Bones Behind the Wheel

by E. J. Copperman

  Get a Lyft and charge it on your emergency credit card, I sent. Go home now.

  In a more convenient world I would have called my mother to give Liss a ride home but she lived too far away to get here quickly. I cursed myself for even considering letting my daughter come on this nutty errand and hit the Send button.

  (Actually, the first thing I did was accidentally hit the Send button on that SOS text and send it to Paul, who looked stumped.)

  I would have put the phone away even as Josh was saying, “Is there a way out of the yard without going through the house?” but I noticed a text from Phyllis.

  Got word on the owner of that Lincoln. Call me 4 more. I briefly pondered four more what until I realized what she meant and decided I didn’t have time for a phone call now.

  “No,” Paul said. “The whole yard is fenced in and there is no gate other than the one over there.” He pointed toward a panel of the stockade fence that had hinges on the yard side. “But it is locked on the outside. We could probably cut the lock the way we did this one.” He nodded toward Everett, who was still holding the file.

  I relayed all this to Josh, who shook his head. “It would make too much noise. Can we remove the hinges on this side?”

  It took a short walk to get to the panel in question and I looked at the hinges. “We could if we had exactly the right screwdriver. It would have to be pretty big because you’re going to need some leverage and those screws are large. I didn’t see one like that in the shed.”

  “Looks like our best shot is to go in through the house and try to make a dash for the front door,” Josh said. “I can’t say I’m crazy about that option with a guy who has a gun in there.”

  “Don’t think you could hop the fence?” I was kidding; the fence was wooden and at least seven feet tall. But Josh looked at it and considered. “I’m joking.”

  “You should wave a flag or something when you do that.”

  I ignored that. “How long do you think before he comes looking for us?” I asked anybody who wanted to venture an opinion. “Do I have time to call the Hazlet cops?”

  “And tell them what?” Katrina asked. “That a man is holding us hostage in a suburban backyard?”

  “He has a gun and he is threatening us,” Josh pointed out. “I don’t think we have to worry about looking foolish.”

  * * *

  “I don’t get this at all,” Katrina said. “He kept telling me I’d have to wait until someone else got here. Was that you?”

  I shrugged. Who knew what Bill’s weird plan was?

  We huddled together in a corner of the yard that seemed least visible from the house, close to the back wall of the building but to the side where it would be hard for Bill to see us from any of the windows in the kitchen or back bedroom. We couldn’t see in, either, so it was hard to say whether he was inside or not.

  We spoke in low tones. “No, it must be someone other than us. Bill said something about having to do this or ‘they’ would kill him,” I told Katrina. “Do you have any idea who ‘they’ are?”

  “I don’t know but he was talking to somebody on the phone and he seemed really nervous,” she answered. “But that was before things got really crazy and he locked me in the shed. All I know is he called somebody and said the car thing wasn’t working out. I don’t know what that means, but whatever answer he got seemed to shake him up a lot. That’s when he said we should go outside to clear our heads and the next thing I knew I was locked up in there.” She shook her head, trying to jettison the memory of twenty minutes ago.

  “Call the police,” Josh urged. “Or I can. Either way we might have a better chance trying to wait it out here than to storm through the house. I can’t protect both of you and myself at the same time.” The usual male response: Women must be protected. Of course, there was a guy with a gun who had threatened to shoot us, so I’d take any protection I could get.

  “We can help if it comes to that,” Paul said. “But an intervention from the police might actually speed the resolution of this case.” That’s Paul. He’s not only male; he’s also so focused that it borders on crazy.

  “It makes sense,” I said. I reached for my phone.

  “Making sense is overrated.” The voice was coming from the back door of the house, and it certainly was not Bill Harrelson’s. It was female and had a vaguely familiar tone. I couldn’t see the speaker yet but I could hear her footsteps and they were coming in our direction. Calling the cops seemed out of the question now, but I quickly dialed McElone’s number—she’s on speed dial—and put the phone on mute. She’d be able to hear without making noises that would put us in even more danger. If that was possible.

  The footsteps increased in volume until the woman turned the corner and looked at the group of us. And in this case, I was betting all of us—including the ghosts—were visible. Because although the speaker, Darlene Menendez, was looking just at Josh, Katrina and me, she was not alone.

  Behind her and slightly to her right was another ghost.

  “Harriet Adamson,” Paul said. “That’s who you are, isn’t it?” I guess he recognized her aura, or something, from the Ghosternet.

  “And you’re Paul.” Harriet looked him up and down. “Nice looking young fella, weren’t you?”

  Oh, and did I mention that Darlene was holding a gun?

  “There are too many things that don’t make sense and are still true,” she said. “Like that Herm was cheating on me.”

  “And he was cheating on me at the same time,” Harriet said.

  “Apparently with a number of women,” I said. “So you shot him when he was supposed to be going to see Harriet here.”

  “Harriet where?” Both Josh and Katrina started looking randomly around. I don’t know why people who can’t see ghosts will do that. It’s not going to help. In any event, this conversation was going to be complicated.

  “Just go with it,” I told Josh. I knew he would pick up on that immediately. Katrina, however, was not as understanding, having not been married to me and seeing (or not seeing) what goes on in my house for some time now.

  “Go with what?” she asked and I just didn’t answer. It didn’t seem the top priority right at the moment.

  I’d only mentioned Harriet to see if Darlene was aware of her presence, and I saw no reaction from her, which indicated I was right: Darlene could see Harriet, and probably all ghosts. So Paul, Maxie and Everett couldn’t use the element of surprise.

  But Darlene wasn’t listening; she was considering what I’d said. Finally, she nodded. “I’m not going to confess to anything in public, even here and even in front of your three ghosts,” Darlene said. Like they were my ghosts.

  Yup, she saw them. That was a major bummer.

  “You can see ghosts,” I said out loud. It was surprise more than communication.

  “Of course,” Darlene told me. “Did you think you were the only one?”

  I didn’t even think I was the only one in my family, but that wasn’t the point. “Did you kill Harriet?”

  “No,” Harriet said. “I drank myself to death.”

  “I told you, I’m not confessing anything to you,” Darlene repeated. But there was something about the way she was refusing to confirm or deny my accusation that struck me as wrong. Why would she sound like that if she hadn’t … and I flashed on Oliver and Tony. Oh, of course.

  “You didn’t kill Herman,” I said.

  “What?” It could have been Paul. Could have been Josh. Could have been Katrina. Probably was all of them.

  “You’re protecting someone else. Someone who would have been shooting from a very low angle.” I was finally putting it all together. “Sgt. Menendez killed her father.”

  “It was an accident.” From what I’d seen, you could count on Harriet not to think before she spoke. “She was only three.”

  “Sgt. Menendez?” Josh was trying to keep up.

  Josh and Katrina hadn’t heard, but they heard Darlene say, “Your theory is in
teresting but you’re not getting me on tape saying so.”

  “I don’t have a recorder on me.” It was true; I’d even left the voice recorder I use for Paul at home because … well, there was Paul. “Have you been covering for your daughter all these years?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “She got hold of her father’s gun somehow.”

  “Darlene had it out.” Good old Harriet. “She was mad at Herm because of me.”

  “And Theresa picked it up and shot him by accident, right?” I said. To anyone who would confirm. “That’s really irresponsible gun ownership, Darlene.”

  “Don’t say a word.” Darlene’s tone was threatening, although I couldn’t imagine what she might be able to do to Harriet. Still, Harriet shut up.

  Josh gets ornery when someone threatens our lives; go figure. “What did you do with Bill? I didn’t hear a gunshot.”

  “Mr. Harrelson is alive and well and preparing his van,” Darlene said. “He’ll have some work to do when we are finished here.”

  I didn’t care for that innuendo much so I decided to distract Darlene with facts. “It was Bill Harrelson’s blood in addition to Herman Fitzsimmons’s in the Continental,” I said. “Obviously that couldn’t have been there since 1983 because Bill was just a little boy then. So when you heard the Continental had been found you somehow got it taken away long enough to put some of his blood—and I’d love to hear how you got that—in the car and then bring it back. You were blackmailing Bill and you probably still are. He was talking to you on the phone before when Katrina heard his end of the conversation and he was terrified you could hear me question him. Had you arrived here already or were you listening in on your cell phone?”

  Harriet smiled. “Getting Bill’s blood was easy. I just used a razor blade on his wrist when he wasn’t looking. And he’s always not looking for me. The tricky part was getting his hand in the car.” Okay, so Harriet, in addition to being dead, was crazy. Good to know. But it did explain the way Bill had been favoring his arm the day before.

  I turned and looked back at Darlene because talking to Harriet wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I wasn’t optimistic about the chances with Darlene, but keeping her from shooting us was probably the best use of my time. Stall. “Why’d you bury old Herm in a Continental, anyway, and how’d you get Bill’s dad to give you his car?”

  Darlene smiled. Clearly she was proud of her handiwork even if it was a subject she was not keen on discussing for fear of the imaginary wire I was wearing to incriminate her. If she was here to shoot the three of us I didn’t really see the utility in keeping mum, but Darlene did. “I’m not going to tell you anything at all.” She turned sharply to admonish Harriet. “And neither are you!”

  “Neither is who?” Katrina asked. Katrina had only been living with ghosts for a few days. It takes most people at least a week.

  “So let’s get you all back into the shed,” Darlene said, pointing with the gun. “It’ll be so much quieter and neater that way.”

  I saw Josh’s triceps tighten up.

  The only thing to do was pretend Darlene hadn’t spoken. “Here’s how I see it,” I said. “Your daughter accidentally killed her father. You didn’t want to call the police and tell them that. Why not?” No answer, so I went on. (See: Gun.) “You got somebody—Harriet?—to help you get the body out of your house. There wasn’t much in the way of forensic science in those days to find the traces once you’d cleaned up. And then somehow you got to Harrelson, Sr. and made him help you bury the car, with Herman, behind what wasn’t yet my house. Why there? Why pick on me thirty years ahead of time?”

  “Oh, seriously,” Darlene said. “Can’t you just go into the shed and get shot like you’re supposed to?”

  “Once the car was in the ground you reported your husband missing and the police investigated,” I continued as if nothing had been said. (Hey, it was working so far.) “Sgt. Blanik didn’t think it was that clear a missing person case but he couldn’t find any evidence so he had to close it as unsolved. And for three decades everything was good. You married Mr. Menendez and your daughter grew up to be a Harbor Haven cop. I bet you hadn’t seen that coming.”

  “Get. In. The shed.”

  My tactic was wearing thin. I wondered if Josh had anything he wanted to try because I was coming up blank.

  When in doubt, just barrel on through. “But then Bill’s crew—and that must have been a surprise—dug up the Continental looking for emeralds. How did emeralds get into the car, Darlene?” Maybe she’d answer that question.

  “I don’t know.” And oddly, I believed her. But she didn’t add anything else. I took it as progress that she wasn’t repeating her order to go inside and get shot. It’s the little things that keep you going in life.

  Josh must have been thinking along with me because I felt him move very slowly away from my left shoulder. If I could keep Darlene’s attention on me he might be able to circle over to her and get the gun out of her hand.

  Paul was watching Josh too and provided a partial distraction. “I have been investigating your late husband’s murder,” he told Darlene. “He seemed to disappear literally without a trace until his body was discovered in the Lincoln. You knew how to use a forklift, and assumedly a backhoe as well. You were capable to operating that type of earth moving equipment. Was it originally your plan to do the whole job on your own?”

  “I’m not saying anything,” Darlene said, which was itself a contradiction.

  “Who is she talking to?” Katrina asked. Then her attention was redirected toward the back door of the house. And a strange, nostalgic smile came across her face that was absolutely inexplicable given our current circumstances.

  She was beaming at Bill Harrelson, who was walking out toward us holding a coil of rope. I’ve done my share of home improvement and a little light construction but at the moment I couldn’t think of one positive usage for a coil of rope.

  “Bill,” Katrina said, and then she remembered what was going on and the smile turned sad.

  “Everything’s ready,” Bill told Darlene. “Why aren’t they in the shed?”

  “Because you didn’t plan for ghosts,” she told him. “Get them in there now.”

  “Ghosts?” Bill looked at me. “That’s real?”

  I shook my head disapprovingly at him. “How’d they get you, Bill?” I asked. “What can Darlene possibly have on you to get you into this position?”

  “Nothing.” A fourth grader couldn’t have been less convincing.

  “He did enough to get himself arrested and he knows it,” Darlene said, aimed more at Bill than at answering my question. “He put out a couple of fake gems so his boys would find the car that he thought would clear his dad. But now he knows better. His father helped kill Herman, indirectly, and Bill here helped cover it up. Not so indirectly.”

  “Stop it,” Bill told her.

  “I’m just reminding you of your responsibilities.” She gestured toward us.

  Josh had stopped moving when Bill arrived because Bill was coming from an angle that would betray Josh’s plan if he kept going. Darlene handed Bill the gun anyway, which moved the focus of our effort toward getting it away from him. So that hadn’t worked out great, no fault of my husband’s.

  “Maybe Bill knows.” If something didn’t work on Darlene it didn’t mean I couldn’t use it on Bill. “How’d the emeralds get into the Lincoln and my ceiling beam?”

  “Pirates, I guess,” Bill said. “Maybe the legend was true.” He gestured with the gun as he had before. “Now get back into that shed.”

  It was fairly dark in the yard now and getting chillier by the minute. I wished I’d brought a heavier jacket to get shot in. The porch light from Bill’s back door was shining but it wasn’t exactly bright back here. The ghosts were getting harder to see. I wondered if that was better for my side or for Darlene’s and decided three ghosts are better than one.

  “No,” I said
to Bill. “The pirates would have been there two hundred years or more before the car got there. How’d the emeralds get into the car? I’m sure you know, Bill. You’re the foreman on the job and those men were operating under your supervision. You planted a couple of stones, didn’t you? Because you wanted that car to be found.”

  Bill’s eyes widened by about an inch—which is a lot in eyes—and he steeled himself not to look at Darlene. “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is,” Josh said, circling back toward me. “You wanted to clear your father’s name after all these years because you’d heard the stories about how he must have been in on the disappearance of Herman Fitzsimmons and how he should have been in jail. You’d seen him drink himself to death over it. And you wanted to make that go away. But you had a problem: It was true.”

  “But a metal detector can’t find emeralds,” I pointed out. “Why plant gems if the car was going to be found anyway?”

  Bill was sweating and it wasn’t at all hot out. “I don’t know where the emeralds came from,” he insisted.

  “Yeah, you do,” I said. “Was this a side thing? In digging up the beach you found some of the fabled gems left by pirates and you wanted to use that for cover? Or did you just buy some fake emeralds because of the legend and leave them in there so you could tell the police the pirate story and distract them from the idea that you were trying to get the car found?”

  “Enough,” Bill said. “Get in the shed.”

  “You don’t want to do this,” Josh continued. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Katrina take a couple of steps toward the shed because Bill had told her to do so. “This isn’t going to help clear your dad’s name and it’s going to get you into jail for the rest of your life.”

  All that was true, but it wasn’t actually helpful because Bill was now angry in addition to being afraid of Darlene. I was hoping we could keep this going long enough for the encroaching darkness to make the ghosts practically invisible and exercise our advantage in numbers over Bill’s advantage in firepower.

  “Enough!” he shouted. “I’ll shoot you here if I have to.” Personally I didn’t see how the scene of the shooting was of all that much difference to the shoot-ee, but the timing was essential in that the later it got the better chance we had of there being no shooting at all.