Vanessa Gray Bartal - Lacy Steele 07 - Icy Grip of Murder (6 page)

He chuckled as if he sensed her
thoughts, adding to her discomfort. “Come on.” He exited the car, Lacy and
Jason in his wake. He headed confidently across the empty campus to an equally
desolate-looking building. Just when Lacy was beginning to think he was
mistaken and there was no one there, a man poked his head around the edge of
the building. The rest of him followed, and Lacy had to fight her gag reflex.
She had never seen feet like those. It wasn’t just that they were dirty; they
were actually encased in mud, like Dutch clogs made out of dirt. They were
adobe. There were years and years of soil on those feet, so much that she
suspected that the mud gave him a solid inch of height. She couldn’t tear her
gaze from them. Bile rose in the back of her throat.

“Michael?” Flea said.

“Hey, what’s up?” Michael called.

“I heard you were in jail,” Flea
said.

“I busted out,” Michael said.
Though Lacy knew he was joking, Flea nodded, accepting the joke as fact. “How
about a cup of your lousy coffee?”

“All right,” Flea said, his tone
was more grudging than hospitable. They followed him into a wooden
cafeteria-style building, empty except for them. Lacy kept a watchful eye and a
careful distance from the feet. There was no way she wanted to accidentally
step on one or, worse, be accidentally stepped on by one. The coffee was
already brewed. It sat next to a tray of pre-wrapped bakery snacks of dubious
expiration date. Jason picked one up anyway, shooting Flea a questioning look
as he did so.

“Help yourself, but they’re from
last season,” Flea said.

“These things never expire. Too
many chemicals,” Jason said as he eagerly unwrapped a bear claw and scarfed it
down. They followed Flea to one of the long tables and sat, them on one side
and Flea on the other. The situation smacked of an interrogation. Michael,
probably sensing the same, tried to diffuse the tension with small talk.

Lacy tucked her feet as far under
the bench as she dared, not wanting to risk contact with the mud clogs.

“How have you been?” Michael asked.

“The same. You know,” Flea said. He
stared at his coffee.

“Still dating Lily?”

“Now and then,” Flea said.

“I notice you’re not in jail,”
Michael said.

“I’m clean now,” Flea said.

Michael snorted a laugh. Flea’s
smile grew.

“I’m smarter now,” he amended. His
glance slid to Jason. “Why’d you bring a cop?”

“How did you know?” Lacy blurted.

“Looks like a cop, smells like a
cop, eats pastries like a cop,” Flea said.

“Cool it, he’s one of the good
ones,” Michael said.

“No such thing,” Flea said,
scowling at Jason. Jason ignored him and eyed the pastries again.

“Look, Flea, I came here for some
answers,” Michael said.

Flea shifted in his seat. To Lacy
it looked like he was trying not to squirm. She resisted the urge to sit
protectively on her feet. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Jenny.”

“Jenny’s dead. They say you killed
her,” Flea said.

“We both know that’s not true.
Where is she?”

“What are you talking about?” Flea repeated.

“I know she’s alive, and I know you
know where she is,” Michael said. Lacy thought he was bluffing. Flea squinted
at him, probably wondering the same thing.

“I know she’s dead,” Flea said.

“Then where’s the body?”

“You tell me.”

“What kind of deal did she work
with you? Must be something big for her to be in hiding all this time and
everyone to keep quiet about it,” Michael said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” Flea said.

One minute Michael was beside Lacy.
The next he was flying across the table, arms outstretched. He landed on Flea,
pinning him with both arms around his throat. Lacy yelped and turned to Jason
who seemed oblivious to the situation. The feet were everywhere. Pieces of mud
chipped off and flew around the room. She screamed and backed up until she
reached another table, putting up her hands to avoid getting hit by flying mud.

“Are you going to do something
about that?” she asked Jason.

“He seems to have it under
control,” Jason said.

“Jason,” she started, but he cut
her off.

“Lacy, it’s a different subculture.
He has to communicate in a way he understands. Trust me, this isn’t abnormal
behavior.”

Maybe not, but the fact that Jason
stood, skirted the two struggling men, and poured himself another cup of coffee
seemed abnormal to her. Michael still had the upper hand, however, so perhaps
Jason had a point. If their friend needed him, he would surely jump in.
Wouldn’t he? At least she was now at a safe enough distance from the flying
mud. She forced her eyes away from the feet and to Flea’s face.

“I don’t know where she is!” Flea
yelled, his voice a choked whisper as the air slowly left his windpipe.

“But you do know she’s alive,”
Michael said.

“That’s the rumor I heard, but I
haven’t seen her, and I don’t know where she is,” Flea said.

Michael eased up the pressure and
stared at him. “Why? Why didn’t you come forward with this when I was being
accused of murder?”

Flea sat up and rubbed his neck.
“Because if Jenny is alive, I’m more scared of her than I am of you.”

After the heated
tousle on the floor, there wasn’t much left to say.
Lacy tried to
maintain some sense of manners by thanking Flea for the coffee. The gesture he
gave her said her attempt was unappreciated. She had never been happier to
leave a person or a place in her life. She would see those feet for many nights
in her dreams, she was sure.

“Where next?” she asked as they
traipsed to the car. The camp cafeteria had minimal heat, if any, and her toes
were numb. She huddled closer to Jason who offered her his hat. She shook her
head. She was cold, but not that cold.

“Next we see Bug,” Michael said.

“You’re kidding me,” Lacy said.

“We’re a group of miscreants in
northern Minnesota. What did you expect us to call ourselves? The Socials and
the Greasers?” Michael said.

“’Stay gold,
Ponyboy
,’”
Jason interjected.

“What are the other nicknames?”
Lacy asked.

“Louse and Larva.”

“Why insects?” Lacy asked.

“Because insects scurry where no
one else goes,” Michael said. “It sounded good when I was sixteen and came up
with it.”

“What’s your handle?” Jason asked.

“Cockroach,” Michael said. “Because
I’m uncatchable and
unkillable
. It’s probably a
better nickname for Jenny now, though. She’s going to have to change it when we
find her.”

“What’s her nickname?” Lacy asked.

“Lassie,” Michael said.

“Why?” Lacy asked.

“You don’t want to know. You would
not approve,” Michael said.

Lacy crinkled her nose trying to
imagine what she wouldn’t approve of. The list was longer than she wanted to
admit. She was definitely out of her element with Michael and his “friends.”

“Where does Bug work?”

“Auto shop,” Michael said. They
pulled up in front of a typical looking auto repair shop. It was dingy with
large windows and doors. The only difference between this one and the ones back
home was that the windows were iced on the outside and fogged inside, making it
impossible to see anything. But when they stepped out of the car, a man came
outside to meet them, as if he had been watching for them.
As if he had been warned,
Lacy thought.

“Man, it’s good to see you,” Bug
greeted Michael. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just stopping by to ask a
few questions,” Michael said. Bug’s glance fell questioningly on Lacy and
Jason, lingering inappropriately on Lacy who resisted the urge to shrink away.
The man did resemble a bug with beady eyes and a constant shifting motion. All
that was missing were a pair of antennae. A few tattoos peeked out from beneath
his clothing, but Lacy couldn’t tell what they were.

“This is my friend, Lacy,” Michael
said, drawing Lacy protectively closer. Jason shifted, too, but his attempt at
protection feel short when his feet slipped and he toppled backwards.

“And her boyfriend, Jerry Lewis,”
Michael added. Lacy bent to help Jason up, dusting the snow from his backside.

“There must be some black ice,”
Jason said, looking down to study the ground. Lacy looked down, too. She saw
nothing.

“It’s freezing out here, man. Can
we go somewhere warm and talk?” Michael asked.

“I don’t have much time,” Bug said.
“What do you want?”

“I know Jenny’s alive. I want to
know where she is and what she’s up to,” Michael said.

“What makes you think I know?” Bug
asked.

“Do you?”

“No.” At Michael’s disbelieving
look, he continued. “Look, Jenny’s always had her own agenda, you know? She
could be anywhere, doing anything. Who knows if she’s even still around here?
She always talked about doing something big, bigger than here. She’s probably
miles away.”

“Jenny could never make it anywhere
else. She’s a big fish in a little pond here,” Michael said.

“Jenny could make it anywhere,” Bug
said vehemently. Realizing his mistake, he tried to backpedal. “I mean, if
she’s even still alive.
Which I doubt.
I wouldn’t know
because I haven’t seen her.”

“If you do, if you happen to
miraculously stumble upon her and find her still breathing, tell her I want to
meet,” Michael said. He turned and led the way back to the car while Bug
slipped nervously back inside the shop.

“Do you think that’s wise, to meet
with Jenny?” Lacy asked when they were back inside the car. She held out her
hands to the heater and tried to warm them, but the air felt tepid at best. “By
all accounts, she’s psychotic and probably dangerous.”

“I can handle myself with Jenny,”
Michael said.

“Except when she frames you for
murder,” Lacy said.

“We have another tail,” Jason
announced.

Lacy turned to see
a gray sedan two cars lengths
behind the police car. “Do you
think that’s Jenny?”

“I don’t know. That would be a bold
move, even for her. My guess is that she’s holed up somewhere and probably
hating it. If I taunt her enough, it might draw her out,” Michael said.

“Then who’s in the gray car?” Lacy
asked.

“Could be anyone. I don’t recognize
the car,” Michael said.

“That’s not comforting,” Lacy said.

“I could try to see who it is at
our next stop,” he said.

“What is our next stop?” Jason
asked. He sounded hopeful.

“It’s not food,” Michael said.
Jason sat back, dejected. “We’re going to see Louse.”

“Where?” Lacy asked.

“Jewelry store.”

“A person named Louse works in a jewelry
store?” she asked.

“No, a person named Louse
owns
a jewelry store,” he said.

“But I thought he was a criminal,”
she said.

“Where do you think he gets his
jewelry?” Michael said. “He’s talented at changing it just enough to make it
unrecognizable.”

“What’s your plan?” Jason asked.

“I’m going to send you guys in
while I circle around back and try to figure out who’s in the gray car,”
Michael said.

“If the police see you, they might
think you’re running. They’ll pick you up,” Lacy said.

“Then I’ll have to make sure they
don’t see me,” Michael said.

“Want me to come with you?” Jason
asked.

“Normally? Maybe. Today? No. Go
with Lacy. I don’t want her to see Louse alone. If he realizes she’s with me,
it might not go over well.”

The town was small. Within minutes,
they arrived at a jewelry shop. Lacy walked between the two men on the way to
the store, but when she turned to ask Michael a question, he was gone.

“How does he do that?” she asked.

“Soft, tiny feet,” Jason answered
as he opened the door for her. A bell over the door tinkled, and they had the
immediate attention of the store’s proprietor, Louse. He didn’t look like a
Louse, but Lacy had learned through her ex that appearances could be deceiving.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Louse
asked. His appearance was surprising, almost the opposite of Flea and Bug in
every way. He was nattily dressed in a three-piece suit. The vest bulged over a
slightly paunchy belly. It was plaid, but more English looking than Jason’s
buffalo check shirt. His hair was parted starkly on the side and slicked over,
and he had a bottlebrush mustache. A large orange cat lay on the glass counter.
Louse stroked it gently. He reminded her of someone, but
who
?
After a minute of staring, she figured it out: Teddy Roosevelt. The only thing
missing was a monocle. When he opened his mouth, Lacy half expected him to
shout, “Bully!”

Lacy and Jason looked around the
shop in dismay. They hadn’t thought of a cover. Luckily, he provided one for
them. “Here to look at rings?”

“Yes,” Jason said decisively as he
took Lacy’s hand and practically dragged her forward.
 

“We have an excellent selection,”
Louse said as he let go of the cat and reached behind the glass case and began
setting out trays of diamond rings.

“Um,” Lacy began but didn’t know where
to go. She had grown so comfortable in her relationship with Jason that she was
surprised by the amount of panic the rings gave her.

“These aren’t right,” Jason said.
“Do you have something vintage, something from the 1890’s through the 1920’s,
something with filigree and maybe an emerald cut?”

Lacy and Louse stared at him.
“What? I know things about jewelry,” Jason said.

“Over here,” Louse said. “These
aren’t traditional engagement rings, but they might work.”

They shifted a few feet to the left
and bent over the tray. “See anything you like?” Jason asked. He was teasing
her, enjoying her discomfort. She could tell by his tone.

She peered closer and surveyed the
rings. “This one,” she said, selecting a large heirloom diamond.

She held out her hand for Louse,
but he picked up the ring and gave it to Jason with the words, “Good practice.”

Jason took the ring and now Lacy
wasn’t the only one who looked distinctly uncomfortable. They turned toward
each other. He took her hand, the ring hovering over her finger. Suddenly
everything felt too real. Lacy’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat. Jason may
have been sweating too, but it was hard for her to tell under the hat.

“What is going on in here?”

They had been so intent on the
rings that they hadn’t heard Michael enter the store. “I leave you alone for
ten minutes and you’re getting engaged?”

“We were just looking,” Lacy said,
tearing her hand away and tucking it under her armpit. Jason dropped the ring
as if it were suddenly molten. Louse pounced on it and rearranged it back in
the tray. Lacy noted that his hands were also shaking now.

“Cockroach,” he said when the tray
was put away.

“Louse,” Michael said. “You don’t
seem surprised to see me. I wonder who could have told you I was coming?”

“I heard the cops picked you up. It
was a no-brainer that you’d be by sometime.”

“Was it? Because I wouldn’t be here
if I didn’t need information.”

“About what?” Louse asked, trying
and failing to play dumb. Of all the insects, he so far seemed the smartest.

“Where’s Jenny?”

“Let’s go in my office and discuss
this like rational people,” Louse said. They followed him to a small, dark
paneled office, abundant with pictures of leaping horses and fox chases. On the
wall behind his desk was a picture of Winston Churchill and a quote: “Never,
never, never give up.”

Just when Lacy was beginning to
think she had found one of Michael’s friends to relate to, he began setting
objects on his desk. First came a penny, then a pair of shears, followed by
several knives. She and Jason shared a look. What was he doing?

Michael got straight to the point.
“Where’s Jenny?”

“You think I know?” Louse said. He
picked up one of the knives and held it aloft. “Never needs sharpened.”

“I think you all know,” Michael
said.

“No way. I got out of that group a
long time ago. I’m trying to run a business here,” Louse said. He picked up a
piece of paper and used the knife to slice it cleanly in two. “Perfectly
honed.”

“All right, theoretically let’s
pretend that you have some insight into Jenny’s thought process. I get that she
framed me because she was mad about our impending breakup. Why do you think she
faked her death in the first place? And why do you think she’s stayed hidden
all these years?”

“From what I remember of Jenny, the
only thing she liked better than power was money. She would have done it for
money and nothing else.” He picked up the penny and showed it to them. The
gesture was reminiscent of a magician. Lacy wondered if he was going to pull
the penny out of one of their ears soon.

“What money?” Michael asked.

Louse shrugged. “How should I know?
I haven’t seen her in years.” He picked up the shears and began cutting the
penny into a spiral. “Solid forged German steel. Nothing like it in the world.”
He finished cutting the penny and dropped it into Jason’s hand.

“If you do, tell her I’m looking
forward to seeing her. Is Larva still where we left him?” Michael asked.

“Still in the cocoon,” Louse said. Turning
his attention to Lacy and Jason, he said, “Free knife set with every ring
purchase.” He held up the knives and the kitchen shears, allowing the light to
gleam off the blades.

Jason turned questioningly to Lacy.
“Those are some nice knives. It cut a penny into a spiral.” He showed her the
penny.

“No,” Lacy said, shaking her head.

“Solid German steel,” he added.

“Do you really want to get engaged
over a knife set?” she asked. He blinked at her in surprise, as if he had
temporarily forgotten
their
pretend pending
engagement.

“I’ll throw in a paring knife,”
Louse added.

“No,” they answered together,
avoiding eye contact. They followed Michael outside, using him as a buffer
between them.

“Did you figure out who the tail
was?” Jason asked as they left the store.

“No. By the time I got there,
whoever it was had gone. The cop’s still there, though.” He tossed a wave to
the police officer
who
pretended not to notice. “They
probably think I’m activating my old gang for some kind of super heist. I wish
I were half as psychotic as they give me credit for.”

“Me, too,” Lacy said. “I don’t have
nearly enough psychopaths in my life. Are we really going to see Larva in the
‘cocoon’?”

“It’s the last stop of the day, I
promise. Except for supper,” he added when Jason opened his mouth to protest.

“What is a cocoon?”

“It’s his grandmother’s basement,”
Michael said.

“He lives in his grandmother’s
basement?” Jason said.

“When he’s not working planting
trees for the lumber company. During the high season, he travels between here
and Canada.”