Auld Lang Syne (19 page)

“
Ahhhh
,” Harold nodded. “I wondered about that. Good for them for coming to the reunion together.
Man, that
would not have been possible in 1978.”

“Anyway, I have to turn over this new information about Carrie and Ariel to the Brewster Police tomorrow morning. I promised Margo.” Here followed another digression to explain who Margo and her husband were and why I was obliged to come clean the following morning. “I was just so hoping to have another lead or two to give the police at the same time so they wouldn’t put too much emphasis on Carrie and Ariel.”

“Which brings me to my research,” Harold segued neatly, “or more accurately the research of a private investigator friend of mine I asked to look into it for me. He’s much better at this stuff than I am, and he has better resources.”

I was dismayed. “I didn’t want you to have to hire someone.”

He dismissed my concern with a wave. “Calling him my friend is probably an overstatement. He’s on retainer with my company and gets paid every week whether he does anything or not. Mostly we use him on industrial espionage stuff, leaks, that sort of thing, but it’s been quiet lately. Doing this let him earn his fee honestly for a change.”

In the interest of moving this along I decided to accept Harold’s largesse without further protestations. “Okay, thanks so much, Harold. What did he find out about Dave Engle?”

I prepared to give Harold the same rapt attention he’d given me but took the opportunity to shove a forkful of salad into my mouth.

“Let’s start with what we already knew about Dave going in,” he began

“In my case, not much,” I muttered. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Dave’s father was a military man. Air Force, it turns out, the commander at Westover Air Force Base in Massachusetts back when it was a real base and Guam before that. The family moved every couple of years, which has got to be tough on a kid, especially one with no brothers or sisters. Anyway, they moved to Brewster in 1977, when the father retired from active duty. Dave enrolled in Brewster High that November.” He paused to take a sip of water.

“I don’t remember Dave at all, and he was a member of our class for a whole year,” I mused.

Harold snorted. “There were over two hundred other kids in our class. Do you remember every one of them? I sure don’t.”

“I know, but it seems wrong somehow. If we lived in a town of two hundred people, we’d for sure know every single one of them.”

“Because we’re adults and hopefully more aware of those around us than we were as adolescents.
Well, most of us anyway,” he laughed. “I can think of a few exceptions to that rule. But remember, we didn’t go to school with just the members of our class. Brewster had freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors, so there were at least four times that many kids milling around.”

I nodded, munching on an apple slice. “Still, the awful thing that happened with Dave’s girlfriend would have been the talk of the school, wouldn’t it?”

Harold shrugged philosophically. “Dave was a loner for the most part. Kathy Schuyler, his girlfriend, was pretty much his only companion at Brewster. He didn’t play sports or join any of the clubs …”

“ …
except the National Honor Society,” I interrupted. “I found the picture in our yearbook this morning.”

“Really?”
Harold was surprised. “That’s not something you just sign up for, though. Membership is based on the results of some exam, sort of like the SAT, that’s given once a year throughout the country.”

“You’re right, but what else did you find out? This is all old news.”

Harold raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, Ma’am.
So Mindy targeted Dave for her own sick little sport, and we know what happened after that. Kathy, feeling totally betrayed and not having the inner strength to get over it, hanged herself and left a note saying why. Then Dave was yanked out of Brewster and packed off to a private high school in Massachusetts to finish high school. It’s what comes next that’s interesting.”

“I can hardly wait,” I said through clenched teeth. Would the man never get to it?

“After he got his diploma, Dave matriculated at Boston University and graduated with a BS in 1982. Then, get this, he enrolled in medical school.
Tufts University School of Medicine, no less.”
He paused, waiting for my reaction.

“Uh huh, so he went to med school and became a doctor. That meshes with his National Honor Society write-up, which said something about his being especially interested in chemistry and biology.”

Harold was momentarily deflated. “It did? Oh.”

“Where did he wind up practicing?”

Harold brightened. “He
didn’t,
never even finished medical school. He walked out one day in the autumn of his third year and never came back.”

That did surprise me. “He didn’t turn up in another medical school a few years later or something?”

Harold’s head shake was emphatic. “Believe me, our investigator left no stone unturned. There was no other school admission, no Peace Corps, no military service. He left most of his personal belongings in storage, but after a year, which is all he’d paid for in advance, they were auctioned off or destroyed. He climbed into his old Chevy and drove away into the sunset. I have no idea if he even told his parents where he was, and now they’re both deceased.
Weird, yes?”

“Maybe not so much, Harold.
It was the eighties, all those drugs and antiwar sentiment. Lots of young people dropped out, walked away from the establishment and its values for a few years, remember? Maybe the grind of medical school and the prospect of years of internship and residency still ahead simply became too much for Dave. Is that the end of the story, or did he turn up again somewhere?”

Harold smiled his crooked smile. “No, but now it gets into the realm of speculation. He didn’t turn up. That is, Dave Engle didn’t re-emerge. After he left Tufts we found twenty years of nothing, no Social Security earnings, no tax returns, motor vehicle registration records, voter registrations, nada.”

“But?”

“But a funny thing happened in 2008. Brewster, Connecticut welcomed a new resident to its property tax roster. He bought a condo and registered a two-year-old Chevrolet, and he presently works as an aide at the Shady Hill Rest Home, where Dave Engle’s father resided until his death. He’s a quiet guy, keeps to himself a lot. His name is Dan Emerson.”

I thought about that for a minute. If TV cop shows could be relied upon, most people who changed their identities chose to keep the same initials. It makes the adjustment to a new name a little easier.

“That’s a lot of coincidences, but aside from having the same initials and preferring Chevys, what makes you think Dan Emerson and Dave Engle
are
the same person?”

Here Harold whipped a small photo out of his shirt pocket and presented it with a flourish. “Dan seems to be wearing Dave’s face. The hair is a little thinner on top and graying, and he’s wearing contact lenses instead of glasses, but other than that,
look
for yourself.”

Having seen a photo of young Dave Engle only this morning, I had no trouble seeing the likeness. I looked up at Harold, wide-eyed.

“What does this mean? Where did you get this photo?”

Harold radiated smugness. “We pulled it off the Internet, the member page of the Southeastern Connecticut Volunteer Ambulance Corps. Dan Emerson is a licensed EMT. In fact, he’s a paramedic. He rides four shifts a month as a volunteer.”

I swallowed hard. “It was a Southeastern Connecticut ambulance that showed up at the reunion. I remember the logo on the side. Was Dan or Dave or whoever he is now on duty the night of December twenty-ninth?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible. The fellow I talked to on the phone this morning said Dan usually takes a couple of the weekend shifts so the married guys can be with their families.”

My heart started its now familiar thudding. “How do we find out for certain?”

“We talk to Dan-Dave. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want you to approach him by yourself.”

I looked at him with gratitude,
then
glanced at my watch. “It’s two-thirty. Do you think we can catch up with him at Shady Hill?”

“I had the same first thought, to surprise him in a public place, but that’s not going to work out.”

“Why not?”

“According to the Shady Hill supervisor I spoke with a few hours ago, Dan called in sick on Tuesday and still hasn’t returned to work.”

Shades of Ariel and her absence at Shear Heaven.
Was everyone going to disappear on me? I slumped in my chair.
“Now what?”

“Now we go knock on the door of that condo in Brewster and hope Dan Emerson is in there with the flu. I just happen to have his address.”

Ten minutes later we were back at my place. Harold checked the latest weather forecast on line while I played back a message on my answering machine. It was from Joanie.
“Hi, Kate, where the heck are you?
I tried your work number, and you’re not answering your cell phone. Listen, it took some doing, but I managed to get Ari to agree to talk to us later today. She didn’t come to work again, but the owner is closing Shear Heaven down at three o’clock on account of the weather. I asked Ari if we could meet at her place, but she said no, she’d meet us here around three-thirty. I’m supposed to wait in the locker room until everybody else clears out, and she’ll let herself in. We all have key fobs that will disarm the security system after hours. If you can’t make it, call me at Shear Heaven. I’m worried, Kate. Ari sounded like she’s been hitting the vodka pretty hard.”

When Harold came downstairs from my office, I filled him in. “Now what do I do? I need to talk to both Ariel and Dave, if Dan Emerson is really Dave, and I’m running out of time here. When are you flying out?”

“Not anytime soon. My pilot says we’ve missed the safe window, so we’re grounded at least for the night, maybe longer. He booked us a couple of rooms at a motel near
Brainard
Field, or I’d be sleeping on your couch.”

The possibility of Harold sleeping on our couch was the least of my problems, although Armando might have a question or two. I chewed on my thumbnail. “I’ve got to see Ari in about half an hour. If that goes reasonably well, maybe we could look Dave up this evening.”

Harold quashed that idea. The driving is going to be god awful, especially once the afternoon commute gets going. I think we should split up. You go talk to Ariel, and I’ll try to find Dave.”

I started to protest, but he cut me off.
“Why not?
I feel as if I know as much about this situation as you do now. It’s nothing official, just a conversation between two former Brewster High geeks. We were both victims of Mindy’s cruelty in different ways. Who knows? Maybe he’ll open up to me if I approach him right.”

I still had doubts, but a lot of what Harold said made sense. I felt myself relenting. “And just what is the right approach?”

He looked at his watch. “I have absolutely no idea at the moment, but I have at least half an hour to figure it out. That’s how long it will take me to drive down there.”

Still, I hesitated. Who would be answering that door in Brewster, and how unhappy would that person be to have his secrets unearthed?

“Go, go!” Harold exhorted, pushing me toward the door. “You’ve got my cell phone number, and I’ve got yours. Just make sure it’s turned on.”

I retrieved the little phone from my purse and ostentatiously shoved it into the pocket of my slacks. “Okay, but no matter what, we’ll check in with each other by five o’clock.”

“Got it,” he agreed and dashed out the door, turning his collar up against the first flakes of snow. The windshield of his rental car was already coated with white, and he used his sleeve to clear it and the back window before starting the engine.

Safe driving, I wished him silently.
Safe everything.

Eighteen

By the time I’d negotiated the slippery suburban streets between Wethersfield and West Hartford in the rapidly accumulating snow, it was after four o’clock and nearly dusk. As Joanie had indicated it would be, the parking lot at Shear Heaven was all but deserted. Two cars crouched together near the rear entrance of the salon. I recognized Joanie’s little Honda and assumed the other car belonged to Ariel, since it had picked up far less snow. I beeped the
Jetta
locked and slipped and slid my way to the door. After rapping on it sharply, I put my mouth near the crack.

“Joanie?
Ariel?
It’s me, Kate. Open up,” I yelled unnecessarily, since almost immediately Ariel yanked open the door and waved me inside. I felt my way into the gloomy interior as she slammed the door behind me and turned to face me unsteadily.

“What took you so long?” she demanded but didn’t wait for my answer.
“Never mind.
Get in there.” She flapped a hand in the direction of a dim light coming through an interior door, and I followed it into the main salon area.

Joan occupied one of the styling chairs. Gray duct tape covered her mouth, and her forearms were bound securely to the armrests with the same tape. Her eyes were simultaneously apologetic and terrified.

I whirled on Ariel. “What’s going on here?” I couldn’t help asking before I realized that Ariel held a small handgun of some type, and it was aimed squarely at my midsection.

“What’s going on here?” she mimicked me drunkenly. “You two have been so hot to talk to me, just couldn’t leave me alone, so I decided to accommodate you by arranging this final gathering. So talk there will be, but it’s going to be on my terms, no one else’s.”

Final gathering?
Coming from a drunk holding a gun on me, that didn’t sound very appealing.
“You bet, Ariel. You’re calling the shots,” I said and cringed. “I mean, whatever you want.”

“I want you to park yourself in that chair next to Joanie and put your hands on the armrests, just like hers, while I tape you up.” She gestured with the gun, and I thought it best to comply.

“Do you mind?” I said, slipping my arms out of my parka sleeves and dropping the coat over a table. “It’s so hot in here.” I had an insane hope that I could somehow get to the cell phone in my pocket, although with both arms taped to a chair, that didn’t seem likely.

“Suit
yourself
,” she shrugged. “This shouldn’t take long.”

I lowered myself into the chair, and she secured me to it with remarkable efficiency, considering her impaired state. She finished by slapping a long strip of tape firmly over my mouth.

“You wanted to talk? Okay, but it’s going to be me doing all the talking. Just this once everybody else has to shut up and listen to me.”

I exchanged glances with Joanie, and we both nodded earnestly. I doubted that Ariel even noticed. She seemed almost unaware of our presence as she paced furiously in front of us.

“You have no idea, none at all, what it was like for me in high school. None of you ever did, especially the la-la-la ones like you.” She stopped her frantic pacing long enough to sneer at me. I was barely listening to her, mesmerized as I was by the little pistol clutched tightly in her right hand.

“Katie Lawrence, straight-A student, member of the pep squad and just as cute as a
friggin
’ little button.
Too bad you were too stupid to put out for that hunky boyfriend of yours, or he never would have given Mindy a tumble. I wouldn’t have minded getting me some of that myself, but Mindy had already staked her claim, and I knew better than to mess with her. Everyone did.”

Despite the tape over my mouth, I
gargled
a protest. It dawned on me that Ariel had serious grievances to air and seemed to be enjoying being able to do it after all these years of silence. I needed to keep her talking if we were to have any chance at all to get out of here alive. Time might bring someone else into the closed salon, the owner catching up on paperwork, the cleaning staff, a petty thief, anyone. I wasn’t choosy, but even if someone did show up, it would be tough to make our plight known with this tape over our mouths.

I forced my features into a sympathetic expression and stared deeply into Ariel’s glazed eyes, trying to look my most pathetic as I pleaded with her silently: I’m not the person you think I am. I don’t condemn you for what you did, and I really want to hear your side of things.
Talk to me.
Let me talk to you.

Amazingly, something like compassion came over her face as she peered more closely at me. A couple of tears were very easy for me to manufacture under the circumstances, and I blinked rapidly to urge them down my cheeks.

“Oh, what the hell,” Ariel muttered to herself. “There’s no one to hear you.” She dropped the little pistol on the counter behind me and grabbed at the super-sticky tape over my mouth, raking my cheek with her manicured talons in the process. As the tape tore loose from my skin, I remembered why I’d vowed never to have another bikini wax. I stretched my lips carefully and sat, panting, as she tore the tape from Joanie’s mouth, as well.

“Thank you,” I mouthed, unable to work up enough saliva to speak audibly. Ariel didn’t seem to notice. She also failed to notice that her weapon was no longer in her hand. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had, but I avoided turning to glance over my shoulder at the counter where it lay.

Ariel resumed walking and ranting. “You want to know what it was like being one of Mindy’s
bitches?
That’s what she called you and me, Joanie, her bitches. Well, I’ll tell Kate what it was like. After all, who is she going to rat me out to?” She laughed without humor and took another hit from the vodka bottle she had produced from a drawer. “Nobody, that’s
who
. But Mindy would have. That’s what she did,
buddied
up with you,
made
you feel like her best friend in the world until she got something on you. Then she held it over your head, promising to blab everything unless you did exactly what she wanted, exactly how she wanted you to. She didn’t have any real friends, so she recruited the two of us to do her bidding and suck up to her. Me and Joanie, Joanie and me, that’s all there was.”

She stood lost in bad memories, and I frantically tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going.

“
Wh
…” I started and coughed dryly. “What did she have on you?” I wiggled my fingers experimentally, but the tape held tight. I thought about the counter where Ariel’s pistol still lay, so near and yet so far. She had yet to remember. If she got drunk enough, maybe she never would.

She curled her lip. “Oh, you’d like to know, wouldn’t you? Well, why not? I guess I owe you that much.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Considering she was about to kill me, is that what she meant? “Why not tell me?” I urged. “After carrying around a secret like that all these years, it might make you feel better.”

“Some secret,” Ariel scoffed. “Joanie knew I was an alcoholic, even way back then. Mindy got me started on the stuff and kept me hooked on it and pills, too. That’s how she kept me in line. She was my supplier.”

It was imprudent, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “But after high school, Mindy was out of your life. Didn’t you ever try to get help?”

She attempted to focus on me with difficulty. “Three times,” she mourned. “The last time I thought it might stick. It had been more than eight months since I … but then this reunion nightmare happened, and Mindy demanded that we go with her. It all came back like one of those bad dreams where you’re trying to run through quicksand. She pulled that bottle out of her purse while we were sitting at a table, and a sort of red haze came over me. I felt doomed, just like back in high school. I didn’t have anyone to help me be strong. I never did.”

She lurched over to the counter and reclaimed her pistol as my heart sank.

“You have me, Ari,” Joanie said softly, surprising us both. “I know you didn’t kill Mindy. You’re scared to death of needles, you always have been. You’re the only person in the senior class who took the SATs rather than get a flu shot, so why would you use a hypodermic needle to kill Mindy when you have a perfectly good pistol? It doesn’t make sense.” She sat calmly, looking at her friend.

Ariel smiled crookedly.
“As if I ever had a reason to take the SATs anyway.
What for? Do they have a major in cosmetics and shopping at Princeton? No, you were the one who should have taken those tests, gone to college. You were always the smart one.”

Joanie actually blushed with pleasure. “Do you really think so, Ari?”

“I know so. So did Mindy. That’s why she always kept you on a short leash and made it a point to put you down every chance she got. If somebody tells you often enough that you’re dumb, eventually you come to believe it. No one knows that better than I do. My mother told me I was a stupid, lazy cow every day of my life. It took me more than thirty years to figure out it was because she was afraid I’d be competition for her,” she snorted, “like the losers she married were worth competing for.”

“She was jealous of you because you were so young and pretty,” I confirmed.

“
Were
being the operative word.”
Ariel stared at her aging image in the mirror. “My looks were all I had going for me. Now there’s nothing.”

Joanie and I exchanged looks of dawning comprehension.

“Ariel, why are you holding us here at gunpoint? Joanie and I know you didn’t kill Mindy, and I’m pretty sure the police won’t think so either. We just need to tell them the truth about what happened. You may have wanted to do it, but you didn’t.
 
Why would you want to hurt us? We’re on your side.”

“Holding you at gunpoint?” She looked at us blankly, then down at the gun in her hand. “No, no …” She took a few stumbling steps and dropped into a chair at the manicurist’s station. “This was just to get your attention, make you listen to me.”

“We would have listened to you without the gun,” Joanie said gently.

“Would you? I wonder. Anyway, it’s too late now. Everyone who was there that night will think I murdered Mindy when they find out about the sleeping pills I put in her punch, and the truth is
,
I would have killed her if I’d had the chance. I’m a murderer in my heart.”

“You don’t know that you would have done it,” I protested, alarmed now for a different reason.

“Oh, yes, I would have, and I would have taken pleasure in it that night. There are things you come to know about yourself, and I know I could have killed Mindy
Marchelewski
. I put the
Ambiens
into her punch, and I was ready to put more in. I wanted her to overdose.” Her grip tightened on the gun, and her eyes grew still glassier. Suddenly, I understood her real intentions here.
 
At the same moment I thought I heard the back door open and shut quietly. Ariel didn’t seem to notice, but a small whoosh of cold air around my ankles gave me hope. I tried not to look in the direction of the door and concentrated instead on Ariel.

“See, it doesn’t matter if I was actually the one to take that witch out of this world. The person who stuck her with that overdose did the rest of us a favor. I’m tired of carrying these feelings around with me. All those years, all that hate.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “I’m an alcoholic, a lousy addict, and I hated her. So let me take the rap.”

Something about the way she said
the person
put me on alert. “Ariel, do you know who actually killed Mindy?”

“I’m not positive, but yes, I think I do. I saw that paramedic’s face when he looked down at Mindy. Well, more power to him. I’ve got nothing left to live for, no husband,
no
kids. I’m stuck in a degrading job, and no matter how many hours I spend at the gym, I’m just another fading bimbo. A week from now, a younger, perkier model will be cooing over the customers while she exfoliates their Botox-
ed
faces. No one will miss me. Shit, I don’t even have a parakeet.”

“I’ll miss you,” said Joanie, tears spilling down her face now. “What would I do without my best friend?”

“Don’t do it, Ariel, please. Killing yourself won’t save Dave Engle. Harold King and I already figured it out, so put the gun down,” I pleaded.

“Harold?” Joanie snapped to attention, her eyes filled with questions.

“He’s probably confronting Dave right now,” I confirmed. “That’s where he was going when I left him more than an hour ago.”

Ariel looked from one to the other of us, then slumped back in her chair, looking, if possible, even more defeated.