by Iris Kincaid
But as she neared the vehicle, Gillian was overtaken with a growing sense of dread. There was something in the trunk. It was shaped like a person but it didn’t glow with life. The energy and the colors, the aura that she was used to seeing pouring out of every human being she encountered, were absent. This body was lifeless. This body was dead. This body was Byron.
CHAPTER SIX
A few curious onlookers gathered around as Gillian tried to convince two police officers that the car trunk had to be forced open and that a dead body lay inside. One of the cops, a handsome fellow with dark curly hair, Officer Finn Cochran, got off the phone.
“So, that much checks out. This car does belong to one Byron Curtiss. Are you trying to tell us that he is a missing person, miss, and did you report that?” Gillian shook her head in frustration. “He’s not missing. He’s right there. Dead. You just have to open the trunk and see for yourself.”
The two cops exchanged a look. The chances that this young lady required a psychiatric evaluation were a lot higher than there actually being a body in this trunk.
“I think that Mr. Curtiss is going to be pretty upset if we pry open the trunk of his pretty new Mercedes,” Officer Cochran noted.
“He can’t be upset,” Gillian said woodenly. “He can’t ever be upset about anything ever again.”
“Ma’am, what is your relationship to Mr. Curtiss?” The second cop asked. He was a sweet, good-natured, sandy-haired stocky fellow. His badge said Officer Cliff Riley.
“He was . . . my boyfriend. We lived together for almost 2 years.”
“Was your boyfriend?” The first cop asked. “When did you break up?”
“About a month ago,” Gillian said in a daze. So much had happened. Had it really only been a month?
This was setting off alarm bells for Finn Cochran. “I say we open the trunk,” he said to the other cop.
“Yeah? But you get to be the one to explain this to the owner of this vehicle.”
Decision made, Officer Cochran retrieved a crowbar from the police car and pried open the Mercedes’s trunk in three quick successive pulls. It popped open, and everyone reacted with extreme shock, horror, and surprise. Everyone except Gillian. She had known what lay inside.
*****
A gruesome murder is hardly a tourist attraction. But by the time the coroner arrived, well over 100 people stood in the crowd, not able to tear themselves away from the horrific spectacle. And it was a bloodied, disturbing sight. The body’s head was covered with blood and had clearly had something smashed into it.
“Cause of death . . . a sharp axe right to the back of his skull,” the coroner pronounced.
“Ya think?” Officer Cochran deadpanned. “Got a time of death?”
“I’d put it at about two o’clock this morning. This is very, very recent.”
“Not enough time to decompose. Not enough time to smell. No blood outside the car.” Officer Cochran looked at Gillian sharply. “Did the killer drive the car here?”
“No. It happened right here. Right after the blow was struck. The body was pushed forward into the car. It wouldn’t have required a lot of strength to shove the rest of the body in. A little effort, but within almost any adult’s capabilities.”
“Ma’am, where are you parked?”
Abby finally pulled herself out of her shock. “We’re over there near the entrance. The parking lot was packed when we got here.”
“Way over there, huh? So, you came out of the parking lot, but instead of walking straight to your car, you came in this direction. Why is that?”
Abby looked toward Gillian helplessly. She had no idea why Gillian insisted on walking in this direction. “We just saw a pretty car down here that I wanted to check out. I’ve been shopping around for new car,” Abby lied.
“And then when you got down here . . .?”
“I knew that my ex-boyfriend had a black Mercedes. I knew that this was his car,” Gillian explained.
“I’m still a little fuzzy on how you knew exactly what was inside the trunk,” Officer Cochran said pointedly.
Gillian realized her error immediately. She should have bought a cheap TracFone at the drugstore, called the police, told them about the dead body, and then thrown the phone away.
Officer Riley stepped toward her with a comforting smile. “We’re going to need as much information as we can—his current address, contact information on his closest relatives, any insight into his activities and interactions leading up to his death. You mind coming down to the station and helping us fill out a report?”
“I suppose. I don’t know that I can be all that helpful. His new girlfriend probably knows a lot more than I do.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Officer Cochran said. “I’ll bet you’re a treasure trove of information.”
All this while, Gillian’s mind had been buzzing with confusion and guilt. Of course, she felt terrible, and knew how tragic the occasion was. But she wasn’t consumed with grief. She felt almost like the sad, disinterested onlookers who crowded the yellow crime scene tape. It was so strange to notice her own absence of pain.
She wasn’t the only one who found her lack of grief unusual. Officer Cochran never took his eyes off her.
*****
There was a charge of excitement in the air at the police station. Another homicide. It was quite a galvanizing event. There was a bad guy out there somewhere to catch. Officers Cochran and Riley were the envy of the station. They would be heading the case. As they led Gillian to the interview room, Finn Cochran couldn’t help but wonder whether this was going to be a very, very short case.
Gillian was flooded with information coming from all directions. In a glance, she took in the name and badge number of every officer there. The names and crime stats on the poster of fifty of America’s Most Wanted. A bulletin board full of labor regulations. Mandatory training classes. Computer screens filled with crime reports. Email messages. Family photos on everyone’s desks. Like most places, it was a sensory overload.
Thankfully, the interview room was decidedly minimalist, and with just a little effort, Gillian was able to block out awareness of what lay beyond the walls. The lack of distractions was vital since she needed to keep her wits about her. She had to speak very carefully and try to remember what she was supposed to know and what she was not supposed to know. Anything that involved the witch’s supercharged sight, she was not going to be able to explain. There was a multitude of times at the crime scene when she wanted to explain something to the coroner that she just shouldn’t have known.
She couldn’t tell him that the of the back of the car had been wiped clean, down to the bumper. She could see the demarcation of dust between the part that had been wiped and the part that had not. She could see that the tiny lines on the tips of Byron’s exposed hand were a perfect match for the fingerprints around the car door. While anyone with half an eye could tell that something sharp had been planted in the victim’s head, she could see the entire skull and the precise shape of the intrusion. Absentmindedly, she wondered if it was now her destiny to become a coroner.
Officer Cochran jumped right into it. “Ms. Swann. Why don’t we start with your whereabouts last night? Can you tell us where you were after midnight?”
“I was out walking for several hours. In the forest, at the edge of town.”
“The forest? After midnight? Who was with you?”
“I was alone. Well, my cat was with me.”
“Your cat. You were walking a cat? That’s pretty . . . special.”
Officer Riley, the kinder one, gently eased her along. “Did Mr. Curtiss have any enemies that you knew of? Anyone mad at him? Anyone he didn’t get along with?”
Gillian sighed. Her charming ex had been undeservedly popular and well-liked.” No. Everyone liked him a lot. He got invited to all the parties. I never wanted to go. So, he met a lot of people I didn’t know. But he never mentioned any problems. He wasn’t in any disagreements.”
<
br /> “So, you can’t think of anyone who would’ve wanted to do this to him?” Officer Cochran inquired. “You said he had a new girlfriend. Know her name?”
“Simone. I don’t know the last name.”
“You and Byron Curtiss broke up a month ago. So, he and the Simone had not been together very long. Is that right?”
Gillian grimaced. “No, that’s not right. They were seeing each other at least six months before we broke up. Maybe longer. I don’t know how much longer. As soon as I found out, I kicked him out.”
Both cops reacted. They’d had enough experience with relationships to know how seriously ticked off Gillian must have been.
“Six months? Long time. How did he get away with keeping it a secret for so long?”
Gillian hesitated. “I was blind.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Officer Riley reassured her. “Most people have a blind spot when it comes to their loved ones.”
The double meaning of the word blind was so usefully misunderstood that Gillian didn’t feel a need to elaborate. She didn’t want to talk about her disability, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about her new transformation.
“What a jerk,” Officer Cochran sympathized. “You must’ve wanted to strangle him.”
“I . . . yeah, I was pretty upset.”
“Fortunately, you seem to have gotten over it. You actually don’t seem to be upset at all. Which is a little strange, under the circumstances.”
The other cop clucked in disapproval. “She’s in shock. Perfectly natural, after what she just saw. Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Swann. We’ll give you a call if you have any more questions.”
“Okay.” Gillian rose to leave and headed for the door.
“And Ms. Swann? Don’t leave town.”
Gillian looked back at Officer Cochran in amazement. You would think that finding out that your ex had been murdered would be the most unequivocally extraordinary event of the day. But finding yourself a murder suspect came in a very close second.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gillian had never met Byron’s parents. But of course, they were at the funeral. The man was actually Byron’s stepfather. He held the hand of his wife, scowling all the while, impatiently waiting for the proceedings to be over. As to be expected, Byron’s mother looked inconsolable.
The memorial had been well attended, which was no surprise. Byron had been the life of the party. His friend Keith delivered the eulogy.
“Byron really knew what life is all about. He knew how to have a good time. He knew how to dream big and go for it. He was such an inspiration to me. A real mentor. We had just gone into business together.”
It went on ad nauseam from there. Gillian surreptitiously checked out the sad, solemn faces around her. How many people had Byron hoodwinked into thinking he was the salt of the earth?
A surprising number of them elected to attend the burial immediately afterward. Simone was among them, which Gillian had fully expected. There was an old lady there, dressed in all black, which should not have been remarkable. But Simone had seen her in Oyster Cove for her entire lifetime, and she knew for a fact that the woman always wore black, even on the sunniest day. It was rumored that she was a witch. But as illusions about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny fell away, Gillian filed her belief in witches as just another childhood myth.
Now, she knew better. Witches in Oyster Cove were a verifiable fact, though she wasn’t entirely ready to include herself among them. But what on earth would a witch be doing attending Byron’s funeral?
The witch was far from the most unexpected attendee. When it is said that you see something coming a mile away, it’s usually just a figure of speech. But through bushes, fences, and metal, Gillian actually did see officers Cochran and Riley coming from a mile away. They nodded greetings and removed their caps for the occasion.
“What are you doing here?” Gillian inquired warily.
Officer Cochran shrugged. “Just paying our respects. Like yourself.”
“Actually, we’re just making ourselves available to anyone who might have some information to impart,” Officer Riley explained. “For the sake of the case, as well as for the peace of mind of any family and friends of the deceased who need to see the killer brought to justice.”
“Have you spoken to Simone yet?”
“We couldn’t get a fix on her last name,” Finn Cochran said. “You wanna tell us something?”
“She’s right up there, standing next to Keith, who was Byron’s best friend, I guess. Her last name is Valentine. I saw her signature in the registry at the memorial service.”
“That’s very useful information. We certainly do appreciate your assistance, especially on such a painful day,” officer Riley said thankfully. “Why don’t I go over and introduce myself?”
“You do that,” Officer Cochran agreed. “I’ll just stay here and keep Ms. Swann here company.” After officer Riley departed, Cochran continued, “I’d offer you a hanky, but you don’t really seem to be in need of one.”
It was true that Gillian had not yet shed a single tear over Byron’s death. Still, it was a bit mean for Officer Cochran to point it out. “So, you two have this Good Cop, Bad Cop routine. And you’re Bad Cop.”
Funeral or no, Finn Cochran just couldn’t keep a straight face. He chuckled. “Bad Cop. That’s a good one. I’ll have to tell that one to my girlfriend. She’ll get a kick out of that.”
“She sounds peculiar.”
“I’m an acquired taste.”
His mind wandered off in thought for a moment, and the energy coming out of him shifted from a dark purple to a soft pink. Goodness. If Gillian had to guess, she’d have to say that Bad Cop was awfully fond of his girlfriend.
“You don’t seriously think that I have anything to do Byron’s death?”
Finn Cochran’s colors returned to a dark purple. “I just like to have my questions answered. And I have a question that’s going to bug me night and day until I hear a good answer. How on earth did you know that he was in the trunk?”
“I can’t really blame you for needing to know. And I know that it sounds really bad that I don’t have a good answer to that. But is there any conceivable scenario where I did know that, but wasn’t responsible, or even know who is responsible? Is that a possibility that you’re willing to entertain?”
Officer Cochran shook his head. “I guess I’m pretty hard to keep entertained. Oh, lookie here. We’ve got company.”
Officer Riley and Simone Valentine were headed in their direction. Gillian bristled. She had never wanted to speak to this woman ever again. Why should she? Why was Officer Riley bringing her over?
“I take it you two have already met?”
“That’s her. She’s the one I was just telling you about. She threatened to kill him. I heard it myself. Maybe the neighbors heard it too. She was yelling at the top of her lungs. See if she dares to deny it.”
The cops looked expectantly at Gillian, who looked away sheepishly. “I was having a really bad day. I was just learning about all the lies and what an idiot I had been to think that he cared about me. I can hardly remember what I said that day. Although . . . I may have threatened to kill him. You know, figuratively.”
Officer Riley gestured to his partner. “Ms. Valentine has agreed to come in and make a statement. Shall we?”
Simone and the two cops turned away from the funeral gathering, then Officer Cochran remembered to turn around and address Gillian.
“Ms. Swann? Don’t leave town.”
Although Simone had been downcast during the memorial service and the funeral, she couldn’t suppress a small smile of triumph, which did not go unnoticed by Gillian.
*****
Gillian and Abby had both realized that it was better that Abby not attend the funeral. Byron was at the very top of the list of people she despised. Best for her not to be in the midst of people who were genuinely mourning him. But they met afterward for dinner in a little se
afood restaurant, renowned for its scallop risotto. It also had a patio looking right out over the ocean. It was a calming setting. While it didn’t erase the stress of the day, it allowed Gillian to hold it at arm’s length.
“I know I have every reason in the world to be mad at him. But that doesn’t mean that I wanted him dead. Being a lying, cheating jerk doesn’t mean that he deserves to have his life taken away like that. The thing is . . . it’s horrible, right? But it just feels to me like it happened to someone I barely knew. Not someone I was attached to. Not someone I cared about. It’s as if I read about it in the papers and thought to myself, what a shame. What a terrible shame. I hope they catch the killer. And I hope that sale on peaches over at Kroger’s hasn’t ended. Isn’t that awful? I feel so awful that I don’t feel more awful.”
“Have some tiramisu,” Abby urged. “You’ll feel a lot better. Seriously. The connection between you two was a lie. I’m not saying that he deserved to die. But you don’t have to try to manufacture sympathy for a guy who only pretended to love you. And he robbed you blind. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say blind. He pulled the financial rug right out from under you. And getting back on track, giving yourself some security, some peace of mind—that’s where your energy has to go right now.”
“You’re right. But it still feels . . .”
“Sure, I know. It’s because you have such a good heart. But your future without him is going to be better than your past ever was with him. It’s a tragedy for his family and friends, maybe. Maybe. But you go right ahead and think about him as someone you read about in the papers.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Abby. I know this can’t be what you bargained for.”
“Me too, Cuz.”
