Lizzy Gardner #2_Dead Weight (21 page)

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“I do miss you,” she said.

“I miss you, too.”

Lizzy hung up and for the irst time in a very long time, she felt like crying.
What was wrong with her?
She was too young to be going through menopause. She wasn’t pregnant. It wasn’t even close to being that time of the month. She was a wreck. “You just need sleep,”

she said aloud.

As she gazed out her window, she noticed something stuck under her windshield wiper. Probably an advertisement, she thought, as she climbed out of her car. Only the corner of the paper was showing since most of it had disappeared under the hood of her car. She pinched the corner of the paper and then lifted the wiper. It was a picture of a girl. Her pulse raced. She recognized the woman. It looked like a younger version of Andrea Kramer. It had to be Diane.

From the looks of it, she’d lost a lot of weight--too much weight.

Lizzy looked around at the empty streets and then quickly got back into the car. Under the light she saw that the picture was smeared with something that looked a lot like blood. The photo appeared to be one of those instant pictures taken with a Polaroid camera. She wondered how long the picture had been stuck beneath her windshield wiper. Careful not to touch the photo more than she already had, she placed it in the glove box where it would be safe until she could get a better look at it.

She’d already been warned to mind her own business, but now someone was leaving her evidence? Shivers coursed over her as she locked the doors. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before she looked at the map again and saw where she’d taken the wrong turn.

She merged back onto the road.

Ten minutes later, Lizzy parked in front of Tree Top Apartments, which made no sense since there was only one tree in the vicinity as far as she could tell. The apartment building looked older than dirt with its cracked stucco and peeling paint.

Lizzy followed the numbers and headed upstairs. Vivian’s apartment was on the far corner. She knocked on the door and waited patiently. After a few minutes she knocked again. The curtains were drawn tight. Nobody was home. She inhaled deeply, relieved that no weird smells were coming from the apartment.

Next she headed for the main office, which was empty.

Lizzy hit a bell.

A short hunched-back man waddled in from another room where she could hear a television blasting.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m looking for Vivian Hardy in apartment 154A. I just knocked on her door but nobody answered.”

“You’re a brave woman,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone who knocks on Vivian Hardy’s door is doing so at their own risk. The girl does not like to be disturbed and even pays rent in advance to ensure nobody bothers her.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

He shrugged. “Three weeks ago, maybe four.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Lizzy frowned.

He walked to a ile cabinet across the room and waved Lizzy over.

“Let me show you something.”

Lizzy moved to his side and watched him open the cabinet labeled G

through M. He shuffled through the drawer and pulled out the Hardy ile. He opened the ile and showed Lizzy a thick stack of formal letters written in perfect penmanship by Vivian herself.

Letter after letter was addressed to the landlord of Tree Top Apartments asking the landlord and staff not to allow anyone to bother her. Unless she called with a problem, he was not to call, and that included knocking on her door to see if she was okay.

“Can I see the file for a moment?”

He obliged and Lizzy looked through the letters under the pretense of reading one after another. Instead, she took a good look at the contract that listed references, including Vivian’s mother Abigail Hardy and her phone number and mailing address in Brooklyn, NY.

The phone rang and the landlord walked away, giving Lizzy time to grab a pen from her purse and write Mrs. Hardy’s telephone number on her hand.

Chapter 28

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Morning came much too fast. Lizzy walked sleepily into the kitchen, surprised to see coffee already brewing. Hayley was sitting on the living room loor petting Hannah. “I thought you were allergic to cats?”

“I am.” Hayley dangled a string over the kitten’s head, making Hannah twist and turn in an eager attempt to capture it.

“I never heard you come in last night,” Lizzy said.

“Liar.”

Lizzy smiled. “You’re up early.”

Hayley nodded and said, “I left something on the coffee table for you.”

Forgoing the coffee for a moment, Lizzy made her way to the large envelope on the coffee table. She reached inside and pulled out a pile of pictures. Two dozen pictures at least: horrible, dirty sickening pictures.

“Shit.” Every picture was of a younger Frank Fullerton with his daughter, Carol. “Shit, shit. Shit. This is not good. Where did you get these?”

“Where do you think?”

“You broke into the man’s house?”

Hayley shrugged. “Do you mean the sicko pervert’s house? The window was left open.”

“How? Last night?”

“Over the weekend,” Hayley said matter-of-factly.

“You were babysitting all weekend.”

“Jessica pissed me off. I needed to blow off some steam.”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get into if anyone found out?”

“I don’t think about those things. Ruth Fullerton is running out of time. And since you’re losing your mojo I thought I’d help you out.”

Losing my mojo?
Lizzy shook her head. “What is wrong with you, Hayley? What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“What’s wrong with you, Lizzy? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Tit for tat,” Lizzy said. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Have you talked to Linda Gates lately?”

“Have you?”

Lizzy left the pictures for now, went to the kitchen and illed up a mug with hot coffee. When she returned to the main room she saw that Hayley had moved to the couch, one leg folded beneath the other.

Obviously Hayley was angry about something and needed to blow off steam. Lizzy sat on the other end of the couch. “Tit for tat it is,”

Lizzy said. “I haven’t seen Linda in over two weeks.”

“I haven’t seen her in three,” Hayley said.

“I haven’t seen Linda Gates because I’ve been busy.”

“Ditto.”

“I have been busy trying to keep my business running. And while I’m spinning around in my hamster wheel, I’ve let my personal life go to pot.”

“You and Jared broke up?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“So what happened with moving in with him?”

“I chickened out and told him I wasn’t ready.”

“And now you’re regretting it or are you just upset about the hot next-door neighbor?”

“How did you—oh, Jessica.”

Hayley nodded. “I never tagged you as the jealous type.”

“That’s because I’m not. .at least I didn’t think I was. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. .feeling insecure and wishy washy.”

“I believe it’s called love.”

Lizzy sipped her coffee. “Sounds like you have some experience in the field.”

Hayley grunted. “If you ask me, love doesn’t exist. They, whoever they are, say love is some sort of intangible thing—unconditional and almighty.” Hayley shook her head in disgust. “Come on, really?”

There was a short pause before Hayley continued.

“Maybe I don’t believe in love because human beings, overall, are such pricks.”

Lizzy didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

“Maybe I don’t have the capacity to love, or maybe I just don’t understand it. Love seems so stifling. Not my thing, I guess.”

“Well, maybe someday one of us will be able to enlighten the other on the subject of love.”

“Cool.”

“About breaking into Frank’s house. .”

Hayley nodded, waited.

Lizzy couldn’t hold it in. “Are you crazy?”

“Most people who know me would say yes.”

“What would you say?”

“That you ask too many questions.”

“Hayley, do you understand the danger you’re putting yourself in every time you do something like holding a knife to a man’s throat or breaking and entering?”

“I do.”

“But you’re not worried?”

“Not one bit.”

Before Lizzy could continue her lecture, Hayley said, “Fire me if you want. But I want you to know that won’t stop me from going after assholes like Frank Fullerton.”

“So you’ve decided to become some sort of vigilante?”

“I don’t think of myself as much of anything. But everybody likes to put a label on shit, so call me whatever makes you happy.”

After escaping the evil grasp of Spiderman, Hayley had con ided in Lizzy and told her that for the irst time in a long while she wanted to live. But Lizzy was just now realizing that Hayley might possibly want to live for different reasons than Lizzy irst thought. “Where have you been going late at night?”

“I thought you weren’t going to try and be my mother.”

“If I was your mother, I wouldn’t give a shit where you were at night, would I?”

Hayley looked away.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s just that I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t be.”

Silence engulfed the room.

“Do you want me to move out of your apartment?” Hayley asked. “I would completely understand. Your place, your rules.”

“No. I just want you to talk to me, Hayley.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help you.”

Hayley stood and took her empty coffee mug to the kitchen sink.

Then she grabbed her backpack, pulled the strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. After unlocking the deadbolt, she looked over her shoulder at Lizzy. “You can’t help me anymore than you already have.”

“Then just do me a favor and be careful. I don’t want to see you end up getting in trouble for trying to do what’s right, but going about it all wrong. You’ve got a natural instinct for investigative work. You could go far in this business. And don’t ever forget that you’re one of the smart ones, Hayley. So be smart.”

Lizzy went to the door. “And thanks for the pictures,” she called out before Hayley could get away.

***

Lizzy went to her bedroom and turned on her computer.

She had called Jared back last night, but they only had a moment to talk before his pager went off. He was working on a whopper of a case, something to do with money laundering by a federal judge in another state but with connections here in Sacramento. If convicted, the judge would be removed from office immediately.

Last night Lizzy had transferred Vivian’s mother’s telephone number from her hand to a notepad. She picked up the phone and called the number.

A woman’s voice sounded on the other end of the line after the third ring. “Hello.”

“Hello. My name is Lizzy Gardner and I’m calling about Vivian Hardy. Is this her mother?”

“What now? Is she in the hospital again?”

Lizzy took that as a yes. “Does Vivian go to the hospital often?”

A ponderous sigh could be heard on the other end. “I have no idea. I just remember getting a call from one of those med centers once telling me my daughter needed someone to pick her up.”

Lizzy could hear shuffling on the other end.

“That was over a year ago,” the woman said. “I make notations on my calendar when she calls. It looks like we talked a few months ago.”

“I went to her apartment and knocked several times,” Lizzy told the woman. “There was no answer and the landlord hasn’t seen her in months.”

“Vivian likes her privacy. You would too if you needed more than one fireman to get you from place to place.”

“Firemen?”

“She has two bum knees and when you’re over 300 pounds with bad knees, you need help. She won’t listen to me. Never has, never will. What is it that you need exactly?”

“Apparently Vivian had joined the Weight Watcher Warriors, an online weight loss group. She befriended a girl named Diane Kramer who has been missing for some time.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“Did you meet Diane?”

“No, no. I haven’t made the trip to California to see Vivian, but I do remember her talking about a woman named Diane when she called last. She was worried about her. That in itself is uncharacteristic of Vivian, you know, to worry about anyone but herself, so the name stuck in my head.”

Lizzy decided to give Mrs. Hardy time to think. .see if she remembered anything else.

“If I remember correctly, Diane was even larger than Vivian. No,” she amended, “I think it was the other way around. Anyhow, Vivian didn’t like the way the woman’s sister treated her, trying to push Diane into losing weight. I couldn’t speak my mind, of course, because I agreed with the sister. But there’s no helping someone that wants to eat their way to an early grave.”

Suddenly Lizzy felt sorry for Vivian. “Do you remember anything else your daughter might have said last time the two of you spoke?”

“She did talk about joining a fat camp, or something.”

“Do you know where?”

“I don’t. Wait. .she said something about a mountain cabin. That’s all I know.”

“Do you remember if the cabin was located in California?”

“No, I don’t remember, but I would assume so.”

“If you remember anything else, would you mind if I left you my number so you can call me?”

“That would be fine.”

Lizzy exchanged information with the woman, surprised when Mrs.

Hardy didn’t say another peep about her own daughter. Something like: “Would you let me know if you hear from Vivian?” Or “I’d appreciate a call if you hear anything about my daughter.” Nothing.

Lizzy got off the phone and made notes that she iled away. Then she made a list:

Diane Kramer Missing Person Case Give photo of Diane to police
Find Vivian Hardy

Talk to Andrea Kramer

Have a nice long chat with Anthony Melbourne Send daily emails to WWW, the online group Stay in touch with Debra Taphorn and Michael Denton
Carol Fullerton Cold Case