To Thine Own Self Be True (3 page)

Chapter Four

Bolting across the driveway, I almost ran into a Chevy Blazer parked at the end of the sidewalk. I stopped abruptly and Nick bumped into me, knocking me sideways. The Blazer bore the insignia of the Lansdale police. Lansdale. Wolf and Mandy’s shop was in Lansdale. I darted around the four-wheel drive and ran into the house, spraying snow into the foyer. Lucy looked up from the loveseat, where she sat across from two people—one in uniform, one in plain clothes. Her face had paled almost to the color of the snow outside, and her eyes were dark holes of sadness.

“Oh, no,” I said.

The woman, the cop in the gray suit, stood and stepped forward. “Detective Shisler, Lansdale police. This is Officer Beane.”

“You’re here about Wolf and Mandy,” I said.

Her lips formed a straight line. “Would you please sit down?”

Nick closed the door behind me, nudging me into action, and I stripped out of my coveralls. My boots banged onto the mat, and I threw my hat to join them.

The officer and detective sat only when I had found my way to the loveseat and perched beside Lucy. My voice stuck in my throat and I could only stare at the cops, their faces blurs.

“Scott and Mandy Moore,” Detective Shisler said. “You know them?”

I nodded. “Sure. Except everybody calls him Wolf, not Scott. Have you found them?”

She smiled grimly, but didn’t answer. “You saw them today? You had an appointment?”

“About four o’clock. Got a tattoo. Or part of one.” I held up my wrist. “It’s supposed to say ‘Howie.’ You can see it doesn’t.”

She and Officer Beane inspected the design without touching it.

“It didn’t get finished?” Shisler asked.

“Wolf disappeared in the middle of it. Mandy, too.”

Shisler’s eyes flicked to the officer, and the two colleagues seemed to share a thought.

I sat forward, my hands clenched on my knees, and spoke very slowly. “Tell me what happened.”

Shisler’s head jerked to one side. “I’m sorry. I need to ask you some things first. Can you please describe their disappearance? What exactly occurred?”

I explained how Mandy had gone to the back room and soon called Wolf, who excused himself and joined her. “Twenty minutes later I realized I was alone.”

“It took you that long?”

“I fell asleep.”

Shisler and Beane stared at me, incredulous.

“I was tired,” I said. “The chair was comfortable.” The same defense I’d used at supper. “Anyway,” I said, “when I woke up they were gone.”

The detective stared down at her notebook, which she hadn’t yet used.

“Are they all right?” I asked.

She sighed, fingered a page of her notebook, and met my eyes. “How well do you know Mr. and Mrs. Moore?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Not real well. He did my arm tattoo several years ago—”

“Not that one?” She pointed toward the cow skull on the back of my neck.

“No. Another artist, down in Philly. Anyway, I see Wolf and Mandy occasionally at a biker event or something. Nothing regular.”

She nodded. “Can you please tell me what you remember of your time there this afternoon? Did anything seem strange? Did they mention troubles they’re having with anybody?”

Afraid of where this conversation was heading, I rested my elbows on my knees and hung my head, rubbing the back of my neck. “Mandy was in a great mood. Told lots of funny stories, like the one about the lady whose tattoo fell off in the Bermuda Triangle…” I stopped and cleared my throat. “They mentioned that Billy, their son—I think he’s in junior high—was staying overnight with his grandma because of a meeting they had that might go late.”

“They mention who the meeting was with?”

“Didn’t say.”

I considered the rest of our conversation. “There’s another tattoo artist they talked about who they don’t like, who’ll give underage kids tattoos and piercings. What was his name?”
Asshole
, Mandy had said. “Gentleman John. John something. A color. Greene. And there was a guy who came into the shop and wanted Wolf to fill in his tattoo.”

“Did he?”

“Said he wouldn’t till the guy paid what he owed from last time. Guy got mad and stormed out of the place. Huge man Mandy called Tank. I didn’t know him.”

Detective Shisler wrote something on her pad. “Any problems that you noticed between the two of them?”

“Wolf and Mandy? You kidding? They got along like always. Comfortable, happy with each other.” I pictured Mandy flipping off Wolf, a smile on her face.

Shisler nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Anything else you can think of? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Yeah. There was a crash. Mandy had taken some instruments back to the autoclave, for sterilizing.” I could picture them clearly—bags of shiny, silver tools scattered across the snowy mats. “She dropped them right before she yelled for Wolf. I figured she was calling him because she broke something.”

“Yes, we saw those items on the floor.”

My breath caught. “You’ve been to their place. Something
has
happened.”

The detective’s eyes closed briefly before they fixed on me. “Mandy’s mother, Mrs. Eve Freed, was concerned about Mr. and Mrs. Moore going out to their meeting tonight, in this weather. She tried calling them long before they were supposed to leave to ask if their plans had changed, but there was no answer, even on their cell phone. So Mrs. Freed called one of the Moores’ neighbors, who could see that their truck was still in the driveway. He went over to check on them, and when he couldn’t find them in their shop or apartment, he looked around back.” Her eyes clouded. “Their Dumpster was open. He thought he’d close it so it wouldn’t get filled with snow. When he reached for the lid, he saw her.”

I breathed through my mouth. “Mandy?”

She nodded. “She was lying behind the Dumpster, where she couldn’t be seen from the road or any neighboring building.”

My throat tightened. “Is she…?”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Crown. Mrs. Moore is dead.”

I closed my eyes and hung my head, fighting for breath. “How?” I asked.
How
, like my tattoo.

Shisler bit her lips. “We don’t know officially. But it looks like she was concussed—hit very hard on her head—then left there. She most likely died of hypothermia.”

My breath came quick and shallow. “She froze to death?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I tried to make sense of the patterns on the rug beneath my feet, but they were moving, shifting under my gaze.

“That means,” I said, “that she was lying there for a while.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps even while I was still there. When I was sleeping. When I looked outside.”

She looked at me sadly. “It’s possible.”

The patterns on the floor stopped moving.

I ran to the bathroom. And threw up.

Chapter Five

The wind whistled through my windows most of the night, finally dying down around four. I know this because I spent those hours intensely aware of a piercing pain behind my temple, and a deep ache in my chest. A bucket sat by my bed in case whatever was left in my stomach decided to come out. Mandy was dead. That lively, obnoxious, funny woman was left to die thirty feet from where I lay, taking a nap.

I didn’t ever want to sleep again.

After my quick exit to the bathroom, the detective and Officer Beane hadn’t stayed very long. Shisler had told Lucy—for I was beyond being able to absorb anything she told me—that she would be in touch to see if I could help with anything more. Wolf was still out there somewhere, and they had to consider whether or not he was the one who killed his wife, no matter how much I protested the idea. Shisler had said she’d appreciate a call if something additional came to mind about the afternoon, or if I thought of some other source that could help. Her card lay on the kitchen table.

I rolled out of bed, head pounding, and stood by the window, watching as clouds of snow blew by, obscuring the night sky. During one of the still moments I got a view of Nick’s Ranger, blanketed under almost a foot of snow. My head pounded even harder. With the horror of the evening I’d basically forgotten the man sleeping downstairs on my sofa. Lucy had taken over as hostess, offering to sleep in Tess’ room so Nick could have a real bed, but Nick wouldn’t hear of it. Said if he couldn’t handle a sofa, what kind of man was he?

I leaned my forehead against the window, wondering what the hell I was going to do if Nick stuck around very long the next day, wanting to talk about things. About us. It wasn’t like I could just forget that his family lived on money made from developing land in Virginia. I mean, developers were my arch-enemy, and had been since I was a kid. Nick was now the CEO of the family business, after his dad had died earlier in the year, and I had no idea what he’d done with Hathaway Development since taking it over.

I went back to bed, but turned off my alarm just before five, not sure exactly how much sleep I’d gotten in those semi-conscious hours. It would have to do.

Coming out of the bathroom I almost ran over Lucy, who was heading toward the stairs.

“Hey,” she said. “How’re you doing?”

I shook my head and stumbled after her.

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” she said. “I’m sure the storm was generous in the amount of problems it brought, and you need energy to deal with it. I can do the morning milking.”

“I need to work,” I said.

She understood.

In the living room I turned on the TV with the volume down low. The five-o’clock news was just starting, and of course one of the headlines was Mandy’s murder. I waited through some commercials and world news before they finally got to the story. I watched, numb, before clicking the remote and entering the kitchen.

“What are they saying?” Lucy asked. She stood at the counter, buttering a piece of toast. “I couldn’t make myself watch.”

“No suspects they’re admitting to, and no leads on where Wolf might be.”

“So nothing we didn’t already know.” She hesitated. “I called Lenny last night and told him. Shook him up, too. Said he’s not close to them, but Bart knows them pretty well.”

Bart Watts, Lenny’s business partner, was another friend of mine with more tattoos than your average citizen.

I turned toward the cupboard and glimpsed Nick standing at the kitchen door, rumpled and sleepy. I took a deep breath and concentrated on finding a cereal bowl.

“Should I make the coffee?” he asked.

My stomach clenched. “Only if you want it.”

Lucy opened another cupboard, revealing a coffeemaker. “Here. It’s just a two-cupper, but it makes good java.”

Nick stood silently for a moment, watching me pour cereal. Not that I had any appetite for it.

“I’m really sorry about your friend,” he said.

I nodded, knowing if I talked any more about Mandy I might as well dump my Wheaties down the drain. “Lucy and I will be out most of the day fixing up whatever the storm damaged. I’m not sure what time you’re taking off, but at least come find me before you go.”

Lucy became very interested in whatever the refrigerator held, her head ducking down behind the door. Nick looked at me steadily.

“I thought I’d stick around, help out where I could. I mean, you do have those extra coveralls.” He smiled, and I wondered how on earth he could be so pleasant that early in the morning. “Besides, the roads aren’t open for us regular travelers yet.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”

Lucy emerged from the fridge and set a gallon of milk on the table. “We’ve got a line-up of cereal in the cupboard, or if you’re not ready for that we have orange juice and bananas.”

“Those Lucky Charms are looking good,” he said. “Tess’ choice?”

Lucy laughed. “How’d you guess?”

I turned and leaned against the counter. “Will she be okay in here by herself today?”

Lucy sat at the table and poured some of the Wheaties into her bowl. “She’ll sleep for a couple more hours, I would think. I left her a note telling her I’ll be outside. I’ll check on her when we’re done milking.”

I took a deep breath, remembering that Billy Moore’s mother wouldn’t be checking on him that morning. Or ever again.

Nick took a seat, prompting me to eat my cereal standing up. Lucy gave me a look I couldn’t quite read, but I was pretty sure she thought I was being ridiculous. I soon set my empty bowl in the sink and reached for the Bag Balm on the window sill. My hands, never in great shape, dried out and cracked like mad during the winter. It’s impossible to wear gloves during milking, and the constant cold and wetness wreaked havoc on my skin. I took special care to rub ointment over my new tattoo, which had become slightly red and sore. A normal reaction to a new tattoo, and nothing to worry about. I looked at the inscription, wondering for the hundredth time where Wolf had gone, and if he was okay. Or even alive.

“All right,” I said. “I’m headed out.”

Lucy waved her spoon at her bowl. “I’ll be there soon.”

I smothered myself in outerwear and waded through the drifts toward the barn. Queenie greeted me in the parlor, straw clinging to her fur, and I rubbed her head and ears, trying to transfer some of her positive energy to myself. She was warm and content, feeling virtuous, I was sure, for guarding the herd through the night. I was almost done clipping the cows into their stalls when Lucy appeared.

“You okay?” she asked.

I snapped another cow’s collar in place. “I’ll be better when I know what’s happened to Wolf.”

“Right.” She hesitated. “You know, about Nick, at least he’s making the effort to—”

“Don’t, Lucy.”

She shrugged. “All right.”

Temple Radio was playing Mozart, and I was glad for the upbeat music. I was a little surprised the DJ had made it to the station, until I remembered he probably lived on campus and could walk to work. On snowshoes.

I had just finished a sneeze brought on by hay dust when Nick came through the door.

“Bless you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

We looked at each other. Or what we could see of each other, underneath the layers. Queenie jumped out of her corner to say hello to Nick, licking his face and receiving a good rubbing in return.

“What do you want me to do?” Nick asked.

I gestured him over. “Here. The cows all need hay.” I pulled a clump of it apart and scattered it on the floor. “Just spread it out like this in front of them.”

He grabbed some hay from the bale and yanked at it, sending more dust into the air.

I sneezed again.

Nick smiled. “Sorry.”

The three of us worked companionably, distributing grain, feeding the calves, checking on the soon-to-be mothers, and doing the milking itself. We didn’t talk much for the next couple of hours, except for giving instructions to Nick, and I began to breathe easier.

We were almost done milking when Lucy took a break to check on the heifers. Nick and I worked in silence, only once bumping into each other as we reached for a towel.

Lucy was soon back. “The heifers say ‘good morning.’”

I put my towel in her hand. “Thanks. Can you finish up my last one? I’m going to call the milk hauler.”

Lucy took the towel. “When we’re done I need to check on Tess. I’ll be back.”

I gave her a backhand wave as I headed to my office, where I pulled off my stocking cap and sank into my chair. The hauling company answered on the first ring.

“Royalcrest Farm here,” I said. “Wanted to see if you’ll make it out this morning.”

I heard a computer keyboard clicking. “Yep,” the gal said. “We’re planning to be there. But the truck’ll probably be a little late, seeing how the roads are so bad.”

“Still Level Three, from what I hear?”

“Yup. So at least our trucks won’t have to deal with stupid drivers.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I hit the flash button and called Bart’s house.

He growled a hello.

“Hey,” I said.

“Damn, Stella, what news about Mandy and Wolf. I hear you were the last one to see them.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Pretty much.”

“Christ Almighty.” I could picture Bart crossing himself, saying a short prayer for Mandy’s soul. “You hear anything new this morning?”

I rubbed my forehead. “No. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Nothing on this end, either.”

“But you knew them well, right?”

“I ought to. Wolf did my serpent.”

Bart’s snake travels from one wrist, around his shoulder blades, and back down the other arm, the creating of which used up a considerable chunk of time at Wolf Ink.

“So what do you think?” I asked. “Who would do this?”

“Can’t imagine.”

“The cops suspect Wolf, especially since they can’t find him.”

“Huh-uh. No way. He’d never hurt Mandy. Or anybody.”

“I agree. So where do you think he is?”

I heard the flick of a lighter, and Bart sucking on a cigarette. “If I knew, woman, I’d be telling the cops.”

“I know. I just feel so…”

“Responsible?”

“Geez, don’t hold any punches, pal.”

Another inhale. “I’m not saying you
are
responsible, just that knowing you, you’d feel that way since you saw them last.”

Mandy, lying in the snow while I napped.

“There is one thing,” Bart said.

“Yeah? What?”

“Maybe you heard about it. A month ago Wolf and Mandy’s son—”

“Billy.”

“Right. Billy. Anyway, he got messed up at school. Some kids grabbed him at a junior high basketball game, took him to the bathroom, and beat the crap out of him.”

I blinked. “They know who did it?”

“Some high school boys.”

“Why?”

“Not sure. Don’t know any more than that. Wolf and Mandy weren’t talking about it, and the grapevine just had vague details. Nothing in the papers, since they were juvies.”

I let that sink in. “And you haven’t heard from Wolf and Mandy in the past few days? Before they…before yesterday?”

“Not a word.”

I was silent.

“You still there?” Bart asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. If you hear anything else, will you tell me?”

“I’ll tell you. And I’ll do some calling around. See what I can come up with. We gotta find Wolf in one piece. For Billy.”

“For Billy. Talk to you soon.”

I pulled out the phone book to look up the Lansdale police. Shisler’s card was in the house, and I didn’t feel like trudging back there. An officer answered on the first ring.

“Detective Shisler, please,” I said.

“Sorry, she’s not in. You want to leave a message?”

“It’s about the Moores, and she asked me to call if I remembered anything. This is Stella Crown.”

He breathed in sharply. “I’ll relay the information to her and have her call you. Can I have your number, please?”

I gave it to him, and he promised to get a hold of the detective right away. I hung up and stood at my office window, pondering the drifts. Time to get to work if Doug, our milk hauler, would be able to do his job.

The office door opened, and I turned to find Nick staring at some photos I’d hung.

“You’ve done some decorating,” he said. “Your folks?”

“The first one. My mom and dad.”

“And you. Look how cute you were. Two years old?”

“Three.”

He nodded. “So it wasn’t long after that, then, that your father died.”

“Right.”

“How old were you in this one?”

The second picture showed my mom, Howie, and me, leaning against a fence.

“About ten.”

We didn’t say anything as we looked at the last picture. My birthday party, the same day I met Nick. Howie and I sat at a picnic table, happy and comfortable with each other. I turned away, glancing at my wrist, where Howie’s name at least partly commemorated him. I tugged my sleeve over it, hiding it from view.

“So what now?” Nick asked.

“Time to clear out the snow.”

I pulled my stocking cap back on and we went out to the tractor barn, where I had readied the tractor when I’d heard the storm was coming. I pointed Nick toward the snowblower.

“See if you can clear paths to the house and barn so we’re not fighting through it all day. I’ll start with the drive.”

“You got it.”

I found Lucy checking water pipes on the far side of the barn.

“Luce, I’m going on the tractor. If you hear the phone, give me a holler. I’m expecting to hear from the detective.”

She eyed me, pursing her lips, but didn’t ask anything. “No problem.”

For the next hour or so Nick and I worked, creating huge piles of snow, clearing enough space so our milk could be taken. Since milk can only remain in the tank forty-eight hours and Doug hadn’t been to our place since the day before last, he had to have access today, or we’d be screwed. I was thankful the snow hadn’t had a chance to melt and freeze, or the tractor would’ve had a terrible time pushing it out of the way. I’d just hopped down from the tractor to give Nick more instructions when Lucy found us.

“What?” I said. “Phone?”

“Nope. Auger’s frozen.”