The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  “No, Kerry would never hurt my dad. He’s been like a father to him. Besides, Dad’s in good hands. The hospital staff is constantly monitoring him.”

  Susan detected trepidation in Dylan’s voice.

  “If what Susan suspects is true, Deputy Lightfoot deserves an Oscar. He sure had me fooled,” Wesley said.

  “So you believe what she saw to be real?” Dylan asked.

  “I wouldn’t bet against her.”

  “Damn,” Dylan said as he sat back hard in his seat.

  For the next few miles, they rode in silence.

  Then Dylan eased over the front seat again. “Soon as I check in with headquarters in the morning, I’m heading back to Gulfport. I want to make sure Dad’s okay, and I will keep an eye on Kerry.”

  “Glad you made that decision,” Wesley said.

  Susan decided to bring the subject back to Palmetto, although she knew Dylan wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about his dad. “It’ll be good to get home. I’ve so many things I need to do.”

  “I know what you mean,” Wesley said. “Our absence has left the department thin. Bet the guys covering for us will be glad we’re back. Also, since you’re going to be out for a while, Dylan, I’m hoping I can have some input as to who will be working with me.”

  Dylan settled back in his seat. “I won’t be gone long, partner. I’m sure Dad will recover fully and everything will be back to normal in a few weeks.”

  The drive home seemed to take forever. The same flat highway bordered on either side by trees provided a boring and continuous vista. No mountains here, not even a hill to get a distant view of the road ahead. Susan glanced at her watch. “Four o’clock. We should reach Palmetto in another thirty minutes.”

  “We’d have been home a couple of hours ago, if we hadn’t had that scare with the van,” Wesley said.

  “Well, the time really isn’t important,” Susan said. “It’s Sunday. The boutique and Purple Pickle are closed. All we have to do is unload the costumes and return the rented van. I don’t know about you two, but I can’t wait to crawl into a nice warm tub.”

  “You want company?” Wesley asked.

  Susan frowned and motioned toward the back seat.

  Dylan perked up and leaned forward. “I’d be glad to volunteer.”

  Susan was glad to see Dylan’s spirits lifted.

  Wesley cleared his throat. “Not if you want to live to see tomorrow.”

  Dylan moaned. “You’re no fun at all.”

  The afternoon sun streamed through the windshield, and Susan lowered the visor to block the glare. She and A. K. had fought the sunrise on their way to Biloxi. Now they had to contend with the afternoon rays as they drove westward. Only this time, the glare no longer produced the blinding light. Instead, all she saw was an image of Kerry, shining his badge, a sinister smile on his face. She still couldn’t believe he had fooled them all.

  A. K. led the caravan around to the warehouse door. There she climbed out and walked back to Wesley’s truck. “The fire damage doesn’t look too bad,” she said, pointing at the back wall, “but we’ll want to get it cleaned and repainted as soon as possible.” She leaned into Wesley’s lowered window. “Do you want to unload here, Susan, or at the Purple Pickle?”

  “We might as well stack everything in the warehouse. We can do an inventory tomorrow. You might decide to leave most of the merchandise in storage to save room for new costumes.”

  Susan climbed out of the truck and took a good look at the fire damage.

  “Thank goodness for Melanie,” she said as she unlocked the door and turned on the lights.

  A. K. opened the rear of the van. Jack, Wesley, and Dylan emptied the contents in a matter of minutes.

  “Jack and I are going to return the van,” A. K. said. “I’ll pick up my car after that. See you in the morning.”

  “Anything else we can do?” Wesley asked Susan.

  “Don’t think so.” She turned off the lights and locked the door.

  Dylan raised his arms over his head and gave a big, long stretch. “Maybe our next trip won’t be quite so eventful.” He looked at Susan and sighed. “Okay, partner, get a move on it. I’ve washing and repacking to do.”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” Wesley said to Dylan, who winked and made his way back to the truck.

  Wesley took Susan’s arm and walked her to her car. “Sure you don’t want company for that bath?”

  “You are persistent. I’ll give you that.” She put her hand behind his head and, stretching up on tiptoes, met his lips. “Can I take a rain check? I really do need to recharge.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and kissed her forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Susan arrived at her apartment and unpacked her car.

  “Home,” she mumbled as she opened the door to her apartment. Once inside, she turned loose of her luggage and dropped her purse and garment bag on the sofa. No rowdy crowds, no loud music, only the light scent of lavender potpourri greeted her…that, and Marmalade. Sitting stiff and regal on the arm of a recliner, the cat eyed her with an about-time-you-got-home look. The feline showed absolutely no excitement. To do so would destroy her façade. Like a monarch on her throne, Marmalade seemed to be waiting for Susan to pay her homage.

  “Come here, you big baby. I know you missed me.” Susan took the cat into her arms and ruffled her fur. The façade crumbled. A few minutes later, she wanted down. Marmalade headed straight for Susan’s luggage and garment bag, rubbing and marking them with her scent.

  Susan carried her purse to the bedroom, where she undressed. After drawing a steaming bath, she lit several candles. At first, she was glad for the peace and quiet, but the silence soon grated on her nerves. If only she could wash away the scene at the cemetery, everything would be okay. Shedding her clothes, she eased into the water.

  Ah, this is right—back to normal, she thought. Mississippi is no longer Wesley or Dylan’s concern. Their place is here. Still, Dylan and his dad needed to be wary of Kerry.

  After her bath, Susan changed into a nightgown and robe and visited the kitchen, where she fixed a ham and cheese sandwich, along with a glass of milk. But neither the bath nor the food helped her to fall asleep. Pushing back the covers, she pulled the cell phone from her purse and punched in a number. “Hello, Mom, it’s me. You got a minute?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  “First, how are you and Dad? I know I’m past due for a visit, but things have really been hectic.”

  “We have our aches and pains, but nothing that doesn’t come with old age. I was hoping we’d see more of you when you moved back home, but it seems you stay so busy. Just remember, the door’s always open.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Okay, Susan, I know you didn’t call just to chitchat. Something’s bothering you.”

  “That’s for sure. I’m hoping you can help me. Thing is, you might think I’m crazy. Ever since I fell and hit my head, I’ve been seeing things. At first, I thought I might have damaged my eyes, but that’s not the case.”

  “What are you seeing?”

  “Brief flashes of people or objects. At first, they don’t make any sense. Then, like pieces of a puzzle, they come together and gradually reveal what’s unfolding. Almost always what I see turns out to be a warning.” Susan waited for her mother to say something. When she didn’t, Susan asked, “Am I losing my mind?”

  “My dear, sweet child, I wondered if you had the gift. Rest assured your injury wasn’t the cause of your psychic ability, and that’s what it is.”

  “Of course it did. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “Susan, do you remember when you were about twelve and away at a summer camp? You played sick to avoid a hike down a ravine where the campers were to explore a creek bed.”

  “How could I ever forget that? The night before, I had a dream that the campers were caught in a flash flood. I knew the counselors wouldn’t cancel the hike just because of a dream, so
I said nothing. It happened just the way I saw it. I can still hear the screams, the roar of the water. From the edge of the ravine I watched as the campers clung to roots and vines protruding from the cliffs and struggled to pull themselves up the slopes. It was a miracle no one lost their life.”

  “And what about the time in high school when you refused to attend a fieldtrip?”

  “Another terrible dream—I saw the bus misjudge a curve and overturn. This time, there were serious injuries.”

  “Those weren’t dreams, my dear. They were premonitions. I know because I watched my mother experience the same thing.”

  “Grandma? Are you serious?”

  “Afraid so. It was years before she confided in me. Like you, she thought she was losing her mind. I kept waiting to see if it would happen to me, but it never did.”

  “How am I supposed to cope with this…this thing? It’s like living two lives—one in the real world and the other in Neverland.”

  “Embrace it. In time, your grandmother learned to accept her gift, and you will too. It is a gift, Susan.”

  “Did you ever tell Edward about Grandma?”

  “I didn’t see a reason to do that as he has never exhibited any signs. In fact, the less everyone knew about your grandmother, the better. Most people wouldn’t understand. And that’s the way she wanted it.”

  “I find it difficult to cope with it. Maybe in time…I’m glad you told me, glad I can come to you when I can’t work things out.”

  “I don’t know that I can help, but I’m always here for you.”

  “Try this one on for size. It had me in knots.” Susan confided in her mom about her vision involving the cemetery. “I told Dylan, who knows about my visions, but I’m worried about what Kerry and Betty Sue have planned or who it involves. It seemed only fair that Dylan and Chief Powell be forewarned that they could be in danger. What do you think? Did I do the right thing?”

  “I’m pretty sure your grandmother would have advised you to do just that. Let them draw their own conclusions. If you didn’t say anything, and something happens to either of them, you’d never forgive yourself.”

  “You’re right. There’s something else. Did Grandmother ever see something and never discover its meaning?”

  “I’m not sure about that. Whatever you see, you’re just going to have to trust your instincts, watch for anything that might explain its meaning. I wish your grandmother were here to help you through this.”

  “Me, too, Mom, but knowing you understand my situation and are there for me means everything.” She gave her mother a kiss over the phone.

  “Anything else, dear?”

  “Yes, there is something I’m curious about, something that doesn’t have anything to do with my visions. I’m worried about Edward.”

  “Is something wrong with him?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out. He came to visit me at the shop a couple of times. The last time he stopped by the boutique, I was in Biloxi. You and I both know that’s not like Edward. More often than not, I have to twist his arm to come see me. And when he was there, he acted strange.”

  “Like what?”

  “He had a goofy grin on his face and didn’t seem to be paying attention to our conversation. Come to think of it, he acted like he did when he was in high school and fell head-over-heels in love. Has he said anything to you about meeting someone? I find it hard to believe he could be serious about anyone. Edward is a confirmed bachelor. Guess I’m just going to have to wait until he comes clean.”

  Her mother paused before answering. When she did, she fumbled her way through an answer. “I…I wouldn’t begin to try to understand Edward, but if that’s the case, it would make me very happy. You know how much I want grandchildren. Speaking of that, how are things with you and Wesley? Any plans for the future?”

  “That’s one premonition I haven’t had.” Susan laughed. “Seriously, things are fine between us. If anything develops, you’ll be the first to know.” She yawned. “You’ve been a big help, Mom. You always were my rock. Got a feeling I’m going to get a good night’s sleep tonight. I’ll let you know how things work out.”

  Monday morning, Wesley and Dylan arrived at headquarters promptly at eight o’clock. One look around the office, and a thought flashed through Wesley’s mind—I could be gone for years, and this room would never change. Cluttered desks, hanging suit coats that could stand a trip to the cleaners, and the smell of burnt coffee greeted him.

  Chief Smith emerged from his office nursing a cup of the overripe joe. He looked surprised to see them. “I thought you two were on leave until Tuesday.”

  “Not anymore,” Dylan said.

  One of the narcotic detectives who had been covering for them got up from his desk. “Glad you’re back. Homicide is not my thing.” He picked up several folders and dropped them on Wesley’s desk.

  “I want to hear all about it,” the chief said, motioning them into his office.

  Wesley and Dylan sat facing Chief Smith, who eased down in his office chair and rocked back. A crumpled wrapper atop the chief’s desk and the smell of sausage and biscuit meant the chief was off his diet, at least when his wife couldn’t see what he was eating.

  Wadding up the biscuit’s wrapper, the chief chucked it into a wastebasket. “My wife means well, but a daily dose of oatmeal gets boring.” He hesitated and glanced from one detective to the other. “Well, did they arrest Randy?”

  “Randy’s dead.” Wesley watched the chief’s eyebrows rise. “Gulfport police found him with a bullet in the head in a motel room. Preliminary examination suggests suicide.”

  Chief Smith wiped a few crumbs from his mouth with his hand. “Is that what you think?”

  “I’m not sure. A lot of strange things happened while we were there.” Wesley told the chief about the explosion, Susan’s abduction, and the incident with the van. “Regardless, it’s no longer our problem.”

  “Did they find any evidence that linked Randy to Lorraine’s death?”

  “Kerry was able to lift some blood and hair fibers before Randy’s boat exploded. I’m pretty sure the evidence will put Lorraine on Randy’s boat. That and my eye witness from the Rusty Nail should be enough to close the case.”

  Dylan leaned forward in his chair. “When Randy’s boat exploded, we all could have been killed or seriously hurt. The worst thing that happened was that it caused my dad to suffer a heart attack.”

  Chief Smith rose from his chair, his face creased in worry. “How is Vernon?”

  “He was okay when we left. The medics got there in a hurry, and the hospital was only a few minutes away. The doctor expects him to make a full recovery. He should be released from the hospital in a day or two.”

  “Thank goodness. You need to be with him.”

  “Thanks, Chief. That was my plan. I’m packed and ready to go. I’ll be back as soon as he’s able to do for himself.”

  “From the stack of folders I was just handed, it looks like I’ll have enough to keep me busy until you get back, Dylan. It’s going to take me a while to go through them and arrange interviews,” Wesley said.

  “If you need a temporary partner, let me know,” Chief Smith said.

  “Nah, I think I can handle it for a while. Right now, I need to contact Elton Jenkins and let him know we won’t be needing him as a witness, then I want to pay Myrtle a visit, let her know it’s over.”

  As Dylan and Wesley stood to leave, Dylan’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, obviously not liking what he saw. “It’s the hospital,” he explained before answering. “This is Dylan. Is something wrong?” His face paled, and he plopped down in his chair. “I’ll be right there.” He swallowed hard and looked up at Wesley. “He’s gone. My dad’s dead.”

  Tears spilled from Dylan’s eyes as he bit down on his lower lip. Even then he couldn’t keep his chin from quivering. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

  Wesley was at a loss for words.

  Dylan sq
ueezed the arms of the chair and looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “How do you go from being fine to dead? Something’s not right.” He stared hard at Wesley. “I should never have left him.”

  “Who was that? What’d they say?” the chief asked.

  Dylan sniffed and swiped his face with his hands. “That was the doctor. He said Deputy Lightfoot was visiting with Dad and shouted for help. The doctor said Dad had a massive heart attack. They worked on him, but couldn’t revive him.”

  “I can’t believe it, either,” Wesley said. “He was doing so well.”

  Dylan pounded the arm of the chair with his fist. “You can bet I’m going to look into it.”

  The chief walked around his desk and put his hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Take as much time as you need and call us when you’ve made arrangements.”

  Wesley eyes welled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  Dylan rose and nodded at the two men. Taking a deep breath, he regained some of his composure. “I just can’t imagine life without him. He was all I had.”

  As the chief returned to his chair, Wesley put his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Thanks, but I need to handle this.”

  Dylan left the station without saying a word to the men in the office, but from his demeanor, the guys had to know something was wrong. The usually spunky detective crossed the room with shoulders slumped and his head down.

  Wesley followed him into the parking lot. “I’m still at a loss for words. Sorry isn’t enough. I know how I hurt when my dad died.”

  “I should have listened to Susan. If I had stayed with Dad, he might still be alive.”

  “Don’t start blaming yourself. Even if you had been there, you might not have been able to prevent his death. Maybe it was the result of natural causes. You can request an autopsy, but even then, you might not find what you’re looking for.”

  Dylan wiped his eyes. “It doesn’t seem real. I can’t imagine him not being here.”

  “I wish I could do something to ease your pain, but I can’t. And nothing I can say will make it better.” Wesley grabbed his partner and gave him a bear hug. “Anything, you hear me? Don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be there for you.”