Ross placed his arm around Devon’s shoulder and pulled her to his side while guiding her toward his car. He sighed deeply. “Yeah, he has that effect on me too,” he announced then immediately cast a look at her.
As if on cue, she glared at him. Ross smiled and chuckled.
“Come along, you slutty, dirty girl,” he announced. “We have important sleuthing to do.”
Ross released her to open the passenger side door for her. The rusted car door creaked loudly. She was about to get into the car when Ross caught her arm, stopping her. She eyed his serious look.
“You intended to get down and dirty on the church altar?” he suddenly asked. “What goes on in that place when I’m not around?”
She rolled her eyes and got into the car. He pointed a warning finger at her.
“I swear, if I ever catch you doing it with him in the torture chamber, there’s going to be hell to pay,” he boldly announced then shut the car door.
Chapter Forty-three
Dorothy sat in a plush chair before Chelsea’s wheelchair and repeatedly brushed her daughter’s golden hair. Chelsea stared off at nothing and remained emotionless, showing no sign of brain activity. Dorothy heard a strange rustling sound outside the house. She stopped and looked at the big, bay window to the darkness beyond it. She then heard a gentle breeze blowing against the shrubs outside and immediately relaxed. She resumed brushing her daughter’s hair.
“I think we’ll go with flowered barrettes tomorrow,” Dorothy informed her. “One on each side. They’ll look beautiful in your hair.”
Only a moment passed before she heard a thud from upstairs. Dorothy looked at the ceiling with a fixed stare. She set the brush down on the chair and nervously stood. Dorothy removed an old golf club from alongside her chair and approached the stairway. She looked up the stairs a moment and listened, but she didn’t hear anything. She slowly walked up the steps while clutching the golf club. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She immediately paused while making a face then continued to the second floor.
As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw her bedroom door gently sway. She was certain the window had been closed, so nothing should have moved the door. Dorothy hesitated a moment then cautiously approached her bedroom and looked into the dark room with her golf club firmly in her hand. She felt inside the inner wall for the light switch and turned on the light. The room suddenly brightened, almost startling her. Dorothy’s eyes immediately fell upon her queen-sized bed where Tamara’s dead body lay on top of the frilly comforter.
Tamara was covered in her own blood from a large, gaping wound to her lower abdomen. She appeared to be partially gutted, although the blood was dried and there was none on the bed. Dorothy held back her scream while shaking her head. On the wall above the bed was the word killer written in blood. Dorothy screamed at the sight, ran from the room, and thundered down the stairs. She ran into the kitchen, grabbed the phone from the wall near the counter, and pushed a button. She turned toward the kitchen doorway and darted looks around her while clenching the phone cord.
A shadow moved within the living room. Dorothy gasped while dropping the phone, clutched her golf club, and cautiously entered the living room. She didn’t see anyone except Chelsea, who sat in her chair with her usual fixed stare. Dorothy looked around the room while breathing heavily. She darted for the living room phone on the end table alongside her chair and snatched it from its base, realizing too late that she hadn’t hung up the kitchen phone.
To her surprise, there was a dial tone. She looked back at the kitchen with concern. Someone must have hung up the kitchen phone! She dropped the phone and ran for the front door. Dorothy pulled on the doorknob, but the door was still locked and bolted. She tossed her golf club aside and fumbled with the lock and deadbolt. A floorboard creaked behind her.
Dorothy whirled around to the somehow terrifying sound. The phantom stood before her, his eyes piercing into hers. Her eyes widened as she screamed hysterically. The large knife thrust forward, stabbing her in the throat to silence her scream. The bloody knife was fiercely pulled back allowing blood to streak across the wall. She clutched her bleeding throat while gasping. Chelsea remained immobile in her chair with her usual fixed stare, unaware of what was happening. Dorothy attempted to scream while spitting up blood. The phantom slammed her against the door to keep her from falling as he repeatedly and violently thrust the dagger into her abdomen.
The phantom continued to stab her in her abdomen over and over until she finally slipped from his hand and slid down the door, collapsing in a bloody heap on the floor. There was blood strewn across the entire foyer from the brutal assault. The room fell silent except for the clock ticking on the wall. Chelsie sat in her chair staring at nothing, unaware of the vicious attack that had just ended her mother’s life. The phantom, covered in Dorothy’s blood, approached her in her chair and stared at her with the bloodied dagger still clutched in his gloved hand. With his left gloved hand, he gently touched her cheek, leaving a small bloody streak on her face. Her eyes lifted possibly for the first time in seven years.
§
The following morning, police blazers blocked the driveway to Dorothy’s house and yellow police tape roped off the front yard. Several townspeople gathered by the tape and strained to see what had happened. Low murmurs came from the crowd. Within the house, a photographer took photos of Dorothy lying on the floor in a bloody heap. There were dozens of stab wounds to her body surrounded by her own blood. Sheriff Carter stood in the corner of the living room near the plush chair and stared down with an angered look on his stern face. Deputy Havens walked down the stairs while scratching his head. He wore a slightly sickened look as he approached the sheriff, who still hadn’t moved.
“The coroner is convinced Tamara died the same day she went missing,” Deputy Havens informed him then shook his head. “The girl’s been dead a week. Someone kept her body stashed somewhere all this time just to put it in Dorothy’s bedroom. This is insane.”
The sheriff didn’t take his eyes away from the corner and maintained his stare at Chelsea’s empty wheelchair lying on its side. His anger had reached its boiling point while he kept his back to Deputy Havens.
“I don’t care how you do it, Havens,” Sheriff Carter launched in a low, cold tone. “Even if you have to search every house in this damned town, I want Chelsea found.”
“Yes, sir.”
§
The following afternoon, Ross and Devon sat inside the funeral home parlor while reading the morning paper. Ross shook his head and muttered something. The parlor doors opened startling both.
Tony entered looking mildly disturbed and eyed his friends. “Sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long,” he announced although he was clearly distracted.
“They still haven’t found Chelsea,” Ross informed him with noted hostility. “How could anyone possibly harm a girl in her condition?”
“I think it’s sick,” Tony launched and immediately fidgeted. “I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting for nothing. I have to run over to Dorothy’s place and get another dress. Her sister called and changed her mind again. The funeral’s tomorrow night and no one from the family can pick up the dress.”
“They’re certainly in a hurry to plant the old girl,” Ross remarked. “Didn’t the police just release the body this morning?”
Tony nodded and appeared frustrated by the entire situation. “The killer certainly left a mess,” he announced while exhaling a shaken breath. “Embalming her was a nightmare. Thankfully, there was no damage to her face, so they can still have an open casket.” Tony attempted to collect himself. “Her sister’s family is leaving the day after tomorrow for a month-long tour of Europe. They opted to have the funeral right away, so they wouldn’t have to postpone their trip.”
“How compassionate of them,” Ross muttered.
“You’re going to Dorothy’s place?” Devon asked while giving him a curious look.
“Yeah,” Tony replied
with a sigh. “I find it a little unsettling after what happened. They just took down the police line.”
Devon and Ross eagerly stood.
“We’ll come with you,” Devon announced a little too quickly.
Ross nodded without hesitation.
“You will?” Tony asked with surprise then suspiciously eyed them. “Why?”
“We just want to have a look around,” Devon announced while attempting to act casual.
Ross nodded again.
“You mean snoop,” Tony remarked with a huff then sighed while throwing his arms in the air. “All right. I’d rather not go there alone anyway. Just don’t do anything that will get me into trouble.”
Chapter Forty-four
Tony led Ross and Devon into Dorothy’s house through the garage door, which led into the kitchen. The front door remained sealed, even though the coroner had finished his investigation. Devon wondered why the front door remained sealed if they were finished. They followed Tony into the living room. All three immediately stopped when they saw the foyer area strewn with blood. There was blood spattered on the walls, pooled on the floor, and streaked down the door. Since no one was living in the house, the crime scene cleanup crew hadn’t been through yet.
Devon immediately clutched Ross’ arm while staring at the grisly scene. Ross clutched her hand nearly tight enough to cut off her circulation. He was possibly more horrified than she was. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, drew a deep breath, and then led them to the stairs, which took them closer to the spilled and spattered blood. Devon and Ross clung to each other as they neared the mess by the door.
“Poor Dorothy,” Devon whispered as they headed for the stairs, unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene. “No one deserves to die like that.”
Ross practically dragged her up the stairs, not wanting to see the graphic image any longer.
§
Once in Jamie’s bedroom, Ross and Devon sifted through drawers and poked around in the closet. Devon removed a box filled with junk from the shelf in the closet. As she set it on the bed, Ross immediately joined her. They removed items from the box and studied them with interest. Ross removed a framed picture of Jamie and Chelsea.
“What a shame,” Ross remarked. “Two attractive girls; both lives ending in tragedy.”
“Except Chelsea was a sweet girl and Jamie was a troublemaker.”
“If it hadn’t been for the accident, Chelsea certainly would’ve given Jamie some fierce competition with the guys.”
Devon sorted through loose pictures in the box then removed a small, black velvet box from the bottom. Ross stared as she opened it. It contained a small, diamond engagement ring.
“Do you suppose that was from Karl?” Ross asked while raising his brow.
“I don’t remember them ever being engaged,” Devon informed him. “Karl never came across as commitment minded.”
“Someone else proposed to Jamie?” Ross asked then laughed. “Typical of her not to give the ring back.”
Devon placed it on her finger and eyed it. It was rather a tight fit. “Tiny too. Jamie would have to wear it on her pinkie.”
“Maybe she stole it,” Ross remarked then tilted his head with a curious look. “Or received it as hush money. That girl did drive a nice car for someone who barely worked full-time as a waitress.”
“Just makes me wonder who’d ask her to marry him besides Karl,” Devon remarked while deep in thought. “I know she had a ton of boyfriends, but they were usually the temporary type.”
“There are plenty of motives for someone to want Jamie dead.”
“Is it possible Dorothy killed Jamie in anger over this acting job?” Devon asked. “You know she’s totally against women flaunting themselves. She’s so self-righteous. She considered the others to be trashy women. Ivy too. Karl may have figured out that she’d killed Jamie and sought revenge on her.”
“But why take Chelsea?” he asked. “It’s not as if she’s a material witness.”
“I don’t know.”
“You know, you may be on to something,” Ross remarked. “All the women killed had two things in common. They all auditioned for the same acting job, and they were all close at one time. I mean, apart from Dorothy.”
“But how does Brant fit into all of this,” Devon practically demanded. “Was he just meant to be a scapegoat? And why Brant? No one really knows him. If you’re going to frame someone, you need to make sure they don’t have alibis for the murders. So who, apart from you, me, and Tyler, knew Brant’s movements enough to frame him?”
“Tyler has an alibi for two of the murders,” Ross announced. “If he didn’t, I might believe he had something to do with it.”
“Tyler knows less people in town than Brant,” Devon remarked. “Even if he didn’t have an alibi, what possible reason would he have for killing women he didn’t even know?” She shook her head. “There has to be some connection with the victims all being friends.”
“Ivy wasn’t their friend,” Ross remarked. “You and Ivy didn’t hang out with them in school.”
“Yes, but we don’t know that Ivy was targeted,” Devon informed him.
“She was called to that farmhouse where we found Paula dead,” Ross corrected. “I think she was an intended victim.”
“Maybe we were meant to think that,” Devon replied. “Why didn’t the killer show up? We certainly didn’t scare him off. Ivy was there a good half hour before we came along. He had plenty of motive and opportunity to kill her before we arrived.”
“It feels like it should be Karl,” Ross announced while shaking his head. “They need to track him down and question him--not Brant.”
Devon sank into thought then eyed Ross while grimacing. “It’s a long shot, I know,” she announced, “but they never found that guy who killed Christine seven years ago. What if it’s him? I mean, we don’t know who this stranger was. He could have known Christine’s friends and despised them.”
“They said they didn’t recognize the guy,” Ross corrected. “They said he was a stranger.”
“What if they lied?” Devon remarked. “What if the guy who killed Christine was some poor bastard they teased endlessly? They were good at bullying.”
“If that were the case, why wouldn’t they tell the police who killed Christine?” Ross practically demanded. “Why protect his identity, Inspector Clouseau?”
“Maybe he had something incriminating on them,” Devon announced while raising her brows. “What about that, my dear Mr. Stringer?”
Ross frowned. “Okay, I would have accepted Mr. Watson, but I’m no Mr. Stringer.”
Tony walked into the room with a dress draped over his arm and a slightly sickened look on his face. “Uh, I think the sheriff withheld some facts about Dorothy’s murder.”
“What makes you think that?” Ross asked.
Tony nodded them from the room. They sprang to their feet and hurried after him. All three entered Dorothy’s bedroom and saw the blood-tinged comforter and the word killer written in blood on the wall above the headboard.
“There was another body,” Devon gasped.
“Who?” Ross asked while staring wide-eyed at the writing in blood.
“I don’t know.”
“Tamara is still missing, and no one’s seen Joe,” Ross offered and looked at his friends.
“But why leave a body in Dorothy’s bed?” Tony asked while shaking his head. “Why killer written in blood?”
All three stared at the scene in silence.
Tony suddenly drew a deep breath and looked at them. “Anyone else ready to leave?” he asked.
Chapter Forty-five
Friday couldn’t have come soon enough. It had been a long, tiring week and this was the first time Devon couldn’t wait to leave her new job. Up until now, she had enjoyed her work at the museum, but with Brant missing and wanted by the police, she just couldn’t shake her feelings of anxiety. Devon pushed a hand truck containing a wax man depicted wi
th a painful expression on his face into the torture chamber. She gently slid him off the hand truck then moved him into place along the wall. His arms were in the air with his wrists limp. She easily connected the shackles to his wrists, took a step back, and studied the new addition.
Somehow, Brant had managed to work the wax creation perfectly without an inch to spare, so the shackles were tight against his wrists, and his dirty, bare feet just touched the floor. She was about to leave when she paused and looked around the torture chamber, taking it in. It was a gruesome display that would surely give adults nightmares. There was even a warning posted outside the entrance, so that visitors would be warned of the gory displays. Her job would be to add more blood to the set once all the figures were in place. She noticed a woman had been added to the display, which she found surprising. She didn’t think they were putting women in the torture chamber. Not that women weren’t tortured back in the medieval days, but she was certain Brant and Tyler decided against it.
Devon approached the lone woman stretched backward across the wheel. She was bent painfully with her wrists tied above her head and her ankles tied together near the bottom. Devon stared at the look of anguish on the woman’s once attractive face. She seemed to be crying out in terror. Her eyes immediately traveled to the woman’s tattered clothes, noting her rather large, exposed breast. The amazingly detailed breast was so lifelike, it made Devon squirm. She immediately felt her cheeks redden and harbored some anger at the audacity of the decision to have some big-breasted woman displayed half-naked. Why did men always have to go there?
She shook her head then was about to turn and leave when she paused. Devon turned back toward the woman, tugged on her tattered dress and covered the exposed breast. She gave a satisfied nod then took her hand truck and passed through the torture chamber. She eyed the man torn in two on the stretching rack.
Murder in Wax Page 18
