“Because third time can be the charm…or three strikes and you’re out. It depends on how you look at things. The way I see it, the fact that this is the third murder you’re somehow magically in the middle of is beyond coincidence. I’ve got you on my radar screen now, Miss Locke. And it’s not a pretty picture,” Captain Davis sneered.
“Fine. I can’t change your mind and I’m not going to try to. Why don’t we just skip the formalities? Take me down to the station and I’ll give you my statement.”
“Spoken like an old pro,” the cop chuckled wryly. “What a good idea. Let’s go down to the station.”
***
Two hours of barbeque skewering later, I dashed out of the police station and hopped on the highway. My destination? Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. During the course of my interrogation with Davis, I had learned that Ramiro’s last name was LasMontes. But all I knew of Dahlia was her first name and her intimidating beauty. If I could somehow track down Dahlia at the airport, then maybe I would be able to extract clues from her. The chances were slim that her flight hadn’t taken off yet, but who knows? Stray snowflakes were falling and plumes of fog were floating over the horizon. Maybe Dahlia’s flight had been delayed. It was worth a try as Davis believed the woman was merely a figment of my Gypsy imagination.
The airport had two busy terminals to choose from and I might as well have flipped a coin to pick which one to investigate first. If only Dahlia had mentioned where she was flying to! Most of the airport’s destinations were domestic, but there were also flights to exotic locales like Iceland and Japan. My gut told me that the woman was taking a domestic flight…unless she killed Ramiro and was trying to flee the country. The endless variables made my head spin like a jet propeller.
I must have looked more than a little wild-eyed as I scampered through the airport because a security guard detained me after less than five minutes of searching. The short, stocky fellow asked politely, “Are you lost, miss?”
“No, I’m just looking for someone,” I replied, glancing around in all directions for any sign of the black haired butterfly named Dahlia.
“Where are you traveling to?” He persisted.
“I’m not traveling. I told you, I’m looking for someone,” I replied impatiently.
“Well you’re not going to get very far in this airport without a ticket,” the security guard said firmly.
“Why? Oh, I’m not allowed past a certain point without a ticket, right? For security reasons?” To say I was a hometown girl would be a gross understatement. The only time I left Candlewick Falls was to visit my parents in Minneapolis or our old farmhouse in Starlight Crossing. I had never boarded a plane in my life, but I was aware of the strict security regulations.
“That’s correct. So I’d advise you to give that person a call rather than running around trying to find them.” The security guard politely tipped his hat in my direction and walked away.
Now what? My idea of finding Dahlia at the airport had clearly been both reckless and ridiculous. Even if her flight was grounded, I wouldn’t be able to track her down at the gate. My best recourse was to do some independent “research” (aka snooping) and find out exactly who the mysterious Dahlia really was.
***
Trudging through the door of Espresso Magic, my heart was like a low hanging storm cloud. The snow had begun to fall in earnest as I drove away from the airport, rapidly transforming into blizzard-like conditions with close to zero visibility.
“Marisa! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you!” Penelope cried, rushing to the door to embrace me.
“And we called you on your cell phone, but you didn’t answer,” Mrs. Dollner scolded, setting a cup of lemon-wedged tea on the table.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t check my phone.”
“Where were you all this time?” Penelope demanded.
“At the airport…”
“Airport?!” My sister exclaimed. “What on earth were you doing there? And in the middle of a blizzard?”
“Long story,” I gulped as glassy tears painted my cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Marisa? What happened?” Penelope asked, squeezing both my hands in hers.
“Ramiro’s dead. I found him.” The words merged with my tears as Penelope and Mrs. Dollner gasped simultaneously.
Painfully, I relayed the entire story to them as they listened sympathetically, both flaring up with anger when I got to the part about the Captain’s callous treatment of me. “What is wrong with that man?” Penelope raged. “How many hoops does he want us to jump through before he takes us seriously and doesn’t think of us as witches?!”
I shrugged, not caring so much about the Captain’s opinion of me but about his power to put me in jail. “I can’t change the man’s opinion of me. What I need to do is figure out who Dahlia is. She might hold the key to Ramiro’s murder. Actually, she might hold the weapon to Ramiro’s murder!”
“Dahlia is such an evil name,” Mrs. Dollner said scornfully.
“Evil? Isn’t a dahlia a type of flower?” Penelope asked innocently.
“Yes, but the dahlia is a warning of betrayal. It’s an evil flower,” she declared with a shudder. “And my guess is that Dahlia is an evil woman too!”
Chapter 4
Shuddering, I thought how Mrs. Dollner’s instincts about Dahlia matched my own. There was something wicked in the woman’s beauty that would haunt me until I found out its origin. Without knowing Dahlia’s last name or any other personal details about the stunner, I could only hope that the answer would swim upstream inside my coffee cup. And the sooner the better.
As my face crinkled in consternation, the door to the café opened and an attractive woman entered. Pulling off her petal pink skull cap, she wrung out her snow-covered curls and stomped wet boots on the welcome mat. Somewhere in her mid forties, the woman exuded a youthful glow that emanated from a smiling face.
“I hope she’s not here about the apartment,” Penelope whispered. “She’s too old to be my roommate.”
“Shhhh!” I hissed, hoping the potential customer hadn’t heard.
Mrs. Dollner looked aghast. “Too old?” She balked, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Penelope began as I rolled my eyes and hurried to greet the visitor.
“Hi. Welcome to Espresso Magic. How may I help you?” I polished my tone with as much professionalism as I could muster.
“Are you here about the apartment?” Penelope asked rudely as I grimaced at her.
“Apartment?” The woman asked blankly, loosening the cashmere scarf around her neck. “No, I just wanted a cup of coffee. It’s such a chilly day.”
“Coming right up,” I said quickly, eager to please the customer.
“Give me a medium decaf, please,” the woman requested as I nodded and prepared her order.
“To go?” I guessed.
“No, let me have a seat if that’s okay. I don’t want to get back on the road in this weather,” she said, seating herself at a round table adjacent to Mrs. Dollner and Penelope.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” Mrs. Dollner asked curiously, peering into the woman’s china blue eyes. “Don’t you go for walks in the forest?”
“No, I don’t,” the woman answered politely. “My job keeps me too busy for leisurely strolls,” she sighed wistfully.
“Are you sure we didn’t meet one day outside my cottage? And have a chat? Isn’t your name Nancy?” Mrs. Dollner pressed as the stranger’s confusion deepened.
“My name is not Nancy, and I’m not here about an apartment,” she said tensely. “I’m Katrina.”
Clearly feeling foolish, Mrs. Dollner joked, “Oh, well Nancy and Katrina sound so similar. You can understand why I made the mistake!”
The old sweetheart’s joke elicited a slight giggle from Katrina. “Of course I understand,” she said kindly.
As I reached for a designer mug, Katrina held up her h
and and rose from the table. “On second thought, let me take that coffee to go. It’s going to take me longer than usual to get back to the office in this weather.”
“Sure, no problem,” I replied, setting the mug down and grabbing a cardboard cup instead. Spontaneously reaching for a fudge croissant, I added, “Take this on the house. It will go well with the coffee.”
“Thank you so much!” Katrina exclaimed. “You ladies are very sweet. I’ll definitely be back.”
We watched as Katrina swept into her silver Jeep and slowly backed out of the parking lot. Her wheels spun a few times in the ever-deepening snow as she battled with the steering wheel to get the vehicle onto the road. Finally, she maneuvered the SUV onto the street but not before skidding and climbing the curb with her right side tires.
“I hope she’ll be okay,” I murmured. The storm was becoming treacherous, even by Minnesota standards.
“Yeah, me too,” Penelope agreed.
“Okay, back to our investigating,” Mrs. Dollner ordered, rubbing her hands together ardently.
“Trying to build a fire or just excited about the latest mystery?” I asked wryly as Mrs. Dollner appeared crestfallen.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry. I’m being so crass, aren’t I? The young man you fancied has been murdered and I’m treating it like a game!”
“It’s okay. I could use your enthusiasm right now,” I said gently. “I really do need your help. Both of you.” I glanced meaningfully at my sister.
“Captain Davis isn’t going to arrest you! He can’t!” Penelope said stridently.
“Of course he can. He just needs to gather enough incriminating evidence against me. And he already has a great head start since I’m the one who found Ramiro dead!” I buried my hand between the cradle of my hands, never having felt so desperate to solve a mystery.
“I feel like we don’t have much to work with this time,” Penelope mused glumly. “All you saw in the coffee was a spot of blood and a sewing needle?”
“That’s right. But I didn’t even see one spot of blood on Ramiro’s body. And there definitely wasn’t any sewing needle lying around. So I have no idea how to interpret those clues,” I stated in defeat.
“Let’s start with Dahlia,” Mrs. Dollner suggested. “Can’t you girls do some computer research on her?”
“We could if I knew her last name!” I replied crisply.
“Actually, we might not need her last name,” Penelope persuaded. “Dahlia isn’t a very common first name. Especially around here. Maybe if we just did a key word search for her first name plus Candlewick Falls, then we could find something!”
Penelope scooted to the back office and returned with a tablet computer. Eagerly powering up the machine, she didn’t bother to wait for my response. “I think it’s a long shot,” I said as my sister ignored my pessimism and furiously tapped the keyboard.
“Do you have a better idea?” She asked.
“You mean like chasing Dahlia to the airport?” I snorted with self-deprecating humor.
“Exactly,” Penelope sighed with satisfaction. “Let’s see here…”
“Computers are amazing,” Mrs. Dollner remarked off handedly. “My great grandson tried to show me how to use email, but it was so complicated! I need an address and a password. Ugh! And who would I email with anyway? Maybe you girls! Can you give me your email…”
Penelope interrupted Mrs. Dollner’s tangent. “Hang on a sec, Mrs. Dollner. I think I just found something crucial.” Handing me the tablet, she asked, “Is that Dahlia?”
One look at the sensual woman with hair and eyes as deep as burning coal and I knew it was her. “Yes, that’s Dahlia! That’s the woman I saw. What does it say about her?”
“Are you blind, Marisa? Can’t you see that’s a mug shot?” Penelope chastised as my eyes widened with shock.
“Mug shot?! What was she arrested for?” I burst out.
“I told you that Dahlia is an evil name,” Mrs. Dollner said triumphantly. “Like a poisonous flower.”
Penelope clicked on the article attached to the photo and scrolled down as I read aloud:
Dahlia Marion of Starlight Crossing was arrested early Sunday morning on charges of burglary. Police apprehended Ms. Marion at 1:56 am as she was leaving a local apothecary. Ms. Marion is accused of stealing more than $500 from the apothecary’s cash register. No merchandise was taken. Ms. Marion was discovered to be under the influence at the time of her arrest. This is Dahlia Marion’s second arrest. Her prior offense was another burglary and DUI this past summer in Candlewick Falls.
“She’s a hardened criminal!” Mrs. Dollner declared.
“She’s not a hardened criminal. She’s an alcoholic,” I corrected. “People do crazy things when they’re drunk. Why else would she rob an apothecary? I don’t think she needed the money. She was dressed in an expensive coat and high heels when I saw her this morning,” I explained.
“Why are you defending her?” Penelope demanded.
“I’m not defending her! I’m just being reasonable.”
“What’s the date on this article?” Mrs. Dollner asked.
“December 21st,” Penelope answered. “That was just a few weeks ago!”
“Burglary a few weeks ago and murder today,” Mrs. Dollner said in a sinister whisper.
“It’s a big leap from burglary to homicide, don’t you think?” I argued. “If she stole money on December 21st, maybe she just needed some extra cash for Christmas. I’m not saying she’s an angel, but murderer?”
“You’re the one who was so suspicious about Dahlia!” Penelope exclaimed with exasperation.
“I know. But I don’t want to treat her the way Captain Davis is treating me. I don’t want to assume anything unless we know for sure,” I said equitably.
“I think you’re being too generous,” Penelope insisted. “You don’t have a rap sheet, so Davis has no right to treat you like a criminal! But this woman really is a criminal with two prior arrests!” Penelope took a thoughtful pause before ruminating, “Hey, how do you think she was able to get on a plane if she was charged with burglary just a few weeks ago? Do you really think that the case has been resolved already?”
“She’s running away from the deed she committed!” Mrs. Dollner ranted. “Like Lady MacBeth, she can cry ‘out damned spot’ all she wants! But the blood will remain on her hands!”
“There was no blood,” I reminded, but Mrs. Dollner the drama queen was too carried away to listen.
“Does that computer tell you where Dahlia lives?” Our elderly snoop asked.
“Let me check,” Penelope said, switching windows and opening up a database of private information.
“Wherever she lives, we can’t risk driving there today in the storm,” I asserted.
“But soon!” Mrs. Dollner said excitedly. “What did you find, dear?”
“I’m still searching…” Penelope’s voice trailed off on a breathless gasp.
“What? What did you find?” I queried as she positioned the tablet in front of my face.
My stomach felt ill as I read the address: 470 Mill Valley Road, Starlight Crossing, Minnesota. “This can’t be possible,” I whispered gravely. “Her address is right next door to Locke Dairy Farm!”
“You mean the farm where you girls grew up?” Mrs. Dollner gulped ominously as I nodded in disbelief. “Looks like this dahlia has tentacles!”
Chapter 5
“How is it possible that Dahlia lives next door to Mom and Dad’s farm? I had never seen her before in my life until today.” I shook my head in awe.
“Well, we haven’t lived there in years, Marisa,” my sister replied. “Maybe Dahlia just moved in recently.”
“But we were all at the farm for Thanksgiving! Wouldn’t we have noticed her?” I marveled.
“Why? She’s not that beautiful!” Penelope scoffed. “Besides, we were dealing with a murder that day! Or did you forget?”
“Of course I didn’t forget!” I said harshly. “
It’s just bizarre…”
“It’s more than a coincidence,” Mrs. Dollner asserted.
“But I don’t understand the connection,” I murmured.
“We’ll just have to figure it out,” Penelope said with a vigorous nod of her head. “After the snow stops falling. Maybe we could all take a ride down to the farmhouse tomorrow after closing the shop.”
“Or we could go tonight if the snow stops and the plows clear the roads,” Mrs. Dollner said hopefully.
“You two could go, but I can’t. I’m meeting that girl Grace at my apartment, remember?” Penelope said on a note of dread.
“Oh yes! Where is my memory going? First, I mistake that customer for someone else and now this! You’d think I was 82 years old or something!” Mrs. Dollner winked impishly at us.
“You are 82 years old,” Penelope said, not getting the joke.
“Yes dear, I certainly am,” Mrs. Dollner sighed. “Okay, so it’s settled. We’ll wait until tomorrow at dusk and then we’ll all drive over to Dahlia’s lair! Let’s just hope the black widow doesn’t trap us in her silken spider web.”
***
The next day dawned clear, blue, and mild as chunks of snow melted under the brilliant sun. Puddles formed on the roads and sidewalks as cracking, dripping icicles made for perilous possibilities. Penelope and I mopped the floors and counted the day’s earnings while I stole a bite of an unsold oatmeal raisin cookie.
“Hey,” I mumbled between bites of the cinnamon-infused cookie. “You never said anything about how your meeting with Grace went last night.”
“That’s because she didn’t show up,” Penelope answered brusquely, locking up the cash register.
“Really? Well I guess that’s one less thing you need to worry about, then,” I remarked, grabbing a second oatmeal cookie and digging in.
“It’s so rude, though. I mean she didn’t even call or email to cancel,” Penelope complained.
“Who cares? She did you a favor by not showing up. Besides, the weather was so bad, she probably assumed you would understand why she didn’t come.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the principle,” Penelope insisted.
Small Town Spooky (Cozy Mystery Anthology) Page 18
