5 Highball Exit (19 page)

CHAPTER 44

I put Aunt Kay’s check in the bank and then I went to see her. She looked better, but her spirits hadn’t improved.

“What do you want me to do today?”

Aunt Kay’s lips pursed. “Maybe it’s time we minded our own business.”

“Well, that’s up to you, but I don’t give rebates.” She almost smiled. “You’re giving up?” She turned her face away from me. “After all we’ve done, you’re calling it quits?”

“It’s better that way,” she told the wall.

“Well, I’m not quitting until I find Angel or run out of places to look.”

“Why do you care?” She turned to look at me now. “You’re only doing it for the money and I don’t want it back.”

“I’m not ready to give up. So you just lie there and forget Angel if you want, but I’m not going to.”

She frowned.

I went to the bed and bent over her, my lips up close to her ear. I whispered, “I know where Angel is.”

“Where?”

I grinned and said, “I thought you weren’t interested.” I headed for the door. Ashley’s studio was on Palmetto. Even before I got to the door and read the paper taped to the glass, I knew the dance studio was out of business. There was no suggestion as to when, or even whether, it might open again.

Ashley lived within walking distance, only a few blocks away in a small Spanish house built in the twenties, but it was just too damn hot to walk.

When I pulled into the driveway the first of my questions was answered. A stroller sat beside the little stoop of the pretty house with a
FOR SALE
sign on the lawn.

I bent over and picked up a small white lamb from the front step. The little toy was silky in my hand, soft and yielding as I ran my palm over it. Birds sang and screams of delight came from kids enjoying a pool somewhere close. Nothing bad could ever happen here. All I had to do was drive away.

I pressed the doorbell.

Ashley opened the door and her face lit up. “Sherri!” She stepped back and held the door wide. “Come in.” A little cherub, with auburn curls, rode her left hip.

I’d been a serious underachiever in high school while Ashley was the girl who did it all. Student council, cheerleader and A student, Ashley worked hard at everything and was always perfect. Today, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore no makeup, unheard of for the Ash I knew.

The child reached out for me with both hands. My heart fluttered and I responded by opening my arms, but it was the toy she wanted, not me. She grabbed it in her hands and drew it to her mouth with a yelp of delight.

“It was on the ground,” I said, ready to take it away from her. “No worries.” Ashley laughed. “Lily is immune to dirt.” She pivoted back into the room, moving with the grace of the dancer she’d been since childhood. “Come on in and ignore the mess. I’ve learned to.”

She was right, the place was a disaster. Toys and baby equipment were everywhere and you could no longer see the beautiful arched plaster fireplace Ashley had been so proud to own. Two upholstered chairs had been pushed together in front of the fireplace to protect a curious toddler from the danger of falling on the raised marble hearth. All the wrought-iron furniture was gone and the white sectional was covered with old limp quilts, collapsing down the back onto the seat cushions.

From house proud to home disaster, all in one small bundle but Ashley was happier than I’d ever seen her. She didn’t question why I was there, just nattered nonstop about feeding and diapers and all sorts of things, events that seemed world-shatteringly important to her, pleased to see an old friend and have a little relief from her routine. Most of all she talked about how much she loved Lily.

Ashley handed Lily to me while she went to make coffee. Lily’s soft reddish curls brushed against my face. The eyes she turned up to me were blue, just like Holly’s. And Sunny was right, Lily’s mouth was a perfect rosebud.

She took being hugged by a stranger as a normal occurrence, alternating between chewing on the lamb and pounding it on her lap. Once in a while she stopped to tug on the gold chain I was wearing.

I couldn’t bring myself to mention my reason for visiting in front of Lily. She wouldn’t know what we were saying but it just wouldn’t be right.

“How come you’re moving?” I asked as Ashley sank onto a chair across the table from me.

“Josh has a great job offer in Tallahassee but the house hasn’t sold.” She gave a wry little laugh. “Don’t know why. We’ve got it in showroom condition.”

“It must be impossible to show a house with a baby.” I laid my cheek against the silky curls.

“Yeah, the minute the realtor calls and says he’s bringing someone by I start running around cleaning. Lily comes right behind me and it’s undone as fast as I fix it. And of course, every three seconds you have to pull her away from something.”

“Maybe I could come over and take Lily for a walk while you get ready for the showing.” The offer popped out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

“Oh, Sherri, would you really?”

“Sure.” Lily yawned.

“About time too,” Ashley said and plucked Lily out of my arms. “Be right back.”

Lily watched me over her mother’s shoulder, one plump little arm bouncing up and down almost as if she were waving goodbye.

“I have something to tell you,” I said when Ashley returned.

She went to the coffee pot. “What’s up?”

“Holly Mitchell is dead.”

The carafe slammed back into its holder. The face she turned to me was full of alarm but she didn’t ask why I was telling her this. “What happened to her?”

“She committed suicide last Sunday.” She gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.

I went to her and led her back to the table. I picked up the coffee pot and filled our cups. She sat across from me in total shock.

“Lily is Holly’s baby, Angel, isn’t she?” She nodded.

“There is something you have to know.” I reached out for her hands and took them in mine. “Holly was
HIV
-positive.”

It hurt to see her face. “Listen to me, listen. From what I read online, the prenatal testing Holly got before Lily was born would have shown if Holly was
HIV
-positive. Holly would never have kept that from you. I don’t think Holly contracted the virus until after Lily was born.”

There was no need for me to tell Ashley to get Lily tested. She’d be on to the pediatrician before I was out of the drive.

“How on earth did you end up with Lily?”

She pulled her hands away from mine and took a deep breath. “I met Holly up at a mall in Sarasota. She had Lily with her. She asked if the in vitro had worked. It hadn’t and I told her we were waiting to hear about getting a baby from China. It’s such a long process. I told her I had everything, a crib, changing table, diapers, but no baby. She called a few days later and asked if I could keep Angel for her. I said yes. I thought it would be like a practice run but right away it got serious. Josh and I both fell in love with Lily and every time the phone rang we thought it was Holly wanting her back.”

Tears ran down her face, silently and unheeded. “Last week Holly called and told us we could keep Lily forever.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“She said she was sick and wouldn’t be able to look after Lily. She asked if we would go to a lawyer and have legal papers for Lily’s adoption drawn up for her to sign. We went up to Sarasota last Friday and met her in a coffee shop.”

Her voice broke. “She signed the papers and gave us a letter to give to Lily when she grew up.”

“Did she tell you anything else?”

“She told us Dan Raines was the father. She said he didn’t know about the baby, said Dan had a baby the same age. She didn’t want him to know about Lily right now, said Lily could tell him when she was ready.”

CHAPTER 45

My cell rang as I walked to the truck. “Hi,” Dan said. “You got good news.” He laughed. “I had the antibody test. It was negative.”

“Does that mean you’re safe?”

“Yup, I’d have it by now.”

“I’m glad, Dan. Now you can get on with your life.”

“I intend to. I was scared shitless. I’m going to be the most faithful husband in the world.”

I opened the door and threw my bag in. “I still don’t get how you came to be the one who found Holly.”

He sighed. “She kept calling my cell that day. Told me she had to talk to me, insisted I call her. I ignored her calls. She called again, around suppertime, sounding pretty desperate, said she had something important to tell me. I was afraid if I didn’t talk to her she’d call the house. When I took a break I was at a gas station and there was a public phone outside the washroom. I just wanted to tell her to stop calling me. I called her but she didn’t answer. I called the station, made an anonymous call, knowing that, as the car in place, I’d be the one sent to check it out. She was dead when I got there. I checked the apartment to make sure there was nothing to tie me to her. There wasn’t. It was really clean, everything packed up. She used to keep a journal but I couldn’t find it. What do you suppose happened to that? Maybe she put it in the garbage.”

“Or maybe someone else did.”

“Whatever. She’d cleaned everything out, looked like she was moving or something. Doesn’t matter now. She sure didn’t leave anything behind. I’m safe.”

And that’s all that mattered to him—he was safe. Angel, Holly, well, they were just by-products of his happiness. His world was fine. “Dan, can you find out about a guy named Ryan Vachess for me?”

“No.” The volume of his response had me holding the phone away from my ear.

Silence stretched between us as we both got control of our anger. Finally, he said, “What about the baby, did you find her?”

“No. Apparently Holly gave her baby up for adoption. It probably was a private arrangement. It doesn’t look like Holly told anyone who the baby went to. Everything to do with Angel is a deep dark secret. Even her own mother didn’t know Holly had a child.”

I dug my keys out of my pocket. “Seems Holly could keep things quiet when she wanted to, so you’re off the hook.” I didn’t even try to hide my bitterness.

“I’d do the right thing if the child is alone.”

“Forget it. Holly already did the right thing. Get on with your life. You have a family to look after.”

“Does this guy, Vachess, have anything to do with the baby?”

I was surprised he remembered the name. “No, he’s just someone Holly knew.”

“Okay, but there’s something else from the autopsy.” He sounded reluctant and unsure, like maybe he would regret telling me.

“I hate to think what else could’ve happened to Holly.”

“Holly was using crystal meth.”

“It’s too damn depressing. Addiction, giving up her child, and
HIV
? She sure had enough reasons to head for the door.”

“There’s one more.” I waited.

“Sherri . . .” He sounded like he was about to say more than he wanted to, more than he should. “The name of the guy who was paying for Holly’s apartment is Dusty Harrison.”

I’d forgotten about Dusty. “Why are you telling me?”

“I’ve been wondering if Harrison gave Holly
HIV
.”

“Why do you care?”

“C’mon, I had feelings for Holly, but I was terrified of losing my wife and my job. Maybe even my life.”

“So now all that’s safe, why don’t you go ask Harrison if he infected Holly?”

“I can’t afford to. I get caught running around asking about a dead girl . . . well, it wouldn’t do my career any good.”

“Best not to then.”

“Still . . . see what you can do, Sherri.”

“Not much I can do—or want to do.”

“You can talk to him in a language he’s sure to understand.”

“What makes this my job?”

“Holly had been systematically beaten over a long period of time. If he was the one keeping her he probably was the one beating on Holly for fun. If for no other reason, ruining Dusty’s day will make the trip worthwhile.”

Rage jolted me. “Now that sounds like a good time. Where do I find this bastard?”

“Got a pencil?”

“Just happens that I do.”

CHAPTER 46

Only rich people live on Lido Key . . . not moderately wealthy people, but the filthy rich kind like Dusty Harrison.

The house on the bay, facing Sarasota across the water, was well back from the street. The black wrought-iron gates, designed to look like a piece of sheet music, stood open. If I could read music I bet the gates held the stupid Christmas tune that had paid for all this estate.

In this neighborhood there was sure to be private security. Thick plantings lined the curving drive and concealed the house, but I saw no signs of any security, nothing to stop me entering the grounds. I followed the drive to where it curled around a fountain in front of the house. On either side of the front door, the yews continued the musical theme, cut into the shape of treble clefs.

At the front door I saw the first signs of security—cameras mounted on the house. Still, it wasn’t much.

The fury that had brought me here was fading. I was beginning to think confronting Harrison wasn’t a good idea, telling myself that Holly was dead and nothing could change that. Still, all the things she’d suffered? I wanted some revenge for her pain.

I pushed the doorbell and the first bars of Dusty’s Christmas song trilled. The sound brought back enough outrage to keep me committed.

The old woman who opened the door had pasted her lipstick well outside the natural lines of her lips, and it was even redder than what I wore. Her eyebrows were long gone but they’d been painted in thick black lines about an inch above where nature intended. Her clothes shimmered and still had shoulder pads; back in the eighties she would have been right in style.

She gave me the once-over, considered me from my head to my toes and back again. Her sour look said she was not impressed.

I put on my biggest smile. “May I speak to Mr. Harrison, please?”

“What’s this about?” Her glare would have given a more sensitivetype the jitters. “My son doesn’t like girls like you.”

“I’m afraid I have some sad news for him about a mutual friend.”

“Tell me. I’m his mother.”

“I think it’s better if I tell Mr. Harrison.”

“Dustin doesn’t need to know. I don’t want him upset,” she said, and started to close the door.

A normal person might take a hint when a door is shut in her face. But I had Bernice to educate me and destroy any silly ideas of proper behavior. I slammed into the door with my shoulder, nearly knocking the old sweetheart on her ass. She recovered quickly, raising her hand and snarling, “Get out of my house.”

“Would you rather he talked to me or the police?” For a moment I thought she was going to rake her vivid red talons across my face. The nails stopped reaching for me and a calculating look narrowed her eyes.

“It’s his choice, but one way or another, my questions will get answered. However, the police might just want to take some actions beyond what I’m here for.”

She squinted down her nose at me, judging if I were tough enough to make good on my words. “Wait in there,” she said, pointing to a small den off to her left.

“Thank you.”

Her nostrils flared.

“It really would be better if he talked to me instead of the police.” She tottered away on her toes, her gold lamé outfit flickering inthe sunlight pouring through a glass dome over our heads.

The question was would she call my bluff? Who would come, Dusty or the cops?

I went to wait in the room she had pointed out. It was full of oversized furniture, looking rather like giant leather marshmallows.

The man who came was in his fifties with hair as black as his mother’s. The color might well have come out of the same bottle. But where her face was prune-like, his was a smooth peach without a wrinkle or an expression in sight.

I rose to my feet when he entered the room, keeping the pepper spray hidden in my hand.

He stopped just inside the door and looked me up and down. His nose twitched as though his cat had dragged in something ghastly and he wanted the help to come and take it away. “What do you want?”

“I’m here about Holly.”

“I don’t know to whom you are referring.”

“Then I’ll take my questions to the police.” His large sigh was dramatic. “What questions?”

“You kept Holly in an apartment. I know that because the police told us. Were you the father of her child?” I was trying to throw him off guard. It didn’t work.

He giggled . . . a horrible sound. “I didn’t even know she had a child. I’ve only known her for a few months.” He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, sure that he knew where this was going and that he was free of any nasty paternity suit. “Besides, not that it’s anyone’s business, but I made sure years ago that I would never spawn anything.”

“Thank god for that! And spawn was exactly the word I would have chosen. Was she leaving you?”

Dusty snickered. His amusement was really pissing me off.

“I told her to get out. She was really rather boring. She never stopped going on about when was I going to introduce her to some important people. Blathering on and on about her career. Besides, she wasn’t . . .” He paused and looked at me. “Well, shall I say, she wasn’t very enthusiastic in bed. She was starting to turn me off and I’d had enough of her. I told her she had two weeks to get out.” His lips squeezed shut in disgust. “Stupid little fool went and killed herself.”

“Did you give her drugs?”

“Never. I’ve never needed them.”

“Bully for you, but you were the one who beat her.” His body stiffened. He gave a sniff.

“So, is that how you get your jollies, beating helpless women?” He pointed at the door. “Get out.”

“Not yet. We’re not done. Did Cal Vachess hook you up with her?”

“Cal Vachess?” His confusion couldn’t show on his face but it was there in his voice.

“Angel Escort, that’s where you met her, right?”

“I don’t need to use escort services.” He was indignant at the suggestion.

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “It had to be Ryan. That’s how you met Holly.”

“So? It was between consenting adults and no one’s business.”

I moved a little closer to him, wanting to see the fear in his eyes when I gave him the news. “So, here’s a hot news flash . . . Holly was
HIV
-positive. With any luck you’ll have it too.”

Not all the Botox in the world could keep the fear off his face.

He pulled back his hand to slap me, but when a girl grows up in a trailer park she isn’t an easy target. I dodged his hand and did exactly what Tully had taught me to do when I was about five.

Dusty hit the floor, groaning and clutching his crotch as he rolled onto his side.

I leaned over him. “Now mind your manners or I’ll really hurt you. I’m betting you like to dish it out but you can’t take it, is that right, Dusty?”

He didn’t answer. I nudged his back with my toe. “Talk to me here, Dusty.”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Don’t hurt me.”

“You were the one who beat Holly, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Dusty’s face was a funny color.

I had my pepper spray ready. “Get to your knees very slowly.” He moaned but he got to all fours. I grabbed his hair to pull uphis head. The hair came off in my hand.

“Oh shit.” I dropped the thing on the floor. “Shit,” I said again and wiped my hand on my skirt. “That’s just gross.”

Behind me the door opened and Dusty’s mommy came in. “Dustin?” She tottered over and picked up the hair. Glaring atme, she said, “What have you done?”

Mrs. Harrison didn’t wait for my answer. She was trying to put the toupee back on Dusty’s head while he pushed her away. “Get out of here. Go away, Ma.”

She started to do what she was told, turned back to offer him his hair, but finally clasped it to her chest and said, “I don’t like that tone of voice, Dustin.”

“Get out of here and mind your own business,” Dusty screamed. As she left the room, Dusty pulled himself into a crouch andcrab-walked to a velvet wingback, collapsing into it. His face was wet with tears. I can’t say they made me feel bad.

“You beat Holly for fun.” He watched me, his eyes locked on me. “Tell me.”

When he answered, the tone of his voice had changed, gone from aggressive to whining. “She liked it rough.”

“Horseshit. You liked it rough.” He watched me warily, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Did Ryan share your pastimes?”

“We partied together, if that’s what you mean, but he lied to me, told me Holly was clean and safe.”

“Don’t you hate it when people lie to you?” What would Aunt Kay want from him? “Holly needs to be buried and there’s no money for a funeral. I want you to make out a check for ten thousand dollars.”

He started to argue.

“I don’t want Holly’s name dragged through the mud, so your dirty little secret won’t show up all over the Internet.” I lifted the can of pepper spray and pointed it at him. “Do this one decent thing; it’s best for everyone.”

He held his hands up in appeasement. “All right, all right.” Wincing and moaning, he got to his feet. Sweat glistened on hisface and his naked head. He walked slowly to the desk, leaning on it when he got there. Then he sat down gingerly and pulled himself forward. He hesitated. His hand slid towards the phone.

“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’d like you to have me charged. I’d be happy to tell the cops and the reporters all about it. Tell them how Old Dusty, South Florida’s pride and joy, likes beating up helpless women. You can sure as hell bet that I’ll never have to hear your stupid Christmas song playing in any mall again. That would be a bonus.”

He reached for a drawer instead of the phone and pulled out a long, red-leather checkbook.

“Make it out to Marnie Mitchell. And if you have second thoughts about this check after I’ve gone, think again.” I gave him a big smile. “I’ve been on my best behavior today, didn’t even bring any of my friends with me.”

Dusty wrote and then held out the check.

I read what he’d written before tucking it into my bag. Then I pulled out Chloe McCabe’s picture. “Do you know her?”

He squinted at the picture. He looked up at me, considering my face before he said, “I don’t want any problems with Ryan Vachess.”

“Don’t worry about Ryan. It’s me you’ve got a problem with.”

“She was Ryan’s and then she disappeared. I asked about her, thought I might like a turn, but he said she’d . . .” He stopped. His mouth twitched. “I don’t want any trouble with Ryan.”

“Better you worry about me.”

“He said she was working on the road and then he laughed.”

“What does that mean, working on the road?”

“Ryan has connections. Some guys have motor homes and their girls work out of them up and down the state, in truck stops and rest stops. They keep the girls high and keep them moving.”

“Do you know where Chloe is now?” He shook his head. “That’s all I know about her.”

I was barely out of the gate when I heard the sirens. Had to be his mother; for sure Dusty didn’t want to bring the police into it and risk me telling them Holly’s story.