Message in the blade, p.3
Message in the Blade, page 3
“Hey, Lacey,” I say with a little awkward wave. “Looks like you're in good hands.”
I had planned on getting my own hair cut, but quickly decide against it. We may be sisters, but getting our hair done together is a little too much for me just yet.
“I was overdue for a color, and I thought, why haven't I ever gone to Dot's?”
Because she hated my family up until a week or two ago. But I don't say that.
“She has such lovely hair,” Grandma chimes in, and Lacey beams.
“What brings you here?” Mom says from the wash sink where she is rinsing out color bottles. There are no other customers in the shop besides Lacey. I hesitate and dart my eyes to hers in the mirror.
“Spill it. I can tell something is on your mind. Off the record,” Lacey says with a wide smile.
“What's said in the beauty shop stays in the beauty shop,” Grandma says.
“I had a new client this morning,” I start. “His uncle was killed. It had been ruled as a suicide, but he was sure it wasn't.”
“How awful,” Mom says.
I tell them about going to the house and what I saw. Lacey listens with interest, especially to the part about touching the stain.
I leave out the part about Lucas getting upset with me and the small hug Dustin gave me.
“So they're going to reopen the case?” Lacey asks.
“Going to try. You cannot put this on TV. You can't tell anyone what I saw.”
“I won't.” She sounds insulted that I'd even mention it. “I promise. At least, not until there's something official to report.”
Grandma finishes the last foil on Lacey's highlight and puts the color dish and brush in the sink for Mom to wash.
“The only question that matters is what are you going to do about it?” Grandma asks me.
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean? I already did what I was hired to do.”
All three women look at me with various expressions of disbelief. “You're going to stay out of the case?” Grandma asks, obviously not believing me.
“What do you want me to do? I'm not a cop.”
“Never stopped you before,” she points out.
I don't want to talk about it, so I change the subject. “How's Aubry? Is she recovered from her ordeal?”
“She's getting by. She's taking Brent's death pretty hard. Blames herself since the killers were after her and he was in the way.”
“I heard his service was lovely,” Grandma says. “So many people. His cousin was in here the day after and she told me all about it.”
“It was a nice service. Just so sad,” Lacey says and bows her foil-covered head.
The mood in the shop is sober and Grandma changes the subject. “You all heard about Mrs. Mott's party tomorrow, right? You are all invited.”
I'd honestly forgotten about it, but I say that I remember.
“She wants everyone to meet her new boyfriend, Derek. I've met him. He's a retired detective, recently moved here to River Bend. You'd like him, Gabriella.”
“Why's that?”
“I don't know. He's nice. He has lots of interesting stories about his days on the force.” Grandma shrugs and checks Lacey's foils.
“I think I've had my fill of detectives for a while. Retired old guys, or not.”
“He's not that old. Younger than Pauline and me.”
“That's old,” I tease.
“You're impossible. Will you come? Pauline will be hurt if you don't.”
I don't want to go, but I can't let Mrs. Mott down. “I'll be there.”
“It's at his place out on that private lake community. What's it called again?”
“Willow Shores,” Mom offers. “I've wanted to go see that place. The lake is man-made and there are only a few houses on it. That abandoned mansion is on one end of the lake. Sounds so interesting.”
“Not sure how a retired detective has the money for such a place, but it's none of my business,” Grandma says.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “None of your business, so keep it that way.”
“What? You calling me nosey?”
“I'm calling you overly concerned.”
“That's right. Concerned.”
“Want to come with me?” Lacey asks. “We can drive together.”
I haven't heard from Lacey in the week since our adventure, and I'm not sure what this sudden urge to be close is about. She seems genuine, though. “Okay. But I'm driving.”
She smiles and then jumps. She reaches for her pocket and takes out her cell phone. It buzzes in her hand. “Sorry, it's work,” she says and takes the call.
After a moment of listening, she says, “I understand. Text me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can.” She hangs up the phone and looks at our three curious faces.
“Gabby, you want to come to a story with me?” she asks.
I'm surprised to be invited, but agree to go before I even think about it. “Why take me along?”
“There's another death on the south side of town. Our source say it's another suicide. There's been a rash of suicides in town the last few weeks. That's what they want me to do the story on.”
“Another suicide?” Mom asks. “How sad that so many people have been driven to that decision.”
“Unless it's not suicide,” I point out. “Just like Roger's uncle this morning.”
“There's been about eight that I know of,” Lacey says.
“And if they are not all self-inflicted, that means we have a murderer on the loose.”
“Worse than that,” I say soberly. “We have a serial killer.”
The room goes silent.
After a shocked moment, Grandma starts pulling the foils from Lacey's hair. “You two need to get there and start looking into this. Don't let that coroner rule this one wrong,” she says to me.
I don't know how I can stop Gomez from doing what she wants, but I promise to try.
Chapter 5
GABBY
As I follow Lacey's car to the scene, I brace myself for seeing Lucas twice on the same day. I toy with the idea of turning around, of letting Dustin take care of the new threat, but I keep driving. If there really is a serial killer in River Bend, one staging the murders to look like suicides, then it will take all of us to stop them.
When we arrive at the scene, I'm surprised at how close we are to Andy Tippins's house. Only a few blocks away. This neighborhood is even more run-down than his was. Definitely not the shiniest part of River Bend.
There are only two police cars on the scene when we arrive. One I recognize as the cruiser Lucas and Dustin were in earlier, at least it has the same number. I don't suppose I'll get lucky enough to do whatever I need to without seeing them. The other cruiser, I assume belongs to the responding officer. I hope I'll get extra lucky and it's officer Patterson. He won't turn me away on sight.
No luck. A pretty female officer with her hair in a neat auburn bun walks out the door of the ramshackle house with the crooked blue shutters. I recognize her as one of the new recruits this spring, but we've never met. I hope to win her over. I could use another ally like Patterson.
I park on the street behind Lacey who parks behind the news van already here and waiting for her. She introduces me to her cameraman, Nick. I've seen him with her many times, but have never wanted to know his name. He's always been the anonymous man trying to get a close-up of my face and tape my reaction as Lacey shames me on film.
Nick seems confused as to why Lacey and I are suddenly so chummy, but doesn't ask questions. He fills her in on what he's been told about the scene so far.
“A white female, twenty-four years old. Her name is Shelly Parker,” Nick says. “Looks like she took a bottle of pills. Honestly, I don't see why we are here.”
“We'll see,” Lacey says. “Have the detectives come out yet?”
“No. They have that officer guarding the door. She gave me a dirty look when I pulled up but hasn't chased me away yet.”
“This is a public road, she can't make us leave,” Lacey says opening her purse and taking out a tube of lipstick. She uses the side view mirror of the van to apply the lipstick. As she rubs her lips together, she looks at me, all business.
“You think you can go in there and get a statement. Or better yet, convince Lucas or Dustin to come talk to us?”
I open my un-lipsticked mouth in surprise. “They won't let me in.”
“You don't know that. Charm that boyfriend of yours.”
“We broke up, remember.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot. I was hoping you'd get us a way in. Maybe this is a bad idea,” she says dismissively. This is more like the Lacey I'm used to.
“I'm here now,” I say. “I'll go see what I can find out. Maybe that officer on guard is a fan.”
Nick makes a small laughing sound, then quickly shuts up when Lacey smacks his arm. “You never know.”
I feel eyes from the surrounding houses on me as I make my way up the walk. The neighborhood has seen better decades and looks deserted now that the police are here, but I sense all the curious lookers at windows down the block.
The officer at the door watches me with a guarded expression. I try for bravado and say, “Hi, thanks for guarding the scene,” and try to walk past her like I am expected inside.
She doesn't fall for the ruse and steps in front of me. “You can't go in there, Ms. McAllister.”
I check her name tag and say, “Look, Officer Hawthorne, I need to see the scene here. Dustin and Lucas are expecting me.” I try to make my way around her, but she sidesteps in front of me again.
“I doubt your brother or your ex want to see you right now. They're on a case.”
I wonder how she knows that Lucas and I are no longer together. Is our personal life news all over town?
“You don't know that. Please step aside, Officer Hawthorne.” I use my most authoritative voice.
She doesn't fall for this either, and not so subtly rests her hand on the gun at her hip. “Why don't you go back to your friend with the news van and leave us to do the actual work.” I'm surprised at the vicious tone of her words. For a woman I've never met, she sure doesn't like me.
“Kalissta, is that the coroner you're talking to?” Lucas suddenly says, appearing in the doorway of the small house. “Oh no,” he groans when he sees me. “Dustin. Your sister is here.”
Dismissed, I stand on the weedy front walk as Dustin comes to the door. This morning he was unusually friendly. Now, he's fuming.
“You can't be serious,” he says, looking past me to the news van. Lacey is standing with Nick, who has his camera facing us. “You brought the press.”
“Actually, she brought me. Dustin, look. Doesn't it seem strange that you have yet another suicide in town? I don't think this girl, Shelly, did this to herself.”
Kalissta snorts in derision. “Why don't you let the detectives decide that? They don't need your help.”
I wish Lucas would come back outside and stand up for me. But the doorway remains empty. Dustin runs a hand over his hair in agitation. “She's right. We've got this. You better get out of here before Gomez comes and arrests you like she's threatened to do.”
“Arrest me for helping?”
“For interfering with police work,” Kalissta Hawthorne interjects.
“I don't need you interfering in my work,” I snap at her.
“Your work is a joke,” she says, taking a step toward me.
“That's enough,” Lucas says decisively from the doorway. “Officer Hawthorne, stand down. Gabby, please leave. Your concern about Shelly Parker has been noted.”
Kalissta goes to stand beside Lucas, a little too close for my taste. She smiles in victory. I clench my gloved hands into fists at my side, wanting to smack that smile from her face.
“Really, Gabby,” Dustin says. “I promise we'll look into all the angles. We always do. This poor soul was a prostitute and into meth as well as pills. We've seen her in and out of jail many times. She had a hard life. It's unfortunate that she may have chosen pills as a way to escape this.”
“What if she didn't? What if this is like the Andy Tippins case?”
“The Tippins case is closed,” Officer Hawthorne chimes in. I shoot her a deadly glance.
“Only for now,” I say.
“Go home, Gabby,” she says. I take a step towards her, at the last edge of my patience with the woman. She steps forward, too. Lucas puts a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. The sight of his hand on her makes my irritation turn to rage.
Dustin sees the change and steps in front of me just in time to stop me from rushing her. “Stop this. Don't embarrass us both,” he whispers in my ear.
This halts me in my tracks. I relax and step away from the three uniforms. “You promise not to rush to a manner of death?”
“I'll do what I can,” Dustin says. “Now please, let us get back to work.”
I scan their faces. Lucas is looking at the ground like he can't even stand to see me. Hawthorne is beaming like she won. Dustin seems ashamed.
I turn from them and walk towards my car.
I'm conscious of Nick's camera and that it taped the entire shameful situation. Trusting that Lacey won't put the video on the news, I climb into my Charger. It roars to life. I see a curtain flutter in the nearest house. Someone's been watching me all the way to my car.
I put the Charger in drive and speed away. I'm driving too fast, but I don't care. Maybe Officer Hawthorne will come give me a ticket.
I'd like to see her try.
Chapter 6
LUCAS
Seeing Gabby twice in one day is almost too much. Watching her lose her temper with Officer Hawthorne stirs something in me. I don't like to see her upset. Especially when I think she's right.
Once inside the front room of the small, ramshackle house, alone with Dustin, I say as much. “You know she's right. There has been an unusual number of suicides lately. Not to mention accidental deaths, too now that I think about it.”
Dustin takes a deep breath, “I know. I just don't want her marching in here and telling us what to do. We have to find a better way for her to be involved. This isn't working.”
I'm surprised at his agreement, was braced for the opposite.
“What are you thinking?”
He sighs again. “I have no idea. Let's worry about Shelly Parker for now and hope the rest works its way out.”
We walk down the short hall to the bedroom where a concerned friend found the body of Shelly Parker. The young woman looks much older than her years. Her arms are rail thin, several bracelets on each wrist. Her face is marred with a few sores, and her hair is straggly and spread across the pillow. She looks like she's sleeping.
I feel sorry for the woman who had such a hard time. Last time we had contact with her, she'd vowed to get her life in order. I'd have to check, but it seems like at least six months since she'd been picked up for prostitution.
Judging by the paraphernalia near the bed, she hadn't given up the meth. An empty bottle of Hydrocodone is on the bed next to her. There's a half-full glass of water on the nightstand.
“Hmm,” I mumble, looking at the glass.
“What?” Dustin asks.
“The glass. It's sitting neatly in place, but the pill bottle is on the bed.”
“So? She put the glass down out of habit.”
“And dropped the bottle?” I'm not sure why the glass is bothering me, but something just doesn't seem right.
“It's not like the pills killed her instantly. It takes time for them to kick in.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right.” I let it go, but my eyes are drawn back to the glass as we complete our investigation.
“Plus, it's half-full,” I say a few moments later, unable to drop the subject.
Dustin turns and faces me directly. “What are you getting at? So she didn't finish the water. So what?”
“Do you ever take pills and not finish the glass?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“I don't. I always down the rest of the water.”
“So she didn't.”
“But that many pills would take a lot of water. If she took them.”
He walks over and takes a closer look at the glass. “I don't get it. What are you saying?”
“I'm not sure. But if someone forced the pills into her mouth and then forced her to drink the water to swallow them. It wouldn't take the whole glass. Maybe he just gave her enough to get the pills down, then sat the glass here on the nightstand.”
Dustin thinks a moment. “I see your point. You think Gabby's onto something with this murderer in town scenario.”
“I hate to admit it, but this is two dead bodies that may not actually be suicides. Who knows how many more there could be.”
“But how do we know Shelly Parker didn't just down the pills herself?” He points to the needles strewn next to the water glass. “This will make you do crazy things.”
I hear Hawthorne greeting someone outside the door. Gomez is here.
“There's only one way to know.” I quickly slide one of Shelly's many bracelets off her unnaturally thin wrist.
“You can't take that,” Dustin whispers.
“We need to take something to Gabby.” I slide the bracelet into my pocket just as Gomez comes down the hall.
“Good afternoon, Detectives,” she says, her inflection on detectives sounding sarcastic.
I brace myself to deal with the caustic woman and pat my pocket.
“Coroner Gomez,” Dustin and I say at the same time.
“Looks like we have another one,” she says. “I understand this one is a prostitute and a meth head?”
“This one,” I say pointedly, “Is a young woman who's had a rough time.”
Gomez flips her wrist, blowing me off. “Same thing.”
I grit my teeth to keep a sharp retort off my tongue and leave the small bedroom that is cramped with the three of us in there.
The breeze outside feels sweet after the stuffy rooms of Shelly's house.
“Lucas, done so soon?” Hawthorne asks. There's a barely discernable purr to her voice. One I've been trying to ignore the last few days.
