Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (21 page)

I waited until the AME left in his car, then I hurried to her before she reached the building. “Susan?”

“Mari?” Her eyes startled.

“I thought that was you. I almost didn’t recognize you. When did you go blonde?”

She fingered her shoulder-length, bottle-blonde hair. “Oh, I just needed a change.”

“How are you? It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” Her eyes avoided mine.

“I’m so sorry about Theron. He’ll be missed.”

“Thank you. Even though we weren’t together … it still hurts.” She shifted her weight. “Are you visiting someone?”

“What?”

“At the hospital. Is someone sick?”

“Oh, no, I’m running an errand for Natasha.”

“How is she taking all this?”

“She’s devastated over the loss of her father and fortune.”

Susan looked away. “I had no idea we were legally married. I thought the lawyer filed the divorce papers. I’m as surprised as she is about being Theron’s heir.”

How about being on his insurance policy?

“Mari, tell Natasha I wish her no ill will. I didn’t even want the inheritance at first.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Well—” Susan pressed her pale, pink lips together. “Natasha did get the house and everything in it. She’s already wealthy and has her doctor husband to take care of her. I have nobody, and I’m struggling to pay the bills as a single mom.”

Guess that made sense, especially with two kids in college.

“What about Peter? I’m sure he still cares for you.”

“No, Peter and I are through. I hurt him so deeply I’m afraid he’d never want me back.”

“How do you know? When was the last time you really talked to him?”

“A woman knows how her ex-husband feels about her. Besides, it’s been months since I’ve seen him. That doesn’t seem like a man in pursuit of his ex.”

A month?

She glanced at her watch. “I should be going. I was called in to cover for a coworker.”

“So you’re a nurse. Finally finished your degree?”

“No, I’m a paramedic.” She shrugged. “I enjoy being out in the field instead of working in a stuffy hospital.”

That was strange. Susan used to prattle on and on about how she loved being a caretaker and anticipated nurturing her patients to health. She didn’t strike me as the patch-‘em-up-and-send-‘em-off type. My memory expanded. The woman with the gurney outside of the studio. It was Susan. “You were called to the scene when Henderson died, weren’t you?”

“Yes, if only I could have done something to save him.”

“I’m sure you tried your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.” She batted away invisible tears.

“Did you hear one of Henderson’s artifacts is missing?”

Susan reached into her purse for a tissue. “I’m sure they’ll turn up. The maid probably misplaced them while cleaning.” She wiped her nose.

Them? “I meant at the university.”

She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder, then checked her watch. “Oh, my. Maybe you can tell me about it another time. I’m running late.”

“Sure. Maybe this weekend if you feel up to it?”

“That would be nice. Call me at home. I’m in the book.”

As she hurried away, I didn’t recognize the woman who barreled through the glass doors. In a few short years, Susan Kipling Henderson had completely changed.

By the time I dropped the death certificate and Henderson’s remains at the mansion, it was almost 9:00. Not only did I miss dinner, but if I didn’t hurry I would miss tucking Ben and Hattie into bed. Before I started the Jeep, I retrieved Matt’s phone to call Hattie. The voicemail showed one of us had a message. I dialed, hoping it was from Jack.

“Hey, man. Just making sure we’re still on for tonight. Meet at the abandoned building on the corner of Vine and Spruce, 7:30 sharp. Don’t be late.”

My jaw clenched. If Matt wasn’t suspended and under house arrest who knows what he’d be doing. I dialed home.

Hattie fired off some jumbled complaint. Most likely against Matt. “Hattie, slow down.”

“Mooom, we’re starving. Matt’s supposed to cook dinner tonight, but he’s not in his room.”

“Did you check the rec room?” Jack called me crazy when I told him I wanted to build on a hill. I thought the walkout-man cave would be a great place for Matt to bring his friends. Problem was, he never brought his friends home. Matt’s phone message explained why.

“He’s not anywhere.”

I leaned into the steering wheel, pressing against the knot in my stomach. “Make sandwiches or something. Danny should be home soon. Call me if he’s not there in an hour.”

Then I floored the car and peeled out of the parking lot toward Vine and Spruce.

CHAPTER THIRTY

9:06 p.m.

LYNDON WASN’T A BIG town, but it had a dark side. One I always avoided until now. I should’ve been afraid to venture to this part of town alone at night, but my anger overrode my common sense. Matt was headed straight for Vine and Spruce. The intersection of Lyndon’s degradation.

As I drove in silence, darkness enveloped me, and it wasn’t because of all the broken streetlights. The atmosphere dripped with a thick fog of evil. I parked in front of an old, tan brick building on the corner of Vine, hoping I was wrong about the call, that I had misinterpreted the message, that Matt was someplace at home, sulking.

A decent-looking Honda sat parked around the corner. I labored toward the building as if my heels had turned to cement. My gaze volleyed back and forth at the broken beer bottles, cans, and debris littering the grass. Shattered windows dared me to enter. Colorful graffiti warned me to flee. My mind bleated danger, but the message wallowed in my gut, never reaching my feet.

I pushed at the splintered door. It let out a steady creak, a last caution. Standing in the doorway, I looked. Listened. It was too dark. Too quiet. My mouth trembled, wanting to whisper a prayer of help, but prayer never helped my mother. And the wickedness she experienced proved far more menacing.

Something scurried across the floor. I screamed. A mouse. So much for entering quietly. By the layout of the downstairs, it seemed to be an old apartment building. I wormed my way through the four modest-sized apartments, holding my breath each time I entered a room. Except for the debris and weeds, which sprung up through cracks in the floor and wall, every room was vacant.

I tiptoed up the crumbling, cement steps, drawing my arms in close. Rubble caught in my pumps, stabbing my feet, but I didn’t stop to remove it. I needed to find Matt. Stains splattered the walls like an impressionist painting. Blue, brown, red. I didn’t even want to guess what they were. Ancient words echoed in my mind. Words my mother had prayed again and again as she took a beating. I pushed the prayers from my mind, but they wouldn’t budge, so I gave in, surprised when they flowed from my mouth with ease.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Calm trickled on me like a gentle rain. I hugged my belly, hoping God would loose a storm of peace to help drown my remaining apprehension. I peered into the first room on the second floor. An old, stained mattress and propane lantern filled the small space littered with beer cans. Clouds of emotion descended. Maternal guilt surfaced.

“Matt, I’m so sorry. I failed to protect you from this.” I kicked a glass tube. It rattled across the floor. Tears flooded my vision. “I failed you as a sister, and a mother. I wanted so much more for you.” I shuffled into the next room, holding my breath. It was empty. “God, if you really are as loving and caring as Elizabeth says you are, let Matt be okay.”

My stomach cramped as I approached the last room in the building. Terrifying thoughts of what I might find bombarded me. I peeked inside the room and sobbed uncontrollably. Like my soul, it too was empty.

A tremulous sigh pushed past my lips. I headed toward the stairs, but noticed another set of steps leading up. Anxiety rushed through my body, but I stayed on course, trudging upward one step at a time. I reached the top. An attic apartment. A cool breeze swept across the room from the broken window. I shuffled through each room. One agonizing step after the other. Each room empty. One more to go. The bathroom. I pushed one leaden foot in front of the other. Moonlight spilled through the window shining light on something hanging over the edge of the tub. I inched closer and focused on a … shoe. I gasped.

It was attached to a lifeless body.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

9:19 p.m.

A WAIL ESCAPED AS I shielded my face, my head shaking violently at the body in the tub. “Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no … nooooo.” Blue, lifeless eyes leered at me. Eyes that were once living. Eyes I had looked into today.

Eyes that weren’t Matt’s.

But that didn’t calm my frantic heart. Shudders seized my body. I shrunk back, hitting the wall. Something crashed to the floor, echoing in the muted night. Insect legs scurried across my neck. Screaming, I shook it off and two-stepped. My foot landed on something long and slender, then twisted on the rolling object. My ankle burned with pain. I reached out to steady myself, grabbing the bathroom sink. Thick, slimy gunk clung to my hand. I shrieked, tried to fling it off, but it stuck. I wiped the filth on my grey pants and dry heaved into the sink.

Maybe if I had gotten here earlier, I could have helped. I stared at the AME as cold as the body on his autopsy table. No, it was too late. I was always too late.

With my sleeve, I dried my mouth and limped backward toward the bathroom door, my eyes transfixed on the body. My emotions dry. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t cry.

Matt’s phone rang. I jumped, slamming into the bathroom door. Something within shifted. Sobs racked my body. I answered the phone, my hands shaking. “Officer Taylor?” I tried to steady my breathing, but it came out in thick chunks.

“Mrs. Duggins, I’m glad we got a hold of you. Are you all right?”

“No … I’m at the corner of Vine … and Spruce. In an a-a-abandoned building.” Oxygen swooshed in and out. “Why are you calling me?”

“You’re where?”

“Vine and Spruce. The abandoned building on the corner.”

“What are you doing there? We just had a squad car there—”

“Hurry quick. He might still be a-a-alive.”

“Are you in danger? Is anyone with you?”

I glanced at Brian Farlow, the Assistant Medical Examiner again. A rubber tourniquet tied on his arm. A needle in his hand. I turned away. There was nothing anyone could do for him anymore. I knew death, and it had sucked the life from this man I had met only hours earlier.

“I think I’m going to be sick again.” Bile rocketed and spewed on the wooden cane I had tripped on. I hurried through the attic apartment toward the stairs.

Why did everyone around me end up dead?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

9:58 p.m.

UNLIKE FEAR’S SUCKER PUNCH to the gut at the abandoned building, rage steeped, growing stronger with each harried step I took toward Lyndon Police Station. Gratitude for Matt’s life, that he escaped unharmed from that vile place, filled the tiny space anger had not yet consumed, but that niche was closing quickly. A part of me wanted to hug him, lock him in his room, and ground him for eternity. The other part of me wanted to slip my hands around his teenage neck and squeeze.

“Don’t be too hard on the boy. He’s really a good kid.” Officer Taylor held the door open, my Lancelot on this godforsaken evening. “A little misguided, but I think we got him in time. Remember go easy, he’s had a rough night.”

“
He’s
had a rough night?” I shook my head as I followed Officer Taylor into the lobby. “Well, it’s about to get tougher. I don’t get it. How could I have missed the signs? Why didn’t I know Matt was smoking pot?”

Officer Taylor laid a meaty hand on my shoulder. His fingernails still encrusted with dirt, yet warmth trickled through my body, dissolving my tension.

“I hate to sound cliché, but parents are usually the last to know. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I forced a smile at the female officer sitting at the counter behind the glass.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“No, thanks. I’m waiting for Officer Taylor.”

“Please have a seat.” She pointed to the vinyl chairs in the waiting room.

I sat against the stiff cushion, shifting to find a comfortable position. If I’d been in the Ritz Carlton hotel lobby, I still couldn’t have relaxed. How could Matt do this? He was already suspended from school, now arrested? Not only would Matt’s reputation be tarnished, but his recklessness would reflect on the entire family. He’d be forever labeled a druggie and criminal.

Ten minutes later Officer Taylor waltzed in. I met him half way. “How is he?”

“Scared out of his wits. Booking really did a number on him.”

“What?” My knees buckled.

“Don’t worry, it was all psychological. We fingerprinted him with old-fashioned ink and painted a real ugly picture of the path he’s headed. Hope to knock some sense into his thick head.”

“I don’t understand how this could happen. He was a straight A student at Lyndon High and barely passing at Winton.”

“Drugs are everywhere, not only in public schools.” Officer Taylor crossed his arms.

“I moved him to Winton Preparatory School so he’d get away from his old friends and the drugs in that school.” I raised my eyebrows. “You think he got marijuana from kids at his new school?”

“Can’t say for sure. Matt’s being tight-lipped about the whole thing, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Especially if you say his grades dropped after he got to Winton.”

“Mr. Fielding told me he was hanging around with his old friends. I assumed ... I saw Matt pulling away. I thought he was having trouble adjusting to the divorce, and needed space.”