Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set (65 page)

Chapter 12

Two police officers and a forensics technician arrived at 1:15 p.m. Carter offered to assist in the search. Once they got to work, I offered to make a pot of tea. “You’re a trooper, Alice,” I said. “This must be difficult for you.”

She sat at her favorite char, fingers fidgeting in her lap. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think. All I know is that Mari is in trouble. I just want to know she’s alright.”

I fixed a cup of earl grey, added some milk, and returned to the sitting room. Alice blew on the hot liquid, then sipped it gingerly. She didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, so we sat in silence for a few minutes.

“
Alice, did Mari ever mention a desire to own a gun?”

She looked up, eyes wide. “A gun? Heavens no. Why?”

“
We discovered a search on Mari’s laptop.”

Alice’s shoulders slumped forward. “I’m starting to realize there are many things I don’t know about Mari.”

“
I’m sure she neglected to mention it because she didn’t want you to worry,” I said.

“
If she was looking at guns, she must have had a good reason,” Alice said. “But why not pepper spray or Mace? Even one of those stun-gun’s I’ve seen on TV.”

“
It’s possible she never intended to buy a gun. Perhaps she was conducting research for some other reason,” I said.

“
Like what?”

“
I have an idea. I could go to the local shooting range to see if anyone recognizes Mari. Maybe she went
there
to inquire about guns or taking lessons.”

Alice regarded me with skepticism. “I suppose.”

* * *

By four o’clock, the police and forensics team had completed their search. They packed up and left, with no indication as to what – if anything – had been discovered.

Carter joined us in the sitting room and asked Alice how she was holding up.

Alice let out a long, tired sigh. “I thought they would never leave. Did they find anything?”

“
I don’t think so,” he said.

“
Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” Alice said. “It’s not that I don’t trust the police, but I feel better knowing you were present.” Alice turned to face me. “How long do you suppose Lucy and Oliver will be gone?”

“
I have no idea,” I said. “But I’d be happy to fix something for dinner if you’re getting hungry.”

“
Very kind of you,” she said. “But I’m fine. I suppose my stomach is a little queasy after all of this excitement.”

I checked my cell phone. No messages or calls.

Alice became distracted as she looked out the window. I followed her gaze. A van had pulled up in front of the house and Lucy got out, a tense expression on her face as she came through the door. She entered the room and rushed over to Alice. “Ma’am, are you okay? I am so sorry I was gone so long. Did you take your medication, yet?”

“
I’m fine, dear. How did it go at the police station?”

“
Fine, I guess. They wanted to keep Oliver a bit longer. The detective told me he’d have him home by supper time.”

Carter and I exchanged glances but said nothing.

Alice smiled. “I appreciate your willingness to help the officers with their investigation. Why don’t you get dinner started while I say good-bye to Sarah and Carter?"

Lucy nodded, acknowledged Carter and I briefly, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Alice seemed distraught. “Something is wrong. Why do they still have him?”

“
I don’t know. I’ll call you as soon as I know something, okay?”

Alice nodded. “Thank you for everything. I appreciate all the time and energy you’ve dedicated to this investigation. You’ve both gone above and beyond.”

“
Stay positive, Alice,” Carter said. “Try not to worry too much. It’s bad for your health.”

Since Carter had other issues to attend to, I drove back to the police station by myself. Detective James was still in the interview room and I couldn’t bear the thought of spending another moment in the break room. I checked my watch: 4:35 p.m. I decided to visit the local shooting range, instead.

Chapter 13

The Manchester Firing Range – an imposing brick structure — was located ten minutes south of Bridgeport. I entered the lobby and looked around. To my left was a large glass counter containing guns, ammunition, and other accessories. On the walls, semi-automatic rifles and other scary looking weapons were displayed like trophies. The bearded man behind the counter acknowledged me with a friendly nod. “Evening, ma’am,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“
I hope so. My name is Sarah Woods. I’m assisting the Bridgeport Police Department in a missing person’s case. Can you please tell me if this woman has been here in the past few weeks?” I showed him the photograph of Mari.

He studied it, but his expression was empty. “Maybe you should ask Derek. I’ll buzz him for you.”

“
Thank you.”

A few seconds later a tall, lanky man with a limp walked into the shop. He wore Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and a worn out jean jacket. “What can I help you with, miss?”

I showed him the picture. “Has this woman been here recently?”

He barely glanced at it before he nodded. “She has. What’s this about?”

“
She’s missing. The police have reason to believe she purchased a gun. I was wondering if she bought it here.”

He chewed on his lower lip for a second and finally gestured for me to follow him to a back office room. “She was here last week with her son but we didn’t sell her a weapon. They already had one.”

“
Her son?” I asked.

“
That’s what she said. Interested in getting him lessons. He proved he was over eighteen, so I obliged.”

“
Did she explain why she wanted him to learn to shoot?”

“
Not really,” he said. “I assumed it was for sport.”

“
Sport?”

“
Target practice. Not everyone comes in for self-defense reasons.”

“
How many lessons?”

“
Just one.”

“
What kind of gun did he have?” I asked.

“
Small caliber revolver. Don’t recall the specifics, though.”

“
Did they mention where they purchased it?”

He shrugged. “Nope.”

“
Thanks. I guess that’s all I need to know. You’ve been very helpful.”

As I drove back to the police station, I tried to imagine why Mari would ever encourage Ethan to take up shooting. Even if it were for self-defense, there certainly were other ways to protect oneself.

By six o’clock, I was exhausted and flat out cranky due to hunger. I stopped to grab a deli sandwich, scarfed it down with a bottle of Orangina, and continued on to the police station.

Detective James had concluded the interview with Oliver and sent him home.

“
So?” I asked. “Could he explain how his cat hair got in Mari’s car?”

“
He couldn’t, but he’s agreed to take a polygraph test and submitted his fingerprints and DNA. Not once did he mention a lawyer.”

“
Did he explain his juvy record?” I asked.

“
He told me it was substance related … marijuana.”

“
Do you believe he’s innocent?”

Detective James shrugged. “Innocent is an interesting word. I’m not so sure I know what it means anymore.”

Surprised by his philosophical musing, I simply nodded.

“
As far as his wife goes,” he continued, “she complied and answered all my questions efficiently and agreeably. She claims her husband never left the house between Friday night and Saturday afternoon. And since nothing turned up in the search of the property to implicate him, I let him go.”

“
Well, I just came from the Manchester Firing Range. Guess who has been taking lessons?”

“
Mari?”

“
Ethan Parker,” I said. “But Mari went with him. They already had a gun.”

“
How did you get this information?”

“
From Derek, the guy who owns the firing range. According to him, Ethan was taking the lesson for sport.”

Detective James appeared to mull it over. “Well, that could explain why Mrs. Parker did research on her laptop, but it also brings up a new set of questions. I’m just not so sure it pertains to the disappearance.” Detective James checked his phone. “Sorry, I have to call this newspaper reporter back. They’ve agreed to run an article with Mrs. Parker’s picture. Maybe someone will come forward with new information. Why don’t you head home, get some rest, and I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“
Okay, sure.”

* * *

Max was on my couch when I got home, eager to share some exciting news. He was able to acquire a Henry Rossini horror film, entitled,
Revenge of the Space Creature.

“
Is this the kind of movie where I have to cover my eyes every few minutes?” I asked while removing my jacket.

“
Please,” Max said while removing the VCR tape from the box. “They didn’t make movies so graphic back in the day. In fact, you’ll probably laugh at how cheesy the effects are.”

“
Good thing I kept my VCR player,” I said. “Is there any wine left?”

“
I bought another bottle. It’s in the kitchen. Pour me a glass, too?”

“
Sure.”

When I passed through the living room to the fetch the wine, I noticed the silver urn placed to the left of my brick fireplace. Max must have brought it here from his place. But why? I froze for a second and tried not to dwell on the fact that Beth Stevens’ remains were inside that vessel that reminded me of an exquisite glass vase. I was about to mention it to Max, but seeing the excited look on his face over the movie, I decided to bring it up later.

Within a few minutes I heard the sound of creepy music — the opening credits of the movie. I quickly poured two glasses of wine and joined him on the sofa. I never got to see the entire movie as I fell asleep, my head in Max’s lap, just a half an hour in.

Chapter 14

The next morning,
The Bridgeport Gazette
featured an online story about Mari Parker’s situation, including a recent photo. A toll-free hotline number encouraged the public to reach out with any information regarding her disappearance. A five thousand dollar reward was offered for any reliable information pertinent to the investigation.

I didn’t envy the detective. Bogus calls were sure to inundate the hotline.

I puttered around my apartment until lunchtime, waiting for a call. By 1:15 I was tired of drinking coffee and staring at my phone, so I decided to go for a quick run. I was back by 2:00. There was finally a message from Detective James asking for my assistance at the police station.

I showered, slipped into my usual attire of black jeans, V-neck sweater, and black boots, then tied my wet hair back into a ponytail. By 2:15 I was out the door.

It was a mild early November day. With all the rain and bitter cold we’d experienced this month, I welcomed the sun and relative warmth as I drove to the police station.

About twenty calls had come in to the hotline - all Mari sightings - and my task was to listen to each one and discern which were phony and which were valid. I was able to eliminate many of them just by the description the callers gave of Mari. One described her as short and plump. Another described her as a bag lady. After ruling out the bulk of them, one of the calls captured my attention. It had come in from a Massachusetts area code. The male caller – whose voice sounded vaguely familiar – didn’t say much. Only that the police should look into the husband of the missing woman. He didn’t provide an explanation as to why.

When Detective James returned to his office, I brought the message to his attention. We listened to the recording several times. “Sarah, we know who this caller is, don’t we?”

“
Sounds like Ethan with a slightly lower voice,” I replied.

The detective nodded.

“
He thinks his father did something to Mari,” I said. “But he’s afraid.”

Detective James paced his office, pinching his lower lip. “Okay, here’s what I suggest. I need you to talk to the boy.”

“
Why me?”

“
If I ask him to come in, he’ll probably clam up and deny he made the call. I’d like you to approach him in private and try to convince him to provide you with proof of guilt.”

“
What if he refuses?” I asked. “And how do I get him alone? His dad will get suspicious if I show up at the house asking for Ethan.”

“
I’ll ask Mr. Parker to come to the station. He’s been hounding me all morning for updates. That’ll give you a window.”

“
Think that will work?” I asked.

“
It’s worth a shot.”

* * *

By the time I got to the Parkers’ residence, it was almost 3:30. I pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and noticed one of the garage doors was open. Ethan appeared to be waxing his Mustang.

“
Hi, Ethan,” I said with a friendly wave.

He acknowledged me briefly. “Hey.”

“
Nice ride. Looks like you take good care of it.”

Ethan continued buffing in circles on the surface of the hood. “Thanks.”

“
Is your dad around?”

“
No, he just left.”

“
Good. You got a minute to talk?”

He kept on working. “About what?”

“
We got a call on the hotline today. An anonymous male caller implicated your dad in Mari’s disappearance. Do you know anything about that?”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Why would I?”

“
It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t blame you for being careful. Tell you what; I’m heading over to the Starbucks on Route One for some coffee. I’ll be there for an hour.”

“
So?”

“
So if you feel like talking about anything, I’ll be there. If you don’t, that’s okay, too. I just want you to do whatever you think is right.”

Ethan didn’t respond. He kept on working as if he hadn’t heard me. I got back in my car and left.

I realized after nursing a vanilla latte for almost an hour, that Ethan probably wouldn’t show. I stood up and gathered my things to leave when I saw the Mustang parked out front. Ethan was sitting inside, making no attempt to get out of his car.

I walked over to the driver’s side window. He cracked it an inch and peered at me with sullen eyes.

“
Ethan, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to go inside. Can we talk here?”

“
You mean in your car?” I said.

He nodded.

I walked around and climbed in the passenger seat. I tried not to appear eager, but there was something in the kid’s eyes that told me this was a limited time offer. “What’s going on, Ethan?”

He stared straight ahead. “I can’t prove it,” he said.

“
Prove what?”

“
That my dad killed Mari.”

“
Tell me what you know. There must be something else he said or did to make you think he hurt her, right?”

“
Sunday, the day I came home, we went to dinner after racquetball. I finally got the nerve to ask my dad why private detectives were looking for Mari? You know what he said to me?”

“
What?”

“
He said I’d better get used to the idea that Mari won’t be coming home. When I asked him why, he said ‘because women are ungrateful.’”

“
Ungrateful? Do you know what he meant by that?”

“
Not really. At the time I figured Mari was upset with Dad and needed time away to think. But when they found her car …”

“
Let’s say your instincts are correct,” I said. “What would he have done with her?”

“
I have no idea. Maybe he hired someone.”

“
Does your dad have any weapons in the house?”

“
No, but I do. Or, at least I did. I kept it hidden in my closet, but it was gone when I came home on Sunday.”

“
You think your dad took it?”

“
He didn’t know I had a gun, so I’m not sure how he found out. Mari was the only one who knew about it. She promised not to tell.”

“
Why did you have a gun in the first place?” I asked.

“
For protection.”

“
From your dad?”

He nodded. “I never told Mari the real reason I wanted a gun. I told her I thought it would be fun to do target practice. She wasn’t too psyched about it, but offered to go to the shooting range with me to make sure I was taking the proper safety courses. But if my dad found out about the gun in the closet, maybe he used it on her …” He turned to face me, his eyes filled with tears. “Maybe this is all my fault.”

I gently touched his arm. “Just because you had a gun, it doesn’t make you responsible. If your dad really wanted to hurt someone he would have found a way. Plus, you are assuming the worst. Maybe your dad is innocent and Mari is still alive.”

He wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “I’ve looked everywhere for the gun. The house, the garage, the basement, his car …”

“
The question is why,” I said. “
Why
would he want to kill her?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
Would you be willing to come to the police station and give a statement to this?”

Ethan shook his head. “No way. If my dad ever found out, he’d kill me, too.”

“
He doesn’t need to find out.”

“
Only reason I’m telling you this is because you need to know about the gun. I don’t want to be involved.”

“
Ethan, please …”

“
No,” he yelled. “Please get out of my car.”

“
Okay. Can I give you my number in case …”

“
No,” he said. “I’m done talking to you or anyone else. Throw me in jail if you want. I’m not saying another word.”

I got out of his car and watched him peel out of the Starbucks parking lot.