by Kathi Daley
“Is there something I can do to help you?” I asked.
“There is a bowl of strawberries in the refrigerator. They are already washed, but if you want to help, you can slice them. I’m planning to serve strawberry shortcake for dessert.”
“Sounds nice and springlike.” I opened the refrigerator and took out the bowl. “I’m so happy the warmer and drier weather has settled in. I have the landscaper starting the hardscape next week.”
“I’d love to see the final plans you came up with. Are you still doing the large patio off the back of the house as we discussed at one point?”
I nodded as I continued to slice the berries. “The patio will be large enough for serving meals on sunny days. We are going to have both a large fireplace for warmth in the spring and fall and a water feature to present a cooling effect in the summer. The patio will be covered to offer protection from the sun but with open sides to bring an outdoor feel. Lonnie is going to make planter boxes that will be strategically placed to offer both color and privacy.”
“It sounds lovely.” Lacy slid the cake into the oven. “Will you have outdoor heaters for the cooler weather?”
“Lonnie and I discussed overhead heaters that can be individually controlled. I think the space is going to be used quite often.”
“And the gazebo?” Lacy took out a carton of heavy cream for whipping. “Are you going to build one on the bluff like you were thinking?”
“We are. And we will have a network of walkways connecting the patio with the gazebo as well as the surrounding area. Georgia wants to use shrubs to create isolated walkways, although it will be a while until any shrubs we plant this season will grow up that much. Still, the idea of walkways leading to secret places appeals to the mystery lover in me. I think that I’m going to start looking for some smaller water features such as fountains to sprinkle around the property after we get back from San Francisco next week.”
“San Francisco?”
I told Lacy about the quick trip Georgia and I were making.
“Wow, that is a long way to go for a few hours. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a few days? Maybe do some shopping? I hear the shopping in San Francisco is to die for.”
“I think I much prefer to get in and out.”
Lacy glanced toward the staircase.” It sounds like the baby is awake. I should head up to get her.”
I glanced out the back window. “It looks like Colt is here. I think I’ll go say hi.”
“Grab a beer from the refrigerator. I’m sure he’ll want one. It’ll save him the trip of coming into the house for it.”
“Maybe we should put an ice chest out by the grill,” I suggested.
“That isn’t a bad idea. I’ll look for the ice chest after I grab Maddie.”
Lacy left the kitchen and I grabbed the beer as she’d suggested and headed out onto the deck closest to the house. Lonnie and Lacy had two deck areas, one just off the kitchen, providing an intimate setting for small family dinners, and a larger one with a grill area behind Lacy’s workshop for larger gatherings.
“I’m glad you made it,” I said, handing Colt the beer. He looked good today. Relaxed and casual, with just the right amount of ruggedness. He wore faded blue jeans, a pale blue T-shirt, and worn boots. If he were a character in one of my books, he’d have a cool cowboy name like Houston—or Colt, I realized.
“Thanks; you read my mind.” He took a swig. “I wouldn’t miss Lacy’s ribs for the world.”
“I understand that Lonnie is the master griller in town.”
“He’s not bad, but I wouldn’t say he is the master.” Colt chuckled, which caused the hard lines of his face to soften just a bit. “Of course, he does have an advantage that no one else does.”
My eyes seemed to involuntarily lower to his lips as he lifted the bottle once again and took a long, slow taste of the dark ale. “And what would that be?”
Colt lowered the bottle and smiled. “Lacy’s barbecue sauce. I almost canceled today in favor of chasing down a lead, but then I thought about that sauce and decided that the lead could wait for another day.”
“Lead?” I raised a brow. “Are you talking about a lead in Mr. Palmer’s death?”
Colt nodded. “Maybe. It has to do with the body in the trunk, which I’m still not convinced is linked to Palmer’s death at all.”
I sat down on a nearby bench. Colt sat next to me, and I tried to ignore the tingling where our thighs touched. Colt in uniform was a handsome man, but Colt dressed casually was downright irresistible. Though resisting was exactly what I intended to do.
“What have you found out?” I asked, trying desperately to refocus my attention.
“I did some research into missing persons cases in a Hail Mary attempt to land the identity of the skeleton in the trunk and happened to stumble across an article about a teenager named Grange Highlander who turned up missing in May of 1966.”
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s not. I found out that before his disappearance, Grange accused another student of assaulting him, which led to that other student being kicked off the football team. The student who he accused of assaulting him was none other than murder victim Bruce Palmer.”
My eyes grew large. “So Palmer killed the guy who was responsible for getting him kicked off the football team and stuffed his remains in a trunk?”
Colt nodded. “I think so. I looked into the school records and found that Highlander and Palmer were on the high school football team at the same time. Highlander was a bench warmer, while Palmer was on the fast track to a football scholarship at any number of major universities. After he was kicked off the team, he fell off the radar and had to settle for a job picking up garbage.”
The idea seemed somewhat far-fetched, but it was possible. “So Palmer willed the kid’s bones back to him. That’s pretty sick.”
“I agree. It is sick, but it does fit. I still need to verify that the bones belong to Highlander. Until I do, all I have is a really good theory.”
My nose wrinkled at the thought of keeping a body in a trunk for all those years. “I can understand Palmer’s rage at being kicked off the football team, and I can even see why he might have killed the guy in a fit of rage. But why would he stuff his body in a trunk and keep it with him for the rest of his life? Why not bury it or dump it somewhere? And even more of a question, why would he will the trunk to the boy he’d killed? Did he plan for someone to use that as a clue in figuring out whose bones were in the trunk?”
“I don’t know the answer to any of those very relevant questions. I’m not sure we will ever know the answers. But the first step is to verify that the bones belong to missing Grange Highlander. If they do, I can get to work on the why. I’m not sure how relevant understanding Palmer’s motivation is to his murder even if I do manage to figure it out. I just don’t see how the bones in the trunk and Palmer’s murder can possibly be linked.”
“What if someone figured out that Palmer killed Highlander? Someone like a sibling or a best friend? What if that person killed Palmer as revenge for what he did all those years ago?”
“How would anyone find out about the trunk after all this time?” Colt asked.
“I don’t know, but it is possible. Maybe Palmer told his son his secret. Or maybe he told his attorney. Maybe they told someone else, and that someone told the person who killed Palmer.”
Colt looked doubtful. “I spoke to Doug Palmer, who claims to have no idea the bones were in the trunk. I guess he could be lying, but I sort of doubt it. Still, I suppose that it is possible that someone knew what Palmer had done and for some reason decided to tell someone associated with Highlander what they knew after all this time.”
This had turned out to be a most interesting murder case. I felt like there were all these related mysteries within the one overlying one. I was sure I could use some of it in some future book. “I’m going to California on Monday. If you are able to verify the identity of the bon
es, text me.”
“It will take a few days at the very least. In fact, I doubt I’ll have verification one way or another for quite some time, unless there is something that really stands out as being unique to Highlander, such as an old injury or a birth defect. When do you plan to get back?”
“I’ll be back the same night, but I will be pretty wiped out from the trip, so I doubt I’ll be ready to jump into anything until Wednesday.”
“Are you going alone?”
“Georgia is coming with me. We’ll be meeting the movers, overseeing the loading of the truck, and then heading back. I doubt you’ll even miss me.”
Chapter 13
What was I thinking, booking a flight so early in the morning? We could have taken a later flight and stayed over in San Francisco for a night, but no, I had to get in and get out like some sort of fugitive from the hell I’d left behind. Of course, maybe it was best that this would be a quick trip. Annie hadn’t emailed me back, and while her lack of response had been expected, it had hurt more than I could say.
“We’re boarding,” Georgia said.
I stood up and took my ticket out of my pocket. “As soon as we get settled, my plan is to sleep for as long as I can, while I can. I have a feeling this is going to be a tough day.”
Georgia took my hand in hers. “We’ll survive. I think it was smart to do things this way. No use spending any more time in San Francisco than you have to until you are ready. I know I wouldn’t be ready to go back to the home I shared with my husband after my own personal trauma. I’m not sure I’ll ever be, but I know for sure it won’t be for a very long time.”
“Yeah,” I stashed my purse under the seat in front of me and buckled myself in. Georgia settled in on the aisle seat, and I turned to her. “Thanks again for coming with me. I’m not sure I could have faced this on my own. You know I was a total stress case the last time we were there.”
Georgia laced her fingers through mine. “You know I am here for you. Whatever you need.”
“I haven’t heard from Annie,” I whispered as the flight attendant began the instructions for takeoff. “I didn’t really think she’d email me back, but I guess I hoped she would. I guess I’ll never stop hoping.” I looked down at my lap. “Am I nuts to keep trying?”
Georgia tightened her hand around mine. “No. You aren’t nuts. I think you are brave. I think that you are more than brave; you are fearless. And one day Annie is going to see that as well.”
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as the plane started to taxi. “I hope so. I’ve already lost so much. Losing her too seems so pointless. She isn’t a cruel person by nature, which confuses me even more. Can’t she see how much I’m hurting? Doesn’t she care?”
“Maybe she has her own demons to deal with. She’ll come around. Eventually.”
******
“What the…” My voice trailed off as I looked at the mess I encountered when I opened the roll-up door to the storage unit.
“Who would do such a thing?” Georgia asked.
The entire space had been ripped apart. It looked like a wild animal had been trapped in the unit and had shredded everything in its path as it tried to get out. Boxes were upended and emptied. Dresser drawers were pulled out, and Ben’s golf clubs were strewn around the floor.
“It looks like someone might have been looking for something,” Georgia said.
I lifted one of the sofa cushions, which had been ripped right down the middle. “What could anyone have been hoping to find inside a sofa cushion?”
“I don’t know,” Georgia admitted. “Should we call the police?”
I hesitated. My first instinct was to do it, but with the internal affairs investigation Colt had told me about, I was uncertain. I took several steps into the mess and stopped. “I’m going to call Colt. He’ll know what to do.”
My heart raced as I waited for Colt to pick up his phone. I’d had mixed emotions about the contents of the storage until all along, and now I felt more than conflicted. I felt violated. As if someone had stripped me naked and marched me through Ghirardelli Square.
“Abby,” Colt answered. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. Did you make it to San Francisco okay?’
“We made it okay, but when we got here, we found that my storage unit had been vandalized.”
“Someone broke into it?”
“Yes. That would be the definition of vandalized,” I shot back out of rage toward an unknown foe, not because I was angry with Colt.
“Was anything taken?” Colt asked in an even voice.
I let out a breath. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to look around. All the boxes have been opened and dumped out, all the dresser drawers were open, and the sofa cushions have been slit down the middle. It looks as if someone was looking for something. I don’t know if they found it. Should I call the police?”
Colt hesitated before answering. “Who knew that you had items stored in that location?”
“No one,” I answered. “Well, one person. I rented a truck and my neighbor helped me bring it over here when I moved out of my condo.”
“I’ll need his name and phone number. Does this neighbor know a lot of people in the city? People he might have told about the storage unit?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess Gus knows a lot of people. He owns a bar down by the Bay that a lot of cops frequent. He is the one who told Ben about the condo we bought in the first place. Still, I don’t know why he would tell anyone about the storage unit. He would know there wasn’t anything of value inside. He helped me move, so he got a look at what was going to be stored here.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like a likely candidate. Are you sure no one else knows about the unit?”
“No one. Other than Georgia, of course.”
“Is it possible that Frank Ribaldie could have questioned your neighbor about files Ben might have had when he died and he pointed him toward the storage unit?’
I narrowed my gaze. I didn’t think Gus knew Frank personally, but Frank was a cop, and he did like to drink and he did frequent cop bars, so maybe? “I guess it is possible that Frank and Gus could know each other. Gus and Ben were pretty tight. I guess it makes sense that Ben could have introduced them at some point. Ben and Frank weren’t partners, but they worked out of the same station, so they did team up from time to time. I suppose if Ben and Frank were working a case together and ended up in Gus’s part of town, they could have met. Do you really think Frank did this?”
“I guess it depends on how badly Frank wants the file he seems to think Ben had when he died.”
Oh lordy, Ben, what had you gotten yourself in to? “So should I call the cops?”
“Yes, I think you should. If Frank was the one who trashed the unit, he will be expecting you to call the cops when you discover what happened. If you don’t, it will look suspicious. He may even suspect that you are on to him.”
“If I call the cops, it is going to delay things. I might miss my flight.”
“Maybe. But I still think it is the best call. And it might not delay things all that much. Chances are the cops who respond will take a report and be on their way. I doubt a storage unit that has been broken into is going to be a high priority.”
I stifled a groan. “Okay. I’ll call them right now. Maybe I can change our flight to a later time and still get out of here by the end of the day.”
After I hung up with Colt, I filled Georgia in and then called the local precinct. I explained what had occurred and they promised to send someone over. I explained about my flight and the moving company that was most likely already on the way, and they promised to send someone who was nearby. I still didn’t expect anyone for hours and hours, so I was surprised when a police car showed up in less than thirty minutes.
“My name is Officer Long,” the man who got out introduced himself.
“Abby Sullivan. I appreciate you showing up so quickly. I have a moving company on the way.”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing is missing. At least I don’t think so. It is sort of hard to tell with this mess. I do know that I didn’t have anything of any real value stored in here, so I have no idea what someone could have been looking for.”
“Is there anything that someone could have been looking for that might be in your possession and not in here? Something like documents or important files?”
Okay, that sounded oddly specific. “No,” I said. “I don’t have anything like that. My husband died a year and a half ago, and the only files I kept were financial records for tax purposes. The box with those files is still here.” I walked across the room and stood in front of a pile of receipts and tax returns. “These are the only things I have that could be described as documents. I don’t have any expensive jewelry or valuable art or antiques. I really don’t know what the burglar would have been after.”
“Nothing was taken,” Georgia added. “Maybe it was just kids.”
“Maybe,” the cop replied.
He jotted down some notes, took down my email address, and said he would send me a report for my insurance company. He was just leaving when the moving truck arrived. Georgia and I began stuffing things back into boxes while the movers started with the larger items. Part of me seriously wanted to tell the driver to take everything to the dump, but then I realized there were things I wanted and would regret getting rid of, so I went back to my initial plan to have everything taken to Maine, where I could sort through it at my leisure. I called the airline; the flight Georgia and I were taking back was overbooked but the one after that one was only half full, so they gladly let us switch to that one without even charging us a change fee. That, at least, worked out in our favor.
And then things went more quickly than I imagined they would, and we ended up with time to kill. Georgia asked where I’d lived, so after the movers left, I drove by the condo. I expected a darkness to descend on me, but the only image to enter my mind was Ben carrying me up the four flights of stairs and across the threshold on the day we moved in.