BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (6 page)

I stepped in and slid the door closed behind me. It was quiet and familiar. It had been almost a year since I’d sat at the counter while Jim broke my heart, but the memory was clear and nothing about the place had really changed. There were no fresher memories to dull the emotion.

What the hell was I doing here? I focused on the task at hand and walked through the house room by room looking for… well, looking for
anything
. Some evidence that Jim was involved in the murder. Duckie diapers in a single man’s home would have been an excellent clue. But there wasn’t anything.

I stepped into his bedroom. There were memories here, too, and not much else. I even riffled through his closet. On the way back down the hall I pulled open the coat closet to take a quick look, mostly out of indecent curiosity. The fact that I’d taken a stupid risk for nothing was just sinking in, when there in the middle of his London Fog raincoat and Burberry overcoat was pair of rumbled and dirty suit pants on a hanger. My heart kicked up and my palms started to sweat. I struggled to remember the suit coat the dead man had been wearing. His pants had been a pin stripe, and I remembered the jacket had been ill-fitting. A grey plaid?

I was pretty sure these ugly pants matched the dead guy’s jacket. I checked the size in the waistband. Thirty-six by thirty. Definitely not Jim’s, which didn’t surprise me; Jim didn’t wear ugly clothes. But still, what the hell were they doing in Jim’s closet if they weren’t Jim’s?

I used my phone to take a picture and then high-tailed it out the kitchen door, making sure it was all the way closed and that I hadn’t left any sign of myself in the house. I jumped in the truck and got high and away from the area before I allowed myself to think. When I did start to think my mind wouldn’t shut up. It raced from one thing to another. Should I call the cops? What about the date on Sunday? Would it be suspicious if I cancelled that? Or maybe I should go on the date so the cops could search his house. I’d be safe at Loudon; I just wouldn’t invite him in to my place for drinks afterward.

Shit. What about Hambecker? He was going to be raging mad if he found out I’d searched Jim’s house. Well too bad. He wasn’t going to find out anyway. If I told anyone it would be Tom Maverick.

My brain was racing and instead of going straight back to the office I took a detour over to the Bethel Barracks. The desk clerk buzzed me through the inner door and I tried to track down Tom in his office, but he couldn’t be found. I noticed Steve Leftsky was in the bull pen eating a sandwich while tapping on his computer with one hand. I snagged a rolling chair from a table on the other side of the room and rolled myself over to his desk, grabbing a couple of chips off his napkin. He was looking at me, mouth full, eyebrows up.

“Multitasking?” I asked.

He chewed and swallowed and took a drink of the soda on his desk before he tried to speak. I appreciated him not spewing his sandwich all over me.

“What’s up?”

“Ever consider taking smaller bites?” I asked.

“I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten all day. Why don’t you talk and I’ll eat?” He took another bite that looked as though it might choke a horse.

“Does Shirl know you eat like that? It’s disgusting.”

“Give me a break, I’m hungry. Either talk or get out, I’ve got work to do.”

“Hypothetically, if I happened to see something I thought might be evidence in a crime while I was at someone’s house, would that be admissible evidence?”

He frowned and swallowed his bite.

“I thought you were doing the talking, and I was doing the eating,” Steve said. He wiped his mouth. “Depends. Were you invited in? Wait!” He held up his hand. “This
is
hypothetical, right? We aren’t talking about actual evidence in an actual house are we?”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Hell, Bree. You’re going to get us both into trouble, aren’t you? Jeez, I should have run when I heard you were in the building.”

“But what if I was invited in? Then it would be good. Right? Then I could tell you about it?”

“I do not want you getting yourself invited into a potential murderer’s house. I also do not approve of unauthorized entry into anyone’s home. You start breaking the law, Bree, Tom will not be able to protect you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I understand.” I also knew he’d get himself fired before he’d see me in jail. I couldn’t do that to him or Meg. I’d have to be sneakier.

“Whose home are you hypothetically planning on entering illegally? Off the record.”

“James Fisk.” I held my breath.

“You’re kidding me? You’re accusing
Fisk
of murder? Effing
dot-the-I-and-cross-the-T
Fisk? He’s never even had a speeding ticket. No way. No effing way. Out!”

He pointed at the door and I didn’t exactly run out the door, but I didn’t saunter either. I waved at the desk sergeant on the way past, very carefully backed my truck and slowly pulled onto Route 107. Because it wouldn’t be wise to give anyone a reason to arrest me.

Then it hit me that I might have been dating a murderer. I started to laugh and clamped my hand over my mouth. This was no time to get hysterical. I had a story to get. I needed to keep my eye on the prize.

I pulled into the Shell station for an ice cream sandwich and bottle of chocolate milk to calm my nerves.

***

Lori’s kids wore diapers and she had a key to the shop, so I pretty much had to make the trip over the hill to see her. I drove through Sharon with a package of M&Ms in my lap, and orange soda in my cup holder. I took Route 132 over into Strafford, then turned left up over the hill into Thetford. I could have taken the freeway, but that’s the long way around. And probably not any faster, even though it is freeway. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees over-arching the roads, and the air blowing in through my open windows was cool and silky on my skin. Tomorrow it might be hot and sticky, but for now it was perfect. I relaxed and took it slow, enjoying the overgrown beauty that stole over Vermont in the summer. Where warm places like California are dry and brown in the summer, Vermont is lush and green. Of course, that’s because it rains all the time, but you can’t have everything.

Lori’s home was a white clapboard cape on the outskirts of town. It sat back from the main road and I turned onto a dirt drive that wound between stone walls and birch trees for maybe an eighth of a mile before I reached the house. Lori was out front, sitting beside a baby on a blanket while a tiny blond girl tried to ride a large black dog. The dog ignored the toddler’s attempt to get on his back until she grabbed his tail at which point he collapsed on the ground with the tiny blond on top of him.

I parked the truck near the house and walked over to the foursome. The dog raised his head, barked once, loudly enough to make me jump and then set his head back down on the ground and let the toddler pull his ears.

“Good dog,” I said. “Did you train him to lie down when his tail gets yanked on?” I held out my hand. “I’m Bree MacGowan; I’m a friend of Claire P—”

“I know you. Claire talks about the crazy stuff you get up to. She said you might be over to see me.” She reached up and shook my hand.

“Do you mind if we talk a bit?” I felt a little guilty about wanting to talk murder in front of children, but I doubted Lori got much time alone.

“Sit down.” She patted the blanket. “I could use some adult company for a change. It’s nothing but babies twenty-four seven until my husband gets back from Afghanistan.” She looked over at me. “Murder in Planet Hair, huh? How weird is that?”

“Well not
in
the salon exactly. The police say the body was dumped after the fact.” Lying was getting too easy, but I didn’t want to have to explain my assumptions due of lack of facts.

“Strange place to leave a body. Oh jeez, the baby stinks!” She grabbed her baby by the leg and pulled her gently over. She stuck her hand in a big pink plastic tote and pulled out a cloth diaper and cover, and my suspicions of her innocence were fortified. Lori didn’t use disposable diapers. “Ew. I don’t care if she is mine; she stinks worse than any baby I’ve ever seen. Must take after her dad.” She grinned at me.

“You use cloth diapers? Aren’t they a pain?” I asked.

“I won’t use disposable diapers. I just don’t feel right about putting those chemicals on my baby’s skin. My mom is paying for the diaper service.” She fastened on a diaper cover and pulled a pair of tiny blue jeans up over the diaper. The soiled diaper went into in plastic bag. “It works out fine.”

“What did you think when you heard there was a dead body in the salon?” I asked her. “Were you surprised?” I waited while she disengaged the toddler’s fist from the dog’s tail. The dog licked her face and then the baby’s. The baby squealed happily and grabbed the dog’s ears. The dog lowered his head patiently while Lori removed the tiny fingers from his ear.

“Truthfully, I’m not that shocked.” Lori said. “I’ve heard that Ronnie Hart’s brother is mixed up with some pretty rough people.”

“Do you know who?” I hadn’t even known Ronnie had a brother.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but my brother told my husband that he has a connection to the mob. People like that, who knows why they do what they do.” She captured the baby’s hands before he could latch onto the dog again.

“The mob?” My heart pumped harder. “New York?”

“New York. Come here, pumpkin.” She picked the baby up and let him balance his weight on his feet for a moment.

“But why dump a body in Planet Hair?” I asked.

Lori shrugged. “Because his sister has a key? Why does anyone do anything? I mean really, if you’re going to kill someone, then anything you do after that has got to be the result of an addled brain, don’t you think? How could you kill someone and not be addled?”

She blew kisses onto his little neck and rolled back, lifting him into the air, making airplane noises. Her little girl wasted no time straddling her stomach and when Lori rolled back up she had both of them on her lap.

“I never thought of it that way,” I said. “I always assume people have good reasons for doing what they do. It may not seem reasonable to me, but to them it’s the only thing to be done. How does your brother know Ronnie’s brother?”

“My brother was in prison for a while. I guess you hear all sorts of things in there.”

It seemed rude to ask what he was in jail for, although I was dying to know. We talked a while longer about things unrelated to the murder before I drove back across the hill, my mind in overdrive.

Chapter Five

On the way home I considered my list of suspects. Jim, Ronnie and Lori. Not a huge list, and none of them seemed a likely murderer. I didn’t think either Ronnie or Lori was strong enough to drag a body up the stairs into the salon. Jim probably had plenty of easier options for disposing of a dead body. Dumping the body at Planet Hair stank of desperation and hurry. But even then. Why not the river?

It was hard for me to keep my feelings from clouding the facts. I’d never written an article when it was more important to keep emotion out of it. I didn’t want to think that Claire would hire a murderer to clean her shop. I trusted her instincts, but the facts might not justify my trust. Or maybe it wasn’t Ronnie, maybe it was someone who knew where she kept the key. Ronnie might not even know if someone had taken the key. I didn’t know. I had to stick to the facts, damn it anyway.

Lori? I wanted to say no. I just couldn’t see it. She’d never put those babies at risk. They could be mother
and
fatherless if daddy was in Afghanistan and Mommy was in the clink. But still, not fact. I hadn’t really been able to rule anyone out, only that if guilt and innocence rested on easy access to disposable ducky diapers, then Lori was out of the picture.

Then it occurred to me, Claire was a suspect too, which gave me a stomach ache. An unlikely suspect, but she had access to the shop if not a handy supply of diapers. What would it take for Claire to kill someone? I didn’t know. She’d be demented to dump a dead body in her own shop, though.

Instead of turning right on Route 14 I drove over the bridge into South Royalton and on to Meg’s house. I found Claire still in the kitchen snipping away at a tiny blond girl. The girl’s mother was hovering, getting in Claire’s way and pointing out all the stray hairs that Claire hadn’t gotten to yet but the mother felt she’d missed. Claire kept a tight smile on her face and her voice was pleasant, but I thought that deep inside she probably wanted to pop the mother one.

I know I did.

“I have got to get out of here,” Claire said after the woman closed the door behind them. “I love that Meg is lending me her kitchen, but I need my stuff. And it doesn’t hurt that there are two bars within walking distance of my shop. I need a beer.”

“Did she at least leave you a big tip?”

Claire snorted.

“One dollar over the cost of the cut. And I think she would have asked for the change back if she’d dared. I’ve got to call Tom and see if I can get my space back.” She zipped around gathering up the tools of her trade. “Then I have to see if Ronnie will clean it, or if I have to get some kind of crime scene professionals. Thank God there’s no blood.” She hiked her bag onto her shoulder. “Are you waiting for Meg? Or did you need me for something? Your cut looks good.”

“Yeah, great job. I was wondering how you felt about Ronnie as a suspect? Could she commit murder?”

“I think anyone can kill in the right circumstances, but Ronnie? I don’t think so. She’s really just a child, emotionally and mentally. But other than her? If someone was going to kill Meg and you had the chance to stop that from happening, what would you do?”

“Good point. I just can’t get my head around someone bringing a dead person to Planet Hair. Why would anyone do that? If I had a dead body I’d dump it in the woods or the river, I wouldn’t drag it into Planet Hair.”

“Didn’t Tom tell you? They dug a bullet out of the wall. He
was
killed at the salon.” Claire was packing up her tools as we talked.