The Big Dirt Nap

Ugly.'

I doubted there were many pretty fatal car crashes but kept that observation to myself.

'That was about six months ago, before the whole casino thing came about. She would have been so happy. She loved this place. I think she and her parents used to vacation here when she was little. She was the one who ordered that thing.' The bartender chucked her chin in the direction of the corpse flower.

'Rachel wanted to cancel it, but Bernie wouldn't let her.'

The corpse flower was dangerously close to the top of the enclosure. If it grew another six inches they'd have to remove the top of the enclosure and the strong smell of death would permeate the lobby.

Maybe it was time to talk to a Mishkin. I called Bernie's office. With a grunt of annoyance, his sister informed me that he was in meetings all day. When she realized I wasn't going away, she made the halfhearted suggestion that I call back in two hours—I guessed that Sveta was fully booked. I had the feeling Rachel was lying about Bernie's schedule but there was nothing I could do, so I said I'd wait. I hung up and heard the first few notes to 'Fur Elise,' which told me I had a call coming in on my cell from someone I didn't know.

Caller ID read Shaftsbury Police Department.

'Miss Holliday?'

'Yes?'

'This is Officer Bennett of the Shaftsbury Police Department.' I held my breath, waiting for him to tell me that Lucy's rental car had been found in a ditch somewhere. 'Did you by any chance have too much to drink last night?'

I hadn't. Okay, maybe a small bottle of red wine from the minibar after the two drinks at the bar, but who was this guy, the party police?

'No. Why?'

'Because the car you reported stolen is currently sitting in the Titans parking lot where you said you last saw it.'

I didn't have time to make up a good story—maybe I wasn't as accomplished a liar as I thought I was. 'Well, it wasn't there when I called. Maybe some kids took it for a joyride and then returned it.'

'Uh-huh.' He didn't sound like he believed me, and I wouldn't have believed me either. We went back and forth like that for another five minutes, him chastising me for being too drunk to remember where I parked my own car and wasting the police department's time. And me, finally, meekly agreeing. I ran outside to check.

The white Subaru was the lone vehicle at the farthest end of the lot, near employee parking. That was typical of Lucy. No valet parking for her. She counted steps and took every opportunity to walk, even if she was walking toward copious amounts of high-calorie drinks.

'It makes perfect sense to me,' she'd say, sucking down a guavatini. 'Like diet groups have food exchanges?'

I peered inside the car and tried all the doors. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Lucy's car. We shared a fondness for chocolate mint Zone bars and Dunkin' Donuts coffee and detritus from both was in evidence. So she got here, but never made it to the front door.

Now I was officially worried and actively rooting for the Vermont ski resort scenario.

Twenty-six

Something in Stacy Winters's demeanor prepared me for a tongue-lashing. Perhaps it was the dismissive little head shake. She joined me in the Titans lobby not long after I left her another message telling her that Lucy's white Subaru had been parked in the Titans lot apparently for days. She eased into the chair opposite me and peeled the top off a well-gummed coffee cup. The look on her face told me how awful it tasted.

'I appreciate your concern for your friend, but we're a small force here and we are working on a murder investigation.' She said it the way people say I don't disagree with you, which of course means that they do. She didn't appreciate my concern one bit.

'Yeah, how's that going?' I asked, prepared to match her barb for barb.

'We've narrowed it down to some woman or her husband.' Clearly Winters wasn't going to share any information with me.

'The stolen car thing was good. Very clever.' She rubbed her forehead but it did little to smooth away the deep furrows. 'Show me where the car is.' She took a catlike stretch getting up and she looked as tired as I felt. I'd read somewhere that with every day that passes, crimes, particularly murders, get more difficult to solve. Maybe she was feeling the pressure.

When we reached the rental car Winters produced a long metal strip and with one quick move the door popped open.

'Now I know how the bad guys do it.'

'This is retro. Bad guys have master keys.'

I started to lean over to go through the papers on the passenger seat and she snapped at me, 'Don't touch anything.'

She realized she'd scared me and held her hands out wide as if to calm me down. 'And don't throw up on anything. In the unlikely event that there really is a problem here, those papers may be evidence.' For the first time I was afraid that Lucy may have been in real trouble. My chest tightened, then I burst into tears.

'Pull yourself together, you're supposed to be the tough city girl, aren't you?' She almost sounded sympathetic. She called in for a team to check the car for any evidence or fingerprints, and she and I went back into the hotel. My phone rang and I scrambled to get it out, hoping once again that it would be Lucy. It was Caroline Sturgis and I let her go to voice mail.

'I take it that wasn't her.' Winters flipped through her notebook. 'The Russian bartender may know something about the Crawford brothers. Let's go talk to her,' Winters said.

'She's not here. She didn't come in today and didn't call. I didn't want to say it before, but there have been times when Lucy hasn't called . . . when she was chasing a story or had a deadline.' Winters seemed more interested now.

'Your friend is a journalist?'

'Yeah, sort of. Reality television, true crime, that sort of thing. Why?'

'Forget it. Do you have a picture of her?'

My eyes started welling up again, but I refused to let them spill over. I took a deep breath. I told her I had a few pictures of Lucy on the computer and I'd send them via e-mail.

'Don't e-mail, fax. My computer is on the blink.'

Winters took off and I promised to send pictures of Lucy as soon as I could. That meant getting into Bernie Mishkin's office to use his fax machine whether he was there or not.

Twenty-seven

My plan was to e-mail a picture of Lucy to the Titans office and then have Rachel or Bernie print it out for me and fax it to the police station. It was a good plan as far as it went.

'I told you before, my brother is in meetings all day. He's not even on the premises and I'm certainly not going to let you sit at his computer and go through his e-mails.' She gave a brittle laugh as if the very idea was insane.

Rachel Page would not be charmed. Or threatened. Or appealed to. Her better angels had flown off to help more responsive humans. She stood there looking as warm and fuzzy as Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca.

'I totally understand,' I said, smiling and using my best saleswoman's voice. 'I don't want to go through my own e-mails, much less someone else's. You do it. It's an e-mail from me—if I sent it, I already know what's in it, right?' I delivered this piece of logic with a jaunty smile, fully expecting a sheepish 'Oh, why not.' For a moment I thought she was considering, but it was just a tease.

'Out of the question,' she said. Then she threw me a bone. 'If you can print out your picture somewhere else