by Cindy Bell
“Sounds like you’ve had an emotional couple of days,” Delaney said casually as he strolled into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get a glass of water?” he asked as his gaze swept over the sink.
“Go ahead,” Wendy said grimly. “Yes, it has been hard, but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with Camilla's death!”
“No one said it did, yet,” Polson said from just beside her. “So, when you saw her the day after she fired you and the two of you fought over clients, was that just you being a little upset, too?” he asked and Wendy thought she could sense some sarcasm in his tone.
“They were my clients that I had a meeting with,” Wendy pointed out. She attempted to remain calm, but there was panic creeping into her voice. She didn't like to be accused of things. “They were referred by a mutual friend and they would never have used Camilla’s company if I wasn’t working there. They wanted me to plan their wedding and when I showed up Camilla was telling them that they couldn't work with me anymore. Yes, we had words, and yes, I was upset.”
“You even threatened her, isn't that right?” Polson asked with a slight smirk.
“No! I…” Wendy's voice suddenly cut off as she recalled what she had said. “Well, I said some things because I was angry, but I would never hurt her!”
“Sure,” Polson nodded and made a note. “So, after losing your job, threatening Camilla, and your boyfriend moving out, I bet you were feeling pretty low,” he suggested in an understanding tone.
“I was,” Wendy admitted in a whisper, as her mind was growing numb.
“Did you maybe drink a little, use some illegal drugs?” he suggested in a conspiratorial tone. “I mean all of that happening at once was probably a little much to handle.”
“What?” Wendy shook her head sharply. “No! I don't drink much and I don't take any kind of drugs.”
“Looks like you did some crafting,” Delaney said as he picked up the waste basket in the kitchen and showed the contents to Polson.
“Oh, that…” Wendy stammered, her lips growing numb with shock as Delaney pointed out the cut up pictures of Camilla.
“I think we're going to need a warrant,” Delaney said calmly. “Ms. Reed, I'd like you to come down to the station to discuss this further.”
Wendy stared at him, her stomach lurching. She realized that the evidence was piling up against her. She was going to need a lawyer. She was going to need real pants!
“Can I get dressed first?” she asked hopefully as she looked between the two officers.
“Fine,” Polson nodded. “But make it quick, please.”
Wendy ducked back into her room and changed quickly. She was sure that once they got down to the station they would be able to straighten all of this out. It had to be a mistake for them to look into her, she hadn't been arrested for anything before let alone murder. Just then it struck her that Camilla was really dead. As angry as she had been at the woman the day before, she couldn't imagine someone hurting her. Who could have done such a thing?
***
The ride to the police station was mortifying. Wendy slumped down low in the back seat of the police car. She was grateful that they hadn't handcuffed her, and they had insisted that she was just going to the precinct for questioning. But she was still terrified. She kept going over and over in her mind the things that she had done in the past few days. The fights with Camilla, the cut up pictures, all added up to look like the wild behavior of someone who might be mentally unstable. She of course knew she wasn't, but would the police accept that?
When they reached the station the two officers led her to an interrogation room. Wendy closed her eyes as they shut the door and left her alone for a few moments. She was trying to get herself under control as she knew that her panic and fear might make her look even more guilty. The clock on the wall was ticking loudly. When she walked into the room she had noticed that it was behind bars, just like she would be, if she said or did the wrong thing.
“I'm innocent,” she said softly to herself in an attempt to focus more clearly on that instead of her panic over being escorted by police officers.
“Who are you trying to convince, me or you?” Officer Polson asked as he sat down across from her. With her eyes closed Wendy hadn't even noticed that he came back into the room. She met his eyes, and noticed they were a deep shade of blue, like the sky on a warm summer day. They could have been kind if he wasn't glowering at her.
“I know that some of this looks bad, but I haven't seen Camilla since yesterday at the resort…”
“Well, how convenient,” the officer said as he slid a photograph across the table towards her. “Because that's where we found her. She was shot and then thrown in the water.”
Wendy glanced down at the photograph and quickly looked away.
“Please take it away,” she whispered as she did not want to look at a Camilla’s dead body.
“Hard to look at,” he agreed and slid the photograph back into a folder. “But at the time, with all your anger running through you, maybe you just couldn't stop yourself. I get that, people snap, we're only human, and with what you were dealing with, well…I think anyone would snap.”
Wendy stared at him with horror in her eyes. “I could never do that,” she insisted in a soft, shocked tone. “I could never take someone's life like that,” she grimaced as she glanced in the direction of the folder.
“I don't think that you would do it in your right mind,” Polson nodded and tapped lightly on the folder. “But maybe your mind got a little lost.”
“No,” Wendy said firmly. “It didn't. I did not see Camilla again after she left the restaurant. I don't know who did, but it wasn't me.”
“Well, that's the thing, we don't know, either,” Polson said as he folded his hands on his stomach and sat back in his chair. “Because as far as we can tell you are the only one that threatened her that day. You are the only enemy of Camilla’s that we know of.”
“I'm not Camilla's enemy,” Wendy argued incredulously. Then she sighed as she closed her eyes. “At least I wasn't. Camilla taught me everything I know. I've worked with her for years. Yes, I was angry that she fired me, but no I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her.”
“Except stealing her clients and trying to ruin her business?” Polson suggested with a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Why not go one step further and take her life, too?”
“They were my clients,” Wendy offered though she knew it was fruitless. From the look in the officer's eyes it was clear that he had already made a decision about her. “Are you going to arrest me?” she asked with wide, tear-filled eyes. All of this was just far too overwhelming for her.
He was silent for a long moment as he studied her, before his thin lips drew into an even thinner line.
“Not today,” he finally said as he knocked on the table lightly.
“Oh,” Wendy blinked back her tears. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or not. “Can I go?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“There are a few papers to sign,” he said calmly and then stood up from his chair. He opened the door to the interrogation room and gestured for her to step out. Wendy was a little nervous to even stand up. From the way he was looking at her, she felt as if he was looking for any reason at all to arrest her. As she walked across the room and out through the door, she could feel his gaze lingering on her. Her breath was short as she expected any moment she might feel the cold grasp of handcuffs around her wrists. She started to walk down the hall that led to the exit, but Polson grabbed her by the elbow before she could. She clenched her teeth and braced herself, expecting that he was going to restrain her.
“Just sit here,” he instructed and something about his voice had softened. She glanced over at him as he pointed to a chair for her to wait in. She must have looked terrified, because he looked a little concerned. “It's all right, just some paperwork,” he said as he pointed to some papers on the desk. “I'll need you to sign them, okay?”
“Yes,�
� Wendy nodded as she sat down in her chair. Polson walked down the hall, glancing over his shoulder a few times as he did.
Wendy sat alone in the hard, metal chair after scrawling her name on the paperwork. She was trembling. She didn't want to be, but she couldn't help it. As she fumbled with her purse, she noticed someone sitting across from her. Once she laid eyes on him, it was hard to look away. He had a very intriguing manner about him. His legs were casually outstretched before him, encased in old, worn jeans that ran right up to a thick, black belt. On his hip a gun was holstered, though Wendy didn't see any badge. His button-down, blue shirt was tucked into the waistband of his jeans, just snug enough to hint at his abdominal muscles, and accentuate the broadness of his chest. He had his hands folded behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. His chin was covered in the faint scruff of a beard as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. It was not quite as dark as the waves on the top of his head. From his upturned lips a toothpick lazily protruded. Wendy was slightly shocked not to see a cowboy hat on his head as his entire demeanor reminded her of one. It wasn't until he lowered his head to meet her eyes that she realized she was staring at him. His eyes were large and hazel as they hung on her features. She glanced away quickly and tugged at her purse once more.
“Ms. Reed,” Officer Polson said as he walked over to her. “We're going to let you go home tonight. But please, stay local, and be available to answer our calls. What is the best number to contact you on?” he asked.
“I,” Wendy grimaced as she realized she didn't even have a phone at the moment. “I don't have a number.”
“Don't play games,” Polson warned. “I can keep you here if I need to.”
“No, please don't,” Wendy said quickly, the desperation obvious in her voice. “It's just that Camilla paid for my phone, and she took it back when she fired me, and I haven't gotten another one yet.”
“Well, without a way to contact you, we're going to have to keep you,” Polson said firmly.
“No please, I'll go and get a phone right now,” she insisted and stood up swiftly from the chair, perhaps a little too aggressively.
“I'm sorry, that's not going to work,” Polson said as he reached for his handcuffs.
“Calm down, Polson,” the man sitting across from her said as he stood up from his chair. He was taller than she had expected. “Here,” he handed Polson a business card. “You can reach her here, until she gets her new phone. I'll keep an eye on her for you,” he winked lightly at Wendy. Wendy didn't normally enjoy a stranger inserting himself into her business, but she was willing to accept any help she could find at the moment.
“Yes,” Wendy nodded quickly. “I'll stay with him.”
“You sure about that, Brian?” Polson asked as he took the card from him. Wendy caught sight of the business card as it changed hands.
It showed the man's name in bold print, Brian Alexander, and listed his profession as private investigator. Wendy looked up from the card into Brian's eyes, and he offered her a kind smile.
Wendy felt a small sense of relief.
“Is that all right with you, Ms. Reed?” Brian asked politely.
“Yes,” Wendy nodded. “Yes, I'll just run to the nearest shop and pick up a new phone, and I'll call you with the number as soon as I get it,” Wendy promised as she looked back at Polson.
“All right,” Polson nodded slowly. “But remember, stay local,” he reminded her with warning in his tone.
Chapter Four
Wendy's head was spinning as she walked with Brian down the hallway to the exit. Brian was silent until they reached the parking lot.
“You can ride with me,” Brian offered as he gestured to a plain black Cadillac that was parked in front of the police station. Wendy didn't have much of a choice since her car was still at her condo, but it was a little strange to get in the car of a complete stranger, especially an armed one.
“Thanks,” she said quietly as she opened the passenger side door. When she closed her door behind her, he climbed into the driver's side. She could smell his cologne all over the car. It wasn't strong, just there, as if there was rarely any other smell to disrupt it. Or perhaps he spent a lot of time in his car. He sat behind the tan wheel of the car and didn't move to start it.
“So, why don't you tell me what is going on, Wendy?” he asked as he glanced over at her. She noticed the way he was careful not to look at her directly. She was relieved by that since she felt as if she had just been through hours of interrogation. She knew it hadn’t been that long, but it felt that way.
“I'd rather not talk about it,” she sighed and laid her head back against the tan material of the car seat. She felt as if her entire body was throbbing with fear. She had never experienced so much panic. Not only in the last two days had she lost two of the things she held very dear in her life, now she might even lose her freedom.
“Just take a deep breath,” Brian advised solemnly.
“Huh?” Wendy looked over at him, and met his eyes briefly. They really were quite lovely, shifting from greens to blues, and even looking brownish at times.
“You're scared,” he said as he slid the key into the ignition. “It's perfectly normal to be. Just take a deep breath, and let your nerves calm down.”
“I'm not scared,” she began to argue but her voice faded off completely unconvincing. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes.
“Did you kill her?” he suddenly asked, the car still idling in the parking lot.
“What?” Wendy snapped, her eyes opening and her breath leaving her lungs at the same time.
He shifted in his seat so he could look directly at her. “Did you kill her?” he pronounced each word carefully.
“Of course not,” Wendy replied with growing irritation. “Do I look like a killer to you?”
“One thing I've learned, Wendy, is that a killer rarely looks like a killer,” he said coolly and then began backing out of the parking spot. “I only asked, because if you know you're innocent, that should help you to calm down.”
“You're right,” Wendy agreed with a heavy sigh and gazed out the window. “I shouldn't be scared when I've done nothing wrong.”
“I didn't say that,” he corrected her as he drove down the road towards a small strip mall that contained a cell phone store. “You have plenty of reason to be scared. From what I’ve heard, there's a lot of evidence against you. People have been convicted with much less.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better, or worse?” she asked as she gritted her teeth and looked in his direction.
“I'm just being honest,” he replied and then brushed his fingertips lightly over the crease of his lips just beneath his nose. “You want me to lie to you, I'll tell you that innocent people never go to prison, that circumstantial evidence is thrown out of court, and that cops are never in a rush to close a high profile case.”
Wendy's heart sank as she realized he was right. Camilla was a big name in the region, and as long as her murder went unsolved people would be upset and demanding that the police find a suspect. Luckily for them, they had a perfect suspect right in front of them, never mind that she didn't commit the crime. He parked and turned the car off in silence. They sat there for a few moments. Then he looked over at Wendy. Wendy couldn't bear to look at him. He was being kind to her, but she hated him for pointing out the truth.
“How do you know so much about the case?” she asked with suspicion.
“I have connections,” he smiled sheepishly.
“I'm going to be arrested, aren't I?” she asked in a whisper without looking in his direction.
“Not if I can help it,” he murmured. When she felt his touch on the back of her hand it seemed to inspire calm within her, and even comfort. She glanced up at him.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked hesitantly.
“Because you're not a killer, Wendy,” he smiled a little as he pulled his hand away from her. “And you don't deserve to be treated like one. Now, let's get
you a phone before Polson sends out a search party.”
Wendy drew a deep breath and tried to force down her fear. It was nice to have Brian's assurance but she had only just met him. How could he possibly keep her from being arrested?
***
When Wendy and Brian walked into the shop a woman behind the counter smiled at them. Wendy couldn't smile back. She made her living being cheerful and helpful, but she couldn't muster a good attitude at the moment.
“I'll take this phone,” she said quickly to the clerk and handed her one of the phones off the rack. “I just need it up and running as quickly as possible, please.”
“Right away,” the woman smiled and nodded. As Wendy watched the clerk walk away with what would be her new cell phone, Wendy felt everything come crashing down on her again. It was easy to get lost in the fact that she was questioned by police for murder, but she was also unemployed with bills to pay. She would have enough to buy the phone, but how long would she be able to pay for the service? She didn't exactly have much socked away.
“What am I going to do?” she said under her breath as her chest began to tighten again. “I need to get a lawyer.”
“No, what you need is a good private investigator,” Brian smiled as he leaned back against the counter. “And lucky for you, you've got one! Now, I don't normally fall for the damsel in distress routine, but it's not hard for me to tell that you wouldn't hurt a fly. So, you're in luck, I'll help you,” he shrugged.
Wendy stared at him with disbelief. His casual attitude was one thing, but the fact that he seemed to be waiting for her to jump for joy was quite another.
“I'm no damsel in distress,” she said sternly and squared her shoulders. “And what could a private investigator do to help me?”
“I don't know,” he stood up from the counter as the clerk returned with Wendy's phone. “Find out who the killer really is?” he suggested.
“Oh,” Wendy took the phone from the clerk, who looked at them uncomfortably. She handed the clerk her credit card to pay for the phone and then looked back at Brian. “Do you really think you could do that?”
