Iced Malice Page 4

  “When I talked to her, she even started crying,” Kendall said. “Supposedly, she wanted to know when she would die because she wanted to get her will and finances in order.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something a happy person would want to do, especially not when a close relative has come home.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Kendall said. “Brynn will talk to her when she gets back. I’ll call you after she does.”

  “Good. I should have time next week to stop in and see her again. I’ll try to drop in when her grandson is there, and see if he knows what’s troubling her.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your help. You might want to hold back on what you tell him until you get a feel for what’s going on.”

  “Don’t worry, detective. I can sniff out a bad situation from fifty yards out.”

  8

  Brynn pulled her suitcase into the apartment and took a moment to admire the stained glass panel of her front door. Vandals had nearly destroyed it not long ago, but the craftswoman who restored it did a flawless job.

  She gazed over her apartment—the antiques, the small corner she’d arranged for her fortunetelling, the second bedroom that held her computer equipment, and her teapot and cup collection in the tiny kitchen. Her decor wasn’t fancy, but it meant the world to Brynn to have her own place.

  The South American cruise she took with her mother was an attempt at a normal relationship. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it worked. Brynn hated the sun; because of her albinism she had to hide from it constantly. Bored, she grudgingly learned to play bridge, her mother’s passion and the purpose of the cruise for Eileen Zellman. The game Brynn had considered an obsessive one for people over fifty had hooked her.

  She walked over to the small table in the nook by the tall windows facing the bluff. The cards were still laid out where Kendall had spread them for Mrs. Lindblad. Brynn looked them over and recalled Kendall’s last message:

  Brynn,

  Saved the card layout for u and left the lady’s phone number. She’s very upset about something, but wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I gave her ur usual spiel. It didn’t seem to help. Said u’d call her.

  K

  Brynn sighed. The cards weren’t saying “the usual.” Far from it. She pulled off the long-haired white wig she had worn on the trip home and ran her fingers through her short, white hair.

  Kendall came home and saw that the cat carrier and litter box weren’t in place. Brynn must have come back earlier in the day. There was no light on in Brynn’s apartment, so she must have gone to bed early. Kendall’s relationship with the girl had improved when she took advantage of Brynn’s computer skills to help find a missing child, but Brynn still had her closed-off moments. They had developed a friendship of sorts, albeit an unusual one.

  She wasn’t looking forward to discussing Nash. Brynn had already gone on the cruise before he left for the job in Milwaukee, but she’d been here for his send-off party.

  No one knew how hard it had been to say goodbye to him with a smile, tell him she loved him, and not resent his need to work an undercover job in a large city. Kendall had known it was his dream and had even encouraged him, but she hadn’t expected it to happen this fast, and under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have. One of the other detectives had dropped out shortly before the job was due to begin. Nash got in because he had experience, was free to go, and had the advantage of being a new face; he left eight days after he got the offer.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She opened the door to Brynn, suddenly realizing she had missed the girl. She reached for her and hugged her, ignoring Brynn’s dislike of being touched.

  Brynn pulled away. “Hi. I got back a few hours ago.”

  Kendall wondered if this would be one of Brynn’s quiet days or if she’d be open to talking. “It’s good to see you. Did you have fun?”

  Brynn plopped down on the couch. “Not at first.”

  “What changed?”

  “I was so bored that I let Eileen talk me into going to a beginner’s bridge class.” Brynn had recently begun calling her mother by her first name. “After I had a few lessons they let me play. It was something to do.”

  “I thought you hated bridge. Are you going to go to the games here?”

  “I don’t know. I liked playing it on the ship, but all the people who play here are so old.”

  “What’s wrong with that? It’s the game that counts. It wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

  “It’s only fun if you have a good partner. I had one on the cruise; he’s ninety and used to be a veterinarian. I showed him pictures of Malkin. He said he might come here sometime when they have a tournament and he would be my partner again. Maybe you could learn how and then we could play together.”

  Kendall was impressed. Not only that Brynn had learned her mother’s card game, but also that she’d just spoken more than two sentences. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know about going to classes, though. Couldn’t you teach me?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll ask Eileen about it.”

  Kendall wasn’t big on card games, but grudgingly said, “Sure, whatever works. Did you have a chance to look at the reading I left laid out?”

  Brynn shrugged.

  “Well, what did you think? All I told her was that it wasn’t exact and she should get things in order just in case.”

  “It wasn’t good,” Brynn said, nearly whispering.

  “Maybe I did it wrong.”

  “You did. I’ll call her and have her come over and do a real reading.”

  “How bad was it?”

  Brynn simply shrugged again and Kendall knew it was futile to ask her for more on the subject; she was finished talking. But was she even going to mention Ryan? Kendall was curious whether she had kept in touch with Nash’s son Ryan, but she hated to bring it up for fear it would lead to talking about his father. She wasn’t ready to discuss Nash with Brynn, but it might be easier to just tell Brynn what happened and be done with it.

  “Did you hear that Nash left?” Kendall asked.

  Brynn fidgeted with her jacket.

  “It’s all right,” Kendall said. “He’s doing something he’s always wanted to do, and I want him to be happy.”

  Brynn stood to leave. Kendall should have known a personal discussion would drive Brynn back to her own apartment. As she opened the door for her, Brynn said, “What about you, shouldn’t you be happy, too?”

  9

  Detective Ross Alverson slid into the farthest booth of the dark bar, a place frequented by lovers and cheaters, and known for its dim lighting and extravagant ice cream drinks. At this hour, the place would be acceptably empty, a nice setting to meet with Courtney Jorstad without being seen and also be quiet enough to talk. He hoped, however, she wouldn’t get the wrong idea and think he would be trying to put the moves on her. She couldn’t be more than eighteen years old, if that. At twenty-nine, older women were Ross’s preference; they were much better lovers.

  Courtney came in on the dot of seven as agreed and squeezed into her side of the booth. He hadn’t considered it might be awkward for her, but it was too late to ask if she’d be more comfortable at a table.

  “Hi. I’m so glad you agreed to talk to me.” Her cheeks were red from the cold as she unwound a long, knit scarf from her neck and slipped out of a puffy, down coat that added at least one more size to her queen-sized shape. Her sweater matched the color of her cheeks, and her dark hair hung to the middle of her back, the top braided and pulled back with a tortoise-shell barrette. He couldn’t deny she was an attractive girl. Her perfume, light and airy, filled the space between them.

  “Those Fiancé Murders were an interesting case,” he said. “They happened before my time, though, but I have the phone number of a retired detective who’s willing to talk to you about it. He had a buddy on the force in Menomonie who worked the disappearances there. Hank was in on the beginning of the investigation because the first
girl was from Eau Claire.”

  Courtney’s eyes widened. “That’s just it—Eau Claire was the connection among the three cases. The couple who disappeared in Menomonie was from Eau Claire before they went to school in Menomonie, and in the other two cases, the boys were from here.”

  “Right,” Ross agreed. She’d obviously given it a lot of thought. “But that’s a thin connection. None of them were living here in Eau Claire when they disappeared.”

  “There weren’t any other similarities, though.”

  “That doesn’t give it any more importance.”

  “Well, maybe whoever killed them lived here in Eau Claire, knew the ones who had lived here, and had a grudge for some reason.”

  “I’m pretty sure at the time they checked out everything possible on the Eau Claire angle,” Ross said. “You must know that there were a lot of people who thought the three cases weren’t even connected.”

  “Yes, I saw that somewhere. I don’t believe that, though, do you?”

  “I’m not sure. The media made a big thing about the cases being related because the couples were engaged to be married, but the second two couples really weren’t.”

  “They might not have been formally engaged, but they were planning on getting married,” Courtney argued.

  “And your source on that?”

  She blushed.

  “Online blogs and newspapers, right?”

  Courtney appeared about to answer when Alverson looked up and saw Hank Whitehouse, retired Eau Claire detective, standing next to their table. “Mind if I crash the party?”

  Ross had called Hank to get the okay to give Courtney his phone number; he never should have mentioned that he was meeting her here tonight. It was just like Hank to show up unannounced. The guy was bored with his part-time security job and looking for an excuse to be in on anything even remotely connected to an investigation.

  Hank slid into the booth next to Courtney and introduced himself. “What’s the matter, you two didn’t order one of those frou-frou drinks they serve here?” He called a waitress over and she flopped four-page-long drink menus in front of them. Hank picked one up. “Wow, look at these things. Don’t think any of ‘em are on my heart-healthy diet.”

  Ross ordered a beer.

  Hank perused the drink menu. “My cardiologist told me that a heart-healthy diet is simple—if it tastes good, spit it out.” He chuckled at his joke and turned to Courtney who had ordered a diet coke. “How about we split one of these? Half couldn’t do too much damage, you think? You’d be doing me a favor.” Before she could answer, her told the waitress, “Give us a grasshopper with two spoons and an extra glass.” He winked at Courtney. “You can watch your figure tomorrow.”

  Ross thought that was what every woman he’d ever dated said before indulging—“I’m starting a diet tomorrow.” Courtney should be starting one today, but then Hank hadn’t given her a chance to protest. It was none of Ross’s business what she did, but he noticed she didn’t say no to Hank’s offer, a wise move since Hank would have ignored it.

  After the waitress left, Ross said, “We were just talking about how the media were the ones that promoted the fact that the three disappearances were related. What was your take on it?”

  “I didn’t have much to do with the second two,” Hank answered. “But Pete Jasecki and I talked about them a lot. The second couple, the ones from Osseo, were a little older, and according to their friends, they weren’t planning on getting married anytime soon. The girl’s friends said she wanted to, but the boyfriend wanted to finish college first.

  “The third couple, from Bloomer, really didn’t fit at all. Not in my opinion. There was a drug connection, but the media played it down big-time, of course. The boy had been supplying the area with weed and coke for about a year. The girl made some of his deliveries to the small towns surrounding Bloomer under the guise of her Avon sales.” Hank snorted. “Not like she ever sold much of the Avon stuff.”

  “You know what that means,” Ross said to Courtney. “Something could have gone wrong relating to their ‘business’ and they had to leave town in a hurry, or they pulled something on the wrong partners and were eliminated.”

  They were interrupted when the waitress arrived with their orders. The large ice cream-sundae type drink she sat in front of Hank formed a mint-green tower six inches above the rim of the glass. Hank handed Courtney the empty glass and the extra spoon the waitress had set down with the drink. “Take what you want or else dig right in. And don’t be shy. I eat fast.”

  After every drop had disappeared, the discussion continued, debating connections and even motive. Courtney listened to the two men with rapt attention, then asked, “But if the couple from Bloomer were killed because of a drug connection, why didn’t their bodies show up?”

  “Smart girl,” Hank said. “You’re right. The drug folks aren’t usually timid about displaying their wetwork.”

  10

  The party, planned by the few stragglers left in the frat house during spring break, was supposed to give those not able to afford Cancun or Fort Lauderdale a way to celebrate despite being stuck in Eau Claire. Being left behind was bad enough, but the area residents were experiencing the worst March in ninety years.

  The consolation event was in full swing—the house crammed with bodies before its hosts had even finished setting up the keg or dishing out the snacks.

  Karla Foley, helping with food detail, took stock of the male attendees. After close inspection, it looked like all the hot guys had absconded to a warmer clime. Just her luck. She resented her boyfriend Jared’s desertion. He’d gone to the Padre Islands with his friends, and Karla had fumed when one of them let it slip that two girls from Stout University had been included, supposedly to help cover the cost of the giant motorhome they rented. Karla’s budget couldn’t handle even a weekend away from school, and she couldn’t risk losing her job at Perkins where the tips alone practically covered her tuition.

  When she finally spotted a candidate worth using to get even with Jared, it was nearly midnight. The guy was tall, with the kind of body Karla went for, obviously in good shape but not overly muscular. After following his movements for a while, it became evident that the redhead he was dancing with was either his date or had glommed onto him earlier in the revelry. Probably when Karla was busy setting out the plates and napkins for the massive sheet cake whose heavy frosting was topped with We Survived the Winter of 2014 in garish, neon-green Gothic lettering.

  When the redhead left for the nearest bathroom, Karla moved in and handed the guy a double-sized piece of cake.

  “What did I do to earn this kind of service?” He grinned and accepted the offering. “Nice piece.”

  Karla didn’t comment on the double entendre, satisfied that he was playing along. She handed him a fork and held up one of her own. “It’s big enough to share,” she said seductively. If he’d brought the redhead with him to the party, this would be the moment when he would back off.

  He held the cake in front of his chest, dipped his fork into it and took a giant bite. “Tasty,” he said, licking his lips meaningfully.

  Karla reached up and ran a finger across his bottom lip. “You missed a spot,” she whispered, her lips to his ear.

  From that point on, she had him. Fortunately, Karla had walked over to the party from her apartment only four blocks away and wasn’t encumbered with her own car. When he whispered they should go somewhere more private, Karla grabbed her coat and followed him out, eagerly taking the seat next to his in a shiny red Jeep Cherokee. They’d left the party before the other girl came out of the bathroom.

  On the short drive to his apartment, she found out his name was Rob. They kissed at every stop sign and groped each other as much as the operation of the car allowed until they got to his place. The second-floor apartment had an outside staircase and looked as if it had been converted from a second story of the original house. As they climbed the snow-covered stairs, he assured her that hi
s roommate was out for the night, tucked in at his girlfriend’s place while her roommate partied in Cancun.

  Unfortunately, that particular girlfriend had been replaced by a buxom blonde, naked to the waist, who was being boob worshipped in the living room by Rob’s horny roommate. Rob and Karla made an immediate exit, stopping on the small landing for some heavy necking, oddly turned on by the scene in his living room. Eager for revenge sex, Karla considered taking him to her place but nixed that idea as she recalled that her roommate’s boyfriend was spending the night.

  Out of options, they left town, finally pulling into the parking lot of a restaurant near Altoona. The restaurant was dark, and the area, surrounded by trees, was deserted at this time of night, the nearest house a half-mile away. They drove around back and parked where the car couldn’t be seen from the road, then wasted no time removing any clothing that prevented a fast connection of body parts. Positioning themselves using the single passenger seat was tricky, a feat only accomplished by the young and nimble.

  They wasted no time on preliminaries. Karla straddled Rob and lowered her body onto him, working her hips to maximize their pleasure, her boyfriend forgotten. Excited by the daring act of riding him in the front seat of his car when she barely knew him, Karla lost control before two minutes had passed and threw her head back to let out a loud, shattering moan. In the first few seconds of her ecstasy, Karla was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass and a splatter of wetness on her face and bare breasts.

  Confused and gasping for air, she reached up and groped for the interior light. The inside of the car lit up with red, so much wet crimson that the entire front of the vehicle, including her arms and Rob’s face, were painted with it.