Utah: A Lucy Ripken Mystery (The Lucy Ripken Mysteries Book 7)

by J. J. Henderson

  "That's fine," Lucy said, leading the way into the guest room: neatly made-up sofa bed on one wall, two desks at right angles in a corner, stacks of catalogues for Robin's architectural business. "How's work going, Rob?"

  "It's been better. I'm doing this little office renovation on Capitol Hill, and I got a couple of feelers out for residential projects, but...for a woman alone in this biz it's tough. The old boy networks are tight in this town, people don't think women can do architecture, I don't know, I..."

  "I hear you," Lucy said. "I've taken a ton of shit on photo shoots from amateur bozos who see a woman with a camera and immediately think she needs instruction."

  "Hey, it isn't that bad," said Dan.

  "Yes it is," Lucy and Robin said in loud harmony, and then laughed. "Actually, it's worse," Robin added.

  "So what do you think of Seattle so far?" Dan said to Ellen, who had stopped at the picture window.

  "It's pretty," she said. "Nice to see the water."

  "Yeah, it's a nice burg. Right, Claud?" Lucy said to the dog, who grinned, panting from his run down the street. "Dog likes it OK so far." She went over and stood by Ellen. "How you doin', kid?" she said. "You want to sit down, take a break, and talk? I can ask them to..."

  "No, that's OK," Ellen said. "I was just thinking about...my Dad, and..." she said haltingly. "When you asked them about the DVD player I was just remembering is all."

  "I'm sorry, honey, I kind of...feel like I need to...you don't have to, you know, watch it if you don't want to..."

  "No, it's not that...I guess I should see what I did. I mean..." Robin and Dan stood by awkwardly. Robin pointed at herself, Dan, the door, and raised her eyebrows.

  "Bet your dog needs a walk," Robin said. "Me and Dan'll take him. OK Dan the Man? Let's go, pup," she said, heading out. Dan followed, and Claud ran after them. "In our bedroom," Robin called out from the top of the stairs.

  For a moment Lucy and Ellen watched the water, and the red sun hanging over the silhouetted mountains. "It is pretty here, isn't it?" said Lucy.

  "Yeah," Ellen said abruptly. "So you want to see it now, Lucy?"

  "Yes, I think I do. But like I said you don't have to..."

  "No, that's all right," Ellen said. "Let's...I don't even know if it worked—the camcorder I mean—so I better...I'll get it," she added resolutely, and headed for the guestroom.

  "I'll turn on the machines," Lucy said, and went into the master bedroom. White walls, pale, pickled wood floor, a big bed with no headboard covered with a white duvet, tall, thin, arching Italian lamps on each side flanked by tiny white tables, and a single shelf for the tv and vcr on the opposite wall. One large window facing west towards the mountains. Lucy found the remote and turned everything on, then sat on the bed with the commercials muted. Ellen came in and stuck the disk in the machine. The screen went blank, then started up. Lucy turned off the mute. Ellen sat by her on the bed.

  The sound and picture jittered at first, with the POV shifting as the person behind the camera and tripod moved it around to get it centered on the bed across the room. The single bed rested in the corner; on the walls above it were posters, of horses, rock stars, actors. Lucy knew none of them. A pale brown bear and a stuffed tiger crouched on the bed. The color was murky, with just a bedside light illuminating the scene, but the pink walls matched the pink comforter, and it all looked very cosy. After a few bumpy seconds the image stabilized with the bed in the center. Then stillness, the empty, neatly-made bed, silence. Lucy noticed on the dresser to the right the green backpack, opened. Behind the pack a digital clock. Ellen, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, walked into the picture, laid down atop the bed, and stared at the camera. Her face looked shattered, as if in preparing for what would come she already suffered the consequences. Or maybe she looked this way every night she knew Daddy would be visiting. She stared at the camera, her eyes unblinking and terrified. Then she walked out of the frame.

  The image jumped briefly, stopping and starting up again with the empty bed in the center. Ellen entered the frame and climbed into bed wearing pale pink pajamas. Her hair was brushed out, long and loose. She wore no make-up. The light remained on. The pack lay on the dresser but it had been packed more thoroughly and moved. Under the covers she waited, looked at the camera then away, and visible in profile she closed her eyes. At the sound of a door opening she opened them, glanced directly at the camera, and mouthed silently, "I'm sorry." Then she looked towards the door, and spoke in a voice so small Lucy could barely hear it. "Hi, Daddy," she said, and smiled the sickest smile Lucy had ever seen on a child's face.

  Lucy heard his steps and then he walked into the frame on an angle from the left with his back to the camera so she couldn't see his face. He wore blue striped pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His dark hair was neat. A small man, he moved deliberately. He stopped by the bed, blocking the view of Ellen lying there. He stood still for a few seconds, looking down, then murmured something not quite audible. Ellen turned the comforter down, making room for him. As he climbed in next to her she glanced at the camera. Her face was blank. He faced her, back to the camera. For a few moments he did things underneath the blanket with his hands. Then he stopped and turned partially onto his back. Lucy could see that he was urging her under the blankets, pushing down on her shoulders. She went down there. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Lucy put her arm around Ellen's shoulders, but she shook it off. Arthur Longford laid there getting blown by his daughter. But you're adopted honey, so it's OK. He commanded softly, "Stop now," and she did. As she emerged he turned again, his back to the camera. She was obscured by him. He took his t-shirt off. He was white, slack, with a farmer's tan. He raised himself up as she laid on her back, and he rolled over on top of her. The blanket slipped down, Lucy could see his white ass now as he moved lower in order to come up and penetrate her. As he made this move Ellen's right hand blindly reached out and down, searching for the knife in the crack between mattress and box spring. Then something clicked unexpectedly and he looked towards the closet. His eyes landed on the video recorder. His face went dark with shock and rage. He leaped up off of her just as she found the knife with her hand; and as he lunged across the room towards the camera, his bouncing erection in plain sight, his pajamas around his knees, she rose up naked behind him lifting the knife and drove it into his back, and then pulled it out quickly and drove it in again, and then again as he crumpled to the floor, blood flowing freely. She put a hand to her mouth, looked aghast at the camera, and dropped the knife. There was blood on her body.

  Then she went calm as her plan kicked in, numbing her with purpose. Moving fast now she crouched down, turned him around, and dragged him by the arms next to the bed. Then she laid on her back braced with her elbows, and using her feet shoved him under the bed. She got up, took her pajamas out from under the covers, quickly but methodically made the bed with the comforter hanging down to the floor, then picked up the knife and walked out of the frame. The room was suddenly, oddly, empty, normal-looking but for a large, dark spot on the carpet. Ellen reappeared with her clothes on, made-up, hair combed. She had the knife rolled up in the white towel. She went to the green back pack and shoved the towel in. She came towards the camera, blotting out the light and picture with her body. The tape went blank. Lucy turned off the machinery. They sat for a few seconds, side by side, without speaking.

  Lucy broke the silence. "So he saw the camera."

  "I didn't know if I could do it until then," Ellen said. "I mean, I planned to, but I didn't know...but when he...I knew he would beat the hell out of me and God knows what else he would have done if he had..."

  "You had your reasons, Ellen. This was justifiable homicide if there is such a thing. I know that much. Legally I don't have a clue, but...but morally...my God..." Lucy hugged her, and then burst into tears. "You poor child, you poor, poor baby," she said, holding her.

  Ellen did not cry. “So what do we...I...do now?"

  "I don't know yet, h
oney," Lucy said. "I...we'll figure it out."

  "Hey Luce," Robin said from the other room. "Your dog's great! What a character." She knocked softly. "Can I come in?"

  Wiping her eyes with a sleeve, Lucy looked at Ellen. She nodded, her arms wrapped rightly around herself. "Yeah, sure," Lucy said, walking over to eject the DVD.

  The door opened. Robin took in the scene. "We ran into this neighbor who's got this old golden retriever he swears hates all other dogs—and he liked Claud."

  "All dogs like Claud," said Lucy. "As do all intelligent people."

  Robin looked a little more closely. "You all right?" she asked Lucy.

  "Yeah, sure. Just..."

  "She told you what I did, didn't she? In the car I mean," Ellen said to Robin. Ellen rocked back and forth, still hugging herself.

  "Um...yeah..."

  "Did she tell you I filmed it all?" Robin shook her head. "We just saw it. That's why Lucy's upset."

  "But what about you, Ellen?" Robin asked. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like...I'm frozen inside. When I was watching myself kill him...kill my Dad...I saw the...there was...Lucy, you saw where, when I had to push him under the bed and get cleaned up and...I had been planning it and then when I did it I just thought it was part of the plan, and if I followed the plan I would be all right. So when I remembered to follow the plan right then after I...after I stabbed him, then I froze up...when I was watching just now I froze up the same way. I have to...have to stay cold that way, otherwise I..." she looked from Lucy to Robin and back, suddenly frantic. "Otherwise I think about it like it really is and...Oh my God, " she wailed. "What am I gonna do? What am I...I didn't mean to...I didn't know what else to do!" she flung herself face first down on the bed, crying and sobbing. "What...why did he have to do that to me? Why me? Why?" Lucy and Robin sat down, one on each side, and tried to comfort her. Dan edged into the room, looking distraught, then went out again. After a few moments her sobs slowed, and then stopped as she slipped off to sleep. Lucy and Robin worked the duvet over her, then got up quietly and left. They went into the kitchen, where Dan had opened a bottle of red wine. They took the wine and glasses out on the deck, and sat in the deepening twilight, with a single votive candle twinkling in a glass holder on the round green table. Dan poured the wine. No one spoke for a moment.

  Lucy sipped her wine. "Damn, that's good," she said.

  "Jesus, Luce," said Robin. "What a way to start life in Seattle."

  Lucy sighed, had another long sip of wine. "No shit. That DVD was...it was beyond the realm of pornography, even. God, I'm exhausted, and I haven't even allowed myself to think about how scared I am. It's all been about her, so far."

  "Maybe you guys have already figured this out, but...what are you planning to do, Lucy?" Dan asked. "I would imagine the police, if not the Federales, are seriously on your tails by now."

  "We haven't figured out shit, Dan," Robin said. "I'm taking them out to Julie's on Bainbridge tomorrow—she's in Vancouver this week—and then..." she looked at Lucy.

  Lucy shrugged. "I can't see any way around it. I've got to get a lawyer. For her and myself. As for you guys, well, if the cops show up you don't know anything except she's a runaway. Just remember that. I don't want you caught up in this nightmare too."

  "Don't worry about us, Lucy," said Dan.

  "Really," said Robin. "We're practiced liars. Speaking of lawyers, you got a call from one in New York last night. I forgot to tell you with all this other stuff going on. Guy named Harshman."

  "Jack Harshman? He called me here?"

  "Yeah. Said it was important. Call ASAP and all that jazz."

  "How'd he get your number, I wonder?"

  "Your mom?"

  "Damn. If she has it, and gave it to him, I wonder if she gave it to Loretta? Or the cops for that matter."

  "I think we would have heard from somebody by now if she did, Lucy," said Robin. "You're always giving your mom less credit than she deserves, Luce."

  "Yeah, well if you'd seen her kissing my erstwhile sister's butt you might feel the same way," Lucy said, and threw back the rest of her wine.

  "Bitter, bitter friend," Robin said. "Listen to yourself."

  Lucy looked at her. "You're right. I'm hard on Mom, and it's not fair. But back to this lawyer. What did he say?"

  "Nothing other than call ASAP it's important."

  "Too late now. In the morning. Meanwhile, how about we crack another bottle of that wine? I believe I'm in need of a mild drunk."

  Lucy woke at six a.m. with a slight hangover. She slipped out of bed without waking Ellen or Claud, went into the kitchen, and made coffee. When it was ready she took a cup out on the deck and called Jack Harshman in New York. It had been six days since last they'd talked, and the world had changed completely. His assistant put her right through.

  "Hey Jack," Lucy said. "What's up?"

  "How was your trip?"

  "Hell on wheels but you know the rules, Jack. At 200 bucks an hour, no chatting, idle or otherwise."

  "All right, all right. So listen, I got a call day before yesterday from a friend of yours named Rosa Luxemburg. She says her friend Derek has climbed up the fire escape and in the window and is now occupying your loft—with your permission. So what the fuck is going on? What happened to Chip Harlan?"

  "Derek's in there?! Jesus Christ. I didn't give him...well...hey, listen. You remember when I called you Saturday? How I told you Meyers had showed up? Chip Harlan was trying to negotiate with Meyers last I saw him. Wasn't in, wasn't going in without das landlordovich's permission. Since I had to go, I took your advice and went. He owes me ten grand I'm never gonna get without...I don't know what's going on, Jack. I better call Rosa and..."

  "Luxemburg tells me this Derek wants to buy the place from you. That he'll make good on the rest of the money if he can establish a legal claim to occupancy. That..."

  "Is it doable? What about Harlan?"

  "Like I told you. It was his responsibility to get in there. He doesn't want to try, then...if you can get your money from Derek, go for it. First thing you gotta do is send me a signed piece of paper that says you have assigned your tenant's rights to him. Get it notarized and Fed Ex it."

  "What about Harlan's money? What about Lascovich and Meyers?"

  "Get Derek to pay back Harlan and pay you the difference. Everybody's happy except Meyers and Lascovich, but fuck them. It's a perfect solution, Lucy."

  "Except that Lascovich will sue me, Derek, Rosa, the mayor, you and your cousin Maury, and probably the pope."

  "I'll kick his butt in court."

  "And it'll cost me."

  "Well...that's life in New York, Lucy. You oughta know that by now."

  "But I don't live in New York anymore. It's life in the world. You wouldn't believe what's going on out here. I'll send you your paper ASAP. And hey, listen, you don't have any law school buddies doing criminal defense work in this part of the world, do you?"

  "In Seattle?"

  "Or Utah."

  "I don't know. Let me think about it. Call me back in a couple days. I won't even ask you what for you already need a west coast lawyer. And get that document to me ASAP, I know Meyers is going to try to get an eviction served and if I have paper from you it'll stop him in his tracks."

  "Check. Talk to you later. Bye." She hung up, pictured Derek holed up in her loft, and had to laugh. She called Rosa, got her machine, said, what the hell is going on, and gave her Robin's number. Robin appeared, coffee in hand, and joined her at the table.

  "So what's up in NYC?"

  "The usual ridiculous complications. God, life is so difficult sometimes."

  "This about your loft situation?"

  "Yeah. If that was the only thing I had to deal with I'd be thrilled. But right now that's just comic relief, know what I mean?"

  "Uh-huh. She sleep through?"

  "Yes, thank God. I think seeing that tape just nailed her. It was...oh hell, Robin..." she felt tears starting in her eyes. "Y
ou don't want to know."

  CHAPTER NINE

  BRAINDEAD ISLAND

  Ellen came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later draped in Lucy's silk bathrobe painted with silver surfers and red roses, her hair wrapped in a towel.

  "Hey kid," Robin said. "What's up?"

  Ellen unwrapped her hair. She'd washed the blonde out, gone back to natural dark brown. "Oh no, Ellen," Lucy said. "You didn't...why did you..."

  "You said you wanted me to! God, Lucy, can't I do anything right?"

  "Hey, take it easy, hon. Sorry, sorry. It's just that...no, it looks wonderful, like I knew it would. It's just that...you know, with that picture in the paper and..."

  "You want me to make it blonde again, Lucy? I can..."

  "No, it's OK. We'll just...put a mustache on you. Tattoo your forehead. I don't know, let's not worry about it. We can't hide out forever, can we?"

  "Next ferry's in thirty-five minutes, girls, better get a move on," said Robin. "I got things to do in town today so I don't want to miss that boat."

  "I'm gonna walk the dog while you get dressed, Ellen," Lucy said. "On the double, OK? Let's go pup," she added, and went out the door and up the stairs to the street. She opened the gate, then drew back, stuck her head out, and peered in both directions. "All clear, Claudster," she said, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Claud dashed down the street. Lucy picked up the newspaper at her feet and opened it walking along. "Holy shit!" she said, on seeing page three. At bottom, that same picture of Ellen from the Portland paper. Next to it, a picture of her! The one off her passport. How had they gotten that? She hated the picture, it didn't look like her, too fat, too old, bad hair, foolish expression, but there it was in the newspaper, and it sure looked like her now. Fat, old, bad-haired, foolish, a suspected felon.

  She skimmed the article. She and Ellen were now undeniably linked. And both wanted in connection with a murder in Utah. Loretta must have done it, gotten on the phone and set the misaligned wheels of justice in motion. "Damn," she said out loud, half to herself and half to her dog, looking back at her from where he crouched fifty feet ahead, doing his business with a worried look on his face. "What in the wide stinking world have I gotten myself in to?" She saw a man in a bathrobe a hundred yards up the block pick up a paper. She pictured herself walking by him just as he opened the newspaper. He'd see the pictures of the wanted murderer women, see one of them walk by, make a citizen's arrest right here on Queen Anne.