Gone for Good (24 page)

She shook her head.

‘So,' I said, ‘if you know all about her marriage to Gordon Baxter, you must know about their daughter, right?'

I knew professional police decorum meant never showing surprise when presented with unexpected information. Post mostly concealed her reaction, but her eyes moved just enough – a twitch or a tic – to tell me that she not only
didn't know about the other Elizabeth, but was quite surprised to hear it.

She didn't answer. So I said, ‘You didn't know, then? Wouldn't you find out if you ran some sort of a background check on my mom?'

‘A juvenile that long ago might not show up in the system. We haven't had computers for ever.'

‘Okay. Well, now you know.'

She hesitated. ‘I'm not sure how it's relevant to the case.'

‘Not relevant?' I asked. ‘My mother's ex-husband has a criminal record, and they also have a daughter who went missing years ago and now has managed to get herself into my mother's will. And that's not relevant?'

Post considered a moment. She closed the folder in her lap and placed it back on the desk. ‘Is there something I need to know about this daughter?'

‘A few things,' I said.

I gave her the whole rundown, from Elizabeth's disappearance in 1975 to her apparent re-emergence into my mother's life sometime in the recent past. I made sure to include the stuff about the will, including Elizabeth Yarbrough's call to the lawyer, as well as my uncle's and Gordon Baxter's assertions that Elizabeth Yarbrough was some kind of grifter taking advantage of my mother and not the rebellious teenager who walked out of their lives thirty-seven years earlier. Post asked a few questions as I went along, mostly just clarifications of minor points. She still didn't take any notes, but she was attentive. When I was finished, she leaned back in her chair, the springs squeaking as she moved.

‘You've
never met this woman?' she asked. ‘This Elizabeth Yarbrough?'

‘Never.'

‘And where is she?'

‘She lives in Reston Point, according to the will. That's all I know.'

‘Hmm,' Post said.

‘Look, you're trying to hang this all on my brother –'

‘Nobody's hanging anything,' she said. ‘We're dealing with the evidence.'

‘Okay. Fine. But you have someone with a criminal record who was getting money from my mother, and you have someone else – someone who was given up for dead long ago – suddenly showing up and working her way into the will. She gets a third now that Mom is gone. Are you telling me that isn't suspicious?'

‘One of your sources against this Yarbrough woman is the guy you also say is a crook. Gordon Baxter,' Post said. ‘Who knows why he's smearing her? And you don't know that
this
woman called the lawyer. And even if she did, I'm not sure what it proves. People call lawyers. Maybe it shows she was after the money. Maybe. But maybe she just had a legitimate question.'

I accepted the dousing of cold water. But I wasn't finished. ‘At least admit it's hard to believe Ronnie killed my mom. Can you just admit that for me?'

‘Can you admit it?' she asked. ‘Do you have any doubts about it?'

‘I do.'

‘You mean you have them now?'

I didn't answer. But she was right, and she knew it.

‘People
kill for all sorts of reasons,' she said. ‘And you'd be surprised at who ends up doing the killing. You may not expect it from them, but they do it. And the one constant, the almost ninety-nine per cent answer to the puzzle is – the killer knew the victim and, in their mind, had a very good reason to do it. So far, I only see your brother fitting that bill. And I have to be honest – this suicide attempt doesn't make things look any better for him. We're still looking at other options, and maybe Elizabeth Yarbrough and Gordon Baxter will factor into that. No charges have been filed yet, of course. But your brother has confessed.'

‘He didn't do it,' I said. ‘Okay, you're right. I have my doubts. Little moments of doubt about Ronnie. Sure. He had outbursts. Apparently Mom felt scared enough to call the police once. That's there. I can't change it. But I know him. I know him. He didn't do it.' I felt I'd been convincing, that I'd stated my case so clearly and strongly no one could refute it.

But Post didn't show much on her face. It was as if I hadn't spoken. Her phone buzzed. This time she picked it up and read the text. She thumbed a quick reply, then turned back to me.

‘I have to go to the hospital now,' she said. ‘I'll follow up over there and put my head together with Detective Richland. We'll see where we stand.'

‘So you believe me, right?' I asked. ‘There's something to all of this stuff I've been saying.'

She stood up and offered me her hand. ‘Thanks for coming by, Elizabeth. We'll be in touch.'

I left the police station and went to Dan's house. I'd started driving in the direction of St Vincent's, but the day's events had left me wiped out. I called Paul to check in, and he told me that Ronnie's condition was the same. He was resting comfortably.

‘You rest too,' he said. ‘You can come here and relieve me later. If anything changes, I'll call.'

I felt guilty about not going to the hospital, but I saw the wisdom in what Paul had said. If I rested just a little, I could be at my best later that night.

I went to Dan's because I didn't feel comfortable returning to my apartment with Gordon Baxter roaming around town. I doubted I could sleep there even if I wanted to.

Dan gave me my space. I was happy to see him and happy to not really have to talk much. He circled around me while I undressed and slid into his bed. In the living room, his computer sat open on his desk, surrounded by an obscenely high stack of library books. The apartment smelled like scorched coffee and frozen pizza. I hoped Dan wouldn't want to crawl into bed with me, not even just to sleep. I really was tired.

‘I'll leave you alone,' he said.

‘Thanks.'

‘But just one question. Is there anything else I need to know? Any other revelations?'

‘Too
many,' I said. ‘I'm sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed by it all now. And I'm tired.'

He pulled the bedroom door shut, and I was asleep before my eyelids closed. I dreamed of my mother. I was inside a house, and she stood outside. Rain poured down, blurring my sight. Mom was drenched. I worried about her because she was so old. I thought she might get sick. Her hands waved around, trying to communicate with me. But I didn't know what she wanted. None of it made sense. I thought,
Just knock on the door. Just come in.

Then someone was knocking. The light from the other room came through the crack as Dan opened the bedroom door. I didn't know where I was or who he was right away. A yelping noise escaped my throat.

‘It's okay,' he said. ‘It's just me.'

I sat up, tried to clear the cobwebs away. I looked at the clock. I'd been asleep for forty-five minutes. Ronnie. I needed to go see Ronnie. Is that why Dan woke me up? To go back to the hospital?

‘I'm awake,' I said.

‘Good. There's someone here to see you.'

‘Someone to see me?'

‘Yes,' Dan said. ‘He's being insistent.'

I still wasn't fully awake. ‘But how does anyone know I'm here?'

‘I don't know. It's some guy.'

I pictured Gordon Baxter, his heavy bulk leaning against the door of Dan's apartment, pushing through it. Coming after me.

‘Who is it?' I asked, hearing the alarm in my own voice.

‘He says he's a student of yours,' Dan said, barely
concealing his disdain. ‘Some tall dude. He says he's your favourite student. Elizabeth, I can get rid of him if you want.'

Then it clicked. I was surprised he hadn't yelled ‘Hey, Teach' from the front door.

I threw the covers back. ‘I need to talk to him.'

I started towards the door, and Dan pointed at me.

‘What?'

‘I think you should wear pants,' he said, his voice dry.

I'd stripped down to my underwear and a T-shirt when I'd crawled into bed. I found my jeans on the floor and pulled them on. Yet Dan was blocking the doorway.

‘Who is this guy?'

‘He's helping me out,' I said. ‘He's doing research.'

‘Is he a grad student?'

‘Not that kind of research. He's looking into Mom's case.'

Dan looked at me without speaking, then finally moved out of the way.

I walked out to the living room but didn't see Neal.

‘Where is he?' I asked.

‘He's outside. Obviously I didn't just let a stranger in.' Dan went to open the door, revealing the tall figure of Neal Nelson. He wore a goofy grin, as though it had been fixed to his face the entire time the door was closed.

‘Is it safe to come in, Teach?'

‘Yeah, come on in.'

He stepped across the threshold. As he did, he gave a sidelong glance at Dan. ‘Your bodyguard was suspicious of me.'

‘He
doesn't know what a fine, upstanding citizen you are.' I pointed to the couch. ‘Want to sit?'

‘Sure.'

But before he could move, I said, ‘Wait a minute. How did you find me here? This isn't my house.'

Neal flung himself down on the couch. ‘Hey, Teach, I told you we were good at what we do.'

‘But –'

‘You have a boyfriend,' he said. ‘I looked up his address. Come on – I have more goodies for you.'

I went over and sat next to him. Dan closed the door. He looked lost, not knowing whether to stay or go.

‘Do you want to sit and listen?' I asked. ‘It might not all make sense.'

‘Do you want something to drink?' Dan asked.

Neal looked at me, then at Dan. ‘I smell coffee. Burnt coffee. I love burnt coffee. Can I have some of that?'

‘I think I have some dregs left in the pot,' Dan said, disappearing to the kitchen.

‘Nice guy,' Neal said when Dan was gone. ‘He really likes you. Dude, I thought he was going to fight me over getting in the door.'

‘He has no idea who you are,' I said. ‘And I thought you didn't drink coffee.'

‘I shouldn't. But when it gets that scorched taste, I can't resist it.'

‘Okay. Did you find something out already?'

‘Of course.'

‘In a day?'

‘Teach, we have this thing called the internet, and it has these things called databases. They tell us most of what
we need to know. A few phone calls to some well-placed friends, and we're there.'

‘Okay,' I said. ‘So get to it.'

‘Just like in class. All business. Which lovely do you want to hear about first? Elizabeth Yarbrough or Gordon Baxter?'

‘Yarbrough,' I said.

Just then Dan came back into the room with a mug of coffee. He set it on the table in front of Neal.

‘Thanks, boss,' Neal said.

‘I'm assuming you don't want any cream or anything,' Dan said.

‘No, no. That would ruin it.' He leaned forward and took a gulp. He smacked his lips. ‘Perfect. I love that burnt taste.' He put the mug down and pulled out his phone. He tapped it a few times until he found what he wanted. ‘Okay, one Elizabeth Yarbrough.' He looked at me. ‘A naughty, naughty girl. Two convictions for drug possession and one for DUI. And, lo and behold, once she even took a fall for solicitation. You know what that means, right, Teach?'

‘You mean … ?'

‘That's right,' he said. ‘She tried to sell her lady parts to an undercover cop.' He scrolled through the phone. ‘Looks like she went through some sort of rehab or diversionary program at some point.'

‘Are these arrests recent?'

‘Nothing in the last five years,' he said. ‘She must have cleaned up or slowed down. But I bet she was fun to party with when she was in her prime.'

‘Does it give any other names she may have used?'

‘She's
used a lot of names,' Neal said. ‘She's had a lot of husbands. Three at least. She's been known as Elizabeth Hayward, Elizabeth Fontroyal – I like that one the best – Elizabeth Stiegerwald –'

‘What about Baxter?' I asked. ‘Elizabeth Baxter?'

Neal nodded. ‘That one too.'

Dan cleared his throat. ‘Who is this person? Did she hurt your mom?'

I hadn't told Dan anything about Elizabeth Yarbrough. Not the will, and certainly not about her – maybe – being my half sister. I hadn't explained it to Neal either.

‘We're trying to find that out, Dan,' I said.

‘Yeah,' Neal said. ‘Have a seat, chief. There's a lot to learn here.'

Dan looked at me, and I shrugged a little. Dan sat down in a chair, his body oozing reluctance.

‘So she did go by Elizabeth Baxter at one point,' I said. ‘And did she live in Haxton?'

‘Sure did.'

‘So do we know that this is the Elizabeth Baxter I'm looking for?'

‘We know she was born in 1960 and lived in Haxton. We know she's Elizabeth Yarbrough now and lives in Reston Point.'

‘So it is her?'

Neal shook his head; now he was the teacher. ‘Not really. All we know is that the woman in Reston Point is using the same social security number as the woman in Haxton. At some point, the only way to tell for sure is to go ID this woman in Reston Point. Technology can only
do so much. Without a picture or DNA or something, it could just be someone using someone else's identity. That happens, you know.'

‘Sure.'

‘You want to hear about this old dude? Gordon Baxter? I'm assuming these two are related, although not married. That would be sick – he's ancient.'

‘I think he's probably sixty-nine,' I said.

‘Seventy,' Neal said. ‘He's been a bit of a son of a bitch too. A couple of arrests.'

‘Larceny and assault,' I said.

Dan looked at me, surprised. Neal started laughing.

‘Hey,' he said. ‘Sherlock Holmes got the jump on me.'

‘The police told me about it.'

‘The police,' Neal said, waving his hand. ‘Those guys are so slow.'

‘Hold it,' Dan said. ‘Who are these criminals we're hearing about? Are you in trouble?'

Neal ignored the question. ‘And it's not larceny. It's grand larceny the old man committed. That means he took control of someone else's property, and said property had a decent value. In Ohio, that means more than twenty-five hundred bucks. Could be a car. Could be jewellery. Either way, he's a bad boy. And not just assault – aggravated assault. That means he probably used a weapon.'

‘Jesus,' Dan said.

‘There are some cool people in the world,' Neal said.

‘Is that it on Baxter?' I asked.

‘Pretty much,' Neal said. ‘Last known address in Columbus. Only been married once.' He turned and looked
at me. I could see what he had pieced together. ‘A woman named Leslie Baxter. Also known as Leslie Hampton. Now deceased.'

‘Hold it a minute,' Dan said. ‘This guy, this criminal … your mom?'

‘Pretty wild, isn't it?' Neal said.

‘You knew this?' Dan ignored Neal and looked directly at me.

‘No,' I said. ‘I just found all this out today. I asked Neal to dig into these people a little more. I wanted to know what I was dealing with.'

‘Jesus,' Dan said again.

Neal said, ‘You're hoping that these people – one or both of them – killed your mom. If they killed her, then your brother is off the hook. Right?'

‘Doesn't it make more sense?' I asked. ‘Look at them and look at Ronnie.'

‘What's the motive?' Neal asked. ‘People don't off people for no reason. Unless they're in love with them or something.'

‘Money,' I said. ‘This Yarbrough woman showed up and got in the will. My mom is dead and Ronnie is accused. She gets a big cut of what my mom had.'

‘Pretty slick,' Neal said.

‘I think I'm missing a few steps,' Dan said. He looked at Neal. ‘How did you find these things out? Couldn't Elizabeth or I have found them on the internet?'

‘Not really, chief,' Neal said. ‘I mean, you can pay for some background-check stuff online, but it's second-rate. And the Teach here is a poor grad student. She doesn't want to go through all that expense.' He wiped his nose.
‘Besides, you have to know how to interpret the data. That's what my old man does. He took a look at this and helped me analyze it.'

‘Your old man?' Dan asked. ‘Is he a cop?'

‘Not even close,' Neal said.

‘Dan,' I said. ‘It's okay.'

‘Then tell me how this woman could convince your mother to let her into her will. What did she tell her?'

‘It's a long story,' I said. ‘It's –'

‘Yes,' Neal said, cutting in. ‘A very long story. And we don't have much time.'

‘Why is that?' Dan asked.

Neal held up his phone. ‘I have a full tank of gas and directions to her house. Since Elizabeth likes to party and it's Saturday night, she might be going out. I think we need to get to Reston Point as soon as possible, before she decides it's time to hightail it out of there.'