Free Pushing Up Bluebonnets by Leann Sweeney Page B

impersonal.
      Just then Eva appeared in the doorway. ''Herr Richter? The policeman is here. He's asking for you.'' She had a thick German accent that hadn't come through when she'd spoken so few words earlier.
      ''Did he say what he wanted?'' Richter said impatiently, never taking his eyes off me as I walked into the middle of the bedroom. I was taking in every corner, hoping to see something—anything—that might give me a hint of JoLynn's personality.
      Eva said, ''He says nothing except that he wants to speak with you, mein Herr .''
      ''Go ahead. I'd prefer to work alone anyway, Mr. Richter,'' I said.
      ''I'm not sure—''
      ''My ground rules, remember?''
      Richter turned on his heel and left with Eva.
      I sighed and closed my eyes, the tension leaving my body. I hadn't realized how strongly his presence affected me. I kinda liked the guy who'd been charming and intelligent at lunch, but the intensity when he spoke about JoLynn seemed, well, scary. This little room search would be a welcome distraction. Maybe Kate could help me make sense of Richter when we talked this over later.
      Since nothing in plain sight struck me as informative, I hit the nightstand and found a Bible with a gold-tasseled bookmark in the drawer. I opened to the marked page. Ecclesiastes, the fourth chapter. Not the chapter about how everything has a time and a season, but rather the one about how wealth cannot bring happiness, how you need a friend to help you up when you fall. We'd done Ecclesiastes in my adolescent Bible study and if I remembered right, these passages were about oppression and friendlessness. Her saving this particular page could be telling me something about JoLynn, or it could simply be the spot she'd stuck the thin gold ribbon attached to the Bible.
      I moved on and found a half dozen pairs of shorts and T-shirts and some simple cotton underwear in one dresser. The drawers below the television armoire were filled with jeans, lightweight sweaters and pajamas. No trendy clothes like you'd expect from someone her age— not even in the nearly barren closet. Two black dresses, a few pairs of shoes, a pair of slacks and a shirt still in their dry-cleaner bags—that was about it. Her wardrobe pretty much resembled mine.
      But then I went into the adjoining bathroom. The ledge of the corner whirlpool tub looked like a candle and bath-salts store. JoLynn apparently liked some luxury in her life, after all. I picked up one candle and sniffed. Vanilla. A jar of bath salts was brown sugar and, again, vanilla. And there was a coconut-vanilla foot scrub. Loofahs, bath pillows and a basket of French-milled soaps sat on the tub's marble seat. Nice and inviting, I thought. This was someone who took relaxation seriously.
      The sink and vanity revealed a minimum of makeup— higher-end department store brands. Nothing you could buy at Walgreens. I knelt and opened a cabinet beneath the sink. Shampoos, a hair dryer and a curling iron. Again, everyday stuff. I was about to close up the cabinet and leave when I spotted a grocery-style plastic bag in one dark corner.
      I sat on the floor and opened the bag. Here was the drugstore makeup, the cheap moisturizer and threedollar shampoo. Interesting. And three boxes of washin hair color. Black, chestnut and ash-blond. What was this about? My first thought was that she could grab this little escape kit, change her looks and disappear.
      But before I could think of any other explanation, I heard voices in the bedroom and then Richter called my name.
      I emerged from the bathroom after returning the bag to where I'd found it.
      Cooper Boyd said, ''Hi, Abby. Good to see you again.'' His melancholy smile and raspy voice were more welcoming than anything offered by Elliott Richter once the topic had changed to JoLynn.
      ''Chief Boyd has something to tell you,'' Richter said. ''But can we talk in the great room? I find it rather uncomfortable in