Ardith dried her eyes on the hem of her tank top and then struggled to get up. Deputy Timmons and I each grabbed a hand and levered her back to her feet.
“I’ll go close up,” she said. “It may take me a few minutes to throw these guys out, but then we’ve got to go tell Kenny. It’ll break his heart. He loved that girl like she was his own.”
Mel cut me a look that said “Yeah, right,” but she didn’t say it aloud.
“Do you want us to wait for you, or do you want us to go on ahead?” I asked.
“Wait for me,” she said. “I should be the one to tell him and the other kids, not you.”
And so we waited. And it didn’t take long for the guys inside to spill out onto the wooden walkway, where they stood around in a subdued group, talking quietly among themselves. The last customer to emerge was the big guy who had taken over bartending duties while Ardith went outside with us.
Last of all came Ardith. She emerged clad head to toe in leather and carrying a helmet. She climbed onto one of the Goldwings, started it up and headed out, with Deputy Timmons and Mel and me trailing after her.
“I didn’t think she’d ride a motorcycle, too,” Mel said.
“I didn’t, either,” I agreed. “That woman is full of surprises.”
Chapter 15
It was verging on twilight when we trailed Ardith Broward’s Goldwing into the yard of a house that could have been a carbon copy of others we had seen along Highway 12, with one major difference. This one had been recently painted. Someone had taken a Weed Eater and mowed down the grass and weeds around the house. Partially visible behind the house was a redwood kids’ play structure, complete with a canvas cover. I don’t know how much those things cost in dollars and cents, but I helped my son-in-law put one together a couple of years ago. Believe me, when they say, “Some assembly required,” they mean it.
A shirtless guy in greasy jeans was crouched, wrench in hand, next to another Goldwing. The idea that Kenneth Broward was a shade-tree mechanic gave him a leg up in my book. Behind him in a rutted driveway stood a beaten-up Toyota minivan that they probably used when they were hauling kids or groceries around, but with the price of gasoline, I suspected using the Goldwings was as much a cost-saving strategy as it was a philosophical statement.
Despite an evening full of circling mosquitoes, four towheaded kids clambered down from the play structure. Barefoot and carefree, they came bounding across the yard to greet their mother, yelling, “Mom’s home. Mom’s home.”
A pair of spotted mongrel dogs galloped happily after the kids, barking like crazy.
Ardith Broward may not have won any Mother of the Year awards, but her kids and dogs seemed happy enough to see her. Ditto for Kenny. He stood up and wiped his greasy hands on his already greasy pant legs. He started toward her, smiling, until he saw first Deputy Timmons’s patrol car and then ours pulling into the yard behind Ardith’s Goldwing. The smile disappeared. He stopped, turned around, picked up a rag of some kind, and then came back again, still wiping his hands.
Ardith parked her bike next to his. She leaped off it, tossed her helmet on the ground beside it, and then threw herself into Kenny’s arms with enough force that she almost knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t how we would have delivered the bad news. Ardith did the job her way, leaving us nothing to do but watch.
Ardith was not a small woman-five eleven or so. Kenny was a good head taller than she was. He was broad- shouldered. As far as I could see and unlike his wife, he had no tattoos at all. He and Deputy Timmons were probably a good five years younger than Ardith. For a moment I found myself wondering what Kenny saw in her. Then I remembered Mel and started wondering what she saw in me. Sometimes you’re better off just not going there.
Still holding Ardith, he said something to the circling kids. Without a word of argument, the oldest one, a boy of about eleven, herded the younger ones into the house, taking the dogs with them. Ken helped Ardith, still sobbing, over to the edge of the porch and eased her down onto it. Then he turned to Deputy Timmons.
“Who’s that?” he asked, nodding in our direction.
“They’re homicide cops,” Deputy Timmons said. “They work for the attorney general.”
Kenny took my badge wallet, examined it for a moment, and then handed it back. “So it’s true then, what Ardith just said? Rachel is dead?”
“Yes,” I answered. “That’s what we believe. She appears to have fallen victim to what kids call the choking game. They tie a rope or something around their necks long enough to cut off the supply of oxygen to their brains in the mistaken belief that it’s some kind of high. Unfortunately, some kids die of it.”
“What’s this she’s saying about a video? There’s a video? Somebody filmed this?”
Mel was already reaching for her iPhone. Ken Broward stood absolutely still the whole time the video was playing. By the time it was over, his face was ashen. He turned away and bolted around the side of the house, where we heard him puking his guts out.
I don’t suppose puking would hold up in a court of law as a declaration of innocence, but it was pretty damned convincing as far as I was concerned. Kenny’s face was still ghostly white when he came back to the front of the house. He sat down next to Ardith, put a hand on her shoulder, and pulled her close.
“Who the hell would do such a thing?” he demanded, more angry than grief-stricken. “Who?”
“That’s what we were hoping you could tell us,” Mel said smoothly. “You told Deputy Timmons that Rachel left the house on Sunday afternoon. That she rode off with a friend and was planning to spend the night.”
“Yes,” Ken said. “That’s right. She told me her name was Janie. That she knew her from school.”
“Last name?”
Ken just shook his head. “You know how kids are. They never mention last names, ever.” He paused, shook his head, and wiped his eyes. “I should have asked. She just told me she was leaving, going to Janie’s house, and that was it.”
Ardith reached over and patted his knee with a small comforting gesture that reminded me of the way Governor Longmire had patted Gerard Willis’s knee for much the same reason.
“What did she take with her?” I asked.
“Just her backpack,” Kenny answered. “I don’t really know what was in it. Overnight stuff, I guess.”
“Did she seem upset about anything? Was she angry?”
Kenny shook his head. “Not at all. She said she’d be home on Monday to look after the younger kids so I could go to work on Tuesday. Harlan’s eleven,” Kenny said. “We don’t mind leaving him in charge of the little ones for a couple of hours, but for all day. .”
Mel aimed a questioning look in Ardith’s direction.
“I got the chance to pull a couple of double shifts,” Ardith said with a shrug. “We need the money real bad.”
“But you didn’t report her missing when she didn’t come home on Monday.”
“We had a fight about it,” Ardith said. “Kenny thought somethin’ was wrong. I thought she was just actin’ up or actin’ stupid. I told him she was just askin’ for trouble, but I didn’t mean. .”
Ardith swallowed hard and looked like she wished she could take back not only the words but also the thought.
“Of course not,” Mel said kindly.
I thought it was a good idea to change the focus a little.
“Do you ever remember her mentioning having a friend or acquaintance named Josh?” I asked. “He’s from Olympia.”
Ken and Ardith Broward shook their heads in definitive unison.
“Rachel doesn’t have any friends in Olympia,” Ken declared. “How would she? And who’s Josh?”
“A boy from Olympia,” I answered. “That’s where we found the video-on Josh’s cell phone.”
“Ask him about it, then,” Ken said. “He should know where he got it.”
“We can’t,” Mel said.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s dead. He committed suicide last night.”
