Murder With All the Trimmings (27 page)

Josie had been driving about ten minutes when she saw a small figure bundled in a dark coat and her heart leaped. She drove faster. As she got closer, Josie realized that was no child, but the thin, bent figure of an old woman. Josie was so disappointed she almost wept.

Josie saw groups of tweens and teens at the burger joints and clothing stores, but none was Amelia. Where were their parents? she wondered. Why didn’t they make sure their kids were safe at home?

And where was her daughter? Josie couldn’t lose her. She tried to drive faster, but her car slid on a patch of slushy ice. Slow, she reminded herself. Speeding up won’t help find Amelia faster.

Josie kept driving up and down the empty streets, praying that her daughter was safe. In her mind she replayed scenes from the nightly news: desperate parents begging kidnappers to please let their child come home unharmed. She imagined weeping family members huddled around shallow graves in desolate woods. She saw yellow crime-scene tape fluttering in the dirty snow, and solemn officials wheeling away a black body bag with a small mound zipped inside.

Where was Amelia? Why didn’t I let her have a cell phone? Josie asked herself. She could be texting me a message now. If someone kidnapped her, she could be trying to contact me.

Josie’s cell rang at ten p.m. She jumped, then pulled the car over. She was too shaky to drive and talk to Jane.

“Mom?” Josie said. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you drink any of those wine coolers for the party?” Jane asked.

“No,” Josie said. “Why?”

“I opened your fridge looking for some milk for my coffee, and saw that six bottles were gone. Did Amelia take them?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Josie said. But now Josie could think of many reasons. Her crafty daughter was up to something. She knew it. But what? Amelia had never showed any interest in alcoholic drinks. She didn’t like the taste. So why would she take the wine coolers?

Josie called Mike and Stan, but neither one had seen anything.

“I’m sorry, Josie,” Mike said. “I’m over by DeMun now. Nobody’s outside, except a guy walking his dog. He hasn’t seen anyone. I’ll keep looking.”

“Me, too,” Josie said. “I’m about to finish the Maplewood area. Then I’ll head over to Forest Park.”

Josie kept driving. The temperature was dropping, and the slush on the streets was starting to freeze. Twice her car skidded, but she brought it under control. Josie couldn’t drive into the Highway 40 construction area, but she got close enough to check for signs of people moving around. Nothing. The big yellow earthmovers looked like prehistoric beasts. The concrete bridge pillars seemed to belong to a lost civilization.

She drove into the city’s majestic Forest Park, nearly thirteen hundred acres of twisting paths and more lagoons and lakes than any mother wanted to think about.

At ten minutes to midnight, Josie’s phone rang. She pulled over in the park and grabbed it.

“Josie,” her mother said, “any sign of Amelia?”

“Of course not,” Josie said.

“Then I’m calling the police and have them issue an AMBER Alert for a missing child.”

“No!” Josie screamed.

“Why not?” Jane said. “My granddaughter is missing. We need to face facts. This is when we call in the police.”

“Mom, the police have to confirm there’s been an abduction, and there has to be a serious risk of injury.”

“Bah! What are they going to do, arrest a worried grandmother?”

“And what do we do when her grandfather finds out and decides to take your granddaughter back to Canada because I’m an unfit mother? He’s already angry at us. Amelia told me that her grandpa said she could live with him all year round and she’d love winter in Toronto. If he takes her, we don’t have money to fight the legal battles or hire the detectives to find her.”

“And what do we do if she’s dead, Josie? Because of your foolish pride.”

“Just give me a little more time, Mom.”

“You have until twelve thirty, Josie Marcus. Then I call the police, and to hell with the consequences. I’d rather have a live granddaughter in Canada than a dead one close to home.”

Josie hung up the phone and wept.

Chapter 29

Midnight.

Josie heard a church bell bonging somewhere, but the sound brought no comfort. Where was Amelia? Why would she do anything so foolish? She’d never run off before. Where did she get the idea she could investigate a murder?

From her idiotic mother, Josie decided. I’ve set a fine example for my child. After that pile of gifts we got when I solved the last murder, my daughter probably thinks she’ll be richly rewarded.

Twelve fifteen. Josie drove aimlessly through Maplewood. Not a living soul was roaming the streets, not even a stray dog. The night grew darker as more house lights winked off. Maplewood was a city of people who worked for a living.

Twelve twenty.Ten minutes to go, and then Jane would call 911, and Josie knew that her life would be over. The police would broadcast an AMBER Alert. Amelia’s grandfather would declare Josie unfit for motherhood and take her daughter to another country.

Josie’s phone rang. She pulled the car over, took a deep breath, and answered it.

“Mom?” said a quavery voice.

“Amelia?” Josie said, relief flooding her. “Are you okay? Where are you? How are you?”

“I’m at Heather’s place, Mommy, and I want to come home. She lives—”

“I know where she lives,” Josie said. “Hang on. I’ll be right there.”

“Mommy? Be careful. She’s mean. So is her mother.”

“But I’m meaner than both of them put together,” Josie said.

“Bring a gun or something,” Amelia said.

“A gun? What the hell is going on? I’m calling the police, Amelia Marcus.”

“No! Just get me out of here, please. She’s crazy. You were right, Mommy.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be right there.”

There was no answer. Amelia had hung up.

“Mommy.” Her daughter must be terrified. Amelia considered herself too old to use “Mommy.”

Josie speed-dialed Jane and said, “Amelia called. I’m on my way to get her. She’s all right.”

“Thank goodness,” Jane said.

“Mom, please call Mike and Stan and tell them I’ll meet them at your place.”

“Josie, where are you going?”

“I’ll tell you shortly, Mom. You’re breaking up,” Josie lied, and switched off her phone.

Josie didn’t have a gun. But wait—she had something she could use. She opened the trunk of her car and pulled out Alyce’s Christmas present, the crème brûlée torch. With trembling fingers she inserted the butane cylinder. She put the torch on the seat beside her and drove to Heather’s house, wondering why her daughter was visiting that “loser face.”

Josie figured she was about ten minutes from the apartment where Heather and her mother lived. She drove too fast on the freezing slush, grateful there were no other cars around in case hers spun out on an ice patch. She went into a long slide at a red light and forced herself to slow down.

You won’t help anyone if you get into an accident, she reminded herself. You have a daughter to save.

Josie was a long block away when her phone rang again. She pulled over again and answered it.

“Amelia?” she said.

“Sorry,” said the acid voice oozing out of her phone, “you’ve got me, Ms. Mystery Shopper.”

“Who is this?” Josie asked.

“Doreen. The woman whose business you ruined with your lying little report. I’ve got a cash-flow problem, but you can help me.”

“What?” Josie said. She wasn’t sure she understood Doreen.

“I need money, bitch. That clear enough for you?”

“Money? Why?” This conversation wasn’t making sense to Josie.

“I need twenty thousand in cash to keep my store alive through the end of January. That is, if you want to see your skanky daughter.”

“But—but—I don’t have that kind of money,” Josie said.

“Then you’d better get it,” Doreen said. “Ask Lover Boy. He’s got lots of money. If he really loves you, he’ll give it to you, no questions asked.”

“At this time of night?”

“When better?” Doreen said.

“I’ll be over as soon as I can,” Josie said.

Her hands were shaking when she ended the call. Doreen had finally gone over the edge. She was holding Amelia for ransom.

Should she call Mike? Josie knew he’d go ballistic when he heard about Doreen. She also knew Mike didn’t have that kind of cash on hand.

What about the police? No, Doreen really was crazy. She could hurt Amelia, even kill her. I have to save my daughter, Josie thought. The police will try to negotiate. I’ll rip Doreen apart if she harms Amelia. This is up to me. I can call the cops when I have my daughter safe.

Josie wondered if she was behaving foolishly, and her mind went back to those movies she hated, where the scantily clad heroine ran unarmed into the haunted house when she knew the ax murderer was inside.

No, she decided. I’m not unarmed. She patted Alyce’s Christmas present on the seat beside her. If she had to, she’d burn her way into Doreen’s home.

Josie’s car slid and skidded the short distance to Doreen’s apartment. Doreen and her daughter lived on the second floor of a solid brick building from the middle of the last century. Doreen’s faded blue VW was parked at the end of the U-shaped asphalt drive, as if she was the last resident to arrive home. Josie rammed the back of Doreen’s VW, caving in the engine compartment. It made a satisfying crunch.

Josie’s battered Honda shuddered. She checked the front end. The old car had a few new dents, but it seemed drivable.

Doreen came rushing out of the apartment’s lobby. Her hair was nearly standing on end. Her baggy black sweater flapped like a manta ray in the cold winter air.

“What the hell are you doing?” Doreen screamed. Lights popped on in nearby apartments.

“Quiet,” Josie said. “Unless you want the police here.” She grabbed Doreen by the hair and flicked on the butane torch. “I want my daughter. Now.”

“Where’s my money?” Doreen asked.

Josie grabbed four strands of Doreen’s hair on the left side of her head and yanked hard. They came out in her hand.

Doreen screamed in pain. Josie fired up the créme brûlée torch and set the four hairs on fire. They flared up and went out quickly, leaving the acrid scent of scorched hair lingering in the air.

Doreen’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“If you don’t want to see the rest of your gray hair turn flaming red,” Josie said, “get my daughter out here. Right now.”

Doreen turned to go inside, but Josie grabbed her arm and dug her nails in.

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Doreen said.

“Good,” Josie said. She flipped open her cell, looked up her last received call, and hit SEND.

Heather answered. “Mom, is that you? What’s going on? Freak face is a problem.”

“You don’t know what problems are, Heather, unless you let my daughter go,” Josie said. “Now.”

She handed the phone to Doreen. “Tell her,” Josie said. “Before I set your head on fire.”

“Let her go,” Doreen said. She raised her voice. “I SAID NOW.”

Josie took the phone back and said, “I’m counting to ten, Heather. If I reach it, I’ll call 911 and you’ll find yourself sitting in juvie.”

Josie had gotten to eight when the front door of the apartment building opened.

“Mommy!” Amelia screamed and ran out. Her long dark hair was flying. Her pale face was flushed pink. Her hands were tied with some kind of elastic band.

Josie untied her daughter’s hands, tossed the band in her car, and slapped Doreen across the face. Amelia ran for the passenger side, yanked it open, then locked her door.

“What about my car?” Doreen shrieked. “You hit it.”

“Damn right,” Josie said. “Let’s call the police and report the accident. I’ll also give them this band, which has your fingerprints all over it. Oh, and be sure to sue me. I’m guessing the Naughty or Nice franchise people will love to know how bad you’ve been.”

“Mom,” Amelia called. “We have to go now.”

“Yes, we do,” Josie said. She drove away in her battered Honda, with her daughter and the smoking créme brûlée torch.

Chapter 30