In Sickness And In Death Part 17

"What do you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "Mindy used the restroom at the Coachman when we had lunch there the other day. She noticed the feet in the stall next to her were facing the toilet while the person peed, not away from it like a lady who sits down. Mindy waited by the sinks. Your friend Leslie came out of the stall."

I didn't know what to say.

Celeste's lips compressed into a thin line of distaste. "I swear when she came into the dining room and hugged me, I felt a Willie. A big one."

Celeste had comparisons too numerous to name, including quite possibly my own father. I only had Ray. I clutched my bag of donuts even tighter, speechless.

She shrugged. "So you knew. You've always been open to the alternative lifestyles."

I could not, would not, discuss this any further. I needed a distraction. "Ah ... my tan pants I bought the other day got ruined in the grocery store parking lot. Would you have another size four?"

"Let me check." Celeste disappeared into the clothes racks.

I sank down into the armchair by the dressing room. Leslie Flynn, a man? That would explain her size, homely appearance, and deep voice, but what about this guy she wanted to attract? Was she changing teams in every way?

Contrary to Celeste's catty statement, it wasn't that I was open to alternative lifestyles. I was more oblivious and uninterested-and I thought those things were private. I never discussed my feelings about Ray with anyone. It would make me feel disloyal to him. I certainly didn't discuss our s.e.x life with anyone. That would make it less ... special. It was supposed to be only between us, wasn't it? Ray was my first and only, but I knew other people approached s.e.x differently, some very differently. In theory, I got the concept. h.e.l.l, I even watched HBO. But in practice, in the real world ... ultimately, it was none of my business.

Celeste reappeared, holding my replacement tan pants.

I pulled my credit card from my wallet and offered it to her.

She smiled, clearly pleased to be selling me the same pair of pants twice within forty-eight hours. Dollar signs may have flashed on her eyeb.a.l.l.s like the readout on a one-armed casino bandit. I thought I heard a ca-ching.

We finished the transaction without further conversation. Maybe she thought we had nothing left to say. It was more likely that she knew she'd shocked me, and she didn't want to break her spell. She did thank me when she handed me the bag. I thanked her, too. Then I ran.

Danny was in the garage with Cory when I returned to the shop. I handed out donuts and napkins and headed for my office to think.

As I walked into the room the phone rang. It was Ray.

"I checked on Leslie Flynn's brother. I don't find any record of him."

"What do you mean? I just talked to them both on the phone."

"The brother doesn't have a current driver's license or a New York State identification card. The only vehicles registered to their address are registered to Leslie."

Strange, especially considering Leslie's plans to leave Wachobe. If her brother didn't drive, how would he get around? Surely running a farm required leaving it on occasion for supplies. Maybe the bookkeeper she wanted to hire would provide his transportation as well.

I had one more question for Ray. "What kind of vehicles does Leslie have?"

"A yellow Mustang convertible and a Ford pick-up truck."

"That makes sense. One for farming, one for fun."

Ray heaved a sigh, sending a crackle over the line.

"One thing doesn't make sense, Darlin'. Leslie's driver's license says she's male."

That confirmed it. I filled Ray in on Celeste and Mindy's observations. "Leslie did say she was seeing Dr. Albert for the last few months. Maybe she has some kind of gender issue."

Ray sighed. "I'm wondering if she even has a twin. Based on this picture, she'd make one b.u.t.t-ugly woman. Maybe she's a split personality."

I could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't look forward to confronting that. His training for the sheriff's department only covered so much. I decided not to mention Leslie's new, improved femininity. My makeover efforts only made it harder for him to recognize her now from the driver's license photo. "Can you call Dr. Albert and ask him about her?"

"Dr. Albert won't tell me anything, Darlin'. Not unless Leslie poses a danger to herself or someone else."

"I've had my doubts about his treatment of Erica. Maybe he doesn't know Leslie's a danger." Frankly, after spending time with her, I would be surprised to learn she was, but I didn't want to rule it out.

"Let me see what I can find out about her. I'll take this DMV photo over to The Cat's Meow when they open at noon and see if any of the girls can link Leslie to Josie ... I mean Jessica James. In the meantime, you sit tight."

That was easy for him to say, but oh so hard for me to do. I paced the showroom, circling the Ferrari until I got dizzy. When Cory left for lunch, I took Danny out for pizza. He talked about what he'd worked on with Cory that morning. I pretended to listen, all the while thinking about Leslie. When we got back to the garage, he ran off to see Cory. I went into the garage and peered over Cory and Danny's shoulders as Cory explained the steps involved in taking the dent out of Brennan's Mercedes. They tried to ignore me. I clicked around the Mercedes, running my hand over its lines.

Finally, Cory had enough. "What's wrong, Jo?"

"I'm waiting for Ray to call me."

He glanced at Danny and apparently decided not to ask any more questions.

I rocked back and forth on my heels.

Cory glared at me. The garage was his territory. The showroom was mine. I could tell he wanted me to leave them to work in peace.

The phone rang.

I ran out of the garage, skated through the showroom, and slid to a stop behind my desk in time to catch the call on the third ring. "What'd you find out?"

"Is this Asdale Auto Imports?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. This is Jolene As ... Parker, the owner. Can I help you?"

"This is Maury Boor."

My heart skipped a beat. I sank on to my chair. "Emerson Maurice Boor?"

"Just Maury, please."

"Maury, I've been looking all over for you. Is Erica with you?"

"Yes."

"Can I speak to her?"

"She can't talk now."

I shot to my feet. "What do you mean, she can't talk now? Where are you?"

"I can't say. I promised Erica." He sounded defensive.

"I want to talk to my sister, and I want to talk to her now, Maury. Otherwise, I'm going to have you arrested for kidnapping."

"I didn't kidnap Erica. I married her. She's sleeping right now."

My legs buckled. I fell back into my chair. Did he say he married her? She'd never gone as far as to marry anyone before, although she'd spoken of it often enough. Maybe Maury was delusional. Or maybe he was just lying. "Wake her up and put her on, Maury. I need to speak to her. Now!"

"No! She's right, you don't care about her." His voice was filled with disgust.

I saw red. No, I didn't care about her. All the fights I had with Ray to convince him to allow Erica to live with us. All the times I'd dragged her out of some bar or out from underneath some sleazy guy. All the bills I'd paid. All the nights of sleep I'd lost. All those visits to the psych center to hold her hand while she got better. I wanted to reach right through the phone and take all my frustrations out on Maury with one well-placed punch.

But that wasn't possible. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to reason with him. "I haven't seen my sister in days, Maury. Her apartment is trashed. She left her medicine. I need to know that she's okay."

"She's not."

My throat constricted. I choked out, "How so?"

"She just sits in a chair all day. She won't eat. She won't leave the room. She won't let me touch her." His voice strangled.

A tear burned my eye. I blinked it away, fighting to remain calm. "Maury, you're a nice guy. You were always nice to Erica in high school. I know you care about her. She needs to come home. She needs to see her doctor. She needs her medicine. She needs medicine every day, Maury, or she can't function well. She has to have her medicine. Do you understand?"

"She doesn't want to come home."

"Then you have to make her, Maury. Or call an ambulance. The paramedics will take her to a hospital to be evaluated."

"No! She'd never forgive me."

"She'll forgive you, Maury. She always forgives me. She just doesn't like to admit that she needs help. Please, you can't take care of her alone. She needs medical attention. Just tell me where you are. I'll come and help you. Please, Maury. She's my baby sister." I blinked as tears flooded my eyes.

"I'll talk to her."

The phone beeped incessantly in my ear. He'd hung up.

I checked the incoming number record. It read "private caller."

I rested my forehead in my hands. Tears washed my palms.

Erica was my baby sister. In fact, I thought of her as my baby, period. I'd been responsible for her since she was seven and I was twelve. I was the one she came to when she was in pain, for all the comforting hugs, band-aids, and love she needed. Why had she picked Maury, of all people, to turn to now?

The familiar wave of guilt arrived in a rush. Because I hadn't been there for her. For months, I'd thought only of myself. I'd let her down. Everyone needed someone to count on. I had Ray and Cory and my college roommate Isabelle, who I'd call now except for the fact her family was on a two-week holiday cruise. But Erica only had me, and I hadn't been there for her. So she'd found herself a subst.i.tute. Maury.

I grabbed a tissue and dried my eyes. Too bad Maury was a wacko. No doubt he wanted her to love him as much as she needed him to care about her. But would he love her enough to bring her home or at least call the doctor?

The phone rang again. I grabbed it. "Maury?"

Two seconds ticked by before I heard a response. "No, Jolene, it's Ray."

"Oh, Ray." I couldn't get the words out fast enough to explain. He made me slow down and repeat myself.

"He called this line within the last ten minutes?"

"Yes."

"Let me see what I can find out from the phone company. I'll call you right back."

I hung up and watched the clock tick. One minute, two, three, five, eight.

The phone rang again.

"It was a cell phone. There's no quick way to know where he was calling from now."

I pounded on my desk in frustration. "Erica needs her medication, Ray."

"I know, Darlin'. Maury will figure that out soon enough. You know how she is when she's depressed. He'll do the right thing. Give him time."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will."

"What if he's a killer?"

"Jolene, we have no reason to believe he's responsible for Jessica James' death."

I thought back over the last two weeks. Something bothered me. Something Gumby said the night Danny and I visited his father at the county jail- "What about the flowers?"

"What flowers?"

"Gumby said Jessica James' kitchen table had flowers on it. What if Maury gave her roses, too? That would tie him to the murder."

When Ray spoke, I could hear the irritation in his tone. "They weren't roses. It was live houseplants, an African violet and some other white flower. I know you like to play amateur detective, Jolene, and I'm relieved to see you taking an interest in something other than ..."

I filled the silence with the word "Myself."

"Exactly, but do you really think I'd miss a clue like a bouquet of roses? Do you?"

"I'm sorry, Ray." And I was sorry, for more than questioning him. I was sorry for checking out the last few months, for ignoring my sister, my business, and my few but valuable friends-Cory, Isabelle, and of course, Ray, who did double duty as my best friend and husband. "I just can't believe Erica actually married Maury."

"Let's wait until we hear confirmation about that from her. It doesn't sound like the marriage got consummated, even if she did say 'I do'."

I didn't appreciate the mental image his words brought to mind. I did, however, like the possibility of an out for Erica.

For the moment, I hung my hopes on that technicality and remembered what Ray had originally set off to investigate. "Did you find out anything at The Cat's Meow about Leslie?"

"Just confirmation of what we already knew. Her brother comes there often, and she was there last week, for the first time, to cover his bounced check."

"Has her brother ever ... touched any of the girls?"

"Apparently not. He sits in the back row, buys the expected number of drinks per hour, and tips well. Erica was the first person who ever paid much attention to him, from what the girls said. They think he's shy."

"Oh." A quiet one, automatically a suspect.