The Branson Beauty (17 page)

That would leave several hours unaccounted for, Hank thought. He sighed. Tim had been in and out frequently, checking on the guests in the lounge. Roy left the kitchen a few times to use the restroom, as did she. And Mandy had not come back.

“Where did you think she was that whole time?” Hank asked. “That was kind of a long time for her to be gone—just to get some air.”

Mrs. Pugo flushed. “Well … I honestly forgot. Not really, now, but with Roy yammering on about his hurt feelings, and me having to tend the coffee all the time for all them in the lounge … I just never got 'round to checking up on her. And then you were there, and we were rescued. I figured she got off the boat in the whole crush of people, and that was why I didn't see her.” She started to cry. “I've been praying about that. I feel so guilty. If I'd gone looking for her, would she still be alive? Would she, Sheriff? I feel like I failed her. I failed to do my Christian duty.”

Silence. The flames popped in the fireplace. She stared expectantly at Hank, who decided this would be a good time to ask for some tea. He had a feeling that was her beverage of choice, and he was right. She bustled into the kitchen, apologizing profusely for not having offered him something earlier and listing half a dozen different flavors for him to choose. He avoided the fruity ones and picked what sounded like it had the most caffeine.

As she put the kettle on, he steered the conversation into the past. How long had she worked on the
Beauty
? Her mood lifted as she piled a plate with tiny cookies and readied the tea. She had been there from the beginning, she said, ever since Crazy Otis launched the boat back in '83. She was a cook for the main dining room most of that time, until about five years ago, when her bursitis got real bad and Otis moved her up to the private dining room's kitchen. She didn't have to actually cook up there, just make sure the food they brought in from downstairs stayed warm and was served up correctly before Tim took it out to the diners.

“It was a much easier job. I didn't have to stand on my feet so much. That's the kind of boss Otis was, though. He treated you right. Made sure you were taken care of. Like when Anna Fenton got her leg chopped off in that car accident. He moved her from waitressing to ticket taking, even though he already had somebody taking tickets onshore. Built her a whole special little table and chair so as she could sit and put her stump up. He could have just fired her and let her go on the disability, but no, sir. That wasn't the way Otis worked. You got a job with Otis, and you had a job for life.”

But then Otis died. Went and left the boat, and the whole business, to some no-account nephew who didn't have the love for it, in her humble opinion. So the no-account sold it to Henry Gallagher. That was two years ago. He had tried to shrink the size of the
Beauty
staff, but after he laid off two musicians and Frieda from maintenance, people started talking. A lot. And it wasn't flattering. No, sir. And then the newspaper got wind of it and wrote an editorial.

“Yes, they did. About Crazy Otis's legacy and how he was one of the folks who first put Branson on the map. His dream to have a big ol' showboat on the lake was one of the first big things that brought people down here. And you can't go hurting the people who worked for him. Well, that just stopped Mr. Gallagher right there. The musicians had found other jobs, but Frieda came back, and everything was as it should be. We all thanked the Lord. A lot of us can't be finding other jobs at our age.”

The way she phrased her last comment gave Hank pause. She didn't know her job had disappeared into the depths of Table Rock Lake. He gently told her about the fire, handed her a large number of tissues from the box next to his chair, drank three cups of tea, and promised that the next time he saw Mr. Gallagher, he would ask about the fate of the
Beauty
's employees.

That last one is easy, Hank thought as he left Mrs. Pugo's. He definitely planned to have a long and very specific chat with Henry Gallagher about his business and the fact that it was now miraculously rid of the burden of an aging showboat and an even older staff.

 

CHAPTER

15

The high school office was quiet after the chaos of the halls as what seemed to be hundreds of teenagers elbowed their way to different homerooms. Hank felt like he had barely made it to safety. That is a switch, he thought with silent chuckle. Growing up, he had certainly not considered the high school principal's office a desirable location. He straightened as a large battle-ax of a woman stormed out from the back. She looked at him over a pair of bright blue reading glasses.

“And you are here for…?” she asked.

Hank put the yearbook he'd been carrying on the counter and smiled. “The girls' track team.” Nothing like making the secretary think she had a pervert on her hands right before lunchtime. Her eyes widened, but before she could get sharp he put up a hand and explained why he was there.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, oh. That poor girl. Such a sweetheart. Oh, goodness. Oh, my. I … I'll just, I'll just go and get Mr. Narwall, shall I?”

She retreated and then returned with half a dozen women—who must have made up the entire office staff—and one man. Hank had to guess that he was Mr. Narwall. The women pushed forward to the counter and started peppering him with questions. Now, this is more like a principal's office, he thought.

No, he had not caught the murderer yet. No, he hadn't seen the story in the paper. No, he didn't think there was a serial killer on the loose. Yes, he had spoken with Mandy's parents. No, he was not really qualified to say how they were doing. Yes, he would pass on that they were all praying for the family.

“Now,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the verbal bombardment, “I need to speak with Danielle Krycenski.”

“Oh, yes,” the Battle-Ax said briskly. “She was on the track team with Mandy last year. She's in government class right now.” She shot a look at one of the women, who immediately trotted off. She showed Hank into an office in the back, and five minutes later the blonde who had so enjoyed the medic's company in the boat lounge walked into the room. She wiped tears off her face as she sat down.

“I didn't even know she was on the boat,” she sobbed before Hank said a word. “Why didn't she say hi? Why didn't she…”

She dropped her head into her hands and wept. Hank cringed. Comforting teenage girls was not exactly his forte. He opened the door and beckoned in the hovering Battle-Ax. It would be better to have an observer anyway. Could never be too careful these days.

The Battle-Ax was armed with fistfuls of tissue and the somewhat surprising ability to offer copious amounts of sympathy. Several hugs and murmurs later, Danielle was able to speak again.

“You wanted to ask me some stuff?” She sniffed.

Hank took her through the morning. Her account of the meal and the time in the lounge didn't vary much from everyone else's. She had felt somewhat awkward. The only person she really knew was Ryan, and all his attention was directed at his “college girl.” Danielle had assumed Ryan invited her because Mandy would be there—although he had been friendly with her in high school, he knew she and Mandy were very close.

“So you were surprised Mandy wasn't there?” Hank asked. Danielle nodded. “Did you ask Ryan about it?”

“Yeah,” Danielle said. “He just blew me off. Said he was with Kelly now. Said he was sure we would be good friends. Me and her? I don't think so. And he wouldn't say anything about Mandy. I kept trying to ask when they'd broken up, but he wouldn't talk about it. He was really being a jerk.”

“Do you think Mandy would have come to the party if she'd known Ryan had a new girlfriend?”

“No way,” Danielle said. “I know she really liked his grandma and all, but no way. She would not have put up with that. But…” She trailed off.

Hank leaned back in his chair and waited.

“She was different, a little. When she was home for Christmas break, she seemed different. She was kinda jumpy and nervous. And she really seemed to cling to Ryan. She never used to do that.”

“Did she talk to you about anything? Over the break?”

Danielle looked puzzled. “Nothing special. Just how college was fun, but really hard, too. And we talked a lot about her track practices and conditioning and stuff. I'm hoping to make it as a walk-on at Mizzou.”

“You two ran together last year?”

“Yeah. I did pretty well for being a junior. She was a senior, of course. And so good. She got first in a couple of meets. And our whole team got third at state. Coach Schuster and Coach E. were really proud of us. And especially of her.”

She broke into sobs again. The Battle-Ax wrapped her in a hug, patting her head as she aimed a look at Hank that clearly asked whether he was done making her student cry. Hank nodded, and she silently led Danielle from the room. He stared into space for a moment, going over what Mandy's friend had said. By the time he stepped out of the office, the Battle-Ax was back with three other students. Hank frowned.

“Here are the other girls who were on the track team with Mandy last year who are still here at school,” she said. “They are all on the team again this year.”

He had not needed to talk to anyone else at the school. He frowned again. The three teens looked more excited than upset. He had a feeling they had not been as close to Mandy as Danielle had been. He bit back a sigh and backed into the office. The trio eagerly followed. They plopped down into chairs and stared at him with wide eyes.

“We heard about Mandy,” the tall one said breathlessly. The other two nodded. The short one leaned forward. “And you're investigating, right?” Before Hank could answer, she leaned even closer. “Was it vampires?”

Hank stared at her. He could not—for possibly the first time in his adult life—think of a single thing to say.

“Was it?” she repeated.

The three of them stared at him. He began wishing that the Battle-Ax had joined him for this. Were they serious?

“Nooooo,” he said, drawing the word out. “It was not vampires.”

“How do you know?” asked the tall one. “They're everywhere. And they're very sneaky. They're way smarter than cops.”

How on earth had he lost control of this conversation—before it even started? And how was he going to get it back? By protesting that no, he was indeed smarter than imaginary monsters who existed only in pulpy teenage crap?

They continued staring at him. Well.

“It has been my experience … as a police officer,” he said very slowly, “that people who try to redirect the focus of an investigator's interview with silly theories are usually the ones who end up under arrest for murder.”

All three jaws dropped. The short one turned very red. No one said a word.

There.

He leaned back in the creaky school-issue desk chair and gave them a good long glower. The one who was neither tall nor short started to fidget. All right, her first. He leaned forward quickly.

“What's your name?”

She jumped and gasped at the same time. She had shoulder-length brown hair and pretty brown eyes, but she was dressed in clothes that were just a little too big and a little too out of date. Hand-me-downs. Her chin started to tremble.

“Alyssa … Sampson … sir,” she squeaked.

“And you were on the track team with Mandy last year?” he asked. She nodded. “Did you talk to her at all after she went away to school? Did any of you?”

“We all saw her during Christmas break. It was a party at Chad's house. Chad Sorenson. For New Year's,” Alyssa said.

That name was on the boat manifest. “Who's Chad?” he asked.

They all shrugged and mumbled. Alyssa shifted in her seat.

“Who. Is. Chad?” Hank growled. He had had enough of these three. Maybe they should go over to the Brysons' place, watch Mandy's mother sink into her dining room tablecloth sobbing as she tried to pour a cup of coffee. That was where he had been before coming to the school, and right now, he thought seeing that would be a darn sight better education for these flippant children than whatever they were ignoring in government class. He leaned farther forward and waited.

“Chad's a … a friend of Ryan's,” Alyssa said finally. “He's new. He didn't go to school here. His family just moved to town. That big house right on the other side of Lake Taneycomo.”

“And he had a party on New Year's Eve?” Hank asked. All three nodded. He pointed at the tall one. “You—tell me about it. And what's your name?”

“Oh … I'm Jennifer Wilson. Um. Yeah. The party. There were a lot of people there. It was pretty cool. In the big house and everything. Chad had it all done up. Black lights and champagne and…”

The short one made a small, strangled sound, and Tall Jennifer stopped, apparently realizing what she had said. Hank fought back a smirk.

“So there was alcohol at the party? What else besides champagne?”

Jennifer stared down at her hands. Her friends looked like they wanted to kill her. “That was the one cool thing that's ever happened around here, and now it'll never happen again, because you…” hissed the petite one.

Alyssa smacked her quickly on the arm to shut her up. Hank kept staring at Jennifer. Her shoulders slumped, and she said, “There was beer and some kind of shots, but I didn't do those. That's all.”

The other two reluctantly nodded their confirmation. “And what happened at the party?”

“Just dancing and hanging out, you know. Nothing else. It was just cool,” she said.

“Except for when Mandy freaked out,” said Alyssa. “That was just weird.”

“What happened?” Hank asked, keeping the interest out of his voice.

“Chad came up behind her while she was talking to Ryan—she didn't see him—and put his arm around her shoulder. He's really tall, so his arm kinda went down her shoulder and around her neck. He was just being friendly, but she totally flipped out. Jumped about ten feet in the air and then turned around and almost punched him, until she saw who it was. She was shaking and almost crying. Spilled her drink all over.”