Lisa Lutz Spellman Series E-Book Box Set: The Spellman Files, Curse of the Spellmans, Revenge of the Spellmans, The Spellmans Strike Again (64 page)

E
ven after my sister’s e-mail deceptions were exposed, she did not give up on pushing her disappearance agenda on my parents. Rather than play each side of the coin, she brought the two sides together and suggested they try something simpler. Rae went online and found a four-star spa resort in Big Sur, California. No planes, boats, or extended car rides required. They could arrive at their destination within two hours and live in the lap of luxury for three days. My parents agreed and Rae booked the rooms for that weekend.

My parents, not to be outwitted by their almost-sixteen-year-old daughter, made certain that their disappearance did not have the beneficial by-product of an adult-free weekend for Rae. My mother, after discovering David’s return to the city, insisted that he stay at the house for the weekend with his youngest sibling. David, still tormented by whatever he had done, welcomed the escape from his own home.

I phoned Petra yet again, and two days later the call was still unreturned. I then sent her another e-mail, which received an auto-reply that she would be out of communication for the next week. Had there been no other mysteries on my agenda, I would have flown to Arizona to track her down. When I questioned David on the subject, he claimed he had no idea of her whereabouts. His direct but depressed eye contact indicated that he was telling the truth.

Thursday, April 20
1730 hrs

Perhaps it was all the dead ends that prompted the next phase of my investigation, but it occurred to me that Subject’s profession might have provided him the ultimate cover-up. With dozens of gardens, soil, shovels, and acres of land in his evil but capable hands, how hard would it be to dispose of the bodies? Did I truly believe Subject was a murderer? I wasn’t sure of anything, but I did know that women had disappeared. They had to be somewhere.

During the past week, I had shadowed Subject after the fact, arriving at his gardens late at night with a flashlight and a shovel. I searched for areas of fresh soil that somehow appeared out of place in the landscape. Had I any actual knowledge of gardening, it probably would have been easier for me to spot the incongruities. That said, I probably dug at least a dozen holes in half as many gardens that week.

When I returned to Henry’s place, I would change clothes in the backseat of my car, which is something I’m oddly adept at. If Henry saw the dirt, he would be suspicious. Unfortunately, one night, Henry was returning home as I was in the middle of a car change. He approached the window as I was buttoning up my pants. I opened the door, just a crack.

“Can I have some privacy, please?” I shouted.

Henry backed away. I could tell from his expression that he was going to require an explanation. Sometimes in cases such as this, the simplest answer is the best, even if it doesn’t make any sense.

“What were you doing in your backseat?” Henry asked, after I exited the vehicle.

“Changing my clothes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t like what I was wearing.”

A sigh, followed by silence. Henry unlocked the front door.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied, glad to have him off the subject of my clothes.

“Please stop telling the neighbors that you’re my life coach.”

“I had to tell them something. They were looking at me funny.”

“Now they’re looking at me funny,” Henry said. “Why don’t you just tell them you’re my friend?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I replied. Sometimes the simplest truths escape me. Like the phone call that happened the following day. If I had really been paying attention, I would have realized it was not a friendly invitation.

Friday, April 21
1800 hrs

“Hello,” I answered on the third ring.

“Meet me at Twin Peaks in forty minutes.”

“Who is this?” I asked.

“I think you know,” Subject replied.

Thirty minutes later, I was winding up the foggy road to the highest point in the city. I stood where one can usually see the most spectacular view of San Francisco and the bay on a clear night. However, it was not a clear night. The fog had rolled in early and heavily and the visibility from the lookout point was no more than twenty feet.

I was alone in the dark. I could see green hills behind me and gray matter in front of me, blocking any view at all of the city lights. The sound of life was faraway. When Subject appeared out of what looked like a cloud, a rush of fear came through me.

“I’ve got a lot of unhappy customers,” Subject said. His tone was casual. Too casual to be followed up by, say, murder, so my nerves eased.

“Why are they unhappy?” I asked.

“Someone’s digging up their gardens in the middle of the night.”

“Sure it’s not raccoons?”

“I’m sure.”

“Maybe some other kind of wildlife. I’m not really an expert on that sort of thing.”

“What are you looking for?”

“The bodies,” I said.

“Isabel, you are making a huge mistake.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

“What will it take?”

“Huh?” I said.

“What will it take to get you to leave me alone?”

I heard the engine of a car pulling into a nearby parking space. The lights broke through the fog. I welcomed the company, whoever it was.

“The truth. That’s all I need. And, of course, you would have to go to prison to answer for your crimes.”

“Isabel, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“
I’m
not doing anything. I’m just trying to find out what you’re doing.”

“Your father said you’d stop if I filed the restraining order.”

“My father doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.”

“What do you want from me?” Subject asked.

“Your social security number.”

Subject picked up his cell phone and dialed. “Okay,” he said into the receiver.

I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out the hand he was playing. But it was too late. Two men in suits also appeared out of thin air. Plain clothes, my ass. You can always spot a police officer.

“I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done,” I said as I was handcuffed for the fourth time in two months.

“Isabel Spellman, you are under arrest for violating the TRO filed by Mr. John Brown.”

“That’s not his name.”

Subject thanked the officers and departed without another word. The cuffs were cold from the night air. The plumper cop Mirandized me as he guided me over to the unmarked vehicle.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”

Arrest #2 (or 4)

MOM
: We’re already on the road, dear. I’m not canceling our disappearance to bail you out of jail.

ME
: Oh, I forgot about the disappearance.

MOM
: You’re on your own, sweetie.

ME
: No, Mom! You’ve got to call someone to get me out of here. I don’t want to spend the night in this place.

MOM
: That might be a good idea. Remember
Scared Straight!
?

ME
: Of course I remember it. You made me watch it at least ten times in high school.

MOM
: A lot of good it did.

ME
: Listen, call Morty again. Call until he picks up the phone. He’s home. He just can’t hear it.

MOM
: I don’t think he should be driving at night.

ME
: Mom, please.

MOM
: Or during the day, for that matter.

OFFICER LINDLEY
: Spellman, can you hurry this up?

ME
: I got to go. Just make sure someone gets me out of here.

MOM
: I’ll do my best. See you on Monday, Isabel.

ME
: Have a nice disappearance.

2300 hrs

Morty drove me to Henry’s house, where I assumed I was no longer welcome. We had a deal and I broke it. I also correctly assumed that my mother had already broken the news to him about my fourth arrest.

I reminded Morty to drive safely and we arranged to meet at the courthouse on Monday for my arraignment. As I got out of the car, Morty said, “Izzele, let’s make this your final arrest of the year.”

“Why not?” I replied unconvincingly.

I knocked on Henry’s door, bracing myself for an onslaught of insults and reprimands. He stepped outside when he saw me and mumbled in my ear, “Let me do the talking.”

“Okay,” I replied.

Henry took my arm and lightly shoved me into his house.

“Isabel, where have you been?” he said, sounding like an actor on a sitcom.

“In jail,” I replied, and then I saw her. My complete opposite sitting on Henry’s couch, drinking what had to be herbal tea.

She was well groomed and pretty in that way that being excessively well groomed can make you pretty. She had figured out precisely what she had to do to herself to be attractive. Based on the highlights in her hair and the unmistakable hue of a spray-on tan, it came with a steep price tag. She smiled unconvincingly, got to her feet, and shook my hand while Henry made his inadequate introduction.

“Isabel, this is my ex-wife, Helen.”

“Technically, we’re still married,” she replied.

“I just signed the papers,” Henry interjected.

“But they haven’t been filed,” she retorted.

“Do you two need to talk in private?” I asked.

“No,” they both replied in unison.

Helen looked me up and down, an assessment to serve her own ego. It had been a long day, and even a few hours in a holding cell can land a week’s worth of grime on your clothes. I’m sure it served her ego very well.

“So, Isabel, how is it that you and Henry know each other?”

I remembered Henry’s “let me do the talking” warning, but I ignored it.

“I’m Henry’s life coach,” I said.

Henry put his arm around my waist and squeezed, rather hard. “Always such a kidder.”

It was only then, with Henry’s arm around my waist, that I realized he was trying to pass me off as his girlfriend.

“I need a drink,” I said, heading over to the refrigerator.

“Thanks for dropping by, Helen. If you don’t mind, Isabel has had a very busy day and I would really like to hear about it.”

“Of course, it’s getting late,” Helen replied. She offered me a fake smile and said, “Isabel, it has been a pleasure.”

“Sure you can’t stay for a drink?” I asked, realizing that her departure would allow Henry to speak freely.

“No,” Henry interrupted. “She has to go.”

Helen kissed Henry on the cheek, letting her hand linger suggestively on his.

“Be well,” she said theatrically. When she was finally out the door, Henry dropped his fake smile and glared at me.

“What was that, arrest number four?” he asked.

“I’m not counting two and three.”

“We had a deal.”

“Let me finish this beer and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Where will you go?”

“There’s this bus bench around the corner that I’ve had my eye on.”

“You’re not serious.”

“No. I might sneak into my parents’ house, since they’re out of town. Keep an eye on Rae.”

“David is staying there.”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, internally calculating a different plan.

“Your mother wanted me to remind you to stay away from the neighborhood and the neighbor.”

“He entrapped me.”

“What?”

“The last arrest was a trap. He told me to meet him at Twin Peaks. He asked what it would take to get me to leave him alone. He had the cops on hand if he didn’t like my answer. He didn’t like my answer.”

“Why can’t you stop?”

“Because innocent people don’t keep secrets like that. They just don’t. I’ll pack my things.”

“No.”

“I agreed to your terms. Besides, I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“Forget my terms. I knew you wouldn’t listen to me anyway. Just stay. At least when you’re here, I have some idea what you’re up to.”

I settled into his couch and transitioned the topic of conversation off of me. “So, that was your wife,” I said.

“Ex-wife,” Henry replied, and I could tell from his tone that the discussion was over.

I fell asleep long after midnight, my mind twisting around the day’s events. I drifted off to sleep with a certain resolve. This case wasn’t over. I just wouldn’t get caught again.