Board Stiff: A Dead-End Job Mystery (10 page)

“‘D
awnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment,’”
Phil howled from his shower.

Helen smiled while her husband tortured “White Room,” an Eric Clapton favorite. Phil’s voice was flatter than a bath mat. My man is no rock star, she thought. Except between the sheets. Good in bed and he makes me coffee in the morning. She took the last, lukewarm swallow and slipped on her satin robe.

Phil stepped out of the bathroom in a steamy cloud, his shower-damp hair the color of dull silver. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. His collar was partly trapped inside the shirt neck.

Helen straightened his tangled collar, then wrapped her arms around him. “Are you sure you couldn’t stay a little longer?” she said, kissing him.

“Good heavens, you’re insatiable,” he said in mock horror. “Twice last night and twice this morning. What more do you want?”

“Three times?” she said.

“Tonight,” he said. “And that’s a promise. It’s almost nine o’clock. I have to check out dive shops and find out if anyone rented an underwater scooter the day Ceci died.”

“Or the day before,” Helen said. “I’m stalled until you make some progress. No point in me watching Sunny Jim’s place. The competition can’t do more damage to him.”

“He’s barely hanging in,” Phil said. “Business is way down since Ceci’s death. You might as well take the day off until you hear from me.”

“I’ll have coffee with Margery by the pool,” Helen said. “I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

She kissed Phil good-bye, slipped on shorts and a T-shirt, poured herself more coffee and stepped out into the sunny-bright morning. The humid air felt soft and inviting after the chill air-conditioning, and the grass was green with promise.

Margery was hosing off the pool deck. Their landlady wore her favorite purple from her sparkly lavender T-shirt to her flip-flops festooned with mauve flowers. Her burning cigarette sent up a lazy curl of smoke.

“Morning, bright eyes,” her landlady said. “How’s the Riggs Beach case?”

“Phil’s checking out dive shops this morning,” Helen said. “It’s on hold unless he finds something. We’re still looking for Ceci’s killer.” She told Margery what they’d found so far, including their midnight meeting with Max.

“Who do you think killed her?” Margery asked, turning off the hose.

“Daniel, the husband,” Helen said. “He’s mean enough and he criticized his wife’s weight gain.”

“Doesn’t make him a killer,” Margery said, rolling up the hose.

“Daniel is the only one who knew when his wife was going paddleboarding,” Helen said.

“Not true,” Margery said. “Anyone could find out. All he had to do was call Sunny Jim and try to make a morning appointment. How many paddleboards does Jim have?”

“Eight at the beach location,” Helen said.

“Then it’s easy. The person calls Jim and says he wants to book a group of eight from nine a.m. till noon. If Jim said he was booked at ten, the caller would know exactly when Ceci was going out.”

“Brilliant!” Helen said. “That puts Sunny Jim’s competitors back in the picture.”

“I have my uses,” Margery said. She stashed the hose in the corner. “Are you going to hire me for part-time work?”

“There’s not even work for me right now,” Helen said. “That’s why I’m home.”

“Glad you two are still honeymooning. Twice at night and twice in the morning. Impressive.”

Helen felt her face redden. “How did you know?” she said.

“Your jalousie windows leak more than your air-conditioning,” Margery said.

Helen was in full blush now. Margery laughed and said, “You’re young. Enjoy each other. It’s better than listening to fights, like I did with some tenants.

“Right now, I hear your cell phone ringing. Is it at your place or Phil’s?”

“Phil’s,” Helen said, sprinting for his door.

She dove through the door and grabbed her phone off the coffee table.

“Helen! It’s Kathy. He called.” Her sister’s voice skittered with panic, as if Kathy was sliding off the edge of the world.

Helen’s heart sideslipped in her chest. She sank down on Phil’s couch, like someone had chopped off her legs. She didn’t need to ask who’d called. She knew. The worst had happened. The blackmailer was back.

“This time he wants sixty thousand dollars,” Kathy said. “In cash.”

Helen tried to wrap her mind around that staggering number. She’d expected this demand. The blackmailer liked to double his demands. Last time, she’d given him thirty thousand.

“When?” Helen said. She fought to keep her voice steady. One word was all she could manage.

“He’s giving us two days,” Kathy said. “I’m supposed to put the money in a Schnucks supermarket bag and leave it on top of the same Dumpster on Manchester Road.”

The same Dumpster where Helen had already left thousands of dollars.

“Can we do that?” Kathy asked.

“I’ve got the money,” Helen said. Her half of the money from the sale of the St. Louis house she and Rob had owned sat untouched in the bank all the time she’d been on the run.

She could hear her sister’s audible sigh. “He’s giving us till tomorrow to get the money together,” she said. “Helen, you have to be here this time. Last time you were out of the country and left me alone.”

Helen was irritated by Kathy’s whine, but her sister was right to be upset.

“Kathy, I was on a job in the Bahamas,” she said. “I couldn’t get to St. Louis that fast. That’s why I put your name on the account, too, so you could get the money yourself.”

“I did, but I was scared.”

Her little sister was crying now, wrenching sobs laced with fear and regret. Kathy was two years younger than Helen, plump, pretty and placid. She loved her husband, Tom, and their two children, Allison and Tommy Junior. They lived in a house with a white picket fence. Then a blackmailer destroyed Kathy’s nearly perfect life.

“I’ll be there for you,” Helen said. “Phil and I will fly out tomorrow.”

“Phil! You can’t bring him,” Kathy sobbed. “You promised not to tell. You promised. For Tommy’s sake.”

“I also promised to love and honor my husband,” Helen said. “I’ve already broken that promise several times. If we’re going to save Tommy, we need two people to catch the blackmailer.”

“You’ve got me!” Kathy said.

“I need a professional investigator,” Helen said, “and Phil’s the best. Kathy, this is it. This time, we either catch him, or we’re all ruined. Tommy, too. Next time, the blackmailer will double his demands to a hundred twenty thousand dollars. I’m running out of money. It’s now or never.”

Her sister wailed like a war widow.

“Kathy!” Helen said sharply. “Get hold of yourself.”

Kathy sniffled, gulped once and said, “Okay, you’re right. I’m just so worried about my little boy.”

“Tommy didn’t do anything wrong,” Helen soothed. “He whacked Rob with a bat, but he didn’t mean to hurt him. It’s not his fault. Tommy will be fine.”

“How can you say that?” her sister lashed out. “How can you be so sure? He’s not your son. You have no children. You have nothing to lose. I—I can lose everything.”

Another burst of tears.

I was too forceful, Helen thought. She softened her voice and said, “Kathy, you’re right. I don’t have children. But I love Tommy and his sister. I’d never do anything to hurt them.”

“Tommy did it for you. He was trying to protect you.” Kathy was on the verge of tears.

“I know,” Helen said. “He acted like a little man.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Kathy said. “It was his awful uncle Rob who tracked you down to our backyard. My Tommy saw Rob grab you and threaten me. He thought you were being hurt.”

“I was,” Helen said.

“Tommy hit Rob as hard as he could with his aluminum bat and knocked him unconscious. He was quite the slugger.”

Even in this crisis she couldn’t resist a show of motherly pride, Helen thought. But my sister does blame me—and I deserve it.

“You were smart to send Tommy to his room after he hit Rob,” Helen said. “Rob revived and you begged him to go to the emergency room, but he refused.” They both knew this story, but reciting it again seemed to justify their terrible decision.

“We both begged him,” Kathy said. “Rob was always pigheaded. He couldn’t admit he’d been knocked out by a little boy. He started laughing at us, and then he passed out again. Except this time, he didn’t wake up.”

“We should have called the police,” Helen said.

“No! I made the right decision and I’ll stand by it,” Kathy said. “If we’d gone to the police, it would be in the media. My boy would be branded a killer. His life would be over before it started. No one would play with him. You don’t know how cruel kids can be. You have no idea.

“I’m glad we buried Rob in the church hall basement. He deserved it.” Kathy was regaining her spirit.

“We were lucky the basement hole was already dug,” Helen said, scrambling back to their familiar narrative. Kathy had to feel safe enough to follow Helen’s lead this time. “We rolled Rob up in Tom’s plastic drop cloths and carted him to the church in your minivan. All we had to do was cover him with crushed rock. The next morning, the basement concrete was poured.”

And Rob was gone but not forgotten, she thought. Nothing Kathy says can make what I did right. I never told Phil, not even when we married. I never told Margery. Rob’s secret burial has weighed on me, heavier than the concrete that covered his body.

“I’ve kept my bargain long enough,” Helen said. “Someone knows our secret. They’ve blackmailed me until I’m bled dry. Now we have to end it and save Tommy.”

“How?” Kathy asked, her voice small.

“Did you tape the blackmail call like I asked you?”

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it all,” Kathy said. “I practiced with the equipment you sent me until I could do it without thinking. It’s a good thing, because my mind went blank when he called.”

“Good girl,” Helen said. “Did he use a voice changer again?”

“Yes,” Kathy said. “This time he sounded like a movie tough guy. That wasn’t as creepy as the time he sounded like a little girl.

“Helen, it’s Rob. I know it is. I’ve been reading about head injuries on the Internet. They’re tricky. He might have looked dead, but he could have had a small stroke and recovered enough after we buried him to drag himself out of that hole. We only buried him under a few inches of rock, and the plastic drop cloths were held with bungee cords. Rob could have escaped. You know how crooked and lazy Rob is. He’d rather torment you than turn you in to the police.”

“Possible,” Helen said. More than possible, she thought.

“He talked like Rob, too. He called you Sunshine. That was his nickname for you.”

“That’s a common name,” Helen said. “It doesn’t prove anything. Kathy, that blackmailer could be a neighbor, or the church guy who was cheating on his wife—what was his name?”

“Horndog Hal,” Kathy said.

“Right,” Helen said. “He was making out with a woman in the backseat of his car when we parked in the church lot. Didn’t you say he had a bunch of kids? He’d need money.”

“We all need money in this neighborhood,” Kathy said. “We’ve got kids in school. But Hal’s not a suspect. He moved to Georgia. He’s gone.”

“Good. One less,” Helen said. “I’ll book two tickets for the early-morning flight to St. Louis tomorrow. We’ll rent a car. I want you to e-mail me the names and addresses of all your neighbors today. They could have seen something when we were hauling Rob’s body out of there.”

“We don’t have to worry about old Mrs. Kiley next door,” Kathy said. “She’s ninety-one, and she goes to bed early.”

“And never gets any visitors?” Helen asked.

“She’s got a grandson who sees her sometimes.”

“Get his name,” Helen said. “Who else could have seen what happened?”

“The Kerchers were on vacation and no one was at home,” Kathy said.

“Didn’t they have a house sitter?”

“No, somebody walked their dog.”

“Get that name, too. Who else?”

“There’s the Cooks on the west side, but their view is blocked by our house and a big tree.”

“You hope,” Helen said. “Get their information, too. Call me back as soon as you have it.”

“I still think it’s Rob,” Kathy said.

“I hope you’re right,” Helen said. “If it is Rob, he can’t report us to the police. He’s been blackmailing us and you’ve got him threatening you on tape.”

“I do!” Kathy sounded hopeful. “Then Tommy will be free. We’ll all be saved.”

Except me, Helen thought. I could lose everything I care about: my home, my business and the love of my life.

She remembered Phil singing that Clapton song.
“Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment.”
Her contentment left this morning.

H
elen curled up on Phil’s couch, her arms wrapped around her cat like he was a teddy bear. Thumbs purred and kept his big six-toed paw possessively on her arm.

“You still love me,” Helen said, hugging the cat closer. “I may lose everyone—Phil, Margery, even our PI agency, but I’ll still have you.”

Helen’s cell phone rang and Thumbs sprang up.

“Hey, babe,” Phil said. “I’ve got good news. I’ve found our friend.”

She heard the sound of success in his voice.

“Who is he?” Helen said.

“I’m on my way home to tell you,” he said. “You know I don’t like talking on cell phones. Is something wrong?”

“I got bad news from Kathy,” she said.

Triumph turned to concern. “Is she hurt?” Phil asked. “What about Tom and the kids?”

“No, they’re all safe,” Helen said. “But we need to fly to St. Louis tomorrow. I’ll tell you why when I see you.”

“Okay,” Phil said. “We can investigate Ceci’s husband while we’re there. I’ll get Sunny Jim to pay for the trip. You sure you don’t want to tell me now?”

“Not on a cell phone,” she said. Not ever, she thought. But I have to. I have no choice.

“Love you,” he said, and clicked off.

Those two words slashed Helen’s heart. Would Phil still love her after she’d told him what she’d done? What would happen to their baby, Coronado Investigations? And Margery, the closest person Helen had to a mother?

Fresh tears flooded her eyes. I won’t sit here and mope, she thought, wiping them away. I can’t brood on this anymore.

Helen made Phil’s bed and wondered if they’d ever make love on those black silk sheets again. She rinsed her coffee cup and put it in the dishwasher. Would he bring her coffee in the morning anymore? Or make popcorn and wine snacks?

She wiped away more tears, then went online and made reservations for their flight, a rental car and a hotel near her sister’s home.

Her cell phone rang and she checked the display. Kathy.

“I’ve e-mailed you the information about the neighbors,” Kathy said. “Do you need me to pick you up at the airport?”

“No, thanks. Just booked a rental car and a hotel,” Helen said.

“What will I tell Tom?” Kathy asked.

“The truth,” Helen said.

“I can’t,” Kathy said. “He’ll hate me when he finds out I’ve lied to him.”

“I meant the truth about Phil and me,” Helen said. “We’re coming to St. Louis to investigate a murder. Do you know a Daniel and Ceci Odell? They live at . . . let me look it up”—she checked her case notes—“225 Clafin Drive in Kirkwood. Ceci was the tourist killed while paddleboarding in Riggs Beach.”

“I saw that on TV,” Kathy said. “I don’t know the Odells, but I have friends who live on Clafin. I’ll ask Maureen Carsten if she’ll talk to you.”

“Thanks,” Helen said. “We’ll be working most of the time we’re in town. You’ll have to find some excuse to get away for the money drop tomorrow night.”

“Already have it,” Kathy said. “I’m on the church’s Summer Fest committee. Those meetings last late. I’ve told Tom there’s one tomorrow night.

“We can at least have a barbecue when Tom comes home from work, right?”

“As long as we’re free by eight,” Helen said. “I’ll read your e-mail now.”

Kathy’s e-mail was a glimpse into that perfect picket-fence life. Kathy said old Mrs. Kiley’s grandson was seventeen-year-old Matt Madley. He went to Parkway West High School and stopped by his grandma’s house two or three times a week to do little chores. “He even mows the lawn,” Kathy wrote. “Find another kid who does that for his grandma. She pays him in chocolate chip cookies.”

The Kerchers, who lived behind Kathy, always hired Nan Siemer to walk their dog, Benji. Nan was fifteen, on the honor roll, and lived two doors up from the Kerchers. The dog was a cute white twelve-year-old bichon.

Not sure why we need the dog’s info, Helen thought, but I asked for information and she delivered.

The Cook family on the other side of Kathy included the father, Lee Boyd Cook; his wife, Sharon Osborne Cook; and their two daughters, Chloe Madison Cook and Cassidy Mason Cook. Cassidy was a sophomore and Chloe a senior at Webster High. “I gave you their middle names because there are so many Cooks,” Kathy added.

“Thank you,” Helen said to the computer screen.

She checked the time, then brushed her hair and put on fresh lipstick. Might as well look my best when I ruin my marriage, she thought. I wish I could fix this gut-wrenching fear, but there’s only one cure for that.

She heard Phil’s key in the lock and pasted on a smile. He burst through the door, picked her up and waltzed her around the room. Thumbs took refuge from their flying feet under the coffee table.

“I found him!” he said. “I found the diver!”

“Who is he? Where is he?”

“Randy,” Phil said, kissing her soundly. “Randall.”
Smack.
“Travis.”
Smack.
“Henshall.”
Smack.

These may be the last carefree kisses I’ll ever get, Helen thought. She pulled herself together and asked, “The same Randy lured away from Sunny Jim’s by more money at Bill’s Boards?”

“And the same one who probably trashed Jim’s paddles and helped steal his boards,” Phil said. “The manatee molester who hates women tourists.”

“Way to go,” Helen said and tried a lopsided smile. “Where did you find him?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly find Randy himself,” Phil said. “I showed his photo around the dive shops.”

“What photo?” Helen asked.

“I made one from that video you took of him lurking around Sunny Jim’s. The dude at Riggs Beach Dive Shop identified Randy as the diver who rented an underwater scooter about eight o’clock the morning Ceci was murdered. He returned it at three.”

“The time fits,” Helen said.

“Randy signed the rental agreement ‘John Smith,’” Phil said.

“Original,” Helen said.

“And paid cash,” Phil said. “I asked why Mr. Smith didn’t use a credit card. The dude said Mr. Smith was paying down his debts and had cut up his credit cards. He left a five-hundred-dollar cash deposit instead.”

“Isn’t that a little irregular?” Helen said.

“Irregularities at that shop can be cured with a cold cash compress,” Phil said. “This information cost me fifty bucks. I stopped by Bill’s Boards looking for Randy, but the employee said Randy up and quit.”

“Let me guess,” Helen said. “The day after Ceci was murdered.”

“Wrong. The day before,” Phil said.

“Think Randy called in rich?” Helen asked.

“That’s my guess,” Phil said. “He hasn’t been seen in any of his usual haunts. Randy’s been heading downhill since he wrangled that sea cow. He lives in a dump off Riggs Beach Road and drives a junker. His landlady says he left for a vacation the day after Ceci died. He didn’t say when he was coming back, but he paid a month’s rent in advance.”

“Sounds like he’s playing it smart,” Helen said. “He’s gone off somewhere else to celebrate.”

“He’ll turn up soon,” Phil said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have paid more rent on his apartment. Meanwhile, I’ve convinced Sunny Jim we should fly to St. Louis to check out Daniel Odell.”

“Good,” Helen said.

“Hey, can you show a little more enthusiasm? We’re getting a free trip to see your sister. Why do you want to go to St. Louis, anyway?”

“Uh,” Helen said. She was standing on a crumbling ledge, staring into a bottomless lake. She had to take the plunge, and it might be fatal.

“Sit down,” she said.

Phil plopped on the couch. Helen studied the face she loved: his long, slightly crooked nose, those blue eyes, that silver hair haloing his young face. She sat next to him, took his hand and gently touched his wedding ring. Would he pull it off when she finished?

“You look pale,” Phil said.

Here goes, she thought, and stepped off the ledge.

“Remember when Mom died and we went to St. Louis for her funeral?” she said, still holding his hand.

“Of course,” Phil said. “That was a hard trip home for you, but I got to spend some time with my in-laws. I love your family. I have a cool brother-in-law. Tom and I ran out of beer and you and Kathy sent us off for guy time at Carney’s Bar.”

“While you and Tom were at the bar, Rob turned up in Kathy’s backyard,” Helen said.

“You never told me that,” Phil said.

“It gets worse,” she said. A whole lot worse, she thought.

“Rob was drunk. He demanded fifteen thousand dollars. Then he said you got his secondhand goods.”

“Why, that no-good SOB,” Phil said. “I’ll punch his face in.”

“I tried to,” Helen said. “That’s when the trouble started. Rob grabbed my arm and bent it back. He hurt me so bad, he forced me to my knees.”

Phil tensed and gave a slight growl.

“Then he sat next to me on a lawn chair, all the while twisting my arm. My nephew, Tommy, saw that lowlife threatening me and hit Rob with his bat as hard as he could.”

“Good,” Phil said.

“Not good,” Helen said. “He knocked out Rob. Kathy sent her son to his room; then we threw water on Rob and revived him. He refused to go to the emergency room. He laughed and demanded to talk to me alone.

“This time, I sat down in a lawn chair with the bat. Kathy gave me her cell phone and went upstairs to see Tommy. I told Rob I wasn’t going to pay him. He didn’t answer me. I thought he’d fallen asleep. I shook him but—”

“He was dead,” Phil said. He spoke slowly, as if trying to absorb the words, then said, “Little Tommy killed Rob.” There was wonder in his voice. Wonder and something else Helen couldn’t identify.

“Yes,” she said. Now she rushed to finish her story, to get this horror over with. “So Kathy and I wrapped Rob’s body in plastic and hauled it to Mom’s church. They were building a new hall and the concrete floor was going to be poured the next morning. We buried Rob under the crushed rock.”

“And you never called 911?” Phil asked.

“Kathy begged me not to,” she said. “I said Tommy was defending me. I said I’d take the blame. She refused. She said Tommy would be ruined, like KK.”

“Who’s he?” Phil voice was ominous. He pulled his hand away from Helen’s grasp.

“A boy we went to school with who accidentally killed his baby brother. It wasn’t his fault, but everyone called him a killer. KK’s in jail now. His life was never the same. Kathy was afraid that would happen to Tommy. I offered to take the blame myself and say I hit Rob with the bat, but she said Tommy would step up and confess the truth to save his aunt Helen.”

“And you didn’t bother calling Tom and me, even though we were a block away?” Phil’s eyes crackled with electric blue fire.

“I couldn’t,” Helen said. “She wouldn’t let me.”

“Your little sister, a marshmallow suburban mom who sits on church committees, wouldn’t
let
you?” His lips twisted into an ugly smile. Phil stood up and paced his living room. “Yeah, I can see why you couldn’t. Kathy’s one tough customer.”

Helen winced as if he’d hit her.

“Not calling the police, I might understand. Might. It’s a stupid move, but I could at least follow your reasoning. But not telling me, your own husband? What’s your excuse, Helen?”

Phil shouted at her for the first time ever. Thumbs came out from under the coffee table and stared.

“I don’t have an excuse, Phil. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were!”

He took a deep breath, then said slowly, “So now, after all these months, you suddenly trust me. Why the big change?”

“Because Kathy and I are being blackmailed,” Helen said. “He says he’ll make sure Tommy is known as the Killer Bat Boy. He doubles his demands each time. Last time, he wanted thirty thousand. Now he wants sixty thousand tomorrow night at nine. I don’t have much more money.”

“And where the hell are you getting this money?” Phil slapped his forehead dramatically. “Oh, wait, I know. You’re giving him your share of your house sale, aren’t you?”

Helen nodded, not daring to speak.

“Kathy still didn’t want me to tell you, but I said I had to,” Helen said. “I need you, Phil.” Her voice quavered.

“Now you need me,” he said. “I’m so honored. Do you even know who’s blackmailing you?”

“He uses a voice changer. I think it’s one of Kathy’s neighbors,” Helen said. “Kathy thinks Rob is blackmailing us.”

“I thought you said Rob was dead.”

“He was. He is. But head injuries are tricky.”

“Not as tricky as you, sweetheart,” Phil said, his eyes angry. There was no love in that last word.

“There is one bit of good news,” Helen said. “Kathy taped the last blackmailing demand. In Missouri, only one party has to consent to a taped call.”

“Perfect,” Phil said. “You’ve got a tape of someone with a voice changer.”

They sat in shattering silence for a long moment.

When Phil spoke, his voice was hard and low. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Helen. We’re going to St. Louis tomorrow. I assume you’ve already booked the trip.”

She nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Do you have the information about the other blackmailer suspects?”

“Yes, Kathy e-mailed it to me.”

“Then send it to me, along with the reservations. I will help you and Kathy catch the blackmailer. You will help me investigate Daniel Odell.”

“Kathy knows a woman who lives on their street,” Helen said.

“Good. These are Coronado Investigations’ last two cases. Now, get out.”

“Out?” Helen said.

“Go to your own apartment. Give me your key to this one. We’re through, Helen. It’s over.”

“That’s not fair,” Helen said. “You would have done the same thing.”

“I don’t think so,” Phil said. “I’d like you to leave.”

In a daze, Helen found her cell phone and purse, then picked up her cat.

Thumbs struggled to get away, raking her arm with his razor claws. He jumped to the floor and slid under the couch, leaving Helen bleeding and alone.