Mentally exhausted, and hungry, Jonelle detoured over to the first McDonald’s she saw. Telling herself the calories wouldn’t count so much since she didn’t plan to eat dinner that evening, Jonelle ordered the Big Mac meal with diet soda, paid the drive-through cashier, parked in an empty parking spot and devoured the food. A little worried at the lack of guilt feelings from consuming all that fat and preservatives, Jonelle deposited the meal’s remains in the restaurant lot trash bin, and headed back to work.
In front of the office building that housed her uncle’s agency, she took it as a good omen that someone was pulling out of a spot right in front of the door. Once inside, she walked up the flight of stairs to the second floor, entered through the wooden double doors, and went in search of her uncle Marvin.
“He just left, hon,” Rainey said as Jonelle stood in the reception area. “He had a late appointment and said he was gonna go home from there.” As founder and CEO of the detective agency that bore his name, these days Marvin Shorter was limiting his time in the office. While Jonelle appreciated her uncle taking it easy after thirty years in the business, she missed having him around to get his input.
“That’s okay. Not important. He gonna be in tomorrow?”
Rainey nodded. “Yep. Usual time. Around nine.”
The entire agency was quiet. Two open office doors proved that everyone else had also left. Continuing down the narrow hall toward the back wall, Jonelle took a sharp right and stopped. Directly in front was the door with the large label that read in black marker, “Jonelle Sweet, Agent.” She inhaled twice and entered the miniscule office. She dropped her purse on the client chair and fired up the computer. With fingers flying over the keyboard she filled out a report on everything that happened at Sally’s. Next, she called and set up an appointment for a locksmith to install the deadbolt locks at Sally’s home. Another call to Sally’s bank confirmed the sixty-five dollar yearly cost of a safety deposit box and a fifteen dollar charge for a key. All the bank required was Sally go in person to fill out the necessary paperwork.
The next call Jonelle made assured her that Sally was okay. Jonelle instructed her to be on the lookout for the locksmith the next day. She also advised Sally of the cost of the safety deposit box.
Jonelle refused the woman’s insistence to go alone. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drive you.” No way would Jonelle allow an elderly woman to cart around expensive jewelry. She wouldn’t rest until she knew Sally’s remaining jewels were safe. Once that happened, she would concentrate on finding the missing items.
“Just a suggestion, but how about we get an extra copy of the safety deposit key and keep it with your neighbor? Irene I believe you said was her name.”
Sally agreed.
Still not sure about William’s motives, Jonelle eased into the subject of the son. After all, family was family. “Up to you, but let’s wait until later to tell William about the safety deposit box. You might want to make sure it’s a good idea and it’s working for you first.” Relieved that Sally consented without argument, Jonelle didn’t want to disclose she considered William as a prime suspect in the thefts, no matter what he told his mother.
With the safety deposit box and the matter of the locks taken care of, Jonelle decided to wait a while to broach the subject of asking about the daughter. If possible she’d try and contact her to get her impression of her mother’s state of mind.
William. Jonelle needed to talk to him. His home and work telephone numbers were listed on Sally’s client questionnaire as her next of kin. She called the two numbers and felt relieved when each call went into voicemail. She left messages at both places, stating she believed the jewelry was gone and not misplaced and asked him to call to set up a time when they could get together.
Jonelle went online to check out the address of the restaurant where Marcella Abbott wanted to meet to discuss the missing LucieBlu Bonderant. She had just finished when her office phone rang.
After a quick glance at the wall clock, she contemplated not answering. Still, if it was William, she’d rather just get it over with now instead of later. A quick, “Hello, Shorter Investigative Services!” and just her luck, William Piedmont’s voice came through on the other end.
“Thanks for calling me back, William,” Jonelle said through clenched teeth. “I’d like to set up a time when we can meet to go over some questions I have about your mother’s case.”
“’Case’ huh,” he said. Jonelle felt his disgust through the line. “So, you people are taking her seriously? Fine. Sooner we get this nonsense over with the better.” Jonelle’s hopes of going home evaporated as William advised the only time available for a meeting was when he got off work that evening. “I got an hour to kill before the wife starts wondering where I am.”
William gave Jonelle directions to the tree service company where he worked and remarked they would walk over to a little Italian carryout. “They got a few tables and chairs,” he said. “We can sit there.”
After disconnecting, Jonelle cursed herself for not putting the man off until later. She had to hurry if she was to meet him in thirty minutes. Grabbing her bag, Jonelle rushed to the reception area and advised Rainey where she’d be and bid the receptionist good night.
Jonelle slid behind the wheel of the Jeep and pulled out into rush hour traffic. Shorter Investigative Services was only two miles from I-95. Taking the on ramp, Jonelle merged onto the north-bound lane. From there, she took the Baltimore Beltway east toward Key Bridge, and after three miles exited at 173, Hawkins Point Road. She took the first left, then the second right, and after a half mile, the Walter and Sons Tree Service green and white sign appeared. As soon as she pulled into the small employee parking lot in front, she saw William Piedmont leaving the building through wide glass doors.
Jonelle waved to get his attention. He stopped and waited for her to catch up. As she opened her mouth to speak, he rushed in with, “Place is down here,” and strode away. Lips pressed together to keep her emotions under control, Jonelle followed without comment.
They entered the bistro, overwarm and with the smell of fresh-baked dough and spices permeating the air. Noticing the menu board overhead, Jonelle eyed the description of the flat bread veggie pizza and wished she hadn’t eaten the Big Mac. She ordered a glass of lemonade. William decided on the medium “New York-style” pepperoni pizza and large Coke. They sat down at a small wooden table. Jonelle waited until William had sprinkled parmesan cheese and hot pepper flakes on his pie before speaking.
“Okay. Let’s clear the air. What is your problem? I don’t know you, you don’t know me. What, in the distant past did I cut you off in traffic or something?”
William blinked, mouth clamped shut.
Fine, she’d wait out the skinny bastard. After drinking some lemonade, Jonelle sat back in her chair, arms crossed. She stared unblinking as he ate his pizza. After about a minute or two he opened his mouth to say something and was seized by a coughing fit.
Almost moving in slow motion, Jonelle removed her phone. She waved it at him. “Need me to call 9-1-1?”
He gasped and shook his head. Water streamed out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
One of the cooks dashed from behind the counter and hastened over with a glass of water. William gulped it down until the glass was empty.
“Feeling better now?” the waiter asked.
William nodded his thanks.
“Pity,” Jonelle muttered.
“What didya say?” he managed.
“What I’m saying is, are you ready to act like an adult now?” She drank more lemonade.
William cleared his throat several times. A softening around the mouth was the only sign that some of the belligerence displayed earlier had waned. “This is a waste of time,” he croaked. “Nothing’s missing in that house. She prob’ly just forgot where she hid the stuff. That’s all.”
“I did a cursory search of the house, and I didn’t find the missing jewelry. S
ally said the pin and necklace were always kept in her jewelry box. I checked the box and didn’t find the items.”
William’s eyes narrowed. “You looked through my mother’s things? You touched her stuff and went through the house? You did all that?”
Jonelle glared at the sour little man sitting across from her. She suddenly realized what his problem was. It was like opening a box where the contents were known but there was still a faint hope for something different inside.
“Ah. Now I get it. Number one,” she said, ticking each point off with her fingers, “I’ve been hired and paid to do a job, and I intend to do it, with or without your help. Though it might take less time and be easier for your mom if you cooperated. Two, and this is important.” Jonelle paused. She reached over and removed several paper napkins from the dispenser. Folding them over, she wet them slightly with the remaining ice melt left in her glass. She rubbed the paper over her forearm and showed the result to William. “See? The color’s not gonna come off. That’s a reality, so get over it. And—you might wanna make a special note of this point—I don’t give a damn what your problems are with me. This is about helping your mother and putting her mind at ease.”
William stared at her, mouth slightly open.
“Okay. That’s it. I’m through with you.” Jonelle tossed the wad of paper down on the table and stood to leave.
“Sit down,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“I said, sit down. Just ask your questions. I gotta git home.”
Aware that the atmosphere in the room had changed, Jonelle glanced over at the takeout counter. Two employees leaned over the worktop, eyes glued to Jonelle’s table. Three customers stared at the scene playing out before them. Once they registered the look on Jonelle’s face, the employees went back to their duties while the customers grabbed their carryout bags and left in a hurry.
Jonelle sat back down.
“How did your father die?”
“Is that relevant?”
Jonelle sighed. Make this hard why don’t you? “Everything I ask is relevant or I wouldn’t ask in the first place. So, how did he die?”
“He smoked two packs a day ever since I can remember. His lungs were blacker than… ” He sneered at her. “You know.”
With enormous strength of will, she ignored his last comment. “Okay, so I’m gonna note he died of cancer. Did your parents get along? Any family problems?”
William shrugged. “They got along okay. They fought sometimes over money, but who doesn’t? The old guy was tight. Except when it came to their anniversary. For some reason we could never figure out, he always bought my mom expensive jewelry each decade. You know, ten, twenty, thirty years, like that.”
“Forget for a minute the implausibility of a deceased person being a thief. Why does she think Percy took her jewelry?”
“Maybe she thinks Dad wants back what he gave her. He could be vindictive sometimes. He’d punish her by giving her money to buy something for herself, or us, then if she made him mad, he’d make her take the stuff back.” He stopped and stared at the ceiling. “Listen to me. Here I am, believing that crap about the jewelry. Woman’s bonkers. I already told you that.”
Jonelle left the issue with Percy for the time being. “Tell me about your sister.”
William sat back in his chair as if someone had shoved him in the chest. “Why do you need to know about her?”
“Just for background. Your mom seemed a bit upset when I mentioned it earlier.” Jonelle removed a pen and small spiral-bound notebook from her purse. “What’s your sister’s full name and address?” Jonelle held the pen in the air, waiting for William’s response. When none came, Jonelle asked, “Is there some kind of problem between your sister and your mother?”
William shuddered. “Her name’s Vera. She died.”
“Died? But Sally said, that is, she gave me the impression your sister was still alive. She told me she hadn’t heard from her in a long time.”
William winced. His hand formed a tight fist. “See? Told you the old lady was batty.”
“When did your sister die?”
William gripped his upper arms, fingers digging into pale flesh. “She was fifteen at the time. She woulda been fifty-eight next month. So, forty-three years ago.” His whole body sagged.
Jonelle made a note. She felt a twinge of sadness at the man’s obvious distress after all these years. “Sorry for your loss. Fifteen is very young. Did she die in an accident?”
William shook his head.
“Okay, well I can ask Sally about the details when I see her in the morning.”
“No! Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“They… had problems.” William grabbed the discarded wad of paper and began tearing it into shreds.
“What kind of ‘problems’?”
He frowned, stopped shredding the paper, and picked at the cheese on the remaining few pizza slices. As Jonelle watched, the expression on his face softened.
“Just so you know, the only reason I’m telling you this is that it upsets my mom to talk about Vera. Even now.” He continued picking at his food.
Jonelle waited.
“See, Vera, well, she came out wrong at the hospital.”
“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?”
“You know.” William twirled his index finger next to his temple.
“I see. So she was mentally challenged. There’s no shame in that,” Jonelle said.
William shook his head. “No, no. It wasn’t that. Vera was always angry. Angry from as far back as I can remember. Always did wild stuff. Running away from home. Lying all the time. Getting into fights. Those kinda things.”
“That stuff happens between parents and children. I still don’t see—”
“I mean physical fights,” William interrupted. “Vera used to beat up on my mom.” He looked down at the table. “Even though Vera was a little bitty thing, the fighting got so bad sometimes that dad used to, uh, used to have to… ”
For the first time since she met the man, he looked defeated. She waited for him to finish.
“The only way to stop Vera was to lock her in the closet. At times she got so wild, I had to help him. Mostly it was only for a few hours. Other times it took a whole day for her to calm down.” William looked sideways at Jonelle, not meeting her eyes. The words rushed out of him. “The last time was the worst. That time Vera had grabbed mom by the hair, punched and kicked her and tried to throw her down the stairs. God, I can still hear the screaming.” He put his hands over his ears, and Jonelle imagined him reliving the moment all over again.
She held her breath.
“Dad was at work,” he continued, “but I was downstairs in the kitchen when I heard the fight. I ran upstairs, pulled Vera off, and locked her in the closet, as usual. She pitched a fit, banging on the door, cussin’, threatenin’ to kill us all. After about an hour she quieted down.” William put his hands, palms down, on the table. “We was afraid to let her back out. About six that night, when dad came home, me and mom was in the dining room, ready to eat supper. We told him what happened. He said he’d had enough and was gonna send her off somewhere. He went upstairs to let Vera out of the closet. Next thing, dad is screaming. It felt as if the whole house was shaking.”
William paused. He stared out the carryout’s window. After a few moments, William continued in a voice so low Jonelle leaned forward in her chair to hear. “Vera hanged herself by using one of dad’s belts tied around a metal pole across the closet’s ceiling.” His eyes glazed over. An agonized smile formed on his lips. “She was smart enough to pick one of his cotton ones. Easier to tie, see?” William trembled at the memory. “She’d stacked up some storage boxes to get high enough, and then… ” He shook his head.
“Oh, my God,” Jonelle whispered. “The closet? Is that the closet in your parents’ bedroom?”
William nodded, eyes moist at the memory of his sister’s death. “It was the only closet
that locked.”
CHAPTER 6
After an uneasy night, filled with tossing and turning, and unwelcome images, Jonelle sat at her desk still haunted by the story of what happened to Vera. How could Sally sleep in the same bedroom where that happened? Shaking herself to get rid of William’s words swimming in her head, Jonelle concentrated on her meeting with Marcella Abbott regarding her second case—finding the missing LucieBlu Bonderant.
As a legal secretary in a patent law firm, Marcella indicated she didn’t want to meet at the office. As she explained to Jonelle when she called to confirm the appointment time, no one at the firm knew the extent of her relationship to LucieBlu and she wanted to keep it that way. They’d already had to endure whispers and stares whenever they ate lunch together.
“I’m going to ask Marvin for an increase to the old expense account, if I have to buy my clients lunch,” she grumbled as she took a ticket from the machine and parked her vehicle in the covered lot across from Marcella’s office building. Dressed in a short sleeved A-line, navy blue dress, a skinny red belt and with red leather Mary Janes, Jonelle dashed to the corner and waited for the light to change. She thread her way through the crowd of office workers on their way to lunch, walked two blocks and entered the upscale Chinese restaurant. She spotted Marcella sitting on a stool at the bar, sipping some kind of brown liquid over ice in a short glass.
Jonelle stole a look at her watch. It was only a little past noon and the woman was already drinking the hard stuff.
Marcella turned and waved Jonelle over. “Hope you don’t mind I started without you, but I only get an hour for lunch,” Marcella said. She looked at Jonelle, glass raised. “Mind if I have another?”
“Help yourself,” Jonelle said. She motioned to the server and told him to put Marcella’s drinks and food on her bill. The two women followed the waiter to a linen covered table. Marcella ordered chicken lettuce wraps and hot and sour soup, and the other Scotch, rocks to come when the food arrived. Jonelle ordered Singapore Street Noodles and hot tea. She tried not to show surprise at the amount of liquor the petite woman sitting across from her kicked back.
Gone Missing: A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 2 Page 3