Once Upon a Murder

by Kodi Heart

  I hadn’t considered the situation that way. If I was quick to consider Paul, I could’ve jumped to the assumption that Kyle was an idea as well. David’s brother was a known entity to me and I really didn’t want the killer to turn out to be someone I knew and liked. “Are we going to get our guy? Should we call Paul?” As much as I didn’t want to, calling Paul and making sure he got the evidence would solidify taking Robyn and me off the suspect list.

  We pulled into the parking lot before Grant could answer. A seedy dive, Mike’s promised little more than a drink in a dirty glass. I’d only been there once before, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know what the promise was.

  Grant parked the truck and stared at the dark windows and even darker siding. “Not yet. Just because all the signs point toward Kyle, that doesn't mean it's him. We should’ve learned not to jump to conclusions from you.” But there was a lightness to the way he spoke. Both his sister and I would be cleared if Kyle had done it. The relief from that would take an extra layer of tension from my shoulders. Something I would welcome whole-heartedly.

  I pulled open my bag to get my ID and wallet. I had crammed the bubble wrapped glass box into my purse earlier. I forgot to take it out at Robyn’s. I placed the gift carefully on the dash while I rifled through my bag.

  Grant claimed the box in his strong fingers and looked it over. “What are you doing with this?”

  I dug deeper into my bag, where had my wallet gone? I was distracted when I answered him. “Oh, I got it in the mail today. Isn't it beautiful? I think it's ivory. Robyn said I was supposed to ask you what you thought. The gift is so sweet. It must be from one of my readers. They just forgot to put a return address on it.” As well as signed it at all, to let me know who it was from, but I kept the creepiness of the note and the anonymity to myself.

  He turned the box around in his hands, multiple times, studying the piece inside. After another moment, he handed it slowly back to me when I held out my hand. Grant tapped the top of the glass. “Just so you know, that's a metatarsal, not ivory.”

  Lifting the box to see it more clearly in the light spilling from the tavern, I squinted at the beautiful quill inside. “A metatarsal? What are you talking about? Is that some kind of shell or something?” I closed my fingers around my wallet and breathed easier that I’d found it.

  “It's a human finger. You can tell by the shapes of the ends of it, you have more going on than just writing. Seems like you're a hot mess.” Boredom soaked his words.

  I clenched my jaw, gritting my teeth. Why? Why couldn’t I have a normal day or normal night with him? Why did everything have to be lined with veiled comments and meanings? I’d been sent a human finger pen and he calmly talked about it like I’d confused titanium for silver. I tucked the box back into my purse along with the other items I’d removed for my search. Frustrated with him, I threw my hands in the air. “You don’t need to worry about this mess. I've got it under control.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I can't stop worrying about you, Olivia. It's all I do, worry about you. Let's go deal with the rest of this, so we can figure out just how deep in cow piles you are.”

  Grant would drag me under and it wouldn't be because I had killed someone. It would be because we were both falling hard.

  Chapter 12

  Inside Mike's was a lot cleaner than the outside with its rusted piles of metal debris along the wall at the back and its faded paint. A cracked window pane distorted the neon open sign and an advertisement for an old beer I knew for a fact they didn’t make anymore.

  Jukebox music strained from an old record-playing box by the door, bombarding your senses when you walked inside.

  The first time I'd been there I’d been pleasantly surprised by the smells of an Irish stew and homemade rolls. This time, as I walked in with Grant, was no different. Scents of Reuben sandwiches, thick cut French fries, and the sweet tang of cole slaw filled the air.

  I’d just eaten but my stomach still growled. I loved Rubens. “I know we just ate, but maybe we could split some mozzarella sticks later.” I grinned at Grant. He’d know what I was talking about. One thing that was not complicated between the two of us was food. Mozzarella sticks was my way of mending our little spat, if you could even call it that.

  Glancing around the dark interior, I stepped forward, deeper into the shady depths. My gaze landed on Kyle and his hunched over form in the corner booth with its own neon sign on one wall abutting the other wall with a mirror branded with a beer logo. Obviously Idahoans loved their beer.

  I could approach Kyle downtrodden and sad or upbeat and cheery. Neither seemed appropriate. Mad wouldn’t work either. If I was neutral, I would probably come across as cold.

  “There he is. Let me talk first.” I strode confidently toward Kyle. He reminded me of an injured animal, the kind that would not look at you just because they felt threatened. I opted for overly friendly and smiled brightly, which was totally inappropriate for the situation and what we were there to discuss, but I didn't know how else to act around him. “Hi, Kyle, fancy meeting you here.” I wanted to smack myself on the forehead. His brother had just died. I had another guy with me and now, his lovesick days dripped into the air, adding to the tension between us.

  Grant cocked an eyebrow at me and, yes, I think I wanted to die.

  Kyle’s dark eyes darted between Grant and me about as fast as a drunken hummingbird. He blinked and then rubbed an eye with a knuckle. “You’ve already replaced him? Already?” His eyes drooped at the sides and his words slurred together. “My family misses you. My mom misses you. She said I could have you now that he's dead. Would you let me have you? You can be with me and still make them happy. We could do that. We should make each other happy. You don't have to go with this guy, too.”

  I dropped onto the chair across from him. He didn't sound like a guy in love, he sounded like a desperate man. Desperate men killed other people.

  Reaching across the table, I took his hand in mine. We were friends in another life. We both lost someone close to us - even though David had been horrific to me, he had still been important and he was Kyle’s brother. My tone softened and I lost all pretenses at being jovial. “Did you do it? Did you kill David?” I ignored Grant as he claimed a seat beside me and I kept my attention on Kyle, who was having a hard time focusing on one spot.

  Kyle’s eyes snapped to mind and he pulled his fingers from my grasp. “Me? Do you really think it's me? The cop said you and never mentioned me. I was going to give you an alibi, for last night.” He leaned forward. “That’s why I called. Even if you did kill him, that’s okay. I know he was awful to you. He was mean to a lot of people. Tell the cop you were with me.” Red-rimmed eyes seemed to enhance his earnestness.

  I lurched back in my seat. “You were going to give me an alibi? You don't have an alibi. You called him and texted him and then you texted him you were going to be there to pick him up. You did something in that time. Did you give him a ride to my place? His car wasn't there.”

  Did I keep going? I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. “Kyle, you get everything now that he’s dead. You, your kids, and your wife, if you ever marry. Everything. David even had a life insurance policy that you get now. How does this look like I did it when you get so much more than I would?” I tried suppressing my irritation. Denying the fundamental right to be irritated even though he’d just offered me an alibi for something I hadn’t done.

  His shoulders slumped further and he sobbed. “He was my best friend. David knew all my secrets.” Kyle shook his head and wrapped his hands around his pint glass. I had no idea how many drinks he'd had before that one. Bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair suggested he might have been there a lot longer than just a few minutes past the texts.

  Grant leaned forward, rolling his eyes at me before pursuing the questioning his own way. He looked harshly at me as if to warn me to stay quiet. “If you didn't do it, then where were you?”

  Suddenly, his defenses rose and h
e sank into himself. His neck rounded and his head lowered as Kyle mumbled, “Out. I was out.” A long moment dragged out filled with silence and disbelief. Kyle lifted his head and searched the bar – probably for an escape. I didn’t take his alibi and now he probably couldn’t remember why he’d texted me and told me to meet him.

  Grant pulled out his phone, resting it on the table in its own little threatening position, face up and deceptively innocent. As if by magic, his badge appeared beside it. He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers and staring Kyle down – sober eyes boring into inebriated.

  I was intimidated.

  “Let’s pretend for a second that out is an actual place. Let’s pretend for a second that your entire story doesn’t reek of motive. Can you prove your alibi? If not, I’m pretty comfortable calling Detective Davis and telling him we found our guy. I know he's determined to make sure Olivia is the one that goes down for this, but when all signs point toward you, there's no point in calling anyone else.” Grant didn’t look at me. His gaze was trained on Kyle and a slight tic in his jaw line promised Kyle he was at the end of his patience.

  Kyle looked up from his fingers laced together around the cup. He bit his lip. “No.” His hands began to shake and he ran his fingers through his hair one more time. “I wasn't there. I mean I was there. I mean... I'd... I mean, he was meeting you at your place. I dropped him off and then I went... into town.” His bloodshot eyes caught the light and he had taken on the tortured look of a cornered man.

  “He went into town? Where were you?” Why did Kyle think I was meeting him? I most certainly wasn’t. David was the one who was aggressively trying to reconnect with me. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

  Grant eyed me as if to remind me to leave the questioning to him. I had no problem doing that, if he would do it right. I wanted to kick him under the table. Kyle needed direct questions, especially when he was drunk – or fast on his way there. Grant picked up his phone and turned it over and over in his hands, playing a game. The constant maneuvering of the phone wasn’t necessary. We all knew what the phone meant, as it sat beside the badge.

  Kyle shot his gaze around the bar, genuine fear creasing the crow’s feet beside his eyes. He leaned forward, his whisper fierce and he glared at us for making him divulge his secret. “I was at Unicorns, okay? I was at Unicorns. I met someone there.” He pointed a finger at our chests and yelled in a whisper. “And I won’t tell you who.” Then he dropped his hand and scoured the bar for any eavesdroppers while pulling further back into himself, protecting himself from the truth.

  “What?” I blinked. Maybe I was getting drunk off the fumes of his drink and the rest of the bar. Was it possible that alcohol had seeped into the walls? His explanation seemed blurry to me since I couldn’t make it fit with the context of who I knew Kyle as – the biggest teddy-bear I’d ever seen. Why would he go to Unicorns? I glanced at Grant and then again at Kyle. Was stating the obvious dumb? I did it anyway. “But that's a gay bar.”

  Kyle sat there, not taking his eyes off the beer in his hands. Shame cast a shadow over the lower half of his face.

  Nothing was making sense. I rubbed my hands over my face and then furrowed my brow. “Then... why are you always acting like you're interested in me? Because either you’re lying now or you were lying then. I don't understand what's going on.” I couldn't tell if embarrassment or confusion were going to win the battle inside me. I had been so sure that Kyle had a thing for me, and there he was confessing that he didn't even like my type.

  Type being women.

  Being gay wasn’t a new thing, it just wasn’t commonly seen or at least discussed in the woods of North Idaho.

  A horrible thought ripped through me. What if Grant was doing the same thing? What if I was so convinced that Grant had feelings for me and I tortured myself hourly about not asking Robyn when in fact, I was making it out to be a whole lot more than it really was? I watched Grant for a moment from the corner of my eye.

  Was it possible?

  Of course, it was, that’s what made it so awful.

  Red heat rose up Kyle’s face and he held his eyes downcast. “I'm not interested in you. Don't get me wrong, I like you. You've always been a really good friend to me. The only reason...” He sighed and finally met my gaze. “As long as I had a lovesick attachment to you, no one would question why I didn't date anyone. David said it was fine. He liked the fact that everyone thought he’d gotten the girl and I couldn’t. That's why we ran with it. I told you he wasn’t nice to anyone.”

  Grunting, and still manhandling the phone, Grant jerked his head to pull the attention to him. “That's a convenient story. Do you have anyone to corroborate your facts?” Grant’s scathing tone made me wince. He’d put on his detective’s hat. He turned his gaze from me, avoiding my pointed look that I tried giving him.

  Pointed looks became worthless when the only person who knew about them were the ones giving them.

  “I know I have some receipts for the drinks there. I swear I didn't buy any drugs.” He glanced at Grant as he dug into his pockets. “I know it's here somewhere.” He pulled out a crumpled mass of papers and dug through the garbage. He had four different colored receipts and a parking ticket. He pushed all across the distressed table surface to Grant. “These are all from last night. I played pool, which is the green one. I paid for some karaoke songs, which is the pink one. And I had some drinks, which is the orange and yellow ones. That one is glittery because I bought some drinks for some other guys.”

  “Everyone has receipts, that helps, I guess.” He ignored me. I didn’t have any receipts and that stung. I was the only one without a solid alibi and Grant knew it.

  Grant straightened out each receipt and studied each of the small tabs as if he could solve all of the world’s problems. He took so long even I started to squirm in my seat. Stacking them carefully, Grant finally handed the receipts to Kyle. He tapped the top one, a resolute expression on his face. “Keep a handle on those. If this gets out, and a murderer isn’t caught, they’ll turn their suspicions back on to you. As long as you keep those, your alibi will hold up. If they’re on heat paper, you won’t want to keep them in your wallet.”

  Kyle nodded, swallowing and adopting a more sober expression than his nearly empty pint glass attested to.

  Standing, Grant cued me to follow suit.

  I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with the whole situation. It went without saying that I wouldn’t say anything, but did Kyle know that? Judging by his solemn depressed slouch and the heavy sighing, he was too far into his grief to care or at least remember.

  Reaching out, I patted his shoulder as we passed, frowning at Grant’s back. I was upset because I wished I could have had a better relationship with Kyle. I should’ve known about his lifestyle. If I’d focused on why he was acting the way he was instead of how uncomfortable it made me feel, I wouldn’t be finding out after my ex’s death and only because I needed to know who had killed him.

  David's secrets piled up around him. Who could hate him enough they would kill him on my porch?

  Or better yet, who hated me enough they would kill him on my porch?

  Of course, I didn’t get my mozzarella sticks which just made me more upset.

  Chapter 13

  I’d been at Robyn’s house five days, encroaching on her hospitality. Most of the time had passed with me avoiding my laptop and wishing I could go home. Checking my phone every few minutes didn’t help as I hoped Grant would text me he’d found something out.

  Finding the killer was going to be harder than I thought.

  Robyn wasn’t home and I sat at the counter with my laptop open, staring at the document. I only needed fifteen-thousand-seven-hundred more words. That wasn’t too bad, considering I wasn’t home and nothing was right in the world.

  My deadline might have to be pushed. I only had about a week left and while I could write fast I was getting sick of writing on Robyn’s couch or in her kitchen. I missed my office
.

  The last couple days Robyn hadn't been at her house, opting instead to stay at Ryan's. I think the separate homes thing might be the main reason they did the on-again-off-again thing. This way they could keep their own places and maintain a semblance of privacy when they got sick of each other.

  All the lights were off in her place since it was the middle of the afternoon. I closed my laptop to let it cool off – staring at it for an hour would heat it up, poor thing. Turning on the stool, I slid down and ambled back to the bathroom. Washing my hands, I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I didn’t need to see what I looked like to know I would be getting cleaned up before the writing group later that evening.

  Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound carried to me from the front door.

  My eyes grew wide and I stiffened, turning off the water. What if the killer had come to get me? I blinked hard and shook my head. The computer screen was making me stupid. As far as I knew, killers weren’t notorious for knocking and bringing flowers when they came to kill their victims.

  Something about the way the knock sounded though had me breathing shallowly. It wasn’t right, like something metal had been tapped on the double-pane of Robyn’s windows. With all of her windows, whoever was out there would be able to see in the front of her house.

  I peeked around the edge of the door, hidden by the shadows of the hallway.

  Paul Davis’s face stared back at me, except he couldn’t see me. Unless he continued searching a room after he already found what he was looking for. My heart thudded in my chest and I closed my eyes, ducking back into the bathroom.

  What was I supposed to do? My phone was still on the counter beside the laptop which, thankfully, I’d been forced to shut off. Grant had just warned Robyn and me to lay low. He’d told Paul Robyn and I had gone out of town after the horrific find and he was staying at her house because of something being done to his place.