Ready, Aim, Under Fire (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 10) Page 3

  “I appreciate that,” I said. I didn’t need to step much further to know that he was telling the truth. The apartment was a large studio with some clever storage across one wall and the tiniest kitchen I’d ever seen: no more than a hot plate and a sink, which filled the entire counter surface. On the plus side, it had lovely, wide-planked flooring and high ceilings. Light flooded through the tall windows taking up one side. I crossed over, looking out at the street below. “I think you’re right about it being too small for us. I wanted to see the building because an old friend used to live here. Debby Patterson? It was about ten years ago.”

  “That’s a long time to sit on a recommendation.”

  I laughed. “She just got back to town and mentioned how much she enjoyed living here,” I lied, crossing back to Dan. It took me a whole ten seconds to walk the entire studio. “Do you remember her?”

  His eyebrows pinched. “Something about the name sounds familiar.”

  “I wanted to organize a little get-together for her. Maybe some of the other residents knew her? It would be nice for some old faces to be there.”

  “No one has lived here that long. Not for ten years. We’re not that kind of building. People tend to outgrow these apartments. We’re more of a starter home for people. First place they rent out of college. You know, to escape their parents. You see?”

  “I do. You know what would be great? Perhaps I could get your brother’s number and see if he’s available? Debby always said the nicest things about him,” I lied.

  “I can’t give out his number. Plus, I don’t think he has great reception while he’s traveling.”

  “Could I give you mine? If you tell him it’s about Debby Patterson, I’m sure he’ll find a way to call back.” I handed him my card. He took it and scanned it. I could tell the moment he read “Private Investigator” by the way his eyebrows rose. Crocodiles and snakes had my eyebrows arched a lot higher.

  “I’ll let him know next time I speak with him,” he said. “So do you want to fill out an application, or what?”

  “Like you said, I think it’s too small for us, but I appreciate your time,” I told him, reaching to shake his hand. “Thanks for the tour.”

  “Anytime.”

  I showed myself out as he excused himself to attend to a resident’s plumbing issue. My initial foray into Debby’s life failed to glean any extra information but hopefully, my number would reach the landlord so I could ask him directly. It was a shame no other residents were left from a decade ago but I knew it was a long shot.

  I could imagine Debby living there, her first apartment out of college, feeling like a young professional and surrounded by others in the same position just starting to make their way in the world. So why would she disappear? Or, as she claimed now, according to the letter Garrett included in the file, suddenly take off and leave? What could have happened to make her skip out on her rent and jump on a plane to enter an uncertain future? Few people entered into such a drastic life decision without either a great deal of planning and anticipation, or because something horrible happened that changed the way they looked at everything. For me, the horrible event was an impulse sign up for the army but fortunately that only lasted a few weeks before they’d not-so-polity suggested me and the army would never be happy together. Debby’s life change had last ten years

  With the door shut behind me and my car safely parked, I consulted my Maps app and took off on foot for the graphic design studio where she was last employed.

  The fifteen-minute walk was pleasant and I enjoyed the back streets of Montgomery, noting things I’d never noticed before. The app took me along a pedestrian-only zone, flanked on either side with juice bars staffed by young men wearing enormously bushy beards, cafes with pretty teacups lining the walls, and boutiques selling the latest fashions and gifts. Hip apartments nestled among the vibrant office buildings, their architecture restored to pre-war grandeur. Apparently, I had wandered into trendy Montgomery without even trying.

  “You have reached your destination,” said my phone. I switched off the app and looked up. The building was a squat, three-story but had been prettied up by two bay trees flanking the glass doors. I stepped inside and marched over to the reception desk.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Litmus Design,” I told the red-lipped receptionist.

  “We don’t have any business by that name,” she replied, consulting a list with one dangerously pointed fingernail. “We have a vlogger studio, a production office, a digital consultancy and a food publisher.”

  “I think they were here ten years ago. Maybe they moved on? I’m trying to find someone who worked with Debby Patterson.”

  The receptionist glanced up. Or, I thought she did. With eyelashes more than an inch long, I had no idea what was going on under those eyelids. “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know anyone who would have an idea?”

  “Um…” She pondered that and tipped her chin to the ceiling before her eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites visible. A look that had once, undoubtedly, terrified her parents and teachers. “So, no,” she said after a long look into her own brain.

  “Do you know if anyone else worked here ten years ago?”

  “Ten years ago, I was in elementary school. That was, like, fifty years ago.”

  I blinked. “I’m pretty sure it was ten. What’s a vlogger?” I asked, immediately regretting it.

  “Oh, babe,” pouted the receptionist. “A vlogger is now.”

  “Okay,” I said, deciding I would find out later. “Do you know where Litmus Design might have moved to?”

  “Have you tried the Internet? It has, like, everything. Like, your generation’s Yellow Pages.”

  “Thank you so much,” I faux-smiled and turned to leave before, I, like, exploded!

  Outside the sputtering rain had begun in earnest, fat drops hitting the sidewalk. I reached for the hood of my purple jacket and pulled it over my head, wondering if I needed to turn the app on again to find my way back to the car. I was already rehearsing what to say to Debby’s parents about their magically reappearing daughter before my foot hit the sidewalk.

  Chapter Three

  Debby Patterson’s parents lived in the same house they’d lived in when their daughter first went missing. For me, that was excellent news! If I drew a third strike on Debby’s past, after my failed attempts to look into her landlord and previous employer, I would have had to renew my search efforts back at the office. For me, it meant a lot of Internet and database searching, not to mention, a little begging to Lucas.

  Property records showed the Pattersons still lived on Lincoln Street, a lovely avenue comprised of large homes and small, pristine lawns. With matching doors and windows at each house, it was the epitome of cookie cutter conformity. I wondered if the residents got a discount for bulk-buying minivans, although the Pattersons had a nice Mercedes parked in their driveway.

  I knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting for someone to answer.

  The woman who appeared had the loveliest wavy, red hair and big, green eyes. She wore a pantsuit that suggested she was a professional in some capacity although I wasn’t sure what. “We don’t buy at the door,” she said, glancing over at me with visible disinterest.

  I held my hands up. “Not selling anything,” I assured her. “Actually, I’m here on a follow-up call from the Montgomery Police Department. My name is Lexi Graves. May I speak with you, Mrs. Patterson?” There was no need to tell her it wasn’t strictly official business but fortunately, she didn’t ask to see a badge. If she had, I was prepared with a little speech about consulting for MPD and only hoped that Garrett would back it up.

  She frowned. “Is this about Debby? We already went down to the station. I thought everything was all cleared up?”

  “Just dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s, ma’am.” I held up the clipboard I’d armed myself with partly as a prop, and partly so I could actually take notes.

  She stepped back and opened
the door wider. “Come in. I just got home and was going to get changed for my tennis lesson.”

  “I promise I will be as quick as I can.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  I followed Mrs. Patterson into the living room, observing the large, beige couches and framed watercolors of flowers. On the mantel was a large, silver framed photo of a man between two women. The woman on the right was clearly Mrs. Patterson. The other was younger with pale brown hair. She didn’t look a lot like the portrait photo of Debby that Garrett kept in his file but she must have only been in her teens when this photo was taken.

  “I just need to check over a few things for the paperwork,” I told her, trying to sound as nonchalant as I could. “I noted in the file that the landlord originally filed the missing person report but there was no reason stating why neither one of you didn’t.”

  Mrs. Patterson took a deep breath. “I know it sounds bad but my husband and I didn’t think we had to.”

  “You weren’t worried?”

  “No, not at all. Debby has always been terrible about calling so it wasn’t unusual for us not to hear from her. She was forgetful too. Plus, she warned us that she was throwing herself into her new job so we figured she’d drop by when she was good and ready.”

  “Did she often do things like that?”

  “Frequently.” Mrs. Patterson shrugged but if she were disappointed, she didn’t show it.

  I pretended to check a box on my clipboard. “When did you first realize she was missing?”

  “When her work called and said she hadn’t shown up in a few days. That’s when we started to get worried.”

  “Aha.” I nodded, making a note. “Everything okay at work?”

  “Debby said she was tired but she wanted to put in the extra hours. It was her first real job out of college and she was trying to stay focused.”

  “Any problems with colleagues?”

  “I don’t think so. She never mentioned any.”

  “What about with her landlord?”

  “No. She always said he was nice.”

  “I was trying to locate a list of her friends. Did you provide that to MPD?”

  “She didn’t have many friends. She didn’t keep in touch with any of the kids from high school or college. She mostly kept to herself except for a couple of friends. Anna Colby and Marley McFadden. I already told the detective about them.”

  “Do you know where they are now?”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I think Anna might have gotten married a few years ago.”

  “And Marley?”

  “I think she moved away after high school. I think they still kept in touch although I’m not sure where she is now.”

  “I see from the notes that you wanted to close the case shortly after it was opened.” I paused, waiting for Mrs. Patterson to fill in the blanks even though I already knew about the postcards.

  “That’s right. Two months later, Debby sent us a postcard. It was a huge relief to her father and me.”

  “I’m sure it was. Did you keep a copy of it?”

  “I did and I gave a copy to the detective.”

  “It must be in the file at the station,” I lied smoothly. “That was the only communication?”

  “No, there were more. Every few weeks. We started getting emails too. Debby decided she wanted to travel. She realized work wasn’t going in the direction she liked and she wanted to try something new. So, you see, she wasn’t missing after all! It was simply a big misunderstanding.”

  “Did that sound normal to you? People don’t normally take off without telling their families first.”

  “I did find it puzzling initially, so I asked her. She said she had a bit of a crisis and just decided one day to go away to work out what she wanted to do with her life. She didn’t want to be talked out of it so she didn’t tell anyone.”

  “But…”

  “It was typical Debby,” Mrs. Patterson cut in. “She would get an idea into her head and just run with it.”

  “So she’d taken off before?”

  “She switched colleges at the last minute. She walked out of her summer job. She was supposed to visit my sister but instead, she got on a plane to LA and didn’t even tell anyone until my sister called when the plane she was supposed to be flying on touched down. We didn’t hear from Debby for two weeks! She said she forgot!”

  “So going abroad so suddenly seemed like something she would do,” I surmised. It would have been something that could have gotten me into a whole lot of trouble with my family. I couldn’t imagine taking off and forgetting to tell them. I could never start planning a huge change in my life without their input. It appeared that Debby wasn’t as concerned as I was with other people’s feelings. Given the nonchalant manner in which Mrs. Patterson told me what happened, perhaps they had become resigned to it.

  “Unfortunately. Listen, Officer…”

  “Graves,” I supplied, hoping that I wouldn’t get into trouble later. It wasn’t like I could help what Mrs. Patterson assumed.

  “Officer Graves,” she started again, “I don’t know what else I can tell you that I didn’t tell I-don’t-know-how-many detectives ten years ago and fairly recently, too. We’re just so happy Debby decided to return home.”

  “Did she tell you she was coming home?”

  Mrs. Patterson laughed. “Would you be surprised if I said no? She just said she missed us and was coming home.”

  “There’s just one more thing. Do you have any photos of Debby? I have a really old photo but I can’t find another one.” I pretended to flip the pages, then looked up, plastering an apologetic look on my face. “It’s for the people upstairs. They’re always worried about litigation.” I hoped Mrs. Patterson wouldn’t ask what on earth that meant. I was in luck when she nodded.

  “There’s a few around the house but we’re not big camera people. There’s a family shot on the mantel,” she said, pointing. “And I think Debby has some others in her old bedroom.”

  “Her bedroom is still intact?”

  “I never really had the heart to change it. We don’t need the space plus she’s my only child.”

  “My mom feels the same,” I said, although it couldn’t be further from the truth. My parents had five children with a wide range of ages and I was the youngest. As my older brothers and sister gradually left home, I ended up with my own room. I was pretty sure my old bedroom was now a guestroom for my nieces and nephews. Almost everything was changed, from the painted walls to the furniture.

  “Do you have children?”

  “No.”

  “Having a child is a strange thing. You think you have all the time in the world, then one day, they’re eighteen years old, and all they want to do is escape from you without explaining themselves to anyone.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to confide in Mrs. Patterson that I’d been escaping on a regular basis since my mid-teens. I closed my mouth again, pretty sure now wasn’t the best time. Instead, I asked, “May I see her room?”

  Mrs. Patterson checked her watch. “My friend will be here soon.”

  “It’s all I need to see,” I told her. “Then I can finish my report.”

  “Come this way.” Instead of going upstairs, Mrs. Patterson led me toward the back of the house and opened a door. “This is Debby’s room.”

  “Is she staying with you now that she’s back in town?” I asked.

  “No. She has a hotel room. She likes her space. I guess after traveling so long, one gets used to it.”

  “I guess,” I agreed.

  “The photos are over here on the bookcase,” she said, crossing the room. She picked up a couple of photos and handed them to me. I saw the same framed photo as the one on the mantel but a smaller version. In the other one were three teens and I recognized Debby on the left. “This is Marley and Anna. Marley had this framed for Debby for a birthday present.”

  “That’s a thoughtful gift,” I murmured, looking closer. The girl called Marley had
the same haircut as Debby and seemed the same height. The other girl was a few inches taller and black.

  “Debby thought so too. She never bothered with photos. She always asked what was the point? She could be looking at stuff for real, not looking through a lens at real stuff.”

  The doorbell chimed and Mrs. Patterson glanced over. “That must be Fiona. I’ll be right back.” The moment she left the room, I took out my phone and snapped pictures of the photos, making a mental note to find both Marley and Anna later on. I had to get their take on all the events. I wondered if they thought Debby’s disappearing act was regular behavior for their friend too.

  While alone, I looked around the room carefully. Double bed in the middle, plain blue duvet with pink trim. Blue and white rug underneath. A desk that didn’t hold much although I could imagine it covered with high school texts. Now there were just a few notepads and a yearbook along with a couple of paperbacks stacked on top of each other. I picked up the novels. Both were trashy, teenage romance novels. I returned them to their place.

  A big, white mirror hung on the wall above and I wondered if Debby used the desk as a dressing table too. I opened the drawers and found each of them empty. The closet held a few clothes on hangers. Nothing remarkable. No prom dress, I noted. I wondered if the forgetful, self-absorbed Debby even attended the prom. Perhaps she found something better to do at the last minute. I wondered if she stood up her prom date and emailed him two weeks later to tell him she bailed.

  Taking another look, I noticed the lack of college paraphernalia. No college mug or sweatshirt, no varsity pennant hanging anywhere. No photos from that whole era of her life.

  “My friend is here,” said Mrs. Patterson, her footsteps sounding soft on the carpet. “Was there anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” I smiled at her as I crossed the room to where she waited in the doorway. “Thanks for all your time.”

  “Does this mean it’s over?” she inquired as we walked to the door. A woman waited there, dressed in tennis whites, her sweatshirt tied casually around her shoulders. She smiled as we walked over.