Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9) (12 page)

Jason was tired. For most of his
life since his brother died, there were nights when sleep was elusive. Weighed
down by the anxiety of trying to keep everything in his life together, he
tended to fixate on worries and mental to-do lists. Only since he had started
dating Lacy had things gotten better. He was learning to let things go, to live
more in the moment, to not be the fixer of all life’s problems. Sharing his
long bottled feelings with her had been as good as therapy, and loads cheaper.
And she made him laugh, which had done more for his mental health than
anything. But now he was worried about her and her family situation and the old
anxieties were pressing on him again. What if, in trying to involve himself in
her parents’ separation, he ended up messing things up more than they already
were? What if he did irreparable damage to a family for whom secrets had become
a way of life? What was the best thing to do in the situation?

He had tossed and turned, going
over and over the things he knew and the things he suspected. At last it
occurred to him that he didn’t have to be alone in the situation; there was
someone he could call, someone who had an even more vested interest in the
situation than he did. So he got up early and used the resort’s public phone to
make several calls, one to the secretary he shared with the sheriff and
Detective Arroyo, one to a buddy at the state crime testing lab, and one to Mr.
Middleton. Jason had been sure that his former high school principal, and
Lacy’s grandfather, would know the right thing to do, and he had.

“I think it’s time this family got
some things out in the open,” Mr. Middleton said.

“What about Mrs. Craig?” Jason
asked. Lacy’s grandmother had been loathe to tell Frannie anything about her
past.

“Let me worry about her. I’ve been
preparing her for this moment, and she’s starting to come around. You take care
of Lacy, and we’ll trust that everything will work out in the end.”

Jason hung up feeling lighter than
he had in days. At last everything in the Steele family would be out in the
open. Whether it would work to get Clint and Frannie back together remained to
be seen, but at least the truth would be out there. Lacy wouldn’t have to be
the bearer of family secrets anymore, something that had weighed on her since
she found out the truth of her mother’s parentage. He was so anxious to get the
weight off everyone’s shoulders that he almost called a family meeting right
then. It was too soon, however. He was still waiting on an important phone
call.

In the meantime, he left to get
more coffee. The carob juice wasn’t cutting it for him. He needed the good
stuff, and at this point the battery acid they served at his office would have
sufficed. On impulse, he bought another coffee for Detective Green. Maybe it
was kindness or maybe it was the giddiness of being nearly done with the Steele
family secrets that made him momentarily bighearted.

He regretted the gesture as soon as
he handed the coffee over. “Two days in a row, Cantor? Are you angling for a
job with our department?” Detective Green said, though he accepted the coffee
and took a grateful glug.

“Just being friendly,” Jason said, trying
to hide how peeved the comment made him. The last thing he wanted was to be
seen as some overeager young pup who couldn’t get enough police business when
the truth was that he was glad to be away from work and wanted no part of the
Detective’s investigation. He turned to go. The Detective hailed him back.

“Hold up there. We could use you,
if you’re willing?”

“Use me for what?” Jason asked.

The Detective smiled wryly. “No
need to look so suspicious, Cantor. We’re not going to dress you like a dame and
make you wear a wire or anything. We’ve hit a snag with the case.”

“What sort of snag?”

“The poison. She definitely had
some strychnine in her system, but not enough to do the job. The ME thinks it
was the cyanide that did it.”

“And you haven’t been able to link
that to Sven?”

“Nope. The so-called health drink
he gave us to test didn’t have it. There was no rat poison in his place, none
here. He must have stashed it somewhere, which wouldn’t be too hard, what with
the amount of trash this place goes through. You could throw out anything, and
it would never be found.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“We thought if you talked to him
sort of friendly like and made up to him, maybe you could make some headway,
give us some direction with a motive.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to
me?” Jason asked. “He knows I’m a cop.”

“But he also likes your girlfriend.
He thinks she’s on his side. Maybe you could use that, play up to him all buddy
buddy. We’re close to a breakthrough, I can feel it. We need the scales to tip
a bit more, and we’ll have him.”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jason said.
“Is he here now?”

“He’ll be here in an hour.”

“He’s still coming to work?”

“He’s not the brightest bulb,”
Detective Green said. “If you find him on your own, it’ll look less like a
setup.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jason promised.
He eased away again and the Detective didn’t hail him back. He walked to Lacy’s
room and knocked on the door. Riley answered while bouncing the baby up and
down. “Is…” he began, but Riley preempted him.

“Lacy, it’s Jason,” she yelled and
closed the door in his face.

Lacy appeared a minute later. “She
was abrupt,” he said.

“After taking a turn with the baby
a couple of nights, I can’t say I blame her. We’re lucky she isn’t pulling out
shivs and stabbing people at this point,” Lacy said.

“Well, the baby’s young. Give her
time,” Jason said. “Do you have an opening for breakfast?”

“I have a few minutes before I meet
Snaps.”

“Then you definitely need to fuel
up. Bird watching is a calorie burn.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Have you ever seen an overweight
birder? I haven’t. Then again, I’ve also never seen one under the age of
eighty, but to each his own.”

“Hey, I’m excited about this. I’ve
always wanted to see a snowy owl.”

“Always?” he said.

“Or maybe since Snaps told me about
them last night, but it feels like forever.”

“So have breakfast with me before
you head out to your lifelong dream of twelve hours,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. She was smiling
as she took his hand. “Guess what?”

“What?” he asked, and now he was smiling,
too. She had that effect on him.

“I’ve lost seven pounds.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? Oh?”

“That’s it,” he said.

“I thought you’d be happy,” she
said.

“Why would you think that?” he
asked.

“Because I did it. I met my goal,
stuck to my diet and exercise, and lost the weight.”

“Are you back on normal food now?”
he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“I’ll withhold my joy until you’re
back on people food,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but he
could tell by the furrow between her eyes that she was peeved. They finished
the walk to the dining room in silence. A waiter held her chair for her and
they sat down. Jason picked up the menu. Lacy stared longingly at hers until
the waiter appeared.

“Did Sven leave instructions for
me?” she asked him.

He asked for her name and consulted
an electronic device in his pocket. “Yes, I’ll bring it right out, madam.”

“Okay, thank you,” Lacy said with
barely concealed disappointment. Jason remained silent until the green striped
drink arrived.

“What is it?” he asked the waiter.

“Chef’s specialty—kale and
seaweed smoothie.”

“Mmm,” Jason said, rubbing his
stomach. “Sounds delicious.”

The waiter left without comment.
Jason and Lacy stared at each other over the smoothie that smelled like old
fish. “What?” Lacy said. She threw the word out like a challenge.

“You know,” Jason said. He was as
determined not to have an argument as she was determined to have one.

“I don’t think I do. Why don’t you
enlighten me?”

“This diet is crazy. You don’t need
to lose weight,” he said.

“My pants were getting tight,” she
said.

“So? Everyone’s weight fluctuates a
few pounds. You would have lost it eventually in a sensible manner through diet
and exercise.”

“What if I didn’t? What if I kept
gaining and gaining until I was back at my high school weight? And what if I
surpassed that? What if I kept gaining weight until I became one of those women
the fire department had to cut out of her house?”

Ding,
ding, ding.
Finally, he understood. It had eluded him why a few measly
pounds should put her into such a panic, but it wasn’t a few pounds she was
afraid of—it was the loss of control and a whole lot of pounds.

“That’s not going to happen,” he
said.

She threw up her hands in
frustration. The menu fluttered to the floor. She bent to pick it up and cracked
her head on the corner of the table. “You can’t possibly know that. Women gain
a lot of weight all the time.”

“Your mom didn’t,” he pointed out.

“Mom and I are different,” Lacy
said.

“Genetics,” he began, but she
interrupted him.

“Genetics don’t outweigh
environment.” She was still rubbing her head where she had cracked it on the
table. Her eyes were watering. She had barely slept in two days, and she hadn’t
eaten anything that required chewing in days. Now was not the time to be having
a serious discussion, but now that they had started, Jason couldn’t see a way
out of it.

“Worst case scenario, you gain an
obscene amount of weight. What do you think is the worst thing that will
happen?”

“I won’t feel good about myself,
none of my clothes will fit, I’ll be unhealthy, and we’ll break up.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the first
three, but why would we break up?”

“Because I’ll be fat,” she said.

“So? You think I would dump you
because you gain a little weight? Do you think thirty extra pounds will
fundamentally change who you are as a person?”

“No, but the only difference
between the person I am now and the person I was in high school is those same
thirty pounds,” she said.

“That is not even a little bit
true. You were insecure in high school. You have grown and matured immensely.
And you’re not in love with Chester Campbell anymore,” he said.

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

“You were so into him that you
never looked twice at me. Maybe if you had…”

She snorted a laugh. “What? You would
have run off the football field, into the bleachers, grabbed my clarinet away,
and kissed me passionately?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” he
said.

She laughed, a real laugh this
time. “You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re delusional if you think
a little bit of extra weight will change how I feel about you. Besides, do you
think I’m going to look like this forever?”

“I had kind of hoped so, yes,” she
said.

“I hate to disappoint you, but
apparently you haven’t seen a recent picture of my dad. Even though he doesn’t
drink anymore, he still has a beer belly. And a bald spot.” He took her hand
and kissed it. “I was kind of hoping we could grow old and saggy together,
otherwise you’re going to look like a trophy next to my paunchy baldness.”

She took his other hand and gave it
a squeeze. “Jason, you are adorably sweet and you always know the right thing
to say to talk me down from the ledge. I’m glad you accept me as I am, but I
don’t think I can date a man with male pattern baldness. I have standards.”

“Chester Campbell standards?”

“That’s right, and you, my friend,
are no Chester Campbell.”

“It kills me to constantly be
second fiddle to that guy,” he said.

“I keep hoping you’ll shrink a
foot, lose all muscle tone, and ugly your face until it resembles a weasel like
Chester. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to work with what you’ve got,” she
said.

“Thank you for taking me as I am,”
he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. She
brushed a finger over his lashes. She loved his lashes. He knew because she had
told him so, repeatedly. It was the one feature he had always hated about
himself. To him, they had always seemed girly. Men weren’t supposed to have
long, thick lashes. Lacy didn’t seem to know or care, though.

His breakfast arrived and he began
to eat. Lacy used a spoon to nibble at her smoothie. Whether she was trying to
make it last or delaying actually having to eat it he didn’t know and didn’t
ask. They had talked enough about her food for the day. The rest of breakfast
was pleasant, and then it was time to say goodbye.

“Have fun with the owls,” he said.

“I’ll try my best,” she said.

“Don’t fall for this Snaps guy. He
looks like your type.”

“That’s mean,” she said.

He laughed, kissed her goodbye, and
checked his watch. It was time to find Sven.

           
Jason
found Sven in the resort’s world-class gym. He could get used to a place like
this. It made the decrepit gym in the basement of the sheriff’s office seem
like someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The equipment here was state of the art,
but he had the feeling it wasn’t living up to its purpose. Currently the only
other patron was Sven’s client, an overweight old lady who complained about
every lift of the five-pound free weight. Jason meandered to the weights and
began to lift until at last Sven called an end to the painful session.

“When do you think I’ll see
results?” the old lady asked. Jason had watched her reluctantly lift the weight
four times in twenty minutes, each time being coaxed by Sven like a marathoner
on her last mile.

“Thoon,” Sven promised as he
cleaned the weight and deposited it back on the rack. “Time for your mathage,
Mitheth Hudthon.”

“I’m ready for it this morning
after all that hard work,” Mrs. Hudson said, dabbing delicately at the
non-existent sweat on her upper lip. She toddled out of the gym. Sven waited
until she was gone and then came over to stand beside Jason. He picked up a
fifty-pound barbell and began to pump with a vengeance.

For a while they lifted in silence.
Jason tried to figure out how to broach the subject of the murder and make it
seem normal. In the end, Sven did it for him.

“It’th Rick, right?”

“Sure,” Jason said.

“How’th Joan?” Sven asked.

“Doing well,” Jason said, somewhat
uncertainly. Was he asking about Lacy’s overall health or her weight loss?

“Thee mutht have been thaken up
after dithcovering Jill like that,” Sven said.

“It was a shock,” Jason agreed. “I
was with her, you know.”

Sven squinted. “You’re a polithe
offither. You mutht be uthed to thingth like that.”

“If you ever get used to finding
dead bodies, it’s probably time to retire,” Jason said. He set down his weight
and retrieved a bottle of water. Since the resort didn’t believe in using
plastic, the bottles were made of glass. Maybe it was his imagination, but the
water tasted better somehow, as if by virtue of being more expensive it also
had to have a better flavor. Or maybe plastic actually made water taste bad and
he had never noticed before.

“I thtill can’t believe thee’s
gone,” Sven said. He seemed chatty, which went a long way toward helping
Jason’s cause. Prying information out of reluctant suspects was never an easy
task.

“You guys were tight?” Jason asked.
Sven set down his weight. Jason grabbed another bottle of water and tossed it
to him.

“I wouldn’t thay that. Jill wathn’t
the type of perthon you could be friendth with. But we had worked together
awhile. We were competitorth. I think that made me a better trainer.”

“Who do you think killed her?”
Jason asked.

Sven frowned. “I don’t like to thay
bad thingth about people.”

“Even if it gets your butt out of
the sling? You know the locals think you did it,” Jason said. His tone was
conspiratorial, as if he thought the cops were crazy and there was no way Sven
was the killer. In reality, he thought Sven was the most likely culprit. While
it was true that he seemed like a nice guy, he also had the physique of someone
who took steroids, and they could do crazy things to a person.

“Thee and her boyfriend had been
fighting a lot,” Sven finally said.

“Who was her boyfriend?”

Sven looked pained, but it could
have been part of his nice guy act. After all, he was still coughing up the
information, no matter how reluctantly. “Derek. He workth the front dethk a
lot. I thought they were getting theriouth, but then thee up and dumped him.”

“Did she say why?”

“Thee thaid thee would be moving on
thoon and didn’t want Derek to ride her coat tailth.” He took a surreptitious
look around the room. “I think he hit her.”

“No offense, but Jill doesn’t seem
like the type who would lie back and take a punch.”

“I didn’t thay thee didn’t hit him
back,” Sven said.

“Did she say what she meant by
moving on?”

Sven shrugged his massive
shoulders. It was like watching two boulders rise and fall. “Jill wath alwayth
talking about thome big thing that wath going to make her famouth.”

“The police think it was your
drink. They say she wanted to bottle and sell it.”

“Of courth thee did. Thee wath
crathy, but it wathn’t going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, the cotht would
have been athtronomical. My couthin picked it up in remote Mexthico, not the
kind of plathe where they have Fed-exth. Thomeone would have had to go down
there and pick it up, but that wath the leatht of the problemth with it. No way
it would have been FDA approved.”

“What did Jill say when you told
her that?”

“Thee thaid we could thell it black
market and charge thuch a high prithe that the thipping problemth would be
worth it,” he said. “Like I said, crathy. I wanted no part of thome illegal
thipping and thelling thcheme.”

Jason was becoming adept at
translating the lisp. He barely noticed it anymore. “So if it wasn’t your drink
she was bottling, do you have any guesses on what her alleged big break was?”

“No, although thee thpent a ton of
time on her phone the latht few weekth, which wath a real rithk. We’re not
thuppothed to have our phoneth on uth while we work.”

“I thought you can’t get a signal
here,” Jason said.

“You can’t. That’th what made it
tho weird. Thee kept checking and checking her phone like thee had methageth,
but there wath no way, unleth it wath operating on thatellite or thomething.”

Jason wondered if the locals had
discovered Jill’s phone. He made a mental note to ask Detective Green.

“One of the cops told me that a
witness saw you two fighting the day before the murder.”

Sven sighed, a long expressive
sound. “We did, and I puthed her. Not my finetht moment.”

“What happened? What was it about?”

“It’th tho embarrathing, I hate to
even tell you.”

“Any information you give me might
help your case,” Jason cajoled.

Sven took a breath like he was
gearing himself up for something unpleasant. “Jill wath making fun of me.”

“What about?” Jason asked, although
he had a good idea. From what he had heard about Jill, she seemed like the type
of person to pick on a person’s obvious flaws. Sven’s lisp must have made good
fodder for someone like her.

“Ithn’t it obviouth?” Sven asked.

“I’d still like you to tell me,”
Jason said.

“Thee wath making fun of my bald
thpot.”

Jason blinked at him. He couldn’t
see any bald spot, but Sven was taller. “I can’t say I’ve noticed a bald spot.”

“Are you joking me? It’th tho
obviouth. It hath to be the firtht thing people notithe about me.”

“I highly doubt that,” Jason said.

“No, it’th awful. I’ve been theeing
a doctor about it, and Jill found out. Thee wath tormenting me, calling me
hairleth, and I lotht it and puthed her. You try tho hard to be perfect, you
know? And then thomething like thith happenth. It’th thuch a huge turnoff. I
know it’th why I can’t get a date.” He smoothed his hand nervously over his hair.

“I highly doubt that,” Jason
repeated. “Maybe you’re dating the wrong sort of women. Lacy—er,
Joan—isn’t like that. She doesn’t care about physical appearance or any
other, uh, impediment.”

“Joan ith one in a million. I could
tell from the beginning we were kindred thpirith.”

“Hmm,” Jason said. He didn’t relish
another man describing his girlfriend as a “kindred spirit,” especially when
that man looked like a blond-haired mountain.

Sven checked his watch. “I have
another client. Thankth for letting me unload thtuff, man. And if you could put
in a good word with the local copth, I’d apprethiate it.”

“I’ll talk to them right now,”
Jason promised, and he didn’t feel guilty because he hadn’t found anything
condemning on Sven, nothing more than Detective Green already knew, except the
fact that Sven was beginning to bald. But if baldness made men murderers, then
the jails would soon be overflowing.

Sven left. Jason found Detective
Green at the resort’s “coffee” bar, sucking on a cup of something hot with a
sick-looking grimace.

“I can’t believe people pay more
than I make in a month to stay here and drink this stuff,” Green said.

“Why don’t you send one of your
newbies on a coffee run?”

“Can’t. I don’t have any to spare.
There’s a hostage situation on the other side of town and every free hand went
there. It’s just me and one guy from the state crime lab today.”

“Tough break,” Jason said. It took
an army to investigate a murder properly. Scenes had to be gone over with a
fine-tooth comb, witnesses had to be interviewed, areas had to be canvased.

“It is what it is. Did you talk to
our man?”

“I did,” Jason said. He sat.

“And?”

“And I’m afraid I didn’t get your
motive. I found out what the fight was about, though. She called him bald.”

The detective choked a little.
“What?”

“Jill called him bald. He got mad
and pushed her.”

“What is this, the second grade?”

“Apparently he’s fairly sensitive
about his hair.”

“Well, that certainly makes him a
psycho in my book,” Detective Green said. His hair was mostly gone, and it
didn’t seem to bother him.

“Did you find her phone?”

“No, but then we could never
establish she had one. Some of the people here don’t because they buy into all
the no technology crap.”

“She definitely had one, and Sven
said she was on it all the time in the weeks before the murder?”

“What would have been the point
when there is no signal here?”

“Exactly,” Jason said. “My guess is
whatever got her killed was on that phone and the murderer knew and took it.”

“Well, that’s just great. How are
we supposed to get Sven’s phone to check it out? He doesn’t bring his phone
with him to work, because believe me we checked. We can’t get to it unless we
get another warrant for his home, and we can’t get another warrant for his home
until we have enough to arrest him, and now we can’t get enough to arrest him
unless we get his phone. Great, although I’m sure he’s deleted everything
incriminating by now, if he has an ounce of brains in that giant albino gorilla
head of his.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Sv…”

The detective held up a hand to cut
him off. “Don’t say it. Because if it isn’t him, I’ve got nothing else.
Everyone else checked out.”

“What about the boyfriend? Sven
said he thinks he hit her. Could be the source of her chin punch.”

He set down his cup so hard that a bit
of murky green liquid splashed over the side. “What boyfriend?”

“Derek, the desk clerk.”

“That sniveling little creep who’s
been shuttling us around here was dating her? He never said a word, of course
why would he, but nobody else did, either. How’d you find out?”

Jason didn’t want to tell him about
Lacy’s snooping, but thankfully he didn’t have to. “Sven mentioned it.”

The detective slammed his hand on
the table. “I’m going to skin that little chipmunk alive and make him wish he’d
never been born.”

By the mention of the word
“little,” Jason assumed he was referring to Derek. “Go get him,” he said,
although if what Lacy had told him was true, he wouldn’t find much. The
detective stalked off looking determined. Jason contemplated ordering
something, decided against it, and turned to go. Maybe he would find the guys
and have another game of basketball before it was time to leave.

He met up with Kimber outside the
cafe. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, concern heavy in her voice.

“Yes, why?”

“Because Lacy is out with another
man and you’re not doing you’re usual alpha male jealous freakout.”

“Oh, Kimber, how I love our talks.”
He poked her shoulder. Kimber loved to call him out on his jealousy, but the
truth was that she was jealous, too. She wasn’t used to having to share her
best friend with anyone.

“Seriously, though, have you
finally decided to go Zen about your relationship?”

“I don’t know how to put this
without sounding like the shallow jock Lacy used to accuse me of being, but
have you seen the guy? He looks like Winnie the Pooh, only less threatening.”

“That’s where you’re wrong because
he’s a software developer. You know what that means? Ka-ching,” Kimber said.

“Money means nothing to Lacy.”

“He’s also an artist. He did this
picture.” She pointed to the giant photograph to her right. Jason stared at it
for a few beats longer than necessary, took a step closer, and sniffed.

“Uh, what are you doing? Is this
some new form of art appreciation?”

“Come here and smell this,” Jason
commanded.

“No, thanks, I’m good,” Kimber
said.

He put an arm around her and pulled
her forward. “I’m serious. What does this smell like to you?”

“Chemicals?” she guessed, still not
sure what he was getting at.

“Exactly.”

“Why is that weird?”

“Because most people today make
sepia toned pictures on their computers. It smells like nothing more than
canvas when it’s finished. This was done the old fashioned way.”

“So?”

“So do you remember junior year
when we were on yearbook together?”

“You mean when the guidance
counselor made you join because all your extracurriculars were sports?”

“Yes, now shut up and think back.
Remember how we wanted to do that layout in sepia? This was back in the days
before
Photoshop
became ubiquitous,
so we had to do it the old school way.”

“Right,” she said.

“Do you remember what happened?”