Once Upon a Murder

by Kodi Heart

  My jaw dropped open. My aunts were the epitome of class until they opened their mouths. In the last year or so since I’d seen them last, they had amped up their outrageousness, not even bothering to dim their voices. “Aunt Kathy I don't think you should ask his sister that.” I held my tone softer, hoping to encourage quieter talking. But I wasn’t daft. Of course, they wouldn’t match me. If anything, Aunt Cari would probably talk louder.

  Aunt Kathy set her glass back on the table and leaned back in the chair. “Of course, you’re right.” But her expression was unapologetic. “In any case, if he looks half as good as he did then, I might snap him up and eat him for breakfast. He looks even better than those orange rolls and he probably doesn’t have half the calories.” She winked.

  We took a break from our conversation to fill our plates at the buffet tables. Upon returning, we dug in with relish. My favorite was the orange rolls as well.

  Aunt Cari pulled an orange roll apart and ate them in pieces. She licked the stickiness off of her lips with a pierced tongue.

  “You had your tongue pierced? When was that done?” A spark of jealousy shot through me. My aunts had more gumption than anyone I've ever met. There they were pursuing whatever and whoever they wanted and I still couldn’t get up the nerve to ask Robyn if I could date her brother.

  I’d honestly rather get my belly button pierced.

  Sticking out her tongue, Aunt Cari tried seeing the blue diamond round ball protruding from the center of her tongue. Her words came out slightly garbled but I understood them easily enough. “Isn't it cool? I just love it. It hurt like the dickens though.”

  Dickens mixed with my aunt’s pierced tongue? The things I had missed were more likely too numerous to count.

  A wave of melancholy washed over me. I had missed them so much and it was evident they'd missed me.

  We spent the rest of the breakfast talking about piercings, tattoos, and dead bodies on decks. Who knew murder would make me laugh so hard?

  Chapter 9

  Robyn’s struggle was real as the valet pulled up in her red Geo Metro convertible. The clouds hovered close like they weren’t sure if they wanted to rain on us in Robyn’s car or not.

  Thankfully, my curls didn’t care one way or the other – they created chaos all over the place, rain or shine.

  We didn’t really have a reason to visit Tesha. I voiced my concerns to Robyn, sitting beside her in the little car with the top down. Sometimes, I think Robyn taunted the weather in a challenge. “I don’t know about going out to Tesha’s. What if she senses something? Do you think she did it? What if she did it and she suspects we’re there to find out if she did? She might try to kill us.”

  Robyn laughed, her ponytail whipping around her neck and ears. “Please... I could take her.” She glanced over at me, taking in my pink capris and yellow top. “I don’t think you could, but you might surprise us all.” She winked and pulled on her wide framed sunglasses.

  I spluttered in righteous anger, but I wasn’t really mad. “You’re the biggest brat. I’m tougher than you think I am. You’d be surprised what kind of a hit I can take.” I glanced out the window and watched the freeway whiz by as we entered Spokane from the east.

  The sudden quiet from Robyn pulled my attention that way. She reached over and patted my knee. “I know. I should’ve seen it. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.”

  Shaking my head, I called out over the rushing wind blowing around us. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” But I lied. Staying with David had been my decision. Now the man was dead and we couldn’t even move past any of it and mourn appropriately because we were suspects in his murder.

  “How should we ask Tesha?” I needed to redirect the topic. Focusing so much on my relationship with David brought into too close of focus the fact that we were talking about a relationship and me and I hadn’t broached the subject of Grant and I.

  Robyn half-shrugged and turned on the blinker to take the next exit. “Grant said not to tell anyone anything. If Paul shows up or finds us and gets us in a position to question us, we’re not supposed to mention even knowing about the body. Don’t deny finding it, if he asks, because you called in and reported finding it. Grant was just saying don’t offer any information.”

  “Is Paul looking for us?” I grabbed the shiny seatbelt strap across my chest as Robyn rounded the curve of the exit. She did nothing halfway, including trying to scare me into a heart attack with her driving.

  She snorted, the sound clear as our speed lessened and the roaring of the air around us calmed. “Oh, yeah. You more than anyone.”

  Paul Davis. He plagued me like a would-be stalker. I never took him up on his offers and I’d never go out with the likes of him. He’d strutted like a rooster when he’d received his first badge. We’d all gone to school together growing up and Paul... Paul hadn’t even been a cop for a full ten years before he’d been promoted. I would’ve thought he had calmed down with his pursuit of me. But he hadn’t. He’d focused on me when David had been photographed with me for an article in the paper. David’s fame was expansive in north Idaho.

  Paul hadn’t moved on and I needed him to.

  “I still can’t believe he’d cried like that when you turned him down.” Robyn had no idea why I had.

  I smiled uncomfortably, remembering the time I’d spent with Grant. We’d gotten caught up in a moment and I’d gone with him somewhere to make out. Like a kid. I still didn’t regret it. I didn’t regret any of my time with that man.

  But we’d been kissing in my car and a knock on the window had us jerk apart. Paul had knocked on my window, anger reddening his face enough to see in the dim night lighting.

  He’d spotted Grant and he’d gotten even madder. “Him? You’ll hide in the dark with him, but you won’t be seen with me?” Paul had turned away, tears in his eyes.

  I felt bad, but not bad enough to go out with him.

  If he was determined I was guilty, then I didn't have very much time to prove I wasn't. He’d find me. He knew my hangouts and he knew the people I hung out with. The only way I could protect myself from being convicted, was to find who really had done killed David.

  “Seriously, why couldn’t you just go out with him a couple times?” Robyn shook her head. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple guys on our side in the police department.”

  “Because... I was dating other guys when he wanted me.” I couldn’t tell her Grant was one of them. She’d never understand.

  “Who? All three times he’s asked you, you were single. I remember.” She thrust her finger into the air between us. “You should call him up and ask him out.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t reek of desperation.” I rolled my eyes and pointed at the next street sign. “Take this right.”

  I didn’t need pressure from someone who barely got dressed every day to go on a date with a man I could never date. “Dating Paul wouldn’t fix our current problems. If anything, he’d make them worse.” He’d be locked up in my information and business and probably go more controlling than anything. Plus, he’d be furious for David being there. Paul was the jealous kind.

  “What if David had been killed by Paul?” The theory warranted merit and Robyn and I glanced at each other, our eyes wide. I shook my head. “One suspect at a time.”

  Robyn laughed out loud. “Look at you, talking like a cop. Remember, you’re an author, you don’t know how to take fingerprints or anything else.” She grinned and pulled alongside the curb when I pointed at the house.

  Orange plastic garbage bags with black Jack-o-Lantern faces sat on the lawn of the three-story colonial home. A fake black cat sat in the front window.

  “I can’t believe it’s October already.” Robyn shut off the car, unbuckling her seatbelt. She waited for me to follow suit before opening her door.

  I sighed, shutting my car door and staring up at the house. “Yeah, I have a book due in nine days.” I shook my head, trying not to let the panic at an impendi
ng deadline send my muscles into a spasm.

  We climbed the steps to Tesha’s home before the panic could completely claim me.

  Robyn leaned over as we reached the door. She glanced at me, a knowing arch to her eyebrow. “How much do you have left to do? A quarter and the edits?” She winked.

  It wouldn’t take much to shock that smirk right off her face. “All of it. I don’t even have an outline yet.” I looked straight ahead but not before I caught a glimpse of her complete dismay. I wanted to nod and say yeah, now do you understand? But her shock was enough for me.

  “Are you behind on a deadline, Olivia?” Tesha’s voice startled us and we spun from the door. She sat on an Adirondack swing that hung from the exposed beams in the covered porch. A red and blue afghan draped across her lap and she feverishly worked two long needles and yarn. I couldn’t say if it was knitting or crochet.

  My crafting ability extended to creating graphics and cover art on my computer when I had spare time. And pizza. I was really good at making pizza.

  The rain only came in a mist in Spokane, like sitting in the middle of a thick cloud. And the homes, oh, the homes in that part of town were old with personality as their owners coddled the historic traditions of maintaining the charming original designs.

  “I am behind, Tesha.” I glanced at Robyn, searching my memory for anything I might have said since we got there that she might have overheard.

  Unable to come up with anything, I tried to calm my paranoia. I hadn’t said anything, which meant she had nothing to suspect.

  She shifted to the edge of the swing and patted the slatted seat beside her. “Please, have a seat. If you’re behind on a deadline, why are you visiting me?”

  “Are you kidding? Olivia would rather procrastinate until the very last minute. You, Tesha, are her procrastination today. Thank heavens. I was the procrastination tool yesterday.” Robyn’s chuckle surprised me and I sent a slight glare toward the back of her head as I followed her to the swing. The brat was constantly throwing me under the bus, but I understood why she said what she said.

  I just didn’t think we needed to mention my propensity for putting things off.

  “Come on, ladies. Don’t be shy. I have extra blankets for your laps and we can stay out here. I love this fall weather. We won’t have the warmth for long.” She rapped on the glass for husband who came to the door. “Can you, please, bring us some tea, Nelson?” He glanced at us and nodded, quietly.

  Tesha’s husband had a softness about him that suggested he had no idea about her crazy side. The woman could write the scariest killing scenes I’d ever read. She was worse than King and Patterson combined with a splash of Cornwell.

  I turned toward Tesha. I really wanted to get down to business. The weight of suspicion dragged on me. How would I ever meet deadlines in prison? “How are you? Did you get a good critique last night? I didn’t get a chance to look at chapters. I’ll look at them later this week, if that’s okay.”

  She waved her hand at me as if shooing away my apology. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about it. I know my book isn’t for everyone. That’s okay.” She pushed us on the swing with a gentle shove with her toe on the deck. We swung forward and back a couple inches, but it was enough to make me feel almost as if we were in the South. Minus the damp chill, of course.

  Robyn handed me a thick knitted blanket and draped one with a similar chevron pattern across her own lap. She had her eyes wide and I could almost hear her thoughts – we’re sitting with a killer. This isn’t crazy at all.

  I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do. Thankfully, I was nosy enough to find my own way. “Thank you for your support yesterday. It meant a lot to me.” Would she pick up on the double-meaning in my words? Would she understand that I thought she was trying to help me by causing David's death?

  She set the needle down and leaned toward me, patting my shoulder. “It's fine, dear, don't even worry about it. You're one of us. We, women, need to stick together.”

  Guilt consumed me. Women did need to stick together. Was I betraying a sister by suspecting her of murder? Had I done something to her by bringing up the details of the scene and making Grant suspect her?

  Robyn wrapped her arms under the blanket and leaned in to see around me. “How are your books going, Tesha? I still think it's amazing that someone so sweet could be so gruesome. It is absolutely beyond me.” She and I cringed a bit while Tesha giggled.

  I didn't take my eyes off Tesha.

  Tesha’s grin only widened. “Okay, I’m going to tell you guys a secret, but you have to promise not to tell?” Was that it? Was she going to tell us that the way she got her ideas was by practicing them? She would end with telling us that she was the one who killed David? Her eyes twinkled and she whispered rather loudly, “I get all of my murder scenes from my husband. You wouldn’t think it, but he has watched so many real life mystery shows and he has so many great ideas... sometimes I think he really wants to kill someone.”

  Her scenes weren’t even hers. As I took in the peaceful setting and her silver-laced blonde hair pulled back in a bun, her confession made sense. She was never willing to make changes to the specific death scenes, as if they weren’t hers to change. Anything else, she changed with abandon. She didn’t care about her own stuff. Arguing about the color of the scene props hadn’t been something that was in her control. She had to defend the scene. It was her husband’s.

  If I had a husband and he made a scene, I’d defend it, too.

  I could almost see Tesha and her husband working as co-authors in their office, conspiring over dinner. Nothing was out of bounds when a couple worked together. “Where did you go after the writer’s group last night? I was going to ask you about a cover coming up. You’re so good with colors.”

  She smiled gratefully at me. “That’s so kind of you to say. Have you seen that new movie, the one with the actor who always takes his shirt off? We went last night. I was due a chick flick, but I do like a man with a shirt on. I felt bad for him. Even in the snow, the actor was shirtless. I could’ve killed someone, though.” There it was, she was going to confess.

  Tesha rolled her eyes and her knitting pace increased. “They were sold out of popcorn and they couldn’t make anymore because the guy said the machine was broken. Who does that?” Click. Click. Click. Her knitting needles moved at lightning speed, forming a steady braid of color. A beautiful scarf glanced at me as she twisted the project in her lap.

  “That’s horrible about the popcorn. I’m a Junior Mints kind of girl.” Robyn cleared her throat. “I haven't seen the movie, though. It looks really good. You know I collect movie ticket stubs. Do you have yours from last night, by chance?”

  Leave it to Robyn to come up with something off-the-wall. Who in the world collected movie tickets? Of course, she would get away with. She was Robyn after all.

  Tesha’s husband arrived right then and handed us our tea, with small miniature silver spoons. A full tea service set out on a rolling cart, I was impressed.

  “Thank you, Nelson, dear. Would you mind grabbing our movie stubs from last night, please?” She eyed Robyn with an arched eyebrow and a tilt to the head. “Robyn, I’m glad you’re doing something fun. It’s kind of weird though. Are you going to start writing? I’d love to see what that crazy mind would come up with.” Tesha laughed politely, but she really was curious why Robyn would want the tickets and why she didn’t write when she attended a writers’ group.

  Robyn laughed, completely unperturbed by the question. She knew nothing was wrong with her. She wasn't an author. She was my assistant. No matter how much I tried telling her to write something, she didn’t want to. I’d stopped bugging her to try it. If she really wanted to, she would.

  Nelson returned in less than a minute, little orange and red tickets clutched in his hand.

  Tesha took them from him and handed them to Robyn and I leaned over to look while Tesha explained. “We went to Northside up north. That one is my f
avorite theater and it has riser seats, and it’s not quite as busy as the other places.” She rolled her eyes. “Except for last night. Of course, everyone wanted to see the guy with no shirt.”

  I laughed, and sipped my tea. If she could prove she was in the clear and I had no way to prove I was, what was I going to do in prison?

  Chapter 10

  I leaned my head back against Robyn’s headrest and sighed. “What’s going on? What are we missing? I don't understand how this is so difficult to figure out.” I could admit in my own confused mind that I had cockily assumed we could find the answers. Maybe there was something more to the whole detective thing.

  “Do you really think that Matlock found the whodunit right away? Of course not. We can figure it out, we just have to work for it. This is why we should have turned it over to the cops. Why can't Grant just let it go? We didn’t do it. The truth will set us free.” Robyn calmly drove the car as if we weren't under suspicion for killing someone. Her blasé attitude never failed to surprise me.

  “So easy for you to say as you’re driving in your car, untouched by anything real. I saw the body. I can tell you... if Paul thinks I did it, there’s enough evidence against me. He won’t look at anyone else.” I sighed again. Was there any way to get Paul off me? I snorted. “Maybe I should call Paul now and see if he’s interested in dating.” I turned from the window and dropped my hand. “I'm surprised you're not more upset. You and I are both under investigation. It’s not like it’s just me here.”

  “True. Maybe Paul doesn’t think it’s you. Maybe he’s worried about you.” Robyn grimaced. Even the wind seemed to laugh at her suggestion.

  Looking back out the window, I hunkered deeper into the seat. I didn’t want to be out in the cold. I wanted to be home, cuddled on my couch and writing on the book I was so far behind on. My editor wouldn’t hold my spot. He never did. The man was ruthless. That’s why I loved worked with him so much. He didn’t tolerate much of anything and he spoke in a soft English accent the few times we had spoken on the phone.