In Sickness And In Death Part 24

"We went to The Cat's Meow. Everything happened there like I said, except when I came back to the car, it was different. My soda and my backpack weren't in the back seat. My dad's baseball hat was gone, too. I thought somebody took them. My dad came out. He thought he'd lost his remote. He looked all over the car. He noticed our stuff was gone. He wanted to know what I did with it. I told him nothing. I told him I got out of the car and when I came back, our stuff was gone. He opened the trunk. It was empty. That's when he figured out it wasn't our car, because the trunk had dirt and stuff in it. He went back inside and came out again. He said we couldn't wait for the person who took our car to come back. He said if it was a mistake, they might call the police and when the police checked, they would know it was stolen. He said if they took it on purpose, then one stolen car was as good as another. He said we'd get new stuff. My backpack had all my school stuff in it, but he said I'd be starting a new school anyway. So we left."

Danny took a swig of his soda before continuing. "My dad dropped me off at his friend's house so he could go get Aunt Jessica's car. He drove me to school the next morning in it. It was awesome. Then he got caught. Aunt Jessica reported it stolen too soon."

Timing was everything. I could imagine Danny's father's surprise when the sheriff's department cruiser pulled him over. I wondered if she had done it on purpose to spite him for some old wound or if it had been an honest mistake. Jessica wouldn't be able to tell us now.

"Jolene?"

I snapped out of my reverie. "Yes, Danny?"

"My dad didn't kill Aunt Jessica. He doesn't know who did."

"Where's the Camry your father took from The Cat's Meow?"

"In a parking lot." Danny jerked his head in the direction of the interrogation rooms. "He's going to tell them where to find it. Do you think they'll go get it?"

"I hope so, Danny."

"My dad said he would tell them who he sold all the stolen cars to. He thought they might let him go, but then we found out about Aunt Jessica." Danny's eyes filled with tears. "Do you think they'll believe him?"

I put my arm around Danny and hugged his shoulders. "I hope so."

The pressure on this poor little boy proved to be too much. He dissolved into heaving sobs.

I held him tighter and rubbed his back. He was asking the right questions. Would they believe his father? Would they want to talk to Danny, too? Maybe I shouldn't take him home yet. Maybe we should wait until they were through. But it could take hours. Then they might not want to talk to Danny. His father had had enough time with him now to coach him on this story. It did sound a little too good to be true, but then truth is stranger than fiction. Could the mix-up at The Cat's Meow be an innocent but ironic mistake? Or had the killer taken the opportunity to tie someone else to the victim?

The fact remained that someone with the initial P like Danny's father had most likely switched his car for the one Danny's father stole from the used car lot. It could have been managed by sitting next to Danny's father at the bar and laying the two sets of keys side by side. Did he do it on purpose or was it a mistake? Did the P stand for the man's first name or his last? Was it P for Peter Flynn, Leslie's brother? Had he been in The Cat's Meow Sat.u.r.day night, the last night anyone remembered seeing Jessica James? Could he be the killer?

Hard to believe. The man didn't even have a driver's license, and Ray had said the DMV records didn't show a Toyota Camry registered to anyone at Leslie and Peter's home address.

Besides, Ray said the sheriff's department interviewed all the regulars. Surely Peter was on the list. I wondered who else might be on the list with the initial P. Maybe Ray worked with the lead investigators to check those names out.

The only positive spin I could put on the whole story was that this killer with the initial P who took Danny's father's car couldn't be my sister's new husband, Emerson Maurice Boor. He drove a Prelude and didn't have an initial P. Unless, of course, the P stood for Prelude. Wouldn't that be a pip? Maury might just be weird enough to think that way, but I hoped not.

Danny pulled away and wiped at his face with his fists. I dug in my purse and handed him a couple of tissues. He blew his nose loud and long like a foghorn.

The interrogation room door opened. Ray stepped out.

He crossed the room to us. "Take Danny home, Darlin'. I'll see you in the morning."

Danny stepped away from us. "What about my dad?"

Ray reached for Danny's shoulder. "Your dad is talking. He's got a lot to say, and we've got a lot of questions. Don't worry. We'll get it all straightened out."

Danny frowned, clearly doubtful.

I had doubts myself. "Why don't you go splash some water on your face in the men's room, Danny? Then we'll go home."

He shuffled off, his shoulders drooping. It was so unfair that a twelve-year-old should have to bear such a burden. Danny seemed so much older than his years.

I turned to Ray. "He told me the whole story. What's going to happen now?"

"We're going to send a patrol car to find the Camry. We'll see if we can figure out who it belongs to and we'll round him or her up for questioning."

"What about Danny's father?"

Ray shrugged. "He's definitely guilty of auto theft, but if he helps bust up a ring, he might be able to avoid a jail sentence. And if what he says is true about the Escalade, I'm not sure the D.A. will prosecute since his aunt left all her property, including the car, to Danny."

"So he might be released?"

"Anything's possible, but one thing's for sure. We're one step closer to finding our killer."

Ray hadn't come home by the time Danny and I needed to leave for school the next morning. Danny begged me to let him take the day off. I tried to call Ray at the department and on his cell phone, but he didn't answer. I left a message, wondering what was so pressing that he'd been up all night. But I insisted Danny go to school, telling him it would only make the time pa.s.s that much faster. Besides, he had a spelling test and a geography test to take, and I didn't want him kicked out of school.

When I pulled into the school turnaround, I shut off the ignition and looked over my shoulder at Danny. He made no move to get out of the car.

"Danny, I'll pick you up today same as always. By then, we should know what's going on. Just do your best in school, and don't worry. Your dad will be fine."

He met my gaze with anguish in his eyes. "I told my dad about my suspension and about taking Erica's car. He didn't get mad. He was too worried about Aunt Jessica."

"Well, now that he's told the truth, he shouldn't have to worry about that anymore. When they find the other Camry, it should lead them to the person who killed her. And that's not your dad, right?"

Danny nodded then his lips turned up in a rueful grin. "I told my dad what you said."

Surprised, I tried to recall what it might have been. "What'd I say?"

"You know."

"I'm not sure what you're referring to. I say a lot of things, Danny."

"When you said, 'What were ya thinkin'?' You know, when I took Erica's car and when I got in the fight."

"Oh." I smiled. "What did he say?"

"He said that was a good question. He wanted to know the answer."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I wasn't thinking."

An honest answer. How often do we all do things without thinking them through? At twelve, Danny was ent.i.tled to a few more mistakes than we adults. "Okay, well, listen, think hard when you're taking your tests today, so you can tell your dad all about your good grades later. I'm sure Ray will take you to see him tonight."

Danny's face brightened considerably. He hopped out of the car without another word. Two boys approached him and greeted him. They headed toward the building together, scuffing their feet and talking.

As I watched Danny walk into the building, my cell phone rang. I thought it might be Ray, but when I checked the display, I didn't recognize the number.

"h.e.l.lo?"

I waited, straining my ears and thinking it must be a wrong number. "h.e.l.lo?"

I heard a sigh. I knew that sigh. "Erica?"

More silence. "Erica, if it's you, say something. Otherwise, I'm going to hang up and I won't answer again."

"It's me. Who else do you know in the tower?"

"I didn't recognize the number."

"You should have it memorized by now."

I tried not to respond in the same combative manner she was addressing me. It was hard, because I was the one with the right to be p.i.s.sed. Erica had stopped taking her medicine, failed to show up for her doctor's appointments, lost her job, and run away to marry a geek. I swallowed hard and tried to be congenial. "I take it you're feeling better."

"I hate it here."

"What does Dr. Albert say? How long do you have to stay?" I left off the words "this time."

"He might let me come home in a couple days, if someone stays with me to monitor my medication."

For the last fifteen years, that would have been me or Ray. Now Maury was in the picture. "Did you marry Maury?"

Another sigh, this time heavy enough to make the line crackle. "Yes."

"How do you feel about that?"

"You sound like Dr. Albert. You know, I don't like Dr. Albert anymore. He's really not even that good-looking."

He was, but again, I didn't want to argue. "What about Maury, Erica? Are you planning on living with him?"

"Of course. He's my husband."

"So, you love him?"

She heaved another sigh. "Of course."

Her response didn't make me feel any better. It was the same response I would have gotten if I asked her if she wanted me to bake chocolate chip cookies. "You're going to live in the apartment where I found you?"

This time she hesitated. "Can we live in the apartment on Wells Street?"

"Sure, if you can afford it." I hated to start trouble, but I wasn't going to pay Maury's bills. He would have to step up.

Erica caught my less than subtle implication. "Maury got a new job."

"Where?"

"He's going to be a delivery man for a florist shop."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That sounds like a great job for him."

I doubted it would pay the rent, but Erica could get another job, too. She never had trouble getting jobs, just keeping them. She and Maury had that in common.

Erica continued, "I have to see Dr. Albert once a week. He has an opening on Thursdays starting next week."

"Do you want me to drive you?"

"I can drive myself."

"All right. Cory's fixing the Porsche for you. I'll tell him to hurry."

Erica remained silent so long that I thought she'd hung up. Then she asked, "Do you still have Danny?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure for how much longer." I told Erica the whole story about the stolen cars, Jessica James' death, the possible suspects, and the news from last night. "Ray still hasn't called me. I'm not sure if Danny's father will be released or not. Even if he is, he doesn't have a home or a job, unless he can move into the aunt's house. It seems like he should be required to have both before he can take Danny, but that's up to Social Services, I guess."

Erica wasn't interested in Danny. "That redheaded guy, Peter, he used to visit another psychiatrist in the building on Wednesdays. I talked to him in the elevator sometimes."

"He told you his name was Peter?"

"He told me when I saw him in The Cat's Meow."

The night she asked him if he was big all over. "Are you sure it was the same guy? Leslie was a patient of Dr. Albert's. She saw him once a week. A lot of people get the two of them confused. They're identical twins."

"He recognized me. He said 'h.e.l.lo' first."

I didn't know what to make of that. Could both Leslie and her brother be in treatment? If so, what was Peter being treated for? I started to ask Erica if she knew, but she said the orderly wanted her to hang up.

I tried Ray again. Still no answer at either number. I dialed again and connected with the operator, who said Ray was on patrol. Was he working a back-to-back shift? He was too tired to drive safely. Maybe he'd slept at the office or in his car. Maybe they were so close to solving Jessica James' case that he didn't want to miss it.

I drove home, stopping at the corner store to purchase a newspaper. I wanted to know what, if anything, had been reported about Jessica James' death.

I found no reference to her murder in the local paper. I did spot advertis.e.m.e.nts for two damaged cars, a Mercedes and a BMW, that I would have loved to purchase and have Cory repair for resale in my showroom. Too bad all my inventory dollars were tied up in a very pricey Ferrari with its own ghost riding eternal shotgun.

At home, I tried to watch Regis and Kelly, but even with all their charms, they couldn't hold my attention. Reading a book was out of the question. All my housework had been completed over the weekend.

After checking my cell phone for the tenth time to make sure I hadn't missed Ray's call, I had to get out of the house. I decided to take back the sweaters Celeste had forced on me the other day. After the superior way she'd behaved in my office, I figured I didn't owe her anymore.

I walked into Talbots twenty minutes later with my shopping bag full of sweaters. The a.s.sistant manager, a woman old enough to be my mother, was behind the counter. She greeted me warmly. I could tell she thought she should know my name but it wasn't coming to her.

She found it on the sales receipt. "Oh, you're Jolene Asdale. I'm sorry, Jolene Parker. Someone was just here looking for you."

"Really?" I couldn't imagine why anyone would look for me here. I came in here once a season, if that.

She began entering information in the register and scanning the tags on the sweaters. "She was looking for Celeste, too. She wanted to give you both fresh chickens to thank you for helping her pick out clothes or something like that. I can't remember her name, but she had red hair."

"Was her name Leslie Flynn?"

The a.s.sistant manager nodded. "That's it. Seemed like a nice woman. I told her today was Celeste's day off and that your shop was always closed on Mondays. She said she'd come back tomorrow."

I signed for my return. The woman sealed my old and new receipt in an envelope. She thanked me, as though returning clothes was as helpful to the store as purchasing them. I knew Celeste wouldn't feel that way, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

In my car, I debated between heading home, driving to the county safety building to look for Ray, or calling Leslie Flynn. At home, I'd have nothing to do but look at the walls. Chasing after Ray was not appropriate. He was busy. I needed to respect that. Besides, if the sheriff found out I was following Ray on the job, Ray might get in trouble again. We didn't need that.