Ruby scoots herself out from behind the booth and stands beside me. “I say we take a break. We’ve covered a lot of ground, but there’s still much more to cover. We would be best served tackling it with clear heads. So, let’s stretch our legs and get a little fresh air and reconvene here in about fifteen minutes.”
“Huh uh, no thanks,” says Stax. “I stretched my legs and got loads of fresh air this morning and look what it got me. I think I’ll stick with the moldy old paper particles floating around in my store, where so far nobody has managed to go missing.”
Stax melts into the shadows of her deserted bookstore. Ruby lightly grips my arm, her hand both soft and firm.
“Lacy, I understand how you feel. You don’t just like to help people, you feel you need to. And I want you to appreciate this is what we are doing. Look at it this way—we both know you had nothing to do with whatever happened to Marlene, but the police don’t know that. So, let’s not give them another reason to spend any more time looking at you than they need to. The best way we can help Marlene now is to help the police find her killer. And hopefully to prevent anyone else from being hurt.”
“Do you think someone else will be hurt?”
I’m not ashamed to say I am afraid. Afraid for Marlene and afraid for myself and my friends. But when I look to Ruby and see that grin of hers, so full of fire and surety, I let go of the fear and grab hold of her strength. I can see what she is thinking even before she says it.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
I join Ruby for a short walk around the block. The mid-day sun beats down on us with all its summer force and I find invigoration in the warmth. The sight of all the people out enjoying a normal day helps me forget, albeit for only a moment, that my day is anything but normal.
When we again take our spots at the booth, our cups refilled with soda from Larry’s fountain, we pick up where we left off in discussing what might have befallen Marlene this morning.
No metaphorical stone is left unturned. Stax suggests that perhaps it is all a cruel put-on by Marlene who stashed a disguise in the trees the night before and slipped out unrecognized to escape in a waiting rental car. Theoretically, it’s a feasible theory, but Ruby points out it lacks the crucial element of plausibility—if she wanted to disappear, why not slip out in the middle of the night? And why not take her own purse?
We also agree that even if a man with a gun likewise stashed a disguise and forced her into it, they would be highly conspicuous walking out together as a couple without participating in the run. And Marlene is not so meek as to allow herself to be taken captive without risking at least a scream.
We were getting into Twilight Zone territory with our theorizing and had to admit to ourselves we don’t have enough information to determine what happened to Marlene, other than at some point during her run she miraculously ‘ceased to appear’, as Ruby prefers it. Our major breakthrough is concluding Marlene could not have left Chicken Hill. Whatever happened must have happened under the noses of a hundred runners and three police officers and yet generated not a single known witness.
“So, we’re done with the ‘What’,” I say. “Do we dare attempt to try and figure out how Marlene was subdued and hidden in plain sight?”
“Yeah, Oh Mystic Eye of Mystery,” Stax says playfully to Ruby, “please enlighten us.”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea of how this was done, ladies. If we knew that, we would likely know who killed her. But I believe I can tell you what kind of creature we’re up against.”
As we push forward over the table to listen I glance across the brightly lit café to the darkened bookstore beyond and imagine I see the shadows move.
“I dare say we’re up against that rarest and most challenging of puzzles—the Howdunit.”
“I’ve heard of ‘whodunit,” observes Stax, “but…”
“Whodunits are commonplace. Some are trickier than others, but usually it’s a simple matter of following the evidence back to the culprit. The Howdunit, however, is a far more unpredictable animal. You see, when investigating a Whodunit, you learn to trust the evidence and your instincts about what the evidence tells you. That’s how you catch your man. But when you find yourself up against a Howdunit, the evidence will lie to you and lead you down dead-end alleys. Or, even worse.”
Stax leans in, peering over her frames. “Worse? How worse?”
“It’s hard to say as so much depends on what the villain is trying to accomplish. But one must go to great lengths to orchestrate an impossible murder, and for that, they must have a good reason. Most often, that reason is to conceal their own culpability. Sometimes, it’s also to manufacture evidence against someone else.”
My head hits the table. “Oh my, and all this right after Marlene and I had a fight. Do you think I’m being fit up for this?”
Ruby places her elbows on the table and folds her fingers together. If you entered the room at this moment you might think she’s leading us in prayer.
“Hmmm, I don’t think so, Lacy. Whatever happened must have been in the planning for some time. It’s impossible to say who, if anybody, the killer is planning to frame. It might be he—or she—is hoping to create a mystery that’s impossible to solve. If it can’t be solved, they can’t be implicated.”
“So, here’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” Stax says with a mouthful of ice. “How do we solve a crime that’s impossible to solve?”
“By reminding ourselves that nothing is impossible and no crime is perfect.”
“That we can do,” I say. “What else?”
“We’ll need to start gathering some information. And we must do it quickly because we can’t be sure what might happen after the police get involved. Any ideas?’
“I say we talk to everyone who was there, see if their stories match up,” offers Stax.
“My apologies, I should have specified good ideas. Do you ladies have any good ideas?”
“What! Hey, what’s wrong with my idea?”
I clear my throat and answer, in my most measured tone. “Stax, darling bestie of mine, there’s only three of us. We have maybe twenty-four hours. And there were over a hundred people on the trail this morning. How are we supposed to talk to all of them at once?”
“I don’t know, Skype? And watch who you call ‘bestie’. Do you have any bright ideas?”
As a matter of fact. “I do have one. If we can get the bib times from Marti we might see something that stands out.”
“That sounds promising,” Ruby replies. “Such as what?”
“For starters, we could see each runner’s finish time. Pretty much everyone there today are people I’ve seen at other runs. My thought is we could compare their finish times today with their average times across numerous runs, all of which are available on the Internet. That way, we can see if somebody took longer than usual to finish the run. Whoever hurt Marlene must have lost some time doing it.”
Ruby purses her lips and makes a ‘hmmm’ sound. “Anything else?”
Isn’t that good enough?
“Well, I don’t know, that’s what came to mind.”
“I know!” shouted Stax, jumping off her seat like a spring popped under her.
Ruby and I wait for the punchline.
“You see, the way I figure it is this,” begins Stax, one eye cocked over her black frames. “Marlene is one of the faster runners, right? At least out of our store. Forget about those guys who run like The Flash, because they don’t count. But we know Marlene was towards the front of the pack until whatever happened to her happened, up there with Gretchen and Carly and those other chicks with windmills for legs. So, if anybody witnessed anything, it would be one—or more!—of the first ten or so people who finished.”
Stax leans back in her seat and waits for a reaction. As for me, I think it makes perfect sense. Stax effectively took a list of over a hundred names and shortened it to ten or less.
“Bloody brilliant, Stax!” effus
es Ruby with far more enthusiasm than my original idea apparently afforded.
“Brilliant, ey? Maybe I’m the Sherlock and you’re the Watson, Ruby.”
“What does that make me?” I ask.
“Mrs. Hudson. Speaking of which, my cup is empty.”
Ruby tsk-tsk’d. “Now, now, you two. It’s not play time yet.”
I’m reminded of elementary school when I’d been caught cutting up and tried to play innocent. I wipe the smile from my face and give Ruby my rapt attention.
“I’m going to call Marti and see if I can get that list today. You two are more familiar to her, but I want your names to pop up as few times as possible in the police inquiry. We won’t know how Marlene was murdered until her body is discovered, but this information might prove invaluable by the time this is over.”
“You really think it’ll point us towards a witness?” asks Stax.
“It might at that, it might at that. But there’s something else I’m hoping to see at the front of the list.”
Stax and I crowd around the little old lady. The gleam in her eye makes me wish I were already poring over those names and times.
“My brave fellow adventurers,” Ruby says in measured beats, followed by the most pregnant of pauses. “I expect in this list of ten we’ll find the name of Marlene’s murderer.”
TEN
“Just send the Hobbses in when they get here, Lacy. I’ll be ready for them. Can I get you any tea while I’m up?”
Caroline has been waiting on me all day like a mother home from work with her sick child. Only she isn’t my mother. And we are at work.
“No thanks, Caroline. I’m well-hydrated.”
I smile and tap my giant sixty-four-ounce cup of water. Her mind at ease, she disappears into her office to await our next clients.
Caroline and Bill Lefferty own their own independent insurance agency in a sleepy turning off Main Street. They were a Godsend when I arrived in Cedar Mill with no job prospects and a dwindling savings account. It was a quirk of timing that brought us together, as their previous administrative assistant got married and then pregnant and decided to head off for greener pastures behind a white picket fence. As I am on the opposite end of the marital spectrum and already well-versed in the duties of running an insurance office, it was a perfect match.
You can’t pick your parents but you can pick your employers and I don’t think I could have picked a happier, more stable couple to work for than the Leffertys. Married forty years and still in their honeymoon throes, I envy their chemistry. Curtis and I would justify our fighting by blaming it on the business we shared and the amount of time we had to spend together crunching numbers, going over files, and balancing budgets. But the Leffertys thrive off the shared time and responsibilities to the extent that whenever Bill has to be out of the office, Caroline becomes progressively more fidgety.
Today is one of those days. Bill is running some in-home appointments in a neighboring town and won’t be back until after lunch. Caroline heard that a runner went missing during the Chicken Hill run and has been treating me like a trauma victim all morning, concluding on her own that it could just as well have been me as Marlene. Explaining that I saw nothing and had not myself experienced any wrongdoing calms her only slightly.
I would have accepted the offer of tea except the Leffertys only brew decaf. But I’d had two sleepless nights in a row and am starting to feel its effects. I scrounge in my pen drawer for an abandoned packet of LIT (my pre-run energy drink of choice, now good for any time of day) when the phone rings.
It’s Stax.
“Why didn’t you call my cell?” I ask. She never calls the office line.
“Ruby thinks it’s smarter if we minimize contact. You know, if the cops start digging.”
“They’ll still figure out you were calling me when they see this number.”
“No plan is perfect. Anyway, it’s time you get the heck out of there.”
“Excuse me?”
“Skip school, play hooky, puke on your desk and take a sick day. Just try to get out early.”
“What’s going on?”
“There have been developments.”
“Developments? Who do you think we are, Scotland Yard?”
“Marti called Anderson Petrick this morning about Marlene. He’s refusing to file a missing person’s report on her, so Marti’s headed over to the police station now to do it herself. That means our clock is ticking.”
Yes, I’d say that is a development. It’s only a matter of time before the cops come calling, and when they do, I’d prefer it not be at the agency. The Leffertys are good people and I don’t want their name mixed up in this.
“Okay, I can’t leave now. Bill should be here in a while and then I’m sure they’ll let me take off. So, you talked to Marti? What did she say about us getting the finishing times?”
“Ruby’s the one who talked to her. Marti was so mad about Anderson that she agreed to e-mail Ruby all the data.”
“Ruby uses e-mail?”
“That’s what I said. Ruby told me ‘I’m old, I’m not a Neanderthal.’ You know, I’m really beginning to like that chick.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s running my store.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I’ve been pulling data all morning. I’m pretty good at spreadsheets so I agreed to compile the finish times from all the runs around here the past six months. Once they’re all on the sheet I can make it populate an average pace time for each runner.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is if you’re computer illiterate. But I’m not, so—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you need me for then?”
“Gumshoeing. I should be done with this spreadsheet by noon and I plan to do some digging around town. You know, find out about Marlene’s nightlife. Four gummy shoes are better than two, ergo the pukey desk.”
“I’m not going to puke on my desk.”
“Just get to the bookstore ay-sap. So you’re not eating my dust I’ll leave a list of places for you to hit. See Ruby for it. We’re only hitting places that are open after dark, so, this being Cedar Mill, it won’t be a long list.”
I notice a car pull up and park outside my window. I don’t recognize the man and woman in the car and decide they must be the Hobbses, Caroline’s eleven o’clock appointment.
“Hey, I gotta run. I’ll be there after lunch.”
I hang up the receiver and get my smile ready for the Hobbses. I never stand until after the people enter, because in my own mind I look creepy just standing and smiling at someone as they walk into the room.
As I sit waiting for the door to open my mind wanders back to Marlene. I realize that in all the excitement yesterday I forgot to tell Stax and Ruby about my conversation with Hilda the chocolatier. Maybe I didn’t want to remember that she served chocolates and drinks to Chase and Marlene just two days before the run. Stax wants me to dig up dirt on Marlene and I already hold a soiled shovel.
Bill returns to the office shortly after noon and he and Caroline are gracious enough to give me the rest of the day off. I confirm the remainder of their appointments and set out the folders for each prospective client so I don’t have to worry about leaving them in a fix. If anyone will soon be in a fix, it’s me.
I arrive at Read It or Eat It to find Ruby manning the counter, and to all appearances, loving it. A patron asks about a particular series of romance novels and Ruby regales her with tales of having dined with the author some years before. I peek in on the café and find Larry busy with three tables’ worth of hungry diners. The mingling aromas of old books and fresh spices are not as incongruous as one might think.
Once I am able to get a minute alone with Ruby, she informs me that Marti called to let her know that the police are organizing a far more thorough search of Chicken Hill and will immediately begin making inquiries into Marlene’s disappearance. I am relieved by the news but also
feel my pulse quicken. They’re going to find Marlene, and when they do, they’re going to come looking for me.
The best I can do is what I am doing—looking for answers. Ruby fetches the list Stax left for me and I am not at all surprised to see that it is a list of dive bars. You know the kind of place—tucked far back into the bowels of a strip mall long past its prime; small, smoky, everything is brown except the fading green of the lone pool table. To Stax’s credit, the bars are all on the same side of town, from which I surmise our respective lists were compiled based on geography and not best/worst.
Ruby stops me on my way out the door. There is something else Stax wanted her to give me—a photo collage replete with images of Marlene dolled up from her travel agency advertising and her more natural appearance in a visor and singlet from the Run For It website. It makes sense that if I am to be inquiring about her I should be able to communicate who it is I am inquiring about. Good thing Stax and Ruby have their heads screwed on straight because mine feels like it is held on by duct tape and rubber bands.
The inquiries don’t take as long as I expect and are far less fruitful than I’d hoped. Although most of the publicans, bar maids, and patrons went out of their way to look at the photos and offer their condolences, none of them recognized Marlene as having come into their bar. There were glimmers of hope as a few individuals felt certain she looked familiar, but it was her image on the billboard advertising they recalled.
I feel deflated as I turn onto Main Street and head back towards the bookstore. Out of my windows I watch the carefree buzz and motion of my fellow Cedar Mill residents and for the first time I feel separate from them. There is a dark cloud in the sky that only I can see.
I don’t relish the thought of arriving back at Read It or Eat It empty-handed and decide to put off the shaming for a few minutes with a visit to Run For It. There are only a few vehicles in the lot, but one of them is Chase Reynolds’s RAV4. A little sunlight shone through the clouds. I do have one lead to my credit and now is my chance to act on it.
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