A Flight of Fantasy (Sarah Woods Mystery 12) Page 5

  I spent a good ten minutes sifting through her things and found nothing. Not one shred of evidence to suggest she was doing anything nefarious, other than selling her body illegally. I had never really considered prostitution to be a crime, considering both parties were consenting adults. As long as they practiced safely, it was just another business transaction. In fact, some women loved having sex with lots of strangers. Why not get paid for it?

  Not that I’d ever consider doing it myself and I’d certainly never encourage someone I loved to do it. Frankly, the thought of it disgusts me. I’d had enough creeps proposition me while I was a massage therapist. It was one of the reasons I wanted to leave the profession.

  Paying attention to the time, I realized I had been inside Rita’s house for almost twenty minutes. Time to go before my luck ran out.

  As I exited the front door, I made sure to lock up. I removed my gloves and stuffed them in my purse. I confidently walked down the front steps and made my way across the street toward the car, but the Buick was gone.

  I stopped in my tracks and looked around the neighborhood, as nonchalantly as possible. Where had Carter gone?

  I decided to keep walking up the street to where the Buick should have been. Maybe things didn’t work out with the neighbor, and Carter had to leave the area immediately.

  I checked my cell phone and realized that he had left a text message.

  I moved the car. Walk three blocks toward the main street and you’ll find me there.

  When I finally caught up to him, he was leaning on the front bumper, a cup of coffee in each hand. “How’d it go?” he asked, handing me one of them.

  “The house is pristine.” I took a long sip of the hot liquid. “But I couldn’t find anything. If she’s been stealing identities, she keeps all that information in a safe place. Maybe she has a storage unit. Or maybe she keeps stuff at her work office.”

  “I was able to get some information from the neighbor who calls herself Bunny. She wears bifocals and must be in her late seventies. I don’t think she can see beyond three feet. There was no chance she would have seen you going into Reece’s house.”

  “Who did she think you were?”

  “I told her I was from the Town Water District, checking the quality of the tap water in the neighborhood. Poor woman doesn’t get many visitors. She offered to make me lunch.” He patted his belly. “I’ve had worse peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

  “You ate the old woman’s food?” I teased. “How could you stoop so low?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s not often you get a free lunch in this world.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing just how Carter could endear himself to a total stranger in a matter of minutes, especially the sweet old unsuspecting ladies. “Did you get any other information from her?”

  “Yes. She told me she watches the neighbor’s daughter a few nights a week. She really seems to love the girl. Hand painted pictures all over her fridge.”

  “Did you ask her about Reece?”

  “Sort of, without trying to sound too nosy, but all she said was that Reece’s husband had left them a few years ago. She seems to think it was because of the daughter’s condition.”

  “That’s interesting,” I said. “Because I noticed that Rita had a dozen credit cards, all maxed out. Her husband’s name was on all of them. I wonder if he racked up all that debt right before he left. What a jerk.”

  “No kidding.”

  After I finished my coffee I said, “It’s almost two o’clock. Where are we headed now?”

  “Fitch High School where Rita works. We’re going to put a GPS tracker on her car. Maybe we can catch her in the act the next time she tries to con a guy.”

  Chapter 12

  As we entered the parking lot of Fitch High School, we spotted Reece’s red Mazda and parked in the closest spot next to it. I got out of the Buick and noticed a group of teenaged boys sitting on an old car smoking cigarettes. They couldn’t have been older than fourteen. They seemed preoccupied, shouting to each other in antagonistic tones, so they didn’t pay attention to me when I pretended to drop my purse on the ground near Rita’s car. I quickly placed the GPS tracker under the trunk, stood up, and dusted off my hands in a casual manner. When I glanced at the boys, they still paid no attention to me.

  “It’s almost two o’clock,” I said when I got back in the Buick. “School gets out any minute so we should probably go wait somewhere else until Rita is done for the day.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

  There was a Dunkin Donuts across the street from the high school and we parked there. This afforded us a clear shot of the parking lot where we’d see Rita walking to her car.

  “She might have to stay after school to meet with students,” I said. “In a town like this, I have to believe she has her hands full with troubled teens. Man, I don’t think I could do it. She must see all kinds of abuse.”

  “Takes a special person to do that job,” Carter said.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe she wasn’t after Wayne’s personal or financial information. Maybe she was after something else.”

  “Like what?” Carter asked.

  “I don’t know, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who steals from people. I mean, if she was desperate for money, she would have taken one of Wayne’s paintings, or something she could have exchanged for quick cash.”

  “Good point. But time will tell. I say we keep watching her to see if she does it again.”

  Around 2:15, school let out and the parking lot became a hangout of sorts. Smoking, flirting and even a mild fight broke out.

  “Look at that,” I said, pointing to two young punks who seemed to be egging each other on with wild hand gestures. One boy sucker punched the other and went down hard. A group of hecklers gathered around, none of whom helped the injured party. At that point, we couldn’t see what happened because a crowd had formed, blocking our view.

  “What is it about boys and fighting,” I said. “Brian never got into fights. At least, not that I know about.”

  “You see it all the time in lower class neighborhoods,” he said. “Fights were a daily occurrence where I went to school.”

  “Really? Were you ever involved in one?”

  “No, but my best friend Tom had problems with a few bullies in eighth grade. They put Tom in the hospital after a prank they pulled on him.”

  “What did they do to him?”

  “They put a rat in his locker. Tom opened his locker and the rat took a chunk out of his hand. Ended up with rabies. He was in the hospital for weeks and almost died.”

  “That’s unbelievable.” Noting the evil look on Carter’s face, I knew there was more to the story. “So, what did you do to the bullies in retaliation?”

  “Well, Bobby was the leader of all the bullies and he used to drive this Camaro to school every day. He was so proud of that thing, always showing off. So one day during school, I went out to the parking lot and poured a cup of sugar into his gas tank. You have no idea how much I enjoyed watching the tow truck haul it away while everyone gave him shit. Best day of my life.”

  “Did he ever find out it was you who did it?”

  “He had his suspicions I’m sure but he couldn’t prove it was me. I got dirty looks from him and his posse the rest of that year, but he never tried anything funny. I almost wished he had. I’d have been ready for him.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off,” I said. “I can’t afford a new car right now.”

  He laughed. “You haven’t pissed me off once in the two years I’ve known you.”

  “Good. I hope it stays that way.”

  When I looked over toward the high school, it appeared as though the crowd of students had dispersed. One by one, the cars left the parking lot.

  By 2:45, most of the cars had vacated the lot, but the red Mazda remained. Finally, we saw Reece emerge from the side exit of the building, walking with a gir
l who looked pretty young, probably a freshman.

  Rita had an arm wrapped around the girl who was wiping her eyes as if crying. They stopped in front of a beat up old Dodge pick-up. The girl turned away from Rita after the two hugged, and drove off in the truck. Rita stood there until the girl was out of site. Finally, Rita headed toward her Mazda and got in. She sat there for a while as if she’d forgotten how to start the engine. She didn’t appear to be on her cell phone. Maybe she was just taking a moment to decompress from her hectic day.

  “She seems upset,” Carter said. “I wonder what happened to the girl, and why she was crying.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe she failed an exam.”

  “Really?” Carter gave me a sideward glance. “Did you ever cry because you failed an exam?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  After a few minutes, Rita drove out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of her house.

  Carter glanced down at the tracker locator on the tablet in my lap. The red dot on the screen’s map indicated Rita’s car. “She’s either heading home or going to pick up her daughter,” he said. “Unless she’s got an appointment with a John.”

  “Well, first, she’d have to go home to change. Rita Hayworth dressed as a guidance counselor wouldn’t be much of a turn on.”

  Carter started the engine and pulled out into the street behind her.

  Chapter 13

  After Rita had collected her daughter from the Hayward Private School, they stopped at a grocery store. When they came out a few minutes later, the girl had three brightly colored balloons, the strings tied to her wrist. The girl seemed so happy as they walked back to the car.

  “Awe,” I said. “That’s sweet. I must say, Reece seems like a good mother. Look at the way she is with Amy. So gentle and patient. I give her all the credit in the world. As adorable as her daughter is, it can’t be easy.”

  “Sounds like you’re beginning to like this woman. Let’s not forget she’s the subject of this investigation.”

  We followed the red Mazda back to Lincoln Ave. where Carter pulled over to the opposite side of the street, several houses down from Reece’s. “She might not be planning to go anywhere tonight, but I’d like to stay close just in case she decides to go somewhere. Why don’t we get some dinner and keep an eye on the tracker.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m starving.”

  We found a deli shop a few blocks away from Rita’s house and had a leisurely dinner of roast beef sandwiches, potato chips and ginger ale. At 6:45, we noticed Rita was on the move again.

  “Maybe she’s taking her daughter out for ice-cream,” I said, although I had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

  “I guess we’ll find out.” Carter grabbed the keys to the Buick and we hurried back to the car.

  By the time we caught up to her, we were on the 95 turnpike heading south. She maintained the speed limit and stayed in the right hand lane, apparently in no big hurry to get to her destination, wherever that might be.

  We continued to follow her for another ten minutes until she finally flashed her blinker to take exit 67 toward Fitch.

  “Maybe she’s going back to the high school,” I said. “Maybe she forgot something.”

  “Or maybe she’s meeting up with another guy.”

  We continued to follow her through town and expected her to pull into the Fitch High School parking lot but she continued on another few miles. We entered a town called Ashland, and eventually ended up in a nice residential neighborhood.

  When Rita pulled her car over to the side of the road and shut her lights off, Carter did the same. If Rita’s daughter was in the car, she must have been sleeping in the back seat, otherwise I had to assume the girl was at the neighbor’s house. “What the hell is she up to? Is she doing a house call?”

  Carter shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Rita never got out of her car. She just sat in the dark, doing who knows what.

  “Maybe she’s lost.”

  “She’s not lost,” Carter said. “She’s doing research.”

  “Research?” I asked.

  “Maybe there’s a poor sucker who lives in one of these houses, and she’s planning to steal his information, too.”

  “It’s a pretty nice neighborhood. If she’s targeting wealthy men, this makes sense.”

  Carter tapped my arm and pointed out the windshield. “Look, she’s getting out of her car.”

  I got my camera ready and took a bunch of shots of her strolling across the street, heading toward one of the bigger houses on the block. She went up to the door and lifted her hand to knock, but then stopped as she looked in the window. She just stood there, as if contemplating what to do. She lowered her head, stalling with some kind of inner turmoil. Eventually she backed up and ambled back to her car and got in.

  “That’s weird,” Carter said. “Why the change of heart?”

  “Is there any way you can find out who lives in that house?” I asked.

  He was already on his cell phone, punching in numbers. “I might be able to find out quickly by plugging in the address to my program.”

  Reece started her engine and took off. “What are we going to do? Should we follow her?”

  “I want to find out who lives in this house. We’ll know where she’s going.”

  Five minutes later, Carter had a name. “This house belongs to Dr. Darren Wheeler and his wife Sharon.”

  “What kind of doctor?” I asked.

  “No idea, but I can easily find out.”

  I unclasped my seat belt and zipped up my jacket. “While you do that, I’m going out for a little evening stroll. Maybe I can get a glimpse inside the window and see what’s going on.”

  “Okay, but try to be nonchalant about it.”

  It was fully dark at seven o’clock and the night air was chilly. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and meandered across the street toward the doctor’s house. As I slowly passed by, I noticed a light was on in one of the rooms on the first floor. Four people sat around a dining room table eating dinner. The couple was in their late forties and the boy and girl both had to be under twelve years old.

  It warmed my heart to see a family eating together and actually talking to one another. These days, such occurrences seem rare with the lure of technology, always texting on the cell phones, or playing games.

  I continued my stroll to the end of the block, turned around and slowly retraced my steps back. Catching another glimpse into the house, I got a better look at the father this time. He wore a preppy looking cardigan and he had a long, skinny face with a large Adam’s apple. Why would Rita show up at his house during dinnertime? Didn’t she know he had a family?

  Unless Carter was right. Maybe Rita was scoping him out for another reason that involved stealing credit card numbers or the like.

  When I got back to the Buick, there wasn’t much to tell Carter, but he had some information to tell me.

  “Dr. Wheeler is a child psychologist, has had his own practice for eight years. From what I can tell, he’s well respected in his field. No complaints against him. Never been arrested.”

  Warming my hands between my knees, I said, “He seems like a family man. He was having dinner with his wife and two kids.”

  “The only connection I can find here is that Reece and Dr. Wheeler both work with children.”

  “Dr. Wheeler could be one of Rita’s escort clients. But I have no idea why she’d come to his home, unless she planned to tell the wife. But that doesn’t make any sense, either.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Carter said. “Unless Reece just chooses random, wealthy men. She seduces them, and then steals their personal information. Good theory, but the problem is we have absolutely no proof of that.”

  “Maybe it’s time we have another chat with Reece,” I said. “She can’t deny she was here. I have pictures.”

  Carter glanced down at the tracker and the little red dot. “Looks l
ike she’s headed home. Let’s wait until she puts her daughter to bed and then we’ll knock on her door. But I don’t expect she’ll welcome us inside with open arms.”

  Chapter 14

  When we got to Rita’s house twenty minutes later, sure enough, her red Mazda was parked in the driveway once again.

  “It’s almost eight o’clock,” I said. “I have to assume her daughter will be in bed soon. Unless Rita is the kind of mother who lets her kid stay up until she falls asleep on the couch. For some reason, however, I picture Rita as someone who sticks to a schedule.”

  Carter said, “I’m thinking you should go and talk to her by yourself. She might be more inclined to trust you if I’m not there.”

  “If you think that is best, I don’t have a problem with it. I don’t imagine she’ll go crazy on me with her daughter there.”

  When I got to Rita’s front door and knocked, I was surprised to see the little girl peering out at me from behind the screen door. She just stared at me with wide, curious eyes but said nothing.

  “Hello sweetheart,” I said in a soothing voice as I leaned over. “Is your mommy home?”

  She didn’t respond, but I heard her mother calling out from the other room. Apparently, the girl hadn’t learned the dangers of strangers. When Rita came into view, she was out of breath, a momentary look of panic. But when she saw me, her shoulder’s relaxed a bit. “Amy, please go back to your room like I asked.”

  The girl pretended not to hear her mother. She kept staring at me with those big blue eyes. When Rita finally got to the door, she reached down and picked her daughter up. She said to me, “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes,” I said, showing her my private detective license. “My name is Sarah Woods. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  She seemed annoyed but was making an effort to be polite. She adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’m not sure what this is about but now is not a good time. I need to put my daughter to bed pretty soon.”