Absence of Alice Page 8

  It was a long shot because it was easy to get costumes on the Internet. But the costume had looked handmade not mass-produced. The shop sat in a depressed-looking strip mall—cracked asphalt, dead plants in splintering planters, and a drooping awning. A sign on the door said Open, so I parked and headed inside.

  “Hi, honey. How can I help you?” A short woman as stout as an antique teapot stood behind a short counter. Gray permed hair. Friendly, smiling face. The shop itself had costumes hanging like pictures on the wall alongside photos of people in costumes. A red velvet curtain covered an entrance to the back of the shop.

  “Wow. Your costumes are beautiful,” I said as I admired a blue satin dress with layers of underskirts that looked fit for Cinderella.

  “Thank you, dear. I made most of them myself. I’m Poppy.”

  “I’m Sarah. I’m going to a party, and a friend recommended I come here.”

  “Naughty or nice?” she asked.

  That was an odd question. “My friend’s very nice.”

  Poppy chuckled. “Do you want to dress naughty or nice? Witch or princess? I have to say you look more like a princess than a witch. Although witch costumes are very popular. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who come in wanting to be sexy witches or nurses. Not my cup of tea, but I have the costumes. The customer’s always right.” She finally took a breath. “If you want to be a sexy witch or any kind of witch for that matter I have something for you. Or I can design something special just for you.”

  I spoke up before she could go on. “I want to be Alice in Wonderland.”

  Poppy frowned, and my heart beat a hopeful beat or two. “I had a lovely Alice in Wonderland costume, but it isn’t here.”

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “Someone rented it and didn’t bring it back.”

  “Maybe they will before the date of my party.”

  Poppy shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder and leaned over the counter. “It’s evidence.”

  I forced myself to widen my eyes so I looked surprised. “Really? Of what?” I would play along with her.

  “A murder. Some poor woman was found dead, dressed in my beautiful costume. The state troopers showed up here. Tracked me down by the labels. It sounded like they were accusing me of murdering the poor dear.”

  It must have been Trooper Kilgard. I gasped like I was shocked by the news. “That’s awful.” And it really was. “Did you know the woman who was murdered? What was her name?” A name would be a wonderful lead.

  “I have no idea. She’s not the one who rented it.”

  I widened my eyes again. “She wasn’t? Who rented it?”

  “A terrible man. Gregory Kiah.”

  The man whose car had been stolen. I had a feeling Gregory hadn’t been here at all. That whoever had stolen his car had been. “Did you wait on him?” Maybe I could find out what he looked like.

  “No. My employee did. She gave a description to the police. Worked with a sketch artist.” Poppy leaned in, lowered her voice. “She said it was like being in a movie. Kind of thrilling.”

  Not thrilling at all from where I stood or for poor Alice in Wonderland. “It must have been nice to help the police by providing a description of that Gregory Kiah person.” I reminded myself to breathe as I waited for her reply. Hoping she’d share what her employee had told the police.

  “It was the least she could do. I mean some maniac comes in here and rents a costume and kills someone. You bet she told them.”

  “What did he look like?” This might be the big break I was looking for.

  Poppy leaned in again. “From what she said, he looked average. And not a tattoo or birthmark to help identify him. Brownish hair, average height, small diamond stud earrings. She was sorry she couldn’t be much help to the police. She took a picture of the sketch when they weren’t looking and gave it to me. I showed it to everyone in the shops around here, but no one recognized him. I want everyone to be safe.”

  “Could I see the picture? Just in case I run into him someplace.” I gave a pretend shudder.

  The woman grabbed her phone off the counter, opened her photo app, and held it out to me. “That’s him.”

  I held Poppy’s phone and studied the face. The photo of the sketch was a bit blurry. But from what I could tell he had nice cheekbones, an elongated chin, and short hair. I didn’t recognize him. How did he know so much about me and I didn’t know him at all? Disappointed, I handed the phone back to Poppy.

  “Would you mind texting it to me? I want to warn my friends. And would you let me know if you see him or find out more about him? I’ll sleep better knowing he’s been caught.”

  “I can do that.”

  I gave her my phone number, and my phone pinged with the photo. “How did he pay for the costume?”

  “You seem awfully curious for someone who wandered in looking for a costume.”

  “I do. It’s my biggest fault. ‘Always with the questions,’ my mom used to say. It drove her nuts.” I wasn’t giving up. “Do you make your clients show their IDs?”

  “Normally.” Poppy shook her head. “My employee is new. She didn’t ask for his ID. That’s how we ended up in this situation. Not having any information except for the name the man gave me on the phone.”

  “When did he call?” I knew I was pushing her, but any tidbit of information might lead me to Stella.

  Poppy wrinkled her brow. “Thursday morning. He reserved the costume and said he’d pick it up Thursday evening. Which he did.”

  “How scary that you talked to someone who’s a killer. Could you tell something was off? Did he have a creepy voice?”

  “Not at all. He sounded normal. Friendly even.”

  “I bet his credit card information helped the police.” I was taking a swag here, but I was running out of questions.

  “He paid with cash.”

  All of this was extremely frustrating, because if Poppy had given any solid leads to the police, I would have gone straight to Pellner to tell him what I knew about Alice in Wonderland’s death and Stella’s kidnapping.

  “I’ve been too trusting, expecting people to do the right thing. Well, not anymore.”

  And yet here she was telling me all kinds of things. “Thank you.” As I turned to walk out of the store, I looked around the room. There were three security cameras. One pointing at the front door, one at the counter, and one at the curtained door to the back. “Could I watch the tape?” I asked, lifting my chin toward a camera.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Poppy demanded.

  “To see what the costume looked like.” Whew. That sounded reasonable.

  “I’d let you, but we had the cameras installed after we found out about the poor woman’s death.”

  Rats. Every time I got my hopes up, they were smacked down like pesky gnats. I would have to try another angle to find Stella.

  “What about a costume, dear?”

  “Let me think on it. I’m not sure I want to dress as Alice in Wonderland anymore.”

  “You’d make a lovely Sleeping Beauty. Or a sexy witch.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” On to plan B. I called Harriet as I walked to my car. “Want to go to Rhode Island with me?” I explained what I knew about Gregory Kiah.

  “Sure, I’ll go,” Harriet said.

  “Thanks. I’ll pick you up around six.”

  * * *

  As I was driving home from Chelmsford, a cop car came up behind me in Ellington and flashed its lights. What now? I pulled into the parking lot of a church, and the cop pulled alongside, driver’s window to driver’s window. It was Pellner. Don’t talk to the police. Rule number one. But what could I do? Pellner would be suspicious and would follow me home if I hadn’t stopped. Better Pellner than Awesome at least.

  Pellner was a few inches taller than my five six. Muscular. He had dimples, but they didn’t soften his face. In fact at times they made him look downright scary. “I need you to come down to the station.
We got an ID on Alice in Wonderland.”

  My heart revved like it did when I found a great bargain. “Who is she?” Maybe this was the break I needed to find Stella, because nothing else was panning out.

  “Follow me to the station, and we’ll talk.”

  “Can’t you just tell me here?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you need me at the station?”

  Pellner rolled up his window instead of answering.

  That was odd. I nodded and watched Pellner head off. What was I going to do? I couldn’t let the kidnapper think I was telling the police about Stella if he found out I was at the station. I had to do something to mitigate that risk. I pulled out my phone and sent a text in response to the last one the kidnapper had sent this morning about going to the auction. I got pulled over by a cop and have to go to the station. I’m not going to say anything about Stella. Or you. I hoped the kidnapper would believe me.

  I sat for a minute waiting for a reply, but didn’t hear back. I put my car in gear to head to the station. Pellner had stopped at the entrance to the church parking lot and was waiting for me. There was no escaping this, but I did want to find out who Alice in Wonderland was. I stuck my phone in my purse and followed him.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later I was walking down a corridor behind Pellner. He stopped in front of a room, opened the door, and stepped back to let me go in first. Such a gentleman. I walked in, spotted Trooper Kilgard sitting behind a desk, and stopped. I glanced over my shoulder at Pellner. Traitor.

  “Have a seat,” Trooper Kilgard said. Her hair was pulled back in a bun again, and her eyes still had no warmth.

  I did as I was told because what choice did I have? Pellner sat in the chair next to mine. The desk was gunmetal gray, the chairs hard, and the walls beige. I was surprised I wasn’t in an interview room.

  “Pellner, Officer Pellner told me you’d identified Alice in Wonderland.” I wondered why I was here. Why Pellner hadn’t just given me the name.

  “Yes. Her name is Crystal Olson. Do you know her?”

  I thought it over before I shook my head. “I don’t remember anyone by that name.” Did that make me sound guilty of something? “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Maybe a photo will prod your memory.”

  They wanted me to look at the photos? Why? As far as they knew I had just had the bad luck of finding her.

  Trooper Kilgard opened a manila folder in front of her and slid a color photo of Crystal over to me. It looked like Crystal was on the autopsy table. The makeup had been washed off her face, but her eyes were closed.

  I shook my head again. “I don’t know her as far as I can tell from that photo.”

  Trooper Kilgard opened the manila folder again and handed me another picture. Crystal was alive in this shot. Her chin was tilted up. She had a sexy smile and her makeup was flawless—pink lips, a light blush, and a smoky eye. Deep blue eyes. And thick, dark hair tumbling down her back like a forties movie star.

  I wondered where they had found this photo of her. “She looks kind of familiar, but I can’t place her.” I’d thought she’d looked familiar the night I’d found her, but still couldn’t come up with why.

  Pellner leaned in. Tapped the photo. “She looks like you.”

  I flinched. “No. She doesn’t. Crystal has brown hair.” We didn’t look alike. I looked back at the photo. “Okay, her eyes look almost the same color, but that’s it.” I shook my head.

  Trooper Kilgard handed me another photo. This one a straight-on shot where it seemed like Crystal was staring directly at me.

  “Her face is the same shape,” Pellner said. “And the tilt of her nose.”

  I took in a sharp breath. Let it out slowly. “Okay, there is some resemblance.” Too much resemblance. My stomach cramped. “What do you know about her?”

  “She was a high-end prostitute working out of Lowell,” Trooper Kilgard said. “The photo is from her website.”

  Lowell. That’s where Seth and I had met at a bar just over two years ago. It was about twenty minutes north of here if there wasn’t much traffic. “Lowell?” I knew it had its share of crime. It was an old mill town with a university. It seemed like an odd place for a high-end prostitute to be working, but what did I know about hookers?

  “She lived in the same apartment building Seth used to live in,” Pellner said.

  That was weird. Seth had lived in Lowell until he’d bought a house in Bedford last year. “Are you saying there’s some connection?” Seth wouldn’t be involved with a prostitute unless he was prosecuting one. He was a victim here too. Kilgard and Pellner must know about the attempted kidnapping.

  “None that we’ve found,” Pellner said.

  “Yet,” Trooper Kilgard said.

  “Did they live in the same building at the same time?” I asked.

  “They overlapped by about six months,” Trooper Kilgard said. “Did you ever run into her there?”

  I guessed that meant Trooper Kilgard knew Seth and I were in a relationship. Somehow that made me uncomfortable. “Not that I remember. But it’s a big apartment complex, and I wasn’t there very often.” I sounded way more defensive than I wanted to.

  “You aren’t remembering much here, are you?” Trooper Kilgard said.

  I was hoping Pellner would jump to my defense, but he stayed quiet. “How did she die?” Time to change the topic.

  “We suspect an overdose. She has a history with drugs,” Trooper Kilgard said. “But toxicology will take weeks to get back. You’re sure you don’t know her?”

  “I’m positive. I don’t think I know any prostitutes.” There I went again with the ambiguous statements. How did Crystal fit in with the kidnapper? It didn’t seem like any of this was very helpful. But maybe this bit of news would make Seth look up old cases with prostitutes. Maybe that would be the link to the kidnapper. What would Seth think when he found out she had lived in the same building as he had? “Did she have a record? A pimp?”

  “One arrest several years ago for drug use. It helped us identify her quickly.”

  “Do you have her phone or computer so you can find out who her clients were?” I asked. Maybe one of her clients had some connection to me.

  “We haven’t found either yet,” Pellner said.

  That was disappointing. We all sat there staring at one another for a few moments. “I need to go,” I said. There was nothing I could help them with. At least not right now.

  Trooper Kilgard nodded her head. I was out of there and in my car calling Seth before Pellner had time to stop me. I didn’t reach Seth and didn’t bother leaving a voicemail because after I thought about it, I realized Seth would already know this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Harriet and I left at six p.m. Pawtucket, Rhode Island was about an hour south on the 95 on a good day. My local friends always teased me for putting “the” in front of the number of a road. But that’s what I’d grown up saying in California. And I still called them freeways instead of highways like they did here.

  Traffic was thick, and heading south was slow even on a Sunday. They did this weird thing in Massachusetts that allowed people to drive on the right shoulder on some portions of the freeway during rush hour. It freaked me out so even though this wasn’t rush hour, I stayed in the middle lane. I told Harriet about Crystal Olson as I drove.

  “That must be scary to find out there’s some resemblance to you.”

  “It’s creepy. Unsettling.” I repressed a shiver. My whole life was unsettled right now.

  “I could do some digging and see if I can find out anything else about her.”

  I thought it over, weighed the risk of the kidnapper finding out. “Okay.”

  “Maybe there’s a link to the kidnapper among her customers.”

  “Or maybe there’s a link between one of her customers and me.”

  Harriet nodded. “Good point.”

  “The police have to be taking a deep dive into who they we
re too.” I hoped they’d find her phone or computer or even whatever phone carrier she used for her service soon. Harriet and I were quiet most of the rest of the way there. Harriet tapping away on her phone. An hour and fifteen minutes later we were pulling up in front of Gregory’s house. Harriet hadn’t found anything out about Crystal Olson that I didn’t already know.

  “Why don’t you park a couple houses down from Kiah’s house,” Harriet said. “Then let’s just take a stroll around the block.”

  I did as instructed, and soon we were walking down the street. There was a chill in the air. Harriet and I were dressed almost alike in sweaters, leggings, and light jackets. I had on flats, and she had on boots. The neighborhood was a mix of ranch houses and duplexes or two families as they called them here. Modest homes on modest lots. At Gregory’s house—a one-story ranch or rambler—lights were on, curtains were open. We slowed in front of his house, both of us craning our necks, looking for glimpses of Stella. No one was in the front room. There was a car in the drive with a rental sticker on it.

  “Gregory’s identity could have been stolen along with his car,” I said. I’d described what the man who’d rented the costume looked like on the drive down and showed her the blurry picture Poppy had sent me.

  Harriet nodded. “In all likelihood that’s the case, but it never hurts to check out a lead.”

  I wondered if Harriet had a gun. All I had was my hairspray and bottle of wine. But the heft of my purse felt good. We turned at the corner and discovered an alley ran behind the houses.

  “Let’s take a walk down the alley,” Harriet said. We passed garbage cans, single car detached garages, swing sets, and dogs in fenced yards. They barked. A lot. But Harriet kept moving, so I did too.