Sky High (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

Four

After stopping at our table to scan the wedding program and learn the best man’s name, Todd Carter, we set out to introduce ourselves. We found him seated at the head table staring at a shiny football helmet oddly nestled next to the centerpiece.

Dean was semi-honest about our intentions.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Nicki’s aunt is the priest, and Mia’s like a cousin to her,” he explained. “We both work in security, so we promised to ask around about Bruce.”

“No problem,” he said. He’d loosened his bow tie and removed his jacket. His dark hair was perfectly mussed, and his fair skin was flawless. If he didn’t provide investigative leads, maybe we could trade beauty secrets. Then again, I was pretty sure his started with
youth
, and mine started with
spandex
, so never mind. “Mia didn’t have a maid of honor,” Todd said, “and Mia and Bruce’s parents asked me to hold down the fort here. Just about everyone expects me to have all the answers. I wish I did.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Dean said. “I know this is really awkward for you.”

“How long have you known Bruce?” I asked gently.

“We met in college.”

“At Maryland State?” I asked.

“No. Smyth.”

“Where’s that?” Dean asked.

“It’s a small college in Smyth Lake, Florida. We met during rush week, and we just clicked.” He snapped his fingers. “Even though we’re kind of opposites.”

“Opposites how?” I asked.

“Bruce is Mr. Slick—the life of the party. I’m the nerd who sets up the lights and the sound system, if you know what I mean.”

I did, since Kenna and I were similarly different, although Todd looked “geek chic” to me. No awkward features or thick glasses.

“What’s up with the football helmet?” Dean asked, keeping the conversation light.

“Oh, it was a prop for my toast. Bruce and I have a little startup going, and this is a prototype of our first product. I was planning to wish him and Mia a wonderful future, but also joke about how Bruce might see more of me than her. This thing’s been generating a lot of interest locally, so we’ve been busy.”

Wires hung from under the helmet on both sides. Maybe it was some sort of videogame accessory or coach-player communication system.

“What does it do?” I asked.

He pointed to the wires on the left. “These are connected to sensors that provide information on the well-being of every player on a pro team.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “What about the other side?”

“Aside from a few left brain, right brain differences, basically the same thing. Kind of like a backup system,” he said a touch impatiently. “Honestly, I think I should be driving around looking for Bruce. It’s hard to sit still.”

“I understand,” Dean said. “We feel the same way. This makes a difference, too, though. Tell us about the bachelor party. Was it last night?”

I reconsidered being part of the conversation. What college grad wants to confess bachelor party faux pas to a mom? (Sometimes I forget not everyone sees me as a mom. No matter how I dress up and spackle my face, I still feel like a frazzled parent whose clothes and hair could use some ironing.)

Todd winced and gave a little whistle.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “It was a doozy.” He eyed me skeptically.

“Like it should be,” I fibbed, immediately picturing drunk lowlifes cheating on their significant others with barely dressed strippers. Jason’s infidelity haunted me at unexpected moments, and apparently this was one of them, since hot, angry fumes were roiling in my chest, and my cheeks felt like radiators.

“I’ll let you guys talk for a minute,” I said. “I see someone I should snag.”

I thought everyone would be better off. There was no way Todd was going to confide in me, and we needed the truth. Had anything happened at that party that could explain why Bruce wasn’t here, dancing the night away?

Dean did a double take but nodded.

“Sure,” he said to me. “Go ahead.” He looked back at Todd and smiled good-naturedly. “So what did you guys do?”

I was dying to eavesdrop, but I made a beeline for the nearest bridesmaid, who was looking at her cell phone.

“Hi,” I said to the pink fluff ball, whose name I hadn’t caught. “I’m Nicki, Mia’s cousin. We met in the church basement.”

“I remember,” she said. “I’m Sadie. Actually, I just texted Mia, but she hasn’t responded. Things couldn’t get much worse, could they?”

Only if Bruce were dead
, I couldn’t help thinking. That was the investigator in me talking.

“Let’s hope they get better soon,” I said. “Did you guys have a bachelorette party last night?”

“Yeah. We all got mani-pedis and massages during the day. Then we went out dancing after the rehearsal dinner. Nothing too crazy. You know Mia.”

I smiled. “What time did you guys get back?”

“The limo dropped us off here around one. We all spent the night in the same room, like a sleepover, and we crashed pretty soon after getting back. No one wanted to be exhausted today.”

“That makes sense. Were there any hints that something like this could happen?”

“Not at all. That’s what’s so weird about it. Bruce seemed totally fine about getting married. No cold feet.”

“And Mia?”

“She couldn’t wait. This was her fairytale.”

I shivered, knowing how gruesome fairytales could be. I had reservations about exposing my kids to some of them. For better or worse, they—and apparently Mia—found them irresistible.

After a few more separate conversations, Dean and I reunited at the bar and resisted the urge to escape reality with alcohol. I had nothing fascinating to share, unless you count those awesome, pastel, melt-in-your-mouth mints they only serve at restaurants, which I’d found in a large bowl by the exit. I’d scooped up enough to last a while.

“So how crazy did that bachelor party get?” I asked.

“Not too bad. I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.”

The way home.
The kids were probably asleep, and Mom might be resting too. Unfortunately, it was past my normal bedtime, and I was fading quickly.

It was awful to imagine Mia sleepless and alone—feeling desperate, afraid, confused, and responsible for Lydia’s care. Or perhaps guilty. No good investigator could ignore the possibility—or even the likelihood—that Mia knew something about Bruce’s disappearance.

The dark comfort of Dean’s car was a good place to hear Todd’s story, since keeping our eyes on the road made uncomfortable subjects easier to discuss.

Dean had reassured Todd that he had no personal interest in what happened at the party—and plenty of experience with the bro code. The last thing he wanted was to share bachelor party details with a priest who was his date’s aunt. He simply wanted to understand Bruce’s state of mind. I held my breath for the details, which Todd had summarized nicely.

The groomsmen had allegedly started at the hotel bar and made their way up to Bruce’s penthouse suite, where a stripper (whom Todd called “kind of a prude”) performed with a portable pole. After she left, they drank, smoked a little pot (as if “a lot” would cross the line into unacceptable), and ordered cheeseburgers, wings, and fries while watching porn. There were no drunken fights, except for a friendly debate over which movies to rent. They’d settled on
XXX-Men
starring Huge Jackoff and
Star Whores
with Jabba the Slut.

I was glad Dean included that tidbit. If poop and porn weren’t first-date icebreakers, what were? We had to get comfortable talking about anything—and fast.

When Dean had asked how intoxicated Bruce had been, if at all, Todd said everyone was under the influence but in control. He also said Bruce didn’t have any substance abuse problems. The party broke up around one fifteen, when Bruce said he needed to get some sleep so he wouldn’t “faint or ralph” at the altar. He’d stayed in the penthouse while the groomsmen returned to their individual rooms.

The next day, everyone assumed he was prepping for the wedding, and in case he was napping, no one disturbed him. The groomsmen were due at the church at four thirty to decorate the just-married “getaway” car, and Bruce was supposed to be picked up at five.

“They must have been worried about not talking to him all day. Weren’t people texting and calling him?” I said.

“They were, but Todd said Bruce is a workaholic, and it’s not unlike him to go dark periodically. No one wanted to panic—or panic anyone else—until it was clear he wasn’t showing up.”

“Why did they party the night before the wedding? Were guys coming in from out of town or something?”

“Yeah. It was the easiest way to get everyone together.”

“Did Todd say what he thought happened?”

“He seemed baffled. What about the bridesmaids?”

I told him about Sadie and the other women with whom I’d chatted. Everyone said there were no hints of trouble.

“Do you think Todd gave you the whole story?” I asked.

“Pretty much. It sounded like a typical frat boy night. If anything, I’m a little surprised they didn’t make Bruce do anything worse.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Run around the hotel in a bedazzled bikini.”

I laughed. “That’s a little specific. Are you speaking from experience?”

He paused and focused on turning right at a red light. “I’ve attended a few bachelor parties in my time,” he said. “Actually, I’ve heard of grooms being kidnapped before the party as a prank.”

“And returned in time for the wedding?”

“Always.”

“If Bruce had second thoughts, you’d think he’d just back out—or go through with it and then get it annulled. And the transplant thing confuses me more than anything, for many reasons.”

My mind raced with possibilities. What if Bruce had gone for a drunken walk and drowned in the nearby Potomac River? What if he’d wrecked his car in a deserted location? The police were on the lookout for it, and they’d track his credit cards and bank accounts in case he or anyone else was spending his money. I covered my face and peeked out at Dean.

“I’m really sorry about this,” I said. “It’s definitely not the ‘welcome home’ you deserve.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said as we turned into my neighborhood. “And I’m not going anywhere. We have plenty of time for dates.”

If only. My parenting and work schedules were busy, and letting Liz and Mia down wasn’t an option. I never had time for a peaceful dinner and grownup movie now, so how would I ever fit it in?

“I’m having lunch with Mia and my aunt tomorrow,” I said with a sigh. “Thankfully, Kenna can babysit.” Even though Liz had encouraged me to invite Dean, I wasn’t subjecting him to that.

“Call me tomorrow night, then, and we’ll talk things over.”

I stuck a hotel mint in my mouth and tried to lighten up.
I’m with Dean,
I told myself,
something I’ve dreamt about for a year. Out of respect for both of us, I should try to enjoy it a little.

I smiled at him and said a genuine, “Thanks.”

After a few minutes of reviewing his plans for settling in at home and working at the PI Academy where we’d met, we pulled up to my house where most of the windows were dark. Kenna’s living room light glowed next door, though, which meant she might be keeping an eye out for me.

My minivan and Mom’s car filled the driveway. No sign of Liz’s rental.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” I said as he put the car in park by the curb. I felt like butterflies were shedding cocoons in my chest. We hadn’t been on much of a date, but saying goodnight still felt scary in the best possible way.

“I don’t mind.”

Dean was chivalrous, and I was independent, so I hopped out before he could come around and open my door. I straightened my dress and tucked my clutch under my arm. We held hands, walked up the brick path to my porch, and finally reached the door. The porch light was off, but I could see well enough to find my keys and notice how he was looking at me.

“Nicki,” he whispered, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me close. His other hand cupped my right cheek (on my face, of course), and there was nothing I could do but look into his eyes and anticipate the obvious. “It’s good to be home.”

Holy mackerel. If this was home, I never wanted to go on vacation.

“I agree,” I said.

And I kissed him.

Yup. I, Nicki Valentine—24/7 mom, full-time worrier, part-time PI, and somewhat bitter widow—kissed irresistibly hot, impossibly single, Brad-Pitt-lookalike Dean Summers.

Reunited. And it was better than ever.

Five

Kenna rarely worked on Sundays. Not because she went to church, but because the health club where she taught classes had abbreviated weekend hours. Plus, her husband Andy was a sports reporter, and he worked Sundays—and most nights—in the fall. In short, autumn + Andy = Kenna practically single parenting. On the upside, Sundays were our opportunities to hang out, vent, and laugh our way through parenting challenges.

Kenna hugged me, Jack, and Sophie when we crowded her foyer at eleven thirty. We were just as eager to greet her sweet toddler Sky, who looked remarkably like Kenna, despite being adopted. Both had blond hair and blue eyes, but Sky’s darker complexion reflected her part-Hispanic heritage, while Kenna looked like she was raised under a sunhat and needed a vitamin D supplement. Ever since middle school, I’d envied her tall, slim figure and high metabolism, but I’d come to terms with it. She loved exercise and chocolate cake, and she could handle them. Eyeing either one made me nervous.

“Do you have to go?” she pleaded. I knew she wanted details about Dean, and I’d gone straight to bed when I got home, although reliving that kiss made it tough to sleep.

“I have five minutes,” I said, looking at my cell phone. We both knew that wasn’t nearly enough.

Sky was waiting for us in their basement playroom, a child’s paradise overloaded with toys and make believe props, from a play kitchen with plastic food to a playhouse stocked with dress-up clothes. It was an amazing, disturbing, diaper-scented scene the kids adored. It also distracted them so we could talk.

I started by explaining my unusually dressy outfit, since the “haggard-mom look” is my typical PI cover. Out of respect for Mia and Liz, I’d chosen black wool pants and a maroon cowl-neck sweater. I’d even stuck in pearl earrings.

“Hey,” I said, interrupting myself. “What were you going to tell me last night? What did you see about Dean online?” I used air quotes for “you.”

“Okay. So Andy and I were testing out my PI skills,” she said.

“And…?”

“And we were looking up real estate records. It turns out Dean owns a house with some woman named…”

I plugged my ears. “La, la, la. Don’t tell me. I only want to learn about Dean from Dean.” I really wanted to learn about Dean from Kenna right that second, but it felt wrong.

She shook her head, grinned, and mouthed, “Fine.”

I lowered my hands and saw the kids’ curious looks.

“Who’s Dean?” Jack asked.

“A friend of mine,” I said. “You met him a really long time ago.”

“When I was a baby?” Sophie asked.

“No, when Sky was a baby,” I said, glancing from Sky to Kenna. Sky’s birth mother had disappeared while pregnant, and Dean had helped us find her. I’d worked for a detective agency afterward, and now, with Kenna’s blessing, I’d named my agency in honor of Sky—and my late father’s career as a pilot.

“Anyhoo,” I said to everyone, “this mommy has an appointment. I have to go.” For comedic effect, I waited for Jack and Sophie’s nonexistent reactions. Kenna’s house was their favorite place to visit, not only because of the playroom and Sky, but also because of its pantry stocked with food bought for its flavor (not its ingredients), a concept with which I was not familiar.

I thanked Kenna, hugged the kids, and let myself out, locking the door behind me.

Aunt Liz and I met at Mia’s favorite sub shop to pick up three sandwiches. Bruce’s mom Lydia was going to join us, but due to her digestive issues, she would provide her own meal. Mia wanted to meet at Bruce’s condo to see if we noticed anything suspicious the police might have missed. Since I was more familiar with the area, Liz rode with me.

Bruce’s condo was in a luxury high-rise that required checking in at the front desk. A sleek elevator with spotless mirrors swooshed us to the eighth floor, where each doorway in the carpeted hall was lit with a sconce. It wouldn’t have surprised me if a butler answered when we rang the bell at 807.

Bruce’s mom greeted us, unmistakable because she was painfully thin and so pale she was almost transparent. It was hard to guess her age because illness had stolen so much of her physical presence. She wore a light blue head scarf and a loose, gray sweat suit. Amethyst studs dotted her ears, and she wore a matching, flower-shaped ring on her right hand.

“I’m Lydia,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“I’m Liz Minter, and this is my niece, Nicki Valentine,” Liz said, using two hands to cup Lydia’s bony grip. “We’re terribly sorry about what’s happened. I hope we can help.”

“I know you will. Mia’s told me about both of you.” She looked back into the condo. “She’s in the living room. Please come in.”

We followed her to a brown, leather sectional with Mia on one end, her stocking feet resting on an ottoman as she gazed at a flickering gas fireplace. Seeing us approach, she rose for hugs, clinging to Liz for an extra moment. I set the subs on a glass table and noted Bruce’s assortment of magazines and paperwork—travel brochures,
Men’s Fitness
,
Popular Science
.

“We were hoping to keep traveling this year,” Mia explained. “After our honeymoon to Hawaii next week. Oh my God. I don’t know if I should cancel that.”

“Frank will take care of it,” Lydia said. “Don’t worry.” She looked at me. “He’s my ex—Bruce’s dad.”

I nodded, glad Lydia and Mia had support, although I knew Mia’s parents were staying in town, too. “Have the police found any sign of Bruce or his car?” I hoped I wasn’t jumping into details too quickly.

“No,” Mia said. We all sat down except Lydia. “They were here this morning, but they didn’t have anything new. I checked Bruce’s luggage, and only his wallet, phone, and hotel key were missing. Even my wedding band was there. They’re reviewing the security footage again, but so far they don’t have any leads.”

“Tell me again about when and where Bruce was last seen,” I said.

“The groomsmen said goodbye to him around one fifteen a.m. and went back to their rooms. That was it.”

Lydia nodded. “That’s what I heard, too. Please excuse me while I get my meal.”

“Oh, I can get it, Lydia,” Mia said.

“No, no,” Lydia protested. “It feels good to be up.”

“Do you have
any
idea what happened?” Liz asked Mia after Lydia was out of earshot.

Mia shook her head. Her eyes were puffy and distant.

“I really don’t. I don’t think he’d leave her.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “And before the wedding, I thought we were fine, but now I’m questioning everything.”

“Like what?” I asked. “Were there any red flags or warning signs?”

“I can’t think of any,” she said. “The wedding was distracting, though, and we didn’t live together. What if I missed something?”

“Can you think of anyone who had a problem with Bruce? Family, friends, coworkers, anyone?”

“No. He’s overworked at his dad’s company, PreTechTion. But he likes his job, and he didn’t mention trouble with anyone.”

After asking about drugs, alcohol, gambling, illnesses, suicide, and other uncomfortable possibilities, we moved on to intimate relationships. “What about exes—for either of you?” I said. “I heard there was one at the reception, but I didn’t get to meet him. Austin something?”

“Austin was there? I didn’t invite him, but one of our friends probably texted him about Bruce. We broke up a long time ago, but he’s always cared about me. If anything, Bruce has a problem with him. As for Bruce’s exes, they live in Florida. He didn’t have any serious relationships before me, anyway, just short-term things. We met as soon as he transferred to Maryland State.”

“Would you mind giving us Austin’s contact information, just in case we need to check with him at some point?”

“I’ll text you his cell number. His last name is Fry, spelled F-r-y. He lives in King County. I’m not sure where.”

“Okay,” I said.

“What does Lydia think?” Liz asked.

“She’s as shocked and worried as I am, if not more.”

“What about the whole medium thing?” I whispered. “Can that help?”

“I don’t know. I sure hope so. It might be all we’ve got.”

Mia gave me a tour of Bruce’s well-appointed condo, and I made the most of it, peeking into his medicine cabinet and closets and complimenting photos in which Mia’s California-girl looks contrasted with Bruce’s dark hair and hazel eyes. The only standout was a giant TV in his bedroom and a collection of DC Bandits football memorabilia that included what looked like another prototype helmet.

“Bruce is a Bandits freak,” Mia said. “I know it sounds crazy, but on top of everything else, he wouldn’t miss today’s game. He wanted to see it here, where no one would interrupt.”

“Were you planning to watch with him?”

“No. He gets really emotional about games, so I make myself scarce. Today would have been an exception. I was planning to open wedding gifts and write thank-you notes while he watched.”

“My dad was like that,” I said. “We’d leave the house, or he would, during games.” It was one of the few times I’d heard him curse.

We headed back to the living room, where Lydia and Liz were waiting.

At Mia’s request, Liz said a brief prayer, and we ate subs while Lydia sipped her “meal”—a probiotic-rich, lactose-free drink. I was uncomfortable eating in front of her, but she insisted she was used to it, and she didn’t want to be alone.

I wished Liz and I had discussed the medium issue on the way over. She believed in life after death, but chatting with the dead might be another story.

“Lydia,” I said, “I understand you’re a medium, and I don’t know exactly how that works, but could it help with finding Bruce?”

“I appreciate your asking,” she said. “I hope so, but it’s rare for me to get messages about family members. Leading up to the wedding, though, I’d been blessed with an unusual sense of peace. I thought it was about my transplant, but now I don’t know. I hope it means Bruce is okay.”

That didn’t relieve me; it freaked me out. What if it meant Bruce was
resting in peace
? I looked at Mia with concern, but she was staring at the fireplace, in her own world.

“Nicki,” Lydia said. “I actually started sensing something right before you arrived. What does the letter
J
mean to you?”

Uh-oh. I didn’t want to fall for a medium trick.
J
was probably the most common letter in names. It certainly was in my family.
Jason
.
Jack
. And
John
, my late father. I looked at Liz, whose hands were tightly folded in her lap. She arched a brow as if to say,
This is awkward. What are you going to do about it?

I felt like saying, “Well,
J
is probably for
Jesus
, and He’s coming through for my aunt,”
only because I was desperate to discuss anything other than Jason—not to mention my late father, a retired pilot and extraordinary “Grampy” to my kids. For now, I pictured him flying the friendly skies. Just looking up made me feel connected.

“
J
means a lot to me,” I said. “I don’t even know where to start. Why do you ask? Specifically, I mean.”

“Well there’s a male energy related to the letter
J
coming forward, and I think it’s for you.”

“I don’t think…” I started.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Lydia interrupted. She bolted out of the room, down the hall, and into Bruce’s bedroom. I looked at Mia, who had snapped to attention.

“She’s in Bruce’s bathroom,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Do you think I offended her?” I asked.

“Oh, no. It’s her illness. Do you know about it?”

Liz and I looked at each other and nodded
yes
.

“It’s horrible,” Mia continued. “She can leave the house for short trips, but she always needs to be near a bathroom, preferably a private one. Some days are worse than others. That’s why she couldn’t attend the wedding. She says it’s worse than chemo, and a transplant is her best hope. They’ve tried a few medications, including some really expensive ones, and they help, but not enough.”

Liz made the sign of the cross and closed her eyes momentarily. Mia and I knew her well enough to stay silent, respectful of the occasional prayers she said throughout the day. I appreciated the chance to join in.

“Maybe we should go,” I said when Liz was done.

“No,” Mia insisted. “This is exactly why you should stay.”

Before I could ask more about the transplant, my phone buzzed. I peeked at it and saw a text from Dean.

On the way up with Bruce’s dad. Will explain when I get there. He wants to hire us. Play it cool.

Play it cool? I wanted to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, but why would he surprise me like this, especially with Bruce’s father?

I relayed the general message to Mia and Liz.