We parked in front of Natalie’s building on Patch Barracks and it wasn’t at all what I expected. Natalie was a captain, so I thought rank had some privileges, but apparently not. The stairwell housing was basic and charmless with uncovered parking and clusters of barbecues between buildings. Grandma said base housing was the pits and while it wasn’t a pit I doubted people were clamoring to live there.
“This looks familiar,” said Moe.
Grandma laughed. “The military never changes.”
Natalie came over from her car and we got out. She wasn’t what I expected either. Chuck described her as tough, so I pictured tough. To me, Fats Licata was tough. Natalie Ratliff was not. The Air Force officer was five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had dark auburn hair, green eyes and a face full of freckles. Natalie was somewhere between an imp and an elf and totally adorable. The tough was hard to get. Maybe she was a sniper, too. Apparently, size wasn’t a requirement for that.
“Did I tell you how glad I am to meet you?” she asked.
“Yes, you did.”
“Well, I am.” Natalie took my arm. “Will you introduce me? I’m so nervous.”
“About what?”
“Aaron. I hope he likes my kitchen. I cleaned it. Twice. It’s not big. Better than off post, but basic. An electric stove. He probably hates electric. I have an Instant Pot. Does he use those? Am I talking too fast? I do that.”
“Breathe,” I said. “It’s Aaron.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” She was serious. Dead serious.
I turned around to look at the man who was causing all the fuss, just to make sure she wasn’t thinking of someone else. She wasn’t. She was looking right at Aaron with his favorite stonewashed jeans, six inches too long, half his hair sticking up and the other slicked down, possibly with butter, and a Star Trek jacket complete with emblem.
“If he doesn’t, you’ll never be able to tell,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Aaron likes food. Do you have food?”
“I have food, but what if it’s not the right food? He’s gourmet,” said Natalie.
“He loves hot dogs and those horrible snowball snack cakes. You’re good.”
She took a breath and I introduced her to what I could only assume was her cooking idol.
“Aaron, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is Aaron.”
“Hi,” she said.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Where’s the kitchen?”
That was it. She told him which apartment and he trotted inside without waiting. Natalie dashed after him and I dashed after her.
“Don’t panic,” I said. “He’ll make something great.”
“I should show him the lay of the land.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s a kitchen savant.”
When we got up to the second floor, Aaron was already in the kitchen. He had eighteen ingredients on the counter and a kettle on.
“What’s he going to make?” Natalie whispered.
“It’s a mystery,” I said, holding out a bottle. “Let’s have wine.”
Moe pulled the cork and Natalie told us her husband Luke was deployed at the moment and introduced us to her boys. The older two were stepsons and full of acne and angst. The youngest was the spitting image of Natalie, freckles and all.
“Whoa,” said the oldest, Daniel. “You really do look like Marilyn Monroe.”
“And you look like a freshman,” I said.
Daniel was taken aback. “Why?”
“Can I interview you?”
He looked at his stepmother and she grinned. “I guess you’re part of the investigation.”
The poor kid started fidgeting with his tee shirt and said, “You mean the stuff with Mr. Thooft? I don’t know anything about that. I wasn’t in his class or anything.”
Natalie sent the other two off to play video games. That got a cheer. Video games before dinner was a serious treat. Moe asked what they had and they named some first-person shooter game, so Moe volunteered to supervise, i.e. kick some video villain butt. Grandma decided to help Aaron and we went into the living room with Daniel who would rather have shot aliens any day of the week.
I told Natalie and Daniel what I was doing and why. The more I talked the more nervous Daniel got. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Kids get nervous. Getting in trouble is so easy and can come out of nowhere.
“Have you heard the rumors?”
“Everybody has, but I don’t know if it’s true,” said Daniel.
“Did you ever hear anything bad about Mr. Thooft before he died?” I asked.
“No, not at all. He was great. Everybody wanted to be in his classes.”
“Was he especially close to anyone?”
Daniel pulled back and frowned. “No. I don’t know. He was a teacher.”
Too pointed.
“I meant, did you see him with anyone in particular, a teacher or a student?”
The boy shrugged.
Natalie put her arm around her son. “Come on. He was a student council sponsor. You saw him every week.”
“He was like really tight with the seniors and some juniors. I’m just a freshman. I barely knew him.”
“Who’s on student council?”
Daniel named some names and Natalie asked, “You don’t think some kids are mixed up with this, do you?”
I smiled and said, “I’m following a lead.”
“What’s the lead?”
“The comment about Mr. Thooft being seen with kids outside school in a café next to hotels.”
“Oh, I heard that,” said Daniel.
I crossed my fingers and asked, “Who was seen with him?”
“I don’t know. People were just saying it.”
Dammit.
“Who did you hear saying it, Daniel?” Natalie asked. “Who was spreading the rumor?”
“Everyone was talking about it. They said Mr. Thooft was a freak and on those Incel sites. He was a stalker or something.”
I leaned forward and looked into Daniel’s eyes. “He wasn’t any of those things. He was being blackmailed and I think it might have something to do with those rumors.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“There’s a chance that someone saw someone with Mr. Thooft and I want to know who that was.”
“But he was a teacher,” said Natalie. “He saw kids all the time.”
“But this café thing was unusual or at least someone thought it was. I have to follow up.” I looked back at Daniel. “Who did you hear saying it?”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” he said.
“You didn’t tell me anything.” I crossed my heart.
“I heard Sergio Tarantina say it. He’s on student council.”
Daniel described the student council’s emergency meeting that was held right after Anton Thooft was shot. Everyone was in an uproar and trying to decide what to do. A teacher was dead and a moment of silence seemed appropriate, but he was a kidnapper. Before the meeting started when everyone was arriving, Sergio was telling people that he always knew Mr. Thooft was a freak and that he hung out with kids in cafés next to hotels. He made it sound like Anton was going into a hotel with a student, but he didn’t name any names, and then the meeting started. After that, the whole school knew and then the 4chan stuff broke on the news. It was crazy after that.
“Sergio talking about the café thing, that was the first time you heard it?” I asked.
“Yeah, but my friend Jordan already knew about it when I tried to tell him and he’s not on student council,” said Daniel.
“Is Jordan a freshman, too?”
“Sophomore. He was in Mr. Thooft’s seminar so he knew him better than me.”
“Who told Jordan?” Natalie asked.
Daniel shrugged.
“Can you ask him?” I asked.
He tried to wriggle out of it and I understood. Nobody wants to be the one who pointed the finger.
“It’s about who blackmailed Mr. Thooft,” I said. “It wasn’t his idea to hurt me. I deserve to know who’s it was.”
Daniel sunk back into the sofa, looking as though he’d like to sink inside the cushions. “Does it matter? He’s dead.”
“They aren’t,” I said. “Mr. Thooft died and they’re just walking around like they had nothing to do with his death. It’s not right. His sister wants to know who did this to him and me.”
“The adopted sister?” Natalie asked.
“Yes. She needs to find out. She loved him very much.”
Natalie got up and found Daniel’s phone, tossing it in his lap. “Call Jordan.”
“If Dad were here—”
“He’s not here. I’m here. I’m always here.” Natalie stood there, hands on hips and I saw the tough. That boy could not take her, even though he outweighed her by fifty pounds. “Call Jordan.”
Daniel called and the kid did a pretty good job of casually asking about the rumors. He used me. “My mom knows Mercy Watts.” “Do you think Mr. Thooft was really a freak?” That kind of thing. When he got off the phone, he said, “He heard it in pre-calc. Alison Fodor said it before class to her friend, Cameron.”
“Who was seen in the café?” I asked.
“She just said it happened.”
Natalie eyed her son. “That’s not enough. Call him back. Ask again.”
“No way. He was getting funny,” said Daniel. “I could tell.”
“It’s fine.” I leaned back and looked at the ceiling. So frustrating. It could be nothing. If the plants on Anton’s laptop came out of Berlin, I could be eating crab and Chuck wouldn’t clean a bathroom, probably ever.
“I hope I’m not barking up the wrong tree,” I said.
“Was there anything else?” Natalie asked.
“Just that it was in Sindelfingen,” said Daniel.
I sat bolt upright. “What was that?”
“Jordan said that Alison said the café was in Sindelfingen.”
Ding. Ding. Ding.
I held up a hand for a high-five. “Daniel, you are my favorite freshman.”
He blushed and asked, “Can I take a picture with you?”
“You can take twenty as long as you don’t post them until I’ve solved this.”
“Let’s not go overboard,” Natalie said. “I’ll take the pictures to keep them on the down-low.”
“My dad loves Double Black Diamond,” said Daniel. “Could you sign your cover?”
“Absolutely.”
I signed the album cover that Daniel’s dad had ordered in vinyl. He was an old-school rock fan. We took pictures and I showed him pictures of Mickey Stix and the gang. Daniel forgot all about high school allegiances and we ate well when Aaron brought out bulgogi, papaya salad, and these sweet little rice cakes made with a sticky syrup.
The boys were hesitant but loved the food. They loved Moe even more. He told them he was a sniper and started teaching them techniques for their games. He slayed apparently and the boys were very impressed.
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” said Natalie.
“That is a constant theme in my life,” I said.
“I don’t blame you. That attack just happened and here you are.”
“Somebody had to do it and the case is closed for the cops stateside.”
“What about the Polizei?” she asked.
I picked up another rice cake and said, “A crime committed by an American in America isn’t their problem.”
“But Thooft was here when he was blackmailed.”
“Yes, and there is an open investigation, but nobody cares very much. He was an American that’s now dead. They did interview everyone and search. Nothing turned up.”
“Where do you go from here?” Natalie asked.
“Sherri La Roche,” I said.
“Mrs. La Roche is freaking out,” said Daniel. “I think she quit teaching.”
“She didn’t quit,” said Natalie. “She took some sick time until Christmas break. They were close, she and Thooft, and it hit her hard.”
“Do you know her well?” I asked.
“Pretty well. We volunteer at the Thrift shop together sometimes. She’s a sweetheart.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
Natalie had taken over a casserole so Sherri wouldn’t have to cook and described Anton’s best friend as shattered and in denial. She said it was a mistake. He didn’t do it. Couldn’t be him. He’d been murdered. But a few days later, Natalie picked up her dish and Sherri had given in to the truth. The video from the surveillance cameras showing him heading for me and then driving away convinced her. Some jerk posted a picture taken of me while I was still in the trunk and that put the nail in the coffin so to speak. Sherri was close to hysterical and people had been pointing fingers on a local Facebook group. How didn’t she know? Was she in on it? Pretty horrible stuff.
“I’ve heard of no links to her,” I said.
“You’d know?” Natalie asked.
“I would. My guys have been all up in Anton’s communications. Nothing but normal friend stuff going on or we’d be all over it. I do need to talk to her.”
Natalie got up and grabbed a second bottle of wine. “Do you have to? She’s…really upset.”
“I understand, but she knew him best. I can’t ignore that.”
“If people find out, they’ll think she really did have information. That Incel stuff. People really think he was one.”
“They’re going to find out,” I said. “I won’t make it public, but things have a way of coming out. It’s just the way it is.”
“She’s very depressed. My lieutenant lives next door to her. He said they can hear her sobbing through the walls.”
“I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but,” a flash of anger went through me “I’m the one he knocked out and threw in a trunk. If I can deal, she can, too.”
“I…I…I’m so sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.” Natalie turned pink and her freckles stood out in sharp contrast.
I leaned back in my chair and threw back my wine.
“She’s still recovering from her head injury,” said Grandma. “It’s been difficult.”
“And there’s the arm,” said Moe. “Mercy gets to talk to whoever she wants.”
Natalie nodded. “I completely agree, but you might run into a problem with Sherri.”
“What’s that?” I asked, feeling my temperature go back down.
“Her husband. Crabby Keith.”
“Oh, yeah. Mr. McWilliams mentioned him. He won’t let me near her?”
Natalie opened the wine and poured me a generous glug. “I have no idea. He’s just crabby and doesn’t like people to come over. She wanted to hold a book club at the apartment once and he put a stop to that.”
“Dad didn’t want you to have your knitting group here,” Daniel pointed out.
“He’s super crabby when he’s on shift,” said Marcus, the middle son.
The five-year-old, Tommy, raised his hand. “He’s crabby when he has to do the dishes.”
“Dad hates dishes,” said Daniel.
“He’s crabbier when he has to clean,” said Marcus.
The boys went on to argue about their father’s least favorite things as Natalie watched with surprise. Like most parents, she seemed shocked that the kids knew the score. Mom was surprised that I kept track of how many birthdays and holidays that Dad missed because there was a case, like somehow I didn’t notice the empty Dad chair on Christmas morning. I’m not an idiot and neither were her kids.
“I’m getting that your husband might be crabby,” I said.
Natalie sighed and took a big gulp of wine. “Aren’t they all?”
“Ace isn’t crabby,” said Grandma. “Of course, I’ve barely seen him for fifty years, so I’m not sure I’d know.”
We looked at Moe, who laughed. “Women as a species decided I’m not the marrying kind.”
“What about Chuck?” Natalie asked. “He was never crabby with me, but people change.”
“Who’s Chuck?” Daniel asked.
“He’s Mercy’s boyfriend.”
“How do you know him?”
“We used to date and were engaged for a while before I met your dad,” said Natalie, offhandedly. “So is Chuck crabby?”
Used to date? Engaged?
“Uh…not usually,” I said.
“He was crabbier when The Blues were playing. Can’t interrupt hockey. Does he still watch hockey?”
My stomach twisted up into a knot. “He’s been working a lot.”
“Now baseball you can interrupt, but he still watched it. Football was somewhere between the two. It depended on the team. Luke doesn’t watch sports over here. We can’t get them in real-time.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s crabby,” said Daniel.
“Dad needs sports,” said Marcus.
“The Watts men don’t usually go in for sports,” said Grandma.
Moe got himself more wine. “But he’s not really a Watts, is he?”
“He’s not?” Daniel asked.
“He’s adopted,” said Natalie. “Mercy’s uncle adopted him when he married Chuck’s mother.”
“You’re cousins?” Marcus asked. “Gross.”
“We’re not blood-related,” I said. “Chuck’s mom was married to my uncle less than two years. She divorced him and married someone else pretty quick. Watts was Chuck’s third last name and he refused to change it when the next husband came along.”
“At least you were only cousins for a little while,” Moe said.
“Sixteen months,” said Grandma. “I could not stand that woman. I knew she’d divorce Rupert. She divorces everyone.”
“How many marriages is she on now?”
“Five?” Natalie asked me.
Somebody is pretty up to date.
I nodded and she got solemn. “He didn’t tell you about me, did he?”
“No, he did not,” I said.
Grandma sucked her lips and Moe made a grumbling sound like a roll of thunder.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” said Natalie quickly. “We only went out for a while.”
“Through all the sports seasons,” I said. “And got engaged.”
“Well, yes.”
“And he was enlisted and you were an officer, correct?”
“Dude,” said Marcus. “Can you do that?”
Natalie stood up and started clearing the table. Ah, the old mom trick for avoiding things. Start cleaning. “We weren’t in the same chain of command.”
My phone buzzed and it was Chuck. I wanted to bite the screen. The man sent me to his old girlfriend and didn’t tell me. Natalie was in the know and I wasn’t.
“That’s Sherri,” I said. “I’m going over.”
“Right now?” Grandma asked.
“No time like the present.”
“She’s okay?” Natalie asked doubtfully.
I composed a quick message to Sherri and pressed send. I hoped she was ready for a visit because I was in no mood to be put off. “I guess we’ll see.”
I got up and Moe did, too. “Alright. Here we go.”
“Here I go,” I said. “You stay here. The boys need more sniper lessons.”
The boys loudly concurred.
“I told Fats I’d watch your back,” he said. “Don’t even try to Fi—”
“We’re on an Army installation,” I said. “It doesn’t get much safer.”
Moe went to come around the table. “I’m sticking to the plan.”
Grandma grabbed his arm and said, “She’s fine, Moe. Let her do her job.”
“Janine,” he started to say, but she cut him off.
“Aaron’s got dessert, don’t you Aaron?” she asked.
On cue, Aaron bolted to his feet and trotted into the kitchen.
Moe took the hint and asked, “What is he making?”
“Some kind of fluffy Japanese pancake.”
Everyone got distracted by pancakes and I grabbed my coat. Grandma gave me an understanding nod as I bolted out the door. I don’t know where I was going, but I was going fast.
Sherri answered me after I had wandered around the housing area for ten minutes. She was polite but not enthusiastic. It took some back and forth to convince her that I didn’t blame her and I wasn’t coming over to yell. I did want to yell, just not at her. I was trying to talk to a reluctant Sherri and Chuck kept pinging me. I was right on the edge of sending him the middle finger emoji when Sherri gave in and sent directions to her apartment.
Five minutes later, I was in more stairwell housing on the other side of the post and knocking on a door that had an enormous Grinch Christmas wreath. It was adorable and I wondered if it was a kind of warning about the husband within.
The door opened a narrow five inches and a blond woman with eyes so swollen that she could barely see me through the slits looked out. “Hi.”
“I’m Mercy. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?” I asked.
“Okay.” She didn’t open the door and it was flipping freezing. I didn’t know thirty degrees could be so cold.
“Well, I wanted to ask about Anton’s demeanor before he flew to the States. Was he nervous? Did he say anything about what he was doing?”
“No.”
“Was he particularly close to any students?”
“No.”
“Were you aware of any financial issues that he had?”
“No.”
This is going well.
“Anton repeatedly took money out of an ATM in Sindelfingen. Were you ever with him when he did that?”
“No.”
Breathe. You’re not angry. You’re a detective, dammit.
“Did he spend much time in Sindelfingen?” I asked.
“No.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Sherri!” a man bellowed behind Sherri and she jumped a foot. “Open the damn door and let her in.”
“I can’t—”
Sherri didn’t get a choice. The door was wrenched out of her hand and thrown open to reveal a man so muscular and wide he probably had to turn sideways to get out the door.
“Come in, Miss Watts. Let’s get ’er done,” he said, waving me past his startled wife. “I’m Keith, by the way.”
Keith led me into a living room that was a carbon copy of Natalie’s. They even had the same curtains. I sat down and he turned off the TV. Sherri hovered by the door, wringing her hands and sniffing.
“How are you doing, Miss Watts?” Keith asked gruffly. “You look better.”
“Still getting headaches, but I’m a lot better. Thanks for asking.”
“No problem.” Keith looked at his wife.
Sherri took a step back and said, “I don’t think I can.”
Every muscle in Keith’s huge arms tensed. “You have been crying for two goddamn weeks. It didn’t happen to you. It happened to her. Stop crying, get in here, and answer her fucking questions.”
She shook her head. “I’m upset.”
“You’re upset? That asshole friend of yours knocked this girl out and threw her in a trunk and she’s not fucking crying. She just wants to ask you some questions.”
“Dr. Roberts said—”
“Dr. Roberts needs to pull his head out of his ass. You’re not the victim. You knew the guy for a year and he was a murderer.”
“Anton was not a murderer!”
“Oh, yeah? What do you think they were going to do with her? Take her to Euro Disney and buy her Mickey ears?”
“It’s Disneyland Paris!” yelled Sherri.
“That’s what you think is important?” Keith jolted to his feet. “I can’t do it. I have to…I have to leave.” He left, left without a coat and slamming the door so hard I’m surprised it stayed on the hinges.
Sherri and I stared at each other. She didn’t move. I didn’t move. I knew one thing. I wasn’t leaving.
“Can you—”
I cut her off. “No. Just sit down and suck it up. It won’t be a nightmare, I promise, and I know nightmares. You can trust me on that.”
Sherri came over, keeping as far from me as possible, like I might spit acid at her or something. “What do you want to know?”
“Let me tell you what I know first.” I ran down everything I had, putting particular emphasis on Anton being blackmailed and his attempt to forestall the inevitable. I made him sound innocent. He wasn’t. At some point, he chose protecting himself over me, but it didn’t matter. Sherri needed to hear how much he was a victim, so I told her that and it loosened her tongue. She told me everything about him and I have to admit he sounded pretty great. A fun guy to travel with. Great teacher. Interested in cooking. Anton Thooft was the closest friend Sherri had made in twenty years of military assignments. Her grief was real and I did feel for her. I really did, but I still needed information.
“Were there any students that he was particularly close to?” I asked.
“There were so many he helped with recommendation letters to colleges and with student council, but I never saw anyone as standing out.”
“Who did he spend the most time on?”
“That would be the AP Gov students. That’s a tough AP and he put in a tremendous amount of time with those kids.”
“Did he mention any names repeatedly?”
“You don’t really think one of our students was a part of this,” she said. “They’re kids. The biggest thing on their minds is getting into college.”
“I bring it up because of that rumor about Anton meeting a student at a café in Sindelfingen.”
Sherri thought the rumor was nuts. The only thing she knew him to do in Sindelfingen was to eat at the Greek restaurant there and occasionally hit the mall. I showed her the ATM he took money out of on my phone and she shook her head. “I’ve probably been by there. My hair salon is down the street, but I was never with Anton.”
“Do you know a student named Sergio Tarantina?” I asked.
“Sure. He’s a great kid. He’s in my class and I think he was in Anton’s AP Gov. I saw him in the study group when they were in the library. Why do you ask?”
“I heard that he was one of the first kids to start talking about the café rumor.”
“Really? Anton had no problems with him that I know of.”
“Do you know how I can get in touch with Sergio?” I asked.
“You can’t,” she said. “He’s gone.”
Crap on a cracker.
“He moved?”
“Oh, no,” said Sherri. “He’s in Austria skiing with his family. Sometimes people pull their kids out early at Christmas. They’re here for a limited time and it’s Europe after all. We were supposed to go to Norway next week, but I’m too upset. Keith’s not happy. He doesn’t understand.”
Before I could respond, Keith walked back in, panting and covered in sweat. “I’m sorry. I just had to take a breather.”
“By breather do you mean run six miles?” I asked.
“It’s how I do,” he said with a laugh.
“Keith loves to work out,” said Sherri, frowning.
Those two had issues and they weren’t all Anton.
“Sherri’s been helping me out,” I said.
“Good,” said Keith.
“What were your impressions of Anton?”
Keith glanced at his wife and then laid it out. “He was weird.”
“He was not weird,” protested Sherri.
Her husband rolled his eyes. “You didn’t notice because he knitted, liked The Real Housewives of whatever, and loved museums, but the guy was weird.”
The handwringing started again, and she said, “He was not.”
Keith went on to describe the Anton that I recognized, a guy that wouldn’t answer direct questions and was insanely private.
“Private isn’t a bad thing,” said Sherri.
“He was hiding things and someone found out.”
“I don’t think so.”
Keith threw up his hands again. “He was hiding his screwed-up family and God knows what else.”
“There was nothing else!”
“What about that café thing everyone’s talking about?”
Sherri stood up and burst into tears before running out. Keith put his head in his hands. “Sorry. I just keep losing my temper. I didn’t like him when he was alive. Now that he’s dead, I hate him.”
“Why didn’t you like him?” I asked. “Most people did. Actually, you’re the first person I’ve met that didn’t.”
Keith sat back and thought it over. “I’m a simple man. You take care of your family. You protect your country. You tell the truth. That’s it. You live your life with those things in mind, things work out.”
“So?”
“Anton Thooft was a liar and I’ve got a problem with a guy who lies to my wife, especially when she adores him.”
I had a pretty good idea of where this was going, but I asked, “What did he lie about?”
“Being gay,” he said. “He told my little sweetheart in there that it was some huge secret and that nobody knew. He made it out like she was so special that he could tell her. I didn’t get the big deal. He was gay. So what?”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He told other people, too.”
Keith shot a finger at me. “Bingo.”
“How many?”
“Two that I know of. Miss Watts, this is a small community. We know each other, especially if you live on post. Word gets around. I heard it from a friend of Anton’s that works at the gym. Kelly volunteers at Sister Margaret’s food pantry in downtown Stuttgart. Anton volunteered there, too. Anyway, she and Anton were tight. He pulled the same crap with her.”
I smiled. “She wasn’t very good with the secret.”
“It just slipped out. I mentioned that Sherri was going to Greece with Anton last summer for a week. I wasn’t thrilled. He was always going places with my wife. Anyway, Kelly just laughed and I guessed that she was in on it. After she confirmed, she swore me to secrecy.”
“But Sherri had already told you?”
“She did, but when I told her that Kelly knew she blew it off.”
“Who else did you hear it from?”
Keith went on to detail an interaction with a woman named Joanne in something called Outdoor Rec. She was tuning up his skis and they got to talking. Joanne knew Anton and had gone skiing with him several times. Her husband was the jealous type and didn’t want her going anymore. Keith told her Anton was gay, thinking that might help out the situation, but she knew. She’d also heard it from a coordinator at the USO.
“That guy had issues,” said Keith. “I was so sick of him. Anton this. Anton that. I might not be the greatest husband, but I don’t lie about who I am.” He spread his meaty arms wide. “This is it.”
“It was a pattern with Anton,” I said. “I don’t really know why he did it.”
“Screw that guy.”
“I’m with you.”
“I bet you are,” said Keith. “You know who you should talk to?”
“Hit me,” I said.
“One of the school counselors is all up in this Thooft crap.”
A sense of calm came over me. Keith was straightforward. It was so refreshing. “Will you intro me?” I asked.
“It’s Jackson Hobbes. He’s one of my gym partners. I can call him right now.”
“You’re my favorite person in Germany.”
Keith grinned at me. “I’m gonna want to take a picture with you for Instagram.”
“Not a problem as long as you hold off on posting until I get a handle on this investigation.” I posed with fish lips and he laughed a deep-throated laugh that reminded me of Grandad’s Vietnam buddies. Good-humored guys that had seen some stuff and dealt with it the best they could. Sherri might be disappointed with her non-knitting husband, but I sure wasn’t.
Keith dialed and then said, “Hobbes. La Roche. Guess who I’ve got sitting on my sofa right now?”
He waited a second and then laughed. “I wish. No. It’s Mercy Watts.”
A pause.
“I shit you not,” he said. “No, I’m not gonna say that, man. Are you out of your mind?”
A longer pause and then a burst of laughter while I waited, still super relaxed. Keith mixed with wine was a good thing.
“She wants to meet up and ask about that Thooft douchebag,” said Keith. “Have you still got all his stuff at the school?”
I raised a brow and he nodded.
“Great. Got time or are you hitting every Christmas market in Bavaria this weekend?”
He waited and then asked me, “Tomorrow at the school at nine?”
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“She’ll be there,” Keith said and then sighed. “Yeah, she’s still crying. I’m hoping Miss Watts can find something out that will shut it down. Thanks.”
Keith hung up. “He’s going to try to talk to Sherri, but he scares her, so I don’t think it’ll work.”
Oh, no.
“Why does he scare her?” I asked.
“Hobbes is old school. A marine from back in the day. He suffers no fools.”
“And he’s a high school counselor?”
“Second career and he’s good. Students like the no-bullshit approach,” he said. “Here’s the thing with Hobbes. Don’t mess around. You gotta come in hot. Do you understand what I mean?”
“My Grandad was a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. I get it.”
“Those guys saw some shit. The stories I’ve heard will blow your mind. I’ve seen combat, but that was a totally different animal.”
I thought of Grandad’s burns and nodded. “He won’t talk about it, but it was bad.”
“No doubt.” He nodded solemnly. “Any other questions for me?”
“Just a couple. Know anything about a kid named Sergio Tarantina?”
He shook his head. “Sherri might’ve mentioned him. Sounds vaguely familiar. Why?”
I told him about the rumors and he nodded, but said, “Can’t help you with that.”
“How about Alison? Any mention of that name?”
“I have to tell you Sherri loves her kids and she knows an ass-ton of them. I can’t keep them straight,” he said. “There are pictures. You want to see those.”
“You continue to be my favorite person in Germany,” I said.
Keith went into what he called the office and came out with a stack of photos. “Sherri got these prints before it all went down. They’re for the yearbook. They were working on picking which one to choose before that asshole ran off and attacked you.”
He sat next to me and we went through the stack. Mostly student council and the fall play. Natalie’s son Daniel was in the student council photos, looking spindly and goofy compared to the older students. He was kind of adorable in a pimply and not-knowing-what-the-hell-is-going-on way.
“You can’t name any of these kids?” I asked.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Sorry. I’ve seen them at functions, but I can’t name names. Hobbes will be able to do that.”
“Mind if I take some pictures of these?”
“Be my guest,” said Keith.
When I was done, I stood up and said, “I have one more question. It’s not related to the investigation though.”
“How’d I get so massive?” he asked with a laugh.
“You got me,” I said. “My boyfriend is trying to put on mass and it’s not going well.”
“For you or him?”
“Both.”
“What’s he doing?” Keith asked.
“Working out as much as humanly possible and eating boiled eggs and drinking disgusting shakes,” I said.
“How many eggs?”
“A dozen, but he wants to up that.”
Keith shook his head. “That’ll just give him gas.”
“Tell me about it.”
He asked to see a picture and I showed him one of Chuck at the beach in Honduras. Hot as hell, but he wasn’t bulky.
“Can’t be done without steroids,” said Keith.
“No?”
“No. He hasn’t got the structure for it.” He went over and pulled a photo album off a shelf. “This is my dad.”
The picture was of a middle-aged dude that could’ve been Keith, just with less hair and a potbelly.
“My dad wasn’t a workout guy. He always just had the muscle. The belly came with it. I gotta work my ass off not to have that belly. The muscle comes easy. Your man is always gonna be cut and slim. That’s how it is. I’d kill for that body. If I put on a sweater, I look morbidly obese.”
“Can’t fight nature,” I said.
He cocked his head to the side. “Did you try?”
“I did, but I just looked weird. This is what I look like. Unless I want to go the surgery route, this is it.”
“You got to accept who you are and enjoy,” said Keith.
“I wish my boyfriend could understand that.”
“He will in about six months when all he is is gassy and more cut.”
I groaned. “Six months.”
He laughed and we went to the door. “Is he worth it?”
“God, I hope so,” I said.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Watts.”
“Merry Christmas.”
I left the apartment building into a clear night. The drizzle had stopped and everything was now bright and beautiful. Christmas lights everywhere that I hadn’t noticed before. Trees in windows. It was lovely. It was enough Christmas for me and I walked back to Natalie’s apartment with a plan, a real thought-out plan. I know. Shocking.