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Authors: Peggy Holloway
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the room for him when he was born. Later Mark and I went up to say good bye to Brad. He seemed perfectly okay with us leaving.
We flew Southwest airlines and arrived at 7:20 that evening. I had talked to Julia on the phone before we left and she told us to stay at her condo.
As soon as we walked in we knew someone had been in there. There was a smell of cigarette smoke and a saucer filled with cigarette butts.
I pulled Mark out of the door, “Don’t touch anything,” I said, “I’m going to call John.”
I dialed their number from my cell phone and John answered the first ring. “Whoever this is, call back later. We’re on our way to the hospital to have our baby.”
“This is Judith, John. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Why did you hang up, Judith?”
“Rosa’s in labor. There’s no help there. It’s probably unnecessary anyway. We don’t need fingerprints. We already know who was here.”
We looked through the condo and saw other evidence of someone being there. The bedspreads were rumpled like someone had taken a nap without turning the covers down. There was food in the refrigerator, part of a carton of milk and some eggs. I had thrown out everything in the refrigerator when I had gotten to Julia’s a week ago.
Mark opened the sliding glass doors and we stepped out onto the deck. Gazing out at the mini yard, each of us dreaded to go down the plank walkway to Julia’s studio.
We looked at each other and made a silent decision . Stepping onto the walkway, we started toward the shed. Before we get halfway there, we noticed a horrible smell. When Mark opened the door to the studio, the first thing I saw was a pool of blood on the wood floor.
CHAPTER 19
It was Mackey Broleen. He had been shot through the head. I dialed 911 from my cell and we backed out. I threw up on a hedge outside Julia’s studio, and made a mental note to tell the police when they got there.
We waited for the police in the back yard, not wanting to disturb the crime scene. It seemed like only minutes before the parking lot in front of the condo was filled with police cars, an ambulance, the medical examiner, a CSI unit, and of course the press.
I sat on the grass and watched the police trying to keep the press back. Yellow crime scene tape was strung all around the building and the yard. A couple of plain clothes detectives ducked under the tape and I recognized them. The man was the officer who had arrested me for prostitution when I was sixteen. The woman was his partner, who had aided him in questioning me at the police station later that night.
They walked around the back and went into Julia’s studio. Bill and Sandy were their names. They were obviously now in homicide instead of vice. When they came out, the medical examiner went in. Bill went over to talk to Mark. Sandy came and sat down on the grass next to me.
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” She asked.
“When I was sixteen, I was arrested for prostitution at Dave Boudreau’s house. You and that officer over there questioned me.”
“Oh yeah, I remember you now. That Dave is now doing some wonderful work. He’s done a complete one eighty. Have you seen him lately?”
“Not since we were all arrested, but Jesse is the nanny for my young cousin. She just started today.”
“Right. O ne of Dave’s reforms. Vicky, you want to tell me what happened here tonight?”
“My name’s Judith. It’s a long story. Mark and I were going to stay here at Julia’s for a few days and then we found him. We just got here from Houston.”
“And Julia is who?”
“She’s my twin sister. Our last name is McCain. She’s in the hospital in Houston.”
“Oh, now I remember reading about this in the paper about ten years ago. You and you sister had been the victims of the famous kidnapping case, and you were able to bring the perpetrators to justice. Does this have anything to do with that? Do you know who that man in there is?”
“Yes
We flew Southwest airlines and arrived at 7:20 that evening. I had talked to Julia on the phone before we left and she told us to stay at her condo.
As soon as we walked in we knew someone had been in there. There was a smell of cigarette smoke and a saucer filled with cigarette butts.
I pulled Mark out of the door, “Don’t touch anything,” I said, “I’m going to call John.”
I dialed their number from my cell phone and John answered the first ring. “Whoever this is, call back later. We’re on our way to the hospital to have our baby.”
“This is Judith, John. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Why did you hang up, Judith?”
“Rosa’s in labor. There’s no help there. It’s probably unnecessary anyway. We don’t need fingerprints. We already know who was here.”
We looked through the condo and saw other evidence of someone being there. The bedspreads were rumpled like someone had taken a nap without turning the covers down. There was food in the refrigerator, part of a carton of milk and some eggs. I had thrown out everything in the refrigerator when I had gotten to Julia’s a week ago.
Mark opened the sliding glass doors and we stepped out onto the deck. Gazing out at the mini yard, each of us dreaded to go down the plank walkway to Julia’s studio.
We looked at each other and made a silent decision . Stepping onto the walkway, we started toward the shed. Before we get halfway there, we noticed a horrible smell. When Mark opened the door to the studio, the first thing I saw was a pool of blood on the wood floor.
CHAPTER 19
It was Mackey Broleen. He had been shot through the head. I dialed 911 from my cell and we backed out. I threw up on a hedge outside Julia’s studio, and made a mental note to tell the police when they got there.
We waited for the police in the back yard, not wanting to disturb the crime scene. It seemed like only minutes before the parking lot in front of the condo was filled with police cars, an ambulance, the medical examiner, a CSI unit, and of course the press.
I sat on the grass and watched the police trying to keep the press back. Yellow crime scene tape was strung all around the building and the yard. A couple of plain clothes detectives ducked under the tape and I recognized them. The man was the officer who had arrested me for prostitution when I was sixteen. The woman was his partner, who had aided him in questioning me at the police station later that night.
They walked around the back and went into Julia’s studio. Bill and Sandy were their names. They were obviously now in homicide instead of vice. When they came out, the medical examiner went in. Bill went over to talk to Mark. Sandy came and sat down on the grass next to me.
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” She asked.
“When I was sixteen, I was arrested for prostitution at Dave Boudreau’s house. You and that officer over there questioned me.”
“Oh yeah, I remember you now. That Dave is now doing some wonderful work. He’s done a complete one eighty. Have you seen him lately?”
“Not since we were all arrested, but Jesse is the nanny for my young cousin. She just started today.”
“Right. O ne of Dave’s reforms. Vicky, you want to tell me what happened here tonight?”
“My name’s Judith. It’s a long story. Mark and I were going to stay here at Julia’s for a few days and then we found him. We just got here from Houston.”
“And Julia is who?”
“She’s my twin sister. Our last name is McCain. She’s in the hospital in Houston.”
“Oh, now I remember reading about this in the paper about ten years ago. You and you sister had been the victims of the famous kidnapping case, and you were able to bring the perpetrators to justice. Does this have anything to do with that? Do you know who that man in there is?”
“Yes
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