A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6)

by Larissa Reinhart

  “Mom’s still at Grandmother’s apartment.” Her voice dropped. “It was nice of you to offer to help her. I know you were just protecting Molly. You’ll be happy to know I’ve met the replacement for Della’s assistant.”

  “That’s a relief. I’ll tell Molly myself. I don’t think she’s handling Belvia’s death well.”

  “I’m sure my mother hasn’t helped. To be honest, I was reluctant to make this trip with her and Dad. But I wanted to meet Belvia and hoped it meant my mother had changed her ways.”

  “What ways?”

  “She’s got some issues.” The answer was vague despite the bite in her tone. “And Wally has codependency down to a science. He self-medicates, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She huffed out a long sigh. “Don’t be. They’ve made their own mess. I’ve resigned myself to taking care of them. Work helps with that. I wish I had reached out to Belvia instead of believing what Mother had always said about her. And now it’s too late.”

  “You can’t help that, Pris.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve made some unwise choices myself. Now I’ve got to deal with the consequences.”

  I winced at the harshness in her tone, which sounded more derisive than bitter. After offering her a few more consoling remarks, I hung up.

  Her last statement confused me, but I let it go, realizing I’d driven halfway to Halo House instead of toward Shawna Branson’s. Rather than turn around, I decided to visit Molly and give her Pris’s news about the new assistant. While I was at it, I could do a quick Parker sweep.

  Even my subconscious excelled at procrastinating.

  Back at Halo House, a crossing flurry of afternoon activities caught me in the lobby. I spotted Hazel sneaking off to Rosie’s hot yoga class. A swarm of DAR ladies scooted—half of them literally—toward the library for their monthly High Tea, held at two o’clock. Waiting until four ruined dinners.

  Nobody had seen Molly, which told me she grieved alone. I snagged Ada in an attempt to force new friendships on Molly. Together we elevatored to the second floor to give Molly the news that Coralee wouldn’t bother her anymore.

  We waited outside her apartment door.

  “Candy, this is taking forever. I was planning on checking out the hot yoga,” said Ada. “We could leave a note on her whiteboard.”

  “It’s Cherry. Molly lost her best friend. Be more sympathetic.”

  “Not like that never happens here.” She snorted. “Why don’t you sign her up for an activity? It’s more natural than your attempt to shove people at her. Maybe this Molly wants to be alone.”

  “I already asked her to join my art class.”

  “Refused, huh? She’s a smart one, then.” Ada grinned at my glare. “What are you trying to do? Put all your little projects in that class?”

  “My Halo House friends are not projects, Ada.”

  “Tell that to Hazel.” Ada folded her arms. “Looks like Molly’s not home. Or she doesn’t want to talk to us.”

  “Coralee’s still in Belvia’s suite.” I spun in that direction. “I hope she didn’t drag Molly into that apartment to make Molly help with her something.”

  We hurried down the hall to Belvia’s apartment. Ada rapped a withered knuckle and the door swung open.

  “Weird. Someone must be home though.” I poked my head through the wide door and called out for Coralee. The lamps had been turned off in the living room, but light spilled from the office door. “If Coralee’s making Molly work, I’m having a fit.”

  “Can we go in?” asked Ada. “I’ve never been invited to Her Highness’s house.”

  “Just a minute. They could be in the office. I’ll check.” I left Ada in the doorway and scooted past the boardroom/kitchen table, calling for Coralee and Molly as I went. From behind the office door, a tinny voice spoke without inflections or rests. The spew of words almost sounded like gibberish.

  “Coralee? Is Molly with you?” I rapped, but the electronic voice continued its monologue without a break.

  A frisson of electricity shot through me and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Hello?”

  Pushing the door open, I stepped inside. The big office chair faced the computer. A scrolling marquee of numbers lit the top of the monitor, while the electronic voice read from a window opened below. A blue cursor lit words as the narrator repeated each in its rapid monotone. A metallic smell assailed my nose, giving more life to the robot voice.

  My eyes darted from the computer to the chair. Suit-jacketed arms hung on either side of the chair’s armrests. Pants-suited legs sprawled beneath the desk, hanging from the chair like she had given up on sitting and had slid into an awkward napping position.

  “Coralee?” I placed a hand on the chair back and yanked it off. The leather felt sticky. My stomach took a noxious roll. I peeked around the edge of the chair.

  Coralee lay slumped, propped by her hanging arms, her head lolling to one side. Dried blood had spattered her shirt, the chair, and the desk.

  I took a shuddering breath, tasted the sharp metallic scent, and cut off the breath. My hand dangled away from me, as far from the rest of my body as I could get. My chest squeezed, wishing for the breath I was not taking. I let it out, then bit my tongue not to scream.

  With a quick pivot, I shot out of the office and slammed into Ada. I made a grab for her elbow, pulled back my dirty hand, and pointed at the door. “Get out. Get back in the hall.”

  “What’re you doing?” said Ada. “I’m not high and mighty enough to get a peek at Belvia’s living room? What’s in that office? A throne?”

  “No.” I flapped my hands. “Go. Downstairs. Go to your yoga class. The bar. Just go.”

  “Why?” Ada craned her neck. “What’s the big deal? Coralee and Molly having a meeting?”

  I shook my head.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you, Cherry Tucker? Did you see Belvia’s ghost or something?”

  My head swiveled to and fro, agitating like a too wet dog, but I couldn’t stop the shaking. It started with my head, worked its way down my neck, and into my hands. “Go.” My voice sounded as rusty and tinny as the computer’s.

  “How much coffee did y’all have today?” Ada shoved past me.

  Too busy convulsing, I couldn’t stop her.

  The office door swung open. “Holy shit. Is that a pencil stuck in Coralee’s neck?”

  It wasn’t just a pencil. It was one of my drawing pencils. The one I had used to take notes during her board meeting. Easily recognized by my dental prints.

  My teeth marks. On my pencil. Which someone had used to kill Coralee Brakeman.

  Twenty-Five

  While Forks County’s finest scoured Belvia’s apartment, Deputy Wellington sat with Ada and me in Ada’s apartment. A victim blanket had been draped around my shoulders, which had helped quiet the shakes. A paper bag had been rubber banded around my wrist, but I’d finally got to wash it off after Evidence finished with me.

  “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” said Ada. “And I’m seventy-eight.”

  “I told you to get out,” I said. “I told you not to go in there.”

  The deputy’s eyebrows twitched. “And why’s that?”

  “Because I didn’t think a seventy-eight-year-old should see a dead body.”

  “Good Lord, do you know how many funerals I’ve been to?” said Ada.

  “How many of those funerals had a body with a pencil stuck in the neck? Huh, Ada?” I rubbed my temple. “Sorry. I’m just a little upset right now.”

  “It’s shock,” said the deputy.

  “Don’t think so. She’s overprotective and it makes her huffy,” said Ada. “If anyone’s likely to have seen bodies impaled by pencils, it’s this o
ne.”

  “True,” said the deputy.

  “You know her?”

  “Everyone at Forks County Sheriff knows Cherry.” Wellington smirked, then turned his attention to his ear piece. “Sheriff Thompson’s on his way.”

  “Great.” I hunched inside the blanket and fought off a shiver.

  “Got a record, does she?” Ada’s lips quirked. “Where’s her cop boy toy? Why isn’t Deputy Heartbreak here?”

  “He’s off the clock,” I said irritably.

  “Maybe you should call him.”

  “Maybe you should cut it out, Ada.”

  We looked up as the door opened. Uncle Will and Fred strode inside. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

  Fred hurried to Ada. “Are you okay?” He dropped on the couch next to her and wrapped an arm around her.

  She shoved him off. “I’m fine. I’m not the one with a pencil stuck in her neck.”

  Uncle Will glanced at the deputy. “You got this, Wellington?”

  He nodded. “Got statements from both. Her hand’s been wiped. Got her fingernails too.”

  “Let’s take a walk.” Uncle Will crooked his finger.

  Leaving the blanket with Fred and Ada, I shuffled to Uncle Will. He squeezed my neck, led me out of Ada’s apartment, then crooked an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his massive frame. “You okay, girl?”

  I nodded. “That was my pencil.”

  “Cheer up,” he said. “I don’t think that’s what killed her.”

  I forgot about my sour stomach. “What killed her?”

  “Not sure yet, but the arterial spray wasn’t enough for me to believe she bled to death.”

  “Wasn’t enough?” I grimaced. “It was enough for me.”

  “Plus, there’s no evidence of her fighting back. If someone’s going to stab you in the neck, wouldn’t you have put up a struggle?”

  “Hell, yes.” I hugged the man. “Thank you.”

  “I knew how you’d feel. Guilty as all get out about that pencil. I recognized it right off. No eraser and you always nibble the end. I used to fear you’d get lead poisoning.” He wrapped his powerful arms around me, dropped a kiss on the top of my head, then pulled me off his body. “Now we’re going to talk about the reason you were in Belvia Brakeman’s apartment. Barely an hour after we had a talk about you not getting involved with the Brakemans.”

  “First, did y’all check on Molly?”

  He nodded. “Molly’s fine.”

  “Thank the merciful heavens. I kept asking Wellington to let me see her and he kept telling me to sit tight.”

  “Good for him for following orders. Those were my exact words.” He guided me into the elevator.

  “I was looking for Molly, not a Brakeman. Pris said her mother was still at Belvia’s. I thought Coralee might’ve bugged Molly into helping again and she might need a rescue. When Ada and I knocked, I could tell something was wrong. I sure didn’t mean for Ada to get involved.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.” His tone was drier than a week old biscuit.

  “Anyway,” I said hurriedly, “I guess whoever did this found my pencil lying around?”

  “If you were going to hope for such a thing, I’d say I hope so.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ron Newson’s pitching a fit about you being at the scene of two deaths.”

  I opened my mouth, then bit my tongue to stop the words I didn’t want to use in front of Uncle Will. “It does look bad, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You’re sure now Belvia’s been murdered?”

  “Looking pretty good for that. That’s three Brakemans in about two weeks. And Belvia full of digoxin with no heart problems? Don’t know how that happened yet, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. Plus there’s Della’s hit and run.” He rubbed his chin. “All we’ve got left of the Brakemans are grandkids and sons-in-law.”

  “And company suits.”

  The elevator dinged and we wormed our way through the gawkers. Deputies held the crowd back. Uncle Will stepped through their ring. I followed, scanning the crowd. Peering over an outstretched deputy’s arm, Hazel stood on her toes, balancing her weight on a tripod cane. Her eyes searched Belvia’s doorway, making me wonder if she looked for Parker.

  I tugged on Uncle Will’s sleeve. “Are Ron Newson and his son in there?”

  “No. Someone told Ron before we could get to him. Coralee’s family was at the plant, but I had them brought to the Tea Grove. I’ll head out there later.” He glanced at me. “I want you to walk me through what you saw.”

  We entered the living room. The couch had been pulled out. Evidently, my Prozac find had prompted a more thorough search. On the boardroom/kitchen table, a small plastic number marked a Derwent 2B sketching pencil and a tube of Burt’s Bees.

  “So that’s where my lip balm went?” I said. “Front right sofa leg is where I found the pills. My stuff rolled under the couch this morning. I didn’t stop in the living room when I found Coralee. The lights were off. I heard the computer talking and saw the lamp on in the office.”

  We moved toward the office. The door stood open. A deputy stepped aside, and I pointed at the computer screen.

  “It was reading something aloud. Miss Belvia had dictation software. I noticed the computer first. I guess because it was talking. The chair back blocked my view, but I saw Coralee’s arms and legs then grabbed the chair.” My lip curled at the thought. “Coralee was all slumped like she’d slid halfway down. With that pencil sticking out of her neck. My pencil...”

  Uncle Will patted my back. “You saw the pencil and then?”

  I cleared my throat. “Remembered Ada was with me. She was in the living room.” I rubbed my temple. “I stood there like a damn idiot and let her look in the office.”

  “How long was Ada in the office?”

  I blinked to clear my mind of the pencil. “I don’t know, half a minute at the most? Not long.”

  “Didn’t see if she touched anything?” He acknowledged my head shake with a grunt. “Do you think Ada would’ve taken anything from the office? Maybe not meaning to?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  He pointed at the desk. It took me a moment to register what he meant, then the empty rectangle amid the speckled blood splatter stood out.

  “No way.” I moved closer, no longer disgusted by the gruesome scene. “What was that?”

  “I believe it was a box.” He pointed beneath the desk. “Look in the trash can.”

  I moved to the other side of the chair and peered in.

  “Chocolate wrappers.” I sucked in a breath. “You said the pencil didn’t kill her. But Coralee was eating my Dixie Delites. Dammit, if someone’s trying to frame me with my pencil, then why are they hiding my box of chocolates?”

  My witness statement over, I found a quiet corner to leave a sympathetic message for Pris, then headed for Halo House’s exit. Either myself or that apartment was jinxed. Belvia Brakeman’s suite was a revolving door for bodies. I didn’t know whether to be sad or horrified. Knowing Ron had an alibi for Della’s death, Coralee had been my prime suspect. And she had left this world with my pencil buried in her neck.

  What did that mean? Did the pencil stabber know it was my pencil or had it been a random pointy object grab? And if it was my Dixie Delites she’d been eating, why did the killer take the box?

  I had not acted quickly enough for Belvia and now had failed her surviving daughter. Even if I didn’t like Coralee—or thought she had murdered her mother—I should have done better. What did I know other than everybody and nobody had a motive? My tire tread was wearing thin from all the spinning. I’d focused on my brother and abandoned the Brakemans. Or I’d focused on the Brakemans and negle
cted my brother.

  Uncle Will would question the family and the rest of the Meemaw’s Tea personnel. But I also knew all would lawyer up. If the sheriff couldn’t find a smoking gun, how could I?

  I snuck past the front desk before Krenzer lodged a caffeine-fueled complaint about my latest police involvement. Before I made it to the door, Rosie stopped me. Actually, her shiny crimson leotard caught my eye. Mainly because the black tights and purple leg warmers drew attention to the leotard’s high cut. Who would want to exercise in a thong? For that matter, who would want to walk around in public in a thong?

  “Going to a dance class, Rosie?”

  “Hot yoga. I’m telling you, it brings in more men than the cooking classes.” Rosie smoothed her Lycra.

  I shook off the mental image of Halo House men watching Rosie hot yoga-ing in her thong-o-tard. “Point taken. Gotta go, Rosie.”

  “Wait, I’ve been looking for you. Remember how you asked me about Parker Brakeman-Newson?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She slipped me a piece of paper. “This may help.”

  I thanked her, hurried out the door, and checked the paper in my truck. I recognized the address as a Halo county road. It looked like I’d be meeting someone named Palmetto at six o’clock. Finally, a break. Even if it wouldn’t help the Brakemans or my brother, at least I’d find out why Parker was harassing Hazel. With Coralee’s murder, I’d almost put his prank call out of my mind. I couldn’t let him get away with threatening Ada.

  I hoped Palmetto was named for the tree and not the bug. Knowing Parker, Palmetto was likely a cockroach.

  Twenty-Six

  Back at my soon-to-be-not home, I found Todd moping before the TV. He had draped himself over the couch to watch a poker tournament. My mood darkened. Todd was the monkey wrench in my already overcomplicated life works. A showdown felt inevitable.