“You told me everything?” he prodded, his eyes boring into hers.
She nodded, still looking like Bambi after his mother died.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag with a small vial in it. “You didn’t tell me about this,” he said, dropping the baggie onto the coffee table.
Gingham paled visibly. “I…I don’t know what that is…” she stammered.
“Really?” Chas raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting, because it has your fingerprints all over it.”
He stared at the rising star, staying quiet, waiting for her to speak. Her mouth fell open, she looked as though she was about to say something, then she shut it again, simply staring back at the detective, the innocent look absent from her eyes.
“The syringe that was found under your bed also has your fingerprints all over it. I’m thinking that somehow, that’s not just a coincidence,” he spoke, realizing that she wasn’t going to answer him.
“I’m diabetic,” she mumbled, her eyes dropping.
“No, you’re not, Gingham. I know that as well as you do. Do you want to save my lab guys some time and tell me what was in the vial and the syringe?” he asked calmly.
“Snake venom,” she whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she refused to look at Chas.
“You used snake venom to kill Carter?” No answer.
“Where did you get it?” the detective probed.
“From Elgin,” was the murmured reply, as Gingham twisted her fingers in her lap.
“Elgin Hansen?”
The music star nodded miserably, unable to bring herself to meet the detective’s stare.
“How did you inject Carter with the venom? He’s considerably bigger than you.”
“I use tranquilizers to help me sleep. When we all went upstairs, I put one of them that I had crushed into powder in his drink, and pretended to do a tequila shot with him. He drank his, I threw mine out and waited for him to pass out. When he did, I…” she trailed off, unable to admit out loud that she had killed her manager.
“You injected him?” Chas prompted.
Again, Gingham nodded, not looking up as her tears splashed down onto the skirt of her sundress.
“Why?”
“Elgin made me do it. He said that if I didn’t, he’d kill me and Carter both,” she glanced up finally, the Bambi look back in her eyes.
“Would it surprise you if I told you that that’s not the story that we got from him?” Chas asked dryly.
“He’s a liar,” she whispered, dropping her gaze again.
“Well, clearly someone is lying here, but we have a whole lot of evidence that points directly to you, not Elgin Hansen. I’ll ask you again, Gingham, why did you kill Carter?” Chas leaned back on the sofa, determined to wait for an answer.
That single question caused a dramatic change in the young woman’s demeanor. Her tears stopped instantly, and she raised her head, her eyes gone entirely black with fury.
“He wanted to ruin me,” she snarled through her teeth, voice shaking with emotion.
Taken aback by her reaction, but determined not to show it, Chas continued to hold her gaze.
“Tell me about that. What was he trying to do to you?” he asked, allowing her to think that there was a chance that she could garner his sympathy.
“I came from humble roots, okay?” she crossed her arms defensively across her middle.
“Elgin and I went to school together in the same small town in Kansas, but he was loyal. He kept my secrets. When Carter wanted more than a business relationship with me and I told him no, he threatened to talk about my family to the media. I couldn’t let him do that. I saw him flirting with this big-city magazine writer at my last concert, and he gave me this look, and I knew what it meant,” she spat bitterly.
“What secrets was he threatening to expose, Gingham?” Chas asked quietly, hoping that she’d continue to think that he might be on her side.
The ever-observant detective noted that, as she revealed more and more of the truth, her posture sagged, her tone became harsh and bitter, and there was a pronounced country twang in her speech that hadn’t been there previously. It seemed that the young singer’s entire persona had been put on and specifically designed for wide-spread public appeal, and it was only now, under extreme stress, that the true Gingham Grant was showing herself.
She stared at Chas bitterly, her tears stemming from anger now, rather than pain or fear.
“You don’t know what it’s like growing up like I grew up,” she spat. “My daddy was a drunk and my mama paid for food any way that she could,” she gave him a pointed look.
The detective met her gaze squarely and without judgment, waiting for her to continue.
“Are you shocked? Does it throw you off that “America’s Country Music Sweetheart,” ain’t nothin’ but trailer trash from Kansas, who got…” she cut off her sentence abruptly, dropping her gaze to the floor, and setting her jaw.
“Who got…what? What happened to you Gingham?” Chas asked quietly.
Her lower lip trembled, and she ground her teeth together to make it stop. “Nothin. Ain’t nothin happened to me,” she husked, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I ain’t sayin no more,” she shook her head. “Take me to jail now, I’m done.”
She squared her shoulders and stared straight ahead, the pain rolling off of her in waves that felt almost tangible. She didn’t show any other sign of emotion until she stood up and Chas put handcuffs on her. When she turned around, she saw Spencer, standing in the doorway, his face an impassive mask.
“Oh gosh…Spencer…I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her tears starting again.
A muscle in the Marine’s jaw twitched, and he turned without a word and walked away.
Chapter 18
“Well, that was an unexpected turn of events,” Echo mused, sitting across from Missy and Kel at the cupcake shop.
“Yeah, I never would have dreamed that that sweet, beautiful girl was a cold-blooded killer,” Missy shook her head.
“It’s fortunate that the information that we provided gave Chas enough information to question her in a way that made him sound like he already had talked to Elgin Hansen and knew everything,” Kel added.
“Was he arrested too?” Echo asked.
Missy nodded. “He turned himself in to the authorities in Kansas. He probably won’t get as much jail time as Gingham, but it doesn’t look good for him either.”
She ticked the young man’s offenses off on her fingers. “He stole venom from a project at the university, as well as the snake that was in Gingham’s bed; he gave her the venom knowing that she was going to use it to harm Carter, and he violated the terms of the restraining order against him, by having direct contact with Gingham, even if she allowed it.”
“Why on earth did he put the snake in Gingham’s bed if he was in on the plot to kill Carter?” Kel wondered.
“To make Gingham look innocent. They planned to frame Joey for the murder if it was discovered, otherwise, they were going to allow everyone to think that Carter had either overdosed or somehow ingested poison. They never dreamed that anyone would suspect Gingham Grant – she had too much to lose.”
Echo shook her head. “How awful. How come the two of them were so close anyway? Was the stalker thing just made up?”
“Yes, they concocted the stalker story after Elgin was caught in Gingham’s living room one night. He was there with her permission, but it wouldn’t look good to her fans if she had a man staying in her house, so they covered it with a story. Chas found out last night that Elgin is actually her half-brother, but she couldn’t admit that because it would point out who her father actually was, and she didn’t want the embarrassment.”
“Wow, it all just makes my head spin,” Echo remarked with a sigh. “How’s Spencer handling all of this? I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet, but I know that he thought pretty highly of her.”
Missy made a fac
e. “Poor guy. He’s been really quiet, and seems sad. I know he must be hurt that she was nothing that she pretended to be. I don’t know what, if anything, happened between the two of them, but I think he’s really disillusioned right about now.”
“Well, I’ll have to put him to work fixing up my store. I should be able to talk to him while we work, so we’ll know that he’s okay, poor thing,” Echo replied.
“Here he comes,” Kel whispered, looking out the window and seeing the Marine approach.
“Hey Spence,” Missy greeted him a bit too brightly when he opened the door.
“Mornin’ ma’am,” he said, without even a ghost of his usual smile. “Do you mind if I take today off. I have some things that I’d like to take care of.”
“Of course, sweetie, by all means. Do what you need to do.”
“Thank you,” he said, and with a nod to Echo and Kel, he was gone.
Chapter 19
The warmth of the Florida sun on his face held no charm for Spencer today, as he drove for miles. He was compelled by something far from logic to go to a place that held special significance for him, and the compulsion was too powerful to resist. A darkness that he hadn’t felt in quite some time had descended upon him like a cloak of death, choking out the spark that kept him calibrated, which allowed him to at least pretend to be like everyone else. Demons and ghosts of the past rose up within him, reminding him of things that he should never have seen, accusing him over things he never should have had to do, and the hole inside, where his heart should have been, felt like a gaping wound.
For someone who felt as though he were numb to all emotion and sensation, the Marine had no idea that tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, wetting his face and the front of his t-shirt. His hands gripped the steering wheel of the car tightly, his knuckles white, and it was miraculous that he made it to his destination in one piece, because his thoughts were far from what was happening on the road around him.
His vision swam with blood, and suffering and death, and his conscience ached, despite the fact that he had only ever done what he’d been specifically ordered to do. Some guys came out of it okay, some seemed to have no cares in the world, and no qualms at all about doing what had to be done, but Spencer had always been different. He’d been the one who felt the pain of the oppressed while causing pain to the oppressor, and he’d never forgotten the lives touched, and the lives lost.
He pulled his car onto the dirt road, driving it as far as he could, until the road came to an end. Getting out slowly, he thought for a moment, then tossed the keys onto the driver’s seat and headed into the swamp at a dead run, punishing his body in the midday heat, his muscles working, lungs burning as he breathed like a freight train, harsh and deep.
In less than an hour, the cabin came into view, and Spencer’s frantic dash slowed to a walk. He stopped for a moment, bent double, his stomach convulsing as he dry-heaved from the exertion. His throat burned, begging for water, but he ignored his thirst, his eyes on his destination.
The cabin was in exactly the same condition as the last time that he’d been there. The one person in the world that he’d run into who understood exactly what he was going through, had tidied it up, leaving it in far better shape than he’d found it.
Janssen had been a man of few words, whose experiences in Afghanistan and beyond had rendered him unable to re-assimilate into polite society. He lived off of the land, needing nothing and no one, keeping himself alive and out of sight, and doing the right thing when he could do so anonymously. Spencer had counted on him, and he’d delivered, and when the real world came too close, he disappeared without a trace, leaving behind a fellow Marine who knew all too well what it was like to have seen too much.
It only seemed fitting to Spencer that when he felt the need to disappear, to deal with his pain in solitude and with finality, that he should come here, to the place that had been his touchstone with Janssen. Collapsing onto the porch, he leaned back against the rough-hewn siding, in the spot where he used to sit when the two veterans would drink beer together to celebrate a win for the good guys. His inner darkness overwhelmed him again, and he dropped his head into his hands, wishing that it would just explode and be done with it.
No tears flowed. He had nothing more within him, his broken spirit and punishing run had seen to that, so he just sat, head in hands, trying to make the world go away. Even when a shadow fell across him, he was completely unaware, shrouded in grief. He’d let his guard down so entirely, that, had the shadow belonged to his enemy, he’d have perished on the spot.
Spencer nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice from above commented, “You look like a man who could use a cold beer.”
The man was backlit by the setting sun, making his features indistinguishable, even when the Marine raised his arm to shield his eyes, but he would know that voice anywhere.
“Janssen,” he croaked, his parched throat making speech nearly impossible. Spencer shot to his feet and hugged his fellow sufferer fiercely, his overwhelming emotions overriding his tendency to hide.
“We all think about it, brother,” the grizzled young vet said after a moment, looking him dead in the eye. “But there’s work to be done, my man.”
He handed Spencer a beer and kicked back on the porch steps like he’d never left, watching the sun sink below the horizon.
“You might need these,” half of his mouth quirked upward in a smile, and he tossed Spencer’s keys at him.
The Marine caught them in the air and nodded. “Probably so.”
The two drank together silently for a while.
“What brought you back?” Spencer asked, not really expecting an answer.
Janssen surprised him. “Saw you on the news, saving that country girl’s life at a concert,” he replied, taking a long pull on his beer.
“Did you see the other article about that same girl a couple of days ago?” Spencer asked, spinning his bottle cap to avoid Janssen’s eyes.
“That’s why I’m here, man. When you scooped up that chick and kept her safe, I saw you looking at her like she could drive the darkness away. I knew that when you found out that her darkness was bigger than yours, it wouldn’t set well with you…so here I am,” he shrugged. “Looks like it was just in time too,” he remarked.
Spencer swallowed hard, nodding rather than speaking, and Janssen let it go at that.
Chapter 20
Spencer climbed down from the ladder, set the paint roller in its tray, and surveyed his work, hands on hips. Hearing a delighted squeal, he turned to see Echo power-walking toward him, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, Spence, that looks amazing!” she exclaimed, hugging him.
The Marine had spent the last few days painting the entire interior of her new candle shop, filling the place with happy and serene colors.
“You picked the colors,” he reminded her with a smile. “I just did the grunt work.”
“This is so exciting,” she practically jumped up and down. “We should be able to open next week.”
“I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he promised, tapping the lid onto the dregs of paint that remained in the can.
“Spence…can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, sobering.
“If I say no, will that actually stop you?” he teased with a wicked grin.
“Oh, you!” she swatted at him in mock-anger. “Stop it, I’m serious,” she chided, taking his hand.
“Fine,” he sighed, shaking his head good-naturedly.
“Look, I…I don’t know what you were going through last week, after…well, you know, but I want you to know that I’ve had some pretty dark times in my past. Times when I thought that all was lost, and when I nearly gave up on hope and humanity, and I want you to know…” she stopped and swallowed, her lovely green eyes flooding with tears.
“I want you to know that you’re very special to me. You’ve gotten me through some rough times, and I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she squee
zed his hand, entirely unashamed of the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.
“I’m here for you, Spencer. Always. No judgment, no conditions, whatever you need, just ask, okay?” she asked, wrapping him in a hug.
The Marine couldn’t answer, but that was okay, he didn’t need to. Echo held him tight, and he allowed her to.
Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved
A letter from the Author
To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!
I’ll be releasing another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books and other fancy stuff) Join my Book club.
Stay Curious,
Summer Prescott
Apple Crisp Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 30 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 6
