Dead Ringer (22 page)

Happy to have a consuming project, Lucas changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. iPod fully charged, he started in. First, he backed out his car and parked it on the driveway. Next, he hauled out every article in all three closets, dumping them into rough piles to be sorted later. He swept the floors and cleaned the shelves. Finished with that phase, he stood back to admire his work, knowing it would be only a matter of weeks before it reverted to similar disarray. On the other hand, he’d find a lot of junk to be taken to the dump or recycled.

Then came the job of sorting the piles into new piles. He briefly considered using the lawn for one but figured it would be less damage to the grass to keep the junk destined for recycling or the dump on the concrete drive. Everything else went back on the shelves.

By noon Lucas was starving, so he drove to Subway for a twelve-inch turkey ham, came back, and ate it sitting on the grass next to the driveway. The job, he decided, was a good distraction, having put his mind in a better place than this morning.

It took the remainder of the afternoon to reorganize the closets. Finished, he reparked his car inside the garage. The junk pile in the driveway blocked Laura’s half of the garage, and would force her to park in the driveway or at the curb when she returned home. First thing in the morning, he’d use her Volvo to haul the crap away.

He was upstairs in the shower when he heard Laura come in. Butterflies stirred in his gut as he dried off. Maybe he should
start by inviting her out to dinner? She’d like that. Maybe go to one of their favorite places over at Fisherman’s Terminal.

Lucas caught up with her in the kitchen, gave a cheery, “Hi.”

“Hi.” She took a glass from a cupboard, filled it with cold tap water. She was wearing brown cargo pants and a beige safari-style shirt with epaulets, an outfit he hadn’t seen before.

“How was your day?” he asked.

Laura took a long drink of water, set the glass on the counter. “Fine,” she said, then started toward the hall.

He held up a hand. “Hold on a sec. I’m sorry I cancelled the trip, and I’m sorry we’re having this disagreement about Andy. And I’m sorry we’re at the point of seeing divorce lawyers.”

She sighed and seemed to slump into some sort of resignation. “We’ve disagreed about Andy from the day we married. That’s nothing new. And as far as cancelling the trip, that’s nothing new, either. How about the trip to Seaside you cancelled so you could bail him out of jail?”

Forget defending Andy, pal. Change the subject
. “Back to the vacation thing. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Laura straightened slightly and crossed her arms. “I already took care of that today.”

“You did? How?” Uneasiness burrowed into his gut.

“Carol and I are flying down to Cal-a-Vie for a week. We’re leaving Sunday.”

It took a second to register. “The spa? The one outside San Diego?” Carol was one of her friends she liked to go shopping with.

“That’s right.” She sounded testy now, as if to say, so what?

Lucas blew a long breath through pursed lips, trying to stay calm. Carol loved the place. To him, it seemed like one of
those Southern California existential marketing marvels that claimed to instill total wellness through interweaving spiritual with physical health, ionic transfers through skin pores with seaweed wraps or mud or some such thing. Massage, meditation, soaking tubs, aerobics, aroma therapy, salt scrubs. You name it; they provided it.

Not to mention it was expensive as hell. The figure seven thousand dollars per week popped into his mind. Plus airfare. Which, booked this late, would be more than horrendous. They didn’t have that kind of money to flit away on a whim. Or on vengeance.

Laura’s pose became more defiant. “What?” The word sounded like a direct challenge.

He knew better than to mention the cost. At least for now. At the moment, that was the least of his worries. “Guess I was hoping we could do something together.”

Hands on hips, she narrowed her eyes. “We were
supposed
to
do
something together. Go to Black Butte. Remember? But no, you chose to go play Bulldog Drummond instead. Answer me this. If you thought it really
was
Andy in Hong Kong, why didn’t you just turn it over to the police and let them handle it?”

Well, shit, we went over this, what, a hundred times?
“Honey, I explained that. I couldn’t be sure it really was him. Not with one-hundred percent certainty. And as soon as I found out he really was missing. I filed a report with the police. And as for notifying the Hong Kong authorities, what would they have done? Nothing. Especially since the supplier claims it wasn’t Andy’s head. So now the Seattle police are looking into it.”
Yeah, shit, for what that’s worth.

“And why did
you
,” Laura said, jabbing a finger at him, “have to be the one to file the report?”

Hard as Lucas tried to remain calm, her tone was getting to him, like a sliver under a fingernail. “We’ve been through this also. Who else was there to do it? No one. No one looks after him. I’m his closest friend. It was the right thing to do.”

“I think you did it because everything is always about
you
. Your career, your work schedule, your practice. You, you, you. I’m sick of it.”

“Okay, then, let’s talk about us for a moment. “I’m so sad about what’s happening to us. This divorce. Is there anything we can do to try to fix things?”

Laura’s shoulders sagged and she moved to the kitchen table and sat down. “I’m sad too, Lucas. Our marriage hasn’t turned out even close to what I imagined it would when we married. I even wish things were different. I really do, but they aren’t. You have your life that centers around your practice, and I have my life that centers around my friends. We just don’t have anything in common other than Josh, and he’s in the phase of his life where he’s moving away from us. So what is there left?”

“But what about the feelings we had for each other when we married? What happened to those?”

“We were younger then, Lucas. We saw life differently. We had dreams … they just don’t exist anymore.”

“Like what dreams?”

“A happy life together.”

With that she got up and walked out of the room, leaving with an empty sadness.

For a moment, Lucas sat there thinking about how sad their exchange made him feel. It also made the house seem small and foreign, like a place he didn’t belong anymore. He wanted some dinner and to have a drink, but there was nothing in the ice box and he didn’t want to have a drink and then have to drive somewhere.

When he went upstairs, the bedroom door was closed, so he went to the guest room, stuffed his wallet and keys into his pockets, and headed for his car.

T
WO BLOCKS FROM HIS
house Lucas curbed the Volvo, then slumped back against the seat, head against the rest. He massaged the muscle tension clamping both temples like a pipe wrench. The pressure was building to a pounding headache.

Shit
. Their conversation had gone completely sideways, not even close to what he’d intended. And now he sat here stewing in a toxic brew of sadness, depression, fatigue, and anger. Anger equally divided between Laura and himself. At Laura for booking the spa vacation just to spite him. At himself for having handled the situation poorly. But most of all, anger at having to defend himself for doing the right thing.

His headache was beginning to loosen up. He glanced around to see where he was and recognized the neighborhood.

Now what? Too soon to return home. They both needed time to cool off. The more he thought about it, maybe a week of massage and meditation might not be such a bad idea for Laura after all. It might just be worth the outrageous cost.

And as long as Lucas was totaling up injustices for the day, what about Elliott dropping the investigation? Frustration and anger started percolating through his gut again. He couldn’t let her do that. There had to be something he could do to keep it alive. On a whim, he picked up his cell phone.

He knew he needed to be extremely careful not to let his anger show through and piss her off.

A moment later Wendy answered.

He said, “Sorry to bother you this late in the day, but I’ve been thinking about Andy. Got a couple minutes to talk?”

“Sure,” she said, sounding noncommittal yet interested.

“Tell you what. I’m headed downtown and it’s getting late. If you’re not busy, may I buy you a bite to eat?”

“Actually, I’m almost home, and I really don’t feel like driving all the way back to town.” She hesitated, as if thinking something over. “To tell you the truth, dinner does sound good.” Another pause. “You willing to drive out to the north end?”

“No problem.”

“There’s an Olive Garden near Alderwood Mall. Why don’t you meet me there in, say, forty-five minutes?”

W
ENDY ELLIOTT WAS WAITING
in the vestibule when Lucas opened the cut-glass door. She wore tight denim hiphuggers, a black tank top that showed off well-toned biceps. She carried a lightweight black leather jacket over one shoulder. He fantasized a tattoo on the small of her back, maybe a butterfly or something symmetrical. She seemed the type, the tough sexy look all rolled into one package. And he was amazed to still find her incredibly attractive, especially seeing how this particular look wasn’t his preference. Until now. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? He’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d seen her.

“Table for two?” asked the hostess.

The hostess seated them, handed out menus, and asked for drink orders.

“Glass of chardonnay,” Wendy said.

“Why not make that a bottle,” Lucas added.

They started with small talk—the drive out, the weather, anything but Andy.

A waitress returned with their bottle of Kendall-Jackson and two glasses, poured, asked if they’d decided on their orders yet.

“I’ll take your chicken Caesar,” Wendy said without looking at the menu.

Lucas hadn’t looked, either. “A pepperoni pizza with mushrooms,” he said, figuring odds were they had it. The air smelled of garlic bread and olive oil, and the background clatter was loud enough he had to listen carefully to hear her.

The waitress departed, leaving them in awkward silence.

Lucas asked, “So what made you want to become a cop?”

Wendy took him through a bullet point life history. Growing up in Moses Lake and how, unlike her sister who attended Washington State University to major in pregnancy and now lived with three rug rats and a husband down the street from her parents, she had wanted to be elsewhere.

“I wanted out,” she said. “I wanted to get away from the blistering summers and small-town atmosphere. Solving mysteries intrigued me ever since I read my first Nancy Drew. Sounds silly, huh?”

He shook his head, fascinated. “No, not at all. Go on.”

“My parents used to limit the amount of TV we could watch. Thirty minutes a day. That was it. Didn’t matter if it
was the news or the Mariners. What happened was I ended up in my room reading most of the time.”

Wendy paused, smiling, a slight blush on her face. “Know what I’d do some Saturdays? I’d ride my bike to the post office and memorize mug shots. You know, the FBI’s most wanted. Then I’d spend the afternoon lurking around the mall playing undercover agent, checking out shoppers. Never caught one of the bad guys, but that wasn’t for lack of trying.

“A neighbor of ours was a K-9 officer.” She blushed again. “I was so conniving. It’s embarrassing now that I look back on it. I purposely made friends with his German shepherd so I could get to know him. Once I did that, I conned him into letting me ride with him on patrol. I’d ask questions about police work. I’d stay out as late as I could. He seemed to like having someone care about what he did and taught me a lot. Even now, one of my favorite TV shows is
Cops
.” She paused to sip wine.

“Senior year in high school I signed up for a stint with the army. Dad never said a word, but I know he would’ve preferred me to go air force. Thing was, the army said they’d guarantee me a spot in CID and the air force didn’t. Man, you should’ve seen it the day I told everyone what I’d done. We were all sitting at dinner when I dropped the bomb. Dad was so cool. He said he didn’t mind, just as long as I was happy. Not Sis. She couldn’t believe it. Thought it was unnatural or something. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to start a legacy of babies.
Legacy.
That was her exact word.” She laughed.

“Mom was totally disappointed. She came right out and asked why I didn’t want to do better. Become a nurse, or if law was really that important to me, become a lawyer. To this day
she still doesn’t get the difference between solving mysteries and practicing law. Mysteries are intrigue; law is flat-out boring. I can’t imagine sitting at a desk for hours poring over all the small print. Worse yet is criminal defense work. Spending all your energy trying to find ways to squirm some two-bit guilty loser out of taking responsibility for his actions. Look at the O.J. Simpson case. How can you justify that kind of crap?