Carol Clark - Laced

“No.”

“Well, anyway, he’s expecting us,” Jack then quickly gave more details to the Thompsons about why they were there. “We know you signed up for the Fun Run right before the race began. Did you happen to see the very last couple who signed up? They were probably in their forties. Apparently the woman tripped right near the registration table-and the man had a strange laugh.”

Linda lifted her head from Brad’s shoulder. “I remember them!”

“You do?” Regan asked.

“Yes! His laugh was strange. And there was something about the woman that reminded me of someone I knew, but I couldn’t figure out who.”

“Someone you knew?” Regan asked.

“Yes. Someone from my past, but I can’t place her. I almost went over to talk to her, but she didn’t look very approachable. I think she was annoyed that her husband was laughing so hard. Then the race was about to start, and they hurried off. I’ve met so many people showing apartments, I figured she reminded me of one of the clients I showed a million apartments to who never bought anything. Those people I try to forget.”

“What about this woman triggered the memory of someone else?” Regan asked.

“It was after she fell. When she stood up, it was the way she stretched her arms and ran in place for a second.”

“A lot of runners do that, honey,” Brad said.

“But this was different. And there was something else she did. I just can’t think of what it was.”

“Did she look like someone you knew?” Regan asked.

Linda shook her head. “She had on a cap and big sunglasses and a bulky windbreaker. I didn’t get a good look at her face. It was more of a profile. Oh! That was the other thing. The way her jaw was moving. It looked like she was chewing on a lozenge or something.”

This is getting us nowhere, Regan thought. “Was there anything else about her that you remember?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Did either of you notice anything unusual that happened at the race?”

They both shook their heads. “You know how it is in the early stages of love,” Brad said, “you only have eyes for each other. You don’t notice anything else because you’re the only two people in the whole wide world.”

“Of course,” Jack said, putting down his glass of water on a coaster. “We really appreciate your time. If you think of anything else or figure out who this woman reminded you of, please contact us.” He reached in his wallet for his card.

Linda grimaced. “I wish I could remember who it was.”

Brad patted her leg. “You will, honey.”

They all stood. Regan walked over to take a closer look at the wedding pictures. “You were a beautiful bride,” she said to Linda honestly.

Linda smiled. “Thank you.”

“She looked gorgeous!” Brad boasted.

“It helped to have a good makeup artist,” Linda joked. “The one I had at my first wedding eight years ago was absolutely terrific, but she left town-” Linda put her hand to her mouth, a shocked expression on her face.

“What is it, baby?” Brad asked.

“That’s who that woman reminded me of! Anna! She did the makeup at my first wedding.”

Brad covered his ears. “I can’t stand to hear about your marriage to that awful man,” he said playfully.

“If we could just talk about the makeup artist for a minute,” Jack said, urgency in his tone. “You say you lost touch with her?”

“Yes. After my wedding, she did my makeup a few more times and then one day when I called, her cell phone had been disconnected. No one knew where she was.”

“Why did the woman at the race remind you of her?” Regan asked.

“When Anna did the makeup for me and my bridesmaids the day of the wedding, she had to keep bending over because we didn’t have a chair that was the right height. Her back started to bother her. She started joking around and did a few stretches and some running in place. That woman at the race was moving and stretching just the way Anna did! She massaged her neck with both hands, exactly as Anna did. And her jaw was moving constantly, just like Anna’s! Anna popped breath mints every two seconds. I think she gave some of her clients a complex. You know how when people offer you a breath mint, you think it’s because you need it.”

“Do you remember her last name?” Regan asked quickly.

“Ohhhh, what was it?” Linda shook her head. “I don’t remember. I’ll have to call my hairdresser. He recommended her to me. It was eight years ago.”

“Can you call your hairdresser now?” Regan asked.

“Sure.”

“Here, use my cell phone,” Jack said, pulling it out of his pocket. “I’ll dial the number for you.”

“I know that number by heart,” Linda said. “It’s a good thing I didn’t switch hairdressers, or he’d never take my call. And not many women in New York keep the same hairdresser forever. The number is 212…”

Jack dialed and handed her the phone.

When the receptionist at the salon answered, she told Linda that Rocco was with a very important client and would have to call back.

“Tell Rocco this is urgent!” Linda demanded, authority in her voice. “Tell him I’m calling from my home in Ireland.”

“Just a moment.”

Regan, Jack, Breda, Brad, and Linda were all standing in the living room, anxiously waiting for Rocco to put down his scissors and come to the phone. Breda had all her fingers crossed.

“Hello, Rocco,” Linda said.

They listened as she asked him about Anna.

“I know she disappeared off the face of the earth without saying goodbye… I don’t know if she ever got married… What was her last name?…Hager…that’s right. It was Hager. Thanks, Rocco, I’ll see you the minute I get back-cut and color. Bye.” Linda handed the phone back to Jack. “Anna Hager was a makeup artist in New York City. Rocco recommended her to all his clients for years, then eight years ago she was gone.”

“Could something have happened to her?” Regan asked.

Linda shook her head. “When we couldn’t find Anna, Rocco went to her apartment to see if she was okay. She’d given her landlord three days’ notice, paid the rent, and moved out. It really hurt Rocco’s feelings that she didn’t tell him. He sent her a lot of clients.”

“Thank you, Linda,” Regan said. “We’ll look into it. It could be that Anna just wanted to make a change in her life.”

“New York can be a rat race,” Linda said. “And she seemed like such a nice girl. I cannot believe she might be a jewel thief.”

“A jewel thief who knows a lot about how to disguise herself,” Jack said. “And Anna was a makeup artist. But, listen, we can’t convict her yet. We’ll follow up on this and let you know what we find.”

Linda’s face went pale. “I just remembered something Anna told me.”

“What?” Regan asked.

“She told me she’d done makeup for a magician who taught her a few tricks…like how to steal someone’s watch right off their wrist. We laughed about it. It seemed like a joke at the time.”

“If Anna is our Jane Doe, then it’s not a joke anymore,” Jack said. “We’d better get going.”

Anna and Bobby were almost home. Bobby had complained about his tooth repeatedly, questioned the wisdom of stealing the Claddagh rings, and then to Anna’s delight had lowered his seat and fallen asleep. They were both exhausted. She longed for some music but didn’t turn on the radio for fear she’d waken him. We’ll go home and take it easy, she thought, then wondered what they should have for dinner. Nothing too chewy.

As they entered the village of Westweg, which was only a fifteen-minute drive from their home, Anna decided to make a quick stop. She’d been in the general store once and remembered they had delicious soup and sandwiches. I’ll run in and see what kind of soup they have today, she thought. That’s all Bobby will want tonight, I’m sure.