More Twisted

selling designer clothes, which she’d use her skills as a seamstress to alter and then would sell to fences in other states.
    An informant had told the Oregon State Police that Liz Polemus was the one behind the string of recent robberies in the Northwest and was living under a fake name in a bungalow here. The OSP detectives on the case had learned that her daughter was a detective with the Seattle police department and had helicoptered Beth Anne to Portland Airport. She’d driven here alone to get her mother to surrender peacefully.
    “She was on two states’ ten-most-wanted lists. And I heard she was making a name for herself in California too. Imagine that—your own mother.” Heath’s voice faded, thinking this might be indelicate.
    But Beth Anne didn’t care. She mused, “That was my childhood—armed robbery, burglary, money laundering . . . . My father owned a warehouse where they fenced the stuff. That was their front—they’d inherited it from his father. Who was in the business too, by the way.”
    “Your grandfather ?”
    She nodded. “That warehouse . . . I can still see it so clear. Smell it. Feel the cold. And I was only there once. When I was about eight, I guess. It was full of perped merch. My father left me in the office alone for a few minutes and I peeked out the door and saw him and one of his buddies beating the hell out of this guy. Nearly killed him.”
    “Doesn’t sound like they tried to keep anything very secret from you.”
    “Secret? Hell, they did everything they could to get me into the business. My father had these ‘special games,’ he called them. Oh, I was supposed to go over to friends’ houses and scope out if they had valuables and where they were. Or check out TVs and VCRs at school and let him know where they kept them and what kind of locks were on the doors.”
    Heath shook his head in astonishment. Then he asked, “But you never had any run-ins with the law?”
    She laughed. “Actually, yeah—I got busted once for shoplifting.”
    Heath nodded. “I copped a pack of cigarettes when I was fourteen. I can still feel my daddy’s belt on my butt for that one.”
    “No, no,” Beth Anne said. “I got busted returning some crap my mother stole.”
    “You what?”
    “She took me to the store as cover. You know, a mother and daughter wouldn’t be as suspicious as a woman by herself. I saw her pocket some watches and a necklace. When we got home I put the merch in a bag and took it back to the store. The guard saw me looking guilty, I guess, and he nailed me before I could replace anything. I took the rap. I mean, I wasn’t going to drop a dime on my parents, was I? . . . My mother was so mad . . . . They honestly couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps.”
    “You need some time with Dr. Phil or somebody.”
    “Been there. Still am.”
    She nodded as memories came back to her. “From, like, twelve or thirteen on, I tried to stay as far away from home as I could. I did every after-school activity I could. Volunteered at a hospital on weekends. My friends really helped me out. They were the best . . . I probably picked them because they were one-eighty from my parents’ criminal crowd. I’d hang with the National Merit scholars, the debate team, Latin club. Anybody who was decent and normal. I wasn’t a great student but I spent so much time at the library or studying at friends’ houses I got a full scholarship and put myself through college.”
    “Where’d you go?”
    “Ann Arbor. Criminal justice major. I took the CS exam and landed a spot on Detroit PD. Worked there for a while. Narcotics mostly. Then moved out here and joined the force in Seattle.”
    “And you’ve got your gold shield. You made detective fast.” Heath looked over the house. “She lived here by herself? Where’s your father?”
    “Dead,” Beth Anne said matter-of-factly. “She killed him.”
    “ What? ”
    “Wait’ll you read the extradition order from Michigan. Nobody knew it at the time, of course. The original coroner’s report was an accident. But a few months ago this guy in prison in Michigan confessed that he’d helped her. Mother found out my father was skimming money from their operation and sharing it with some girlfriend. She hired this guy to kill him and make it look like an accidental drowning.”
    “I’m sorry, Detective.”
    Beth Anne shrugged. “I always wondered if I could forgive them. I