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For the first part of the tournament, I was nervous, fearing my plan hadn’t worked, but finally, around 11:30, Gloria and Lorna arrived. They rode in Ty and Nan’s golf cart, their feet hanging off the back. Lorna didn’t look pleased to be there, and she wasn’t gracious when her mother needed help climbing off the cart. When she bent to support Gloria, I saw that Lorna’s shoulder was heavily bandaged. I wondered briefly if Gloria had gotten tired of being abused by her daughter and smacked her with something, but the thought was fleeting. I know from experience how hard it is to stand up and fight back when a bully has you cowed.
Lorna turned, saw me looking, and gave me a “What are you gawking at?” glare. I turned away, pretending to be absorbed in the games as I fought an interior battle. The opportunity I’d hoped and planned for was here. Did I still want to do this? There was no telling how long they’d stay at the game field, so I had to decide quickly.
Doubts crowded my mind. What if they returned home and caught me? What if a neighbor of theirs reported my unlawful entry? What if I found absolutely nothing to explain O’Connor’s disappearance? What if I found something—could I call the police and say, “While I was in someone else’s trailer, I found a clue you need to follow up on.” Was I really going through with this?
I was ninety-nine percent sure they had something to do with O’Connor’s disappearance, so yes. I was going to do it.
Tommy was talking strategy with his partner, a man whose name I can never remember. It’s possibly a Freudian thing, since the guy makes a point of mentioning Tommy’s first wife whenever possible, always in a tone that suggests that her death was the end of Tommy’s happiness. Taking advantage of his preoccupation, I touched Tommy’s arm, told him I’d forgotten to put on sunblock, and started off. He hardly heard me, and everyone else was watching, talking, and cheering the players. I was gone before anyone noticed.
The park was fairly quiet, but I did meet the Astaire sisters, on their way to the tournament with broad-brimmed hats, fanny packs, and a collapsible cooler. “It isn’t over yet, is it?” Chelsie asked.
“No. I had to run home for some...thing.”
“You should change your shirt while you’re there,” Elsie said in her usual, authoritative tone. “One should never wear yellow outside. Bees are aroused by it, and you’re likely to be stung.”
“Yes,” Chelsie chimed in. “Animals have definite color preferences. For example, everyone knows that bulls hate red.”
I should have bitten my lip, but I blurted out, “Bulls don’t see much color. Red looks gray to them.”
Their lips pursed, and Chelsie’s tone implied that my ignorance was pitiful. “Then why are matadors’ capes red, dear?”
“They—” I stopped myself. Arguing was useless.
“It never hurts to listen to those who’ve had more experience in the world than you have,” Elsie said. I was reminded of a librarian in junior high who’d said I was too young to read A Tale of Two Cities. She’d folded her hands like that and tilted her head the same way. Remembering that I was in a hurry, I said, “I’ll think about it,” and went on, no doubt leaving the sisters convinced they’d straightened out a misguided soul yet again.
When I reached Hawk Street, I spotted Gloria’s green Volkswagen at the other end, turning onto Main East and probably headed for the park exit. One of the women had left the game field, come back for the car, and was now driving away. She’d probably shortened her journey by cutting between trailers. I figured it was Lorna, but Gloria had probably stayed at the games. With her in tow, there was no way Lorna could have beaten me there.
To be sure the place was empty, I knocked. There was no answer. The door was locked, but the frame was old, flimsy, and bent out of shape. A yank to one side and a sharp jerk, and it popped open. I glanced around, hoping that any neighbors who weren’t at the tournament weren’t looking out their windows. I made a show of leaning into the doorway and pretending to call out. Then, as if I’d been invited, I went in.
Like many trailers in the park, this one had a screened lanai running the length of the structure. Inside it, three steps led to a sliding door that opened to the trailer itself. The lanai was almost bare, with only a few lawn chairs stacked by the door and a ratty-looking futon halfway down. At its opposite end was a second storm door, and through its window I could see the back of the trailer behind it. Climbing the steps and sliding the glass door aside, I stepped into the living area.
Even if I hadn’t known the place was a rental, it would have been easy to tell from its lack of personality. The furniture, clearly second-hand, ran to browns and dirty tans. The appliances were harvest gold and downright elderly. And the cupboards were fake-wood cheap, with bubbles in spots where the paper had come loose. The Van Burens had added an unkempt, temporary look. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and trash overflowed the wastebasket, the result of many and varied takeout meals: Wendy’s cups, McDonald’s wrappers, Steak ’N Shake bags, and Pizza Hut boxes.
Through the living room and kitchen and down a hallway, I found two bedrooms. In the first, smaller one was a rumpled bed. An open suitcase sat atop the chipped, pressed-wood dresser. The room stunk, and a coffee can beside the bed, half-full of butts, indicated why. I imagined Lorna having a last cigarette before drifting off to sleep each night. The larger bedroom at the back was Gloria’s, judging from an assortment of arthritis creams and elastic bandages. I saw nothing—
A noise at my back startled me, and I looked around frantically, seeking a way out. Either way I went, I’d come out on the lanai and be seen by anyone coming in. A temporary hiding place was a better option. If whoever I heard stopped in the living room, I’d go out the back. If she went to the bedroom, I’d slip out the way I came in.
What an idiot you are, playing detective! Pulling myself together, I considered the two possibilities: the hallway closet or the bathroom. The second was closer, so I slid the door open and stepped inside.
No one had come into the trailer, which was a good thing, because my yip of surprise would certainly have given me away. The noise I’d heard was Detective Ray O’Connor, who lay taped up like a FedEx package in the Van Burens’ bathtub. Now I knew why Lorna had refused to let either Tommy or Bill the maintenance man inside the trailer.
As soon as he recognized me, O’Connor began making urgent noises. I understood the message, though not the words. Opening the medicine cabinet, I found a small pair of scissors and, squatting beside him, cut the duct tape that circled his head. We both winced as I peeled the strip away from his mouth, but as soon as he was able, O’Connor said, “Do you have a phone?”
I nodded, but when I reached for it, found my pocket empty. With a moan of regret, I recalled that on the way to the cornhole tournament, I’d ordered pizza for the whole gang delivered to our house at six. When I ended the call, I’d set my phone in the glove compartment of Karen’s golf cart. Later, eager to sneak away without anyone noticing, I forgot that I’d left it there.
When I shook my head, O’Connor grimaced, but he said, “Okay. Go find one and call for help.”
“I’ll get this tape off you, and we’ll go together.”
“I can’t.” I followed O’Connor’s gaze to his feet and saw that he only wore one shoe. The ankle of the shoeless foot was twice its normal size, and his black sock was semi-transparent, stretched to its limit.
“I can’t walk,” he said. “You need to—”
Too late. The door at the front of the trailer opened, and we froze as uneven footsteps sounded along the lanai. Then the back door opened, and in a tone much different from her usual sing-song manner, Gloria Van Buren said, “Keep low, you two, so no one can see you through the windows.” We heard muffled footsteps. The door closed, and she said, “Give me a minute.” A mild clattering sound puzzled me until I realized Gloria was closing the blinds. “Okay,” she said when she’d finished. “Tell me what you know.”
A low male voice spoke. “When she was leaving the park, Lorna saw cops coming in, so she called to warn us. That was good, because otherwise, we’d have run right into them.”
“She called me too,” Gloria said. “I had to plead a serious case of diarrhea to get those clowns to bring me home.” Her tone changed, as if she’d shifted from complaint mode to planning. “Where’s the pickup?”
“Parked behind an empty house outside the park.” The second man’s voice was higher, and he talked through his nose, like he was about to break into a country song. “There was a bug-killers’ truck by the front gate, so we stole two vests and a pump tank and walked here between the trailers, like we were checking for infestations.”
“Smart,” Gloria said. “Nobody pays much attention to the bug people.”
Gloria sounded competent and in charge, completely different from the drifty old lady I’d thought she was.
“Where’s Leanne?”
“You need to call her Lorna now, Ethan. She’s on her way to Gainesville, where one of my online boyfriends is going to loan her eight hundred dollars to repair her fictional condo.” There was laughter in Gloria’s voice. “She’ll blush and thank him and promise to repay the loan as soon as her insurance check arrives.”
The nasal-voiced man was dismissive. “You and her got a way with the dumbasses of the world.”
“Don’t sneer, Johnny,” Gloria’s tone was chiding. “Gullible old people have been paying your way since you screwed up so bad. You’re lucky you aren’t washing bedsheets in some Canadian prison.”
“I’ll feel better when we’re on a plane to South America,” Ethan said. “How long before we get the cash you promised?”
“The couple is driving down from Tennessee tomorrow to buy Alta’s trailer,” Gloria replied. “I had to set up the showing for the weekend, so the park office is closed.”
“Wouldn’t be good to have the real people in charge come wandering by,” Johnny said agreeably.
“They’re bringing ten thousand in cash,” she said. “I created some official looking documents for them to sign, and Lorna will play the part of the park manager. We should have the money to pay your pilot by tomorrow evening.”
“That sounds better than selling some old woman’s stuff piece by piece,” Johnny said.
Gloria’s tone turned irritated. “I never expected to have to support four people with my little projects. It didn’t hurt you two to earn your cigarette money.”
“Yeah, but thirty bucks for a couch here and twenty for a dishwasher there. It was a real pain hauling all that crap around.”
Clearing her throat, Gloria voiced a warning. “Since somebody called the cops on you, you’ll have to stay out of sight until it’s time to go.” After a brief hesitation, she asked, “Did Lorna mention our guest?”
“What guest?” Ethan’s tone was angry, as if he suspected things were about to get more complicated.
“On Monday, this detective came by to ask if I knew where my daughter and her husband might be. I said I didn’t, and I had him convinced. Then he recognized one of the photos I was using in the dating scam on my computer screen.” Her voice got fainter, as if she didn’t want to tell the rest. “I didn’t think it was safe to let him leave, so I...cracked him one on the head.”
“You killed him?”
“No, Johnny, I didn’t kill him. He’s duct-taped like a mummy and residing in our bathroom.”
Both men responded the same way. “What?”
“I had to protect myself,” she said defensively, “and you guys as well. If he’d put it together and come back, there’d be my daughter, big as life and wanted for murder in Canada.”
“You’re keeping him alive in your bathtub?” Ethan asked.
“If he was dead, he’d stink.” Gloria’s tone contained a hint of Duh!
“Do you feed him, like a pet goldfish?” Johnny seemed truly curious.
“He gets Boost twice a day through a straw.” Her tone turned challenging. “It’s up to you two to figure out what to do with him when we leave.”
When Ethan spoke again, I guessed he’d put anger aside in favor of necessity. “Who knows he came here?”
“A few people saw him arrive, but I covered it with a story. Once it got dark, Lorna drove his car to a swamp up north and sunk it. I followed and brought her back.”
I recalled Karen’s account of Lorna’s anger at her mother Tuesday morning. Now I understood the reason.
Ethan’s next comment chilled me with its casual tone. “You shoulda sunk the cop with the car.”
“How would we do that?” Gloria sounded angry, whether at his lack of understanding or her own loss of ability, I couldn’t say. “I can’t carry a full-grown man, and because of your poor planning, Lorna’s got a bullet hole in her shoulder.”
“You old—”
Johnny stepped in to calm ruffled feathers. “No worries, kids. We can leave the cop here when we go.”
“They’ll find his corpse.” Gloria sounded unhappy.
“So what? If he connected you to Leanne, others will too.”
Again, Johnny tried to be upbeat. “Besides, you’ll be on a different continent. It won’t matter.”
Gloria wasn’t convinced. “Think it through, boys. Without the detective, my daughter and I are two women who moved on. But if they find a dead body in the bathtub when we leave, they’ll come looking for us.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get all riled up.” That was Ethan. “We’ll take care of him tonight, after the old folks are in bed.”
“You’ll have to be careful. They take turns patrolling the streets after dark.”
“All night?”
“No. Whoever is on the schedule picks their own time, but there’s also this guy who walks his dog at night, and the people at the other end of this street sit outside until all hours.” Gloria’s voice roughened. “Around here, someone’s always looking.”
I heard a long sigh. “Let’s take a look at your cop. If he ain’t too big, he might fit in one of those totes you get at Wallyworld.”
I turned to O’Connor, panicked, and he whispered urgently, “Tape! Then get in the corner.” He gestured with his head.
Miraculously, I got the message. Pressing the tape back over his mouth, I climbed onto the corners of the tub, straddling the spigot, and pulled the shower curtain to one end so it hid me, at least as long as no one came into the bathroom. Standing with my back against the tile and my neck crooked around the shower head was uncomfortable, but I had no time to adjust my position. Besides, I was looking down at O’Connor, who was ten times worse off and had been for days.
The door slid open, followed by a moment of silence. I thought they’d hear my heart pounding, but of course that was only how it felt on the inside. After a few seconds, Johnny said, “He’s a big one.”
“Yeah. Definitely too big for a tote.”
“We’ll do it before we leave tomorrow night.”
“How?” Gloria asked.
“When we’re ready, I bash in his skull. Johnny gets the truck, and we toss him in the back. On the way to the airstrip, we stop at some bridge and drop the body over the edge.”
A pause followed his words. I guessed Gloria was trying to come to terms with the fact that she would soon be involved in murder, and worse, the murder of a police officer. Would she balk? Offer a less drastic solution?
“There’s a big tarp in the storage shed,” she said, “and some of those edging bricks along the carport will add weight, so he doesn’t come up for a while.”