At a loss for what to do next, I drove aimlessly, stopping once at Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a cream puff. There it occurred to me that I ought to stop at the morgue. It really didn’t make much sense, but I felt that I had to do it.
The attendant looked at my I.D. suspiciously when I told him that I was Lauren’s father. The body had already been identified. Why was my name different than hers? Why did I want to see the body now? Etcetera. I had to do a lot of talking, but the attendant finally let me in. What I saw and especially what I smelled made me regret the steak-and-egg special, and I cursed whoever invented the cream puff. The attendant sensed my discomfort and pointed the way to the rest room.
The rest room was closet size and only had a commode. There was no way I could comfortably bend over, and standing up, there was no way I could heave over my stomach. I started to sweat. Just before complete panic set in, I found the solution. I raised the lid of the tank, braced myself against the back wall, leaned forward, and lost it all. When I finished, I wiped the tank lid with toilet paper, regained my composure, and promised myself that I would go on a diet.
The attendant was waiting at the drawers when I came out. He pulled out a slab and uncovered her face. Her hair was down over her shoulders, and her complexion was bright pink. I wanted to touch her but didn’t. I shook my head, put my hands on my face, and started to turn away. The attendant was about to cover her face when I looked back. Then it struck me. It was her. The girl in my dreams. I felt faint.
I left the morgue more determined than ever to find Lauren’s killer. Maybe I could bully some answers out of her sister. I had to have more information. I drove to Sara’s house with a single purpose. No cars were in the drive. I parked, walked to the door, and banged the knocker instead of ringing the bell.
“What do you want? I told you, the case is over!” She was more than mildly irritated by my presence.
“I don’t quit until I’m finished, Ms. Wright.”
She turned in disgust and began to close the door. I stuck my foot in. She saw it and slammed. I let out a scream and pushed forward. It caught her off balance and she stumbled backward. I was in, though, and closed the door behind me.
“Get out of here or I’ll call the police!” She reached for the phone. “Get out!” she repeated.
“Look, Ms. Wright,” I began, and she dialed 911. “OK, OK, I’m leaving.” My foot throbbed and I felt foolish. She hung up and glared at me.
“Ms. Wright, your sister was murdered, and I want to find the murderer. Please cooperate.”
“Get out!” She picked up the phone again. I turned and opened the door.
“I only want to help.”
“Out! You, you sack of cow turds!”
I closed the door behind me and limped to my car. I thought I heard them all — a sack of cow turds...? I almost smiled.
I didn’t know what to do, so I drove to Joe’s Inn for lunch. When in doubt, eat. It didn’t work very well this time, though. A half hour later, I was still staring at the half-empty plate of spaghetti before me. What did I expect to find out? Obviously, who killed Lauren. Why did Sara hire me? Seeing Lauren in the morgue clouded my mind and rushing to Sara’s house without a plan only got me a sore foot. I’d have to be more careful when I saw Stone. He was certain to know by now that I wasn’t Lauren’s father. What ever made me think I could be a detective? I ordered another half liter of wine and asked the waitress to take my plate.
Male menopause. Maybe that was it, I sighed. The wine didn’t help me think any clearer, but I did feel less anxious. I took out Lauren’s picture and stared at it.
With my wine finished and the picture still before me, I wasn’t any better off than before. No closer to a plan, no idea where to go next. I yawned, paid my chit, and drove home to take a nap.
By the time I arrived there, I was feeling pretty miserable. This playing detective was an old man’s folly. Yet, if not for Lauren, what would my life be? I tossed and turned, it seemed endlessly, before I fell asleep.
“No,” she said. “I won’t let you go.” Her long black hair fell over her shoulders and across my chest as she looked down at me. Her gray eyes were determined yet filled with longing. Her hands were on my shoulders.
I awoke trembling and in a cold sweat. It was evening and the sun had already set. Dusk filtered through my bedroom and covered me like a shroud. I was chilled to the bone.
A hot shower revived my body but not my spirits. I had to find out who killed Lauren. Even if it was the last thing I’d ever do.
Berrini’s was even less crowded that it had been the night before. I took the same stool at the bar. Only yesterday, I thought. It seemed like a month had passed since then. The same bartender was on duty, wearing the same dress, the same smile. I ordered a double bourbon on the rocks. She raised her eyebrows. She remembered what I drank last night.
“Miss, I’m Lauren’s father,” I said when she returned with my drink, “and...”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Wright.” Her face saddened. “Lauren was such a sweet, sensitive girl. I’m really sorry.”
“Can you help me, Miss uh...” I paused and held her gaze. My eyes inadvertently filled with tears.
“Sandra. My name is Sandra. It must have been a terrible shock for you.”
“You see,” I stared into my drink, “I hadn’t seen Lauren for years, and I’m afraid that I never was a very good father. Now that she’s gone, well...” I looked at her. “Could you tell me something about her, please. You know, what she was like, her friends?”
She reached out and touched my hand. “Everybody liked her. She was quiet and...” she paused. I could see her thinking about what she should or shouldn’t say.
“I don’t even know if she had a boyfriend or who her friends were,” I prompted. She removed her hand from mine and started to dry a glass.
“She’d come back to my apartment some nights after work,” she said. “And we’d make a fire, have a hot toddy, and talk. She was moody at times but kept what was bothering her pretty much to herself. The past week or so, we hardly said hello. She seemed nervous and preoccupied. If only I had known! I would have made a point to draw her out. Nobody would have ever guessed that she would do what she did last night.”
“Did she break up with her boyfriend recently?”
“As far as I know, she didn’t have one.” She hesitated. “School was real important to her. Come to think of it, one of her professors came in here one night, and she asked to have the rest of the evening off. I said sure. He was the only man I ever saw her with.”
The man with the cigar who was there last night came out of the side room and stopped at the end of the bar. He then walked toward us.
“Mr. Gray,” the bartender said, “this is Lauren’s father.”
I smiled and extended my hand.
“Like hell he is,” he said peering at me over his glasses. “What do you want here, pal? Who are you?”
I finished my drink in one gulp, put five dollars on the bar, and walked toward the door.
“Don’t come back, if you know what’s good for you,” he said to my back. Outside, I took a deep breath and looked back into the bar. The bartender was gesturing and talking rapidly to him.
I took a chance and drove to Stone’s house. There was a light on upstairs. I walked to the door and rang the bell. The porch light clicked on, and I could hear him come down the steps. He opened the door.
“Mr. Stone, I’m a private detective investigating the death of Lauren Wright and...”