Chapter 13
We find Richmond sitting at his desk and happy to help—he and Hurley typically work as a team these days anyway—and half an hour later we are all up to speed on the various aspects of the investigation.
Richmond informs us that Jonas and Laura are going through the contents of Lars’s office and that, unfortunately, the crew we left behind in the woods this morning didn’t find any useful trace evidence, nor did they find anyone in the wooded area who might have been a witness.
“There were people out there, though,” he says. “There are still patches of snow on the ground in some places, and they were able to see footprints. They did some photos and casts of them, but Junior said they weren’t very clear and he doesn’t think they’ll be much help.”
Hurley tells Richmond about our conversation with George Haas and suggests that Richmond compare the footprints to Haas’s shoes. “It’s unlikely the guy could have shot the arrow given his hand limitations, but we know he was out there and he might have had an accomplice. While you’re at it, we should also have them look for ATV tracks,” Hurley adds. “Haas said he heard one off in the distance. Don’t know if it’s at all significant, but we should probably check it out.”
Richmond looks out the window of his office and frowns. “It’s almost dark so we might have to let that one wait until morning. And in case you didn’t already guess this from my silence on the matter, our search of Morton’s house didn’t turn up anything either. No bows, no arrows, not so much as a piece of hay. So far we’re scoring a big fat zero on this one.”
“Maybe something will pan out with the girlfriends,” Hurley says, offering up his notebook so Richmond can copy down the names, addresses, and phone numbers. “We had a chat with Kirsten Donaldson already because she made a surprise visit to Lars’s house while we were there.” He then fills Richmond in on what we learned from and about Kirsten, finishing with “We should check around with her neighbors to see if anyone can verify that she was home this morning. And her ex-husband, Brad, is a potential suspect, too. Sounds like he has a jealous streak, and if he’s still carrying a torch for Kirsten, he might have wanted Sanderson dead.”
“Kirsten herself might be worth another chat at some point,” I add, “if for no other reason than just to see if she has a cat.” We then fill Richmond in on the cat hair evidence and spend a few minutes discussing the evidentiary worth—or lack thereof—of the find.
We then place a call to Jonas and ask him if he has anything more for us. As we listen on speakerphone, he tells us that he ran the plates of the other vehicles that were parked out along the road by Cooper’s Woods, and he gives us the names of the registered owners. “I also ran the calls on the cell phone we found in Sanderson’s pocket,” Jonas says. “He had several calls yesterday, the last one around nine o’clock last night from a Harry Olsen. But no calls in or out today. The other calls were all initiated by Sanderson and appear to be work related. One was to the mayor yesterday morning, another was to a guy named Chuck Obermeyer. He’s a local contractor. The other two calls were to lumber supply companies. I’ll send you up a report on the calls in a bit. I’m getting ready to take a closer look at Sanderson’s car and I’ve got some guys going through those files we retrieved from Sanderson’s offices. If anything else comes up I’ll let you know.”
Hurley tells Jonas to call Richmond with the updates for now, thanks him, and disconnects the call. Then he points to one of the names he has written in his notebook. “Lars was supposed to meet this Chuck Obermeyer for dinner at six tonight at Pesto Change-o,” he tells Richmond. “Here’s his contact info. You should probably talk to him if for no other reason than to rule him out.” Richmond nods and dutifully copies down the info. “I appreciate you helping out with this,” Hurley says when Richmond is done and hands him back his notebook. “I have to go, but keep me posted.”
“Will do. And good luck.”
After Hurley assures me he’ll call me later to let me know what’s going on, he heads out.
Richmond looks at me and says, “He seems pretty worked up about Emily this time. What’s different?”
Richmond is a shrewd judge of character and he’s got a real talent for reading people. He doesn’t miss much. “It’s his gut. He says Emily always contacts him in some way shortly after one of her disappearing acts, but this time she hasn’t. He has a feeling something is wrong.”
“If Hurley has a gut feeling, he’s usually right. Hope the kid is okay.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“So it looks like we need to track down Lars’s girlfriends and talk to them.” He glances at his watch. “It’s going on five already. How late can you work today?”
“I have an appointment to get my hair done at seven tonight. Dom is staying with Matthew for the evening, so I’m good to go until six forty-five or so.”
“Okay, then, let’s start with . . .” Richmond consults the names he copied out of Hurley’s notebook. “Why don’t we call them first and see where they are?” he says. “It’s that time of day when some people might be getting off work, especially with Thanksgiving right around the corner. Plus, with Christmas coming, people are going to be sneaking out of work early so they can go shopping. Let me see who’s available for us to talk to.”
Christmas. Normally it’s a holiday I dread. I hate shopping. I hate trying to come up with gift ideas for people who don’t want or need anything. I’m not into all that decorating stuff, either, though I usually cave enough to buy a tree and string a few lights on it, typically getting one of those ugly Charlie Brown trees that no one else will want.
But this year is different. Now I have Matthew. Granted, he’s too young to understand or comprehend much, but his presence has imbued me with a new interest in the holiday. Unfortunately, his presence has also left me with much less free time for things like shopping, tree hunting, and decorating. But once again Amazon has come to the rescue. Not only have I been able to whittle down my gift list already, I also bought a Christmas tree and all the trimmings to go with it. My sister, Desi, is hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year and all I’m supposed to bring is dessert. I’ve arranged to have a cheesecake and a pumpkin pie made for me by one of our local restaurants, Dairy Airs. But I wouldn’t be surprised to find that I can order an entire Thanksgiving meal from Amazon and have it delivered right to my door. Online shopping has definitely lessened my holiday pressures.
Speaking of pressure, I need to go and pump, so I leave Richmond to make the calls and head over to my office to do the deed. I poke my head into Izzy’s office before I head back out and update him on what we’ve done and learned so far, and what we’re doing next. Then I tell him about Emily.
“Hurley is really worried about her, much more so than I’ve ever seen before.”
“Let’s hope he’s wrong,” Izzy says. He frowns and shakes his head. “It’s situations like this one that make me think the idea of having kids isn’t a good one.”
“No one ever said raising kids is kicks and giggles all the time, though I do think the pluses outweigh the minuses. And keep in mind, this situation with Emily is a unique one. That poor kid has been through a lot lately. Hell, I’d be more surprised if she wasn’t acting out.”
“I’m guessing it isn’t helping your situation with Hurley much.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Not that I can think of, but thanks for asking.” I start to leave, but then turn back. “By the way, did Dom tell you he’s keeping Matthew for me until around nine o’clock tonight so I can go and get my hair done?”
“He did.”
“Is that okay?”
Izzy smiles. “It is, and may I also say it’s for a very worthy cause.”
“Yeah, I’m really overdue,” I say, grimacing and running a hand over the still-stiff strands of hair. “Thanks, and I’ll see you later.”
By the time I return to the police station, Richmond has our agenda laid out. We’re going now to chat with one of Lars’s girlfriends, a woman named Cynthia Parker. The other one, Bridget Rutherford, is going to come into the station in the morning.
“By the time we’re done talking to Cynthia Parker we can head to Pesto Change-o,” Richmond says. “You want to ride with me?”
“Normally I’d say yes, but given what’s going on with Emily, would you mind if I took my own car? I’d like to be able to leave if I need to.”
“I don’t mind, but you might want to park it out of sight for our first stop. Cynthia Parker works at that new Serenity Spa that just opened up over on the east side of town. I’m thinking they might frown on the idea of having a hearse parked in their lot.”
I nod my understanding. My midnight blue, slightly used hearse was the only vehicle I could afford when I bought it and I was desperate for some wheels. I thought it would be temporary, but I’ve grown to love the thing. It’s roomy, it drives like a dream, my dog, Hoover, loves all the smells in it, and when I was being stalked by a crazed killer a few months back, Hurley had the thing pimped out like the Popemobile with bulletproof glass and reinforced body panels. It’s my safe house. But I understand Richmond’s reservations. A hearse might imply a bit more serenity than most spa clients are looking for.
Richmond says, “I left a message for this Chuck Obermeyer. If he doesn’t call back by five forty-five, we can head to Pesto Change-o and catch him there.”
“I wouldn’t mind going to Pesto either way,” I say, rubbing my tummy. “I’m getting hungry and Italian is my favorite food group.”
“Mine, too,” Richmond says with a dreamy smile. He and I are both foodies at heart. “Though I’ll probably have to do two extra circuits at the gym to make up for whatever I eat there.”
“I have to say, Richmond, I really respect how dedicated you are to your new healthy lifestyle. All your hard work is really paying off. You look fantastic.”
“I feel fantastic,” he says. “Frankly, that’s more motivation for me than how I look.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, giving him a sly smile. “The rumor mill has it that you’re getting hot and heavy with a certain divorcee we both know.”
Richmond blushes. The divorcee in question is one Rose Carpenter, someone we met during an investigation we conducted last September. “We’re taking it slow,” he says. “Or at least I am. She keeps pushing and I keep putting on the brakes.”
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
“It’s not fear, it’s more . . . I don’t know . . . reluctance I suppose. I’ve never really had a serious, long-term relationship with a woman, and while there are certain perks to being half of a couple, I’ve been on my own for so long that I don’t know if I want to change that.”
“And Rose is pushing for the change?”
He nods and rolls his eyes.
“Have you slept with her yet?”
Richmond’s blush deepens and he looks away. “Not yet,” he says. “Though it’s not due to a lack of effort on her part.”
“What’s holding you back?”
He looks at his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not . . . I haven’t . . . I don’t have a lot of experience.” Richmond is so red now, his face could work as a police light on his car. “It’s been twenty years,” he says.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he says with a snort of derision. “And I wasn’t exactly a lothario prior to that, if you get my drift.”
“I do. And let me tell you, these days that’s a very attractive trait in a man.” Richmond looks at me like he thinks I’m crazy. “I’m serious, Bob. Rose is an experienced woman who knows what she wants. And I’m betting she, like most women out there, would jump at the chance to train a man the way she wants it done. If you confide in her what you just told me, and ask her to help you learn how to make her happy, you will make her very, very happy.”
Richmond doesn’t look convinced.
“Trust me on this one,” I say. “And in the meantime, let’s get a move on. I want to get these interviews done and hit up Pesto Change-o. My stomach is growling, and time is a wasting.” I can practically taste the garlic already.
Richmond gives me the address for the Serenity Spa, and after telling me he’ll meet me there, I walk back to my office to fetch my car and head out. It’s not a long drive—nothing in Sorenson is much more than ten minutes away—and during the trip I think about Emily, Hurley, Matthew, and me, and my stupid shattered dream of living happily ever after. I plotted out all sorts of imaginary courses for my life when I was younger, but none of them came close to the harsh reality that is my life at the moment. While I couldn’t be happier about having Matthew, or the fact that Hurley is his father, our current living situation is beyond frustrating.
I wonder if Amazon sells happily ever afters.