Broken Vows Mystery 03-In Sickness and in Death (20 page)

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 substitute. 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.

But this time, oddly enough, Ray didn’t seem to think so. “I’m more interested in your friend, Leslie. I’m going to talk to her.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that her driver’s license says she’s a male, not a female.”

“That’s not a crime, is it?”

“No, Jolene, it’s not a crime.”

“If you pull in her driveway, you’re going to scare her to death.”

“Only if she’s guilty of something.”

“Ray, everyone slows down when they see a sheriff’s car behind them on the highway, even when they’re not speeding. Everyone stops to look when a sheriff’s car drives down their street. A sheriff’s car in her driveway will scare her. She’ll think you’re coming with bad news or something.”

“So what’s your suggestion?”

“Come pick me up, and we’ll ride out there together in the Lexus. I’ll introduce you to her.” Leslie was my new friend. I couldn’t sic Ray on her without feeling guilty. This way, I could help frame the questions and draw some conclusions about her for myself. Because Ray was right about me as usual, I did like playing amateur detective. Cory and Danny would never miss me.

Ray’s tone turned sarcastic. “And what reason will we give for stopping by?”

I thought for a moment. “Fresh brown eggs.”

The country roads leading
to the Flynn farm curved and tilted and rolled up and down and all around. Ray swooped through every turn and rocketed over every hill, clearly enjoying the opportunity to drive my Lexus. At times we were airborne, and Ray would let out a little whoop like he was enjoying the thrill ride. I, on the other hand, felt carsick.

We passed a Mennonite farmhouse. I knew this because of the lack of electrical wiring to the house, the black buggy parked in front of the barn, and the long line of ankle-length, flowered-print dresses, blue jeans, and dress shirts on their laundry line. A quarter mile farther down the road, I spotted the farmer running his tractor in the field. He waved from the cab of his tractor when I looked at him. He wore a black hat even inside the cab. I wondered, as I often had, why tractors were acceptable to them while a car was not.

I asked Ray.

“They lead a simple life. I think cars are considered distracting, showy, and unnecessary.”

I��d never make it in their world. Neither would Ray.

Leslie’s family farm overlooked the lake with a magnificent view of both the water and the hills surrounding it. Their white Victorian home with black shutters and covered porches on the front and side had very little adornment other than electrical wires, but perhaps that was due to the time of year. It also had no landscaping. The grass grew to the home’s edges and a couple feet up the sides, brown with the onset of winter. Their driveway was gravel and mud. The red barn to the right of the house listed to one side. The steel barn behind it held most of the cows, while farm equipment rusted in between the steel structure and another low, ramshackle building covered with tar paper. Brown pastures fenced with barbed wire reached far back into the property.

Horse droppings lined the road abutting the Flynn’s front yard. Perhaps a gift from their neighbor and one of the negatives associated with the Mennonites’ simple horse and buggy life.

As Ray pulled into the drive, I pointed with glee to the sign at the end of the drive offering fresh brown eggs for two dollars a dozen.

He rolled his eyes and parked behind the black Ford 4x4 in the driveway. The bed of the truck was filled with buckets, bags, tools including a hoe and an axe, and clumps of hay. A hunting rifle hung in the rear window. Clearly, this was Leslie’s work vehicle, unlike the shiny yellow Mustang, which was nowhere in sight.

We climbed out of the Lexus and stood, waiting for someone to greet us.

A thin gray dog the size of a miniature horse appeared from the barn and trotted closer, sniffing our pant legs. Ray reached down to give him a pat on the head. The dog bounded away, snarling then barking an alarm.

“Quiet you!” A screen door slammed behind us. Leslie walked toward us, wearing her Carhartts and work boots, minus the new wig and makeup. She flashed her newly veneered smile.

“Hey, Jolene. Never mind Rufus. He’s just a grump.” She sized Ray up, her gaze lingering on his gun holster. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is my husband, Ray Parker.”

Ray held out his hand. Leslie wiped hers on her pant leg before shaking with him.

I flashed my best saleswoman smile at her. “I told Ray you had fresh brown eggs. We thought we might buy a dozen.”

Leslie glanced from my face to Ray’s and back again, seeming puzzled. “Never had one before?”