Remember Murder

by Linda Ladd

  “Yes, I’ll get Mandy to get them for you. I heard her come in a minute ago. She’ll run copies of anything you need.”

  It was clear to see that they weren’t going to get much else out of her until she came to terms with her friend’s death. Claire stood up and handed Kay one of her cards. “Please call us, if you think of a single thing that might help us find her killer, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Will you do that, Ms. Kramer?”

  She nodded and took the card.

  “Again, we’re very sorry for your loss. If there’s anything we can do to help you, please feel free to contact us.”

  Sobbing again, she got out, “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  Bud and Claire left, both even more depressed than they’d been before. Sometimes being a homicide detective sucked. This was definitely one of those times.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Before they even reached the car, Claire’s cell phone rang. It was Charlie, so she picked up in a hurry. Charlie didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Claire? Miriam Long’s husband just got in from Iraq and paid me a visit about half an hour ago. I had to tell him that his wife was dead, and that was no fuckin’ picnic, let me tell you. He left here about ten minutes ago, said he was going home. I want you and Bud back over there. See what he can tell you. He wasn’t ready to be interviewed when I saw him—shocked out of his mind, in fact, but he probably can talk about it now. Appears to be a good man. Did you get to talk to the partner?”

  “Yes, sir, but she was pretty upset, too. Didn’t help us much.”

  “Well, let’s just hope Captain Long can give us some kind of take on who might’ve done this to his wife.”

  The little yellow house on the lake looked the same except for the dark blue Camry sitting out front. She and Bud got out in the driveway, but when Claire looked down at the lake, she saw a man standing beside the water. He wore a Marine uniform, the formal one with the white belt. He’d taken off his white hat and laid it on a nearby metal chair. He was just standing there, very erect and straight, hands hanging at his sides, staring across the lake at the distant shore.

  “There he is,” Claire told Bud. “His name’s Oliver Long, right? Captain Oliver Long.”

  Bud nodded. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it much.”

  This arm of the lake was extremely crowded at the moment. Lots of boats and pontoon party barges zipped around the choppy waves, leaving creamy white wakes in their paths. This was the kind of day when Black and Claire used to go out in his Cobalt 360 for the afternoon. The water used to feel so cool and silky when they jumped in and swam around the boat. Claire smiled, couldn’t help it.

  “I remembered something just now, Bud. Nothing important or life-shattering but I did remember it. Maybe this nightmare’s almost over.”

  Bud looked quickly at her. “Great, Morgan. What’d you remember? Something about me?”

  “Nope, boating on the lake with Black.”

  “Well, I’m hurt.”

  “No, really, it just came into my mind. I didn’t even try. That’s got to be a good sign, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Bud grinned. “Hey, I’ll be glad when you get it all nailed down. You owe me five bucks for that last pizza I got us, you know.”

  Both of them became dead serious as they started down the backyard. When they were almost upon him, Oliver Long turned and saw them.

  “You guys are the detectives, I take it?”

  Claire held up the badge on the chain hanging around her neck. “That’s right. We’re both homicide detectives at the Canton County Sheriff’s Office. I’m Claire Morgan. This’s Bud Davis.”

  “Did you get the bastard who butchered my wife?”

  Although his voice remained low, almost a growl, his graphic terminology put them on alert. Claire matched his calm tone. “Not yet, but we’re working on it. We hope you can help us get him.”

  “Oh, I can help you, all right. I’m gonna kill that bastard with my bare hands as soon as I find him.”

  “I’m sorry, man,” said Bud, placing his hand on the captain’s back. “I know how you feel right now. From experience. Trust me, it’s like hell on earth.”

  And he did. Claire had seen him in a similar situation when his girlfriend, Brianna, was the victim, and it hadn’t been pretty. It hit her again that yet a second recollection in just the space of a few minutes had come like lightning out of the blue. Reeling with excitement and expectation, she nevertheless told herself to get real. This was not the time to rejoice, not standing alongside a grieving widower. But everything was on the verge of coming back; she felt it in her bones.

  When the two men stared at each other and nodded in silent commiseration, Claire knew she better take the lead on the interview before they turned the investigation into a posse. She motioned to four metal chairs sitting on the dock. “Mind if we sit down and talk to you for a few minutes, Captain Long? We know you just got home from Iraq, just found out about your wife, but it’s important that we know anything that might help find Miriam’s killer.”

  Oliver Long hesitated, looked at her, and then at Bud. Then he just waved his arm toward the chairs. They sat down, but he remained standing, in that terribly rigid military stance. He was a striking man, not particularly tall but impressive. But what man wasn’t damn impressive in a crisp Marine uniform? Claire wondered what he did in the service. He’d been in Iraq and probably now blamed himself for not being home when somebody took a club to his new bride. Oh, God, Miriam Long had been so brutalized. Claire hoped her husband didn’t see her before the mortician worked his magic on her body, if he even could repair her shattered face.

  Oliver Long’s dark eyes were bloodshot and tired and jet-lagged. He looked ready to collapse. He needed to go to bed and get a long night of deep healing sleep. But he probably couldn’t and wouldn’t.

  “Do you have family who could be here with you, captain?”

  “My mom and dad are on their way. Miriam has no family. Just me.”

  “Is there anything we can do to make things easier for you?”

  “Just catch him and make sure he fries in the electric chair.”

  “We will get him.” That was Bud, making promises he might not able to keep. But they usually did catch the bad guys, or at least that’s what she’d been told. She and Harve definitely had in Los Angeles.

  “We won’t stop until we find him,” she told Oliver Long, almost as confidently as Bud.

  “Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear.”

  For the first time, he relaxed, albeit slightly, and sat down across from them, but still holding the ramrod posture of a Marine just home from war. “What do you have so far, detectives?”

  Not much, Claire thought, but she said, “We know that she was last seen that day by her partner, that she was packed and ready to meet you in Rome. Kay Kramer said your wife was going out to check on some of her listings before she caught her flight, just to make sure everything was in order. We don’t know which ones, but we’re going to check them out, one at a time.”

  Bud said, “We should get through most of them today and tomorrow.”

  “Did she ever mention to you that she was going to do that, captain? Visit her listings, I mean.”

  “No. The last time we talked, she”—he stopped there, his voice getting thick, and they waited silently for him to regain control—“No, she just talked about wrapping things up here so we could be together. She’s never been to Italy. We were going to meet in Rome, spend a few days there, and then drive up to Florence.”

  Claire took a deep breath, wanting to give this guy a break, but unable to. “Does she have any enemies that you know about?”

  “Miriam? No way. She’s an angel.” He stopped again, his jaw tightening up. “She was small and delicate. Gentle as a lamb. She wouldn’t hurt anybody or anything. She used to take moths in the house outside in a paper cup so she wouldn’t have to smash them.”<
br />
  That was pretty cool, actually. Claire usually smashed any bug that got in her house. But she hated bugs, all of them, especially spiders. Not a new memory. She’d been killing mosquitoes ever since she woke up. “What about old boyfriends?”

  “She didn’t date much before we met. She was engaged once to a high school sweetheart, but he died in a car wreck just before they went off to college. She didn’t go out much after that, just worked on building up her career, until she met me.”

  “Where did you meet?” Bud asked.

  “She sold me this house when we lived in Springfield. She finally moved up here with me two years ago.”

  Springfield was a city about an hour southwest of the lake. “Did she have enemies in Springfield?”

  “No. She was too nice. Nobody could not like her.”

  His eyes got all wet and wide, and the muscles under his cheek worked as he ground his teeth. Bud and she glanced away as he mastered his emotions. Miriam was really an angel now, but she sounded like a woman the world might’ve needed. The captain sure did.

  Claire gave him a few minutes to regain his composure as she stared out over the lake and wondered what Black was doing. Probably worrying about her.

  “Captain, again, forgive us for bothering you now so soon after your wife’s death. I know this is not easy for you. I just have a few more questions. We noticed that your boat is gone. Did your wife put in it in storage, by any chance?”

  Captain Long glanced at the end of his dock, as if it were the first time he noticed the boat was gone. He verified that in his next remark. “I didn’t know it wasn’t here. I had it checked out and examined before I deployed, so Miriam wouldn’t have any trouble with it. She loves to go out on the lake. Fishing. Waterskiing. All that.” He looked at them quickly. “Do you think it could have been a boating accident? That the damage was done by a motor blade?”

  Claire noticed his present tense, but let him have that much. The blade reference only brought back to her the condition of that poor woman’s face. Charlie must have told him the extent of the injuries. “I don’t think so, sir. First thing we need to do is find your boat. Can you give us its description and license number?”

  “Of course. It’s a fairly new runabout, red and white, sixteen footer. The serial number and sales info is in the house with our other papers.”

  “Good. We’ll put out a BOLO with the water patrol today.”

  They questioned him a bit longer, but with no obvious breakthrough in regard to suspects. But the boat could be the key. If they could find it, it could give them a heads-up on the killer’s identity. Meanwhile, they would keep checking out Miriam’s listings and interview all her clients. With luck, something helpful would eventually rise to the surface. They left Captain Long just sitting there alone on his dock, his eyes on the far shore, and his head full of memories of his dead wife.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Around four o’clock that afternoon, Bud dropped off Claire at her place. Black wasn’t there yet, but her cell phone went into the “Mexican Hat Dance” about ten seconds after she stepped foot on her driveway. Good grief, Bud wasn’t even out of sight. She looked around for a flash of binoculars to see if somebody was tailing her and reporting back to Black. Nope. Jeez. Did he have ESP, or what?

  “So, how’s your day going?” Black asked her. He sounded out of breath, as if he’d been hurrying or that around-the-clock shrinking was more strenuous than people thought.

  “Good. I just got home, and I tell you one thing, this half-day stuff sucks. It’s not fair that Bud has to do my work, too.”

  “I’m sure Bud doesn’t mind. Enjoy it while you can. You’re getting stronger, so you’ll be full-time soon enough. Was the missing person your victim?”

  “Yeah, positive ID. We got a perfect fingerprint off her hairbrush. Miriam Long’s her name. Lives on a lake road near Bagnell Dam. Her realty company’s name is Kramer and Long. Heard of them?”

  “No. The ID ought to make the investigation go easier.”

  “Yeah, Bud’s trying to run down some of her clients this afternoon. Tomorrow, we’re gonna check out locations on her properties. We’re trying to locate her boat that’s missing. Her husband was deployed, but he’s back here now. He’s been notified.”

  “Good God, that poor guy, to have to come home to this. How do you feel, Claire? Your energy still up?”

  “Good. Already bored, now that I’m home with nothing to do.” Claire hesitated, not wanting to sound needy or ridiculous or worst of all, clinging. But truth be told, she was beginning to like having this guy around. And she did remember today that they used to go boating together, one more piece of proof that he was her true honey bun. She went with it. “Are you coming back over here tonight?”

  “Yes, but I’ve got some business to take care of first. A couple of meetings I’ve been putting off for weeks now. Would you want to bring the boat over and stay here tonight? I don’t know how long all this is going to take.”

  She considered what he asked her to do, and that big boat sitting down at her dock did look awfully fast and dangerous. She’d been dying to drive it. “Okay. If you think you can trust me with that fancy Cobalt of yours.”

  “It’s yours, too, remember. Think you can find your way over here?”

  “Since you have that sweet GPS tracking set up on it with Cedar Bend as the destination point, I’d say yes.”

  He laughed softly. “Why don’t you come now? Get some rest here in the penthouse where it’s nice and quiet. Actually, it’s a little too quiet with you and Jules gone.”

  “Not as quiet as it is out here.” She glanced up at the front porch of her very own home and was very pleased with what she saw. “Besides, I want to hang around and sort through my stuff. See if any of it trips my memory back full force.”

  Silence reigned briefly, as if he wasn’t sure that kind of tripping met his super-psychiatrist approval. “Okay. Call me when you start across the lake so I’ll know when to expect you.”

  “C’mon, Black, you’re acting like my puppet master again. I better check my arms to make sure there aren’t any strings attached.”

  Yet another short pause followed. Enough to make Claire feel a tad guilty about the tone she’d used. He was trying to let go of her leash, give her some slack. He’d shown that today. She was out of line.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I do sound that way. Sorry. Can’t help it. I worry about you.”

  Claire’s heart shivered. He was pretty good to her, she had to admit. “Sorry, I snapped at you. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. I just didn’t want to stop working. It’s so good to be back on the job.”

  “Well, don’t overdo it.” Claire heard a voice in the background. It sounded like Miki Tudor, his executive assistant. Always dressed immaculately in expensive yet feminine business suits and wearing strings of real pearls, that girl liked to crack the whip on Black’s obligations. Talk about a marionette manipulator. “Okay, gotta go, babe. I’m swamped here. The next meeting’s getting started.”

  They hung up, and she looked down at her dock, considering a nice long dip in that calm and glass-smooth green water, but then she saw Jules Verne’s little white face peering out the front window. He had to be standing on the hassock near the window, and she could see his tail beating back and forth like crazy. He was giving Claire a thank-God-you-came-home-I’ve-been-waiting-all-day doggie smile. He was just the sweetest little thing. And he never asked her any questions. Or told her what she should do. One thing she knew for sure, Black loved that dog. They were like Timmy and Lassie, for God’s sake. But so did she.

  When Claire poked in the security code and stepped inside, Jules was right there, almost as glad to see her in one piece as Black usually was. He jumped around, like a canine pogo stick, yapping and showing her how much he liked her. Then he sort of just collapsed on the floor as if joyously exhausted. She went to the kitchen and brought him out a moist and meaty dog treat, compliments of Black, an
d in appreciation of Jules Verne’s highly dramatic show of affection. Then she sat down, too, and propped up her feet, tired but feeling pretty good about things, as she observed how she’d chosen to decorate her home before she went into that river and landed in no-man’s-land. She still liked everything she saw, so she guessed her tastes hadn’t changed all that much. She still liked Black, too, but what the hell was there not to like?

  Strange, peculiar, and mind-boggling state of affairs, yes, it certainly was. Her whole life was upended and staying that way, at least for the moment. After a few minutes of sprawling out in complete relaxation, feet up, eyes closed, she rose and moved into the kitchen. She spent some time going through the kitchen cabinets, familiarizing herself with what she had and didn’t have. She looked through the desk drawer for anything even slightly interesting or exciting or mind-opening, but only found some paid electric bills and a supply of extra checkbooks. Nada. Yep, no letter that explained her life in two paragraphs, although that would be peachy keen.

  After a while and at complete loose ends, Claire clicked on the giant television built into the wall and watched the news. On KY3 out of the nearby city of Springfield, they gave a brief thumbnail sketch about the case, just a news flash with a short and terse interview with Sheriff Ramsay. He told them absolutely nothing at all, but in a very politically savvy fashion. And nary a single, solitary cuss word. Not even his favorite and rather odd one: dadgummit.

  There wasn’t much in the fridge, nothing edible, to be exact, so Claire wrote herself a mental note to shop for groceries ASAP. Or maybe she should just take the Explorer out of the garage right now and go get them. She couldn’t remain a watched-like-a-hawk invalid forever, even if her nursemaid looked like a Greek god. Yep, everybody meant well, of course, but if she wanted to be a master of her own destiny, and all that crap, she better get her ducks in a row.

  The extra set of car keys was in a bowl on the counter. She had no clue where the other set was. Probably on the river bottom enjoying a mud bath alongside her driver’s license. She fished the keys out of the bowl and headed for the garage. Her hand was on the doorknob when a knock on the front door startled her big-time. Nerves up and fluttering like newborn robins, she immediately drew out her Glock, as a ridiculous tingle of dread raised goose bumps on both her arms. She hadn’t been alone much since she woke up. And she just found out that she wasn’t as secure of her safety as she’d thought. Nope, the idea of opening that door without knowing who was standing outside did not appeal to her. And she wouldn’t, unless it was Black or Bud or the other handful of people she’d met lately. This amnesia stuff was getting very old, very fast.