The Haunted Widow
Copyright © 2026 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 4: The Silent Z
Three weeks after Joanne spent the night at Lacie’s house, Lacie was believing she’d made a mountain out of a molehill. Her motion activated cameras recorded nothing of interest. The garbage cans were waiting at the curb on collection day where she expected to see them. Billy didn’t mention his father.
Joanne called to check in, and was pleased to hear there was nothing to report. They made another “date” for her to come over. This time, Lacie offered French food, and asked for Chenin Blanc to go with her chicken in cream sauce.
“Lacie, I was thinking I might stay with you for added security. Instead, you’re convincing me with food. Tell me, have you ever considered a lesbian relationship?”
“We’ve known each other for years. There’s no subject you and I won’t talk about. I love you to pieces, but you’re not pointy enough to share my bed.”
“I could wear a strap-on. Give me a chance!”
“I swear, Joanne, if I see you wearing something like that, I’ll dump your chicken into the garbage grinder.”
“Oh. I’ll think of something else, then. Hey! Billy likes his ‘Aunt Jo,’ you should ask him.”
Lacie scoffed. “He’d approve of anyone who sneaks cookies to him, like I’ve caught you doing.”
“Oops. I’ll think of something. See you tomorrow night.”
“All right. I’ll expect you at seven o’clock.”
Billy was a little fussy when she picked him up at daycare, but his mood improved when his mother told him “Aunt Jo” was coming for dinner. She buckled him into the car seat, and they went on the short drive for home. Everything absolutely routine, until she turned into her driveway.
And slammed on the brakes. The carport was empty! David’s most prized possession, his Nissan 370Z—it was gone!
“I know I left the doors locked! I don’t see any bits of glass, just a piece of metal.” Deeply shaken, she backed out of the driveway and parked at the curb in front of her house, then reached for her phone and hit the speed dial.
“Lacie, are you all right?”
“Are you still at work?”
“I can hear in your— What’s wrong?”
“David’s sports car has been stolen! Can you ask your friends to come help? I guess I need to file a report or something.”
“Absolutely. I just got off shift, but I haven’t left the station. I’ll get one of the guys to visit you. It might be an hour or two since it’s not technically an emergency. But I’m going to get there in thirty minutes. Just hang on; I hear Billy starting to fuss.”
“My son does react to the tone of my voice. See you soon.”
When Joanne arrived, Lacie had calmed somewhat. Billy was in front of the TV and the groceries for tonight’s French menu were put away. Joanne saw her friend from the police station and brought him into the house.
“Lacie, this is Sergeant Scott MacLean. He’s been on the force for, is it twenty?”
“Twenty-one years, Joanne. Ma’am, I understand you’re a widow. I’m sorry for your loss. The stolen car was your husband’s?”
Lacie told him the details about the car, and provided him with last year’s registration papers so he had all the identification details for the Z. She also told him that as far as she knew, the only set of keys besides hers were supposedly at the bottom of the Strait of Georgia—in her late husband’s pocket. She also showed him the disconnected cable from her carport security camera, and the fragments of the rock she had hidden in front of the Z’s right rear tire.
“All right. I have everything I need for filing the report, and you’ll have a copy for your insurance claim. I’m sure your husband had that car fully insured because it’s a very popular and collectible model. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to go ‘off the record’ with you, because my old cop brain is noticing things I want you to know about.”
“Really? By all means, Sergeant.”
“That metal strip on the carport floor is a tool older cops are familiar with. It’s known as a ‘slim jim.’ I bagged it for evidence, but it won’t amount to anything useful. In the past, cops and tow truck drivers used these tools to slip inside car doors and flip those old lock buttons up and unlock the door, instead of breaking the glass or something.”
“You mean, the buttons you pulled up or pushed down with your fingers? I barely remember those.”
“Exactly. I think the slim jim won’t help with the case. Number one, that tool wouldn’t work on your husband’s car’s electric locks. Number two, that tool would be scratched and bent if it had actually been used. In your carport, that one is untouched and unused. Number three, my conclusion is that leaving that tool behind is a gesture intended to mislead.”
Joanne said, “Your opinion is that someone used a set of keys to steal the car? Lacie, where is your set for the Z?”
“They are in my purse, so I can run the engine and keep the battery charged up.”
The sergeant looked down at the floor. “Ma’am, I’m officially done here. Could I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”
“Sure. Follow me inside.”
Inside, nursing his coffee, Sergeant MacLean reiterated that he was still “off the record.”
“Joanne, Lacie, I can call you Lacie?”
“Of course.”
“You probably know the rule known as Occam’s Razor. Among several competing explanations that fit the evidence, the one that makes the fewest assumptions should be preferred. There are a number of potential explanations for what happened to this car.”
The women waited patiently while he sipped his coffee. “You told me about that brittle rock you hid in front of the right rear tire. I saw the fragments of that rock, showing that the car was likely driven away under its own power, not towed out. Your camera on the front of your house facing out would have shown a tow truck on your street, too. It doesn’t cover the driveway, though.”
“I thought my carport camera showed the driveway, but that’s the one that was disabled.”