by Meg Lelvis
After relaying the doc’s location and other details like insurance cards, the lady told Jack they looked forward to seeing him and to have a good evening.
Now something else to worry about. What would the shrink ask him? Did he really not know about Jack’s past like his Chicago doc, Nathan, said? The thought of opening that door sent waves of anxiety through his gut. He visualized lighting up a Marlboro. Very appealing. But every time he was tempted, he remembered his promise to Karen all those years ago. No, couldn’t smoke again. Drinking would have to satisfy him.
Jack spent the next two hours watching the BBC and national news, ordering and devouring most of a large sausage pizza, and brooding about his upcoming appointment with the psychiatrist.
He needed to dream up an excuse to tell Jill and Moose as to why he was taking the afternoon off.
On second thought, since when did he owe anyone an explanation? Nobody’s damn business, he’d just tell ‘em he was leaving for an appointment. End of story.
Tired of the news, he powered up his Kindle and continued reading Dead Wake. He enjoyed Erik Larson’s other historical works, and this one was excellent. In fact, childhood memories of Jack’s grandfather telling about the Lusitania remained fresh in his mind. The old man would bang his pipe on the nearest surface, scattering bits of tobacco around.
“Goddamn Krauts killing our people. You boys need to visit Kinsale someday. Learn some history.”
He and his brothers would say, “Yeah, Grandpa, we will.” The art of humoring your elders.
Jack didn’t have much time to read, but he figured books were better for his brain than staring at the mindless drivel on TV. He was glad Moose talked him into buying a Kindle. Easier than tramping around a bookstore or library.
By 10:30 Jack felt drowsy and decided to call it a night. Twenty minutes later he and Boone were settled on the bed snoring lightly in unison.
. . . . .
A green meadow, rolling hills, glittering blue stream skimming over black rocks. Sheep grazing far away, two figures kneeling, coaxing lamb to wobble over. Come closer, come closer; they do. Closer and closer. A woman whose long auburn hair dances in the breeze. A small girl, sun-kissed pigtails, laughing. What? Sudden darkness, inky black, sinister, threatening. Exploding reds, oranges, yellows. No, no, no.
Jolted awake, Jack sat up panting, Boone licking his cheek. “Shit. God, gotta stop this.”
He glanced at the clock. Good, only 2:00. He could pop another Ambien. He kicked off the sheet, stumbled into the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. In the mirror, a wild man stared back at him, hair on end, cheeks sagging. He swallowed the pill and returned to bed where Boone lay waiting for him.
The big dog’s soulful brown eyes gazed at Jack. “Think you’d remember them, buddy? You were just a pup, but they sure loved you.” His voice cracked. He ruffled Boone’s fur; the dog yipped and nuzzled under Jack’s arm. He pulled up the sheet, and tossed and thrashed until sleep finally offered its welcome respite.
Several hours later, the alarm buzzed. Jack’s first thought was relief that his psychiatrist’s appointment was that afternoon.
Chapter 20
Jack scarfed down his usual breakfast of plain Cheerios topped with a generous portion of blueberries, fresh after several days in the fridge. Following Baumgartner’s orders, he had washed only the portion he used, not the entire carton. Probably why they were still fresh. He drained his coffee mug and topped off the meal with a glass of OJ.
His cell chirped as he rinsed his dishes at the sink. He dried his hands, hurried to the bedroom, and retrieved his phone from the table. He checked the screen, clicked, and said, “Tommy. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to see if you’ve thought about the job in Wisconsin,” his brother answered. “My friend wants to know.”
“Yeah, I have. Don’t think so. Too much crap going on. Gotta wrap up my case. Murphy’s putting the screws on.”
“He shouldn’t. You said there’s no evidence. They know that.” Tom paused. “Ma took a fall and broke her hip. She’s having surgery tomorrow. Be nice if you come up, Jack.”
“Come on, Tommy, I can’t just up and leave. I’ll give her a call.”
“Jack—”
“Look, I’m seeing the new shrink today, but don’t tell Ma. See what comes from the sessions. Maybe I’ll need a change. Gotta run, and I’ll call you later for Ma’s number. She in the hospital?”
“Yeah.” Tom sounded annoyed. “Later, and have a good one.” He hung up before Jack could respond.
He shook his head. Shit, one more thing weighing him down. Couldn’t deal with family, job, Chicago. Had to get his head on straight first. He finished making himself presentable, let Boone out for a final whiz, and headed for the station.
Later in the morning, he met with the team in his office. Moose and Hector opened their notebooks, while Tilford sat like Humpty Dumpty. Jack nodded at him.
“What about Kelly Vega’s family for alibis?”
Tilford slurped his coffee. “Like I said, her dad’s a security guard at the mall. Brazos. Caught him at home. A rude son of a bitch if you ask me. Got a chest like a beer barrel.”
“Yeah, get to the point,” Jack said.
Tilford looked hard at Jack. “What’s eatin’ you this morning?”
Jack straightened in his chair. “What’s eatin’ me? I’ll tell—”
“Now boys,” Moose interrupted. “Play nice.”
Jack rolled his eyes and sighed.
Tilford continued. “Al Vega says he was off work last Tuesday night. Traded shifts with someone. He was home all night. Says the wife’ll vouch for him. Big surprise. I ask him if Kelly knows Todd from work.” Tilford snorted. “He gets all defensive, like I’m accusing him of something. Says he knows about the murder, but doesn’t think Todd and Kelly had any connection, and why am I harassing him? I tell him I’m not harassing anybody and—”
“What’s your take on how he and Kelly get along?” Hector interrupted.
“Doesn’t see her much. She comes over for Sunday dinner sometimes. The mom was at Kroger working so I didn’t talk to her. I’ll check with her later, but she’ll say she was home with the dad.”
Jack opened a file folder. “We’ll talk to Vega again. Gonna put him on the short list of possibles. Two of you go this time, Moose, Hector. See if that helps the guy’s attitude.”
Moose stretched his legs. “What about Doug Warner. Check again?”
“Yeah. Moose, after you talk to Vega, come here and wrap up the damn robbery.” Jack glanced at Tilford and Hector. “You guys’ll get the pleasure of meeting Warner. Let’s get this shit done today so I can tell Murphy we have a suspect list.”
After the men left, Jack gulped his luke-warm coffee, braced himself, and punched in Terri Warner’s number. His heart raced as if he were a teenager calling a girl for a date.
“Get it together,” he said to the empty room.
Ready to leave a message, Jack was surprised when she picked up.
“Mrs. Warner, Jack Bailey.”
“God, now what?”
“I need to speak to Bryan. Is he home?”
“No, he’s at school. He’ll be home around noon or one this afternoon.”
“Good. I’ll come over then.”
Mrs. Warner sighed. “I suppose you want to check his alibi for the night of the murder.”
“Yes. Just procedure.”
“Yeah, right. I know Bryan was at school that night, but you won’t take my word for it.”
“Nothing personal, Mrs. Warner, but—”
“I know. Just procedure.” She sounded resigned. “See you later, Lieutenant.”
“Yes.” Jack hung up. He felt uplifted. He’d see her again today. Almost felt like smiling.
Shit. He almost forgot the shrink appointment. He thought. Not to worry. He’d need less than an hour to reach the doc’s office. Plenty of time to make it by three.
Jack rearranged several piles of folders on his desk and reached for his phone when Denise stuck her head in the half-open doorway.
“Got a minute?”
“For you, yes, myee little chickadee.” One of his better imitations.
“Look who’s in a happy mood this morning. What’s going on, Bailey?” Denise grinned.
“Nada, just like to shock you once in awhile.”
Denise sat in a chair and smoothed her usual wiry mop. “I found out more about anorexia. Lots of info online, and also learned Kathleen’s sister had the problem.”
“Really,” Jack said. “I take it there’s more to it than a desire to be skin and bones.”
“That’s for sure. It’s a psychological and physical disease, and certain factors can lead to it.” She paused. “Including sexual trauma or abuse. Just like our friend, Brooke.”
Jack paused. “Interesting. What about Nolan’s sister?”
Denise took a gulp of her bottled water and twisted the cap back on. “Kathleen says she’s doing better, but she spent several years in and out of hospitals. Tore their family apart. A real bitch to get over, some never do.”
Jack rubbed his chin. “Yeah, who was that singer, long time ago…”
“Karen Carpenter,” Denise said. “Died from it.”
“What’s your take on how it relates to Brooke’s situation?”
“You remember it screwed up her senior year and college plans? The girl really fell apart. If I thought a guy caused my daughter all that grief, and a life-threatening illness, I’d be damn pissed, like I’ve said before.” Denise stood. “Gotta go, Bailey, just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Thanks, Williams, ya done good.”
After Denise left the office, Jack was restless, distracted. He wondered about the effect of Brooke’s anorexia on her family. Maybe that’s why Terri and Doug Warner split. He’d heard about parents divorcing when their kids were addicts or terminally ill. He thought about Doug, whether he had a short fuse. On second thought, it was two years ago Brooke knew Todd. A long time to carry a grudge like that.
It was almost noon, and Jack decided to head for the Warners. He texted Moose he was leaving for the day, to call him this evening with an update. Jack checked his image in the mirror and ran a comb through his hair. His maroon tie went well with his pale yellow short-sleeved shirt and charcoal gray pants. He looked pretty good, if he said so himself.
On his way out, he stopped at Jill’s desk and told her he’d be gone the rest of the day.
“Everything okay?” She gave him a half smile.
“Yes, Jill, I’m not gonna commit a crime.”
“Furthest thing from my mind.” She reached for her ringing phone.
. . . . .
On the drive to the Warners, Jack wondered how casual he should act. He struggled between his attraction to Terri Warner and rejecting the idea as too dangerous. He couldn’t get involved with anyone. Who would ever replace Karen? No one, but maybe another woman could blanket the dark gaps of loneliness and grief. He took a deep breath and told himself to get his shit together.
As Jack drove over the melting asphalt, he realized how the abundant live oaks and pecan trees in the neighborhoods offered little relief from the relentless heat. He arrived at the Warner house, parked in front, and checked his reflection in the mirror. The second he stepped from the car, his sunglasses fogged up. He popped a Chick-let from a pack in his pants pocket. Anything to thwart the urge to light up a Marlboro.
Jack’s heart pounded as he walked up the sidewalk. He rang the bell. He waited half a minute and rang again. He looked at his watch. Early, but not unreasonable.
The door opened, and again, Jack was hauntingly unsettled by the sight of Terri Warner.
“You’re early, Lieutenant, but guess I’ll let you in.” She stepped aside and waved him inside.
He felt chagrined. “Sorry, misjudged the traffic.” He caught a whiff of lilac as the woman closed the door. The fragrance evoked memories of his mother’s garden when he was a kid. Too bad lilacs can’t grow in this heat. He reminded himself to focus.
Mrs. Warner led him to the living room where he sat on the same white sofa as yesterday. She looked alluring with her hair tucked behind her ears. Hair like Karen’s. Same color, same texture.
“Would you like something to drink?” She wore a brown silky shirt and leopard-skin print capris. Sparkly tan sandals framed dark maroon painted toenails. Jack felt a tightening in his gut.
“No thanks. Is Bryan home?”
“Not yet. He should be here any time.” She sat several feet away from Jack on the sofa and crossed her legs. That damn lilac aroma made him heady. “So, Lieutenant, do you always make house calls?” She smiled.
Jack couldn’t read her signals. Maybe there weren’t any. He cleared his throat. “No, but sometimes we find people aren’t comfortable coming to the station. More relaxed in their home.”
“I see. More likely to spill the beans.” Her lips resembled Mona Lisa’s.
Jack gazed at her. “Depending if they have beans to spill.”
She held his stare and smiled. “Point taken.”
He shifted position on the sofa. “Mrs. Warner, am I—”
“Terri, please. The way you keep popping in, we may as well be on a first name basis.”
Interesting turn of events. “We’ll see. Now, am I keeping you from something? I can wait for Bryan alone.”
“I have nothing better to do for the moment.” She crossed her legs again. Jack averted his eyes from her manicured toenails. He squirmed. Where the hell was Bryan?
Terri put her arm on the back of the sofa and faced him. “Bryan’s had a hard time in college, has no direction or goals. Keeps changing his major. This is his third school.” She sighed. “Brooke was always the smart one, but you didn’t hear it from me. Bryan was too social. He fooled around in high school, didn’t study much. Doug was ready to kick him out.”
“It takes some guys awhile to settle down. Hope he’ll get back on track.” He wished he could think of something profound to say.
“Do you have children, Lieutenant?” She continued to stare at him.
Jack cleared his throat. “No.” He looked at a large red and black abstract painting above the mantle. He wanted to tell her to call him Jack, but the words stuck in his throat.
Struggling for something to say, he asked, “How long have you lived here?”
“You mean in this house or Richmond?”
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Either one.”
Terri told him they’d moved from Houston fifteen years ago to escape the city and take advantage of lower housing prices and good schools. She asked where Jack grew up, and he told her about his family and childhood in Chicago. Surprisingly, he revealed more to her than to his colleagues in the past six years. He found himself at ease, enjoying the conversation when he heard a car door slam.
“There’s Bryan,” Terri said. “I suppose you want to talk to him in private.”
“It’s probably best.” Jack stood and looked toward the foyer. Terri called out, “Bryan, we’re in here.”
A young man walked in the room carrying a backpack. He was tall, thin, and wore a white U of H t-shirt and baggy
cargo shorts. His short hair was sandy colored, and Jack noticed his resemblance to Brooke.
Terri seemed nonchalant. “Bryan, this is Lieutenant Bailey from the police department. He’s questioning people who knew that guy who was murdered last week.”
Bryan shook Jack’s hand. “Hello, sir. I didn’t know him, so I don’t get—”
“This won’t take long.” Jack looked at Terri. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“I’m going upstairs, so you can stay here,” she answered. She stood and brushed by Jack on her way out, the aroma of lilac floating in the air.
Bryan placed his backpack on the floor beside the sofa. He and Jack sat at opposite ends. He turned sideways and faced the kid.
“Bryan, can you tell me where you were a week ago Tuesday night?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see—I told you, I didn’t know the guy.”
“Todd Kaplan was his name. We’re just asking people who may have had a connection, like Brooke, who worked with him.”
Bryan shook his head. “That was a long time ago; she barely remembers working there.”
“Okay, but I need to know where you were last Tuesday.” The kid seemed confused. Could be faking it.
Bryan shrugged. “Okay, lemme think. I would’ve been at school staying with some buds. I crash at a house they rent off campus maybe two, three times a week. Saves me the drive out here.”
Jack took his notebook from his pants pocket. He flipped it open and handed it and a pen to Bryan. “I’ll need the address and names of the people you stayed with.”
“Jeez, dude, mind tellin’ me what’s with the third degree? I never met the dead guy.”
“I can’t discuss anything at this time. But I can say you’re not the only one being questioned.”
“Must have something to do with Brooke. Totally clueless, man.” Bryan reluctantly wrote the information down in the notebook and handed it back to Jack.