by Nora LeDuc
No, she wouldn’t leave Dahlia. She had to try and talk to her and learn who’d killed her. “I’m sure it’s all a sick joke. Maybe a teenager left me the hand and flower. My sister’s story was in all the papers and on TV.” Yes, that was reasonable. She felt better already.
“Does your answer mean you’re rejecting my offer?”
“I am. I’m not giving that creepy person the satisfaction of thinking he scared me over a couple of pieces of plastic. Besides, this type of gag sounds like a kid’s idea.”
“You’re aware of my professional opinion to the contrary.”
“I get it.”
“Then stay glued to your spot while I look around some more.” He dug out a mini flashlight and stole back into the empty restaurant.
Her nerves tightened and twanged. She didn’t like being alone after her new discovery. She skirted the doorway. “See anything?”
He moved closer to the restaurant’s main entryway and shone the light on the frame. “The lock was picked. Must be an amateur from the marks left. I can dust for prints after you’re upstairs.” He placed a gloved hand on the knob and gave it a twist. The door swung open with a creak of protest.
Rose crept forward. The musty odor followed her across the room. She swung a glance around the grimy dining area. A person could hide behind the long bar in the rear. A sick dread squeezed her chest as she inched toward the counter, and then, held her breath and peeked behind. A torn and dirty mattress lay on the floor. “A person’s living here,” she yelled. “I bet it’s the stalker who chased me. If you hadn’t shown up the other night…”
“Forgot how to stay in one place, Rose?” He was beside her in seconds. He flashed his light over the bedding. “The blanket probably belongs to a homeless person. The shelters close this time of year, but the nights are still cold. They search for cover wherever they can. It’s not unusual to find them in an unused or a deserted business like this one.” He rested his flashlight on the bar top. “When the weather warms up, they’ll camp down by the river. The bank is a mixture of teens seeking privacy and street people hanging out.”
“I hope you’re right.” A person who lived under the stars seemed harmless compared to a homicidal maniac hiding under her bedroom. “Though I’m not sure a street person living in a tent or makeshift house could afford to buy a plastic hand and a rose.”
“Stealing or finding them in the trash are possibilities. I’m calling in my men. We’ll work the restaurant. You need to leave.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her across the floor.
“Lennox, you must have been a bodyguard in another life. I like it.”
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Blue.” He released his grip in the hallway.
“Some stranger holed up underneath my apartment makes me crave my gun.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I won’t use it since I’ll be okay with you downstairs.”
“I want you to remain locked in your apartment the rest of the night. Don’t wander out. I’ll talk to Dean and find out if he knows anything about his uninvited guest.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of coming downstairs, and I don’t sleepwalk. I hope you find who left the gifts.” She headed upstairs with the detective ushering her from behind.
The sound of the main door slamming followed by shuffling footsteps sounded in the downstairs hall. Rose froze on the stairs. Lennox halted a step behind her.
Was her stalker brave enough to walk inside with law enforcement present? Had she deluded herself into believing he would stay hidden and away once he saw she wasn’t alone? Her hand went to her empty pocket. She turned around and faced the detective. “You have my gun,” she whispered.
“I know.” He made no move to retrieve it.
The footsteps grew louder. She braced herself, gripping the rail and fastened her attention on the figure jogging up the stairs. He raised his head, and his step slowed when he spotted them.
“It’s my neighbor.” She stopped clutching the banister. The young man slipped in and out of his apartment across the hall at all hours. He was about twenty, tall and wiry. As he drew closer, he shifted green eyes toward her and slid them away with a blink. His bandanna‒wrapped head bobbed an acknowledgement.
The guy was strange, no doubt about it. He always dressed in the same clothes: jeans held up by a black belt that appeared ready to fall off his slim body with one release of a belt hole. A gray jean jacket and a pair of scratched work boots topped off his ensemble. Around his neck, a cross hung from a chain and clunked against his chest with each step. The weight of the crucifix could easily tip him over. He was probably stronger than he appeared. The young man carried a boom box in his tattooed hand. His gaze landed on Lennox and flickered away.
He stopped two steps below Rose. “Did somethin’ happen?”
“You tell me,” Lennox said.
“I got nothin’.” He shrugged and pointed above. “Gotta go.”
The detective cut in front of him and held up his badge. “Remember me? I’m Detective Lennox. We spoke the other day about your former neighbor, Dahlia Blue.”
He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I hardly knew her. What’s up? Did another person die?”
“I’m here about a break-in. We found the connecting door open, and the closed restaurant’s locks picked. Have you seen any strangers entering or hanging around the building?”
“No.” He shot a glance toward the entry and back to Lennox.
“Any ideas who broke in?”
“Nope. But book ’em.” A grin spread across his face.
Lennox’s jaw tensed. “This is serious. A woman died. The moment you see anyone prowling around inside or out, you call me immediately. You have my number. Use it. Do you understand?”
“Right, I sp-eye.” He pointed to his eye with a grin that disappeared when Lennox glared at him. “I really gotta go now.”
Lennox stepped aside, and her neighbor thudded up the stairs.
“Does he resemble the man who ran after you?” Lennox asked Rose, watching the young man disappear into the upstairs hallway.
The question set free the quivering in her stomach. “No, why would he bother to chase me on Main Street when he lives across the hall and could catch me coming or going?”
She caught the flicker of disagreement as he raised one brow at her. “I don’t know much about him. We’ve never been introduced. I nicknamed him Bike Boy.”
“His name’s Todd Clark. He’s twenty years-old, works as a fast food cook and lived on the outskirts of Ledgeview with an aunt until about two months ago when he moved into this building. After Detective Conroy and I interviewed your Bike Boy, we paid the aunt a visit. She knows nothing is her story. Todd claims he only saw your sister twice. Both times, he passed her in the hall without speaking.”
“He could be lying.”
“I believe everyone’s lying until I find collaboration.” He held out his palm for her to continue upward.
“Distrust in a police detective is a reassuring trait,” she tossed over her shoulder. “No one will put something over on you.” She ran up the rest of the stairs energized by the lure of security. No newspaper article met her at her apartment doorway. What a relief.
Lennox insisted on checking inside before she entered.
She waited two minutes and then crossed her front door threshold. The odor from this morning’s toast greeted her as she walked inside.
He reappeared in the kitchen. “You were supposed to wait for the all-clear from me.”
“I feel safer inside the apartment. No monsters under the bed, I presume.”
“Do not open up for anyone and call me anytime. Got it?” He handed her the key. “Your weapon is on the counter. The safety is on. Put it away.”
“I will.”
“Good.” He turned to go.
Maybe she could delay him. “Lennox?”
He paused with his hand on the knob.
What
should she say? I want you to stay with me? Her mind went blank as he skimmed a gaze over her face.
“Rose?”
“Sorry, I wanted to say, thanks.”
“I’m—”
“You’re just doing your job. I know.” She shut the door and listened to the sound of his footsteps until they faded away. Detective Lennox would be easy to get used to having around. He was also great to look at, and his confidence added a sense of protection she lost when she was alone. At least he’d be nearby for a while. She paused, struck by her own foolishness. He was a policeman, not Superman. But what was the harm in a little fantasy? She needed a lift.
Not that he’d care about a woman who screamed when she found a plastic hand. She wasn’t off to the best start in Ledgeview.
Stepping into the small living room, she walked past the sofa and chair covered by tan throws and crossed to her sister’s pine bureau. Rose took out her silver chain with the butterfly pendant from the drawer. The small rubies decorating their wings winked in the light from the lamp.
Rose closed her eyes and felt the wet tears trickle down her cheeks. “I miss you, Dahlia. I prayed for you to come home.”
The day she’d confronted her sister at their store crashed into her memory. Dahlia had denied stealing from their store to Rose’s face. Rose had yanked off her butterfly chain and thrown it at Dahlia. “I can’t believe a word out of your mouth. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
Afterwards, Rose found the necklace on the floor where her sister let it fall.
If she’d never said those words to Dahlia, she’d still be alive. Rose wouldn’t be alone. With trembling fingers, she fastened the jewelry clasp around her throat. What had happened to her sister’s necklace? Unlike Rose, Dahlia never removed her favorite piece.
Rose studied the butterfly in the mirror above the chest. “I will find Dahlia’s killer. I won’t let him scare me away.”
Her image in the glass rippled and warped before suddenly clearing. “What—?”
She squinted at her likeness. Where was her jewelry? It was missing in the reflection. What was going on? She peered closer. A birthmark marked her chin in the mirror—Dahlia’s birthmark.
A cold sweat popped out on Rose’s forehead. With unsteady hands, she reached up toward her neck. The cold metal tip of the pendant against her fingertips told her the truth. She was wearing her necklace.
Her sister whispered, “We will be together. Soon.”
The memory of the night with Dahlia was fading too soon. The urge for more haunted each night and day. But no hunt was needed.
She was here in Ledgeview. She’d come to him. Perfect.
Now the nights were filled with visions of Rose and waking up in a sweat, hard, anxious, wanting her, longing for her pain.
Chapter 7
“A fan left the graffiti message, DEATH TO THE PIGS, under the station’s sign. Is he in solitary on bread and water yet?” Buddy Drown slouched against Luke’s cubicle wall. Dressed in jeans, leather boots and an open blue parka he seemed ready for spring skiing, not questioning in a homicide case.
“I missed the message. I came in the rear, but I’m sure a team member will canvass the area and remove our new ad right away.” Luke sidestepped to the door and called out to Conroy. Where was he?
“If you’re looking for that middle aged detective who’s always eating, I heard him tell someone he was going out.”
Great, Luke thought. Conroy was supposed to meet him this morning to plan their next step in the investigation. The man had skipped out.
Luke tamped down on his irritation and dug out his notepad from underneath the cold case files. “I’m surprised to see you so early. Have a seat.”
Buddy sat on the chair in front of the desk. “I came to do my civil service, and don’t worry about being assigned scrub duty. Some sublevel officer was cleaning off the graffiti when I arrived.” His eyes lit with amusement. “You looking for me to pay up on the bet I lost? To be fair, since you canceled watching the game at my house, I think you should forfeit your winnings. That’s the same as yelling uncle in the civilian world.”
“We have an old family saying, Bud. Work gets in the way when you want to play.” Lennox flashed back to late, last night. His men had canvassed the old Chinese Restaurant and then up at The Ledges searching for clues. The portable lights shone well into the late hours, but they’d come up with a big fat zero at both places.
“I bet you’re hoping I suffered a breakthrough and can remember an earth shattering clue in the death of that murdered woman.”
“You’re here because you can help me track Dahlia Blue’s movements. Think back. You arrived at the Audi on the first Thursday in March with the donated clothes. Where was Miss Blue when you first saw her?” He picked up the pen, ready to jot down notes.
“She was standing on the stage, waiting to talk to Myra who was ordering everyone around. I’d never seen the woman before so I was curious. She wasn’t the Audi type.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re frustrated thespians dying for a last chance on a stage. Miss Blue stood out.”
“How?”
“You’re serious? Okay, I can go with your Law and Order questions. For one thing, she had a life ahead of her that didn’t include a Medicare payment in her near future.”
“What did you say when you first met?”
“I said hello, told her my name and that I was delivering clothes. I explained about mom’s store, told her to drop by and mention we met. Tia would give her a deal.”
“You’re always the salesman.”
“I was taught by the best, my parents.”
“What happened next?”
“She said she was waiting for a job interview at the theater. I wished her good luck. Myra joined us and sent me to the basement. I left the donated clothes and never saw the Blue woman again. She didn’t stop at Mom’s either.”
“Did you send her to Dean’s real estate office for the apartment?”
“Nope, she told me she found his advertisement online. Do you want me to swear on a bible I spoke the truth, the whole truth and nothing but what you wanted?”
“We’ll skip that part today. If you think of anything else, let me know.”
Buddy rose.
“One more thing, Bud. I’m asking everyone who had contact with Miss Blue to give me a calendar of where they were from February 25th to March 11th.”
“Are you serious? I’m a person of interest because I said hello?”
“I want to rule you out.”
“Shauna keeps a calendar. Since I’m with her all the time, I’m sure she can clear me. Am I free to go?”
“You were always free.” Luke closed his notebook.
“Until the wedding and then I’ll be saying, anything you want, dear.” Buddy grinned and shoved away from the chair. “Wait until Shauna hears I’m a suspect in a murder case.”
“Skip the torture part, Bud.”
“The sleep deprivation was the worst.”
“That’s called staying up too late.”
“You should know.” Buddy shoved his hand in his pockets and left.
With his friend gone, Luke’s thoughts wandered to Rose. Her image from last night refused to leave his thoughts. Her full lips were pressed together, trying to hold back fear while she gripped a gun. He held the picture in his mind and focused on her mouth, imagined tasting her lips. A surge of anticipation rippled in his nerve endings.
He shook his head and released his daydream. Forget the flavor of any part of Rose Blue. He’d enough grief in his life. Don’t get involved with another woman and mess up your life. He’d keep his head down and do what he did best, solve cases. Still, as scared as she was, Rose had done what he’d asked. She stayed away from the evidence and called him immediately. He’d give her a gold star. That was until she seemed to get her second wind and started wandering around the old restaurant.
He blocked out the buzz of activity fl
oating over the cubicle walls of his office and returned to the online search he’d begun before Buddy’s arrival. First, he’d read about the psychic Jamison twins who’d become famous for world predictions, locating missing persons and solving homicide cases for the police.
They appeared legitimate. Maybe Rose was on the up and up. If she could help solve the murder of her sister, he was willing to listen.
Then he reviewed information on psychic ability. Articles confirmed many people didn’t develop their skills until they were adults.
At the sense of someone hovering, Luke spun his chair away from the computer. Over his shoulder, Conroy was reading his monitor.
Luke hit the sleep button. “You want to know what I’m doing? Show up for our meetings.”
“I’ve been working.” Conroy stood in front of his desk, his face pinched with tension. “Nothing’s turned up on the hunt for Dahlia Blue’s phone. Don’t know where she bought the prepaid her sister claimed she owned.” The detective’s onion breath hit Luke’s face.
“You came in for that? Where’s your written report?”
Conroy shrugged. “I’ll email you. What’s the plan for the divers? Without warmer temperatures, we’re done at the river.”
Luke fought the urge to ream out the other detective instead of discussing the case. His father always warned him impatience was his worse trait, but Conroy’s attempt to freeze him out of his own investigation needed to end.
“I expect you to show up on time for our meetings and then go to work.”
Conroy smoothed his face into a bland expression. “Whatever you say.”
Luke balled up a sheet of paper on his desk and threw it in the basket instead of at the other detective. “We’re done for now at the river. If we’d come up with a scrap of clothing or the victim’s necklace, I could validate continuing, but we didn’t.”
“Evidence of a weapon helps a homicide, too. I think the sister killed her twin” Conroy raised his head and glanced over the desk. “Do you have any donuts?”
