AFTER DASHING TO my car, I cranked up the heat and tried to ignore the rain pattering the windshield.
Ordinarily I loved the sound of rain. But while I sat with Emmy Lee Barstow’s file open in my lap the falling rain sounded like a thousand tiny fingers beating an impatient rhythm against my windshield. It served as a less than subtle cue that it was time for me to go and work on that report.
I didn’t need the universe to offer me any reminders of my task at hand. I knew I’d have to answer to a six foot, pissed off deputy prosecutor if I didn’t deliver before she left for the day. But I had a more immediate problem because I had taken Vernon’s advice.
Now I couldn’t stop staring at the close-up of Emmy Lee’s face.
Along with a pink lipstick smear that extended half her mouth into a gruesome Joker’s smirk, a scatter-shot of freckles peeked out between several horizontal swaths of streaky foundation.
I didn’t see any red marks or bruises to indicate physical violence, but some violence had certainly been done to Emmy Lee’s typical mask of picture perfect makeup.
Inky trails of mascara and eyeliner at her temples made it appear as if she had been lying down when the tears started flowing. Okay, so that might explain the lack of vertical stripes on her cheeks, but why the creamy horizontal swaths?
I studied a wider shot that showed the liquor bottle on the bed next to her. It was impossible to tell from the picture, but if the rim of the bottle was coated with a layer of foundation, I could almost envision it being used to hoe those streaky rows.
Why the heck she would have done that to herself, I couldn’t imagine. It seemed so out of character for Emmy Lee, but if she had been agonizing over some drama with the guy in the ball cap, what did I know?
The only thing I knew for sure was that she had been with that man after she was last seen at Irene Rutherford’s house, and now she was dead.
As much as I wanted to believe Vernon when he insisted that nothing had changed recently in Emmy Lee’s behavior, I couldn’t.
Something had changed—something he didn’t want to talk about.
I opened my notebook and circled Katelyn Quinn’s name. Maybe Emmy Lee had confided that something to her best friend.
Suddenly, I heard tapping at the passenger window and practically jumped out of my skin. Not that I had expected to see a life-sized garden gnome glaring through the window at me, but I hadn’t expected Joanne Barstow either.
With fingers tingling with adrenaline I tucked her daughter-in-law’s file away in my tote bag. No point in increasing Joanne’s misery index by giving her an opportunity to see those pictures.
After I reached across the console to open the door, I noticed she wasn’t wearing anything to shield herself from the rain. “Get in before you get soaked.”
“Never mind that,” she said, sliding onto the seat next to me. “I wanted to catch you before you left. Did Vernon mention some things going missing?”
I shook my head.
She puckered. “I knew he wouldn’t.”
“What’s missing?”
“It’s going to sound a little strange, but as most everyone around here knows, Em had a love for garden gnomes.”
“I saw several of the little guys in the front yard.”
“There were some bigger ones—a set of four jolly Santa lookalikes that she featured when she decorated the house for Christmas.”
I remembered seeing them front and center with a string of festive lights. “Maybe they were put away with the rest of the Christmas decorations.”
“She didn’t put these away.”
Fine. “What makes you so sure that they’ve gone missing?”
“They were out front Friday morning, when Lorelei left for school, but were gone by the time she got home.”
“Your granddaughter told you this?”
She nodded. “That night, when I came over to stay with her while Vernon searched for Em. Lorelei walked right by them every day so I have no reason to doubt her.”
Neither did I, but missing Santa gnomes seemed more like a prank than something to be seriously concerned about. “There could be a reasonable explanation. Did you ask your son about it?”
“He won’t discuss it. Says it’s unimportant. But I think he’s wrong. Yard statues just don’t walk away. They were taken, and on the same day that Emmy Lee was taken from us.”
She had a point. If Emmy Lee didn’t go willingly with the ball cap guy, the timing of the disappearances was beyond weird.
Joanne Barstow leveled her gaze at me, her blue eyes cold as ice. “Are you going to tell me that the two aren’t connected?”
I wasn’t even going to try.
* * *
I had no time this morning to spin my wheels on a possible gnome-napping. It didn’t matter that my gut was screaming at my rational mind that the odds of the Santas and Emmy Lee going missing on the same day had to be astronomical. I’d be in for an epic ass-chewing if I didn’t maintain my focus on the nice lady who had been found dead in that hotel room, so I headed to the south end of town to find out what her best friend could tell me.
Katelyn Tuttle Quinn had grown up in the area, but had married and moved to Seattle back when I was still playing with dolls, so I couldn’t say that I knew her all that well.
Most of my information about Katelyn had come from working at Duke’s—Port Merritt’s Gossip Central—last summer, when the scuttlebutt had been about the attractive single mom coming back to take over her dad’s printing business after his death. Typically, all of her orders were to-go, so I had assumed that she was either a workaholic or she didn’t want to leave her younger brother, Parker, in charge of the shop.
By the way Parker had been leering at me from the moment I’d stepped through the door of Tuttle’s Printing and Copying, I knew I was right on that last part.
His thin lips stretched into a smarmy smile as he flattened his palms on the counter separating us. “How may I help you today?”
“I need to speak with Katelyn. Is she in?”
Heaving a sigh as if to suggest that I’d wounded him by choosing his sister over him, his gaze lingered on me for a couple of uncomfortable seconds. “I’ll see if she’s available.”
He disappeared into a back room and returned with an annoyed-looking older sister.
“Something I can help you with?” she asked.
I flashed my badge. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Charmaine Digby—”
“I know who you are.”
I glanced at her brother, who was doing a poor imitation of a man concentrating on his work. “Is there somewhere we could talk privately?”
Katelyn’s look of annoyance intensified a split second before she turned on her heel. “Come on back.”
I followed her through a narrow path bordered by copiers and work tables to a cramped back room office, and sat at the black vinyl chair she offered me.
“What’s this about?” she asked, tucking a lock of honey brown hair behind her ear as she settled in behind a battered leather-topped desk.
“We’re looking into Emmy Lee Barstow’s death, and I was hoping that you could help with some background information.”
The hard edge to Katelyn’s eyes softened at the mention of her friend’s name. “Whatever I can do to help.”
I grabbed my notebook and pen. “I understand that you and Emmy Lee were good friends.”
Nodding, she blinked back tears. “Since high school.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Saturday of last week, when she came over to pick up Lorelei after a sleepover.” Katelyn reached for a tissue. “Poor thing. She’s devastated. We all are.”
“How did Emmy Lee seem to you that day? Did you have a chance to talk?”
“She couldn’t stay long because she had an appointment later at someone’s house. You know, one of those makeup demo parties.”
I hadn’t known that she did in-home parties, but I nodded all the same. “How was her mood?”
Katelyn frowned. “Her mood was just fine. And if you’re here to find out why she would have killed herself, you’re wasting your time, because she wouldn’t have.”
Experiencing a sense of déjà vu because she’d just echoed what Vernon Barstow had told me thirty minutes earlier, I pasted a polite smile on my face. “This is just to get a sense of what was going on in her life.”
Emmy Lee’s best friend blew her nose. “I’ll tell you what was going on. She was busy—especially the last few months with Vernon being laid up—and youth soccer just started last week. Both our girls are enrolled in that. Gymnastics, too. And since her schedule is more flexible than mine, Em picked them up after practice.” Tears cascaded over her long lashes as Katelyn squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know what I’ll do…”
She left the rest unsaid. Probably because she thought it sounded selfish.
It didn’t. It sounded like she was still processing the loss of her best friend. “The two of you have had a lot to deal with lately.”
Nodding, she swiped the tears away from her cheeks. “Sorry, I thought I was all cried out.” She aimed a sad smile at me. “Good thing I used the waterproof mascara today.”
If she had, that was all she used because Katelyn’s face was almost devoid of color.
“I understand.” I scanned my notes to give her some time to collect herself. “So Emmy Lee had been busier than usual the last few months. Would it be safe to assume that money was a little tighter with Vernon not working?”
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Did she discuss any other…difficulties with you?”
Katelyn winced. “Not really.”
That would be a yes. “I spoke to Vernon earlier this morning. He’s obviously quite limited physically.”
“It’s been a slow recovery since he hurt his back. Frustrating for both of them.”
“Had she mentioned if it had been a while since they were intimate?” I asked, hoping the cringe going on in my gut didn’t show on my face.
Katelyn gave me a frosty glare. “Really? This is the kind of background information you need?”
“Sorry. It goes to her state of mind.” Especially given where she was found.
Folding her arms against her curvy frame, Katelyn’s mouth pursed in disgust. “We didn’t discuss it in detail, but yes. It had probably been a while.”
“Did she ever give you the impression that there may have been someone new in her life?”
“What? Because Em wasn’t getting enough at home?”
That wasn’t the way I wanted to phrase it, but I knew there was little I could say to make what I was asking more palatable. “Again, just trying to understand what was going on with her in the last couple of weeks.”
Katelyn shook her head. “There was nothing like that going on.”
I believed her in as much as she knew the intimate details of Emmy Lee Barstow’s life. “If there were, would she have told you?”
“We’d been best friends for over thirty years. If she were having an affair, I’d know about it.”
Maybe she would, but what if Emmy Lee had recently hooked up with the guy? “Okay, have you noticed her flirt with anyone? Have a chance encounter with anyone?”
I got another head shake. “She was friendly, not flirty.”
“Maybe when you were out someone tried to buy her a drink?”
“She didn’t drink.”
Again, Katelyn reinforced what Vernon Barstow had told me. “Doesn’t mean someone didn’t try to come on to her.”
“Guys sure used to when we were younger.” Her chin trembled as she succumbed to another onslaught of tears. “Heck, Em was gorgeous, but she was also a Girl Scout. She’d flash that wedding ring and send them on their way.”
Then how did this Girl Scout end up dead in a hotel room?
I decided to lay my cards on the table. “You know about where she was found, right?”
Katelyn blotted her eyes. “I heard from Vernon.”
“Do you have any idea who Emmy Lee might have gone there with?”
“No. This is so not her that I can’t even believe….”
One last try. “Did you ever see her with a guy wearing a ball cap? Maybe someone in his thirties?”
“Not that I ever noticed, but I wish I had.” Katelyn fixed me with an icy stare. “Then I might be able to tell you something to help get the guy who killed her.”
Whoa. She was opening the door to something far beyond the scope of the preliminary report I was supposed to be writing.
I snapped my notebook shut to signal the end of the interview. “Thank you. I think I have everything I need.” And then some.
She pushed away from her desk. “So what happens next?”
I write a report and deliver it to Shondra before the end of the day. But I knew that wasn’t the kind of happening Katelyn wanted to hear about. “I really can’t say.”
“I get it.” She gave me a knowing look. “You can’t comment while an investigation is underway.”
If I did and that got back to Frankie, my ass would be grass. I handed Katelyn my card. “If you think of anything that might be helpful to our investigation, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
She dropped the card on the desk. “You said you wanted to know about Em’s state of mind. To really understand her you need to know that she had four miscarriages.”
I wasn’t sure where Katelyn was going with this, but I had no choice but to follow.
“The fourth one Vernon never even knew about. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, but she told me. Came to Seattle to stay with me for a couple of days after it happened. Held my firstborn in her arms the entire time like he was the baby she’d never have. She’d almost given up hope, and then finally, after sixteen years of trying, Em got pregnant and was able to carry Lorelei to term.”
Katelyn met my gaze with a determined set to her jaw. “Em loved being a mom. Said it was the job she was born to do. So, there is just no way that she would have killed herself.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you. I’ll make sure that gets into the report.”
Somehow, someway, because Emmy Lee Barstow’s death was looking less and less like a suicide.