Paint the Town Dead

by Sybil Johnson

  “Can you at least confirm what you said on Facebook?”

  Rory had no idea what the reporter was talking about. She hadn’t logged into her account since the convention started, and even if she had, she didn’t think anything she wrote would be newsworthy. “What are you talking about?”

  Veronica pushed the OFF button on her recorder and stuck it in her tote bag. “Look at the convention’s Facebook page and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  “Why?”

  “Just look.”

  Rory directed her phone’s browser to the page she’d set up for the convention and read, with growing horror, what she’d supposedly confided to the person who posted the comment.

  “I never said that! I never said the management of the Akaw was too slow to act when Jasmine collapsed.” Her mouth hung open in disbelief. “I would never say anything against one of my clients. And I certainly wouldn’t say it’s their fault she died. The hotel did nothing wrong.”

  “That’s horrible,” Liz said.

  Rory took note of the name of the individual who had posted the lie then deleted the post from the convention’s page, hoping she’d taken it down before anyone who worked at the hotel noticed it.

  “Sorry, no story,” she said to Veronica.

  For a moment, the reporter seemed disappointed, then her face lit up. “There’s always a story. Just not the angle I was looking at.” With that cryptic comment, Veronica scribbled something down on a notepad and walked out of the ballroom with a smile on her face.

  “What do you think that was about?” Liz said.

  “I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to know.” Rory looked through the rest of the entries to make sure there weren’t any other time bombs. She smiled at a photo her mother had posted of her and Jasmine clowning around on the trade show floor the night of the early shopping opportunity. Her smile faded when she realized less than twenty-four hours later her friend would be dead.

  Before she shut down her browser, she checked out the page of the person who had posted the lie. Most of it was blank: no posts on the timeline, no picture of who the page belonged to, no friends. Even the name was so common, she found over twenty versions of it on the site. She wondered if this was yet another effort by the protesters to stir the pot and do more damage to the hotel’s reputation.

  While Rory was looking at the page, trying to get a hint as to who had put it together, Liz peered down at her own phone. “Who’s this with Nixie’s son?” She held out the display to Rory. “She’s in a lot of photos with him.”

  “I don’t know her name, but I saw her with him in the lobby the other day.” Rory cast her mind back to the first day of the convention when she’d seen the teenage girl making out with Gordon. “Come to think of it, I saw her coming out of the convention office when I went to see Nixie. They were arguing about something.”

  “She sure gets around. Isn’t that her talking to Jasmine?”

  Rory peered at her friend’s phone. In the background of a photo of a group of convention goers in the lobby, the teenager stood next to Jasmine, an earnest expression on the girl’s face. “Sure looks like it.”

  A short time later, they were heading toward the lobby restrooms when Gordon walked toward them. He peered at Rory’s badge and handed her an envelope. “Here. Mom wanted me to give this to you.”

  In the envelope, Rory found a check for the amount due to her. “Thank her for me.”

  As he turned to go, she said, “Who’s that girl I saw with you the other day in the lobby?”

  The teen looked at her as if to say you need to be more specific.

  “Brown hair, petite.”

  His face turned sour. “Oh, her. Just a girl I hung out with for a while. Mom asked you to grill me, didn’t she? Well, you can tell her she has nothing to worry about. We’re not going out anymore. Tempest was just using me.”

  At least now she had a name to go with the face, Rory thought. “Your mother didn’t send me. I saw Tempest with a friend of mine. Just wondered what they were talking about.”

  The teen shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

  Rory opened her mouth to ask how she could get in touch with the girl when a voice behind them said, “Tell them, tell them what your mother did.”

  Chapter 14

  Rory stared at the young girl from the photograph who stood behind Gordon, arms akimbo, an angry expression on her face. Hard to believe this was the same girl who’d been making out with Nixie’s son only two days before.

  “What are you talking about?” Rory looked from Tempest to Gordon and back again. “What did Nixie do?”

  “You have no proof,” Gordon said to the young girl, ignoring Rory’s question. “No way my mom stole that money. You just don’t want to believe your mother did it.”

  “Face it. Your mom’s a lush. Probably doesn’t know what she’s doing half the time, anyway. You told me you don’t have much money. That your mom can’t always pay the bills. You know she probably drinks away most of it.”

  “I told you that in confidence.” Gordon raised his hand as if to strike the girl.

  Rory stepped between the two angry teens, ready to intervene if circumstances warranted, but the tense moment soon passed. The young man took a deep breath, lowered his arm and stepped back.

  “Calm down. What’s going on?” Rory said in what she hoped was a soothing voice.

  “My mom’s in prison and I’m stuck in a foster home. All because of his mother.” Tempest stabbed a finger at Gordon’s chest. “She embezzled from the company she worked for and blamed it on my mom. All I want is for Nixie to admit to what she did so I can get my life back. I’ve tried to convince him, but he won’t believe me. He needs ‘proof.’” Tempest air-quoted the last word.

  If Tempest had accused Nixie of the crime to her son’s face, no wonder they were no longer going out, Rory thought.

  “My mother would never, ever do that,” Gordon insisted. “I told you before, I won’t try to convince my mom to confess to something she didn’t do.” He stormed off and headed toward the hotel exit.

  “Is that true? What you said about Nixie?” Liz asked Tempest after Gordon left.

  The girl nodded. “I warned that woman, the one who does the bookkeeping for the convention. Told her what Nixie had done.”

  “When was this?” Rory asked.

  “Monday, late afternoon. She was sitting in the lobby waiting for someone. She got all upset at me. Didn’t believe me, either.”

  That must have been right before she picked Jasmine up for dinner, Rory thought. Her friend hadn’t mentioned the encounter to her, but she had a cataplectic attack not long after hearing the news. Strong emotions often brought one on. She wondered if Jasmine had asked Nixie about the girl’s accusations at her meeting the following day.

  Happy to have someone finally listening to her, Tempest told them all she knew about the crime. After she finished her tale, she thanked them for hearing her out and left the hotel.

  “We need to talk with Nixie,” Liz said.

  “I think we should confirm Tempest’s story first. She could be making it all up. Nixie does carry around a photo of a woman who looks a lot like Tempest. I bet it’s her mother. So they must know each other. There might be articles in the paper about the case. Let’s walk over to the library and see what we can find out.”

  When they walked into the imposing glass and steel building that housed the city’s library, light streamed through the windows onto the shelves and tables set throughout the one-story structure. Rory and Liz wended their way through the stacks to the metal shelf containing paper copies of the Vista Beach View, disappointed when they discovered the library only kept the last two months in hardcopy. The librarian at the reference desk directed them to the newspaper website where they could find the back issues they were looking for.

  With Liz looking over her shoulder, Rory settled down at one of the library’s computers and searched the archives for
information on the embezzling case. Before long, she found articles on the arrest and trial of Tempest’s mother.

  After they looked at everything she could find, Rory sat back in her chair and pondered what she’d read. “Tempest’s story checks out, but that doesn’t mean Nixie did it. We don’t even know if she worked at the company. But if Nixie did and Jasmine asked her about it...” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the older man working on the computer next to hers.

  “Do you think Nixie could have killed Jasmine?” Liz whispered back.

  Without lifting his eyes from the screen, the man scooted his chair closer to them.

  “Maybe.” Rory sneaked a peek at her neighbor who had now stopped typing and was avidly listening to their conversation. “Let’s walk back to the hotel. We can talk about it on the way.”

  She cleared the browser’s history and closed the window. Neither of them said a word until they were out on the street.

  “So what do we do now?” Liz said.

  “We need to ask Nixie about where she worked. If it’s not the same company as in the articles, we’ll just drop it.”

  With renewed vigor, the two headed into the Akaw to see what the woman had to say, but by the time they reached the convention office, Gordon was the only one there and the convention organizer was nowhere in the hotel.

  Putting off the interview until later, the two young women parted in the lobby. Liz went to a class while Rory headed down to the beach to think.

  The overcast skies had burned off, revealing bright sunshine that beat down on row upon row of sun worshippers stretched out on colorful towels.

  Rory took off her tennis shoes and socks, rolled up her jeans and stepped out onto the hot sand. Squeals of delight drifted toward her on a breeze as she walked along the beach, parallel to the water, until she reached an unoccupied swing set the city had set up not far from the nearby walkway. Dropping her shoes down on the sand beside her, Rory settled down onto a swing facing the water and contemplated the ocean as she gently swung back and forth in time with the waves.

  She was mulling over everything she’d learned that day when she sensed someone beside her. She looked up to find Detective Green standing with one hand on the empty swing next to hers. “May I?”

  After Rory nodded her agreement, he sat down on the U-shaped seat. Neither one looking at the other, they both swung back and forth, side by side, in companionable silence.

  “How’s the convention going?” the man finally said.

  “Fine. Any leads on the person who threw the rock through my window? Someone’s still investigating, right?”

  “Unless someone confesses, we’ll probably never know.”

  “What about Jasmine’s death?”

  He stilled his swing and stared at her quizzically. “That was an accidental overdose. You know we closed the case. Why are you asking me about it?”

  Rory placed her bare feet on the sand to stop the swing’s momentum and looked directly into his eyes, daring him to contradict her. “You’re wrong. That’s not what happened.” Before he could bring it up, she said, “And I’m not talking suicide.”

  “There’s no evidence it was anything other than an unfortunate accident. What makes you so sure it was anything else?”

  “First, how did she take her medicine when it was found in her hotel room, not in her purse? She had to have taken it shortly before she collapsed. Within five or ten minutes. How do you explain that?”

  “Simple. She went up to her room before she returned to class. That trip wouldn’t take very long.”

  “Where’s your proof?”

  “She was spotted entering the elevator right after the all-clear was given.”

  The information took Rory by surprise. She mulled it over for a minute. “That doesn’t mean she went to her room. Does the hotel security footage show her actually going inside her room?”

  “There aren’t any cameras on the guest room floors.”

  Rory stared at him in disbelief. “Why not? It’s a brand-new hotel.”

  The detective shrugged. “Not my department. You’ll have to ask someone from the hotel that.”

  “What about the ones in the elevator? I’ve seen them. Could you tell what floor she got off on?”

  “The top floor. That’s where her room is, so it stands to reason that was her destination. What else have you got? What about motive? Why would someone kill your friend? As far as I can tell she’s lived a pretty blameless life. No arrests. No legal problems. Not even a parking ticket.”

  “What about Peter? He had access to her medicine, knew her class schedule, and was even seen in the hotel the day she died, going into the classroom. Then there’s the life insurance. That’s means, motive, and opportunity. Isn’t that what you guys are always talking about?”

  “I thought he was a friend of yours.”

  “I didn’t say he did it. I said he could have. I’m just using him as an example. There might be others we don’t know about. I’ve barely started looking into it.”

  Detective Green’s brow furrowed, and his face darkened. “I told you. No investigating. You know what happened last time. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  Rory basked in a moment of unexpected pleasure at his concern. “I thought you didn’t believe she was murdered.”

  “I still don’t. Some people don’t like anyone getting into their business. People can be unpredictable. You never know who you’ll upset.” The detective stared at the ocean. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Rory thought about mentioning Nixie’s alleged embezzling, but decided against it. She didn’t have any proof yet. Detective Green wouldn’t believe her unless she had something concrete. Plus, she wanted to give the woman a chance to tell her side of the story first.

  “Listen.” He stood up and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’d lock you up if I thought it would keep you safe, but something tells me you’d find a way to get in trouble, even then. Promise me, whatever you get up to, you’ll be careful.”

  Before she could answer, someone behind them cleared their throat. As one, the two of them turned toward the sound. Clad in a sundress and carrying flip-flops, Brandy stood in the sand nearby.

  Detective Green removed his hand from Rory’s shoulder, then nodded at the two of them and headed across the beach toward the nearby walkway.

  “What was that about?” Brandy sat down on the swing the detective had been sitting in moments before.

  “I was just trying to convince him to reopen Jasmine’s case.”

  “What did he say?”

  Rory shook her head. “I think if we found more evidence he’d reconsider. Did you see Jasmine the day she died?”

  Brandy looked down at her feet and sighed. “No, I didn’t see her. I wish I had.” She took a deep breath. “I’d feel better. Closure, you know?”

  “I know what you mean. Are you and Peter still dancing tonight?”

  “I came to give you our schedule. We were hoping you could make it.”

  After telling Rory the where and when, Brandy headed home. A dozen swings later, Rory gave one last wistful look at the ocean before walking back to the hotel. She checked in with her mother and, after retrieving her now-clean clothes from the hotel laundry, went in search of Liz. The two ate an early dinner in the hotel restaurant, keeping their conversation focused on decorative painting and away from murder.

  Later that evening, Rory walked the four blocks to Vista Beach Elementary to see Brandy and Peter compete in the finals of the dance competition they’d entered. The gymnasium where the contest was taking place pulsed with excitement as she stepped inside. The judges sat at a long table on one side of the floor with bleachers opposite them reserved for family and friends of the contestants.

  Relieved to see she wasn’t out of place in her V-neck t-shirt and jeans, Rory settled into a spot in the bleachers moments before the emcee took the floor, announcing the start of the final phase of the competition. The gym that
usually saw preteen basketball players racing up and down the court was now the temporary home of elegantly clad men and women.

  Rory cheered with everyone else when the dancers took the floor. All of the male contestants wore suits while the women dressed in elegant gowns in a variety of colors that sparkled under the lights and revealed more skin than Rory would have felt comfortable showing. She almost didn’t recognize Brandy in her rhinestone studded dress in a shimmering red. The diagonal fringing on the outfit gently swayed as she walked gracefully across the floor.

  Rory swept all her cares to the back of her mind and concentrated on enjoying watching the couples compete in the Argentine tango portion of the program. She crossed her fingers when Peter and Brandy started their routine. Other than an infinitesimal moment of stiffness at the beginning of their first dance, the couple sailed through the competition.

  The ten minutes it took for the judges to deliberate seemed like forever. Rory stood up and clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the audience when the winners were announced. A man dressed in tails and his partner, a woman in a revealing blue gown with black lace sleeves and a side thigh opening, came in first, with Peter and Brandy a close second.

  After the program was over, Rory milled around in the gym with the crowd, waiting for her friends to come out of the dressing area. When most of the competitors had changed and they still hadn’t appeared, she went in search of them, navigating the halls of the elementary school looking for the rooms set aside for costume changes. She peeked in the classrooms as she walked past, but all she saw were empty rooms with tot-sized desks and cubbyholes for backpacks. She was turning a corner to go down the corridor that led to the principal’s office when she spotted a man and a woman in a passionate embrace. She started to back away to give them privacy, then involuntarily gasped when she recognized them.

  Peter and Brandy broke apart and turned in her direction.

  Stunned, Rory stared at her two friends who, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, silently stared back. She felt rooted to the linoleum in the hallway. Finally, her brain got through to her legs and, without saying a word, Rory turned around and walked down the hall and around the corner.