by J A Whiting
“I should probably read it first,” Shelly kidded.
Jay nodded. “You won’t get rich on the hourly payment, but at least I don’t have to feel guilty about taking up some of your time. This way, everything is documented.”
After reading over the one-page contract, Shelly signed at the bottom. “I’m not sure how I’m going to juggle three part-time jobs.”
“You’ll manage.” Jay shook the young woman’s hand. “Welcome to the Paxton Park Police Department. Now let’s go interview subject number one.”
Shelly settled on a stool behind the one-way glass and watched as Charlie Pinkley was brought in for questioning.
“I’m going to get right to it, Mr. Pinkley,” Jay said. “We’ve received new cell phone record reports that have been updated with information regarding your phone.” She let the words hang in the air.
“Meaning what?” Charlie asked with forced bravado.
“On the evening of your wife’s death, cell towers tell us your phone location was in Paxton Park.”
Charlie’s shoulders relaxed. “I told you I couldn’t find my phone. I lost it sometime that afternoon so, of course, it would be here in town.”
“It was picked up by a tower on the other side of town,” Jay said. “Near Linville.”
“It must be an error.” The man’s facial muscles tightened. “It couldn’t have been near Linville.” Charlie’s eyes took on a look of alarm. “I wasn’t in Linville, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I was at the mall, an hour away from here. I showed you that receipt.”
“You could have asked someone to pick up the boots at the mall for you. That someone would have given you the receipt.”
“What? Why don’t you go to the mall. Go to that store. They’ll tell you I was there.”
Jay let out a long breath. “Two of our officers paid that store a visit. They don’t remember the person who bought those boots.”
Charlie’s hand came down hard on the table. “You’re trying to railroad me. You’re making this up. I was in that store. They must have security tapes or something. Ask for those. Look at the tape.”
“The store’s security video camera is broken.”
His cheeks reddened, Charlie began to sputter, but then his face went stony and he sat without saying a word.
“Do you own a gun, Mr. Pinkley?” Jay asked.
“What? No. I don’t like guns.”
“Do you have a gun in your possession?” Jay asked.
“Absolutely not. Ask my kids, if you don’t believe me.”
“On the night Emma met a group of friends for dinner, she returned home extremely ill,” Jay said. “Did she take anything before leaving the house?”
“Like what?”
Shelly wanted to yell through the two-way glass. Did you poison Emma?
“Medication of any kind?”
“Not that I know of.” The man shrugged.
“Did she have something to drink?” Jay asked.
“You mean booze?”
“I mean anything at all.”
“I don’t know.” Charlie’s tone revealed his exasperation. “Maybe she had a cup of coffee.”
“Was Emma allergic to anything?”
“No. No allergies.” Charlie crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. “Why are you asking me this stuff?”
“I am trying to determine if something besides a virus might have caused Emma’s distress.”
Charlie gave a tight chuckle. “What do you mean, like poison?”
Jay stared at the man.
“You’re serious? Come on. Really? Look I have to be somewhere.” Charlie stood up. “I’m free to go, right?”
“Yes, you are,” Jay told him.
For now, Shelly thought as she watched Charlie Pinkley storm out of the conference room.
Forty-five minutes later, Shelly was behind the two-way glass again, this time watching Jay interview Dawn Barry.
The woman’s hair looked dry and over-bleached. Her eyes were lined with black liner and she had on false eyelashes. Dark circles showed under her eyes. Dawn looked thinner and her face seemed drawn.
Shelly wondered if Dawn drank too much or took some drugs. Her appearance didn’t seem to match her chronological age.
“Thanks for coming in, Ms. Barry,” Jay said with a welcoming smile. “I just have a few questions for you.” Jay gave her spiel about how it was difficult to ask and answer personal questions and she apologized in advance about having to ask some of those types of questions.
Dawn gave Jay a withering look. “Planning to ask about my love life?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Jay said. “We understand you were involved with Charlie Pinkley.”
Dawn’s face turned red. “Has that loser been telling tales?”
“We’d like to hear things from you, Ms. Barry. Did you date Charlie?”
“Yeah, I did. Everyone makes mistakes, don’t they?” Dawn sneered.
“How long did you date?”
“I don’t know. Maybe six months. Things were on and off with Charlie.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, let’s see.” Dawn picked at her fingernail. “I got tired of him about six months ago.”
“And that’s when your relationship ended?” Jay asked.
“There wasn’t a relationship. We had some fun together.” Dawn raised one shoulder.
“You were friends with Emma Pinkley?”
Dabbing at her eyes, Dawn said, “Yeah. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
Shelly didn’t quite believe Dawn’s sudden display of grief.
“How would you describe your relationship with Emma?”
“Good friends,” Dawn said.
“You were good friends with Emma, but you were seeing her husband?”
Dawn frowned. “Lines got crossed that shouldn’t have been crossed. I’m sorry about going out with Charlie.”
“What made you stop seeing him?”
“Like I said, I got tired of him.”
An angry expression crossed Shelly’s face. You got tired of him? You didn’t stop seeing him because you felt guilty about dating your friend’s husband?
“Did you start seeing Charlie again over the past month?” Jay asked.
Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, he didn’t. I’m asking you.”
“And I’m telling you, no I didn’t.”
“Did Charlie own a gun?” Jay questioned.
“I don’t know.” Dawn leaned back in her chair. “He talked about getting a gun. He thought it would be good protection. I don’t know if he got one or not.”
“Do you own a gun?”
“No. Too dangerous.”
“On the night Emma went out for dinner with you and some other women, she was very sick when she arrived home,” Jay said. “Did she seem like she was coming down with something during the meal?”
“Emma seemed a little tired. She didn’t complain about anything. I heard she got pretty sick.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“No, I didn’t want to bother her.”
“Did you come down with something similar?”
“I got a headache the next day and I felt a little sick to my stomach.”
“Did Emma drink a lot that night?” Jay asked.
“I wouldn’t say so.”
“Did Emma have allergies to anything?”
“I don’t know about that. She never told me anything about allergies.”
“Can you tell me what you were doing on the day and evening that Emma was killed?” Jay asked. “Can you run through your day for me?”
“Why?” Dawn looked defensive.
“We ask this of everyone.” Jay nodded to encourage the woman.
“Um, okay, I guess. Let’s see. I worked at the leather shop in town until about 3pm. I stopped at the store for a few groceries and then I went home and did laundry and took a nap.”
“Wha
t store did you shop at?”
Dawn told her. “I wasn’t in the store long. I just got some bread and milk and some other stuff.”
“Did you go anywhere else that afternoon?”
Like to the hospital to see Charlie? Shelly thought.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Did you happen to run into Charlie that day?”
“Charlie? I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing him anywhere.”
“Did you go by the hospital that day?” Jay asked keeping her voice even.
“The hospital? No, why would I?”
“To visit someone? For an appointment, maybe?”
“No.”
Sitting on the stool behind the two-way glass, Shelly’s eyebrows went up in disbelief at Dawn’s memory problems.
“And what about in the evening?” Jay questioned.
Dawn tapped her index finger against her chin. “In the evening? I don’t know if I went out. Oh, yes, I did. I decided to drive over to that nice store Something Special. Do you know it? It has really nice clothes, but they’re very expensive.”
Something Special was about four miles from the center of Paxton Park.
“Did you buy something there?”
“No.” Dawn shook her head sadly. “There was a great dress in the window that I liked. I drove by the store earlier in the week and noticed it. I parked in the lot, but before I got out of the car, I started to feel guilty about spending a lot of money. I sat there for a few minutes and then I changed my mind. I went home.”
“So you didn’t go in?”
“No. I would have liked that dress, but I decided to do something sensible instead and not blow my money on something I really didn’t need.”
“Where were you when you found out Emma had been killed?”
“I was at home watching television. A news alert came across the bottom of the screen about a woman who had been shot here in town. I didn’t know it was Emma until I went to work the next day and someone told me.” Dawn put her hand over her heart. “I almost had a heart attack.”
Shelly stared through the glass at the woman. Something about Dawn sent pricks of unease darting across her skin.
23
Light was streaming into the bedroom when Shelly woke with a start. Her sleep shirt stuck to her back, wet with perspiration, and her heart raced. On the bed curled next to her owner, Justice jumped to her feet when the young woman bolted up into sitting position.
“It’s okay, Justice. I had that dream. Again.” Shelly had the same dream three times during the night, and each time it caused her to wake in fear.
The dream was the same. Lauren was in the restaurant with Shelly and the other women gathered around the table. The cash fell from ceiling, like it always did, and then the bills fluttered around, shot back up, and disappeared.
Lauren took her sister’s glass away from her, drank the wine, and overturned the glass onto the table. The same as always.
But the last dream of the night had an added twist.
Lauren glanced across the table at someone and when Shelly followed her eyes, she could see that her sister was looking at Emma. Emma was listening to Dawn Barry tell her something Shelly couldn’t hear. Both women had glasses of red wine.
Making eye contact with Shelly, Lauren slowly shook her head and then looked back to Dawn and Emma.
Shelly watched as Dawn held Emma’s glass in her hand and moved the glass so that the wine swirled around. The two women were looking across the table to a dark-haired woman who was telling them a funny story. Emma’s attention was pinned on the brunette.
Someone hurried over to the table. It was Emma’s friend, Peggy Lane, who had decided to join the group even though she knew it was late and they’d be finishing up their meals. Everyone greeted Peggy and when Dawn looked away, Peggy glared at the back of the woman’s head before pulling a chair over and squishing in between Emma and Dawn.
The look Peggy gave Dawn had chilled Shelly and emotions raced through her body with such force that her eyes popped open and she shot up to sitting position.
“What was that all about?” Shelly patted the cat trying to calm herself.
After eating breakfast and showering, Shelly decided to walk to the bank in the center of town to get some cash before heading to the diner to bake the day’s breads and sweets.
Heading onto Main Street, a woman pushing a stroller waved to Shelly and crossed the street to greet her.
“Morning,” Peggy Lane said. With a smile, she nodded to her little son in the stroller. “We were up very early this morning. We’re on our way to my parents’ house for a visit.”
The women chatted about their day, the baby, Halloween, and the upcoming town festival.
“How are you holding up?” Shelly inquired about how Peggy was handling the death of her close friend.
“It helps to have the baby. He keeps me busy and keeps my mind from dwelling on the nightmare of Emma’s murder.”
Shelly asked, “Do you know much about Dawn Barry?”
Peggy’s face changed. “I know enough about her.”
“She was friendly with Emma?”
“Emma really didn’t like her,” Peggy said.
“Was that because of Charlie?” Shelly asked pointedly.
With a look of surprise, Peggy glanced at the young woman walking by her side and let out a sigh. “That had a lot to do with it, yes.” Gripping the stroller’s push-bar, she added, “Imagine someone pretending to be your friend when that someone is having an affair with your husband?”
“I don’t even know what to say about that,” Shelly shook her head. “It’s so terrible. Do you think the affair was on-going?”
“Emma thought Charlie and Dawn were seeing each other again,” Peggy said. “I don’t think the marriage was going to last too much longer.”
“Emma mentioned divorce to you?”
“She did. She talked about preparing to leave Charlie. I think she came to the conclusion that he would never change and there was nothing more she could do to try and make it work. She was tired of the cheating and the gambling and having a messy life. Emma had decided that she and the kids would be better off if the marriage was dissolved.”
“Had she told Charlie yet?”
“Not yet,” Peggy said. “She wanted to talk to an attorney first.”
Her early morning dream flashed through Shelly’s mind. “When I met you in the photography shop, I asked about Emma getting so sick after the dinner out with friends. You said something like maybe Emma’s drink didn’t agree with her. What did you mean? Did she drink a lot that night?”
“Emma never drank a lot. She was always careful and never over did it,” Peggy said.
“Do you think there was something wrong with the drink?”
Peggy didn’t answer right away, but then she said, “I don’t like Dawn. I don’t trust her. I think she’s rotten to the core and has no values. She lacks concern for anyone except herself. It’s always all about Dawn and what she wants, what she needs. She can’t see beyond the end of her own nose.”
“What about Emma’s drink though?” Shelly persisted.
“When I was walking over to the table to join them that night, I thought I saw Dawn pick up Emma’s drink.”
An icy cold sensation gripped Shelly’s stomach.
“Dawn made an odd motion with her hand. I don’t know. I suppose I have an overactive imagination,” Peggy said. “It seemed like Dawn slipped something into Emma’s wine.”
“You think Dawn tampered with Emma’s drink?” Shelly had to carefully control her voice volume to keep herself from shouting.
“Oh, probably not. It’s a ridiculous idea.” Peggy moved her hand around in the air. “I pulled up a chair and plopped myself at the table right in between Emma and Dawn.”
Just like in my dream this morning.
“Then Emma got sick,” Shelly said. “Maybe there was something in her glass. Should you mention this to the poli
ce?”
“Oh, gosh, no. I don’t want to embarrass myself. It was my dislike of Dawn that fueled my paranoia. The police would just think I was some hormonal new mom whose imagination had run away with her, that I was jumping to foolish conclusions.”
The women walked along the sidewalk for a few more minutes.
“Is that what you really think?” Shelly asked. “That you jumped to conclusions about something in Emma’s wine?”
Peggy stopped to adjust the blanket around her baby and then she looked at Shelly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. It doesn’t matter what happened that night. Emma is dead. My friend is gone.” Brushing at her eyes, she said, “I turn off here. My mom lives down this street. I’ll see you later.”
Shelly continued along the sidewalk to the bank thinking that Peggy might not be right about one thing.
What happened that night probably does matter.
When Shelly arrived at the diner, she went right to work baking pies and muffins and several pumpkin breads. The diner was busier than usual and Melody and the waitstaff were straight out while Henry manned the grill cooking like a madman.
“Why is it so busy today?” Shelly asked, jumping in to help the older man prepare the meals.
“There’s another dang conference booked at the resort this week.” Henry added some burgers to the grill. “We need to expand this kitchen and hire another cook on a part-time basis to help out when the resort is fully-booked.”
When the lunch crowd finally slowed, Henry swigged a bottle of ice cold water and mopped his brow with a towel. “We did it … and without a single customer complaint.”
With a smile, Shelly teased the man. “It must all be due to my helping you out.”
“I’m going to hire you as second cook.” Henry kidded as he cleaned down the grill. “Forget about baking.” He gave Shelly a wink. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime. I’ll send you my bill.” Shelly returned to her baking and spent the next two hours making three different kinds of pies. When she’d finished cleaning up, Henry turned to her with a slightly panicked look.
“Melody went home. There are two platters of food in the walk-in cooler for the Pinkleys. A friend of theirs ordered from us for delivery to the house to arrive late this afternoon. I forgot about the delivery. I hate to ask, but could you take my van and bring the food over to the Pinkley house?”
