The Prune Pit Murder

by Renee George

  Smooth, I thought. A couple weeks in a place full of therianthropic shifters had probably made her less guarded about her knowledge. She’d have to readjust her thinking if she was going to keep our secret. Though I supposed it was now her and Parker’s secret, as well. They had a lot to lose if the wrong people found out, just like me and my uncle.

  “Did you guys move anything around in the rooms before you took these pictures?” I asked. There were numbers next to all the items in the apartment, maybe that’s what made them feel off to me, but I didn’t think that was it. Something was missing. Something that Pearl and I hadn’t taken. Which meant it was removed between Saturday night and this morning.

  “No. We didn’t start our deep search until everything had been catalogued and photographed. Why?”

  “I’m not sure, yet.” A lot had happened in the past couple of days, so it was going to have to compare them against the pictures I took to know for sure.

  Before I could grab my town, Reggie said, “I got the tox reports back this evening."

  “Way to bury the lead!” Nadine said. “How come you didn’t tell me when you picked me up?”

  “I wanted to wait until after we picked up Lily. That way I wouldn’t have to tell it twice.”

  Nadine stuck her tongue out.

  Reggie laughed and gave her a chuck under the chin, and Nadine retracted the appendage.

  “Good way to lose a body part,” Reggie said. “I used to do that to CeCe when she was little.” She sighed wistfully.

  “And we want to hear all about how cute your baby was, and all the joys that came with being her mother, but first, lab results,” Nadine said.

  Every word of the statement had been honest. Nadine wanted to talk about kids with Reggie.

  This week’s puzzle just added a layer.

  “She tested positive for fentanyl,” Reggie said.

  “Isn’t that the opioid that’s killing everyone?” Nadine asked.

  “It’s been responsible for a lot of deaths, but usually because it’s mixed with other drugs or illegal substances. Like fentanyl-laced heroin. That’s become more popular. I had a colleague at the seminar tell me about two deaths in the past month in Jefferson City related to the lethal mix.”

  “Did she test positive for heroin?” I asked. “And what about the oxycodone they’d found on her nightstand?”

  “No to the heroin or to oxy,” Reggie said. “And really, the level of fentanyl in her system wasn’t enough to do more than get her a high.” She twisted in her seat to look back at me. “I sent off a hair sample for further examination.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t believe Abby was a chronic drug user. And if her hair sample doesn’t show any drugs in the screen, it will mean the fentanyl was a new thing for her. There’s no way, as a nurse, she’d choose fentanyl as her introduction to hard drugs. I just can’t see it. Besides, there were none of the telltale signs of drug use. Except for some benign cysts on her ovaries, she was just too healthy. Liver, heart, pancreas, kidney. Heck, even her gallbladder was pristine. Her stomach lining was thick and pink, her intestines had no ulcerations, nothing abnormal, and her brain showed no trauma, tumors, or bleeding.”

  “Then what caused her death?”

  “I wish I knew.” Reggie slumped in the seat. “It’s confounding. Like getting to the end of a mystery and the last few pages with the reveal are written in a foreign language.”

  “I know the feeling.” Something Reggie said triggered my memory. I flipped through Nadine’s photos once more, stopping on one that was of the reading nook in her bedroom. “Speaking of books,” I said. “I know what’s wrong with this picture.”

  There had been a book on the stand next to the chair about historical murders, and now it was gone. “Have either of you heard of Kenneth…” What had that last name been again? “Burrough, or something like that?”

  “Does he live in Moonrise?” Nadine asked.

  “No. Abby had a book about murder bookmarked on her table in her bedroom. It’s not in any of these pictures. The chapter she was reading was on a guy named Kenneth Burrough, although the last name isn’t quite right.”

  “What did this Kenneth guy do to get a whole chapter?” Reggie asked.

  “I wish I knew. I didn’t think it was important. Heck, it still might not be, but I didn’t take it, and you said you all didn’t move anything before the pictures, so…”

  “So, it could be a clue,” Nadine agreed. She turned into the Sunset Apartment Complex. “Let’s put a pin in it for a second. I’m sure it will come to me as soon as I stop trying to think of the name. Let’s go see a girl about some gossip.”

  “I’ve got the wine chiller,” Reggie said. “A merlot guaranteed to loosen the lips.” She patted a thermal-insulated bag that was shaped like a bottle of wine.

  “Cute,” I said. “Where’s the beer?” My lips were as loose as I wanted them.

  “In the trunk,” Nadine said. “I’ll grab it out of the cooler.”

  While Reggie and I waited for Nadine to get the beer, I had the strangest sensation of being watched. I scanned the parking area lit up by streetlamps for any lurkers. I didn’t see anyone. I kept my back to Reggie and allowed some of my cougar to slip into my eyes, giving my night vision a boost as I studied the area again.

  Then I saw it. There was a dark-blue four-door sedan parked across the street from the complex—and in the driver’s seat, Opal Dixon was watching us with a pair of binoculars.

  She must have lit on my eyes, because she dropped the binoculars, her expression one of surprise. I put away my second nature so when she finally dug them back out of her lap and looked my way again, instead of green, glowing eyes, she’d just see me. If she asked, I’d tell her it was a trick of the light.

  I waved at her, and she knew she’d been caught. “Opal is here,” I announced.

  “Where?” Nadine turned in a circle.

  “Just across the street.” I pointed at her car.

  “Why is she sitting in her car?” Reggie asked.

  “I’d imagine because she has a broken leg.”

  “Smart alec,” Nadine said. “I mean, why is she here.”

  “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that Pearl is back in Abby’s apartment. She does have a key.”

  “Cripes.” Nadine jogged to the door. “It might not have been a crime scene two days ago, but it is now.”

  Reggie and I entered the building and looked down the hall. Sure enough, there was crime scene tape on the floor in front of Abby’s apartment.

  “I’m going to arrest her,” Nadine said.

  “With a six pack of beer in your hands?” I shook my head. “Let’s find out what they’re doing here first.” Opal and Pearl knew Abby better than most. “Maybe they’ve thought of something that might help us.”

  “Or they’re burning the porn stash,” Nadine said metaphorically.

  “And wiping the hard drive,” I added.

  Reggie frowned. “I’m going to punch you both if you don’t start including me in your conversations.”

  Yikes. Had we been doing that? It was easier to talk to Nadine since she knew the truth, but I never meant for Reggie to feel left out. I draped my arm across her shoulder. “If you die, we promise to destroy any material that might make you look less than the awesome-sauce you are.” I crossed my heart. Nadine did the same and added some scout salute.

  “It’s a best friends pact,” she said.

  Reggie smiled. “Okay, I get it. Porn stash, search history.” In a quieter voice, she said, “I have a locked box under my bed. Don’t open it. Just get rid of it so that CeCe never has to see.”

  Nadine rubbed her hands together. “Oooo. Reggie has sex toys. Now I know why Greer popped the question. You’re a wild one.”

  Reggie laughed hard.

  “Stop,” I told them both. Reggie might be one of my best friends, but Greer was like a second father to me, and no one wanted to think about a paren
t in compromising positions. “I don’t need that image in my head.”

  The door opposite Abby’s opened, and a large woman with gray hair and wearing a panda-bear-laden robe stepped out into the hall. “You’re not the cops,” she said with disappointment.

  Before she could duck back in, Nadine handed me the beer and said, “I’m Deputy Booth of the Moonrise Sheriff’s Department, ma’am. Did you need help?”

  Since Nadine was wearing tight blue jeans, cowgirl boots, and a lavender T-shirt, the woman gave her a skeptical scowl. “I’ll wait for the real cops, sweetie.”

  Nadine pulled her wallet out of her purse and flashed her badge. “I am a real cop, sweetie,” she replied.

  “Fine,” the woman huffed. “I reported a break-in at my neighbor’s. People going in and out at all hours.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and took a closer look at Nadine. “Yes. You were here today with those other police. I recognize you now.” She peered at me. “And you were here the other night with the old bitty who broke in tonight.”

  “She has a key,” Reggie and I said at the same time. We exchanged sly smiles.

  “She tore down that tape the cops had put up there today, so as far as I’m concerned it means you can’t go in there.” She glowered at Nadine. “Or am I wrong?”

  Nadine said, “You’re not wrong.”

  “How do you know when someone is coming and going over there?” I asked.

  The woman pointed to her doorbell; the fancy one I’d noticed Saturday night. “It has a motion detector and a camera. When someone walks in front of it, it makes sounds in my house and I can look at the monitor in my living room to see who it is.”

  I think Nadine’s mouth hung as wide as my own. “Ma’am, this information would have been pertinent to our police investigation. Why didn’t you come forward before now?”

  “Because it was a suicide three days ago. At least that’s what that one young deputy told me.”

  “Shobe,” I said.

  “That’s his name,” the lady said. “Didn’t seem like what I had to say was of any interest for him.”

  “What’s your name?” Nadine asked.

  “Belinda Mitchell,” she said.

  “Ms. Mitchell, do you happen to save the video you record from your doorbell?”

  “Why, yes, Deputy Booth, I do. Or at least the machine does. For two weeks.”

  The front entrance opened, and Deputy Larry Shobe, in full uniform, walked in. The look on Nadine’s face when she saw him made me glad I wasn’t him.

  “Deputy Booth,” he said, his expression confused. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m doing your damn job, Shobe. That’s what I’m doing here.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped down hard. “I don’t understand.”

  Nadine nodded. “That’s becoming clearer every day.” She walked over to Abby’s door and pounded on it. “Pearl, get your blue-headed self out here now.”

  A few seconds passed, then the door opened, and Pearl stepped out, a sheepish look on her face. “Well, hey, girls,” she said genially. “I just came by to pick up more cat food for Audrey. She held up a small can of Salmon Supper for cats.

  “Go home, Pearl. Now.” Nadine pointed to the doors, obviously not buying it. “I’ll be by tomorrow for a chat with you and your sister, and you will both tell me everything you know about Abigail Rogers.”

  To Larry Shobe, she said, “Follow Ms. Mitchell into her house. Take a complete statement, then bag the memory card in her monitor as evidence. And I swear if you so much as do any damage to it, the only cases you will touch from now on will involve illegally parked vehicles, do you get me?”

  “Yes, Deputy Booth,” he said. He hurriedly followed Belinda Mitchell into her apartment.

  “Dang, girl. That was totally boss,” Reggie said. “I almost peed my pants.”

  “Me too,” I giggled.

  Nadine shook her head. She smiled, but the frown lines were still deep between her eyes. “This case has been mishandled since the beginning. I’m kicking myself for not knocking on every neighbor’s door today. You two go on up to Lacy’s while I take care of this. We’ll put our heads together tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “It’s a plan.”

  Reggie and I were headed to the stairs when Pearl came jogging through the front doors, her face red and beaded with sweat, and her whole body shaking.

  “Opal!” she cried out. “Someone took my sister.”

  Chapter 15

  “Are you certain she didn’t just drive off?” Nadine asked Pearl for the dozenth time. The hallway had filled up with residents who had heard the commotion in the hall and now wanted a front-row seat to a kidnapping event.

  “I’m positive,” Pearl said. “I may be old, but I’m not blind. I saw someone get in the passenger side. Opal looked at me before she drove off. She was scared.” Pearl wrung her hands until they were cherry red. “The person was in the shadows though, so I can’t tell you what they looked like. Why aren’t you out there looking for her?”

  “We’ve got every available officer patrolling the streets, and we have an APB out on her car. I promise you, Pearl, we are doing everything we can to bring Opal back to you.”

  “Deputy Booth,” Shobe said, interrupting us. “Sheriff’s on the radio for you.”

  Nadine gave him an annoyed look but took his walkie-talkie. “I’ll be right back.” She stepped down the hall, away from the noise.

  Pearl’s eyes lit on a memory. “He might have been wearing a hoodie.”

  “He?” I took her hands so she wouldn’t rub holes in her skin. “What made you think it was a man?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. It could have been a woman. It’s just that when I think of violence, I automatically think man.”

  I nodded. Her ex-husband had abused her, and her perspective was filtered by her experiences. “Do you know how much higher the person’s head was above the car?” That was an easier question to answer than, how tall? Height, without a measuring stick or a point of reference, was a hard thing to gauge at a distance.

  She held her hands about a foot and a half. “Thereabouts,” she indicated. “But the guy could have been stooped, so he could have been even taller than that. I feel about as useless as a hair on a guppy.”

  Pearl was on the verge of weeping, and I can’t say as I blamed her, but it wouldn’t help get Opal back. “Opal wouldn’t want you feeling sorry for yourself,” I said firmly but with as much love as I could put into the harsh words. “We need to focus all our efforts on getting her back, not on the stuff we can’t do anything about. You are strong, Pearl. Much stronger than I ever thought, and you can hold it together until we get this situation settled.”

  “But what if she doesn’t--”

  “What ifs are nothing but your fear talking in your ear. You need to push it aside so we can find solutions for the real problems we’re already facing, and not the ones our fears manufacture in our imagination. That’s the only way we’re going to help, Opal.”

  Pearl took a deep breath then blew it out noisily. “I know you’re right, Lily. I’m just not ready to face a life without my sister in it.”

  I clasped her shoulder and gave it squeeze. “Then we need to make sure we find her.” A good place to start was Abby’s apartment. “Why did you come back here?”

  “Opal insisted. She’s so headstrong. She told me Abby kept a diary using a code they’d made up when Abby was a girl. They used to write letters to each other using it. Then when Abby got older, she’d confided to Opal that she still used the code to keep her private thoughts private. Opal had wanted me to find the diary.”

  “Did she think Abby might have written something that could point us in the right direction of who killed her?”

  Pearl shrugged, her thin shoulders looking bonier and her eyes puffy as fatigue set in. “Possibly, but I think she was more worried Melinda would find it. Abby had a bit of a wild streak. There would be things in there she
wouldn’t want her mother to find out. Melinda had helped Abby with the code when she was young, so it wouldn’t have taken much for her to figure it out.”

  It really had been a burn-the-porn-stash-and-wipe-the-search-history scenario. “While I respect having a friend’s back, even in death, you should have told the police, or at least me. I would have made sure nothing of Abby’s private thoughts were made public unless it had to do with her death.”

  “I know, but you know Opal. I can’t talk her out of a darn thing when she gets her mind set to a course of action.”

  “I know. Did you manage to find the journal?”

  Pearl gave me a flat stare.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  She lifted her blouse and pulled a leather-bound, five-by-eight notebook from the elastic waistband of her pants. She handed it over but didn’t let go. “The police see nothing unless you find something that can point to who kidnapped Opal or Abby’s killer, agreed?”

  I nodded. “Agreed.”

  Deputy Shobe walked over to us, and I slipped the journal into my bag before he could see it. “Ms. Dixon, I’m going to take you down to the station now. We’ve set up a family room for you, and we’ll keep you updated as we find out anything new.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked Pearl.

  “I want you looking for my sister.” She hugged me, the gesture making Shobe back a few feet away to give us space as if he were afraid she'd hug him next. In my ear, she said, “Replace every letter with the seventh letter ahead of it in the alphabet chain. A is H, Y is F, and so on.”

  “I understand,” I said. We parted. It hurt how lost Pearl looked as Deputy Shobe escorted her from the building, and I couldn’t bear the idea that she was going to have to endure the night alone. So, I called Parker.

  He answered on the first ring. “What’s up, buttercup?”

  I fought the urge to cry. As I’d told Pearl, it wouldn’t do Opal any good. “Opal Dixon is missing. She might have been taken.”