Gone in a Flash: A Naked Eye Cozy Mystery

by Leah Burke

  “I’m not sure. A source told me that he was seeing Jessie, though.”

  His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Well, if he was, I never heard her mention it. That isn’t surprising, however, because neither girl talked much about their personal lives. I admire that level of professionalism in the people that work for me.”

  “Is there anything else you can think of that might be pertinent? Anything at all?”

  Morris Hoppenheim gave the matter several moments of thought, which Marissa appreciated. A lot of people would just automatically say ‘no’, just to get her out of their hair.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Larkin, I really can’t think of anything else. I’ve told you, and the police, all I can.” Morris Hoppenheim rose to his feet and gave her an apologetic smile. “Now, I need to get back to work. Good luck in your investigation.”

  Chapter 11

  She decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in a little café she’d seen up the street from her hotel. After ordering a smoothie and settling into a comfortable booth near the window, she pulled out Julia Marlow’s journal.

  She felt a little guilty, rifling through someone else’s private thoughts and musings, but she hoped Ming was right and there would be some entries that could help them find the twins. Marissa flipped through the journal, finding it almost completely full, and picked a point three-quarters of the way through to start.

  She struck pay dirt almost immediately.

  April 21, 2016

  You’ve always been a shadow in my life, lurking in all the corners and 3 a.m.’s when I can’t sleep. Where are you? Who are you? Mom won’t say. She gets mad and drinks more whenever Jessie or I ask about you, so we quit asking. But we never quit wondering. I found this picture in her stuff once and the date on the back makes me think this is probably you. You guys look happy. I’ve never seen her smile like that...I didn’t even know she could. She probably can’t now, with all the chemicals she gets pumped into her face. Jessie and I promised each other that no matter how saggy and wrinkly we get, we’re never going to do that to ourselves.

  Nobody ever said you were in the military. I Googled the uniform and found out you’re a Marine. I wonder if I took your picture to a recruitment office if they could help me figure out who you are? Thomas says they might. You’d like Thomas. He’s big and strong and really nice to us. Nicer than anyone else except maybe Ming. She’s our housekeeper and I think you’d like her, too...

  It went on like that for page after page, entry after entry, and Marissa had to wipe her eyes more than once. These kids just wanted someone to love them so badly and Julia’s writing unmistakably shouted her anguish. The girl might have a career as a writer if the acting jobs ever dried up.

  Marissa marked the entry with the picture of a genuinely smiling Siena Marlow standing next to a tall, fit man in Marine Corps dress blues. He had Julia Marlow’s blue eyes and the heart-shaped face the twins shared, though his hair was so short that Marissa couldn’t tell what color it was. She carefully peeled up just enough tape to be able to peek at the back and find the date Julia had mentioned. Siena would certainly have had to be pregnant by that time. The younger twin’s idea of taking the picture to a recruiter for identification might not be a bad idea and Marissa made a mental note to see if there was one nearby. For the time being, she continued to read.

  It took her a couple of hours to skim through everything and pick out what relevant information there was. She didn’t think it needed to go to the police; the only new details she learned were about Julia and Jessie’s father and she still didn’t buy the custody angle that others had put forth. The guy was a Marine, for crying out loud, and sure, there were probably jerks in the Corps just like everywhere else in life, but she just couldn’t picture one kidnapping his own kin.

  Marissa checked the clock on the wall opposite her, saw that it was 4:45, and decided to see if she could locate a recruitment station nearby. It took only a little internet searching to turn up the address of one about five miles from the Hotel Hollywood.

  She walked through the door minutes before they would close up for the day and she scared the crap out of the young man at the front desk. The kid had been reading instead of watching the door.

  “Can I help you, miss?” he asked once he’d recovered his breath.

  “I certainly hope so. I’m wondering if there’s any way to identify a Marine from a picture? I know it’s probably a long shot, but...” she trailed off with a shrug.

  The kid frowned in thought, then rose from his seat and put his head around the door to a nearby office. He spoke with someone for several moments and then an older Marine joined them.

  “I’m Sergeant Preston.” He held out a hand for Marissa to shake. “Private Wells tells me you’ve got a picture of a Marine and you’re hoping to figure out who he is?”

  “Yes.” Marissa produced Julia’s journal and turned to the page. “The date on the back says this was taken in October of 2001.”

  The two studied the photograph carefully for awhile before the younger Marine looked up.

  “Is that Siena Marlow?” he asked, “the, um, woman all over the internet for falling off the bar at the Greystone last year?”

  “It is,” Marissa confirmed.

  She’d seen that particular video, too, and it had something like 10,000,000 views on YouTube. Siena was fond of partying and when the woman went out, all bets were off, and alcohol tended to affect her behavior. The most famous was the video in question and it showed the woman acting like a fool on top of a bar. It had only gone downhill once she danced her way right off the end and face planted on the floor.

  “I doubt she was falling off bars this night,” the older man pointed out with a tight smile. “They’re at the USMC Birthday Ball. I recognize the ballroom at Camp Pendleton.”

  “Is there any way to find out who he is?” Marissa asked hopefully.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “If I can find out who the official photographer was that night, I might be able to get you a name. It’ll take awhile though, ‘cause someone up in Pendleton will have to dig up the photographer’s name first.”

  “That would be fantastic!” Marissa told him gratefully. She started to close the journal, but he stopped her.

  “You say that’s Siena Marlow? Aren’t her kids famous for starring in Gossip Queens?” Both Marissa and the younger Marine stared at him in surprise and he elaborated with a chuckle. “I’ve got a twelve-year-old and a fourteen-year-old, both girls, and they watch it all the time.”

  “You’re thinking of the right girls,” Marissa confirmed, “Jessie and Julia Marlow.”

  The older Marine met her eyes. “You’re looking for their daddy. Are you a private investigator or something? Is he not paying his child support?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I’m a reporter,” she hurried to explain, “I’m doing the...family a favor is all.”

  The man grunted and nodded once. “Leave me a number so I can get a hold of you if I find anything. And can I make a copy of this picture?”

  “Not going to sell it to the tabloids, are you, Sarg?” Private Wells joked. It earned him a stern frown and a finger pointing back to his desk. He went, rather meekly.

  Marissa let the sergeant make a copy of the picture and left him her business card, cell number scrawled on the back just like she had for Ming, and left the office.

  Not quite a dead-end, but certainly not as helpful as she’d supposed. Hopefully Detective Lawson could give her more.

  Chapter 12

  She called Brand as soon as she got back to the hotel. His line rang once...twice...then was picked up.

  “Hello?” he answered, sounding distracted.

  “Brand, it’s Marissa.” She held her cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she fished out her hotel room key.

  “How’s the Sunshine State?” he asked brightly.

  “Sunny.”

  The light on the key slot turned green and beeped once, letting her kno
w that her card had been recognized and the door was now unlocked. Marissa pushed it open and was blasted in the face by a wave of coolness from the air conditioner. The thing was rattling a little, but seemed to be working hard to keep her room a bearable temperature and though it couldn’t help the humidity, she’d take whatever she could get at this point.

  “How’d your interviews go?” he inquired, “Did Siena Marlow give you anything?”

  Marissa made a disgusted noise that made him chuckle. “Ha, no! Siena Marlow is an absolute witch! I’m not all that convinced she even knows her kids are missing!”

  “That bad, huh? I’ve seen some of the viral videos and she looks like a piece of work.”

  “You can’t even imagine how much worse it is in real life.” Marissa dumped her purse on the bed and kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief. “She’s a train wreck.”

  “And what about Jensen Davis?” Brand asked, “How was that?”

  “Jensen Davis is a sleazy cheapskate creep,” Marissa growled, “His main concern is the looming loss of income he’s going to face if the girls aren’t found before the studio runs out of footage to use.”

  “He sounds like quite the bleeding heart,” Brand said. Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Was he able to tell you anything useful?”

  “Between the veiled innuendos and cheesy job offers, he didn’t give me much to go on. Oh, and he stuck me with half the dinner bill.”

  “Classy guy. And did you kick him in the balls for hitting on you? I hope you did.” He sounded angry. “Especially since I wasn’t there to do it for you.”

  Marissa was touched by this unexpected possessive streak. “I’d probably be calling from jail if I had, but believe me, I was tempted.”

  “So the interviews were a bust? I’m sorry you had to go through all that for nothing.”

  “Actually, they weren’t a complete waste. Well, they were, but I got some leads on the side.” She smiled triumphantly.

  “Go on,” Brand prompted, “Don’t just leave me hanging, hun.”

  “I had a little chat with the Marlow’s housekeeper after Miss Self-Absorbed gave me the boot.”

  “Housekeepers always have the best dirt on people. What did she have to say?”

  “She was very nervous, though I can tell she genuinely cares about Julia and Jessie. I need you to check a couple names for me when you get to the office tomorrow.”

  There was a rustling sound as Brand switched his phone to the other ear and started shifting through papers. “Shoot.”

  “I need to know everything you can find out about a bodyguard named Thomas Duvall and a gangbanger named Ryan Chase,” she told him. She gave him the ages and descriptions that Ming had given her.

  “What’s their relationship with Julia and Jessie?” He asked after he’d finished jotting down the information.

  “Thomas has been the twins’ bodyguard for the last two years and apparently, Jessie was seeing Ryan on the sly.”

  “Okay, got it. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got something. Did she give you anything else?”

  “She did, actually,” Marissa said, “Julia Marlow’s journal.”

  Brand whistled softly.

  “I felt so nosy reading it, but I did find a picture of her parents that she’d taped to one of the pages. It looks like her dad is a Marine, so I visited a recruitment office. One of the men there promised to look into it for me to see if we can figure out who he is.”

  “Great work, Marissa!” Brand praised, “Did he give you any idea how long that might take?”

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t.”

  “So what are you doing in the meantime?” he wanted to know. “Did you get in touch with that police officer I mentioned? He could probably get you better information, on Ryan at least.”

  “Yeah, I did and he’s actually a Major Crimes Detective. I’m meeting him for a late lunch tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it under control. I’m proud of you, you know,” Brand murmured, “You’re really taking this job change in stride. Harlan made a good choice when he promoted you.”

  “Thank you, Brand. I appreciate the vote of confidence more than you know.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, honey. Sleep tight.”

  “Night, Brand.”

  Chapter 13

  Marissa walked through the door to The Dry Barrel bar and looked around. It was very Old West and although it wasn’t her kind of place, she couldn’t complain about the atmosphere. The place was clean but dark and smelled of warm hops and grilled meat.

  Her attention was caught by a man sitting at a table towards the back facing the rest of the room. He had ash-blonde hair, bushy eyebrows, and a handlebar mustache. An old felt cowboy hat rested on the polished wooden tabletop beside him.

  Ranger Lawson, she presumed, and started towards him.

  He looked up as she reached his table and she was struck by the most arresting blue eyes she’d ever seen. He smiled guardedly and she spied just a hint of dimples.

  “Miss Larkin, I’m guessin'?” he asked and he sounded exactly like his voicemail greeting. His voice was deep, mellow, and held just a hint of accent. Texas maybe?

  “I am. Detective Lawson?”

  “Yes ma’am. Have a seat.” He rose and pulled out the chair opposite him and didn’t regain his own seat until she had settled into hers.

  Before they could move past initial introductions, a wide-hipped, big-breasted redhead dressed in a modernized version of saloon girl attire sauntered up to them.

  “What can I get you, honey?” she asked Marissa.

  “Um, what do you have on tap?”

  The waitress listed half a dozen beers and Marissa chose the only one she recognized from the list. She wasn’t normally a beer drinker, but she’d hazard a guess this place didn’t serve much besides that and probably hard liquor. After an overly rowdy night in college, Marissa was less a fan of that than she was of beer.

  The waitress turned her attention to the detective. “How ‘bout you, cowboy? Another scotch?”

  “No thank you, ma’am. I gotta drive. Just a water this time.”

  After the waitress had collected his empty glass and gone, Marissa turned to her companion with raised eyebrows. “So,” she started, “Ranger Lawson. That’s a pretty unusual name.”

  Ranger grinned and it brought his dimples into full evidence. “Yeah, my dad was obsessed, and I mean ooooobsessed, with old westerns. Gunsmoke, Winchester ’73, but especially The Lone Ranger. I grew up watching them with him at night and on the weekends. They shaped my childhood more than probably anything else and is one of the reasons I chose to go into law enforcement in the first place.”

  That must be the long explanation that made Brand so grumpy. Marissa returned his smile. “The strong resemblance to Doc Holliday doesn’t hurt either, does it?”

  He blinked at her in surprise. “Huh. Most people don’t pick up on that. You a fan?”

  “I’ve been known to watch my share of westerns,” she responded, “and that time period was always my favorite in history class.”

  The waitress breezed by, depositing their drinks and telling them to “just holler” if they needed anything else.

  “Well, pretty lady,” Lawson said after thanking the waitress, “you and I are going to get on just fine I think.” He raised his glass and saluted Marissa before taking a healthy swallow of its contents. “So, you flew all the way out here from The Big Apple to look into the Marlow kidnapping?”

  “I did,” she agreed.

  “I hate to see you waste your time, then. As a journalist, you must know that the police aren’t usually in the habit of discussing open investigations,” he said flatly, taking another drink and studying her over the rim of his glass. “Not with the media, at any rate.”

  “Unless they’re stuck,” she replied, “Which I get the impression you are. And besides, I’ve already met with Siena Marlow, the twins’ agent, and Morris Hoppenheim.”

 
He made a face. “Didn’t tell you much, did they?”

  “Ah, no.” Marissa leaned forward. “No they didn’t and I’ve noticed that there’s been next to zero media coverage. Why is that?”

  “Jensen Davis is why,” Ranger growled, “The little rat won’t issue a statement and Siena Marlow is so wrapped up in her own life that she couldn’t issue a statement even if she had one.”

  “And there’s no one else?” Marissa thought she knew the answer to that already, but this man had been involved in the case from the beginning so he hopefully knew more than she did.

  “No one,” Ranger confirmed, “and it breaks my heart. Famous or not, there doesn’t seem to be anyone that really knows these poor kids.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely true.” Marissa smiled a little grimly. “I think we can help each other.”

  “That so?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she insisted, “I’m a reporter, not a cop, and I’m good with people. A source provided me with a couple of names that might be of interest. What do you know about Thomas Duvall and Ryan Chase?”

  The guarded look was back in his eyes, but he seemed willing to play along for now. “Never heard of Ryan Chase.”

  “What about Thomas?” she pressed.

  “The bodyguard,” Ranger sighed, “He’d have been a great source if he weren’t dead.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me about what happened to him? I know you have to keep some things back, but I’m hoping you can give me something.”

  “Maybe.”

  Fine. He wanted to play his cards close to the chest, that was his business and more than likely, department policy as well. It might not hurt to show him a couple of hers in an effort to build rapport.

  “I’m told he was shot in the back of the head shortly after the twins vanished,” she said, “and his body was found in a field on the outskirts.”

  Ranger’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”