Nothing Is Negotiable (12 page)

Luke was stopped at a red light in town when he couldn’t help noticing a woman admiring a turquoise necklace in the window of the jewelry store. She had platinum blonde hair past her shoulders, hot pink stiletto heels and a short skirt. Before the traffic light turned green, she turned and hurried across the street. As he watched her, he realized it was Mitzi, the manager of the clinic. Halfway down the block she entered the office supply store.

When he talked to her at the clinic she had made it clear that she was the one in charge. It gave him an idea.

He pulled into the parking lot on the side of the store and hustled inside. Down about three aisles he found her standing in front of a display of pens, pencils and markers checking the selection. Hesitating briefly he concocted a plan.

She was deep in thought when he thrust his arm in front of her.

“Excuse me,” he said as he snatched a package of pens.

Startled, she jerked to the side, almost knocking over a kiosk of note pads. She gave a little giggle and put her hand to her chest. Breathlessly she said, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, acting embarrassed. “That was rude of me. I was in a hurry, you know, and just, well, I just wasn’t thinking... are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really. You just caught me off guard, that’s all,” she said, smiling, stifling a laugh.

“I’m really sorry,” he said taking a couple of steps backwards.

Still a little flustered, she laughed again and said, “It’s okay, really.” Her eyes met his. She pointed her finger toward him, and with a flirtatious grin, said, “I know you, don’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger back at her. “You’re Mitzi, right?”

“Why, yes.”

“I’m Luke Wakefield,” he said more casually. “I met you Tuesday afternoon at the clinic.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew I recognized those blue eyes,” she said with a smile. She ran a finger over her brow and parted her blonde bangs. “You and your wife got separated and you were trying to find her.”

“That’s right, and I still haven’t.”

“Oh, my,” she said and covered her mouth with her hand. “She’s still missing?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the police looking for her, but they don’t seem to be having any luck either.”

“You know, a cop came to the clinic yesterday and asked some questions, but I didn’t know she was still missing.”

“She is and I can’t seem to find out what happened to her after she left the clinic.” Luke slapped the package of pens against his other hand and shook his head. “I’m not from Canada and I don’t know how the police operate here. But it doesn’t seem like they are trying very hard.”

“Who are you working with at the RCMP?”

“A guy named Paul Simpson. You know him?”

“God, yes. He’s the cop that came by.” Mitzi rolled her eyes and scoffed, “What a dickhead. I went out with him a couple of times. He’s not bad-looking but he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

Luke chuckled. “Well, I don’t know him
that
well.”

Mitzi laughed and tossed her hair to one side. She rolled her eyes again and said, “You know, it was funny when he came to the office to ask about your wife. He came in and showed everyone his badge, then came to up to me.” Mitzi used a deep masculine voice to imitate him and put her hands on her hips. “’Excuse me, Ms. Lindsey, have you seen this lady?’ And I said, ‘Paul, for heaven’s sake, just call me Mitzi.’ He thinks he’s such a big shot.”

Luke faked a half laugh and Mitzi snorted at her own story.

“Anyway, he didn’t really ask many questions, maybe three or four. Then he was gone. When you came by, you asked more questions than he did. You talked to the nurse
and
the doctor. He didn’t talk to anyone else.”

“You’re kidding.” Luke couldn’t believe it. They told him they’d checked out all leads and interviewed everyone at the clinic, but obviously they did a half-assed job. It seemed they spent all their time investigating him rather than looking for Bonnie? This made no sense.

“No, really,” she said, as she stepped closer. “I don’t like that guy, and if you ask me, I don’t think he’s a very good cop.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He paused as he digested this new information. Slowly he leaned closer and touched her on the elbow, “Mitzi, I’m glad I ran into you. You’re just the person who can help me.”

“I am?” Her eyes widened in anticipation.

“You remember when we talked the other day? You told me no one really saw my wife leave. You said the receptionist checked her out but no one actually saw her go out the door.”

“Right...”

“I need to find someone who saw her leave. I want to talk to the other people who were in the waiting room when she was there. You know what I mean?”

“I do, that’s a good idea. I bet Paul didn’t think of that.”

“Could you get me a list of those people who were in the clinic at the same time we were there?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” Mitzi said as she stepped back, moving her arm out of Luke’s reach. She looked around them to make sure no one was listening. Whispering, she said, “We can’t give anyone’s information unless the patient says it’s okay.”

“Mitzi, you are my only hope.” Luke stepped around in front of her. “I’ve got to talk to those people. One of them might have seen something. You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Dr. Duncan would fire me if he found out,” she said, just above a whisper. She sounded firm, but sympathetic.

“Mitzi, please,” he begged. “My wife disappeared. I don’t even know if she’s alive. She’s running out of time. You
have
to help me.”

She eased backwards and hugged herself around her waist. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.”

Luke couldn’t let her get away until he had those names. Again she reached up and flipped her hair and he noticed three gold rings on her fingers, all bearing large colored stones. As he looked closer he noticed her gold necklace and diamond earrings, which he thought were probably fake.

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his billfold and took out a bill. Making sure no one was watching, he grabbed her hand, put the bill in it and closed her fingers around it. “I need that list. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Slowly she opened her hand and saw a folded hundred-dollar bill. It didn’t take her long, maybe half a second, to make her decision.

“But you can’t tell anybody,” she whispered.

“I won’t.”

“I can lose my job,” she said sternly as she took another peek at the bill.

“I can lose my wife.”

She nodded at him, affirming his dilemma. “Okay, I get off at four-thirty. Come to my apartment about five?”

“Tell me where you live and I’ll be there.”

Luke was barely back to his car when he saw Mitzi come out the front door with her bag of purchases. He’d never seen anyone run in high heels, especially any as tall as hers. There was a little red Miata convertible parked in front of the jewelry store with the top down. When she got to it, she chunked the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurried into the store, the hundred-dollar bill clutched in her hand.

Luke thought about the comment Mrs. Johnson, the owner of the lodge in St. Mary’s, had made, as he drove back toward the edge of town. She said tourist season was in full swing and it would be hard to find a room. But, there were four motels at this intersection. Surely one would have a room.

The Best Western looked newest so he pulled into the parking lot. Inside he found a young lady filing her nails and glued to
The View
on a small TV behind the check-in desk.

“Do you have a non-smoking single room available? Upstairs if you have it.”

“Sorry, sir, we’re all booked up,” she said, her eyes never leaving the TV.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked, glancing at her computer. “Could you check?”

“Don’t have to. Hot air balloon festival over by Waterton Lakes, same time every year. We get booked up at least six months in advance. We have a no-cancellation policy within two weeks of check-in, so we won’t have anything available until about this time next week.”

“Next week? You’re kidding me.”

“No sir, I’m not,” she said as if she’d already answered that question twenty times today.

“Is there another motel you’d recommend?”

“Not really. You can check the Moutain-Aire across the highway, but they won’t have anything either,” she said without expression. “Same with the others in town. You’ll be lucky to find a room within seventy-five miles of here.”

Luke thanked her and drove across the highway. They told him the same thing: there was nothing available and no hope of cancellations. He tried the other two and their story was the same. Discouraged, he headed into town hoping to find a bed and breakfast, a boarding house, or something. He remembered there was a newspaper machine outside the drugstore.
There might be something in the want ads
, he thought.

He slipped into a parking space and checked the machine but it was empty. Down the street he found another machine in front of Sonny’s camera shop, but there were no papers in it either. Sonny saw him through the window and stepped outside.

“The paper comes out once a week—every Friday. They’re usually gone by the next day,” Sonny explained. He tilted his head toward the diner. “They usually hang onto a couple for the customers to read. Why do you need a paper?”

“I’m trying to find a room. All the motels are booked up. Any ideas where I might look?”

“Try the real estate office two blocks down. They usually have a list of apartments and houses for rent. You might find someone who’ll rent you one by the week.”

“Good idea. Thanks.”

“Cops found anything yet?”

Luke’s first thoughts were Ernest’s accusation, that he was the only suspect at this time. Disgusted, he bit his lip and said, “No.”

Sonny nodded and said, “You know, I saw a show on TV one time about a guy who had a reaction to a drug that caused him to have amnesia. He wandered off for a few days and no one knew where he was. They said most amnesia cases last only twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and can be brought on by all kinds of things, even a concussion. Maybe they gave your wife some drugs at the clinic that affected her. She walked out of the clinic and being confused, she wandered off.”

“Interesting,” Luke said. “It’s a possibility, I guess.”

“You said she took a pretty good spill when she was jogging. Maybe that could have something to do with it.”

“Yeah, but that was the afternoon before, at least twelve hours earlier.”

“What else could it be? No one’s going to grab her in broad daylight, not at the clinic or on the street. Not in this town. She’ll show up before long. I’m sure she will.”

Luke shook his head and glanced down the street. “Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

When Luke stepped inside the diner the smell of home cooking made him realize how hungry he was. He had skipped breakfast and now his stomach was reminding him. He asked a waitress for a copy of the newspaper.

“Let me check in the back,” she said. “Sit wherever you want to. Meatloaf’s the special today. And it’s better than your momma makes.”

He sat down and a minute later she came back and dropped a paper on the table. “The sports section is missing. Hope that’s not what you wanted.”

It didn’t take long to discover there were no listings for rooms or houses for rent. Half an hour later he finished the meatloaf, which
was
better than his mother’s, and headed for the realtor’s office.

There he found a young lady with a pierced eyebrow engrossed in a Sudoku puzzle. She smiled and asked if she could help him. He explained his predicament and she pulled a piece of paper off the credenza behind her.

“This is the most current list. I don’t know if any of them will rent by the week; but it wouldn’t hurt to call and ask.”

He started down the sidewalk looking for a payphone. Halfway down the block he came to The Sportsman’s Outfitter and saw Lauren inside. She waved him in and Luke gave her an update on what had happened since he last saw her. When he mentioned his quest for a room to rent, she snapped her fingers and said, “You know, I’ve got an idea. Let me make a phone call.” She dialed and a few seconds later put the phone down. “Line’s busy. I’ll try again in a minute.”

He glanced at his watch and realized it was almost time to meet Mitzi. “I’ve got to meet someone in a few minutes and it shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Would that be okay?”

“Sure. Come back when you are done.”

The Tudor-style apartment complex was small, about a dozen units. Mitzi’s red Miata was parked in front of the unit on the corner and Luke pulled into the parking space beside it. He hurried up the walk to #12 and rang the doorbell. Inside he heard a couple of dogs start yapping. The barking continued until Mitzi opened the door, a wiggling Yorkie under each arm.

She had changed into jeans and a white blouse with a plunging neckline. Around her neck he saw a turquoise necklace that looked just like the one he saw in the window of the jewelry store.

“How do you like my twins? Aren’t they cute?”

Luke assumed she was referring to the dogs.

“Very cute. Smaller than I expected by the barking.” Luke stepped inside and with her foot Mitzi pushed the door closed. He noticed the pink stilettos had been replaced with taller, black spikes.

“Come in,” she said as she put down the dogs. As he followed her, he realized why it took her so long to get to the door. Obviously it takes a while to put on half a bottle of perfume. She reeked of gardenias.

Her apartment was a small studio, nicely furnished in glass and chrome. Luke followed her into the dining room where he noticed framed photos everywhere—all of her.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to a glass-topped table. The dining room was separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar, over which she held a clear plastic pitcher, half filled with a slushy white concoction. “I just made a pitcher of margaritas. You’ll help me drink it, won’t you?”

“I’d better not. I’m going to try to talk to a few people on that list before it gets too late.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “With all you’ve been through, I think you need it.” She walked around the corner with two drinks and set one in front of him. She leaned over the bar and picked up a couple of pieces of typed paper. She slid them in front of him and said, “Here’s the list of patients we saw Tuesday morning.”

As he scanned the list, she sucked down her drink. There were about a dozen names on it with addresses and phone numbers.

“This shows everyone who came in that morning,” she said between slurps. She stepped around to the side of the table and stood while she swirled what was left of her drink. “These names are listed according to when they checked in. It includes everyone from about nine o’clock until we closed for lunch. Everyone on the first page saw Dr. Duncan. Those on the second page saw Dr. Birdwell.”

“Did they check out in the same order they saw the doctor?”

“I doubt it, but let me see,” she said as she bent over the table, proudly displaying so much cleavage that Luke felt obligated to check it out. She took her time as she looked down the list. “I think most of them did... except for Ed Couch, who was really sick, and Elsie George, who we had to send to the hospital. Marinel Hayes was in and out pretty quick, but I think she was about the last person to leave the office. I can’t remember much about the others.”

“This will help a lot. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

She picked up a pen from the table and looked down the list and put check marks beside three names. “These would be the ones I’d talk to first.” Then she circled one name. “But if I were you, I’d start with Marinel.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s Miss Know-it-All.”

“What do you mean?”

“If anyone ever needs to know something about anyone or anything going on in town, she’ll know about it. I don’t know how she does it, but she keeps up with everything.”

Mitzi stood up, grabbed her empty glass and headed to the kitchen. Luke saw her get a refill over the breakfast bar.

“You need some more?” She held out the pitcher, swirling the margaritas.

“No, I’m fine,” he said as he picked up his glass and took his first drink.

“Anyway, she got there at least an hour before her appointment. She’s always early everywhere she goes. We talked a little bit, but I had lots of work to do. Let me warn you, she can talk your ears off.”

“You think she’ll talk to me, even though she doesn’t know me?”

“God yes, honey,” she laughed. “She’ll take one look at your gorgeous face and drag you in the front door.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll keep my distance.”

“Oh, I was just kidding. But, poor Marinel, she’s not bad, but she’s never been married. Just can’t get a man.”

Luke nodded as if he understood.

Then she raised her eyebrows and smiled when she said, “And from what she told me on Tuesday, she’s
really
in the mood for a man... if you know what I mean.”

“Then I’ll
definitely
keep my distance.”

She took the list from Luke’s hand, jotted something on the bottom of the page and handed it back to him. “That’s my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.” Luke stood and looked at the list.

“Tonight I’ll be at The Stampede. It’s a bar and dance hall on the north side of town. Stop in and let me know what you find.” She patted Luke on the hand and wiggled her eyebrows. “And I want to hear how it goes with you and Marinel.”

He grinned and said, “I might do that.”

They started to the front door, Mitzi swirled what was left of her margarita and said, “Since you’re going to see Marinel first, you don’t need to worry about having a margarita on your breath. Knowing her, she’ll probably have had a few by the time you get there.”

Before Luke could get out the door, she hugged him and gave him a kiss him on the cheek. “Good luck... and remember I’ll be at the Stampede until about midnight.”

“Okay,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

After Luke got in his car he checked himself in the mirror. He pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, then rolled down the windows, hoping the smell of her perfume would dissipate.

When he got back to Lauren’s store she was on the phone so he took a seat across from her and waited.

“Yes, sir. I’ll send a confirmation of your reservation to your e-mail address.” Her eyes came up to Luke with a furrowed brow, then said goodbye to the caller and hung up. With a sour look, she asked, “Do I smell gardenias?”

“Yeah, but that’s another story. Did you have any luck?”

“Yes, but not exactly what I was expecting.”

“So... what does that mean?”

“I called my dad. He has some rental property and I thought he might have something, but he said he doesn’t at this time. But, he suggested something else.”

“What’s that?”

“My place. Why don’t you stay at my place?”