Bowled Over (9 page)

The discussion looked civil, and Jaymie was relieved. There was something about the day’s events that left her feeling more hopeful about being able to broach the distance between herself and her old friend. Was that crazy? She watched the three adults and tried to figure it out. Kathy was emotional, it was true, but right now, as she talked to Andy and Kylie, she had Connor on her lap, hugging him to her and resting her cheek on his towhead. Kylie was smiling; she reached out to touch her son but left him where he was, snuggled on his aunt’s lap.

No one who loved a child that much could be impossible to reach.

Darkness fell, and the card games finished. The town considerately doused the lights over the walkway for the duration of the pyrotechnics every year, so when the lights went down, everyone settled in their spots to watch the show. Daniel reached out to her and took her hand in his as they lay back and watched the shower of brilliant fireworks over the river. She moved closer, into the crook of his arm, and rested her head on his shoulder.

A contentment stole into Jaymie’s heart as she watched, and she knew that if she could just get past Joel’s defection enough to be open to love, Daniel Collins would make a wonderful husband.
If
that’s what she wanted. They’d only been going out for a month or so, and she had time before they took their relationship to any further depth. It was all speculative anyway.

People kept implying that Daniel was so interested in her and that she ought to jump at him. She didn’t see it that way.
Marriage was not an experiment, and she didn’t intend to do it twice. It wasn’t Daniel who was pushing anyway; he had been nothing but patient and kind, not pressing her on the physical side of their relationship beyond a good-night kiss, which so far had been pleasant but not earth-shattering.

She had time.

A grand finale of pops and booms and crackles echoed off the riverbanks. They all stood, lit sparklers and sang “The Star Spangled Banner” as one last firework burst over the St. Clair, the red, white and blue shower reflected in the glassy surface below. Someone screamed, and someone else laughed and a dog began to howl.
Poor puppy
, Jaymie thought. Some dog owners had no sense. Dogs hated fireworks. But finally the last sparks floated to the water, and the crowd applauded. It was time to pack up and go.

Brock meticulously folded up his card table, as Violet, who would stay the night with Valetta, herded his weary, hopped-up, whiny kids down to where their car was parked. He and his children lived on a hobby farm outside of town, and thus the car was a necessity. Becca and Kevin laughed together as they folded their lawn chairs. Kevin had about half an hour before he had to be down to the dock for the last ferry back to Johnsonville.

“I have to go to the washroom,” Jaymie said, folding her blanket and adding it to the pile in their little red wagon.

“The washroom? You’re not going
here
, are you, in the park?” Becca said, wrinkling her brow, her pale face yellowish in the old-fashioned lights over the walkway.

“I sure am.”

“It’s a public washroom, Jaymie, and it’s been busy all day here. It’ll be disgusting!”

“Becca, I’ve had four cups of tea. I
need
to go! I should have gone at home when I took Hoppy back, but I didn’t
think about it. Besides, I don’t have your delicate sensibilities about washroom cleanliness.”

She strode off, but as she approached the cinder-block building, a square structure with both women’s and men’s washrooms as well as a public drinking fountain on each end, she heard a noise, and forlorn sobbing. Standing in the mud by the water fountain was Connor, Kathy Cooper’s nephew. Jaymie approached, and bent over him. “Connor, are you okay? Where’s your mommy?”

He stuck his hand in his mouth and shook his head, still making a moaning noise in the back of his throat. She couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Can I take you back to your Mommy? She must be here somewhere.” She straightened and looked down to the grassy area where she had last seen Kylie Hofstadter and Andy Walker. There was just enough light from the public washroom lighting to allow her to see. She took Connor’s hand to lead him away, toward the few people who were still folding chairs and blankets as they prepared to leave the park; maybe someone would know where Kylie was. But Connor tugged her back toward the washroom. “Is Mommy inside?” The boy shook his head. Jaymie stuck her head in the ladies’ washroom anyway and hallooed, but there was not a soul inside. The crowd outside was thinning as well.

“Come on, Connor, your mom and grandpa must be looking for you. Let’s go find them.” She took his hand, but he again tugged her back to the washroom. “Are you trying to tell me she’s here somewhere?”

He nodded. Darn preverbal boy; Tabitha, about the same age, would have been able to tell her. “Well, where is she?”

Connor
seemed
to understand, and he pointed to the washroom, or maybe
past
the washroom. Jaymie frowned. Was Kylie sick, vomiting behind the building, maybe? It
wouldn’t be the first time someone overindulged at a picnic or consumed a bad batch of mayonnaise-laden potato salad or had a touch of sunstroke.

“You stay right here, you understand?” Jaymie said. Connor nodded and sucked on his fist some more.

Jaymie, wishing she had brought a flashlight, poked her head around the back of the washroom, where it faced the river. There was a dark hump on the ground. “Kylie, are you okay?” She went over and tried to figure out what was where. “Kylie?” she said, putting her hand on the woman’s shoulder. She wasn’t breathing. “Damn, damn,
damn
!” Jaymie shrieked. She darted back around the washrooms, where Connor still stood.

A woman was approaching, heading to the washroom as well, and Jaymie called out to her, “Help me, please!”

“What’s wrong?” the other woman said. “Are you okay?” She shone a light in Jaymie’s eyes, blinding her momentarily. “What’s up?” She shone the light down to the ground.

Jaymie recognized her; she was the African-American policewoman who had patrolled the Leighton’s back alley during the trouble in May. “Officer Jenkins! I know you…remember me?”

The officer was blessedly calm and quick to respond. “I do,” the young woman said, regarding her solemnly, her glance darting over to Connor. “You look awful, like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

“This fellow’s mom is…is sick…or something worse…behind the washroom. I don’t know what to do!”

Becca approached. Jaymie pushed the boy toward her older sister and said, “Can you look after Connor? Kylie is sick. Or…something.” She gave her sister a meaningful look, and then led the policewoman behind the washroom. Officer Jenkins already had her cell phone out, and as she
shone her flashlight over the form, she was dialing a number quickly.

The light played over the woman on the ground as the officer rapidly spoke to someone on the other end of her call. One look was all it took, and Jaymie knew; this was not Kylie, and she was not merely ill. Kneeling in the soft, moist dirt, Jaymie gasped, “Kathy! It’s Kathy Cooper!” She sobbed, covering her mouth with one shaking hand.

Kathy’s eyes were open and staring, but blood coated her face and soaked the pale T-shirt she had on. Her arms were flung out, one fist tightly closed on some grayish hair or wool, or something like that. As the flashlight flickered, it sparkled off something shiny next to Kathy’s bloody head; a broken glass bowl, one that Jaymie recognized, lay in the damp grass. It was Jaymie’s square-based Depression glass bowl, broken into two glittering chunks.

Five

“K
ATHY
,
K
ATHY
!”
S
HE
couldn’t believe it,
wouldn’t
believe it. Kathy had to be just dazed. Jaymie grabbed her shoulders and tried to lift her up. The metallic odor of blood mingled with the sour smell of old mayonnaise from the glass bowl, and she felt lightheaded. “Kathy, say something,” she sobbed.

“Stop it!” the off-duty policewoman said. “Step away from her,
now
!” She spoke rapidly into the cell phone again, while she shoved her flashlight into her shorts pocket, then grabbed Jaymie’s T-shirt sleeve.

Jaymie staggered to her feet, shivering uncontrollably, as the policewoman pulled her away from the scene.

Officer Jenkins snapped her cell phone shut and took Jaymie by the shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do for her now,” she said, shaking Jaymie slightly. “She’s gone. You need to wait right here until the team arrives.”

A sob caught in Jaymie’s throat. It couldn’t be what it looked like, it just couldn’t! She stumbled over to Becca, who stood several feet away.

“What the heck is going on?” Becca muttered, holding Connor to her leg with one hand. “Where’s Kylie? And Kathy?”

Kevin and Daniel walked toward them, a look of deep concern on Daniel’s face.

When Jaymie didn’t answer, Becca peered at her in the shadowy gloom and asked, “Are you okay, sis?”

“I…I don’t know.” From a distance Jaymie heard a woman’s frantic voice calling for Connor. She looked around, searching the grassy slope, where a few groups of people still lingered.

“Connor! There he is; my baby!” Kylie Hofstadter surged up the rise near the washroom, knelt and gathered her little boy up in her arms. “I was so worried about you, baby boy. Why did you wander off?” She hugged him hard, as Andy Walker followed up the hill and touched the boy’s head, relief written on his tanned face.

“Auntie Kaffy,” the boy said and began to cry, moaning sobs that cut through the misty stillness.

“What about Auntie Kathy?” Kylie asked, searching his face, stroking his head. “Where is she? Were you trying to find her?”

Jaymie watched the tableau, and then looked over at Bernice Jenkins, who stood guard near the corner of the washroom, her expression grim in the yellow light. In the distance the sound of a siren strengthened.

“Jaymie, what the hell is going on?” Becca asked, her voice tight with fear.

Jaymie realized that she was crying. Daniel put his arm
around her shoulders and echoed Becca’s question. “What’s going on?” he asked, as a cop car screamed to a halt on the street below the park.

“It’s Kathy Cooper,” Jaymie said, her words catching on a sob. “She’s…she’s
dead
!” She hadn’t meant to say it so loud.

Kylie whirled. “What the frick are you talking about?” she asked. She handed Connor over to Andy Walker, who took the little boy a ways away, his face set and bleak. He had heard Jaymie too, probably.

Jaymie blinked, and couldn’t find the words. She just shook her head. Kylie, appearing frightened, backed away, and retreated to Andy and Connor.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Daniel said, eyeing Jaymie with concern on his face. “But I think we ought to wait until we find more out before we say another word.”

Jaymie shook her head. There was nothing more to find out; the horrible truth was that Kathy Cooper was dead. The only question was, who killed her, and why with Jaymie’s glass bowl?

More police cars screamed up, sirens wailing. Uniformed officers pushed everyone back to the bottom of the hill, onto the grass by the street, and set up a perimeter. Jaymie watched it all from Daniel’s protective embrace. But then a gray sedan arrived, and out of it stepped Detective Zachary Christian. He was the same detective who had been the investigator of the murder at the Leighton house in May. Even in the middle of the night, by the yellowish illumination of a bug light, he looked like he had stepped out of the pages of a romance novel; tall, dark haired, broad shouldered and good-looking.

He approached Bernice Jenkins, and she talked to him for a few minutes, gesturing eloquently, and finally pointing
in Jaymie’s direction. He straightened, swiveled and stared at her, a frown twisting his lips. She shrugged out of Daniel’s embrace, and stood free of him, waiting. It only took a moment. Christian headed toward her.

“What the hell happened here?” he asked, as he strode toward her.

“I wish I knew,” Jaymie said. The detective ordered the others to move away, and Jaymie repeated her story to him.