Do-It-Yourself - Spackled And Spooked Part 17

I nodded. "I'll come with you. It's my house, anyway. And I don't have a car of my own."

"Can I come?" Shannon asked. Her mother shook her head.

"You have cla.s.s this afternoon, don't you? Come home to dinner tonight instead. I'll update you then. You, too, Josh. And . . ." She turned, "Ricky, would you like to come over for dinner?"

Ricky hesitated.

"We'll bring him," Josh said with a grin. "And Paige as well, while we're at it."

"What about me?" I asked plaintively. "And Derek?"

"Why not?" Kate shrugged. "The more, the merrier. We'll order pizza, or something."

"So much for home cooking," Shannon said.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll make stew. Something that I can just throw together in one big pot. If you get there early-say, right after your last cla.s.s-you can help."

Shannon promised she would, and Kate and I took our leave. I waited until we were back in the car and actually on our way to Becklea before I asked the question I'd been ruminating over for the past ten minutes.

"You don't think Brandon had anything to do with Holly's murder, do you?"

"Of course not," Kate said quickly. Maybe even a little too quickly. "He knew her, though. Having him investigate her murder is going to seem like a conflict of interest." Her eyes were on the road as she navigated the station wagon out of the Barnham College campus.

"Tony the Tiger will have a field day," I agreed.

"G.o.d, yes!" Kate shuddered. "But the Waterfield PD is so small, and Brandon's the only trained forensic tech they've got. . . . It's hard to imagine how Wayne will be able to manage without him. Especially on something like this."

"Will he have to pull him?"

"I don't see how he can avoid it," Kate admitted. "If word gets out that Brandon used to date Holly, everything he did down in the crawls.p.a.ce, everything he found, will be suspect. And because of the probable connection between Holly and Venetia, he won't be able to investigate that murder, either."

"What a big mess."

She nodded. "You said it."

When we got to Becklea, things were still much the way they'd been when I left earlier. Linda wasn't there anymore, and neither was Irina, but Tony the Tiger was still hanging on like grim death. We found Wayne inside Venetia's house, and when he saw us, he came out onto the deck and closed the door behind him.

"I guess you've heard the news."

Kate nodded. "Brandon said Dr. Whitaker identified Holly from her dental records. And then when he saw the computer reconstruction Josh and Ricky did, he went white as a sheet. It was Holly in the crawls.p.a.ce all right."

"Are you sure Brandon should be working the case?" I asked.

Wayne narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Of course he should be working the case. He's the best crime tech I've got. The only crime tech I've got. Why wouldn't I want him working the case?" He divided an intimidating stare between the two of us.

"They used to date," Kate said, unmoved.

Wayne blinked. "Brandon and Holly? How do you know?"

"He said so," I said. "When Derek first found the bones and Brandon realized which house we had bought. It seems the kids used to come here sometimes, to the haunted house, to impress their girlfriends."

Wayne nodded. "I had to go out here a couple times to chase a few of 'em off."

"Well, Holly was Brandon's girlfriend, so he came here with her."

"Huh," Wayne said.

"I found a picture of the two of them in the Clarion archives, too. From prom. They went together."

So even if Wayne, or Brandon, or both, were inclined to sweep the issue under the rug, there was evidence out there, proving that Brandon and Holly had known each other.

"This isn't good," Wayne said. Kate and I shook our heads in unison. He sighed. "I'm gonna have to take him off the case, aren't I? He's not gonna be happy about that. Biggest case we've had in the time he's been with the department, and he has to go on traffic duty."

"Maybe you can get Ramona Estrada to help you instead," I suggested. In my four months in Waterfield, I'd never met Ramona, but Derek had mentioned her once. We'd gotten pulled over for making an illegal U-turn on Main Street, and while we waited for the attending cop to exit his car, Derek had made a wish that it would turn out to be Ramona Estrada. Apparently she was a soft touch. The cop had turned out to be Wayne himself, and Derek had failed to sweet-talk his way out of the ticket, but I had formed a mental picture of Ramona Estrada that looked a lot like Jennifer Lopez in a police uniform.

"Ramona?" Wayne repeated now, with a funny look on his face; one that Kate shared. "Oh, I don't think she'd like that very much. Do you, Kate?"

Kate shook her head. "Ramona's the police secretary, Avery. You know, the lady who answers the phone when you call the police department?"

"Oh." I blushed. "Derek said . . ." I went on to explain what Derek had said, and what I'd thought. Both Wayne and Kate laughed.

"He was probably checking to see how you'd react," Kate giggled. "This was before you started going steady, right?"

I nodded and tried to process the concept of "going steady." I guess that's what we were doing-going steady, dating, seeing one another-but it wasn't an expression I'd heard used much since middle school.

Wayne was chuckling, too. "Ramona's in her fifties, Avery, and happily married with kids and grandkids. And she's not a policewoman. She works for the police department, but she's a civilian. She does office work. Answers the phones, files the reports, inputs data in the computer now that Josh has taught her how."

He sighed and shook his head, back to the problem at hand. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, but I don't mind telling you, putting Brandon on traffic duty for the duration isn't going to make anybody happy. d.a.m.n."

He reached for his phone. Kate stayed his hand for long enough to tell him that Josh, Ricky, Shannon, Derek, and I were all coming to the B and B for dinner later. Wayne looked wistful, but said he had no idea whether he'd be able to get away or not. "When something like this happens, the first couple days are crucial. After that, it becomes less and less likely that we'll catch up with whoever did it. But I'll see if I can get away for an hour or so."

"I'll wait in the car," I said, to give the two of them a minute on their own to say good-bye and exchange any private remarks they'd be reluctant to voice in front of me.

Kate came out after a few seconds and started the car. We had driven only about ninety or a hundred yards-halfway down the block-when I sat bolt upright. "Stop!"

"What?" Kate came to a sudden stop-luckily jolting only my unbruised shoulder and hip, since I was in the pa.s.senger seat this time.

I pulled myself together. "You see that woman over there, pulling weeds? That's Denise. She was one of Holly's friends growing up."

Kate looked hesitant. "You want to go talk to her?"

"Better she hear it from us, don't you think? Than wait until Tony the Tiger puts it on the news?"

"I don't know, Avery . . ."

"Look," I said, trying a different tack, "you heard Wayne. The first couple of days after a murder are crucial. Holly's been dead for four years. He has to notify her mother that she's been found, obviously, but his priority is going to be finding Venetia's killer. Without Brandon he's short-handed already, and it may be days before he can get around to talking to Denise. We'd be doing him a favor."

Kate nodded, but reluctantly. I kept pus.h.i.+ng.

"If she says anything that might help, we'll tell Wayne, and he can interview her himself, but if she doesn't know anything, then we'll have saved him the trouble of finding out."

"I guess . . ."

"And it sounded like she and Holly had been close. It would be cruel to let her learn about it on the news."

"If they were so close," Kate asked, diverted, "why hasn't she been worried? If my best friend vanished without a trace, I'd suspect that something was wrong. Especially if I never heard from her again."

"Why don't you ask her?" I suggested. Kate gnawed on her lip for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her and she gave in.

Denise looked up when she heard the car doors slam. "Baby's sleeping," she said, pointing to a window cracked open above her head, through which I guess she'd be able to hear Trevor when he woke up.

Kate smiled. "I remember those days. You're up a couple of times every night, feeding and changing, and those few hours during the day when they're napping are golden."

Denise nodded fervently.

"We're sorry to bother you," I said, endeavoring to pitch my voice low, "but we need to tell you something."

Denise looked nervous, glancing from Kate to me.

"Have you two met?" I added. "This is Caitlin McGillicutty. Kate, this is Denise . . . I'm sorry, Denise, I don't know your last name."

"Robertson," Denise said, shaking Kate's hand. "What can I do for you?" She folded her arms across her chest.

Kate glanced at me. I said, "I wanted to talk to you about your friend Holly."

Denise looked surprised, and a little wary. "Why?"

"Well . . ." I glanced over at Kate, who nodded encouragement, "it's not on the news yet, but that skeleton under the house up the street . . ."

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Her eyes turned huge and her mouth dropped open. "That was Holly? Oh, my G.o.d. But . . . she's in California."

"Obviously not," Kate muttered.

"Dr. Whitaker-you know, the dentist?"

Denise nodded.

"He checked the dental records and identified her. And one of the students at Barnham did what's called a forensic facial reconstruction, and Brandon Thomas-you know Brandon, with the Waterfield PD?-he recognized her from that, as well."

"Oh, my G.o.d," Denise repeated. "Yes, of course I know Brandon. We went to school together. He and Holly dated."

I nodded. "He's breaking the news to Linda White right now. It'll probably help her to have someone who knew Holly do it, don't you think?"

"I guess," Denise said.

"I've been wondering about something," Kate began, now that the difficult imparting of news was over. "Avery said you told her that Holly went to California, right?"

Denise nodded. "Right after final exams. It was what she always said she wanted to do. Go to Hollywood and be discovered. She didn't even stay for the graduation ceremony. Just up and left one night." She stopped as the impact of what she'd just said sank in. "Oh, my G.o.d," she added, "she didn't go to California, did she?"

"It doesn't seem that way," I answered, diplomatically. "Didn't you ever wonder? I mean, even if she talked about going, didn't you think it was strange that she didn't tell anyone she was leaving? Or send a card or something?"

Denise shrugged, a little helplessly. "She left a note," she offered. "For her mom. And packed a bag and everything."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. Mrs. White showed it to me. The next morning, when I knocked on the door to see why Holly wasn't at the bus stop. It said not to call her, she would call her mother instead."

"And she never did?" Kate asked. Denise turned to her.

"I never heard from her again. I guess once she got out of here, we weren't good enough for her anymore." She looked stricken and added, "I mean, that's what I thought. That once she left, and she had this great life that she'd always dreamed of, she forgot about all of us."

"Even her mom?"

"Holly and her mom never got along," Denise said. "Mrs. White wanted Holly to go to college and get an education. She's a waitress at the Shamrock. She wanted Holly to do better, but all Holly wanted was to finish high school so she could go somewhere-like Las Vegas or Hollywood-and be discovered."

"She wanted to be an actress?" I'd met my share of those, living in New York.

Denise nodded. "She usually got cast in the school plays, although it was mostly because she was so pretty, I think." She sounded a little envious, and I could certainly relate. Not that there was anything wrong with Denise's appearance-other than the fact that she looked exhausted-but Holly had been exceptionally pretty, and it's difficult not to feel inferior when you come up against that type.

"So she wanted to be famous?"

Denise nodded. "She wanted to wear fancy dresses and diamonds and have her picture in the papers and marry somebody rich and famous, like an actor or a sports star or somebody."

She made Holly's ambitions sound very immature, but of course Holly had been very young. "How old was she?"

Denise turned to me. "She'd just turned eighteen in April. Just a month before graduation." Her eyes started filling with tears as the reality of what had happened began to sink in. "I can't believe she's dead."

"Do you have any idea why someone would have wanted to get rid of her? Did she have any problems? Anyone bothering her? Maybe she argued with someone? Stole another girl's boyfriend?"

"Who told you that?" Denise said, and then sniffed. "Most of the boys liked her, but she was dating Brandon exclusively before she left. I mean, before she died. I don't remember her having anything to do with anyone else." For a second I thought I heard something in her voice, a false note, but it could have been just emotion.

"What about Lionel? Did they ever date?" Hard to imagine that the beautiful and popular Holly would have gone out with the awkward Lionel Kenefick, but I felt I had to ask.

Denise shook her head. "Holly would never date Lionel. He wasn't popular enough. He liked her, just like all the other guys, but they were just friends. Like her and me." She sniffed.

"So who do you think killed her?" Kate asked. "And buried her in the crawls.p.a.ce?"

But Denise had no idea, or so she said. We took our leave and went back to the car, none the wiser.

I was just getting into the Volvo when Lionel Kenefick's dirty paneled van came cruising up the street. He must have recognized me, because he pulled to a stop and rolled the window down. "Ms. Baker."

"Hi, Lionel," I said politely, moving a few feet closer.

"You OK? That was quite a knock you took earlier." His examination of my figure was a little too thorough.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." I folded my arms across my chest.

"Anything going on with Denise?"