Broken Vows Mystery 03-In Sickness and in Death (8 page)

Again, he remained silent. But my suspicions grew.

“Danny, do you think that lady was your mother?”

“No … maybe. I don’t know.”

“Did you meet her?”

“No. I had to stay in the car.”

“Do you mean your father went to The Cat’s Meow to see her and you waited outside?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Saturday night.”

“What time on Saturday?”

“After nine, I think.”

Ray had said that Josie didn’t come to work for the last several days. Did that include Saturday night? I was tempted to get him out of bed to ask, but I wanted to keep Danny talking for as long as he was willing.

“Was your dad driving his Camry?”

No answer once again, which was as good as a “yes.” But the Camry with the arm in the trunk hadn’t been stolen until Monday. Or was that just the day the used car lot discovered it was missing? They probably didn’t work on Sunday. I would have to ask Ray.

“Why do you think she might be your mother?”

“Because that’s the name my dad used to have on his tattoo.”

“Josie?”

“Yes.”

I pictured the heart tattoo with the sword running through it and the blacked-out banner underneath. I should have realized the blacked-out banner represented a lady who had fallen out of favor with her knight in shining armor. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did your dad ever say your mom’s name was Josie?”

“No, but he said he loved Josie. And once he told me that he loved my mom.”

I didn’t want to argue with Danny’s logic, but it was possible his father had loved two different women in one lifetime. He’d probably loved many if he and Danny moved around a lot. If Ray didn’t know Danny’s mother’s name, I could ask his school for the name on the birth certificate. I hoped they would tell me.

If it was Josie Montalvo, then Danny’s father would be tied to her murder by virtue of their relationship. If it wasn’t, his visit to The Cat’s Meow might be enough to connect him to the murder. And if convicted of murder, Danny might never live with his father again.

That might be for the best, but I sure didn’t want to be the one to separate them. Danny seemed to love his father, and from all appearances, his father loved him. Could a man capable of killing and chopping up a woman also feel love? I preferred to think not.

“Danny, how long did your father have his white Camry?”

“He bought it on Saturday.”

“Were you with him?”

“No. He left me at Chuck E. Cheese’s while he went to pick it up.”

“By yourself?”

“Why not?”

If tested, I could think of a hundred reasons why not. I kept them all to myself. “No reason. So when he picked you up, he was driving his new Camry?”

“Yes.”

“Then you went to The Cat’s Meow?”

In the dim light, I saw him nod.

“And you waited outside. Then what?”

“My dad took me to his friend’s house and dropped me off.”

“You slept there?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the friend’s name?”

Danny crinkled his brow. “I don’t remember.”

Must not be a close friend. Who would leave their child with a virtual stranger? Mr. Phillips’ parenting style hit rock bottom in my estimation. “Where did your dad go?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did he pick you up again?”

“He was there in the morning when I woke up.”

So Danny’s father may have had the opportunity and means to kill Josie Montalvo. Did he have a motive, too? What a nightmare. Poor Danny. He had no idea the information he’d shared could lock his father away forever.

“Jolene?”

“Yes, Danny?”

“I’m cold.”

I stood and gathered the covers from the end of his bed. “Let me tuck you back in. It’s too early to get up.”

“Okay.” He laid his head on the pillow while I pulled the sheet and blanket up to his neck. I bent over and kissed his cheek. “Go back to sleep, Danny.”

His voice was small when he replied “okay.”

I scurried across the cold wooden living room and kitchen floors to slide back in bed beside Ray. I pushed on his shoulder. No response.

I pushed again, whispering his name. The man could sleep through a bomb raid.

He rolled over and threw his arm over my chest. “Go back to sleep, Darlin’.”

I kept my voice to a whisper so Danny wouldn’t hear me. “I can’t sleep, Ray. I need you.”

He massaged my breast. “Mmmm.” He nuzzled my neck and started to move downwards.

I shoved his shoulder again. “Ray, I need to talk to you about Danny.”

He lifted his head. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing.”

Ray dropped back onto his pillow. “Then why wake me up? I’m tired.”

By the time I finished whispering to him, he wasn’t tired anymore. In fact, he jumped out of bed, showered, and pulled on his uniform.

“I’m going to have another talk with Danny’s father and the bartender at The Cat’s Meow.”

“It’s only five a.m., Ray. I’m sure the bartender’s not there. He just went home a few hours ago.”

“I’ve got his home address.”

I’m sure the guy would be thrilled to have Ray wake him minutes into his R.E.M. sleep.

Then I started to worry Danny’s information sharing would make his father angry with him. “Can you keep Danny out of it? I don’t want his father to feel betrayed.”

Ray pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t worry. One thing I’m sure about with this case is Danny’s father loves him. I doubt anything can change that.”

“What else are you sure about?”

“That we have a dismembered dead woman floating around somewhere.”

Ray worked the next
three days, interviewing everyone connected to The Cat’s Meow, the car dealership, and Danny’s father, of course, who exercised his right to remain silent. In conjunction with the State Police and the next county, Ray’s department combed the area surrounding The Cat’s Meow and Josie Montalvo’s apartment, looking for her body. They found nothing.

The bartender at The Cat’s Meow, however, did confirm that Danny’s father had spoken at length to Josie Montalvo Saturday night, the last night she reported to work. His impression was the conversation had been intense, but not violent, although he had no idea what they talked about.

In the meantime, Ray left Danny at home with me and the instruction not to watch television. He hid the stolen Nintendo DS.

I felt like I was the one being punished. I didn’t know what to do with a twelve-year-old. After two days of washing windows, cupboards, baseboards, and anything else I could think of as well as sorting out old clothes and accumulated magazines and mail, all the easy jobs were done in our tiny two-bedroom bungalow. I couldn’t bear the thought of stripping and waxing the wood floor even though it needed TLC.

We played Monopoly. Danny won twice. We played Scrabble. I won, by a landslide. Danny refused to play again. We played crazy eights. The game lasted two hours. Then I needed to get out of the house.

So I took advantage of the library’s Sunday hours and let Danny roam the stacks.

Fifteen minutes later, he asked if he could check out some movies. I knew the movies wouldn’t go over with Ray.

“Didn’t you find any books that interest you?”

“No.”

“What about this?” I pulled a Hardy Boys book off the shelf.

He curled his lip.

I took offense. I’d loved the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew as a child. I tried not to snarl at him. “What are you interested in?”

“Cars.”

Couldn’t fault him for that.

I asked the librarian for books about cars. She led us to the non-fiction area. Danny agreed to read books about racing and race car drivers. I breathed a sigh of relief and took him home.

While Danny read, I hid in the closet we called an office and surfed the Internet for more Caterhams as well as individuals interested in purchasing a Ferrari. I felt certain the Ferrari would sell someday, but to someone who hadn’t heard of its history. Since our town loved to gossip, only an out-of-towner might not hear. I say “might” because those gossip vine tendrils can grow for miles.

The phone rang around five o’clock.

“The butterflies are so pretty.”

“Erica? Where are you?”

“See the blue one?”

Panic clamped onto my heart and gave it a painful squeeze. “Erica, answer me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “Mom, where are we?”

I gripped the phone tighter. Erica had never addressed our mother within my hearing, not since Mom died, of course. “Erica, are you home?”

“No-o-o-o.”

“Are you in a house?”

“It’s dark.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Lying.”

“On a bed?”

“Cold. Where are my clothes?”

My hand shook. The phone struck my temple. She hadn’t gotten her medication fast enough. She was either hallucinating or talking in her sleep. She’d been known at times to walk, talk, and chew gum while asleep. No one could say she wasn’t a woman of many talents. “Is there a window?”

“Y-e-e-s.”

“Okay, Erica, get up and go to the window. Look outside and tell me what you see.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My wrist is stuck.”

“On what?”

“Ahhh …”

Clearly, she was stumped. “Okay, Erica, hold on.”

I ran from the office into the living room and grabbed my purse, fumbling for my cell phone with one hand. I hit speed dial for Ray’s cell.

Danny watched me from the couch, his brow furrowed.

I turned my back to him.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Ray, Erica called me from this number.” I checked the caller readout and repeated the incoming phone number to him. “She doesn’t know where she is. She’s completely out of it.”

I could hear him keying into a computer, looking for the address to go with the number.

“Keep her on the phone. I’m on my way.”

I clicked my cell phone shut. “Erica, honey, Ray is coming to get you. Just sit tight.”

Nothing. “Erica? Erica? ERICA?”

All I got in response was a dial tone.

____

Ray called twenty minutes later. “It’s a motel room. She’s not here. There’s no sign of her. The desk clerk says he didn’t see her, but four different guys checked in today. Glen Burton, Maurice Boor, Richard Scott, and Mickey Dean.”

“Mickey Dean’s is a restaurant.”

“I know. The names may all be aliases.”

I didn’t think so. “Is Boor spelled B-o-o-r?”

“Yes.”

“Erica went to high school with a Maury Boor. He used to put notes in her locker all the time. He freaked her out, always calling and asking her on dates.”

“I don’t know him.”

I pulled the phone book out of a drawer and thumbed through it. Maurice Boor wasn’t listed, nor anyone else with the same name. Just my luck, his family had moved away. “I think he was a year younger than Erica, so six years younger than us.”

“What does he look like?”

“I haven’t seen him in years. In high school, he was short and scrawny with dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Sort of geeky.” I would have to dig out Erica’s old yearbooks to find his picture.

“The desk clerk couldn’t remember which guy was which, but he said two of them were dark-haired, one balding, one with a gray ponytail. All of them were taller than him, and he’s around five-eight.”

Maybe Maury had a growth spurt after high school. “Are any of them in their rooms?”

“No. This is an hourly sort of motel, Darlin’. It’s about a mile from The Cat’s Meow. They draw their regular crowd.”

“Can you go see if she’s there?”