Murder Is Our Mascot (17 page)

Emily strained to recall details of the scene, but her memories were clouded by the stark terror that filled her at the sight of Jim's lifeless body. "No, not that I can remember. I'm sorry," she added.

Gangly-Arms nodded in understanding. "It's okay. It was a long shot anyway. Whoever murdered Mr. Layton was very careful to cover his or her tracks."

"So have you found the murder weapon?" Tad asked, scooting forward in his own chair.

"If you mean, have we found the item used to strike a blow to the back of Mr. Layton's head, then the answer is no. If you mean, have we found the item used to murder him, then it would appear you have been the one to do that."

Emily turned wide eyes on Tad and could see by the expression on his face that he was as clueless as she. "Excuse me?" Tad asked the detective.

For the first time, Emily could see the weariness and frustration etched in the young detective's face, but the firmness of his jaw and the clenched fists at the end of his incredibly long arms showed his determination to figure out exactly what had happened to Jim. He looked them each in the eye, weighing his words with care. "The coroner's report on Mr. Layton came through earlier this afternoon. It turns out that while Mr. Layton obviously sustained a debilitating blow to the back of his head, the actual cause of his death was asphyxiation." Emily's heart dropped and her hand unconsciously flew to her throat, her own breaths feeling tight and shallow in her grief-filled chest. Hitting someone over the head in a fit of anger and causing his death was horrible, but somehow, the thought of holding something over someone's face until he took his final breath seemed even more hideous, more personal, more…everything. The thought that she had been hugging to her chest the very pillow that might have smothered Jim's last breath caused revulsion to well up within her, choking her. She was dimly aware of Tad rubbing comforting circles on her upper back, and she concentrated her whole being on that feeling, that tangible touch of understanding. Slowly, her breathing became more normal, and she was once again able to tune in to the conversation. She sent Tad a grateful smile, and he gave her a small nod in return. Gangly-Arms was explaining, somewhat shamefacedly, that they had not yet determined the item used to asphyxiate Jim. The thought had initially been that the killer took the item with him or her to dispose of it elsewhere. But now, with the discovery of the pillow, it seemed the murder weapon had been hiding in plain sight the whole time. He assured them both that the blood on the pillow would be tested for a match to Jim's as soon as possible.

Emily's mind played a black-and-white film wherein Barnes smothered a stricken Jim with the ugly couch pillow. Emily truly believed that Barnes was the culprit, but the highlight reel in her mind pointed out a salient fact that could halt the rolling film. Jim was a large, strong man. Barnes was a scrawny, slimy toad. There would be no way that Barnes could overpower Jim and smother him with a pillow. Jim could have swatted Barnes away like the flies he likely dined upon. She clenched the edge of the detective's desk as she eagerly asked, "How much strength would it require for someone to asphyxiate a man of Jim's size?" Her knuckles turned white as she waited for the detective to consider her question.

"In all actuality, it probably wouldn't have required much strength at all to smother Mr. Layton. The blow to the back of the head likely rendered him unconscious. The murderer would only need enough strength to strike the back of his head and then roll him over." Gangly-Arms sounded regretful, but Emily was elated at the thought that she was one step closer to proving Barnes's guilt and exonerating Helen.

She was about to expound on her theory about the smarmy Barnes, when Tad interrupted. "What about the lack of history for Jim Layton? I did some looking online, but before he showed up in Peculiar Bluffs, Iowa, the man's life was a closed book. How does a person in this day and age manage to exist for so long without leaving some kind of electronic footprint?"

"Interesting that you should ask," Gangly-Arms answered, leaning back in his desk chair and crossing his arms behind his head. "After running his prints, we determined that Mr. Layton's actual name was Jim Olsen. Does that ring any bells for you?" When both Tad and Emily shook their heads, he continued. "I can't imagine why he changed his name. The guy had no criminal record. We've traced him back to a school in Ithaca, New York, where he taught before moving to Iowa. We know that he had a brother, but the principal at the school that we spoke to was new to the district and couldn't provide us with any further information. This lead developed just this morning, so we are still in the process of ferreting out information. If you hear or remember anything about a Jim Olsen, please be sure and contact me. I hope to locate the brother by the end of the day." Gangly-Arms stared at his relatively clutter-free desktop, and Emily figured he was not looking forward to breaking such sad news to Jim's brother. Assuring him that they would contact him with any further information, Emily and Tad left the hustle and bustle of the station and stepped back out into the weak October sunlight. Emily wrapped her arm around her middle, aching all over again for Jim's senseless death and Helen's disappearance. Where could Helen
be
?

Tad slipped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked lightly, tucking an errant strand of her chestnut bob behind her ear.

"I was wondering where Helen could possibly be," she answered, not meeting his eyes.

"And?" Tad prompted.

"And…" she drew the word out. "I was also contemplating how to best prove that Barnes is the one behind all of this."

Tad released her shoulders, along with a pent-up breath of frustration. "Pit, I think you have blinders on. However, since you seem hell bent on proving his guilt, I wish you would stay with your parents until this is all over. I would stay tonight, but I have a Mathletes' practice this evening that will probably run long, as we're gearing up for a competition. I'd hate to wake you by getting back late. Want me to call your parents?"

Emily shook her head. She was ready for some peace and quiet. "I'll be fine, Tad. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She made sure her voice sounded more convinced then she felt. Time away from Tad would allow her to think more clearly. Tad looked skeptical, but he nodded.

Back in the car, he said, "You know, I'm only a phone call away." It was not a question.

Emily gave him a small smile. "I
do
know. You have definitely proven what a great friend you are these past couple of days to put up with me. Thank you for everything."

"Well, that's what friends are for," Tad replied, never taking his eyes off the road. Was it Emily's imagination, or did Tad sound a little sardonic? She watched him carefully, but his profile revealed nothing. Before she could decide whether or not to say anything further, they were pulling into her drive.

Tad gathered his things and loaded them into his car. He made sure Emily was comfortably settled on the couch with a cold drink, her phone, and the remote control. He seemed to be stalling his departure, and Emily felt like she was treading on shaky ground. Tad was watching her closely, but her tongue was tangled in a knot. The silence swelled around them. Tad finally leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Before she could react, he was out the door. Emily tried to ignore the pang in her chest as she watched him drive away. She had gotten used to having him here, and suddenly the apartment seemed too quiet and too large without his presence. Determined to shake her morose mood, she stabbed a button, bringing the TV flickering to life. Then she called her mom.

After reassuring her mom several times that she was truly feeling fine, her mom expressed extreme displeasure that Tad would no longer be staying with her. She wasn't sure if her mom was more worried about her well-being or in making some kind of match between her and Tad. Either way, she changed the subject and described their trip to the police station with the blood-stained pillow. Her mom punctuated her recital of the day's events with exclamations of shock and dismay. When Emily mentioned that Jim's real name had actually been Jim Olsen, her mom stopped her.

"Jim Olsen? That sounds familiar."

"Really?" Emily scooted up on the couch cushions, clutching the phone tighter.

"I can't recall off the top of my head. I'll give you a ring if something pops later, okay?" And at that, her mom was gone, presumably to ruminate on where she had heard that name before. Knowing her mom, she would probably call her in the middle of the night, or from the shower, when the elusive reference came flooding back. In the meantime, Emily next called to check on Gabby. Emily was thrilled that Gabby was up and about and able to talk to her herself.

"Gabby, I'm so very, very sorry. I can't ever apologize enough. I never should have gotten you involved. I'm sure Greg would like to kill me, but he's been very kind. Are you sure you're okay?" She would have continued, but Gabby cut off her flow of apologies with a soft laugh.

"Em, you didn't put me anywhere I didn't want to be. There's no way you could have known that a psychopath would try to run us off the road. Any news on that, by the way?"

"No," Emily reported, sipping at her soda. "But Tad and I did discover something interesting today." She filled Gabby in on the blood-stained pillow and the alternate name. Then she returned to her favorite topic: Barnes the Villain.

"So," she concluded, "I want to do some recon on Barnes. I was thinking a stakeout…" She trailed off, but Gabby pounced on her words.

"And you need a car," Gabby reasoned. "While I need out of this house before I go insane. I love Greg, but he's smothering me with all his care. I'll be there as soon as it's dark."

"Are you sure? Greg would be furious if he knew what we had planned."

"What Greg doesn't know can't hurt him, right? See you later." Gabby clicked off and Emily was reminded once again why they were best friends—a shared love of mysteries, ice cream, and impulsive, spontaneous acts.

* * *

A couple of hours later found Emily and Gabby parked down the block on the opposite side of the street from Barnes's little, white, ranch-style house. The outside was austere, definitely lacking in character. If Emily could have picked out the perfect house for the slimeball, this would be it. She slurped noisily at the fresh soda Gabby had come packing. As the darkness crept closer, Emily filled Gabby in on all the latest details, avoiding too much mention of Tad. She could feel Gabby's burning curiosity scorching the air around them, but she delved into a detailed evaluation of the latest
Bachelor
episodes to stave off any questions. Gabby knew her well enough not to push for details about her time with Tad, and Emily was grateful. Something was definitely developing or changing or something, but she wasn't yet ready to examine it too closely. Once she tore every moment, every look, every word between her and Tad apart and came to a decision about what she wanted, it would be time to act. And what if she was wrong? What if Tad still saw her as nothing more than a friend, the daughter of his mentor, and an occasional thorn in his side? Having drained her soda, she flipped off the plastic lid and crunched a piece of ice. The munching sound was deafening in the small space. Gabby started and gave a nervous laugh. She was scouring the floor behind her seat.

"What are you looking for?" Emily asked, thinking that with the detritus floating around Gabby's minivan, she could plausibly be mining for gold.

"The girls have a play set of binoculars around here somewhere that actually work, but all I'm coming up with is stale Cheerios."

"Binoculars. Good idea. Wish I'd thought of it." Emily made a mental note to pick a pair up from her dad. He was a keen bird watcher and kept several sets in his shop.

Gabby twisted her body back around, giving up the search. Instead she rummaged through her purse, coming up with a couple of granola bars. After devouring those, Gabby unearthed a bottle of teal-blue nail polish and gave Emily a quick manicure by flashlight, also found in Gabby's treasure chest of a purse, while they waited. Waving the nails on her uninjured arm in the air and pointlessly attempting to blow on the nails of her casted arm to help dry them, Emily checked the clock. "Okay," she finally admitted. "I have no idea what we're waiting for, and I'm starving. Maybe we should call it a night?"

Gabby's response was to yank Emily's arm hard enough to have her falling over the console, banging her head on the dash as she did so. "What the…" she spluttered.

Gabby hushed her, motioning out the window on her side of the minivan. A dark SUV was creeping down the street, and as they watched, it pulled into Barnes's driveway. Emily forgot about the pain in her head as her heart tattooed a painful rhythm in her chest and up into her throat. "Gabby," she croaked. "A dark SUV."

"I know," Gabby said grimly, never taking her eyes off the vehicle. They both held their breath as they watched a shadowy figure slip out of the driver's side. From their vantage point, the person seemed on the small side, but gender could not be determined as the figure had a large hood pulled over his or her head. The figure opened the back driver's side door and removed a large briefcase, then proceeded toward the house. As the figure neared the door, he or she slipped a hand into a pocket. Instinct took over and Emily slid into the floorboard, covering her head with her uninjured arm. "What are you doing?" Gabby hissed.

"Gun!" Emily yelped.

To her surprise, Gabby chuckled. "Unless the gun has a flashlight attached to it, I think we're safe. It looks like a cell phone." Emily slithered back up into her seat, glad the darkness hid her furious blush. But really, who could blame her for being cautious after all they had been through in the past week?

The figure seemed to be talking into said cell phone but tucked it back into a pocket as Barnes opened the door. Emily ducked again, this time out of an irrational fear that Barnes would be able to see them through the darkness. And he did indeed glance furtively around before motioning the figure inside. As the door closed on the two figures, Gabby rounded on her. "Now what?" she demanded.