Killing Ways Page 11

  Back in the bullpen, Ren sat at her desk and turned her attention to the case.

  What am I missing in all this?

  Where is the chink?

  ‘Did you ever see the movie The Greatest Show on Earth?’ said Ren, looking up at Everett. ‘Starring the dashing Cornel Wilde.’

  ‘No,’ said Everett.

  ‘I quote the opening in deep tones: “A fierce, primitive fighting force that smashes relentlessly forward against impossible odds: that is the circus — and this is the story of the biggest of the Big Tops — and of the men and women who fight to make it — The Greatest Show on Earth!”’

  ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ said Everett, clapping high, to the right, to the left.

  ‘“Where Death is constantly watching for one frayed rope!”’ said Ren. ‘“One weak link! Or one trace of fear!”’ She leaned back. ‘It freaked me the fuck out. The guy, this dashing trapeze artist, attempts a double somersault without the net. You’re watching him swing back and forth, it’s actually only a short scene, but the tension! And he fucking falls! I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe they let him fall. And I was so furious that he was jumping without a net in the first place. Why, oh, why would you jump without a net? Whyyy? God damn.’

  ‘Seriously – don’t watch that again,’ said Everett. ‘Was there a point to that story?’

  ‘Well, all I’m looking for in this case is one frayed rope,’ said Ren. ‘One weak link!’

  ‘Just don’t ever jump without a net,’ said Everett.

  Wise words …

  And we know how I feel about them.

  ‘God,’ said Ren. ‘I just thought of Carrie Longman’s wrists and the rope. In the literal sense, I don’t want to find any more of that.’

  Janine walked into the bullpen.

  ‘Are you around for drinks later?’ said Ren.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Janine. ‘I’ve got some things to do in the house.’

  ‘Aw, man,’ said Ren. ‘Put them off! Do them another night. Come out.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Janine. ‘I have to clean out my kitchen cabinets before I lose my mind.’

  ‘Oh my God – your kitchen is pristine,’ said Ren. ‘Are you nuts?’

  ‘I will be if I don’t do this,’ said Janine. ‘Anyway, I don’t think I can keep up with you.’

  ‘What?’ said Ren.

  ‘Honestly … your stamina,’ said Janine.

  Don’t know how to take that. It doesn’t sound good.

  ‘You go out, you have fun,’ said Janine. ‘Don’t think about me cleaning out cabinets.’

  Hmmm.

  I hope she’s not pissed at me.

  Ren went into the conference room where therewere folders of information on each case. She called one of the admin staff in and told her she wanted everything photocopied, and stacked in a corner with her name on it.

  That evening, Robbie helped Ren to fill the back seat of the Jeep with them. She unloaded them all in three trips to her apartment.

  Apartment living … grrr! It’s good for exercise. Stay positive.

  She picked up her cell phone to text Everett to come out for drinks. She paused.

  No. I’ll surprise Janine, help her with her cabinets instead. I’m not great with cabinets, but … we can make it fun. Is that ever possible with housework?

  Ren drove the thirty minutes to Golden, listening to a radio station she felt twenty years too old to be loving, that was playing songs she felt twenty years too old to know the lyrics to. When she got to Janine’s, she bounced up the steps to her front door and rang the doorbell.

  Janine opened. ‘Oh … hey!’ She looked a little startled. ‘Uh … come in!’

  Shit. She has a man in here. Robbie?! ‘Um … I thought I’d help you with the cabinets,’ said Ren. ‘Use my stamina for a higher purpose!’

  ‘I abandoned the housework,’ said Janine.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ren.

  Janine nodded. ‘I couldn’t face them in the end.’ She paused. ‘And … a friend called over …’

  A friend?! But who? ‘Do you have a man stashed in there?’

  ‘No!’ said Janine. ‘It’s Terri.’

  Who the heck?

  Janine looked embarrassed. ‘Just a friend. You haven’t met her yet.’

  Or heard you mention her even once.

  ‘Do you want to come in and meet her?’ said Janine.

  Once more with feeling. You look uncomfortable, I feel uncomfortable. ‘No, thanks – I will leave you to it,’ said Ren. ‘I should have texted.’

  ‘Oh my God – you don’t need to text, don’t be ridiculous,’ said Janine. ‘Come in.’

  ‘It’s OK, honestly,’ said Ren. I feel like I’ve caught you cheating. Weirdness. ‘I wanted to stop by and visit Cliff and Brenda anyway while I was here. Don’t worry! I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Ren drove a little down the road and parked.

  Well, that was all rather strange.

  She called Cliff.

  ‘Cliff!’ said Ren. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Getting by, little lady, getting by. Missing you.’

  ‘You have no idea how much I miss you. Right now is the perfect time to hear your voice. How’s Brenda doing? I’m in Golden. I was going to stop by.’

  Silence. ‘Today’s not a great day.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ I hate this. I don’t know what I can possibly say.

  ‘She’s … she looks so different, Ren. She … she even smells different. The chemo …’ He took in a breath. ‘It’s a cruel disease. It’s cruel and the treatment is cruel, and … everything’s changed. It’s … almost like she’s already gone. And I hate myself for saying that. I don’t want her to be gone, but it’s like …’

  ‘She’s right there,’ said Ren. ‘Her heart is right there with you, Cliff. It always will be. You love each other too much.’

  ‘We’re all just … running on empty.’

  ‘You poor things,’ said Ren. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Listen to my bullshit,’ said Cliff.

  ‘I’m here for all forms of bullshit,’ said Ren. ‘And if you want to stop by for coffee if you’re in the city, or come especially, or go for a drink …’

  ‘There’s only so much danger a man can put himself in …’

  They laughed together, and ended the call that way. Then Ren cried.

  My wonderful friends. I don’t want any of you to suffer.

  Ren went back to the apartment and started to unpack the boxes from the office.

  How many more rainforests can I bring into my apartment?

  I miss my friends.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Ren looked through the peephole, saw her neighbor, Lorrie, holding a cardboard box with a bow wrapped around it.

  Shit.

  Ren glanced back at the living room and her wall of photos and arrows and Post-Its.

  You can’t not answer the door. She heard your footsteps. You can’t be that asshole neighbor.

  Ren opened the door.

  ‘Hey, Ren,’ said Lorrie. ‘Consider this my delayed official welcome to the building.’

  Aw! ‘Thank you so much!’

  Come view my Wall of Horrors.

  Lorrie handed her the box. ‘It’s a giant cinnamon bun.’

  You are shitting me. ‘This is my favorite cake on earth!’

  ‘I make them myself,’ said Lorrie. ‘Risky choice of gift, I know. But chocolate cake, I felt, was too predictable.’

  ‘Oh my God – what a perfect risk to have taken,’ said Ren.

  Lorrie beamed. ‘Well, that’s great to hear!’

  And now you’re thinking, ‘Why aren’t you inviting me in?’

  ‘Lorrie, I would love to invite you in right now,’ said Ren. ‘And it feels completely weird taking this gift without inviting you in, but I’ve got a whole work thing going on back there that I need to finish, it’s all over the place and—’

  ‘Don’t worry
!’ said Lorrie. ‘That’s perfectly fine, but if you see a notice by the mailboxes about how rude the new neighbor is …’

  Ren laughed. ‘Thanks for understanding. Let me take your number and we can arrange some night, maybe you could come over for a glass of wine or several bottles …’

  ‘I’m an alcoholic,’ said Lorrie, deadly serious.

  ‘Oh, I—’

  ‘Sooo, bring it on!’

  I like you, enabler neighbor. One more person to party with.

  21

  Ren went into the office the next morning and over to Everett’s desk.

  ‘What’s going on in your tiny mind?’ said Ren.

  ‘The roll of tiny tumbleweeds,’ said Everett.

  ‘Were you out last night?’

  ‘Of my mind,’ said Everett.

  ‘Good for you,’ said Ren. ‘I shall pick you up some pineapple juice.’

  ‘I don’t like pineapples.’

  ‘Who doesn’t like pineapples? Literally, who?’

  ‘Me. I know. It’s a popular fruit – what can I say?’

  ‘How did I only find this out now?’ said Ren.

  ‘You never asked.’

  ‘Do I never ask you about things? Is it all about me?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s OK.’

  ‘I have a question,’ said Ren, ‘Are you skilled with a drill?’

  ‘Are we on euphemisms again?’

  ‘I need someone who can put up a curtain rail,’ said Ren. ‘Someone who has been forewarned that I have OCD tendencies and will be hyper-aware of anything even fractionally off-level—’

  ‘I have just the man for you.’ Everett sat back. ‘He is rigorous in his attention to detail. He has worked on every room of my house.’

  ‘I must see your house some day.’

  ‘You must.’

  ‘OK … send this talented man my way.’

  ‘You might not send him back …’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Ren.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Everett.

  I see the twinkle in your eye. You can’t fool me! I’m guessing the guy is hot. And Everett views me as a philanderess.

  Janine arrived. ‘Greetings, Streetlings.’

  ‘I like that,’ said Ren.

  Janine came over to her desk. ‘I hope I didn’t offend you last night …’

  ‘No!’ said Ren. ‘Not at all. I was the one intruding.’

  ‘You weren’t intruding!’ said Janine. ‘It’s just Terri.’

  ‘Who is Terri?’

  ‘Oh, I met her in the park in Golden – she was walking her dog. You know me – I had to stop. He’s a gorgeous chocolate Lab. I’ve only known her a few months. She seems really nice.’

  There is something a tiny bit off with this tale … or is it just me?

  That night, Ren went to her bipolar support meeting. The main speaker of the night was in his early fifties, with neatly combed brown hair, glasses, a crisp short-sleeved shirt, pants that were tight on the hips, with a crease down the center.

  Wrestled from behind the desk of a geography class.

  ‘Mania is a thing of increases,’ he announced.

  OK – math class, then …

  He continued. ‘Increased appetites for spending, gambling, exercise, sex, alcohol, drugs, risks …’

  Yet people come down so hard on mania …

  ‘There is an increase in the number and speed of thoughts,’ he said, ‘in the speed of speech, in socializing, in levels of irritability, and – literally – an increase in driving speed. You’ll even notice an increase in the incidents of cussing.’

  Shock fucking horror: not the crime of cussing! The crime of cussing is that it exists as a word at all.

  Ren looked at the guy sitting to her right. Sexy, rough-looking, edgy, shaved head, cool blue eyes, late forties.

  What is my thing with the rough guys? And the handsome, older, uptight ones? And the hot younger ones? And the elderly charmers? And the …

  The guy beside her turned and smiled at her. He had a white raised scar that was like an extension of his smile. Don’t judge. Ren smiled back. The guy side-eyed the speaker at the top of the room. Ren nodded. Yes. Poor us.

  She zoned back in on the speaker. ‘Mania works like broad brushstrokes of black paint swept across a rainbow,’ he was saying. ‘But to the manic, the black is neon.’ He paused. ‘And neon is brighter than any rainbow.’

  Ren’s neighbor leaned in to her. ‘We need to find a bar.’ There was a hint of a drawl.

  Nice. ‘Yes,’ said Ren. Yes, we do.

  ‘Want to make a run for it?’

  Totally. But … I’m here by Order of My Boss. There could be spies dotted around this room. ‘I’m going to sit it out,’ said Ren. ‘But what bar are you going to?’

  ‘Nah – I’ll wait too.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s only ten more minutes.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  Check this shit out – the speaker eyeballing us. Stop talking in class, children! Fuck this bullshit.

  They were two beers down and hadn’t exchanged names. It was like a pact.

  The Privacy of Lunatics Act, 1828.

  ‘That guy at the podium,’ said Ren, ‘talking about mania and increases. There was something about him. I get the sense that he had reconstructed himself after a post-mania crash. Like, last week he was in Speedos, bent over a table snorting coke at a pool-party in Vegas, then he collapsed with a nosebleed, ended up in the emergency room, was resuscitated, like ten times, then medicated, cleaned up, styled as a 1980s geography or math teacher … Do you ever think that people restyle themselves post-mania as a form of protection? Like, if they look nerdy on the outside, it’s easier not to become a party person, or attract party people, or they can look in the mirror and not see the party person they were the previous week when they slept with their wife’s best friend or OD’d or ran naked through their upscale gated community. I mean—’

  The guy’s brusque laughter cut her off. ‘When did you ditch your meds?’ There was no mirth in his voice.

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Ren.

  ‘Just … well, you’re talking a mile a minute, and—’ He shrugged.

  And what bipolar love ripped your heart out, dickhead?

  ‘This probably wasn’t a good idea,’ said Ren. She stood up.

  ‘Man, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t even know you. You probably aren’t even bipolar.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ said Ren. ‘And you’re right – I’m not. It’s my brother who’s bipolar.’ Sorry, Matt. Sorry, Jay. And Beau, if you’re looking down on me. But please don’t be looking down on me. No one needs to see that shiz.

  ‘I guess I’ve been burned,’ said the guy. ‘And I haven’t quite got a handle on it.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Ren. And eager for either you or me to leave. ‘You might just need more time.’ Stop engaging.

  The guy nodded. ‘It’s just, I feel … all the things I loved about her were because she was crazy.’

  ‘That’s not really true,’ said Ren. ‘But I understand why you feel that way right now.’ This is all very grim. I just wanted to have some fun. I hate turns for the worse. ‘Shots?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, thanks. Sorry for bringing the misery.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ said Ren. ‘You didn’t. I don’t mind.’

  ‘I guess I slotted you right on into the “beautiful and crazy” category. And that’s one rodeo I don’t want to sign up for.’ He smiled an extra-wide smile. ‘I better be on my way …’

  You be on your way, cowboy.

  ‘You must think I’m crazy myself,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Ren. Weird? Yes. If you were a different type of guy, I might have said that out loud.

  ‘Will you be OK here?’ he said, looking around the bar.

  ‘OK?’ said Ren. I’m in a bar! Filled with strangers! Who have no insight into any part of me! Who know nothing of madness and meds! ‘I’m
perfect.’ Fucking perfect!

  22

  Ren sat at her desk the next morning pulling her drawer open and closed at intervals to refill her glass from a carton of pineapple juice. Everett was slipping her cups of ice from the kitchen.

  ‘Lord have mercy,’ said Ren to no one in particular.

  Her cell phone rang.

  She picked up.

  ‘Is this Special Agent Ren Bryce?’ said the voice.

  Male, older, efficient.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren.

  ‘My name is David White – I got a message from my landlord about CCTV footage from his business in relation to the Hope Coulson murder investigation. As I believe he told you, his business was closed down two weeks prior to her disappearance, so he had no video operational on the Friday night in question. However, I was renting the upstairs apartment at that time. This may not be significant, but I wanted to let you know that I was disturbed that night at about two a.m. by people walking by. I looked out the window – there were three of them – two young women and a man. One of the women had stopped to throw up in the gutter. She was very drunk. So was the guy – he seemed to be her boyfriend. The other woman didn’t seem quite so drunk. When my landlord called about all this and I told him, he said to look at the Hope Coulson case online. And she was definitely the woman I saw throwing up. And the photograph of the fiancé – that was definitely the guy. The other woman – I didn’t get a good look at her. She was blonde, though, thin, quite short.’

  Oh. My. God. Why was Jonathan Briar hiding this?

  ‘Did you hear them speaking?’ said Ren.

  ‘No – they were making a lot of noise, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.’

  ‘Did they stay there for long?’ said Ren.

  ‘Ten minutes at the most.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you for your call, Mr White – if you would kindly leave me your details, that would be great.’

  ‘Yes – please call me at any time if you have any more questions. And if I remember anything else, I’ll call you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Ren took his details, and put the phone down. ‘Looks like Jonathan Briar and Hope Coulson walked home with a mystery lady friend two weeks before Hope disappeared. The question is, was he too hammered to remember that fact? Or is this the lie I was picking up on?’