Sketch a Falling Star (13 page)

“Rory, dear girl,
mon amie
, what a lovely surprise.”

“I’m really sorry to disturb you at home,” she said, even though he didn’t sound at all disturbed. In fact, he sounded like someone who’d fallen overboard and was grateful to be thrown a life preserver.

“No, no, not at all,
no hay problema
. How may I be of help?”

Rory explained the strange circumstances about Hobo’s gift and asked if Reggie might have the necessary tools to decipher the note attached to it.

“I believe he just might. I’ll pop over to your house tomorrow and pick up the item.”

“You’ve already gone out of your way for me so many times,” she protested. “Why don’t I drop it off for you?”

“Truth be told, I’m bored beyond endurance,” he admitted. “It turns out I don’t do ‘idle’ very well.”

“In that case, I’d love to show you my new office,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask to tour the house as well.

“Just say when, and I’ll be there bearing cupcakes. I’ve become quite the connoisseur of those dainty treats.”

Chapter 13

B
rian had been renting a furnished one-bedroom condo in Melville. The unit was on the second floor of a two-story building in a large, gated complex. All of the buildings were identical. Winding roads wove through the development as if the builders had belatedly realized that the complex was crying out for a touch of grace. Unfortunately, they wound up creating a confounding maze with roads that circled back on themselves or led to unexpected dead ends. To make matters worse, the address numbers on the buildings were too small to be seen from a passing car, and some of the street signs were missing. Even the navigation system in Rory’s car seemed confused. Once she was inside the complex, it took her an additional ten minutes to find Brian’s building and that was after two phone calls to Clarissa and a couple of U-turns. When she rang the bell, Clarissa took so long to open the door that Rory was starting to wonder if she had the correct apartment after all.

“Don’t worry,” Clarissa said in lieu of “hello” as she let Rory in. A roll of large trash bags and empty boxes of various sizes were scattered across the living room floor. “I haven’t touched anything important. I’ve just been cleaning out the fridge.”

Rory realized her face must have given away what she’d been thinking. She produced a smile and assured Clarissa that she hadn’t been worried at all. Clarissa nodded absently and without another word headed back to the kitchen as if her thoughts had already turned down a different corridor. She seemed a lot less poised than usual, although far from the Clarissa who’d flown into Arizona to identify her son’s remains. When she saw that Rory had followed her into the kitchen, she became flustered.

“Oh Rory, oh my goodness,” she said. “I just left you standing there, didn’t I? You’ll have to excuse me today…I’m not myself…I guess being here with all of Brian’s belongings has had more of an impact on me than I expected.”

“No need to apologize.” Rory remembered only too well how difficult it had been to put her uncle Mac’s affairs in order after his sudden death. It had to be much harder for a mother after the unexpected death of a child. Even a child who’d turned out like Brian. “Is it okay if I start looking around?”

“Of course, of course. You have carte blanche to do whatever needs doing. Nothing is off-limits.”

Rory thanked her and started with the small dining area just beyond the kitchen. There was a table that might have been Formica posing as wood and four upholstered chairs. A hanging lamp of 1980s vintage completed the ensemble. She checked beneath the furniture in case Brian had secured important papers to the undersides and came up empty-handed. Not that she’d expected to find anything.

The dining room flowed into the living room, which was dominated by a sectional sofa in a dark, tweed fabric that was no doubt good for hiding the dirt and stains of numerous tenants. Mounted on the wall across from the couch was a forty-inch flat-screen television. If Brian was like most single people, when he ate at home, he did so sitting on the couch and watching TV. Rory looked behind and under all the cushions. Once again she came up empty. Unless she was planning on prying up the hardwood floor, there was nothing else in the room to inspect. She headed down the hallway in search of the bedroom.

Brian had apparently been using the room as his office as well as his sleeping quarters. A laptop computer and printer occupied the top of an otherwise uncluttered desk. When Rory opened the desk drawers, she found them to be neatly organized. Brian had used the larger bottom drawer as a filing cabinet for a small stack of manila folders. With Clarissa’s permission, she’d take the laptop and folders home, where she would have more time to go through them. The upper drawer held the usual miscellany of office supplies: rubber bands, paper clips, pens and pencils, each in its own little receptacle. Everything in its place. Rory wondered if Clarissa had noticed that at least in this one respect, her son had taken after her.

Across the room was a queen-size bed, the linens balled up in the center as if Brian had been running late to catch the plane that would carry him to the end of his days. The only other furniture in the room was an armoire, its legs scarred from years of combat with a vacuum cleaner. On inspection, the chest and closet revealed the basics of a man’s wardrobe minus whatever casual clothing he’d had with him on the trip. The clothes that were there had high-end labels and were clearly well made. Rory checked all the pockets in case Brian had left anything important in them. All she came up with was some loose change and candy wrappers. He seemed to have been partial to Butterfingers. Rory would have figured him for a Godiva sort of guy.

Before returning to the kitchen, she stopped to check out the small bathroom. In the cabinet beneath the sink, there was a comb, shaving cream, a pack of disposable razors, a toothbrush and toothpaste, mouthwash and soap. The only medication was a nearly empty bottle of Advil. Brian may have been immune to emotional pain or pangs of guilt, but he hadn’t been immune to physical pain. Rory found that thought strangely comforting.

Clarissa was still in the kitchen tying up the trash bag that now held the contents of the refrigerator and pantry. “I want to show you something,” she said when Rory walked in. She picked up a plastic zip-top bag that was lying on the counter. “This was inside an open box of Cheerios. I was emptying the cereal so I could recycle the box when it fell out.”

Even before Rory took the bag from her, it was clear that it held the phony drivers’ licenses and other forms of identification Brian had used to support his various aliases.

“Whoever did these for him was very good,” Rory said as she shuffled through them. She counted seven different names in all. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take these to the police. It might help them close some cold cases.” She’d also ask Zeke to do a Google search on the names and see if he came up with a lead that might point to someone who wanted Brian dead.

“Yes, of course. I want to do whatever I can to make things right,” Clarissa said with a determined lift to her chin, once more the self-possessed woman Rory had come to know. Perhaps finding evidence of her son’s subterfuge had snapped her out of her nostalgia and reminded her why she’d written him off years ago.

“I’d also like to take Brian’s laptop and files with me,” Rory said. “Once I’m finished, I’ll return all of it to you unless the police need it.”

Clarissa told her that would be fine. Rory thanked her and slipped the bag of IDs into her handbag. Then she went back to the bedroom for the laptop and folders before letting herself out.

Z
eke was still resting up from the interview with Richard Ames. The intruder had interrupted the process, setting him back several hours. With that in mind, Rory figured she could count on a pleasant, uneventful meeting with BB. If they stayed in her office, there was a good chance Zeke would never even know the medical examiner had been visiting. Since BB was bringing cupcakes, Rory felt obliged to supply the coffee or tea. She wasn’t sure which he preferred, but she did remember seeing him drink coffee, so she settled on that.

She decided to brew the coffee in the house and take just the carafe out to the office. As soon as she opened the back door, Hobo was at her side, ready for whatever adventure presented itself. Since he’d been alone all morning while she was at Brian’s apartment, she decided to let him tag along. She remembered that BB had once spoken fondly of the dog he’d had as a boy, so there was a good chance he’d enjoy Hobo’s company.

She set the carafe on a small hot plate atop the filing cabinet and laid all the fixings out beside it. At two o’clock on the dot, Hobo jumped up from his place on the couch and started barking. Rory hadn’t heard the SUV pull into the driveway, but she’d learned to trust the dog’s ears over her own. When she went to open the door, Hobo squeezed in front of her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She wasn’t sure whether he wanted to protect her or be the first to welcome their visitor.

Once she managed to open the door, BB was standing there, smiling broadly and holding a cake box large enough to easily accommodate a dozen cupcakes. Hobo, who was always excited to meet someone new, was especially thrilled when that someone came bearing treats. Rory grabbed for his collar a moment too late as he launched himself into one of his two-legged embraces. Before she could change his trajectory, his right front leg grazed the box. BB stumbled back a step, juggling the cupcakes for what seemed like five minutes but in reality was only seconds. Just when it looked like gravity had the upper hand, the medical examiner snatched the box back from its downward tumble. Given Hobo’s love of all things edible, Rory couldn’t help wondering if he’d planned his strategy from the moment he’d smelled cake.

In spite of the whirlwind welcome, BB appeared truly happy to meet Hobo. He passed the box to Rory and hunkered down to the dog’s level, where he administered ear scratches and received a good face washing in return. Once man and dog were both satisfied with their greetings, BB stood up with a few heavy grunts.

“My knees don’t work so well anymore,” he explained stepping into the office. “But then neither does my memory, or I’d remember not to squat like that.”

Rory laughed. It was well known throughout the police department that the medical examiner had a brilliant intellect and a memory like a steel trap in spite of his self-deprecating remarks. “Dogs can make you think you’re a kid again,” she said, “especially dogs like Hobo.”

“Yes, remarkable creatures,
formidable, increíble.
I’m quite sure the human race doesn’t come close to deserving their unconditional love and esteem.”

Rory closed the door behind him, taking care not to snag Hobo’s tail. The small office seemed uncomfortably crowded with the three of them standing there. She’d never felt that way before, but BB was a large man, in both height and girth. And most of Hobo’s DNA had clearly come from the larger, shaggy breeds. She invited BB to have a seat, at which point Hobo laid claim to the couch.

“I see he’s fluent in English.” BB laughed. She started to shoo the dog off, but BB stopped her. “Let him be, let him be; it happens that I’m more of a chair person anyway.” As if to prove the point, he settled himself in the generous armchair with a deep sigh of pleasure.

Rory offered him coffee, which he accepted with a splash of half-and-half but no sweetener. She took hers black, a habit from her college days. When she opened the cake box, she found the cupcakes a little worse for the juggling routine. Rainbows of icing smudged the sides and top of the box. She had to restrain herself from swiping a taste with her finger.

“I’m afraid they didn’t fare too well from Hobo’s greeting,” she said, holding the box out to BB.

“Not to worry—they’ll taste just as fine,” he assured her as he reached in and selected one that was now only modestly covered in chocolate.

Rory went for the pink one, hoping it was strawberry.

Since Hobo appeared to be drooling his way to dehydration, she broke off a piece to give him. He thanked her with a wave of his plumed tail and eyes that begged for more.

Although the cupcakes lived up to BB’s hype, one was Rory’s limit. By the time they’d set their cups aside, BB had polished off four of them as well as a second cup of coffee. While they ate, Rory filled him in on the Brian Carpenter case, ending with the intruder and the toy frog.

She’d stowed the toy, along with a replacement for it, in the empty bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled the two stuffed frogs out now, handing the original one to BB and tossing the new one for Hobo to catch. The dog gave it a couple of tentative chews before dropping it and staring longingly at the mutilated frog that BB was examining.

“Sorry—I’m afraid Hobo made it a little soggy,” she said. “I thought of cutting the tag off the toy, but I was afraid I might compromise the writing on it even more.”

“What’s a little drool between friends?” BB said, squinting at the tag in question. “I can’t make out a single word either. But don’t despair—if it’s decipherable, there’s no one better than Reggie to do it. I must say, whoever thought of this has a good imagination. I’ve never seen a threat conveyed in quite this manner. Not in twenty years of investigating death in every conceivable form. Of course,” he added, “we’re not sure this actually contains a threat.”

“Why else would someone risk a breaking-and-entering conviction just to give my dog a toy?” Rory asked.

“Why indeed?” BB murmured, absently licking a smudge of icing off his hand.

Chapter 14

R
ory was at her kitchen table searching through Brian’s laptop for any clue that might lead them to a potential killer. Zeke was sitting across from her trying to calibrate his energy to the task of going through the file folders. Since there were no handbooks to teach a ghost how to get along in a world meant only for the living, he did all his learning by trial and error. The lighter or more delicate an object, the more difficult it was for him to hone his energy to the point where he could manipulate it without accidentally vaporizing it. Rory had seen more than a few of her belongings sacrificed to the process.