Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 07 - Vague Images (8 page)

“Now what do they say?”

“I think they’re a little embarrassed about how virulent they were in describing her. A woman who works at Fries Place on the boardwalk kind of kidded them about whether they had a contract out on her, and they said it wasn’t them.”

“That’s kind of callous,” I said.

Ramona shrugged. “No one knew her well, and what they knew they didn’t like.”

“So that’s all you’ve heard?”

Ramona pushed her glasses further up on her nose. “Are you snooping?  Why?”

“Not really
. It was just…unpleasant finding her.”

“If you won’t be deterred, at least be careful this time.”

I’m always careful. Sometimes people around me aren’t.

I HADN’T BEEN TOTALLY honest with Lucas. I planned to tell Megan, our most regular volunteer, that a young man was looking for his sister, who was probably stressed out because of their mother’s death.

I lucked into a parking space at the side entrance to First Prez
. It’s a traditional Protestant church made of brick, with white trim and steeple. Aunt Madge said they’ve been offered what she called substantial sums to sell the land and rebuild the church on the edge of town. I doubt that will happen. My commercial real estate background tells me the lot isn’t large enough to make housing a worthwhile investment, and there probably would not be enough space for parking for an office building. Even if someone could figure out how to make the parcel profitable, Ocean Alley’s zoning laws have kept the town from becoming a condo community, and they probably always will.

Behind the church itself is an attached flat-roofed building that houses Sunday School classrooms, plus a large community room and the food pantry
. One door of the pantry opens to the street and another to the hallway by the community room. The pantry looks like a dry cleaner’s shop except with shelves of food behind the counter instead of racks of clothes.

I was sitting in a tall swivel chair with a back, my injured foot propped on the food pantry counter
. I had a clipboard with our monthly food order form for the food bank in Lakewood, and Megan was unpacking a box of donated canned goods.

“You know,” Megan said, “this girl he’s looking for is close to my Alicia’s age.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

Megan pointed at my foot
. “You have other things on your mind.”

“The swelling’s down
. I’m going to try putting weight on it for real this evening.”

Megan nodded, thinking
. “There are a couple of places, non-alcohol places, that the high school kids hang out.”

“Besides the diner?”

“They wouldn’t be caught dead in there. Teachers and parents go there. No, there’s a place on the far north end of Ocean Alley that’s set up like a bar, but it sells food, coffee, soft drinks. You have to be under twenty-one. They’ll let people a bit older in if they’re dating someone younger.”

“Why didn’t I know about that place?”

“You don’t have kids. It’s called Step ‘n Go. They do some dance lessons, too, I think.”

“How do they get enough money to stay in business?”

“Technically it’s a club and costs $30 a year. The kids can pay in small amounts.”

“Scoobie probably knows,” I said.

“Alicia’s talked to him about it. That’s why I figured you might know.”  She looked at me intently for a second, and then went back to her work.

Megan is a very private person
. She’s a single mom, and I’ve dropped her and Alicia at their apartment, which is not far from First Prez. While Alicia is tall and appears to have some Latin features, Megan is fair. And much more no-nonsense. I could tell Megan was trying to gauge how close Scoobie and I had gotten, but was too polite to ask.

“What about other places?  I know there’s a women’s shelter in Lakewood, but we don’t have one
. Or don’t I know about that?”

“We need one, but no, no shelter here
. A lot of the homeless or runaways go south for the winter.”

I nodded
. “Some must stay, it’s…”

The door that led to the street opened and Sergeant Morehouse walked in
. “Mornin’ ladies.”

We greeted him with a bit of question in our voices
. He’s donated money to Harvest for All, but I couldn’t remember him stopping by.

Morehouse nodded at Megan and turned to me
. “I need to talk to Lucas again. Stopped by your place, but no one home.”

“He’s out,” I said
. Then I remembered I’d never told Morehouse Lucas was staying with me, and I doubted Lucas had told him. “Nuts.”

Morehouse actually smiled
. “No secrets in Ocean Alley. He one of the teens Scoobie’s worked with in that volunteer stuff Reverend Jamison and Father Teehan talked Scoobie into leading?”

This called for quick thinking. I doubted Tortino had told Morehouse who Lucas really was, but Tortino had said that he’d ask officers to watch for Kim
. I opted for partial truth. “Did Lieutenant Tortino ask you guys to keep your eyes open for a girl who’s eighteen but looks sixteen or seventeen?”

He was surprised
. “Yeah. What’s she to him?”

“Sister
. They live in Atlanta and I guess she ran away or something.”

“Or something,” Morehouse almost snorted
. “How’d you end up with him?”

I hesitated
. I wished Scoobie and I had rehearsed a story. Morehouse stared at me and I saw his expression change.
He figured out this is what I talked to Tortino about the day Tortino asked him to leave the office.

“Never mind
. You know where he is?” Morehouse asked.

I glanced at the clock exactly as Lucas walked in the door. He paused for a second and then shut the door.

“Hey, Jolie.”

“Hey, Lucas
. Sergeant Morehouse wants to talk to you again.”

Morehouse was all business
. “Let’s go into one of the church’s conference rooms back there.”  He nodded at the interior door.

“Sure.”  Lucas’ tone was cold and I realized he thought I’d asked him to come here at ten to talk to Morehouse.

The door shut and Megan looked at me. “The guy with the sister?”

“Yes, but he was also on hospital cameras at about the time that woman was killed
. They don’t think he had anything to do with it,” I said, hurrying the last sentence.

As if to contradict me, the interior door opened and Lucas walked the short distance through the pantry, yanked open the door to the street, and left
. Megan and I looked to Morehouse as he walked toward us, shaking his head slightly.

“What did you do to him?” My frown was accusatory.

“Nuthin.’  He’s the only person who was near her in the cafeteria and close to where she was killed.”

“He’s not from here,” I said this as if that should make it clear he had no reason to kill her.

Morehouse adopted the patient tone he sometimes uses with me. I hate it. “No one’s saying he…did anything. It’s just damn odd that a stranger with no reason to be in the hospital was where she was, twice, right before she got killed. He needs to explain better.”

“I was near her in two places.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t walking and she was dead the second time.”

Megan winced.

“Wait. Am I on your tapes?”

“About twenty times
. Good thing you don’t pick your nose.”

Megan laughed as she opened another box to unpack.

I frowned. “I was looking for something.”

“I’m guessing someone and it was that kid.”

I said nothing.

Morehouse put his hand on the doorknob
. “He needs to calm down. Tell him to call me or stop by again.” He looked at me. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

He shut the door, not banging it as Lucas had done, before I could think of a smart comment.

Megan looked at me. “He doesn’t really think Lucas killed her. He’d be a lot more persistent about talking to him.”

I nodded
. The problem was that a lot of people were now very aware of the former Thomas Edward Finch, even if they didn’t know him by that name.

I SAT IN THE hospital parking lot staring at the building in between periodic swishes of the windshield wipers. With Scoobie doing a twenty-hour per week observation this semester, I’d been there more than a few times during the last month. If I was picking him up, I might chat with the Radiology receptionist or grab a drink from the cafeteria and sit in the lobby while I waited. Even so, I didn’t walk through the halls every day, and I certainly didn’t crutch through them.

But I wanted to talk to Nelson Hornsby, and since his wife was maybe still recovering from her treatment, I didn’t want to call him at home. I’d left Harvest for All about eleven-thirty and hoped to catch him in the hospital cafeteria.

Megan had offered to help me practice walking with one crutch, but it still hurt too much to put much weight on my injured foot. I crutched to the front entrance.

The gift shop was near the cafeteria entrance so I thanked the woman who had stored my crutches the other day and browsed the greeting cards
. When Nelson got off the elevator and headed for lunch,I quickly paid for a sympathy car
d
—
which I never have when I want on
e
—
and stuck it in my purse.

He was a couple of people ahead of me in line and had the
Ocean Alley Press
under his arm. The poor guy probably thought he’d get a minute of peace while he ate. To keep my tray light, I bought only a carton of milk and a pre-made vegetarian sandwich with some sort with limp lettuce at the edges. After I paid, I stuck both in my purse so I could refuse any offer to carry the tray.

“May I join you?”  As Nelson started to stand, probably to pull out a chair for me, I added, “Don’t get up
. I’ve gotten to be quite independent with these things.”

“Sure, have a seat.”  His smile was perfunctory.

I put my sandwich on the table and shook the milk. I had forgotten a straw, so I opened the wax container and took a swig.

“Can I get you a cup?  Or a straw?”

I shook my head. “I rarely mind my manners.”

Nelson simply nodded, and took a bite of his lasagna
. For a moment I wondered why he was behaving so coolly, then I remembered Sergeant Morehouse. “Did Sergeant Morehouse tell you who heard you talking to Tanya Weiss?”

His look was appraising
. “No, but you were close when I walked out of the men’s room. I figured it was you.”

“Did he tell you I waited a day?”

He looked surprised. “No. Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to ask Aunt Madge if she thought you could murder someone.”

Nelson raised his eyebrows. “So, what was the verdict?”

“
That you wouldn’t hurt anyone, but Aunt Madge said I had to tell Sergeant Morehouse anyway.”  Nelson raised an eyebrow at me, and I added, “She just meant I couldn’t withhold what I knew.”

“I get that.”  He went back to his lasagna.

“Um. How do you think she got up to that restroom so quickly?”

He stared at me
. “You should probably leave this to the police.”

“I am
. It’s just when you find someone like that…”  I let my words trail off, more for effect than because I couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Of course.”  He seemed to consider that for a moment
. “The police have been asking everyone that. There’s a stairway not far from the entrance to the admin offices. She always made a big deal about how we’d all be in better shape if we took the stairs.”

“Was she obsessed with health stuff?”  I flushed, thinking of Nelson’s somewhat pudgy physique
. “I guess everyone here is.”

“Oh, somewhat.”  His tone was bitter
. “One of her cost-cutting suggestions was to decrease the hospital’s contribution to our health insurance if we smoked or were overweight. Or whatever else wasn’t like her.”

I had taken the limp lettuce off my sandwich, but it had made much of the bread damp, so I was trying to eat only dry parts
. “She didn’t seem to be well liked.”

He looked at me, curious
. “What did you hear?”

“Someone, a friend, said when she made recommendations about cuts that she didn’t ask for a lot of input from staff.”  Okay, Harriet’s not really a friend
. But there has to be some kind of bond when someone pushes you out of the ER in a wheelchair.

Nelson nodded
. “Her focus was definitely on cutting costs.”

I said nothing while he ate his last couple of bites of lasagna.

He stood. “I have a pile of work on my desk. Can I get you something before I go back to my office?”