Veiled Passages (14 page)

The girls were about to run into the back dressing room area when Ashley put a hand on both of their shoulders and stopped them. “You both wait here while I take a look first, okay?” she asked.

Nodding, the girls sidled up to Katie and watched Ashley disappear behind the curtains into the back room.  A few minutes later, Ashley walked back out, replacing her gun into its holster. “Everything’s fine back there, especially those two darling dresses,” she said.

“Can we go now?” Clarissa asked.

Ashley nodded. “Yes, go put them on,” she said. “I want to see how they look.”

Dashing past Ashley, through the curtains, they squealed with delight when they discovered the frilly flower girl dresses hanging in the large dressing room.

“Do you need any help?” Katie called.

“No,” Maggie yelled back. “We want to surprise you.”

Katie smiled and then turned to Ashley. “You know, sometimes I forget the danger Clarissa is in,” she said. “How does she…how do all of you deal with it?”

Shrugging, Ashley turned and met Katie’s eyes for a moment, and then turned back to watch the dressing room area. “For me, it’s part of my job,” she said. “Although, we both know it’s more than that. I don’t know how they deal with it.  I get to go home and not worry about someone coming after me.  But they don’t have that luxury and after last night…”

“Last night?” Katie asked urgently. “What happened last night?”

“Copper broke into the house while Margaret and Clarissa were home alone,” she replied. “Thank goodness they somehow were warned he was coming and hid down in the basement.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Katie mouthed softly.

“Anyway, as you can imagine, things are on high alert at the house,” Ashley finished.

“What can we do to help?” Katie asked. “Would it be better to have Clarissa stay with us?”

“No, I think they want to keep Clarissa as close as possible,” Ashley replied. “But, doing what you’re doing, helping Clarissa live somewhat of a normal life and helping Mary with some of the wedding details is actually a big deal.”

“Well, it’s not hard to help Clarissa,” Katie said. “She and Maggie are as thick as thieves.”

Clarissa helped zip up Maggie’s dress and then turned around to let Maggie do the same for her. “So, have you figured out how we are going to solve our first case?” Clarissa asked, looking over her shoulder at Maggie.

“You could maybe spend the night?” Maggie suggested, as she zipped the dress up.

Shaking her head, Clarissa turned back around. “No, the bad man tried to break into our house last night,” she explained. “So, I have to stay where I can be protected.”

“Well, that makes it kind of hard to be detectives if people are watching you all the time,” Maggie complained.

Sighing, Clarissa nodded, as she scooted up on the bench in the dressing room. “How ‘bout if we sneak out at night?” she said suddenly, her smile brightening.

“What about Mike?” Maggie asked.

“We could have Mike help,” Clarissa said. “We could tell him an old man is stuck somewhere dark and he’s dead.  Mike would help us.”

“Mike would tell Mary and Chief Alden,” Maggie replied.

“That’s what we could do,” Clarissa said.

“What?” Maggie asked.

“We could tell my daddy. He could help find Mr. Rupp for us,” she said.

“But, then it wouldn’t be our first case,” Maggie complained.

“Sure it would,” Clarissa said. “We’d make my daddy promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone else. So he’d be working with us, just like he works with Mary.

Maggie considered the idea for a moment and then finally nodded. “Okay, when Mr. Rupp comes to see me tonight, I’ll ask him what he remembers doing last, so we know where to send your daddy.”

Clarissa smiled brightly. “This is going to be great.”

“Yeah, isn’t your daddy going to be surprised?”

Chapter Thirty-one

 The house was finally quiet and Mary was enjoying some soft music as she studied the autopsy report once more, hoping to find something that she’d missed the first time. It was obvious that he died before he went underwater, but how could he drown while sitting up in a bathtub?

She sat back in the chair, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.  She replayed the scene from the hotel bathroom back in her mind.  No one had entered the room.  He had been alone.  Whoever killed him was able to do it remotely. How did someone asphyxiate a person remotely?

Picking up the report, she scanned it one more time. A word caught her eye.
Hemoptysis
. She hadn’t seen that before. Why would there be blood in his throat when he died?  That was generally caused by a bronchial irritation.  Had he been a smoker?  Had he had issues with his lungs prior to this?  Perhaps this was simply a natural occurrence.  She picked up a pen to jot down some notes when her mother called from upstairs.

“Mary, darling, Rosie and I need to speak with you for a few moments,” she said. “Would you mind running upstairs?”

Placing the pen down, she pushed the chair back and headed upstairs, absently walking up the stairs as she reviewed the case in her head.  She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, where the door was ajar and stopped at the threshold.

“So, what do you think?” her mother asked.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Mary looked at her mother. “I’m sorry. What?” she asked.

Her mother walked over to her, placed her arm around Mary’s shoulders and turned her toward the bed.  Her ivory wedding dress of satin, overlaid with Irish lace and the delicate matching veil were laid out on top of the bedspread. “Oh, Ma, it’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful bride,” Rosie sniffed, blotting her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Come on now,” Margaret said. “There’ll be plenty of time for tears later. Now we have to be sure it fits.  There’s nothing worse than a droopy wedding gown.”

Wiping her eyes once more, Rosie stuffed the handkerchief in her sleeve and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “We need to be sure it fits the way it should. Off with those jeans, young lady.”

Mary started to unbuckle the clasp and then stopped. “Wait, I need to take care of something first,” she said.

She stepped out of the bedroom and walked to the staircase. “Mike,” she called. “Mike, can you hear me?”

Appearing next to her, Mike leaned against the banister. “I’m always at your beck and call, babe,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“My mother and Rosie have my wedding dress ready for me to try on,” she began.

“And you realized the errors of your way and finally have decided to run away with me?” he asked.

“No, but good try,” she said with a chuckle. “Can you stay out of the bedroom while I change into my dress?  Please?”

“Well, of course,” he replied. “You didn’t even have to ask. I would never…”

“Oh, yes, you would,” she replied.

Laughing, as he faded away, she heard him whisper into her ear. “Oh, yes, I would.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed as she turned and hurried back down the hall to her room.  She let herself back in and smiled at Rosie and her mother. “Okay, ready,” she said, unbuckling her jeans and sliding them down her legs. “Just had to be sure we weren’t going to be disturbed.”

Once she was undressed, Rosie and Margaret held the dress, so she could step into it.  The body of the dress was form-fitting through the chest, waist and hips and then flared out from mid-thigh with a long train in the back.  Mary slipped her arms through the lace three-quarter length sleeves and adjusted the princess neckline. “What do you think?” she asked, almost afraid to turn around and look into her full-length mirror.

“Just a minute,” her mother said from behind her. “Now comes the fun part, cinching the corset back. Rosie, give me a hand, will you?”

The two women threaded the satin material through the loops on the back of the dress, tightening it as they went along.  The dress molded nearer to Mary’s body with each layer of lacing. “I don’t think I can remember when my waist was as tiny as this,” Margaret said, as she tugged on the ribbons.

“I can,” Rosie said. “I was four years old and about three feet high.”

Margaret laughed as she finished the final threading, tied ribbons together at the base of the corset and pushed the excess material beneath the skirting.  She stepped back and looked at her daughter. “Ah, you look like a princess,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”

Rosie pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve and dapped at her eyes again. “Simply perfect,” she said, slipping her arm around Margaret’s waist. “Thank you for sharing her with me.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Mary warned, as she lifted the heavy skirt of the dress and turned towards the mirror. “I don’t want to stain my dress with my own tears. I’m sure it’s bad luck.”

She stared at herself in the mirror and inhaled softly as tears filled her eyes. It was perfect. It was as if the dress had been made for her, rather than for her great-grandmother. The ivory color made her skin glow and the lines of the dress made her waist look tiny.

Her mother came up behind her and fastened the long lace veil in her hair. It swept along the sides of her face and fell down her back, lying on top of the train.  She looked at her daughter in the mirror. “You’re a vision, you are,” she whispered, clasping Mary’s hand in her own. “Thank you for wearing the dress; my heart is filled to overflowing.”

“I couldn’t have been married in anything else,” Mary said, leaning over and kissing her mother. “I love it, Ma. It’s just perfect.”

Rosie blew her nose loudly into her hankie and then reached into her pocket. “I know I’m not family,” she said, coming up behind Mary. “But you’ve always made me feel like I’m your sister.”

Margaret raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat.

“I mean, an aunt,” she amended, with a grin. “A much-older-than-your-mother aunt, as a matter-of-fact, and I would be honored if you would allow me to give you my pearls to wear with your dress.”

She stood up on her toes behind Mary, slipped the ivory strand of pearls over her neck and fastened them in the back.  The pearls gleamed softly against Mary’s skin, flawless and identical; lying just below her collarbone, they were the perfect accessory to the dress. 

Lifting her hand, Mary brushed the smooth texture of the pearls with her fingertips. “They’re beautiful, Rosie,” she said. “Thank you.”

Rosie handed her a black jewelry box. “There are earrings that match, inside the box,” she said. “After Stanley gave me his family pearls on our wedding day, I knew I wanted to give these to you.”

Mary turned and hugged Rosie tightly. “They are just perfect,” she said. “I will treasure them always.”

Margaret handed Mary a tissue and Mary laughed as she wiped the tears away. “This is supposed to be a happy time,” she sniffed.

“There’s nothing wrong with tears of joy,” Margaret said. “Now wipe your face and we’ll help you out of your dress before Bradley gets here.”

“Oh, yes, he can’t see you in it,” Rosie agreed, “It’s bad luck.”

“And the one thing this wedding doesn’t need is bad luck,” Mary agreed.

Chapter Thirty-two

The call came in at the end of the day, Sean’s shift was over, but that meant nothing.  He shoved his gun into his shoulder holster, clicked his service belt around his waist and jogged through the station to the parking lot.  He slipped into his vehicle, turned on the siren and headed to the location of the latest victim. 

“What we got?” he asked, as he met a young officer on the scene.

“Young kid, ten, maybe twelve years old, sir,” the officer replied, wiping sweat from his forehead. “He’s bad. I mean really. I ain’t ever seen nothing like this.”

Sean patted the young man’s shoulder. “And if you’re lucky, you won’t see too many of these in your lifetime.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

Sean strode to the crime scene and his stomach instantly revolted.  He immediately wished he hadn’t had those two hot dogs for lunch. The kid was gutted, like a deer. His entrails spilled out on the sidewalk from the place where his abdomen used to be. Like the other vics, there was no chance they would be able to visually identify him.  They were going to have to do dental records or DNA testing and hopefully match something with a missing persons report.
Damn it!

“Do we have anything?” he asked the medical examiner, Maria Draper, leaning over the body.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with weariness. “Shit, Sean, this has got to stop,” she said, her voice modulated because of her surroundings, but he knew she was screaming in her mind.

Nodding, he knelt down next to her. “Yeah, I know,” he replied calmly. “You got anything?”

Turning abruptly away from him, he saw her brush her sleeve over her eyes. “He was only a kid,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do you remember what you were doing when you were a kid? Not being attacked by a damn monster, I’d bet.”

A fleeting remembrance of a forest passed through Sean’s memory, but he shoved it away, concentrating on the scene in front of him.

“No, the only thing I was afraid of when I was his age was my dad…and girls,” he said to her, trying to bring a little normality to the situation.

She chuckled involuntarily. “Yeah, but you’re still afraid of girls.”

“And my dad,” he confessed.

Shuddering, she took a moment to pull herself together. The woman, the professional, who faced him this time had all of her emotions in check.  “The time of death was within the last three hours,” she said. “The cause of death was multiple lacerations, it looks like the initial cut was made along the fourth cervical vertebra and lacerated the carotid sheath. The power, angle and sharpness of the weapon allowed it to pierce the jugular vein, the carotid artery and the vagus nerve, which is basically the main communicator from the brain to the rest of the body.”

“So he was dead with the first cut?” Sean asked.

“Well, he was paralyzed,” she responded. “But he probably had brain function for another four or five minutes.”