Crabapples sat on Main Street, occupying a storefront that would’ve looked at home in Deadwood with a high false front to make it look impressive and a crusty wooden cornice and door. The picture window proclaimed it to be the only vegan restaurant within fifty miles. Shocking.
Fats parked in front and said, “It looks fantastic.”
“It looks like we should be wearing holsters and ready to kick some butt at a drop of the Stetson.”
“I am.”
“They don’t allow dogs,” I said, not knowing what the dog policy was. If you advertise cauliflower steaks as better than beef on your sandwich board, who knows what you believe about dogs.
She whipped open the back door and said, “I don’t know why you even try that anymore.”
“Desperate?”
“I was going with stupid, but okay.”
“Hey!”
“You’ve eaten with Moe at California Pizza Kitchen next to a table with cops and health inspectors, why would you ever bring up anyone’s dog policy?”
“I have a head injury.”
“How long are you going to use that?”
“Until the next head injury,” I said as I reluctantly got out. Pick climbed over my seat to jump out my door and clamped his jaws on my ankle, chewing like a nut.
“What’s he doing?” Fats asked with her weirdo tucked under her arm and, for once, Moe looked like the superior animal.
“He chews on me sometimes.”
She snapped her fingers. “Stop that.”
Pick jerked away and sat. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was embarrassed.
“I think you missed your calling,” I said.
“My calling is—” She dashed into Crabapples, banging the door so hard I was afraid she cracked the glass.
It was now ten thirty, but there was a decent crowd, sipping soy lattes in front of laptops and stacks of books and folders. Everyone looked up as Fats frantically scanned the restaurant.
“Bathroom?” I called out. “It’s an emergency!”
A woman with a Karen haircut pointed at a hall in the back and Fats shoved Moe in my arms before barreling through tables and spilling more than a few lattes. A door slammed and I took a breath.
“She’s pregnant and having some wicked morning sickness. Sorry about that,” I said to the room. Everyone nodded in sympathy and started mopping up the mess.
The haircut came over and said, “You can’t have dogs in here.”
“They’re service animals,” I said. “I have the vests and paperwork in the truck, if you need it.”
“Well…”
Please don’t ask to see the nonexistent paperwork.
“She’s just so sick and she loves vegan food, I didn’t grab it,” I said quickly.
She looked me over, recognizing me easily and threw up her hands. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just put you in the back.”
We walked to a back booth and she leaned over to me, “Besides, I’m afraid your friend might pound me if I say no.”
“She gets that a lot.” I put Pick on my side and Moe on Fats.
“Morning sickness is rough. Are you eating? We’re starting lunch.”
“She’ll try.”
“We have an amazing alfredo with cashew cream and lots of Meyer lemon and ginger. A bunch of our pregos swear by it for the nausea.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
“You’re not vegan, are you? I can always tell.”
“Not even close.”
She leaned over. “Me, either, but Yuki does a mushroom burger with Asian slaw that’ll knock your socks off.”
“Let’s knock off the socks then,” I said. “Actually, we’re also looking for someone. Is Karen here?”
Her smile melted. “Is it the hair? Everyone assumes I’m Karen.” She patted her asymmetrical blonde bob.
“I’m not assuming.” I kinda was. “I was told she was working and open to being interviewed for the Thooft case.”
“That’s you? I thought you were…”
“The victim?”
She sat down next to Moe and typed in our order on her electronic thingamajiggy. “I didn’t think you’d be investigating. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Very, but that’s how I roll,” I said. “Are you Karen?”
Say no.
“Yes,” she said.
Fifty bucks down the drain.
“Do you mind answering some questions about Anton?” I asked.
“Not a bit.” Karen was touching her bob again. “Do you think I should change my hair? I got yelled at this morning at Schnucks. I didn’t say anything to anybody.”
She was such a Karen. The right age. The right makeup. “I have to say I would.”
Karen sighed. “My husband offered to pay me to change it. I guess I will.”
Fats came out of the bathroom and lurched over. Karen barely got out of the way as she fell into the booth. I’m surprised nobody yelled, “Timber!” It was that kind of slow fall.
“I’ve got a ginger spritzer,” said Karen. “How about that?”
Fats gulped and nodded. Karen headed off into the back and returned immediately with two ginger spritzers. They had decorative orange and lemon slices with paper umbrellas.
“I brought you one, too, since head injuries have nausea, don’t they?”
“They do.” I took a sip. “That’s really good.”
Fats took a fearful sip and said, “Oh, thank God.”
“What was it this time?”
“I got out of the truck too fast.”
Karen and I winced, waiting to say anything else until she got a little more down.
“So this is Karen,” I said.
A smile flickered on Fats’ lips, but she continued to clutch her spritzer. Karen pulled up a chair and asked, “What do you want to know?”
“About Anton, your relationship with him, his demeanor, anything.”
“Let me just say that I know he did it, but the Anton I know couldn’t have. Never in a million years.”
“That’s what we’re hearing from pretty much everyone,” I said. “You never saw him be violent or angry with women?”
“Never. He was so sweet. He looked after me. Anton vetted my boyfriends. A couple weren’t very nice and he told them off.” She got out her phone and showed us pictures from Anton’s last visit home. I’d seen plenty of pictures out at the farm, but somehow Karen’s pictures were different. It was a Christmas party and there Anton was, smiling and holding up a beer, arms around Karen and other ladies. In one shot, Karen and another lady were kissing Anton’s cheeks as he beamed with happiness. I had to look away. I couldn’t see that face anymore. He came at me. His hand on my face, pressing that sopping cloth over my airways. How was that the same guy?
Pick pressed against me and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. I put my arm around him and let his heartbeat soothe me.
“I’m sorry,” said Karen, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought it would help you understand where I’m coming from.”
“It does,” I said. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”
Fats finished her Spritzer and gave Moe a scratch saying, “Let me see those again.”
Karen gave her the phone and Fats flipped through the photos shaking her head. “It’s almost like we’re tracking the wrong dude.”
“I know you’re not, but that’s what I’m saying,” said Karen. “Anton was great with women. If he had a problem, I would’ve known.”
You didn’t know something.
“Think back,” I said. “Was there anything, even in high school?”
She smiled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, careful not to dislodge the heavy eyeliner. “Absolutely nothing. Anton was always popular with the ladies.” Her smile turned coquettish. “Half my friends were in love with him.”
“Were they?” Fats had a wry twist to her lips and Karen frowned slightly.
“Yes,” she said, firmly, “and he was pretty into them, too.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of my voice and failing.
“You know!” she exclaimed and I think she surprised herself with the ferocity of her own words.
I’d promised Kimberly so I merely said, “What do I know?”
“You know and now you know that I know, but nobody else knows, so we should stay quiet about what we know.”
“Well, that’s clear as mud,” said Fats. “How about you order me another spritzer to wash it clean?”
Karen put in the order and gathered her thoughts before saying, “I should’ve known you’d figure it out. I mean it’s what you do.”
“What did I figure out?” I asked.
She leaned over, looked around, and whispered, “That Anton was gay.”
“Well, that wasn’t hard at all.”
“Yes, it was. Nobody knows. How did you figure out?”
“I’d like to think I’d have put it together, but I was actually told,” I said.
“You’re saying…somebody else does know?”
Fats and I exchanged a look and she lifted a shoulder. I felt weird about letting Kimberly’s secret out but couldn’t think why I shouldn’t.
“Kimberly told her,” said Fats, taking that decision right off my plate and I was grateful.
“Thanks,” I said.
“And thank you for my fifty bucks.”
“Fifty bucks?” asked Karen. “Were you betting on whether I knew or not?”
“Nope. Not that,” I said. “You didn’t know that Kimberly knew?”
“No. I can’t believe it. Anton told me I was the only one he could trust.”
I wonder what else he lied about.
“Did Laurie know?” I asked.
Karen laughed. “Absolutely not. She was completely in love with him.”
Her order thingy dinged and she dashed into the back to get our lunches and Fats said, “How much do you want to bet that Laurie knew?”
“The farm.”
“This has got to be the worst kept secret in St. Seb.”
“Or the best,” I said.
She gave me the side eye as Karen came out with a laden tray. I have to admit the burger looked and smelled fantastic. Fats’ cashew pasta thing was a little on the green side for me, but she took a bite and groaned with pleasure. “I think I can keep it down.”
Karen didn’t look thrilled, but I said, “High praise, trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Is there anything else you want to know about Anton? I can’t think of anything that would make this thing he did make sense.”
I glanced around at the other diners. “Anybody else here know him?”
“I’ll call my manager,” said Karen.
I stifled a laugh and Fats gagged on a noodle.
“What? She knew Anton. He took a painting class with her, I think.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m amazed at how many people knew him.”
“Well, Whiskey Ridge is tiny. The only restaurant they have is Subway.” She made a face. “Everyone comes into St. Seb for everything.”
We nodded and she went into the back.
“So you owe me fifty,” I said.
“Does that count?” Fats asked.
“Did Karen say she was going to call the manager?”
Fats gritted her teeth and the muscles in her cheek rippled. “She did. I cannot believe I lost that bet.”
“Now we’re even. You know, sometimes I’m right,” I said.
“Eh.”
“I am.”
“Mercy!” a voice rang out across the restaurant and I nearly dropped my burger. Carrie Norton ran across the room, wearing an astonishing outfit of a holey black crocheted floor-length dress with green pleather unitard underneath and a pair of cowboy boots topped off with her curly purple hair in pigtails. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. I’d met Carrie on my last trip to St. Seb and she never failed to make an impression. “I’m so glad to see you two. How are you, Mercy?”
“Fine. Well, mostly fine.”
Carrie plopped down in Karen’s seat. “Well, I don’t believe that for minute. How could you be?”
“It’s what I’m supposed to say,” I said.
“Not to me,” she said with conviction. “With me you can always say the absolute truth.”
Let’s see about that.
“I’m investigating Anton Thooft.”
“I know. Karen told me. Excellent idea in my opinion.”
Fats’ eyebrows shot up and I gagged on a marinated cucumber slice. “Really?”
“Of course, who would investigate him like you? No one, that’s who. It’s not just a job, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” I said, swallowing hard. “So you knew him?”
“I did and quite well in fact,” she said conspiratorially.
I picked up my burger and asked, “Did you see this coming?”
She waved that idea away with both hands. “No. I would’ve said it was impossible. It wasn’t in him.”
“It was,” said Fats rather harshly.
Carrie nodded and her pigtails bounced around wildly. “I know, but I’m telling you right now something terrible must’ve happened to make Anton do that to you.”
I took a bite and the burger did knock off the socks. Not meat, but dang good. “The cops think he was going to rape and murder me.”
“I can’t speak to the murder thing, but rape? Nope. Would never happen.”
Fats and I hid our smiles behind our food and waited for the inevitable as Carrie lowered her voice and looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Anton was gay.”
“We know,” I said.
She jerked back astonished. “You know? How?”
We went through the Kimberly revelation and Carrie reacted with suitable shock and I said, “I’m more interested in how you knew.”
She laughed and stole a fry off my plate. “Look at me. Do you seriously think I don’t know a gay man when I see one?”
“You never know.”
“Well, I guess that’s true, given recent events in my fair town, but I did know. It wasn’t hard to put together. Plus, a friend of mine knows Jamie, they dated for years.”
My ears perked up. This was the first boyfriend, someone who reasonably knew Anton better than anyone. “Jamie who?”
“Jamie Koplar. He works at Black Heart Books down in your neck of the woods.”
A St. Louis connection!
“So did Anton know the Central West End?” I asked.
“Sure. He and Jamie still talked. It wasn’t a bad breakup, just sad.”
“Why sad?” Fats asked.
Carrie sighed and told us how Jamie and Anton really loved each other, but after they graduated from college, Jamie was ready to come out. He wanted to live together as a real couple, buy a house, and have a family. Anton wouldn’t do it. He downright refused to even contemplate cracking open the closet door. Jamie came out and broke up with Anton, who took a teaching job in Wentzville where no one knew them, continuing on as a straight man who hadn’t found the right girl yet.
“My friend said it broke Jamie’s heart,” said Carrie. “But in a way he understood with the Thoofts being how they are.”
Fats polished off her pasta and asked, “How are they?”
“Very religious. Evangelical. Didn’t you know that?”
“I did,” I said. “But how did they never figure it out? It sounds pretty obvious.”
Carrie shrugged. “They saw what they wanted to see and Anton put on a good show.”
“How? I thought he didn’t date women.”
“Oh, he didn’t, but in high school he always had a date for Homecoming, Prom, Sadie Hawkins. They just never went anywhere.”
“What did he say to you about it, being gay and his family?”
“Nothing. Nobody knew and I couldn’t tell anyone. Top secret.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Fats looked doubtful and I have to admit I was, too.
“Well, Yuki knows,” she said. “But he’s my husband. I couldn’t lie to him when he asked.”
“Yuki asked?”
She laughed and stole another fry. “Come on, Mercy. A man in his fifties, never married, never lived with a woman, paints, enjoys ballroom dance, and adores his mother? Come on.”
“I see your point,” I said. “Do you think staying in the closet was about Ann?”
“Yes, yes, and more yes. He was devoted to her. Last time he was home, last Christmas, he came in for a painting class with her and Kimberly. They were quite the trio. Very close. Did everything together.”
Just those three.
“It’s a big family,” I said. “We just came from the farm. They all seemed very close.”
“They are and nice people, too, but Ann, Kimberly, and Anton, they were kind of their own unit.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?” Fats asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Carrie asked. “Gay men love their mothers. It’s a thing.”
It was a thing, a stereotype, but for a reason. The gay men I knew did love their mothers a lot, but none of them were lying to their mothers. Carrie was describing a trio where everybody was lying to each other. Well, Kimberly and Anton were lying to Ann. He was lying to Kimberly about nobody else knowing his status. What was Ann lying about? Did Kimberly lie to Anton? Dad always said that lies were like cockroaches. If you find one, you can bet there are ten more you haven’t found yet. This was the tip of the iceberg. I had a feeling.
“I don’t know yet, but I think we’re on to something,” I said.
“Like what?” Carrie asked. “So he was in the closet? So what?”
“He was going to Incel websites.”
Carrie crossed her arms. “No.”
“The cops found evidence,” said Fats. “Rape, kidnapping threads.”
“I don’t care what they found. Anton did not look at that stuff.”
“What do you think he was planning on doing with Mercy after he got her in that trunk?” Fats wasn’t angry. She was thinking, calculating. I could see it on her face. She knew criminals. Heck, she was one and her experience was going to work for me.
“He wasn’t going to rape her,” said Carrie. “I would bet my life on it.”
Fats tilted her head. “Would you bet your daughter’s life though?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. None.
“Alright,” I said. “I believe you.”
“Good. Because the sooner you get off that hating women BS the better.”
“There had to be a reason.”
Carrie stood up. “Unless he had a psychotic break, I can’t think of anything that would make him do that.”
“I think we can rule out psychotic break,” I said.
“What’s left?”
“Money,” said Fats. “And love.”
“Speaking of money,” said Carrie. “Lunch is on the house.”
We thanked her and finished. When we got up to leave, Karen came out with treat bags for the dogs and a to go cup with another spritzer for Fats’ stomach.
Snow was beginning to fall as we stepped out into the increasing cold. After loading the dogs, they got treats and Fats asked, “Where to now?”
“Let’s see if Tank Tancredi is in at the Sentinel,” I said.
“He probably knows Anton was gay, too.”
“Probably.”
She fired up the truck and eased into the noontime traffic, which was considerable for such a small town. “Want to let me in on how Anton’s sexual orientation was a best kept secret? We’ve got four people so far that knew and you’re barely trying.”
“It’s about what they believed about someone they knew well. Three people, not counting Yuki, that knew, didn’t tell, and believed completely that only they could be trusted. Think of how convincing Anton had to be, how secretive, how manipulative. If we keep going, we’ll find more and they’ll all be the same. Who does that? How does it start?”
“Some people compartmentalize their lives,” said Fats. “I had a boyfriend like that. He acted like his childhood was on lockdown. I couldn’t get near it. His family never knew about me. I showed up at his work once and they were shocked. Everyone thought he was gay because he wouldn’t say anything about anything.”
“Did you ever find out why?” I asked.
“No, I dumped him. I’m either in your life, all your life, or I’m out,” she said, popping out a toothpick and splintering it to bits. “I didn’t know that guy. I was sleeping with him, but I didn’t know him. He didn’t want me to.”
“I wonder how well they really knew Anton.”
“I don’t think they knew him at all,” said Fats.
I zipped up my coat and wrapped my arms around myself. “And when we find out why, we’ll know why I ended up in that trunk.”