He was all cop now, she couldn’t help thinking.
Hard and alert and dangerous.
She was too startled to do more than watch him rush toward the sound for a few seconds. It always managed to astound her when police officers and firefighters raced toward potentially hazardous situations while people like her stood frozen.
She knew a little about Ross Fortune from her friend Susan, his cousin. He had been a police officer in San Antonio but had left the force a few years ago to open his own private investigation company.
He was a trained detective, she reminded herself, and she would probably do wise to just let him, well, detect.
But as another scream ripped through the night, past the happy laughter of the carnival rides and the throbbing bass coming from the dance, Julie knew she had to follow him, whether she was comfortable with it or not.
Someone obviously needed help and she couldn’t just stand idly by and do nothing.
Ross had a head start on her but she managed to nearly catch up as he darted around the corner of a display of pottery she had admired earlier in the evening.
Probably only ten seconds had elapsed from the instant they heard the first scream, but time seemed to stretch and elongate like the pulled taffy being sold on the midway alongside kettle corn, snow cones and cotton candy.
She ran after Ross and stumbled onto a strange, surreal scene. It was darker back here, away from the lights and noise of the Spring Fling crowd. But Julie could still tell instantly that the woman with the high-pitched scream was someone she recognized from seeing her around town, a blowsy blonde who usually favored miniscule halter tops and five-inch high heels.
She was staring at something a dozen yards away, illuminated by a lone vapor light, high on a power pole. A figure was lying motionless on the ground, faceup, and even from here, Julie could see a dark pool of what she assumed was blood around his head.
A third person stood over the body. It took Julie only a moment to recognize Frannie Fortune Fredericks, a frequent volunteer at the center.
And Ross’s sister, she remembered with stunned dismay that she saw reflected in his features.
Frannie was staring at her hands. In the pale moonlight, they shone much darker than the rest of her skin.
“It’s her. She killed him!” the other woman cried out stridently. “Can’t you see? The bitch killed my Lloyd!”
Her Lloyd? As in Lloyd Fredericks, Frannie’s husband? Julie looked closer at the figure on the ground. For the first time, she registered his sandy-blond hair and those handsome, slightly smarmy features, and realized she was indeed staring into the fixed, unblinking stare of Lloyd Fredericks.
This couldn’t be happening…
Ross quickly crossed to Lloyd’s body and knelt to search for a pulse. Julie knew even before he rose to his feet a moment later that he wouldn’t have been able to find one. That sightless gaze said it all.
That was definitely Frannie’s husband. And he was definitely dead.
Ross gripped his sister’s arm and Julie noticed that he was careful not to touch her blood-covered hands. How did he possibly have the sense to avoid contaminating evidence under such shocking circumstances? she wondered.
“Frannie? What’s going on? What happened?”
His sister’s delicate features looked pale, almost bloodless, and she lifted stark eyes to him. “I don’t…It’s Lloyd, Ross.”
“I can see it’s Lloyd, honey. What happened to him?”
The screaming woman wobbled closer on her high heels. “She killed him. Look at her! She’s got blood all over her. Oh, Lloyd, baby.”
She began to wail as if her heart were being ripped out of her cosmetically enhanced chest. Julie would have liked to be a little sympathetic, but she didn’t fail to notice the other woman only began the heartrending sobs when a crowd started to gather.
Ross turned to her. “Julie, do you have a phone? Can you call 911?”
“Of course,” she answered. While she pulled her phone out of her pocket and started hitting buttons, she heard Ross take charge of the scene, ordering everybody to step back a couple dozen feet. In mere moments, it seemed the place was crawling with people.
The 911 operator had just answered when Julie saw a pair of police officers arrive. They must have been drawn to the commotion from other areas of the Spring Fling.
“This is Julie Osterman,” she said to the 911 dispatcher. “I was going to report a…an incident at the Spring Fling but you all are already here.”
“What sort of incident?” the dispatcher asked.
Julie was hesitant to use the word murder, but how could it be anything else? “I guess a suspicious death. But as I said, your officers are already here.”
“Tell me what you know anyway.”
The woman took what little information Julie could provide to relay to the officers, who were pushing the crowd even farther back.
When she hung up the phone with the dispatcher, she stood for a moment, not sure what to do, where to go. She disliked this sort of crowd scene, the almost avaricious hunger for information that seemed to seize people when something dramatic and shocking occurred nearby.
She wanted to slip away but it didn’t feel quite right, especially when she had been one of the first ones on the scene. She supposed technically she was a witness, though she hadn’t seen anything and knew nothing about what had happened.
Julie scanned the crowd, though she didn’t know what she was seeking. A familiar face, perhaps, someone who could help her make sense of this shocking development.
In the distance, she saw someone in a black Stetson just on the other side of the edge of light emanating from the art fair. He made no move to come closer to investigate the commotion, which she found curious. But when she looked again, he was gone.
“Oh, Lloyd! My poor Lloyd.”
The woman who had alerted them with her screams was nearly hysterical by now, standing just a few feet away from her and gathering more stares from the crowd. Julie watched her for a moment, then sighed and moved toward her.
Though she wanted to slap the woman silly for her hysterics—whether they were feigned or not—she supposed that wasn’t a very compassionate attitude. She could at least try to calm her down a little. It was the decent thing to do.
She reached out and took the other woman’s hand in hers. “Can I get you something? A drink of water, maybe?”
“Nooooo,” she sobbed. “I just want my Lloyd.”
Lloyd wasn’t going to belong to anyone again—not his pale, stunned-looking wife and not this voluptuous woman who grieved so vociferously for him.
“I’m Julie,” she said after a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Crystal. Crystal Rivers. Well, that’s not my real name.”
“Oh. It’s not?” she asked, with a perfectly straight face.
“It’s my stage name. I’m a dancer. My real name is Christina. Christina Crosby.”
“How about if I call you Chris?”
“Christy. That’s what people call me.”
Julie offered a smile, grateful that their conversation seemed to soothe the woman a bit—or at least distract her from the hysterics. “Okay, Christy. What happened? Can you tell me? All I know is that we heard you scream and came running and found him dead.”
“I’ll tell you what happened. She killed him. Frannie Fredericks killed my Lloyd.”
CHAPTER TWO
Julie frowned as the woman’s bitter words seemed to ring through the night air.
She still couldn’t quite believe it. She had always liked Frannie. The woman seemed to genuinely care about her volunteer work at the Foundation and she had always been friendly to Julie.
She supposed no one could really see inside the heart of someone else or know how they would respond when provoked, but Frannie had always seemed far too quiet and unassuming for Julie to accept that she had murdered her husband.
“How can you be so certain? Did you see he
r do it?”
“No. He was already dead when I came looking for him.” She sniffled loudly and pulled a bedraggled tissue from her ample cleavage. “We were supposed to meet here and take off to my place after his obligations at the stupid Spring Fling. He didn’t even want to come, but Lloyd had business tonight he had to take care of.”
Business at the Spring Fling? Who on earth tried to conduct business at a community celebration?
“What kind?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Something important. Someone he had to talk to, he said. Maybe Frannie. Maybe he told her he was going to divorce her for me. I don’t know. I just know she killed him. Now watch—her brother Ross and the rest of the Fortunes are going to cover it all up. They think they own this whole damn town.”
Julie shifted, uncomfortable with the other woman’s antagonism. She liked and respected all the Fortunes. Susan Fortune Eldridge was one of her closest friends and she adored Lily Fortune, who was the driving force behind the Fortune Foundation that had been founded in memory of her late husband.
“Ma’am? Are you the one who found the body?”
Julie turned and found Billy Addison, a Red Rock police officer with whom she had a slight acquaintance through the Foundation.
“I did,” Crystal waved her scarlet red nails like she was rodeo royalty riding around the arena. “My poor Lloyd. Have you arrested Frannie Fredericks yet?”
“Um, not yet. Let’s not jump the gun here, miss. We’re going to be taking statements for some time now. I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.”
“Anything. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know. But I don’t know why you need to ask anybody anything. It’s plain as my nose job that Frannie did it. Look at her—she’s got blood all over her.”
She let out a dramatic sob, more for effect than out of any real emotion, Julie thought, with unaccustomed cynicism.
“Lloyd was going to leave her skinny butt,” Crystal said. “She knew it and that must be why she killed him. That’s what I was just saying.”
“Do you know that for a fact, ma’am?” the officer asked her.
“I know they fought earlier today. On the phone. I was with Lloyd and I heard the terrible things she said to him. She called him a two-faced liar and a cheat and said as how she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.”
“How did you hear her side of the conversation?” the officer asked. “Was she on speaker phone?”
Crystal gaped at him. “Um, maybe. I don’t remember. Or maybe she was just talking real loud.”
Or maybe the conversation never took place, Julie thought. She didn’t know what to believe—but she did know she shouldn’t be hearing any of this. Any affair between Lloyd Fredericks and Crystal Rivers was not something she wanted to know any more about.
She stepped away to leave the police officer to the interview. Still, Crystal wasn’t exactly being unobtrusive. Her words carried to Julie as she walked through the crowd.
“I just know Frannie made my poor Lloyd’s life a living hell. And now her brother’s going to cover it up. Watch and see if the Fortunes don’t all circle the wagons around her. You just watch and see.”
The Fortunes were a powerful family in Red Rock. But most of the ones she had met through the Foundation were also decent, compassionate people who cared about the community and making it a better place.
The family also had its enemies, though—people who resented their wealth and power—and Julie had a feeling Crystal wouldn’t be the only one who would whisper similar accusations about the Fortunes.
What a terrible way for the Spring Fling to end, she thought as she made her way through the crowd. The event should be a celebration, a chance for everyone in town to gather and help raise money for a worthy cause. Instead, one life had been snuffed out and several others would be changed forever, especially those in Lloyd’s family.
Julie knew the Frederickses had a teenage son. Josh, she thought was his name. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was friendly with Ricky Farraday Jamison, her boss Linda’s son, even though Ricky was a few years younger than Josh.
Had anyone told him yet? she wondered. How terrible for him if he were somehow drawn to the scene by the commotion and the crowd and happened to see his father’s body lying there. It was a definite possibility, even though the police were widening the perimeter of the scene, pushing the crowd still farther back.
Perhaps proactive measures were called for. Someone should find the boy first before he could witness such a terrible sight.
Ross Fortune seemed the logical person to find his nephew. She sighed. She really didn’t want to talk to him. Their altercation seemed a lifetime ago, but she would still prefer not to have anything more to do with the man.
If she had her preference, she would escape this situation completely and go as far away as possible. It reminded her far too much of another tragic scene, of police lights flashing and yellow crime tape flipping in the wind and the hard, invasive stares of the rapacious crowd.
She had a sudden memory of that terrible day seven years earlier, driving home from work, completely oblivious to the scene she would find at her tidy little house, and the subsequent crime tape and the solemn-eyed police officers and the sudden terrible knowledge that her world had just changed forever.
She didn’t think about that day often anymore, but this situation was entirely too familiar. Then again it would have been unusual if the similarities didn’t shake loose those memories she tried to keep so carefully contained.
She didn’t want Frannie’s son to go through the same thing. He needed to be warned, whether she wanted to talk to his uncle again or not. She started through the crowd, keeping an eye out for the tall, gorgeous private investigator.
In the end, he found her.
“Julie! Ms. Osterman!”
She followed the sound of her name and discovered Ross in a nearby vendor booth with his sister and the Red Rock chief of police, Jimmy Caldwell.
Frannie Fortune was slumped in a chair while her brother hovered protectively over her. She looked exactly as Julie imagined she had looked that day seven years ago. Frannie’s lovely, delicate features were stark and pale and her eyes looked dazed. Numb.
She wanted to hug her, to promise her that sometime in the future this terrible day would be just an awful memory.
“I told you, Jim,” Ross said. “I was talking to Ms. Osterman just a row over when we heard a scream. We were the first ones on the scene, weren’t we? Besides the other woman.”
Julie nodded.
“You’re the one who called 911, right?” the police chief asked her.
“Yes. But your officers were on the scene before I could even give the dispatcher any information. Probably only a moment or two after we arrived,” she said.
The police chief wrote something in a notebook. “Can you confirm the scene as you saw it? Lloyd was on the ground and Frannie was standing over him.”
“Yes.” She pointed. “And the other woman—Crystal—was standing over there screaming.”
“You didn’t see anyone else? Just Frannie and Crystal?”
Julie nodded. “That’s right. Just them.”
“Frannie? You want to tell me what happened before Ross and Ms. Osterman showed up?”
She lifted her shell-shocked gaze from her blood-stained pants to the police chief. “I don’t know. I was looking for…I just…I found him that way. He was just lying there.”
“Tell him, Frannie,” Ross insisted. “Go ahead and tell Jim you had nothing to do with Lloyd’s death.”
“I…I didn’t.”
Jimmy scratched the nape of his neck. “That’s not a very convincing claim of innocence, Frannie. Especially when you’re the one standing here over your dead husband’s body with blood on your hands.”
Ross glared at him. “Frannie is not capable of murder. You have to know that. You’re crazy if you think she could have done this.”
The police chief raised
a dark eyebrow that contrasted with his salt-and-pepper hair. “This might not be the best time for you to be calling names, Fortune.”
“What else would you call it? My sister did not kill her husband, though she should have done it years ago.”
“Appears to be no love lost between the two of you, was there?”
“I hated his miserable, two-timing guts.”
“Maybe you need to be the one coming down to the station for questions instead of Frannie here.”
“I’ll go any place you want me to. But I didn’t kill him any more than my sister did. I’ve got an alibi, remember? Ms. Osterman here.”
“He’s right. He was with me,” she said.
“Lucky for you. Unfortunately, by the sound of it, Frannie doesn’t have that kind of alibi. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to the station to answer some questions, Frannie.”
“Come on, Jimmy. You know she couldn’t have done this.”
“You want to know what I know? The evidence in front of me. That’s it. That’s what I have to go by, no matter what. You were a cop. You know that. And I’m also quite sure this is going to be a powder keg of a case. I can’t afford to let people say I allowed the Fortunes to push me around. I have to follow every procedure to the letter, which means I’m going to have to take her in for questioning. I have no choice here.”
Ross glowered at the man but before he could say anything, another officer approached them. He was vibrating with energy. Julie imagined in a quiet town like Red Rock, this sort of situation was the most excitement the small police force ever saw.
“We found what might be the murder weapon, sir,” the fresh-faced officer said. “I knew you would want to know right away.”
“Thanks, Paul,” the chief tried to cut him off before he said more, but the officer didn’t take the hint.
“It was shoved under a display table in one of the tents and it’s got what appears to be blood on it. I’ll have CSU process it the minute they show up. Take a look. What do you think, sir?”
All of them followed the man’s pointing finger and Julie could see a large, solid-looking ceramic vase. When she turned back, she saw that Frannie Fredericks had turned even more pale, if that was possible.
Change of Fortune Page 2
