In Sickness and in Death

Thirty minutes outside Wachobe, in a much less touristy and upscale town, the county’s public safety building housed the sheriff’s office, county court, and a forty-cell jail. The imposing brick and cement facility seemed impervious to the hustle of traffic in and out of the hospital and convenience store flanking it. Every time I entered the place, I got the creeps.

When Danny and I walked into the building, Gumby was on his way out. He was the one man I knew taller than Ray, and the first man to ask me out after Ray and I separated four years ago. I passed then, and I cringed now as he stooped to give me a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Jo, Happy Thanksgiving. Ray’s not here.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. We’re actually here to visit Danny’s father.” I gestured to him. “Have you met Danny?”

Gumby studied Danny. “Nice haircut, kid.”

Danny studied his feet.

“Can he see his dad?”

“Visiting hours are over.”

“It’s Thanksgiving and he’s twelve. Can we make an exception?”

“It’s not my rule. It’s the sheriff’s.”

“Is he here?”

“Hell no.”

I gave Gumby “the look.” He bugged out his eyes right back at me. I tried a new tactic.

“Gumby, I can’t believe you won’t make an exception for a holiday and a twelve-year-old boy. You didn’t have any qualms about making an exception to your marriage vows with my sister.” I raised an eyebrow.

His chin jerked up. “Is that what she said?”

“She tells me everything.” This time I had my fingers crossed in my pocket for two reasons.

He muttered something under his breath. “Let me ask.”

Gumby led us down a number of corridors into the law enforcement division, filled with empty desks. He told us to wait and leaned into an office to speak with someone. I couldn’t hear what was said, but Gumby made a number of gestures, not all G-rated. When Gumby stepped out of the office after five minutes, he had a ring of keys in his hand. “You’re lucky he’s still in pre-arraignment detention. Otherwise, you’d be SOL. Come on.”

We went through a doorway into a hall then through a locked doorway into yet another hall. Gumby unlocked the next door a few feet down and stood aside to let us pass. We stepped into a four-cell holding area.

The cell to the right was empty. To the left a man lay on his back, sleeping. His chest rose and fell as he alternately whistled and snorted. I figured him for a drunk.

“Come here, kid.” Gumby patted Danny down, then took him by the arm. I followed.

The next cell on the right was also empty, but to the left, a man sat with his back against the wall and his legs outstretched on his bunk. Now I knew where Danny got his good looks.

His father’s hair was held back in a ponytail and his face had a few mores lines on it around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise, their facial features were almost the same. But this man had a scar on his neck as though someone had tried to slice it open and finish him off. It made Danny’s nick on the cheek look as insignificant as a pimple. On his right arm, Danny’s father had a tattoo of a heart with a sword running through it. A scroll beneath the heart was solid black.

When he spotted Danny, he leapt to his feet with a broad smile and moved to the cell door. “Danny.”

Gumby rattled the keys in his hand. “Back against the wall, Mr. Phillips. Danny can come inside if you wait against the wall.”

Mr. Phillips rushed to the opposite side of the cell. Gumby unlocked the door. Danny stepped inside. He and his father met in the middle of the cell, his father’s arms encompassing him in a hug that lifted Danny off the floor. Then his father covered his face with kisses. I heard Danny sob.

Blinking back my tears, I walked back to listen to the drunk whistle and snort. Gumby remained outside the jail cell, leaning against the far wall with his eyes averted.

He gave them five minutes then five more. I didn’t think even he had the heart to separate them.

When the door opened behind me and the other officer stuck his head in, Gumby asked Mr. Phillips to step back while Danny left the cell. Gumby had to tell Danny to come out three times before he did so, but only at his father’s urging. I was relieved to see Danny had stopped sobbing. He asked to use the restroom before we left.

I waited in the lobby with Gumby. “Ray said Briana identified that woman’s arm.”

Gumby nodded. “It’s her. The apartment manager let us in her place. At first, everything looked fine. Living room had an open magazine on the coffee table like maybe she’d just put it down. Kitchen clean and neat, flowers on the table. But her bed was soaked in blood, spatters all over the walls. No body though. We’re going to work with that county and the State Police on the investigation. Our first priority is to find the body. No one at the apartment building saw or heard anything, and no one remembers ever seeing the woman with anyone. It’s hard to tell if they’re being honest or refusing to get involved. Briana said the girls at the club don’t know anything about her either, other than she may have offered to meet a few guys outside of work for a price.”

So the dead woman was a prostitute as well as a dancer. “What was her name?”

“Josie Montalvo.”

“Why would the killer cut off her arm?”

Gumby ran his hand over his hair. “Guy might be a psycho who likes trophies. Or maybe he did it for the jewelry. The ruby ring and the gold bangles are worth a few thousand. The medical examiner said the ring would have to be cut off her finger.”

“Why keep just one arm?”

He shrugged. “It’s not so easy to chop off an arm. Maybe he only had time for one. Besides, Briana said Josie only wore the ring and bangles on one arm.”

“So you’re sure the killer is a man?”

“Guys are the only ones sick enough for dismemberment. It’s probably some psycho who took her home, then did her in.”

Before I had a chance to get a mental image of that, Danny reappeared.

I smiled at him. “Ready to go?”

He kept walking right past me and disappeared into the parking lot.

I took that as a yes.

____


In the middle of the night, I awoke. The clock read four a.m. Ray slumbered peacefully beside me, but I heard crying. I swung my feet to the floor and stumbled over familiar ground. When I opened the door to the nursery, the sobbing grew louder. I stepped forward and smashed my toe.

“Oh. Ow. Oh. Oh. Shit!”

I hopped around the room, holding my toe in my hand as the pain telegraphed over and over to my brain.

The crying ceased. “Jolene?”

“Yes, Danny?”

“Are you okay?”

“No.” I dropped onto the end of the bed, which now extended into the middle of the room. “I stubbed my toe. It hurts like he—. It hurts.”

“You swore.”

The pain in my toe eased. I lowered my foot to the floor. “Yes, and see how awful it sounds when someone does.”

He sat up in the bed. “Why are you here?”

“I heard crying. I thought you needed me.” Truthfully, I thought Noelle needed me, but once again, I’d been mistaken. Danny didn’t need to know all that, though.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong? Are you worried about your dad?”

“Yes … no … yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes … No.”

I slid up next to him. “Let’s talk anyway. It will make me feel better.”

“Okay.”

“Are you worried he’s not going to get out of jail?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried something bad will happen to him there?”

“Like what?”

Perfect. I’d led myself right into a trap where I could build his fears. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in jail. Has your dad?”

“Yes. He said he’d never go back.”

I processed the implications of that statement. Ray seemed confident Mr. Phillips would be convicted. I didn’t know the sentence for car theft, but I imagined a couple of years at least, more since the man had priors. I didn’t see how Danny’s father could avoid doing time if he did get convicted. Prison escapes were pretty passé around here. Maybe he should have thought of that before he stole the Escalade.

I decided to change the topic. “Where did you live before your dad got arrested?”

“We moved around. We stayed with my dad’s friends sometimes.”

I wondered if they were all car thieves, too. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“In my dad’s car.”

“A Toyota Camry?”

He didn’t answer. I took that for a yes.

“Where’s your mom?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you seen her?”

“I’m not sure.”

What an odd thing to be uncertain about. “You’re not sure because it was so long ago?”

“No. My dad won’t talk about her.”

The information must be on his birth certificate, although we’d learned the hard way with Noelle that legal documents were only as accurate as the source. Surely Ray must know his mother’s name. I would ask him in the morning.

“Jolene?”

“Yes, Danny?”

“You know that lady’s arm … the one in the cooler?”

As if he could be referring to any other arm. “Yes?”

“Do you know that lady’s name?”

“Josie Montalvo.”

“Did she work at The Cat’s Meow?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

Again, he remained silent. But my suspicions grew.

“Danny, do you think that lady was your mother?”

“No … maybe. I don’t know.”

“Did you meet her?”

“No. I had to stay in the car.”

“Do you mean your father went to The Cat’s Meow to see her and you waited outside?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Saturday night.”

“What time on Saturday?”

“After nine, I think.”

Ray had said that Josie didn’t come to work for the last several days. Did that include Saturday night? I was tempted to get him out of bed to ask, but I wanted to keep Danny talking for as long as he was willing.

“Was your dad driving his Camry?”

No answer once again, which was as good as a “yes.” But the Camry with the arm in the trunk hadn’t been stolen until Monday. Or was that just the day the used car lot discovered it was missing? They probably didn’t work on Sunday. I would have to ask Ray.

“Why do you think she might be your mother?”

“Because that’s the name my dad used to have on his tattoo.”

“Josie?”

“Yes.”

I pictured the heart tattoo with the sword running through it and the blacked-out banner underneath. I should have realized the blacked-out banner represented a lady who had fallen out of favor with her knight in shining armor. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did your dad ever say your mom’s name was Josie?”

“No, but he said he loved Josie. And once he told me that he loved my mom.”

I didn’t want to argue with Danny’s logic, but it was possible his father had loved two different women in one lifetime. He’d probably loved many if he and Danny moved around a lot. If Ray didn’t know Danny’s mother’s name, I could ask his school for the name on the birth certificate. I hoped they would tell me.

If it was Josie Montalvo, then Danny’s father would be tied to her murder by virtue of their relationship. If it wasn’t, his visit to The Cat’s Meow might be enough to connect him to the murder. And if convicted of murder, Danny might never live with his father again.

That might be for the best, but I sure didn’t want to be the one to separate them. Danny seemed to love his father, and from all appearances, his father loved him. Could a man capable of killing and chopping up a woman also feel love? I preferred to think not.

“Danny, how long did your father have his white Camry?”

“He bought it on Saturday.”

“Were you with him?”

“No. He left me at Chuck E. Cheese’s while he went to pick it up.”

“By yourself?”

“Why not?”

If tested, I could think of a hundred reasons why not. I kept them all to myself. “No reason. So when he picked you up, he was driving his new Camry?”

“Yes.”

“Then you went to The Cat’s Meow?”

In the dim light, I saw him nod.

“And you waited outside. Then what?”

“My dad took me to his friend’s house and dropped me off.”

“You slept there?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the friend’s name?”

Danny crinkled his brow. “I don’t remember.”

Must not be a close friend. Who would leave their child with a virtual stranger? Mr. Phillips’ parenting style hit rock bottom in my estimation. “Where did your dad go?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did he pick you up again?”

“He was there in the morning when I woke up.”

So Danny’s father may have had the opportunity and means to kill Josie Montalvo. Did he have a motive, too? What a nightmare. Poor Danny. He had no idea the information he’d shared could lock his father away forever.

“Jolene?”

“Yes, Danny?”

“I’m cold.”

I stood and gathered the covers from the end of his bed. “Let me tuck you back in. It’s too early to get up.”

“Okay.” He laid his head on the pillow while I pulled the sheet and blanket up to his neck. I bent over and kissed his cheek. “Go back to sleep, Danny.”

His voice was small when he replied “okay.”

I scurried across the cold wooden living room and kitchen floors to slide back in bed beside Ray. I pushed on his shoulder. No response.

I pushed again, whispering his name. The man could sleep through a bomb raid.

He rolled over and threw his arm over my chest. “Go back to sleep, Darlin’.”

I kept my voice to a whisper so Danny wouldn’t hear me. “I can’t sleep, Ray. I need you.”

He massaged my breast. “Mmmm.” He nuzzled my neck and started to move downwards.

I shoved his shoulder again. “Ray, I need to talk to you about Danny.”

He lifted his head. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing.”

Ray dropped back onto his pillow. “Then why wake me up? I’m tired.”

By the time I finished whispering to him, he wasn’t tired anymore. In fact, he jumped out of bed, showered, and pulled on his uniform.

“I’m going to have another talk with Danny’s father and the bartender at The Cat’s Meow.”

“It’s only five a.m., Ray. I’m sure the bartender’s not there. He just went home a few hours ago.”

“I’ve got his home address.”

I’m sure the guy would be thrilled to have Ray wake him minutes into his R.E.M. sleep.

Then I started to worry Danny’s information sharing would make his father angry with him. “Can you keep Danny out of it? I don’t want his father to feel betrayed.”

Ray pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t worry. One thing I’m sure about with this case is Danny’s father loves him. I doubt anything can change that.”

“What else are you sure about?”

“That we have a dismembered dead woman floating around somewhere.”





Ray worked the next three days, interviewing everyone connected to The Cat’s Meow, the car dealership, and Danny’s father, of course, who exercised his right to remain silent. In conjunction with the State Police and the next county, Ray’s department combed the area surrounding The Cat’s Meow and Josie Montalvo’s apartment, looking for her body. They found nothing.

The bartender at The Cat’s Meow, however, did confirm that Danny’s father had spoken at length to Josie Montalvo Saturday night, the last night she reported to work. His impression was the conversation had been intense, but not violent, although he had no idea what they talked about.

In the meantime, Ray left Danny at home with me and the instruction not to watch television. He hid the stolen Nintendo DS.

I felt like I was the one being punished. I didn’t know what to do with a twelve-year-old. After two days of washing windows, cupboards, baseboards, and anything else I could think of as well as sorting out old clothes and accumulated magazines and mail, all the easy jobs were done in our tiny two-bedroom bungalow. I couldn’t bear the thought of stripping and waxing the wood floor even though it needed TLC.

We played Monopoly. Danny won twice. We played Scrabble. I won, by a landslide. Danny refused to play again. We played crazy eights. The game lasted two hours. Then I needed to get out of the house.

So I took advantage of the library’s Sunday hours and let Danny roam the stacks.

Fifteen minutes later, he asked if he could check out some movies. I knew the movies wouldn’t go over with Ray.

“Didn’t you find any books that interest you?”

“No.”

“What about this?” I pulled a Hardy Boys book off the shelf.

He curled his lip.

I took offense. I’d loved the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew as a child. I tried not to snarl at him. “What are you interested in?”

“Cars.”

Couldn’t fault him for that.

I asked the librarian for books about cars. She led us to the non-fiction area. Danny agreed to read books about racing and race car drivers. I breathed a sigh of relief and took him home.

While Danny read, I hid in the closet we called an office and surfed the Internet for more Caterhams as well as individuals interested in purchasing a Ferrari. I felt certain the Ferrari would sell someday, but to someone who hadn’t heard of its history. Since our town loved to gossip, only an out-of-towner might not hear. I say “might” because those gossip vine tendrils can grow for miles.

The phone rang around five o’clock.

“The butterflies are so pretty.”

“Erica? Where are you?”

“See the blue one?”

Panic clamped onto my heart and gave it a painful squeeze. “Erica, answer me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “Mom, where are we?”

I gripped the phone tighter. Erica had never addressed our mother within my hearing, not since Mom died, of course. “Erica, are you home?”

“No-o-o-o.”

“Are you in a house?”

“It’s dark.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Lying.”

“On a bed?”

“Cold. Where are my clothes?”

My hand shook. The phone struck my temple. She hadn’t gotten her medication fast enough. She was either hallucinating or talking in her sleep. She’d been known at times to walk, talk, and chew gum while asleep. No one could say she wasn’t a woman of many talents. “Is there a window?”

“Y-e-e-s.”

“Okay, Erica, get up and go to the window. Look outside and tell me what you see.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My wrist is stuck.”

“On what?”

“Ahhh …”

Clearly, she was stumped. “Okay, Erica, hold on.”

I ran from the office into the living room and grabbed my purse, fumbling for my cell phone with one hand. I hit speed dial for Ray’s cell.

Danny watched me from the couch, his brow furrowed.

I turned my back to him.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Ray, Erica called me from this number.” I checked the caller readout and repeated the incoming phone number to him. “She doesn’t know where she is. She’s completely out of it.”

I could hear him keying into a computer, looking for the address to go with the number.

“Keep her on the phone. I’m on my way.”

I clicked my cell phone shut. “Erica, honey, Ray is coming to get you. Just sit tight.”

Nothing. “Erica? Erica? ERICA?”

All I got in response was a dial tone.

____


Ray called twenty minutes later. “It’s a motel room. She’s not here. There’s no sign of her. The desk clerk says he didn’t see her, but four different guys checked in today. Glen Burton, Maurice Boor, Richard Scott, and Mickey Dean.”

“Mickey Dean’s is a restaurant.”

“I know. The names may all be aliases.”

I didn’t think so. “Is Boor spelled B-o-o-r?”

“Yes.”

“Erica went to high school with a Maury Boor. He used to put notes in her locker all the time. He freaked her out, always calling and asking her on dates.”

“I don’t know him.”

I pulled the phone book out of a drawer and thumbed through it. Maurice Boor wasn’t listed, nor anyone else with the same name. Just my luck, his family had moved away. “I think he was a year younger than Erica, so six years younger than us.”

“What does he look like?”

“I haven’t seen him in years. In high school, he was short and scrawny with dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Sort of geeky.” I would have to dig out Erica’s old yearbooks to find his picture.

“The desk clerk couldn’t remember which guy was which, but he said two of them were dark-haired, one balding, one with a gray ponytail. All of them were taller than him, and he’s around five-eight.”

Maybe Maury had a growth spurt after high school. “Are any of them in their rooms?”

“No. This is an hourly sort of motel, Darlin’. It’s about a mile from The Cat’s Meow. They draw their regular crowd.”

“Can you go see if she’s there?”

“No. I’m supposed to be looking for a one-armed woman, Jolene. I cannot chase your sister around town.”

“Ray, Erica was talking about butterflies. She spoke to Mom like she was in the room with her. She’s not well.”

“She hasn’t been well for a long time. There’s no sign of any foul play here, or any kind of play. I don’t know why she called you, but I have to get back to work. I’ll check and see if Maurice Boor has any priors.”

I couldn’t believe he hung up on me. I resisted the temptation to slam the phone on the receiver over and over again only because of Danny’s watchful eyes.

While it was true Erica had been sick for years and known to disappear for days at a time with men, her hallucinations usually involved someone being after her, making her afraid to leave home. She lost several jobs because she failed to show up for work, too afraid to drive there for fear someone would be in the back seat of her car waiting to attack her. I’d never really thought of her conversations with our mother as hallucinations, since Erica never said she saw Mom or heard Mom’s voice. She just quoted her, which I’d interpreted as Erica trying to garner support for her own ideas by attributing them to Mom. After today, I wasn’t so sure.

I tried to convince myself that, like so often in the past, I had no real cause for concern about Erica’s safety. But Erica had a thing for butterflies. She coveted their short life span. And images of the severed arm lying in the ice chest kept pushing their way into my mind. We might have a psycho killer running loose in our county, one who preyed on women from The Cat’s Meow. Erica had recently become one of those women. While not a dancer, she had been there the other night, offering herself to men in the bar. Had one of them decided to take her up on her offer? Was he keeping her against her will? I couldn’t sit idly by and wait to find out, not when she’d called me in distress.

I glanced at Danny, who tried to avert his eyes back to his book before I caught him watching me. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“How about pizza?”

“Okay.”

“Get your coat and shoes. We’re going out.”

____