that we’d slept together, well, telling her you got me pregnant would have killed her.” When Camille spoke again, she sounded drained, too. “I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

  “Someone’s here,” Jade said.

  The door to the den must have opened, because Morgan heard Mia’s voice.

  “Jade, they’re ready for you.”

  A terrible moment of silence was shattered when the door to the den slammed, rattling the glass in the French doors. The cat jumped, then scampered away through the hedge.

  “What’s going on here?” Mia shouted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just saying hello to my old friends,” Camille said.

  “You don’t have any friends here,” Mia said, her voice a low growl. “You are not welcome here.”

  “Don’t worry, Mia. My business is done.”

  “Then I’ll see you out,” Mia said.

  “I have to get my children.” She let the word hang there, perhaps to torture Jade, then added, “I’ll let myself out.”

  “No, I insist,” Mia said.

  Morgan heard the sound of scuffling.

  “Get your hands off me,” Camille said.

  “Ladies,” Jade said. “There’s no need—”

  “Shut up, Jade,” Mia said. “You’re only making things worse. Like you always do.”

  “I’m leaving,” Camille said. “Don’t worry. I won’t upset your pathetic little plans to take over this rat-hole of a town.”

  After a pause, Mia spoke. “God, Jade, what were you thinking, letting her in here? And right before your press conference. Here, use my eyedrops.”

  “I can’t do this,” Jade said.

  “Leave it to a Kruger to destroy anything good,” Mia said. “Those people all need to die.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  * * *

  Morgan slipped through the hedge gate and hurried around the house, emerging at the side of the deck. Kurt wore an insincere smile nearly matching the one on Harlan Cooper’s weathered, sagging face. Cooper entertained the press corps with booze and tall tales while Marlene related anecdotes about an exotic vacation with the enthusiasm of a sleepwalker to the knot of people surrounding her.

  Morgan climbed onto the deck where she had a decent view of the garden. She could see Camille weaving her way around raised beds thick with flowers, locating Farley outside the food tent. Mother and son scanned t
he garden, looking for Gayle. Even from her perch, Morgan could not spot the girl with the golden hair. She turned toward the kitchen entrance, thinking perhaps Gayle had sneaked inside the mansion. A sturdy woman in a white chef’s jacket stood guard, her arms crossed over her chest and a frown creasing her face.

  “May I help you?” the cook growled, in a tone that implied she had no intention of assisting Morgan.

  “I must be lost,” Morgan said. “This house is so huge. Which way is the bathroom?”

  The cook pointed wordlessly to a bathroom trailer.

  Morgan headed for the greenhouse instead. She skirted the edges of the party, which was growing a tad restless over the delay of the main event. The tempered glass greenhouse door creaked as Morgan slipped inside. Humid, earth-scented air washed over her. Morgan stepped as silently as she could on the pea gravel walkway.

  The greenhouse contained plants selected for beauty, not utility. Artful arrangements of ceramic pots spilling over with flowers surrounded tiny round café tables and wrought iron chairs. Fountains filled the air with the soothing sound of splashing water. Artwork, metal sculptures, ceramic frogs and fairies filled every empty space.

  A plastic cup of red punch, melting ice cubes floating like tiny icebergs, rested on a table. Morgan followed the sound of voices muffled by the foliage. She stopped abruptly and ducked behind a lime tree.

  “These began as a mistake,” Chase said. “I had the heat too high.”

  Gayle stood beside him, admiring glass icicles that looked cold blue, and yet would never melt in the heat of the greenhouse. They hung from a metal pole with tree-like branches, each bearing two or more icicles.

  “When I began to throw the first pieces out, Mia asked me for them. Said there was a market for twisty strands of glass. Mia’s always finding a market for something.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t throw them out,” Gayle said. “I think they’re beautiful.”

  The teen smiled at Chase, then reached out to touch an icicle. Gayle seemed oblivious to the effect she had on Chase. Morgan watched, a queasy feeling in her stomach, as Chase’s eyes roved over Gayle’s young body, barely concealed in the tank top and skintight jeans.