Stone Cold Case

by Catherine Dilts

  “To stir up old emotions and animosities?” Mia asked. “Oh, sure. That’s much better.”

  “Mia, I understand you weren’t around when Carlee disappeared.”

  “Right. So if you imagine I had anything to do with her death, you’re way off base. I wasn’t around to pull the trigger.”

  Morgan’s heart jumped to her throat. She swallowed hard. “Is that how Carlee died? She was shot?”

  “Like the homeless man?” Mia laughed, but it was a bitter sound. She pushed angry words past smiling lips. She was more accomplished at acting than her husband. “If you dare accuse my father of murdering Carlee Kruger, I will sue you for slander. Anyway, I thought the prevailing theory was that she got lost in the woods and died of hypothermia.”

  Mia’s mother waved a hand at her from the front of the tent. Without so much as a goodbye and good riddance, Mia left.

  Morgan kept herself from putting her foot in her mouth again by stuffing it full of petit fours and exotic chocolates. Kurt finally finished, or perhaps he just ran out of interviewees.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “This turned out to be more work than I expected. Are you ready to go?”

  “I’ve done all the damage I could do for one day.”

  As they waited for the valet to bring Kurt’s vintage car, he asked her, “Are you hungry?”

  Morgan felt a little green around the gills from her sugar overload. “I may have nibbled too many gourmet treats to ever be hungry again.”

  “Oh. I was hoping to make up this lost day to you by taking you out.”

  “I’m exhausted, Kurt. But you’re welcome to have dinner with Del at the rock shop. I’m sure he forgot to eat again, and we have leftovers.”

  “Okay. But I still plan to make it up to you at a later date.”

  “Deal.”

  Morgan filled Kurt in on her discovery that Jade was Gayle’s father.

  “I didn’t learn anything nearly that interesting,” Kurt said. “Just that every one in Pine County thinks Harlan Cooper is a sleaze bag, and yet they still plan to vote for his son-in-law.”

  “You were there when Cooper shot Big Foot. You must have more news.”

  “Del will want to hear the story.”

  When they arrived at the rock shop, Del had indeed neglected to warm up any leftovers for himself. He welcomed the chance for a helping of gossip with his meal. Morgan whipped up a batch of biscuits from a box mix to go with the leftover elk stew. She had a small bowl herself, which went a long way to counteracting all the sugar in her system.

  “You seem skeptical of the whole Cooper-is-a-hero scenario,” Del said to Kurt. “You must of seen something, because it sounds like he rescued that girl from Lord knows what.”

  “When Big Foot saw Cooper,” Kurt said, “he started babbling something about doing what Cooper told him to. That was when Cooper pulled out his gun.”

  “So he can talk,” Morgan said. “We were afraid the mountain man was mute, and even if the police caught him, he wouldn’t be able to tell what he knew.”

  “Do you think Cooper was trying to keep the mountain man quiet?” Del asked.

  “Hard to say,” Kurt said. “Cooper is supposed to be a good shot, and he just grazed the guy’s shoulder. I don’t think it was because he was afraid of hitting Gayle. After he pulled the trigger and Big Foot toppled, the rest of us had to tackle Cooper to get his gun.”

  “We aren’t any closer to knowing what happened to Carlee,” Morgan said.

  “Unless the mountain man talks. He’s at the hospital now, but Chief Sharp plans to lock him up when he’s released. Attempted kidnapping. Why don’t you drop your bombshell on Del, Morgan?”

  “Everyone in both families has more than a few loads of dirty laundry. That whole happiest couple in the world scenario is the worst lie of all. Jade Tinsley is Gayle’s father.”

  “Man, oh man.” Del whistled. “That’s a regular soap opera.”

  Morgan nodded. “Jade gets Camille pregnant. Camille leaves town. Carlee vanishes. Then a couple of years later Mia snares Jade. Not to mention Chase being obsessed with Carlee, and being ignored by her. They all had a motivation to kill her.”

  “But there’s no proof Carlee was murdered,” Kurt said. “And neither Camille nor Mia was in town when Carlee vanished.”

  “That’s what they say,” Morgan said.

  “As I understand it,” Del said, “the girl might have just wandered off in the woods and died of exposure.”

  “Just because people are hiding secrets,” Kurt said, “doesn’t mean they’re murderers. Unless I learn something to dispute my assumption, the mountain man is still the most likely candidate if foul play is involved.”

  “Speaking of candidate,” Del said, “how did the shindig go?”

  “Like a finely oiled machine,” Kurt said. “Too smooth. It’s obvious the Cooper family has higher political aspirations, and they’re all pinned on Jade.”

  “City Council today,” Del said, “state representative tomorrow.”

  “I still think you should run, Kurt,” Morgan said. “Jade doesn’t even want the position.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to tangle with the Coopers. Besides, Jade Tinsley is a shoe-in.”

  Kurt gave Morgan a brief peck on the cheek, claiming he had an article to write and photographs to sort through. Morgan thought about the attractive woman he’d lent his coat to, and wondered if she was realizing too late how much she liked Kurt.

  After he left, she remembered her conversation with the president of the gemstone society.

  “I saw Lorina Dimple at the press conference,” Morgan told Del.

  “And why would that be of any interest to me?”

  “She asked me to tell you something.” Morgan paused to get the words right. “She wants you to know you were right. She said you’d know what that was about.”

  “I suppose I might,” Del said. “Not that it changes anything.” He had seemed ready to settle into his chair next to the wood-stove, but now he stood and stretched. “Long day. We can all sleep a little easier. If a killer’s been running loose, he’s in custody now.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Morgan said.

  Thursday Morgan felt jittery, and wished she hadn’t consumed three cups of coffee. She jumped when the phone rang.

  “Hi, Sarah. Is everything okay?”

  “We’re fine, Mom. Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

  Morgan relayed the story of Jade’s press release, and Gayle’s near-kidnapping.

  “Golden Springs sounds like the Wild West,” Sarah said. “That’s not how I remember our summer visits with Uncle Kendall and Aunt Allie. Speaking of which, how did Mrs. Stone-wall’s bake sale go?”

  “Beatrice raised nearly a thousand dollars, and I found five hundred tucked away for a rainy day, which brings us to a grand total of half of what Kendall asked for. Then some anonymous donors kicked in the rest. I wish I knew why he needs to come home so urgently. I’d call the FBI if he’s in real trouble.”

  “That’s federal,” Sarah said. “Uncle Kendall might need the CIA. But I don’t think it can be that bad. Otherwise they couldn’t leave the country on a commercial flight.”

  “Good point,” Morgan said. “I’d better send him the money so they can escape whatever it is they’re running from.”

  After finishing that conversation, Morgan called the number Kendall had given her. A man answered who knew just about as much English as Morgan knew Spanish. She was afraid to give too much information, not knowing exactly what Kendall’s situation was, but she managed to leave Kendall a message. Then she arranged the wire transfer. Would Kendall get the message? Would the money reach him? She had done what he asked. Now she could only wait and worry.

  By late Friday afternoon, Morgan still hadn’t heard from Kendall. She was hovering near the landline shop phone, and had her cell phone in her pocket, when Beatrice called.

  “We’re planning the memorial service,” Beat
rice said. “Gerda doesn’t have any good photos of Carlee.”

  Carlee Kruger had been a beautiful young woman. It seemed odd that Gerda didn’t have the typical class photos of her daughter, and the less typical glamour shots from her beauty pageants.

  “Anna said Kurt has some photos in the files,” Beatrice said. “Can you run by and pick them up after you close the shop? Anna said she’d be working late.”

  Morgan felt another little stab of the green-eyed devil, jealousy. Which was childish. Anna had already made her feelings clear. She wasn’t interested in Kurt. Morgan decided she must be going off-kilter under all the stress.

  “I’ll pick up the photos,” Morgan said.

  She fought the urge to change into something more attractive than the worn Washington Warriors sweatshirt and stained jeans that were just fine for mucking out barn stalls.

  Anna was ready when Morgan walked in the door. The photos sat in a file folder on her neat desk. Trevin had also found the negatives in the basement, a relic from the ancient days of film photography.

  “You missed Kurt,” Anna said to Morgan’s unstated question. “He had to run some papers to the city clerk.”

  When Morgan arrived to make her delivery, cars filled the driveway and crowded the space in front of Beatrice’s house. Parking was at a premium in Golden Springs. Morgan squeezed into a spot down the narrow, steep street, then hiked up the stone steps to Beatrice’s front door.

  Gerda was in a good mood, for Gerda, grousing a little less than usual. Camille was quiet. Gayle sat in a corner, hunched over her pink smart phone that matched the fluorescent pink of her long-sleeved T-shirt, tapping madly on the screen with her thumbs. The scooped neck of her shirt exposed an embarrassing quantity of pale flesh on the slender teen.

  Beatrice held up one of the photos. “My goodness, Gayle looks exactly like Carlee.”

  Gayle seemed oblivious as the ladies studied her. A cascade of blond hair the same color as her aunt’s, except for the purple and orange streaks, partially concealed her face. She finally seemed to feel eyes upon her, and looked up.

  “What?”

  Gerda sat next to her and reached for a hand that Gayle wouldn’t give.

  “You look so much like Carlee, it takes my breath away.”

  “Well, I’m not her, you know.” She shoved her phone in a little pink bag slung over her shoulder and stood. She was halfway to the front door when her mother spoke.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Camille asked.

  “Mr. Cooper invited me to do some glasswork at the gallery.” Gayle shoved her bare feet inside glittering pink open-backed sneakers.

  “You are not going to that gallery,” Camille said.

  “I can if I want to. There’s nothing here for me to do. Besides, that crazy homeless guy is in jail. I’m safe.”

  Gerda’s face flushed deep red, and Morgan took a step back from what promised to be an epic explosion.

  “You are a selfish child,” Gerda said. “You do not understand that your mother fears losing you as she lost her sister.”

  It was Camille’s turn now to reach for Gayle’s hand, but the girl took a stumbling step backward. She grasped the glass doorknob.

  “I don’t know what you have against Chase. He’s just being nice.”

  “You don’t know anything about that family,” Camille said. “I left Golden Springs to keep you safe from all this.”

  “Don’t act so holy to me. There’s nothing special about our family.” She turned on her grandmother, which in Morgan’s opinion was as dangerous as facing off with a pit bull. “Mom told me you were drunk all the time. That’s why she left home. But I can’t see why that made a difference when Chase told me mom was a drunk and a tramp.”

  Camille’s hand snapped toward Gayle like a snake about to strike, but Gerda deflected the intended slap.

  “We will break this curse here and now,” Gerda said, all the old command returning to her voice.

  Beatrice stepped into the fray, speaking to Gayle. “What perfect world is it that you live in, child? A place where no one ever makes mistakes? That place doesn’t exist.”

  “Aunt Carlee left,” Gayle said. “Mom left. And I can leave, too.”

  Gayle jerked the front door open and ran down the stone steps. Camille lost it then, running to the door with a half-growl, half-cry in her throat. Beatrice and Morgan grabbed her arms.

  “Let me go!” Camille wailed. “I have to stop her!”

  “How?” Gerda slumped down on a chair, her face going pale as though the life had drained out. “It’s happening again.” She dropped her face into her hands. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

  “I’ll go after her,” Morgan said. “You wait here in case she calls. Or comes back.”

  Morgan pulled her lilac-colored fleece jacket on over her sweatshirt, checked her purse for the pepper spray, and headed out the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  * * *

  The back streets of Golden Springs followed former walking paths and horse-drawn buggy lanes. It was a twisting, winding labyrinth.

  Morgan lost Gayle when the girl ducked between two houses. By the time Morgan reached the alley, Gayle was nowhere to be seen. Morgan called Kurt to tell him what had happened. Her call went to voice mail. She remembered he was at City Hall, so she left a message, condensed into the briefest of news flashes, then called Bernie.

  “Keep an eye out,” she told Bernie.

  “Do you want me to hold her for you?” Bernie asked.

  “Emotional teenager, probably not,” Morgan said, a little breathless as she walked. “Just call Beatrice’s house if you see her. Let them know which way she’s heading.”

  “I can’t sit tight hoping Gayle wanders by. I need to help.”

  “I’m positive she’s going to Jade’s gallery.” Morgan glimpsed a flash of bright pink going down the stone steps that led from Beatrice’s neighborhood to Main Street. “I see her. Definitely heading to the gallery. Meet me there.”

  Gayle had disappeared again by the time Morgan reached the bottom of the steep steps. Morgan ran up the sidewalk toward the pedestrian mall and Jade’s Aspen Gold Art Gallery. She caught up with Gayle as the teen rattled a gate that blocked foot traffic from cutting behind the gallery.

  “Gayle, stop!”

  The girl squeezed between gate and fence. Morgan had no hope of making it through the narrow gap. She dashed to the front of the gallery in time to see Lynn the salesclerk insert a key into the door’s deadbolt lock.

  “We’re closed,” the young woman said. “Come back tomorrow.” She turned away from the door.

  “Wait!” Morgan yelled. “A girl went around the back of the building. She said she was coming to see Chase. She threatened to run away from home. I have to talk to her.”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” Lynn said.

  Morgan could believe that, the way the clerk kept her nose perpetually stuck in a magazine.

  “If she came to see Chase,” Lynn added, “she might’ve used the back door. His lady friends avoid the front door. In which case it’s nunya, you know?”

  None of your business. Morgan knew.

  “It is my business when the ‘lady friend’ is fifteen.”

  Lynn’s mouth fell open. She began unlocking the door when Mia swept out from behind the back curtain. She said something to the clerk Morgan couldn’t hear, then came to the door. Mia turned the key and dropped it into a tiny black purse. Morgan pushed, but Mia had locked the door.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for Gayle.” Morgan shouted through the pane of thick glass. “She said she was coming to the gallery. Her mother is worried.”

  Lynn hovered at Mia’s elbow. Mia frowned at her.

  “I’ll handle this, Lynn. You can go home.”

  Lynn seemed reluctant to miss out on the drama, but Mia’s scowl must have convinced her to back off. The clerk slowly gathered her purse and magazine from the checkout co
unter. Mia glared at Morgan through the locked glass door.

  “Gayle?” Mia asked. “Is that the little Carlee lookalike?” Mia knew perfectly well who Morgan was talking about. Mia didn’t wait for her answer. “She’s not here.”

  “I saw her go through the gate. Maybe she’s in the back room.”

  “I just came from there,” Mia said. “I’m telling you, Gayle’s not here.”

  “She just got here,” Morgan said. “Maybe you missed seeing her come in. I need to talk to her.”

  Mia spun around on one designer heel. She and Lynn fussed around with the cash register and a vinyl bag, gathering the day’s cash and receipts. When they both vanished behind the curtain, someone must have flicked off the light switch. All but the front window display went dark.

  Morgan clenched both hands into fists and stared into the darkened gallery, infuriated. Chase’s glasswork of purple elephant-head flowers caught her eye. Created from molten glass, they seemed as animated as the living flowers in the Cooper greenhouse. Carlee’s favorite flower. He had a crush on her in high school. And now he had lured Carlee’s lookalike niece into his back-of-the-shop love nest.

  “Morgan, I’m here.” Bernie grabbed a light post with one hand and gasped.

  “Did you run here from the bakery?”

  “It sounded like an emergency.” Bernie pressed her face to the glass, fogging the gallery window with her breath. “Is Gayle in there?”

  “Even if she is, Mia won’t let me in.”

  Morgan walked to the gate, rattled the dry wood, and tugged on the chain. Short of kicking the gate to pieces, there was no getting through.

  “Gayle slipped through here.”

  “Wow, you’d have to be really skinny to squeeze through that.” Bernie took a step back, placed her hands on her generous hips, and looked up. “Hey, someone’s up there.”

  Morgan moved beside Bernie and followed her friend’s gaze. A figure ducked away from the window. Morgan caught a glimpse of long blond hair.

  “That has to be Gayle.” She grabbed the cell phone out of her jacket pocket and punched in Gayle’s number. “No answer.” She sent a text, not expecting a response. “Chase Cooper probably convinced her to ignore her phone.”