Running on Empty Read online

  'My pleasure, Little One.'

  AnnaLise was climbing onto her bike when she heard from on-high, 'Oh, and AnnaLise?'

  'Yes?'

  'When you reach Hart's Landing, would you knock on Mr. Katou's door for me and tell him he is to meet Bobby here? To borrow your applicable phrase, "as soon as possible"?'

  Not one to risk Mrs. B's wrath, the first thing AnnaLise did in Hart's Landing was to try and figure out just how one knocked on Ichiro Katou's door.

  She could toss pebbles at the window he'd filled, though the last time AnnaLise had done something similar, it had ended badly.

  So, putting the gravel option on a back-burner, AnnaLise's problem was getting there from here, 'here' being the sidewalk on which she'd stood with Daisy just yesterday.

  Storefront, storefront, storefront... ah, of course. The 'lobby' door she'd seen Bobby use on Saturday. Trying the doorknob, AnnaLise wasn't surprised to find it wouldn't turn, since Katou had buzzed Bobby in. OK, simple enough. She checked the list of apartments and pushed the button next to the handwritten name, 'Katou'.

  Nothing. She stepped back to look at Katou's windows. They looked like they had yesterday, except the man himself wasn't conveniently framed in one. 'Ichiro!' she called up.

  Still no response. Katou was probably en route and, like AnnaLise, had simply left his cell behind.

  Duty attempted, if not done, AnnaLise shifted her gaze to the corner unit Bobby had identified as Dr. Jackson Stanton's.

  No visible lights, though she wouldn't have expected them in the daytime.

  'Hello?' she called up. 'Anyone there?'

  No answer from that corner, either.

  She pushed the button next to the 'Stanton' label.

  In the distance, AnnaLise could hear sirens — likely the Sutherton Volunteer Fire Department readying their trucks for the Labor Day parade. But here, on the island, nary a sound. Nor a flicker of any other life forms.

  If AnnaLise had her phone, she could have called Tucker at Torch to get his father's number. But, of course, she'd left the cell at home. A lesson to be learned for both AnnaLise Griggs and Ichiro Katou, it seemed.

  She climbed back on her bike.

  Maybe the elder Stanton would be at Torch, AnnaLise thought as she pedaled away from Hart's Landing. Dr. Jackson Stanton was an owner, after all, and word had it that father and son had grown very close since the physician's wife — and Tucker's mother — had died.

  Theresa 'Terry' Stanton had been the one who insisted when Tucker was still a baby that her husband take the month of August off from his Miami practice each year to enjoy the mountains of western North Carolina. The cool, crisp weather, the many lakes and streams and, perhaps, most of all, the serenity of just doing nothing.

  'That man would cut people open twenty-four/seven if I let him,' Theresa had once famously said.

  That's why, Daisy had told AnnaLise by phone, the male Stantons' arrival in Sutherton six weeks after Theresa's death last year was widely assumed to be father and son's last visit. Instead, that August turned out to be the first month of their permanent residency and Tucker's enrolling at The University of the Mountain.

  And, unfortunately, his expulsion before the semester's end. One would think it must have stung his father, just named Chief of Medicine for the affiliated University Hospital. But all Jackson said was, 'Terry always maintained Tucker was just like me,' a bemused smile trailing the doctor's remark.

  Then he rented Daisy Griggs' storefront for his son to start a new business.

  It seemed to be working out splendidly so far for both Tucker and Daisy, AnnaLise had to admit as she passed back under the Bradenham Bridge. Who knows, maybe Daisy could even go back to work. Serve coffee and cocktails, if not brew and mix same, respectively. Then beat on bongos during band breaks.

  The thought made AnnaLise smile. Maybe the reason Dr. Stanton hadn't returned her call yesterday was that he just wasn't that concerned about Daisy. After all, the man undoubtedly had other patients who were in much more dire straits.

  Up and over the tree root, around the bend.

  AnnaLise skidded to a stop.

  In front of her in the combined north boat launch/post office parking lot was a tangle of emergency vehicles, bubble lights revolving.

  Another drowning? Two in two days would be a lot even for Main Street. AnnaLise just hoped this one wasn't aided by a bullet. That sort of thing could put a real dent in any town's tourism.

  Chief Chuck Greystone was talking to a tall, slender African-American man.

  Dr. Stanton. Seek and ye shall find, only it appeared that AnnaLise would need to take a number if she wanted a chance to speak with him. Even then, pressing for an appointment might be bad form under the circumstances. Whatever they were.

  The crunch of tires on gravel drew AnnaLise's attention as a panel van pulled in. She recognized the county's longtime medical examiner at the wheel.

  Chuck moved toward the newcomer's vehicle as Dr. Stanton turned and caught sight of AnnaLise.

  She toed down the kickstand on her bike, making sure it was set on asphalt instead of the soft earth, and went to meet him. Still in his early forties, the widower had aged noticeably in the five years since AnnaLise last saw him, his graying hair now more salt than pepper.

  AnnaLise had sent a note when his wife died, so she decided against offering her condolences again.

  'It's good to see you, Doc,' AnnaLise said instead. 'And I got a tour of Torch yesterday. You and Tucker have done a wonderful job with it.'

  'Hey, it's all Tucker,' the doctor said. 'I've been tied up with a special project at the hospital, so I hope you'll accept my apologies for not getting back to you yesterday. I had my hand on the phone to call you this morning and then... well, this.' He pointed toward the pier where AnnaLise could now see the mailboat docked.

  'Oh, goodness,' she said, Daisy forgotten for the moment. 'Was there an accident with the boat? I saw Nicole Goldstein on it earlier. Is she all right?'

  'Nicole's fine,' Dr. Stanton said, pointing to where the college student seemed to be holding court amongst a gaggle of tourists wearing shorts and bearing digital cameras. 'It's Bob Esmond who's badly shook up.'

  AnnaLise followed his hand to see Cap'n Bob sitting on the rear bumper of the EMTs' truck. He was holding a clear mask over his mouth and nose — oxygen, presumably — but was upright.

  'Heart attack?' AnnaLise guessed. Esmond had to be pushing eighty.

  'No, just shock. It's hard to believe, given Main Street's reputation for... misadventure, but he's never snagged a body before.'

  So AnnaLise had been correct in her prediction when she pulled up. Not that it was all that hard in Sutherton. Just imagine the worst and nobody would bet against you.

  'Quite the Labor Day this year,' AnnaLise said.

  'Since most lake accidents are alcohol-related, it's not unusual to see a peak over a long weekend.'

  'So this one involves drinking, too?' AnnaLise was thinking about Rance Smoaks.

  'That, I don't know. I was called just because Bob's been a patient of mine. Cause of death, thankfully, is the medical examiner's bailiwick.' He shook his head. 'It's always harder, though, when it's someone you know.'

  A chill crept up AnnaLise's spine. 'The floater is a local?'

  Dr. Stanton looked taken aback at the term 'floater'.

  'Sorry,' the reporter said, flushing. 'I cover the police beat for my newspaper back in Wisconsin. The... term is part of their vernacular.' And Mama's, as well — not that AnnaLise would mention that.

  'Understood,' Dr. Stanton said. 'We use terms in medicine that would sound pretty callous to lay people, as well.'

  He nodded toward emergency personnel hefting a human-sized tarpaulin up to the deck surface. 'But to answer your question, the victim is relatively new to town.'

  'How new?'

  'Just a few weeks. You wouldn't know him.'

  AnnaLise was getting a bad feeling about this.

&nb
sp; Stanton said, 'The only reason I do—'

  'Is that he's renting an apartment from you,' AnnaLise finished for the doctor as they watched Ichiro Katou's body sling being gently laid onto a gurney.

  Chapter Ten

  'I'm so sorry,' said AnnaLise.

  Knowing that Bobby would be at his mother's house by now, she'd biked back to Bradenham where she found both of them.

  As she broke the news, the rays of a noon sun shimmered on the choppy surface of Lake Sutherton, almost as though the small waves were 'dancing' in strobe lights.

  'This seems very odd.' Mrs. B was sitting on the oversized chaise longue where AnnaLise had found her the first time that day. Bobby, at AnnaLise's request, had taken a seat next to his mother. 'Mr. Katou — despite his use of that cane — seemed otherwise a healthy young man. How did he drown?'

  Mrs. B had taken the news in her stride, in keeping with both her general attitude toward life and her specific attitude toward Katou. Lips closed in a straight line, projecting neither sympathy nor satisfaction.

  Bobby, on the other hand, seemed devastated. 'How could it have happened? And when? Geez, somebody has to notify his family. He told me his grandfather died of cancer earlier this year, but that's all I know.'

  'Easy, my dear.' His mother patted his hand. 'I know Mr. Katou and you were friends, but you cannot be expected to—'

  'If not me, then who?' He yanked his hand out from under hers. 'I don't know if Ichiro had any other ties in this country. He told me it was his first trip to the US.'

  Yet somehow, AnnaLise thought, he ended up in Sutherton. A nice small town, yes, but she couldn't fathom it as the debut destination for most foreign tourists.

  'I didn't see him at Sal's last night,' AnnaLise said. 'Did he truly plan on coming or did you tell Sheree that to...?'

  'Get her off my back?' Bobby shook his head. 'No. Ichiro said he'd come later, after you and I had a chance to catch up.'

  'Ohh,' AnnaLise said, feeling badly, 'I'm sorry. He certainly could have joined us.'

  'I told him that, but he said — ' Bobby cracked a grin for the first time since AnnaLise had broken the news — 'that my "occupation" was good, because he had to something else to do.'

  Like what, AnnaLise wondered. Taking a swim? Going for a boat ride? Hiking the lake trail? At that time of night, who knew?

  'Could you tell...' Bobby hesitated. 'I mean, do they know how long he'd been in the water?'

  'I didn't really see... anything.' Talk about your uncomfortable conversation. As a reporter, AnnaLise was used to asking the hard questions. She certainly should be able to do a better job of answering them.

  Regroup, girl. Bobby deserved to know as much as you do. Or, admittedly in this case, as little. 'I was in the parking lot when they pulled the body... pulled Ichiro from the water, so I couldn't really see anything beyond stick figures. I did talk to Nicole, who was today's runner on the boat. She saw something in the water as they approached the north launch after making their rounds with newspapers and alerted Cap'n Bob.'

  The reporter was editing herself, leaving out the fact that the body had apparently been dragged aways by some extrusion from the hull of the mailboat. 'Cap'n Bob started having heart palpitations, literally, so Nicole sat him down, told the tourists to stay put and jumped off to get help.'

  'Nicole. The Goldstein girl, correct?' Mrs. B said. 'Very impressive composure for someone so young. Such a pity she has no aspirations beyond the University of the Mountain.'

  Bobby, who hadn't had the grades to get into U of M, and AnnaLise, who hadn't had the money, just looked at her.

  Mrs. B spread her hands. 'What?'

  AnnaLise turned back to Bobby. 'Dr. Stanton was there, but only to treat Cap'n Bob. The medical examiner was arriving and Chuck needed to talk to him, so I thought the only way I could help was to ride the short distance back here and let you know what'd happened.'

  'And very considerate of you, Little One,' Mrs. B said. 'Especially given that we were holding lunch.'

  Bobby appeared too upset to respond to his mother's insensitivity. Or maybe he'd just gotten used to it. 'I suppose the police will be able to track down Ichiro's family from his passport.'

  'Just hope he did not carry it with him,' Mrs. B said.

  This time AnnaLise ignored her. 'I'm sure there'll be papers in his apartment, especially since he was planning to stay and open a business here. Besides, what about the ancestry project you told us about?'

  'Oh, of course,' Bobby said. 'His DNA will be on file and the results he's received should have a home address for him.'

  'DNA,' Mrs. B said, shaking her head. 'AnnaLise's mother was telling me about that. An invasion of privacy, in my opinion.'

  'It's entirely voluntary,' AnnaLise pointed out. 'Your DNA profile becomes part of a database, where it can be compared and contrasted with others in the future.'

  'So long-lost relatives can appear on your doorstep,' said Mrs. B. 'Feet planted, but with their hands out.'

  'Except maybe to give, not to receive,' AnnaLise said. 'Look at Kathleen.'

  Mrs. B tick-tocked her head, left-right-left. 'Kathleen whom?'

  AnnaLise didn't mention it should be 'who', not 'whom'. Unless, of course, you changed the syntax so it became 'to whom are you referring?' Or, better yet, 'to which Kathleen...'

  'Don't pretend you don't remember her, Ma,' Bobby blurted irritably. 'She practically lived here during high school.'

  'Of course. The Tullifinny girl,' Mrs. B said tightly. 'Given she rejected you, I thought you might not want to be reminded.'

  'I'm not the one who likes to bury the past.'

  'I buried your father, Bobby, and if I prefer not to talk about what I have lost—'

  'Fine, fine,' Bobby said, holding up his hands. 'Don't.'

  Mother and son glared at each other.

  AnnaLise cleared her throat. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds.'

  'Not at all dear. Now I believe you were talking about Kathleen — ' she threw a look at Bobby — 'and someone giving, not receiving?'

  'Yes,' AnnaLise said uncomfortably. 'And unexpected relatives. Apparently Rance Smoaks's mother left him a fair amount of money.'

  That stopped Mrs. B in her elitist tracks. 'What? That... inebriate?'

  AnnaLise nodded. 'Sheree Pepper called the amount "a bundle".'

  '$1.6 million, to be exact,' Bobby said. 'A life insurance policy that Nanney Estill had forgotten about. When she died last month, Rance became a millionaire overnight.'

  'Just last month?' AnnaLise asked. 'Did he get to spend any of it?'

  'If there's any justice left in this world, only on the Jim Beam bottle he was emptying when he died,' Bobby said. 'Other than that, Kathleen gets it all.'

  'Well, she certainly earned it,' AnnaLise said. 'Whatever did she see in him?'

  'Power,' Mrs. B said. 'Powerful men are immensely attractive.'

  Like... Dickens Hart?

  Bobby was looking at his mother. 'Rance Smoaks was a bully and a drunk.'

  'But chief of police at the time,' AnnaLise said. 'Good-looking, too, back then.'

  'Please,' Bobby said. 'You're not telling me you were "attracted", too.'

  'No, I—'

  'Star-fucker.'

  Bobby and AnnaLise turned to Mrs. B.

  She actually blushed. 'Sorry, but that is what they call people who want to be with someone only because they are a celebrity or person of note.'

  'I've heard the phrase,' AnnaLise said, well aware that she herself could be accused of 'star-fucking.' At least until two weeks ago.

  'Movie actor, famous author, star football player,' Mrs. B prattled on, 'it does not matter. The woman involved is so impressed by the hero's reputation that she forgets he likely still leaves the toilet seat up and his underwear on the floor. All she sees is the glory.'

  Idiot.

  'Glory? What glory?' Bobby demanded. 'Hot shit high-school quarterback turned lukewarm college prospect?'


  'Turned cold-blooded abuser,' AnnaLise added.

  'Why did she stay?' Mrs. B seemed distressed at both the distasteful subject and the inconvenience of someone being abused.

  Bobby shook his head. 'I asked Kathleen, but your guess is as good as mine.'

  AnnaLise nodded. 'I've talked to a lot of victims and there's no one answer to that. In Kathleen's case, at least, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise — not that I would suggest it.'

  'Suggest what?' Bobby's mother asked. 'You are simply not making yourself clear, dear. One wonders what is being taught in schools these days.'

  No need to worry about Mrs. B — she was back to normal.

  'Suggest,' said AnnaLise through clenched teeth, 'that anybody should stay in an abusive situation. In Kathleen's case, it happens she didn't divorce him before he died and, therefore...'

  'Therefore,' Bobby took over, 'she'll inherit his inheritance. If they'd gotten divorced, it would have gone to his heirs. In this case, probably some second-cousin twice-removed.'

  'Instead, Rance is removed,' AnnaLise mused. 'And it took just "once".'

  Silence, and AnnaLise realized both Bobby and his mother were staring at her in horror. 'Not that I'm saying anything of the sort happened, of course.'

  'Of course,' Bobby said, with a head tilt toward his mother for AnnaLise's benefit.

  'Anyway,' AnnaLise continued, trying to oblige with a change of subjects, 'we were talking about DNA?'

  'An abomination,' Mrs. B thundered.

  Whoops. Wrong subject. 'I—'

  'Yet another way of controlling people,' Mrs. B continued as Bobby turned a scathing look on AnnaLise. 'That Big Brothers movie was prophetic.'

  'Big brother, singular,' Bobby corrected. 'But the film was actually 1984.'

  'When?'

  'Not when, what.'

  'What?'

  'The movies, both versions.'

  Mrs. B was struggling to regain ground. 'Fine. I shall take your word on the date, Bobby, as well as the fact that Richard Burton's last picture was Big Brother. Singular.'

  'For the last time, Ma,' Bobby said testily. '1984.'

  AnnaLise stepped in before he knocked his mother's block off. 'The title of the book was 1984, Mrs. B, written by George Orwell in the year 1949. The movie you saw with Richard Burton was released during the year 1984.'