Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (11 page)

“Did Courtney’s dance partner pay with a credit card?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t take his drink orders.”

After a quick search, Alec produced six small white slips of paper. “These have my server number on them. Should I put them in order according to the time they were paid?”

“Sure, thanks.” Jackson started to wonder if he was wasting his time.

Alec said, “This receipt has a time of 11:45 p.m.”

“Let me see the slip.” Jackson looked for a credit card number and found only the last four digits: 1075. He dug out Courtney’s purse and checked her credit card. The numbers matched. Now what?

Alec stared at the turquoise bag. “How did she die? Was it alcohol related?”

Was he feeling guilty about serving her?
“We don’t know yet. Do you know what cab service she used?”

“Baileys.” His expression darkened. “I just remembered her cab driver came in looking for her but Courtney was already gone. I didn’t think too much of it at the time.”

“She called a cab and left before it got here?”

Alec started blinking again. “I don’t know. I was busy serving drinks, not hanging out with her.”

“It’s okay. Do you have a number for Baileys cab service?”

“Jason has it behind the bar.”

Jackson handed Alec his business card. “I need the name of the guy she was dancing with. Ask around tonight when the crowd is here. If you get it, please call me. I don’t care if it’s two o’clock this morning.”

Jackson drank a second cup of coffee at the bar while he talked on the phone with the dispatcher at Bailey’s Taxi & Limo Service. She reported that Courtney Durham had called for service at 11:40 p.m. The driver, Stan Morris, had arrived at Diego’s around midnight. He’d called in to say his fare had not materialized, so he was free to take other service calls. Jackson asked for the driver’s contact information, then took a moment to put himself in Courtney’s shoes.

I’m drunk and ready to go home, so I call a cab. Then something happens. Like the cute guy I was dancing with asks me if I want to go to a party. So we take off together in his car, and I’m too drunk to think about canceling my cab
.

Was that even close?

Courtney had a steady boyfriend, or so her mother claimed, Jackson remembered. Maybe Courtney had gone outside for some fresh air while she waited for her cab, then something unexpected had happened. At midnight, on Monday, in Eugene? It seemed so unlikely.

Outside the building, Jackson scanned the businesses across the street, trying to determine if there was a potential witness out there somewhere. At midnight, none of the retail spaces on the block would have been open. If someone had assaulted or kidnapped Courtney while she waited out front for a cab, no one had seen it happen, unless they happened to be coming out of Diego’s right behind her.

Jackson checked the sidewalk to see if Courtney had dropped anything–like an earring–but it was surprisingly clean. He searched the alley on the way to his car, stopping to examine a few pieces of trash, and did a quick search of the parking lot. No missing earring, no missing cell phone, nothing that looked like blood. He would come back tomorrow with his team and crawl on all fours if the investigation demanded it.

Right now, he had to inform the family.

Elle Durham surprised him by moving in close, laying her head on his chest, and weeping silently. Jackson grudgingly put one hand on her back to comfort her. It was his policy—and the department’s preference—to not make physical contact with civilians while he was on the job. Especially women. Especially after two Eugene officers went to jail on multiple sexual assault charges.

After a minute, Elle stepped back. “Excuse me for a moment.” She headed to the office where they’d spoken yesterday. Instinct told Jackson to follow. Sometimes people were irrational in their grief.

Elle crossed the peach-colored room, dug into her purse for a prescription bottle, and downed a couple of pills. As Jackson started to ask what she was taking, she said, “It’s just a tranquilizer.”

“Can we sit and talk for a minute?”

She slumped into one of the padded chairs. Jackson took the other. Voice soft and trembling, Elle said, “I’ve worried about this for so long. Courtney is fearless and she took everything to an extreme. I suppose I should be relieved she died of an overdose instead of being murdered by some lunatic she picked up.”

“Why do you assume she died of an overdose?”

“You said there were no obvious wounds. Knowing Courtney, it seems like a foregone conclusion.” Elle cried as she talked.

“We don’t know yet how she died. The autopsy will give us more information. The toxicology reports will come in soon and tell us more still.” Jackson remembered the inhaler. “Did Courtney have asthma?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Her inhaler was under her body.”

“She mostly used it when she was outdoors. Often only in the spring when the temperature changed rapidly.” Elle rocked forward, grief consuming her. “Where is she now? I want to see her.”

“She’s in the basement of the hospital in an area called Surgery 10. We would like you to officially identify her body as soon as you’re able.”

Elle sat up straighter and dabbed at the makeup around her eyes. “Brooke will be crushed. Will you tell her?” She looked even more gaunt than he remembered.

“Yes, but first, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“Courtney’s last two days. She was missing for twenty-four hours and now she’s inexplicably dead. I have to treat this as a possible homicide until the pathologist tells me differently.”

“Did anybody even look for her?” A little flicker of anger surfaced.

“Detective Zapata put out an alert for her yesterday after you reported her missing. You went on television last night and notified the public. I was assigned her case this morning and spent the day investigating. We did everything we could in the little time we had.”

Elle was quiet for a moment. “Dean and I used to go out looking for Courtney when she was still in high school. Sometimes she would go to a party and not come home. We worried ourselves sick over it.” Elle’s faced crumpled again and she fought for control. She seemed to be aging in front of his eyes.

Jackson’s grimaced as he remembered his own daughter’s brief involvement with a group of promiscuous kids. “I’m sorry you had a hard time with Courtney. My daughter is fourteen and sometimes I’m terrified about her future.”

“There’s no point in worrying. Death gets everyone sooner or later.”

Elle looked so sad, Jackson wanted to comfort her again, but he had to push past all the emotions and get to work. If Courtney had been murdered, or even accidentally harmed by someone, the window of opportunity for finding that person was closing fast.

“Courtney was at Diego’s Monday night with a group of young women. Do you know who they were?”

“I told you this morning, I no longer try to keep track of her friends.”

Jackson looked back at his notes. “Have you ever seen her with a guy described as five-ten, very lean, longish blond hair, and nice face?”

Elle looked puzzled. “It sounds like Brett, only Brett’s hair is short. Who is this guy?”

“Someone Courtney was dancing with at Diego’s. Maybe the last person to see her alive.”

“You should ask Brooke about her friends. She would know more than I do.” Elle’s lower lip trembled. “Will you tell Brooke about Courtney? I don’t think I can without losing it again.”

“Is she here now?”

Just then a soft knock on the door interrupted them. A plump woman opened the door and said, “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Ursula. We won’t be eating right now. Will you cover everything and save it for later?”

“Of course.” The cook stayed in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

“Courtney’s dead, but I can’t talk about it now. After you put everything away, you can go home.”

Ursula’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry.” She started to say something else, changed her mind, and left.

Elle pulled her cell phone out of her purse and pressed a single number. A pause, then, “Would you come to my office please? It’s very important.” Another pause. “Now please. We’ll talk when you get here.”

Jackson couldn’t help but think about how cell phones had changed everyone’s lives. This woman no longer had to walk around her very large house to speak to family members.

A minute later Brooke breezed into the office, took one look at Jackson, and said, “What has Courtney done now?”

“Sit down, Brooke. Detective Jackson has something important to tell you.” Tears rolled down Elle’s face.

Brooke looked concerned but she didn’t sit. “What’s going on?”

“Someone found Courtney’s body today in the area behind Autzen Stadium. There’s no obvious sign of trauma, so we don’t know what happened to her yet. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

“Dear God.” Brooke looked stunned and grabbed for a chair. She plopped down and covered her face with her hands. Unlike Elle, Brooke cried noisily.

Jackson waited for her to get control. Finally, he said, “Brooke, I need to ask you some questions. I need to know about Courtney’s friends, her habits, who she might have known who lived in that area.”

Brooke looked over at her mother. “Can I have a Valium?” To Jackson, “How am I supposed to sit here and talk about her like nothing happened?”

“I know it’s difficult, but if Courtney was assaulted by someone, we need to investigate. We need your help.”

“You mean raped?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Was she naked when you found her?”

“No.” Jackson had to get control of the conversation. “Was there anything new in Courtney’s life? A change in behavior? A change in mood?”

Brooke glanced at her mother. “She had a decent boyfriend for a change. And she was partying less, but nothing major.”

“Do you know the names of the women she drank with at Diego’s on Monday?”

“No. I’d stopped going there a while back. Too sleazy for me.”

“Did Courtney have a friend who lived in the Autzen Stadium area?”

Tears rolled down her face as Brooke talked. “She used to party with some guy who lived farther down, closer to Springfield.”

“What’s his name and what does he look like?”

“I think his name is Zack. He’s blond, skinny, and about thirty. I saw him once at Diego’s.” A pause. “Months ago.”

Jackson felt a little tingle of possibility. Zack could be the guy Courtney was dancing with before she called the taxi. “Last name?”

“I don’t know.” Brooke reached to the desk for a tissue and blew her nose. “What do you think happened to her?”

“I really can’t speculate. When she left the house Monday night, did she say anything to you about her plans?”

“Just that she was going to Diego’s and would be home around midnight.”

“Were you close to Courtney?” Jackson kept his voice soft.

“Of course.” Brooke rushed to her mother, bursting into fresh tears as she kneeled next to the chair and hugged her.

Jackson gave them a moment. He had more questions and normally he would have interviewed them individually, but he wasn’t sure this was a murder investigation. Yet Danette’s disappearance twelve hours before Courtney’s nagged at him. It was very unusual for Eugene, a small city of about 140,000, and even unlikely for the larger metro area that included Springfield and other outlying towns. After a minute, he asked, “Do either of you know Danette Blake?”

Brooke kissed her mother’s forehead and turned to Jackson. “I don’t. Who is she?”

“A young woman who disappeared Monday morning.”

“That’s weird. Do you think there’s some connection?”

“I’m just looking at all the possibilities. Where would Courtney go after leaving Diego’s?”

“To a party, to a guy’s house, maybe to the all-night pancake place on Franklin for something to eat.” Brooke sighed. “Or to the coast, or maybe to Terwilliger Hot Springs. Courtney’s impulsive.”

Jackson jotted down the restaurant because it was the one place he could actually locate, walk into, and show her picture around. Anxious to talk to the boyfriend, Jackson decided to wrap up. “Is there anything either of you can tell me about Courtney that will help me determine where she was during the last twenty-four hours of her life?”

After a slight hesitation, Brooke said, “Courtney and Brett were fighting. If she was drunk, she might have called him to start an argument.”

Chapter 13

“What do we do if Danette never turns up?” Maggie asked the unthinkable as Kera grabbed her purse and got ready to go out. Maggie held the baby and looked distraught.

“It’s only been two days. We can’t think like that yet.”

“I know, but what if two days turns into two weeks, two months, two years? What do I do? Do I just go on with my life?”

Kera hugged Maggie around the shoulders, wishing there was more she could do. Not knowing the fate of your child would be the worst kind of torture. “Yes, you go on. Let’s give this some time. I’m making headway.”

Kera left the house feeling guilty about leaving Maggie with Micah again. Someone had to look for Danette though. She’d called Detective Zapata this morning and came away with the impression he thought there wasn’t much he could do. Later she’d received a message on Facebook from one of Danette’s friends who said she thought Chad worked at the Red Apple market on 6th Avenue.

Kera’s first stop was at the printers to pick up the posters she’d designed. Afterward, she would head to the market and see if she could determine Chad’s last name. She planned to go back to Danette’s house to finish looking around. Maybe if the police got called out to the duplex again they might realize how desperate she felt and start to help her.

The Red Apple was an old Safeway that had been converted to a neighborhood store catering to Latina shoppers. The interior was clean and bright and smelled like fajitas. Kera walked up to a young female cashier and asked to see the manager.

“She’s not here right now. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m looking for a young man named Chad. He’s tall and dark haired.”