Gone Missing: A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 2 Read online

  GONE MISSING

  By

  R. Lanier Clemons

  Copyright © 2015 by R. Lanier Clemons

  Gone Missing is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Journey Well Books. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015915294

  Cover design and interior formatting by Ebook Launch, www.ebooklaunch.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Dead men do not steal jewelry.

  Neither do ghosts, boogeymen or poltergeists. The rational side of Jonelle Sweet’s brain knew this. Now all she had to do was convince the elderly woman sitting before her. Six months ago her uncle Marvin Shorter gave Jonelle the chance to work for him as a rookie private investigator. She imagined herself prowling about in darkened alleys, tailing suspected criminals and seeking out those who slink just below the law. Instead, her first real case wanted her to deal with a thieving ghost.

  “Now, let’s go over this one more time Mrs. Piedmont,” she said.

  “Please, call me Sally.”

  Jonelle smiled at the woman before her. Tight, silver curls framed the round face. Pale blue eyes, still sharp in spite of the woman’s advanced age, stared without blinking into Jonelle’s own deep brown ones.

  Jonelle scanned Sally’s intake questionnaire displayed on the computer screen. The form said the client required the assistance of Shorter Investigative Services to search for and recover two pieces of jewelry which disappeared from Sally Piedmont, aged eighty-four. The first item was a twenty-four carat gold seahorse-shaped pin inlaid with diamonds and with one ruby eye.

  “If I understand correctly, you think your husband Percy stole your jewelry. Is that right?”

  Sally nodded.

  “Um, what is the value of the pin, Sally?”

  Sally shrugged. “Don’t really know, dear. Percy never actually said.”

  Jonelle sighed. Here we go. “Right. Percy. About that. You indicated Percy’s been dead two years. So, you think he stole the jewelry before he died. Is that what you mean?”

  The softly lined face broke into a big smile. “Oh no, dear. This just happened last week.”

  Damn. Jonelle suppressed a groan. Marvin warned her; take the woman’s information and explain that the firm didn’t handle cases where dead people stole property. Besides, Marvin had also given her another case, and that client sat in the waiting room. She touched her mini handcuff and pistol necklace, a habit that helped her think. A gift from her aunt and uncle, the necklace was important to her and she didn’t know what she’d do if she ever lost it.

  “What about this second item? The strand of pearls with the diamond clasp?”

  “Same thing,” Sally said.

  “Percy again?”

  Sally nodded.

  “Tell you what. I’ll stop by your place today, around three. Have a look around.”

  “And I’ll make tea. Or would you prefer coffee?” Sally asked, placing her hand over her mouth and mumbling. Jonelle made out “cookies”, and “sandwiches.” She couldn’t discern the rest of what Sally said.

  “Whatever’s easiest. Please don’t go to any trouble.”

  As Jonelle rose to escort Sally out of her office, she bumped her knee against the desk. “Damn!” Jonelle looked sheepishly at Sally. “Sorry. Still getting used to how small it is in here. Third time I’ve done that this morning. Good thing I’ve got this little window.” Jonelle pointed up and behind her back. She could only spend twenty or thirty minutes at a time inside the tiny space before her claustrophobia kicked in.

  Sally looked around the office as if noticing it for the first time. “It is a little cramped. You think maybe you should get a bigger place?”

  Jonelle didn’t think the time was right to ask her uncle for a larger office. She’d make do with the small wooden desk and two-drawer metal file cabinet purchased from Goodwill. As it stood, the office supplies ended up in the back of the coat closet so they could convert the storage room for her. Renovations to the business were on hold until the sale of the office next door went through and the space could expand. Until then, Jonelle was grateful for what she had and had no intention of complaining—at least not yet.

  “We’re working on it.”

  She sidled around the desk, narrowly missing upsetting the small trashcan. “’Course, I’m on a diet now so that should help some.” Jonelle touched her stomach.

  Sally smiled. “You look fine to me dear. A little extra meat on the bones is a good thing.” She patted Jonelle’s arm as the two left the office.

  Jonelle ushered Sally to the reception area. “I’m going to Mrs. Piedmont’s home today around three this afternoon. If Marvin needs me, here’s where I’ll be. Okay, Rainey?” The receptionist suppressed a smile as she took the memo and noted the appointment on the calendar. As Jonelle said goodbye to Sally, Rainey indicated Jonelle’s next client, seated on one of the dark blue upholstered chairs lined up against the far wall. “This is Ms. Marcella Abbott. Ms. Abbott, this is Mrs. Sweet.”

  “You can just call me Marcella,” she said, rising from the chair.

  “Pleased to meet you, Marcella. And you can call me Jonelle.” She grasped Marcella’s hand and resisted the impulse to wipe the dampness on her skirt. The tiny woman looked around the reception area as if waiting to receive bad news. Sounds of conversations and laughter from other open doors, made the woman pause.

  “My office is down here,” Jonelle said, arm raised, pointing down the hall. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Soda?”

  Marcella shook her head and remained rooted to the spot, arms clamped around a black leather shoulder bag.

  “I just need to ask a few, routine questions,” Jonelle said. Sensing the woman’s nervousness, she added, “But, if you’d rather do it some other time, that’s not a problem. I understand.”

  “No, I need to do this now. I’m okay. Really. It’s that I’ve never…” Marcella brushed thin brown hair away from her forehead.

 
Jonelle nodded and led the way down the narrow hall and after apologizing for the second time that morning about the tight squeeze, gestured to the one client chair.

  “Ms. Gottzchek, Rainey, already input some basic information about your case into the computer.” Jonelle punched a few keys. “It says here you’d like us to find a missing person. Is this a relative?” Pleased this next case involved a living, breathing person, Jonelle settled back and waited for Marcella’s response.

  Before answering, Marcella reached inside her bag and took out a flier. “This is her. She’s missed three day’s work. I went to her apartment when she didn’t show up after that first day and no one’s there. And it doesn’t look like anything’s missing. I have a key,” she quickly added.

  Jonelle took the paper from the woman’s hand, scanned the contents and frowned.

  “I’ve seen this picture a few places around town.” The black-and-white photo showed a woman with heavy eyeliner around the eyes, long dark hair, and a large beauty mark on her left cheek. The face was long and narrow—not pretty, but not ugly either. What one would call, “interesting.” The toothy smile staring from the sheet almost covered the entire lower half of the face.

  “Have the police been notified?”

  “Um… well I tried. But, you know.” Small hazel eyes darted around the office. An image of a tiny bird, trapped in a room and frantic to find some way out came to mind.

  Jonelle waited for the woman to finish. As a former campus security officer, she’d become pretty astute at judging character. Marcella’s childlike hands played with the zipper on her oversized bag with such intensity, Jonelle was ready to duck should the thing dislodge and launch itself at her face. She smiled patiently as the seconds ticked by.

  Marcella cleared her throat. “Um, um, okay, okay. See, her being an adult and all they—the police—figured she just took off.”

  “How do you know she didn’t?”

  “’Cause I just know. All right? Sorry,” she said, noticing the surprised look on Jonelle’s face. “It’s just that no one seems to want to do anything.”

  The reaction Marcella displayed seemed out of place, and Jonelle wondered about the relationship between the two.

  Marcella sighed deeply, as if reading Jonelle’s mind. “We’re friends. Very good friends. I’m helping her through some, uh, issues and I need to find out what happened to her pretty quick.”

  Jonelle organized her thoughts, and made her face as passive as possible. She held back all the questions swirling through her head, and took a deep breath.

  “Let’s start at the beginning. When did you last see her?”

  Marcella looked up at the small window behind the desk. “Last Saturday. I was helping her get her costume ready for the big parade.”

  Jonelle sat up straighter. “Parade? What parade? The only parade I know of last week was the LGBT Pride parade for…” She stopped and stared at Marcella. Jonelle picked up the flier. She scrutinized the picture, and looked down at the name. “LucieBlu Bonderant? Is that her real name?”

  Marcella shrugged. “Sorta. Her legal name, that is, the one her parents gave her, is Lawrence Michael Brown. She’s changing it to reflect who she really is.”

  Jonelle considered the woman sitting across from her.

  Marcella nodded.

  “Oh,” Jonelle said.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right. Your first real cases after doing all that grunt work for the past six months are a demented old lady and a missing gay person. Both of them white. Is that right?” Adrienne stopped searching through Jonelle’s refrigerator and raised an eyebrow at her best friend.

  Jonelle slumped against the kitchen counter. “Doesn’t matter what color they are. Technically, LucieBlu is transgender, not gay, but, yeah, guess that’s it on the nose.”

  On vacation until late August when the university opened for the fall semester, Adrienne had stopped by for lunch at Jonelle’s request. Jonelle needed her best friend’s perspective before facing Sally Piedmont later that afternoon.

  “Sally’s not a problem, and I don’t think she’s demented. Maybe a little confused. My guess is she just forgot where she put the pieces she claims her late husband stole. I’m going over to check out her place, make sure things are secured, and try to convince her to put her jewelry in a safe deposit box. That oughta keep her from thinking Percy is taking her valuables.”

  Adrienne returned to the dining room with two containers of yogurt, an orange, a box of wheat crackers, and a diet soda. She sat down and motioned to Jonelle.

  “So, the old lady is okay with a black woman going through her things, huh?”

  “Stop calling her ‘old lady,’ ” Jonelle said, pushing away from the counter. She walked over and sat at the table. “Her name is Sally and I kinda like her. It’s the other one I’m not too sure about. And how do you stay so damn skinny eating like that?” Jonelle looked at the apple in her hand with distaste before taking a bite.

  After swallowing the last bit of yogurt from the first container, Adrienne removed the lid from the second before responding.

  “It’s all metabolism. If you remember, I was always on the small side, even in school. Now, about that other one. Is she a he, or is he a she, or both? You afraid she/he’s gonna make a pass at you or something?”

  “No! I don’t know. Oh, hell. What’s the matter with me? I’m an open, intelligent person, don’t you think? And Marcella’s a she, not a she/he.”

  Adrienne grunted her reply, mouth full of crackers.

  Jonelle sat at the dining room table, hand cupped underneath her chin. “After she said the woman was a friend and they were going to a LGBT pride parade, and he, I mean she, changed his, um, her name, I looked everywhere in that tiny closet of an office, except at the client. Discovered two cracks in the wall and a hole near the door. I feel like such an idiot.”

  “And what kinda name is ‘LucieBlu’ anyway? Reminds me of the ‘Beverly Hillbillies’.”

  “Apparently she wanted something old-timey yet theatrical. Before she went missing, she’d answered a casting call.” Jonelle rolled her eyes. “Marcella says LucieBlu wants to work on the stage.”

  “I’ll just bet she does. Tell Marvin you can’t handle it then.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Adrienne rose from the table and patted Jonelle on the shoulder. “Sure you can. And if she tries anything, just punch her out.” Adrienne laughed at the shocked expression on Jonelle’s face.

  “I’ll just have to deal with… whatever. Or maybe I can start wearing my wedding ring again. Though I finally got the nerve to take it off.” Jonelle regarded her bare ring finger, remembering the brief marriage and subsequent widowhood.

  “Yeah, right. That oughta ward off the evil spirits. Set up a, whatchacallit? Force field or something.” Adrienne snickered.

  Jonelle looked over at Adrienne and scowled.

  “Well, gotta go girlfriend,” Adrienne said. “Places to go, people to see,” she added in a sing-song voice.

  Jonelle checked her watch. Time for her meeting with Sally. She accompanied Adrienne to the door and grabbed her bag from the entryway table.

  As the two of them stood in the hall outside Jonelle’s condo, Adrienne cocked her head.

  “Hey. It’s quiet. How come I don’t hear Hamilton playing?”

  “He’s giving a concert in Philadelphia.”

  “Hmm. So, when’s he coming back?”

  Jonelle sighed. Try as she might to discourage Adrienne from obsessing about Hamilton Yee, her best friend was determined to get next to the concert cellist. “Will you please leave Hamilton alone? The man has to concentrate on his music.”

  “Yeah, well he can’t fiddle with his fiddle all the time. Right?”

  “I will not dignify that with an answer.”

  Giggling together, they parted company on the sidewalk.

  “Let me know how it goes with the old… uh, Sally. If you need an
y extra ghost busting skills, gimme a call.” Adrienne waved good-bye.

  “Very funny,” Jonelle called after her friend. After all she’d been though so far that day, maybe a little paranormal activity was what she needed.

  CHAPTER 3

  After she loaded Sally’s address into her GPS, Jonelle slid her seven-year-old green Jeep in gear and headed down the tree-lined street. She opened all the windows to let the warm breeze flow through the vehicle and reveled in the air’s sweet lilac smell. She loved the neighborhood and was glad she had the foresight to purchase her unit instead of moving to a newer place. The old brick garden-style apartment building was renovated to make four spacious units. Not only did Jonelle love the living space, she got along great with her three neighbors.

  Relaxed and content with the way her life was going, Jonelle turned up the volume on the car radio and listened to NPR as she made her way over to Sally’s house.

  She left behind familiar streets and stores and merged onto I-70 west for a few miles and then exited onto Route 97 south. After a quick glance at the navigation system, Jonelle eased up on the gas and slowed down. Less traffic in this area meant no impatient honking urging her to hurry up. She passed a middle school, then a garden nursery and took the second left. There were no sidewalks in this part of the county. Each driveway sloped away from the houses and merged directly onto the road. The homes, though smaller than most of those in her neighborhood, also had the settled, comfortable look of housing people who, once they moved in, stayed put.

  Jonelle slid her vehicle in front of Sally’s two-story farmhouse and parked as close as possible without putting the wheels on the grass. The wood siding looked like it could use a fresh coat of pale yellow paint. The shutters on either side of each window were in need of a touchup of dark green. However, the lush emerald lawn showed no signs of weeds and had recently been mowed. The lilac bushes, yellow and white roses and purple and pink irises surrounded the house and welcomed visitors to call on the house’s occupant. The two steps leading up to the wraparound porch seemed sturdy. A quick glance around caught a face staring at her from across the street. This was followed by the slight movement of curtains in the second floor window as the person or persons ducked out of sight.