Vanessa Gray Bartal - Lacy Steele 07 - Icy Grip of Murder (12 page)

They picked up pastries and coffee
at the bakery and drove to Flea’s apartment, circling the block a few times to
make sure everything checked out. There were no police cars, marked or
otherwise, meaning Flea was not yet on their radar.

“Maybe he’s at the police station
now,” Jason said, ever reluctant to disparage a fellow cop.

“Or maybe they’re so clueless and
inept that they haven’t even heard of him,” Michael said. “Pull over so I can
go ‘stretch my legs’.”

“The lie is easier to swallow if
you don’t use air quotes,” Jason said.

“I’m not sure I should be making
anything easier for you to swallow right now,” Michael said, pointing to Jason’s
two-fisted doughnut approach.

“I’m on vacation,” Jason called,
but it was too late. Michael had already disappeared.

“I’m not eating to eat, you know?”
he continued, his tone defensive now. “I’m legitimately hungry.”

“I know,” Lacy said.

“It’s like there’s a cavern in my
stomach that only sugar can fill.”

“Preaching to the choir,” she
echoed, though she had settled for coffee and a small piece of
kringle
.

“People should be allowed to eat
when they’re hungry, and they should be allowed to eat whatever they want.”

“Amen,” Lacy said.

“Our country has unrealistic
standards about body image,” he said.

“Testify,” Lacy urged.

“What’s so bad about sugar? Why
does everyone have to eat healthy all the time? What are you doing?”

“I’m hunting for my phone. I wanted
to record that last part to play back to you later,” she said.

He shrugged and continued happily
eating his doughnuts until Michael returned an impossibly short time later.

“That was fast,” Lacy said.

“I found what I needed and wanted
to get out of there. That place is a fleabag, pun intended. Look at this.”

“What am I looking at?” Jason asked
as he took the papers Michael handed him.

“Right now you’re looking at jelly
filling and a shortened lifespan. Maybe you could wipe those fingers before you
handle evidence, Sherlock.”

Jason wiped his hands and picked up
the papers again, studying them intently. “It’s a map, obviously.”

“Yes, it’s a map of the fishing
camp. Now look at this one.” He handed over another paper. “See the difference?”

Jason shuffled back and forth between
the two papers a few times. Lacy leaned impatiently over his shoulder. They saw
it at the same time. “There’s a building on this one that’s not on this one,”
Lacy said.

“Exactly. It’s a cabin, the kind of
cabin where it would be ideal to hide someone for a couple of years. Now look
at the date on the two maps. The second one, the one without the cabin, was
created a month after Jenny disappeared. And then it was filed with the county,
along with the official deed. You can tell because it has the state seal indicating
that it’s a copy.”

“How did you find this so quickly?”
Lacy asked.

“He had it lying on a desk, but
that’s not saying much. Everything he owns is on display, like a museum for
sad, poor people. There’s a dresser, but nothing was in it. Instead all of the
clothes were strewn around the room and over the furniture.”

Jason shuddered. Lacy was glad
horror stories of messiness could still induce some reaction in him. Maybe the
real Jason was still in there somewhere.

“How do you know this means he was
hiding Jenny?” Lacy asked.

“Because I know that one of them
was hiding Jenny. There was no way she could have stayed hidden so long on her
own. Someone had to be helping her, and she had no one else. The fishing camp
was always the most likely spot, but the woods up there are so vast there was
no way to search before,” Michael said. “Let’s go find Flea and see what else
we can get out of him now that we have some leverage.”

“Do you think we could convince him
to wash his feet before we talk?” Lacy asked.

“No,” Michael said.

“The good news is that if he’s
arrested, they’ll clean him off really well,” Jason said.

“Yes, but I’ll still have to see
them today. It’s like having another person in the room, like they can sense my
fear,” she said.

Flea was at work, although what he
did at the fishing camp Lacy still hadn’t determined. Every time they saw him,
he was loitering. Thoughts of unstable employees reminded her of Suze. She made
a mental note to call her later.

As they drew closer to Flea, it was
clear he had been crying. His face was puffy, his eyes red, and his nose
trailing clear liquid that had left frost marks as he repeatedly encountered
the subzero temperatures.

“Jenny’s dead, man,” he greeted
them.

“I know, I found her,” Michael
said.

“Doesn’t that upset you?” Flea
asked.

“I grieved the last time I thought
she was dead,” Michael said. The two faced off, frowning, and Jason intervened.

“Let’s go inside and have a talk.
It’s freezing out here. Come on, we’ll turn on the fire.” He shouldered up next
to Flea, herding him inside without actually touching him. The effect was more
concerned than controlling.

“All right,” Flea agreed. He
sounded glad to have someone tell him what to do. He settled into a chair and
Jason turned on the fire. Lacy sat as far as she could from the feet while
still being able to overhear the interrogation.

“Rough night, huh?” Jason asked.
His tone was conspiratorial, as if they were all feeling the loss of Jenny
keenly.

Flea nodded, his eyes tearing up again.
“How did you hear the news?” Jason asked. He took the seat across from Flea and
pulled it closer. He didn’t glance at the feet, Lacy noted. Her boyfriend was
very brave.

“I saw and heard all the police.
They told me.”

“Where were you when you heard?”

“Sleeping in one of the cabins,” he
said before realizing he probably wasn’t supposed to confess sleeping on the
job. “I had been up the night before with one of the boilers. I was tired.”

“Sure,” Jason soothed. “So, you
were asleep in one of the cabins and the sounds and lights woke you.”

Flea nodded. He looked like a
little kid who had been sent to the principal’s office, only to find that the
principal was on his side for once. “It was crazy.”

“I’ll bet,” Jason said. “How long
were you asleep, do you think?”

“A few hours maybe.”

“Hmm. Did you see or hear anything
else weird?”

“No. Why?”

“Nothing, it’s…well, you’re not
going to like it,” Jason said.

“What?” Flea asked, scooting up in
his seat.

“Well, you were here when Jenny
died.”

Flea looked horrorstruck by the
idea. “I was?”

Jason nodded.

Flea covered his face with both
hands and wept in earnest. “I could have stopped her.”

Over his head, Jason and Michael
exchanged glances. His grief and shock seemed genuine. If he was an actor, then
he was very good.

“I don’t think you could have
stopped her,” Jason said.

When the remark registered, Flea
uncovered his face and looked up. “What?”

“Jenny. I don’t think you could
have stopped her because I don’t think she killed herself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she was murdered,” Jason
said.

Flea would be a good person to play
poker with, Lacy thought as she watched warring expressions flit across his
features. First came shock, followed by sadness, and then replaced quickly by
anger. As soon as the anger hit, he pounced on Michael. Jason peeled him off
and tossed him back down into the chair. Clumps of mud flew off his feet. Lacy
lifted her feet and sat on them, crossing her arms protectively over her chest
in case one of the pieces flew high. At all costs, she must not touch the foot
mud.

“He killed her, he killed Jenny,”
Flea screamed, reaching for Michael again. Jason pinned him to the chair with
one arm.

“No, he didn’t. He was with us the
whole time,” Jason said.

“But he had to,” Flea said.

“Why? What was his motive?” Jason
asked.

Apparently Flea couldn’t wave his
arms and think at the same time because when his expression became strained,
his arms stopped flailing. “He was mad because she framed him for murder?”

“Yes, but he got in a lot of
trouble for that pretend murder. He had already been arrested and was out on
bond, plus
he was being tailed by the police
.
Committing a murder that you’re already a suspect for doesn’t seem very smart,
does it?”

Flea shook his head.

“And Michael’s a pretty smart guy,
isn’t he?”

Flea nodded. “That’s how he could
have killed her and gotten away with it.” His eyes bored resentfully into
Michael.

“Maybe, but he’s not smart enough
to disappear, and my girlfriend and I have been with him every minute the last
few days.” He sat, resuming his gentle, friendly tone. “Here’s my question for
you, Flea, and it’s an important one. If Michael didn’t kill Jenny, and I’m
sure he didn’t, who did?”

“I don’t know,” Flea said. He
looked down, nervously twisting his fingers together.

“I think you have some idea.”

He shook his head.

“You were ready to accuse Michael.
Why not someone else? Is it because you think it might be one of your friends?”

“No,” Flea blurted, too quickly to
be convincing.

Jason let the silence settle
between them for a full minute until Flea squirmed. “Let’s talk about the
cabin.”

“What cabin?” Flea asked as he
resumed finger twining.

“The cabin where you were keeping
Jenny.”

Flea’s head shot up. “What? I
wasn’t, I swear.”

Jason stayed silent.

“Really, I would never. She and I
weren’t, uh, I didn’t hide her here.”

“I never said the cabin was here,”
Jason said.

Flea looked momentarily caught, and
then he began to cry again. “Okay, I was helping her hide, but I didn’t kill
her. I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Jason said, his
tone soothing and paternal once again. After giving the other man a chance to
compose himself again, he continued. “Let’s talk about the cabin. How long had
you been hiding her?”

“Since the beginning, since she
disappeared.”

“You mean since everyone thought I
killed her,” Michael said. He shifted impatiently as if he now wanted to take a
turn leaping for Flea’s throat. Lacy put up a hand and tugged him back. By now
she was well acquainted with Jason’s tactics. He was trying to lull Flea into
telling them everything. If he became defensive, he would stop being such a
helpful font of information.

“I couldn’t come forward,” Flea
exclaimed.

“Why not?” Jason asked. His fists
were curled, but his tone was gentle. Lacy had no idea how he could appear kind
to someone he obviously detested.

“Because I needed the money,” Flea
blurted. It was Jason’s turn to be surprised. He blinked a few times as he
digested the new development.

“Jenny was paying you to hide her?”

Flea nodded. “She paid me for food
and supplies and stuff and then she paid me extra to keep the secret.”

“Where did she get the money?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell
me. But it was something big. I could tell by the amount of cash she gave me
every month.”

“Did she ever leave the cabin?”
Jason asked.

“Sometimes,” Flea said, sounding
oddly guilty.

“Did you follow her and try to
figure out what she was up to?”

Flea shrugged.

“You can tell us if you did,” Jason
said.

“She would have been mad if she
knew. She would have killed me.”

“Did you find out what she was up
to?” Jason asked. He, Lacy, and Michael leaned breathlessly closer.

“Nothing, as far as I could tell.
She took walks in the woods.”

“Did she ever carry anything with
her?” Jason asked.

“A small hiking backpack.” He
paused, glanced down, and quickly looked back up. “I looked through it once.”

“And?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It was
nothing. Some water, some snacks,
lip gloss
. Girl
stuff.”

“Did anyone come to the cabin to
see her?” Jason asked.

Flea shrugged again. “I don’t
know.”

“Did they?” Jason pressed, his tone
becoming more authoritative, less friendly. Flea looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t here all
the time and the
cabin’s
in the middle of nowhere. I
don’t know.”

“I think you do. I think you’re
covering for someone,” Jason said.

“I’m not,” Flea said, but his voice
has lost its earlier earnestness. He was clearly lying; even Lacy could see it,
and she was horrible at gauging people’s honesty. She tended to think everyone
told the truth. “Why do you care? You didn’t know her.”

“I’m trying to do you a favor,”
Jason said.

“How so?”

“Maybe not now, but someday the
cops are going to come calling on you. Think about it, Flea. You were hiding
Jenny. You were the only person here when she was killed. Who do you think
their number one suspect will be?”

“Yeah, but I…I would never…I
didn’t…” He looked close to panic. “What should I do?”

“Tell the truth so we can help you.
We’re going to figure out who killed Jenny. I don’t think you did it, but I
think you might know who did. Tell me who it is, and we’ll prove it.”

Flea looked down at his mottled
fingers again. This time when he looked up, he didn’t make eye contact with
anyone. “I don’t know who.”

Jason sighed and stood up. “For
your sake, Flea, I hope we figure out who it was before they decide to come for
you. As far as they’re concerned, you might be the only witness. Think about it
and let us know if you want to talk.” He handed him a business card.

Flea studied it with a scowl. “Hey,
you’re a detective.”