Blue Baby

by Arnold, Carolyn

  Paige shook her head. “We’ve got to stop him, Jack.”

  “Let’s think this through. We’ve approached the likely suspects. We’ve looked at businesses involved with the wedding industry, such as caterers and florists. Nadia looked into gown boutiques.”

  “What are we missing?” Everyone looked at me, and I realized how rhetorical the question was.

  “We have to think. What else is involved with making a wedding go off without a hitch?” Jack asked the question, his gaze was on Paige.

  She smiled. “Why are you looking at me? I have no experience in the area.”

  There was the hint of amusement on Jack’s lips. “But you’re a woman. I’m interested in hearing your thoughts.”

  “All right. Let me think. Closer to the wedding date itself a bride needs to have a hair stylist.” She paused, her eyes hardened in concentration. “She’d need a makeup artist.”

  “What about photographers?” The thought struck, and the words had just blurted out.

  “That’s a good one, too, Pending,” Zach said. “From the charcoal found at Penny’s we figured the killer for an artist. Snapping off shots from behind a lens wouldn’t be a far stretch.”

  “No.” I shook my head, realizing the error in my own theory.

  “No?” Jack asked.

  “No, he can’t be a photographer. If he were, why take the time to draw at the murder scene? He’d capture it in a photograph, and then if he wanted to, he’d draw it from the picture.”

  Zach smiled at me. “Good point.”

  I glanced at Paige. “I like your idea about a makeup artist.”

  “The only issue is,” she said, “none of these women got close enough to an actual wedding date to book one.”

  Between her words and her eye contact, I had it. “All these women were boy-crazy. They dressed fashionably and took care of themselves.” My mind drifted to fitness centers, but I released the thought. “What if they took a course in how to apply cosmetics? He could be a teacher. We know he’s good at making up his victims—the eye shadow, the lipstick.”

  “You could be on to something.” Paige gripped my shoulder, and I smiled at her.

  Jack’s cell phone was already on speaker and ringing. Nadia answered.

  “Do you have the financial records on Penny Griffin yet?” Jack asked.

  “They came in overnight. I haven’t had a—”

  “Any connections between the three women?”

  “Well, I already compared Cheryl’s and Tara’s. There were no similarities in their financials—credit cards or bank accounts.”

  “Bring up Penny’s,” Jack directed.

  Keys clicked. “All right, what am I looking for?”

  “See if any names stand out to you as beauty schools.”

  “Sure.”

  I detected it in her voice. Nadia followed through because Jack asked, not because she understood.

  “Oh.”

  “Nadia, talk to us.”

  “There is a link between Tara and Penny. A business by the name of La Bella. Hang on.”

  The four of us waited on Nadia. About thirty seconds later, she said, “Cheryl has a record of a Luxurious Skincare. It is the closest thing to the name of a beauty school I’m seeing.” More clicks on the keyboard. “It is a beauty school, all right. They changed their name to La Bella the end of last year. All the women were charged at different times…”

  Adrenaline rushed in my veins like tiny lightning bolts, thousands of them, spiking through my system.

  “Send those dates to my phone and get a warrant for the names of all the employees at this beauty school. I want it on my phone by the time I get there. We can backtrack and see who taught the classes to the three victims.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Jack was clipping his phone to its holder and practically running for the door. “You guys coming?”

  -

  Chapter 56

  TWO DAYS HAD PASSED, and he continued to relive the moment when Penny woke up. He had been foolish to act on impulse. The sight of her seated at the bar with those leeches around her was enough to force him into action. He didn’t anticipate the need to use the gown and ring. In fact, the regret and anger were becoming unbearable.

  He had called into work again. He couldn’t face the stares from his coworkers, the condemnation in their eyes—it was there, even if he misinterpreted their glances. It’s not like they knew anything about what he’d done or his purpose in life. But he had failed Penny, and it was bringing him great pain.

  He assumed he had observed her enough, spoke to her enough, and listened to her enough. But he was wrong.

  Penny had died in shock, in a state of panic and unhappiness. It was all wrong from the start, but he’d been powerless to stop the urge.

  She’d been drinking with those baboons. Slinging back shots as if there were no tomorrow. She hadn’t realized that, for her, there wouldn’t be one. For that, he accepted the responsibility. He attempted to soothe his conscience with the adage, It’s the thought that counts. He had wanted to bring her happiness and light; instead, she received condemnation. Nothing could bring her back. He wasn’t sure anything could right what he had done.

  Redemption may only be found in doing it again. But he’d change things up. As it was, he didn’t have any jewelry to pass along. And did the dress and ring matter anymore?

  As he focused on the situation, the blame shifted. He felt the weight of it lift from his shoulders. There was one person responsible for Penny’s fate, and that was Penny herself.

  She had acted like the others—flighty, self-absorbed, and unaffected by anything going on in the world around her. Her concerns had been primal and rooted in ego. Her life had been all about men, pleasing them and being pleased in return. But instead of treasuring what she’d been given, she’d squandered her options, she’d diminished them into nothingness. She’d bad-mouthed every affair she had, making every failure the man’s fault. They hadn’t listened. They hadn’t cared. For all these reasons and more, she’d moved from one relationship to the next. The fact that the relationships ended had never been her decision. She’d failed to realize she was a tigress stalking men as prey.

  Fists formed at his sides. He sat in front of his sketch pad, her face replicated on numerous sheets that were scattered on the surface of his worktable.

  How could he expect perfection when everything from the point of execution was marred? A failure from beginning to end.

  And now he had nothing left of his loved one. Her dress was wasted. Her ring gone. For this, he may never forgive himself, but maybe the voices of condemnation in his head would be silenced if he made it all better somehow. If he found someone he could help, someone who was truly hurting, and healed her.

  He knew just the right woman…

  -

  Chapter 57

  THE FOUR OF US TRAVELED in one of the rental cars to La Bella. The warrant had come through to Jack’s phone, and a copy would be faxed directly to the beauty school. The manager’s name was Joanna Evans, and talking with her was first on our agenda. We’d called Detective Powers and Barber on our way and requested they remain on standby. We had yet to know for certain what we were walking into. All we had was a solid connection between the three victims.

  The business was housed in a two-story commercial complex and was on the second floor. Jack and I approached the front desk while Paige and Zach stood back.

  Jack took the lead. He showed his creds to a woman who may have reached her nineteenth birthday last week. She was crammed into a tight dress, and her breasts were full and well supported—the diplomatic way of describing what the underwire and padding were doing to her chest. I found it ironic how women who dressed like this were the first to complain about being gawked at by men.
Putting the goods on display made it hard not to look. The eye is naturally drawn—

  “We need to speak with Joanna Evans. It’s urgent,” Jack said. His tone and demand snapped me out of my daze.

  The receptionist stood, smoothing out the front of her dress as she did so. She walked away from us and I got a look at her—

  “Would you get your mind back on business?” Jack said, voice pitched low.

  I sensed his eyes on me and turned to him. “It is.”

  “Are you sure it’s not on her—”

  “I was noticing her shoes.” They had a good four-inch heel.

  “Hmm.”

  She returned with an older woman in tow. Her skin was smooth given the age in her eyes. I’d peg her as late fifties. She was dressed in a charcoal skirt suit draped tightly to her form. She’d make an enemy for most other women her age.

  “I’m Joanna Evans. What is this about?” Her blue eyes skipped over Jack and me and took in Paige and Zach.

  “We need you to give us a list of teachers, or the one teacher, who would have taught these three women on these dates.” Jack went on to provide the full names for Cheryl, Tara, and Penny and the dates their cards were charged.

  “I don’t understand. Why?” Joanna laced her arms across her chest, commencing the peacock show.

  “It doesn’t matter. We have a warrant.” Jack pressed a couple of buttons on his phone. “Here’s a copy of it.”

  “I won’t do anything based on a copy you show me on your phone.”

  “A copy of this will be coming to your—”

  I heard the screeching beep associated with a fax machine. Talk about perfect timing.

  The younger woman walked away and came back holding a sheet of paper. She handed it to Joanna.

  Joanna’s eyes traced down the page. “Fine, then. Give those names and dates to Krystal, and she’ll get to it this afternoon.”

  “Not acceptable. She’ll get to it right now while we wait.”

  One lined eyebrow cocked.

  “You’re holding the warrant in your hands. If you don’t cooperate fully—and immediately—we’ll take that as an obstruction of justice.”

  Her tongue rolled around in her mouth. The tip of it caused her cheek to bulge out for a second. “Fine.” She handed the sheet to Krystal. “Help them right away.”

  Krystal took the page, her expression sour. From the look of her desk, I could guess the reason. The mountains of paperwork made Everest seem less impressive. How did a beauty school generate such a volume of administrative work?

  The names and dates would be detailed on the warrant, but Jack repeated them for her and she wrote them down on a lined notepad. Her writing had a strong left angle to it, and its legibility could rival that of most doctor notes.

  Jack and I stepped back to join Paige and Zach. Now we just had to wait. But the air was electric. We were getting closer to stopping this killer. It was almost tangible.

  About ten minutes later, we had two names. One teacher taught two of the three classes, and he was a man. Jack was quickly on the phone with Nadia, but he didn’t have her on speaker. “Run this name through the database and see if anything fires back.”

  Less than a minute later, our lead was dashed. I had known the answer before Jack verbalized it.

  “He doesn’t fit the profile.” His hand formed a fist around his cell phone, and he jabbed it downward. “What are we missing?”

  Zach paced a few feet, turned, and came back to us. “This might seem out there, although the beauty angle did a bit in the beginning, too, but we’ve pegged our killer as male and a man was seen leaving the bar with Penny. We believe he is homosexual. We know he applied the makeup. What if he—”

  “We need to look at the students,” I said.

  Zach nodded.

  “It’s worth a shot, boss,” Paige agreed.

  I continued. “Think about it. Like Zach said, this guy knows how to apply makeup. He doesn’t need to be the teacher to do that.”

  “He was a student,” Paige summarized with conviction. But her enthusiasm bowed out. “We don’t have a warrant for the student lists.”

  “We’ll get one.” Jack had his phone to his ear again, directing Nadia what to do. He hung up. “That’s going to take a bit of time to come back, but I want us to stay put.” He gestured to the stiff-looking chairs dispersed around the lobby area. “Get comfortable.”

  -

  Chapter 58

  IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON. Not his usual time. But maybe that’s what Penny had given him: she’d lifted the imposed bonds holding him prisoner. He was no longer being restrained by them. Maybe by changing the way he did things he’d have a greater opportunity to share his gift. Of course, he’d continue to help those who were heartbroken and in search of happiness. But it wasn’t necessary for this to be done under the cover of night. After all, he’d lost his loved one in the late afternoon. Yes, maybe instead of it all going wrong with Penny, she had served to adjust him. To enlighten him. To bring him a greater purpose.

  He closed his eyes and searched inward. He saw her face—not his loved one’s but another woman’s, a woman who needed saving.

  Chantal Oaks.

  She was in search of the one to settle down with. She had shared pictures with him from her vision board. Before her, he had never heard of such a thing. But apparently it was a place to keep intentions and dreams, to collect images of wants and desires. She had this in electronic form, stored on her phone. He had listened as she droned on about her expectations for her future wedding. He’d waited as she went from one photograph to the next. He’d smiled as she shared her dreams.

  The next week he’d witnessed her heartbreak.

  She had shared all her personal dreams with him, even told him the man’s name, Drake. She didn’t share his last name, but that wasn’t important. His issue was never with the men. It was about realigning these women with undiluted happiness.

  But as it had turned out, Drake had broken her heart. Chantal disguised her pain behind anger. She was the worst-case scenario, the one who was in denial.

  She’d told him all that had happened, how the relationship had come to “an untimely end”—her words, not his—as she was shuffling through the vision board, deleting all the images she’d been so proud of the week before.

  It had been at least two weeks since he last saw her, but it was time to be reunited. And he knew where to find her. If he hurried, he’d be there right on time.

  -

  Chapter 59

  I KEPT CATCHING THE RECEPTIONIST’S EYE, and her expression disclosed irritation, as if she thought I was checking her out. But it was simply a matter of bad timing, nothing more.

  Paige’s cell phone rang. She consulted the caller ID. “Agent Dawson.”

  That’s how she answered—formally—but there was a spark in her eyes. It was Detective Barber.

  Their conversation was brief, and she hung up. She spoke slightly above a whisper. “The results came back on the earrings found on Cheryl and the ring Penny wore. Epithelial on both items matched the second blood type on the dress Penny was wearing.”

  “So, it’s likely they all belonged to the same woman, to our unsub’s loved one,” I said, matching her volume. Again, I caught Krystal’s gaze. This time she shook her head, and I let out an exasperated breath. “Do you think this means he’s going to stop?”

  “No. It’s possible he’s going to be spurred on to act again shortly,” Zach said. He looked over at Jack. “I wonder how Nadia’s coming along the other warrant.”

  Jack pulled out his cell, and it rang before he could dial. “It’s Nadia.” He answered. Again, based on where we were, the rest of us had to wait for the conversation to end to find out what she’d said. In our favor was the fact that the beauty school di
dn’t have much foot traffic throughout the day. For the amount of time we had been there—I looked at the clock. It’d been about an hour—only one person had come in.

  Jack headed toward Krystal, the phone to his ear. “Fax it over, Nadia.”

  On cue, the fax came to life again, its high-pitched squeal notifying us of another incoming warrant.

  Jack hung up his cell and clipped it back to its holder with one hand. The other pointed in the direction of the machine. “That will be for us.”

  Krystal rolled her eyes. She was the first person I remember coming across who’d ever showed such disrespect to Jack’s face. The man could intimidate a lion, yet he had no effect on this woman.

  Krystal didn’t peruse the paper but tossed it onto the counter. “What do you need?”

  “Good attitude.” He dismissed her sarcasm by countering back. “We need the names and addresses of students who were registered in the same classes as the three women we gave you the names for earlier.”

  “Okay. It will take a second.”

  A second? Impressive. She’d taken her sweet time to get two teacher’s names and three classes of students would take a second. She must’ve really wanted to get rid of us.

  She typed faster than I would have thought possible for the length of her fingernails. The printer beside her kicked out some paper. A few additional keystrokes and another sheet fired out. Then a third.

  “Here you go.” She extended the pages. With Jack about to take them from her, she let them drop to the counter.

  “Actually, I need you to e-mail them, too,” Jack said.

  I wasn’t sure why he was being like this when we could take pictures and send the documents to Nadia ourselves.