“No,” they both said at once.
She pretended to think, trying to seem unconcerned. “Um, maybe because I called her a couple days ago? What’d her message say?”
Fung leaned forward eagerly. “Why’d you call her if you didn’t know her?”
“What message did you leave?” Lange asked, simultaneously.
She looked from one to the other. “I didn’t leave a message. I called about the dinner party I’m having this Saturday. This was before I knew they had broken up. Sean had mentioned she was a vegetarian and I wanted to see if she ate eggs.” She smoothed her hands up and down her thighs. “But then I got anxious, because we don’t know each other, and I hung up without leaving a message. I have phone anxiety.” She chuckled and got no response.
“But didn’t you already know I called her?” she rattled on, needing to fill the silence. “You must have her phone records, right? So, you already know my call was only a few seconds long. What message did she leave for Sean?”
Fung ignored her question again and turned a page in his notebook. “We do have a call from your number,” he admitted. “But it was over a minute long. Much longer than if you’d hung up before the message played through.”
Ruby crossed her arms. “Oh, I listened to her entire long message and then I hesitated, for quite a while, because of my phone anxiety, before chickening out. What did Tara—”
“You’re certain you didn’t leave a message?” Fung said.
“Positive.” She dug her fingernails into her thighs. “What did she say?”
Fung sighed. “Ms. Dabler called Mr. Chaplin and said, “I have some news about that cartoonist friend of yours, Ruby Deardon. You won’t believe it.” What do you suppose she was referencing?”
She felt lighter all the sudden. They were fishing but they didn’t know anything yet. She smiled. “I have no idea.”
“It’s in your best interests to answer our questions fully,” Lange said.
She snorted. “No, it’s not. It’s in yours.”
They exchanged another significant look and neither of them spoke. Again, Ruby had to fill the silence. “So, we’re done now?”
“Not quite,” Fung said. They didn’t tell her about the herpes message, which, she needed to remember, they might not know about.
“You can’t think of any reason Ms. Dabler might have said that about you to Mr. Chaplin?” Lange said.
“I shouldn’t have to do your jobs for you, but of course, I can,” she said, as a reason came to her. “I’m in ScuttleBUZZ Magazine this week, and I know she was a fan of my cartoon. She probably read the article and—” she shrugged. “You figure it out.”
Fung glanced at his notebook again. “That would be ‘Left of Center?’”
“Yes.”
Lange said, “Do you have a copy of the ScuttleBUZZ article on you that we could see?”
Why should she help them? The magazine was sitting on her night table, but it was her first, big, national press, and she wanted it as a keepsake. “No. I was going to buy a copy when I went grocery shopping, but I forgot.”
“I’m sure it’s online,” Fung said. Both detectives got out their phones and began typing.
Ruby filled the silence a third time. “I really don’t see the point here. I didn’t know her, never met her, never spoke her…this is a dead end.”
“We’re just following leads,” Lange said as he scrolled.
“I understand that, but this isn’t going to help you.”
“I got it,” Fung said. Lange leaned over and they both began to read off his phone. Finally, Lange stepped away, looked up and said, “The date on this article is the eighteenth.”
She looked at him blankly. “So?”
“That’s next week.” Fung said. “How could Tara possibly have seen that article before she died?”
“I think it went on sale on Monday—”
“She died Monday night after working all day. She wouldn’t have had time to buy it.”
Ruby just managed not to say, “Yes, she would. She went to the grocery store right before she died. “Maybe she read it online like you,” Ruby said. “Maybe she subscribed to ScuttleBUZZ. Maybe she saw a copy at the hospital where she worked. Subscribers get copies earlier than they go on sale in the stores.”
“That’s true,” Lange rumbled. Ruby was glad Sean didn’t have a voice that low. It was getting on her nerves.
“We done? Because I need to finish my phone call,” she said, holding up her cell.
The two detectives looked at each other. “Just a few more questions, Miss Deardon,” Lange said. “Where were you last Monday night around six o’clock.”
Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades and down her back. Her face was suddenly shiny with it. She hadn’t been expecting this, though she should have been. “Excuse me?”
“We just need to know your whereabouts,” Fung said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“Am I a suspect?” She began gnawing on her hangnail again.
“We’re just tracking things down,” Lange said.
Ruby crossed her arms. “Should I call a lawyer?” she asked again.
“No,” Lange and Fung barked in unison.
Ruby looked back and forth between them. “Last Monday night?” she hedged, thinking quickly.
“Yes. Around 6 p.m.” Fung said.
“I was here, working on my cartoons.”
“You were alone?” Fung asked.
“Yes.”
“Did anybody call or come by? Can anybody confirm that you were here?” Lange said.
She licked her lips. “I got lots of calls, but I ignored them like I always do when I’m working. I also ignored my cell phone calls, and I always have that on me. Oh! I’m also being harassed by my neighbor, he’s actually my landlord, it’s complicated, so I’ve been screening my calls for about a week now. He called, and so did Sean—who also came by around nine, nine-thirty.”
“Why?” Lange said.
She narrowed her eyes. Prick. “For dinner. Is that allowed?”
“Basically, no one can confirm that you were here from six to nine o’clock Monday night?” Lange said.
She didn’t like his tone. “Actually, I talked to my editor Hal at around four and that was the last time I picked up the phone until about eight when Sean called. So, there are four hours where I didn’t speak to anyone, but I was here. I was working, and hell, if I’d known I was going to need an alibi, I’d have answered the frigging phone. It’s not against the law to live alone.”
Lange stood up. “You drive a Mini Cooper?”
Fung said, “That was it in the article.”
Ruby crossed her arms. “Yeah. Why?”
“And it’s black?”
“No, pink,” she said, at the same time Fung said, “It’s red.” Fung pulled up the article again and showed the picture to Lange before turning to face her again. “It’s…?”
“Pink. I told you. That picture was my car before I had it painted.”
Lange flipped through his clipboard and took something out. “This picture was taken by one of Ms. Dabler’s neighbors. They had a surveillance camera going on the night of the accident,” Lange said, watching her carefully.
Ruby’s heart ran away from home, but she kept her face neutral. “Let’s see.”
He handed Ruby a picture of her car from that night that stunned her. It was damaged and bloody and it looked dark gray, maybe black but definitely not pink under the sulfur streetlights. The picture didn’t show the driver or the plates.
“Is that your car?” he said.
“No.”
“You’re certain?” Fung said, raising an eyebrow. “Same make, same model—”
“Same plates?” she asked.
His face clouded. “The camera didn’t get the license plates.”
“But another one did,” Lange said. “Many people have surveillance cameras these days.”
“If you have pictures showing
my license plate, I want to see them,” Ruby said.
The two men looked at each other again. Fung said, “In due time.”
He lied! This was all they had! Ruby handed the photo back, managing not to smirk. “Like I said, not my car. My car’s pink, not gray, and certainly not black.”
“We’ll need to see your car then. Just to make sure,” Lange said.
“You can’t.”
“We can get a warrant.”
“No, you can’t see it because it’s been stolen.”
Both men’s heads snapped up at this. “It was stolen today, ma’am?” Fung said. “Just today?”
“No. Actually, it was stolen Monday afternoon, but I didn’t realize it was gone—it’s a long story—until yesterday, so I reported it missing last night.”
“Why didn’t you notice your car was missing?” Lange said.
Ruby sat back and crossed her legs. “Nope. We’re done. You’re here because I’m a suspect. You just said as much, and I demand a lawyer before I answer any more questions.”
“Which detective did you say was working your case?” Lange said.
“Lawyer,” Ruby said.
Both detectives stood up and she followed suit, hoping they were about to leave.
“Would you mind if we had a quick look at your garage?” Fung piped up. “I promise, no more questions.”
“But my car’s not there.”
“We’d just like to take a look.”
Ruby hesitated, thinking. If she said no, would they really get a warrant? And if they got a warrant, would they come back with investigators with tweezers and little baggies looking for fibers and hair? She didn’t think they had enough evidence to get a warrant, but it was probably better to give them a brief, supervised look, and be seen as helpful with nothing to hide.
“I should make you get a warrant, but I won’t. Go ahead and look but hurry up. I’m busy.”
She led them to the garage door and stood back as they went inside. Thank God she’d gotten rid of her car.
The bleach smell was still there, and she tried not to stare at the full garbage bag with the mop handle protruding from it. She chewed her lip. She’d hoped to be rid of that junk before the police came here.
Fung merely looked around perfunctorily, but Lange smelled the bag before he got down on his haunches, squinting carefully at the cement floor as he swept his hand over it.
Ruby moseyed over to him to make sure he didn’t steal anything to get analyzed. “This place reeks of bleach,” he said, staring hard at her. “And your eyes are red. Doing a little spring cleaning?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Lawyer! Arrest me or get out.”
“Thank you for your time,” Fung said.
“I’m making a formal complaint. I clearly asked you for a lawyer multiple times, and you ignored me.”
“Have a nice evening, ma’am,” Lange said. She didn’t like his smirk.
They made their way out of the garage and towards her front door. She was careful not to slam it behind them.
After they were gone, she stood against the wall breathing hard.
That had been close.
CHAPTER 24
She needed a shower, but maybe she should call Ben about those pictures of Jeremy trying to break into her phone first…She noticed the message light on her answering machine was still blinking. She hadn’t finished listening to her messages last night, so that’s probably why, but…maybe Sean had called while she was asleep?
Sean didn’t have her home number, but she ignored this fact. Hope bubbled in her chest as she pressed the button and listened to the last message. It had come in at 10:30 yesterday morning, while she’d been in the garage scrubbing away bits of Tara. She clasped her hands together hoping the message was from Sean. When she heard Jeremy’s pissed off voice starting, she kicked the wall.
“Whose car was at your house all night long? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend. It better have been Hilary’s car!” And then his voice broke. “This is the last time, the absolute last time I’m going to call you. If you don’t call me back, I’m going to…” There was a long pause and then he growled, “Well, you’ll regret it!”
“Oh, just go kill yourself,” she muttered. She needed to save all his threatening messages to her phone and then get rid of the answering machine—wait. Her last message came in over twenty-four hours ago? Come to think of it, her phone hadn’t rung today at all.
Did she even have a phone number anymore? She’d dumped it, of course, but she’d been told it could take days…She picked up her phone and smiled wide. No dial tone! That explained why Sean hadn’t called.
Of course, he only had her cell phone number, but she squashed that little voice in her head. He’d probably misplaced her cell number and had found her home number on the internet. It wasn’t hard.
She bet he’d been trying to get a hold of her since yesterday morning. Why, he must’ve called dozens of times—he was probably frantic by now. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was on his way over to her house right now just to make sure she was okay.
A warm feeling of well-being suffused through her. Sean cared about her. She was loved.
She grabbed her cell, leaving it plugged in so it didn’t die, dialed his number quickly, and waited, with sweaty palms for him to answer so she could put him out of his misery.
“Hello?” Sean said. Ruby almost didn’t recognize his voice, which lacked his usual bouncy manner. He sounded drained.
She was suddenly afraid to talk to him. What if he really had blown her off because of Tara and that damned herpes call? She waited a moment too long to speak and he barked the word, “Hello!”
She took a deep breath. “Sean, hi! It’s me, Ruby!” she said, hating the desperate, on-the-verge of tears quality that she heard in her voice, but unable to control it. “How are you?” Without pausing for him to answer, she continued, “My landline’s finally gone, and I figured that had to be the reason I haven’t heard from you.” Why had she said that? She sounded so desperate. There was a long pause. To fill it she said, “Right?”
“I talked to the police about Tara yesterday,” he said in a flat voice as her eyes bugged out. “Have they talked to you yet?”
“Um, yes,” she said. “They just left.” She heard him suck in his breath. “Though I still don’t understand why they came here. Like I told them, I didn’t even know her!”
“Are you sure?” he asked, and Ruby broke out in a cold sweat.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about,” she said carefully.
“The police called back the last person she’d called, and it was me. I wasn’t home at the time, so she left me a message just minutes before she was murdered.”
She swallowed hard. Murdered. Before she could reply Sean said, “The message she left was about you.”
Ruby bent over and grabbed her stomach, trying not to puke. What if the police had withheld something from her? Dammit. That message had been the stupidest idea she’d ever had! “What’d she say?” Her mind spun through possible stories like lightning. Tara was jealous of her, Tara was insane, Tara was mistaken, Tara was a pathological liar… “What, exactly, did she say?”
“She said she had some news about ‘that cartoonist—Ruby Deardon, and that I wouldn’t believe it. She asked me to call her ASAP, and then she died. So please tell me what you think it means because it’s driving me crazy.”
Ruby collapsed backwards onto her couch, so relieved she could cry. She smiled instead. “I can only think of one thing. It’s what I told the police just now. I’m featured in ScuttleBUZZ Magazine this week, and you said she was a fan. Maybe she read the article and was calling to tell you? That has to be it. I mean, I don’t even know her. I didn’t even know her last name until I heard it on the news.” Shut up! Stop rambling! You’re acting suspicious!
“Really? You’re really in ScuttleBUZZ?”
“It’s just a short article about ‘Left of Cente
r,’ but it’s the only thing I can think of that Tara would have wanted to tell you about me.”
“You know, you’re probably right.” he said, and Ruby practically felt him relax. “At least that mystery’s been solved.”
The way he said it made her curious. “What other mystery is there?” Then she remembered that he didn’t know who’d killed Tara. “I mean, other than who killed her, of course.”
“It was probably just some drunk.”
“…Is something else bothering you?” She refused to believe he could still be so upset about Tara’s death. “You can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”
“No.…Well, there is one thing. Remember that stalker I told you about?”
Where was this headed? “Yeah?”
“You won’t believe this. The police played a message for me that Tara had apparently heard and saved right before she died. They—”
Fuck.
“—wanted to know if I knew anything about it. It was…” he hesitated. “…a really strange message.”
“What’d it say?”
“That’s the strange part,” he said. “It was a girl, and she was British. She threatened Tara and told her to stay away from me, and then she said…”
“What?”
“She said I had a venereal disease!” He hurried on, “Which I don’t. Don’t worry, I’m clean. But who would say something like that? I don’t get it.”
“Of course, you don’t have herpes—” Sean hadn’t specified herpes! She punched her thigh and continued quickly, “Or syphilis or gonorrhea or genital warts…” Stop naming venereal diseases you sicko! “I know that. Did you recognize her voice? Was it one of your ex-girlfriends?”
“I’ve never dated a British girl, though her voice did sound vaguely familiar. But my brother Nick was the one who recognized her voice.”
“What?” Ruby said.
“He knew right away that she was the girl who’s stalking me. Ashley. So now this woman is not only hurting me, but she might have killed Tara!”
“Is that what the police said?” she squeaked. “They think Ashley ran her down?”
“No! I just meant that Ashley’s call probably upset her, and Tara was probably preoccupied when she went to get her mail…If I’d only been home when she called, I might have calmed her down.”
Drawn To You: A Psychological thriller Page 22
