Whirlwind (22 page)

“Thank you, Detective. If my father golfed with you, then you must’ve been important to him. He was very selective about the cops he’d take out on the links.”

Dad’s face appeared in my mind’s eye. “Most cops can’t slow down enough to enjoy the game,” he used to say. I gulped, trying to get rid of the baseball-sized lump in my throat. Forcing the conversation back to the present, I held my hand out to the detective. “May I please look at the photos? They might jog my memory about last night.”

Detective Clark took one more searching look at me and passed me the file. “This is strictly off the record, Ms. Williams,” he said.

“Absolutely.”

I was much more interested in clearing Jason of any suspicion than writing an article. I looked back at him before digging into the file. He’d recovered from the implied accusations, but I wasn’t sure if he was up for viewing photos of a dead body.

“You want to see if room service is here yet?” I asked, giving him an out.

“No, I’m fine,” he said bravely, then leaned down to my ear. “Thanks, though,” he whispered, and I opened the file.

The first glossy paper showed the body of Vanessa Trammell splayed out on the grass. I recognized her green satin dress, but one of her matching green shoes had fallen off. It sat on the ground nearby. Piled next to her was a gold scarf—what she must have been wearing in the parking lot. Her head was turned to the side, her pale hair pushed back to reveal her purple throat. Hanging limply on her shoulder was one end of a black bow tie.

I examined the photo carefully, noting the blotchy water stains on her clothes before moving on. The next shot was a close up of Ms. Trammell’s head. Her hair had been soaked, just like her dress, and was bunched into ringlets, some stuck to her forehead and ear. A few stringy locks clung to her neck, but the rest was fanned out on the grass. Her face looked undamaged, but her makeup was a streaky mess. As I inspected the numerous bruises around her neck, the questions multiplied in my mind.

“Detective, what was the approximate time of death?”

Officer Rodriguez cleared his throat loudly, and Detective Clark adjusted his tie before answering, still a little wary, I guessed. “The initial estimate is between midnight and three a.m.”

“The sprinklers came on at three?” I asked and looked up at the detective. The fog was damp, but the body had been soaked.

Officer Rodriguez’s mouth fell open.

“Yes. What else do you see?” Detective
Clark
asked with a proud smile.

“Well, looking at the bruising, it’s obvious she wasn’t strangled with the tie,” I said, pointing to the set of parallel purple lines below her ear.

The detective stroked his chin. “You share your father’s keen eye, I see.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I flipped through the other photos, most of them different views of the body.

“No DNA evidence?” Jason asked.

Detective
Clark
shook his head. “Not so far. We won’t know until the autopsy, but there are no obvious signs of sexual assault.”

“The sprinklers washed away the blood,” I murmured, my stomach churning. Only one faint stain remained near the hem of Vanessa Trammell’s dress.

Jason’s fingers curled into a tight fist next to me.

The next set of photos documented the ballroom. Racks of chairs separated the empty tables, and carts of dirty dishes lined the walls. My eyes were drawn to the frosting covering the plates. I flipped to another view showing the corner of the room where the cake had been.

“The cake cutting—that’s when he took the tie,” I said suddenly, turning to Jason. “You’d just put your tie in your jacket, and I set down my purse to help you with the button, then we went to watch them cut…” My voice trailed off. My purse had been left on the table while we watched Mitch and Ann. If Ron had searched the jacket, had he been through my purse too?

Detective
Clark
didn’t miss a beat. “Is your purse here, Ms. Williams?” I nodded slowly. “Can you get it? You’ll understand you need to touch it as little as possible. Rodriguez?”

“Fingerprint kit, right.” Officer Rodriguez headed out the door.

I numbly walked to the bedroom. My tiny purse was next to my bag, and I picked up the strap with two fingers and carried it to the living room.
I set it on the bar in front of Jason and Detective Clark.

“Have you handled anything in your purse since the cake cutting last night?” the detective asked.

“Only my car keys. They’re in the outside pocket. I don’t think I’ve even opened the main compartment since dinner,” I said.

“So you don’t know if anything’s missing?”

“No. There isn’t much in there.” As I ticked off the contents in my head, I froze.

Jason looked at me, voicing my thoughts. “Your ID is inside, isn’t it?” he whispered and wound his arms around me.

“My driver’s license…
MY MOTHER!”
I screamed. My license listed Mom’s address. Jason’s arms tightened as terror washed through me.

“Where does your mother live, Ms. Williams?” The detective handed me his small notebook and a pen.

My pulse took off double-time at the thought of Mom being in danger. “
San Jose
,” I said and quickly jotted down the address. It was only a six-hour drive from here.
Ron could already be there
. My hand flew toward my purse—and my cell phone. The detective caught me, causing the knots in my stomach to claw their way up my throat.

“Please, wait just a few minutes, Ms. Williams. Then you can have your purse back. I’ll call the San Jose PD right now.”

The shakes took over as I tried to get a handle on my fear. The thought of Ron anywhere near my mother…I couldn’t lose her too. “I have to warn her,” I cried, fighting back the helplessness that twisted in my gut.

Once again, Jason came to my rescue. “Use my phone, Melissa. Come on.”

Before he led me to the bedroom he glanced at the detective. He nodded, his phone pressed against his ear.

We entered the room and Jason’s face fell. His bedside table was empty. He scanned the room, muttering “Oh yeah” before releasing me and picking his pants up off the floor. He extracted his phone and handed it to me, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m sure she’s fine. Try not to worry,” he said, rubbing my back slowly. The doorbell rang again, and Jason released me. “I’ll give you some privacy, but I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, for everything,” I said, grateful for his calm presence. He caught my hand, kissed it, and stepped out, not quite closing the door behind him.

It took me two tries to dial the number, my fingers were shaking so hard. One ring…two…three…I chewed my lip harder with each unanswered jingle. By the time the answering machine picked up, I could taste blood.

Hearing Mom’s recorded voice, I panicked. “Mom, you need turn on the alarm—no, get out of the house and go next door to Kathy’s…then call me. Please, I need to talk to you. There’s a man who might be looking for me…he’s dangerous. Just call me from Kathy’s as soon as you get this message, Mom. I have to—”

Beeeep
.

The machine cut me off and hung up. I covered my mouth, swallowing back the fear.
It was just the timer
. I knew Mom hated long messages, but what if she
couldn’t
answer the phone?

I dialed frantically again, her cell this time. A writer for a West Coast travel magazine, Mom did most of her work from home, but her research took her all over. As I listened to more nerve-racking ringing, I tried to remember if she had any trips planned this week. She’d mentioned looking forward to seeing me, but I couldn’t remember her saying anything about going anywhere.

The ringing stopped with a business-like “Bev Williams.”

I nearly collapsed with relief. “Mom, it’s me.”

She definitely wasn’t at the house; noisy conversation filled the silence after my frantic greeting.

“Melissa? Where are you?” she asked.

I remembered I wasn’t calling from my phone, and for a split second I wondered what the area code for
Ann Arbor
,
Michigan
, was. As if I didn’t have enough to think about.

“I’m still in
L.A.
, heading up to Santa Lucia in a little while. I’m using my friend’s phone,” I explained.

“Your friend’s phone? Why? How was the wedding?” she asked. She sounded distracted.

“Um, my battery died. The wedding was fine. Where
are
you?” Far from home, I hoped.

The noise got louder. Her office was never this busy, especially not on a Sunday. But she was safe.

“Oh, I meant to call you from the car. I’m at the airport. This morning I got a call from Jack; he’s down with the flu and needs me to fill in at the Reno Rodeo, of all things. I’m about to jump on a plane. I’ll be there for a week, so you’ll have the house to yourself.”

Thank goodness
. “That’s great, Mom. Stay away from the business end of the horses, okay?” The knot in my throat finally dissolved.

She laughed. “You’re the expert. Hey, maybe you could come join me for a day or two. I’m supposed to have a big room, and I could really use your help getting the lowdown on the whole rodeo thing.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to calm my racing pulse. She was safe. There was no way Ron would know where she was.

My sense of humor even returned. “Only if I get credited, Mom. I thought there were rules about freelancers at the magazine.”

“I’ll have a talk with my editor and see what I can do. I’ll call you tonight. You’re coming home today, right?” She spoke quickly, and I heard a muffled “sorry” on her end. She must be about to board. The story of the murder would have to wait.

“Actually, Mom, I remembered a few things I have to do in Santa Lucia, so I’m going to stay down here a little while longer. I’ll give you a call before I head home.” The thought of hiding in my empty apartment, alone, sent a shiver down my spine.

There was one more thing I had to tell her. “Can you do me a favor, Mom? Please call me before you go back home, okay? Someone rifled through my purse, and I’m afraid they might have your address.”

“Melissa, how many times have I told you to keep your purse with you? Was anything stolen?” my mother scolded, reducing me to a five-year-old.

I rolled my eyes in response. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

A loud voice in the background called for group A to board the plane. “Have a safe trip, okay, Mom?” Once she was safely in
Reno
, I’d tell her what really happened.

“You too, honey. Be careful. I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” she said.

“Love you too, Mom.” I looked down at the phone and pressed
End
. Behind the numbers on Jason’s display was a photo of palm trees and sand—a memory of home, maybe? In the midst of all this chaos, it only reminded me how much I was going to miss him.

Adding insult to injury, the phone beeped and popped up a text:

AA 1624 will be departing at gate…

I closed the phone. There wasn’t any reason to read on; I’d already gotten the message: my time with Jason was almost up.

Shutting out my sorrow, I walked back to the living room. Jason met me with a plate of pancakes covered in strawberries. “You have a message,” I said.

“It can wait.” Jason pocketed his phone without looking at it. “Is your mom all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” I caught Detective Clark’s eye. “She’s boarding a flight to
Reno
as we speak. She’ll be gone for a week. The house is empty.”

He nodded. “SJPD will be keeping close tabs on her house, in case anyone suspicious shows up. Hopefully we’ll have a suspect in custody long before she gets home.” He turned back to the bar where Officer Rodriguez had emptied my purse and was busy coating the contents with fine black powder.

I sat down on the couch next to Jason and cautiously forked a strawberry. My stomach had quieted after learning Mom was all right, but eating didn’t seem very appealing.