by Nora LeDuc
He hopped out of the vehicle and hustled around to the passenger side. She shook her head over his archaic, but charming manners, and walked beside him to the front steps. They paused on the top stair while he rang the doorbell. In the yard, patches of snow lay on the brown grass.
“Nothing’s blooming yet,” she whispered. “Guess I won’t be able to sweet talk him with flowery speeches.”
The door opened and Frank Ricci stood in front of them in his rolled up, brown flannel shirt sleeves. He appeared about fifty pounds overweight, but the mass fit the persona of a man who’d be more at home in a wrestling ring than a garden.
“Hey, Luke, you came back home. Too bad, it only took a recent homicide.”
“Frank, thanks for seeing me today.”
“I just finished combing my hair before I answered the door.” He ran his hand over his shiny, bald head. His face glowed as he turned to Rose. “Going to introduce me to the beautiful woman by your side?”
“This is Miss Rose Blue.”
She held out her hand, and Frank gave her a firm shake.
“Her sister, Dahlia, is the one I wanted to discuss with you,” Lennox added.
Frank’s light brown eyes widened. “Miss Blue, I apologize about the homicide crack. I didn’t mean anything personal, ya know. Sometimes my mouth is faster than the old brain.”
“Please call me Rose, Mr. Ricci. I understand a slip of the tongue. Besides, Detective Lennox speaks highly of you.”
“You can drop by any time, even without the detective.” He winked. “You’d better call me Frank. Come on inside. We’re letting in a draft.”
Lennox raised his paper bag. “I brought a little hair of the dog for the host.”
Frank opened the door wider. “You can come in, too, since you brought the bottle. My cat’s already in hiding. He doesn’t like company and maintains a sixth sense about people showing up. I think he’s smarter than the whole Ledgeview Police Force.”
“Isn’t the superstition that cats enjoy nine lives, not a sixth sense?” Lennox asked and followed Rose into the hall. “But I’ll let that one pass along with the crack about the department since I’m feeling generous today.”
“Six or nine, it makes no difference to me.”
“My grandmother’s allergy prevented us from having animals.” Rose volunteered.
“You can always count on a pet to be there for you when others fail,” Frank announced, locking his door. “I heard the guys aren’t happy you’re back, Luke. One half spouts off you’re in Ledgeview to boast how you were a big shot detective in New York. The other half complains the chief hired you because he liked your old man.”
She tensed and waited for Lennox’s reaction.
“People say nepotism is the next best thing to twist off beer caps. What can I say about New York? I learned a lot at my last job. I left home when I was young and hungry to take on the world, and you don’t always see what’s in front of you.”
“Agree. Sometimes we take a detour. Just prove to the guys what you can do.”
“Are you going to let us sit down or keep us standing around while you flatter me?”
“Go ahead. You know the way.”
Lennox nudged Rose toward the adjoining doorway.
“Flattery, criticism, sometimes it’s hard to recognize the difference. Miss Blue, don’t take our words seriously,” Frank said as they walked into the next room. “I’ve known this young man forever. He’s the best.” Frank clapped a hand across Lennox’s back. “I’d risk my life for him or his father. God bless him.”
“Dad felt the same about you, Frank.”
“Detective Lennox must appreciate your support.” Rose walked into a rectangular room and stopped.
“We’re all part of a family.” The older man stopped near a pair of barrel chairs and a matching tan sofa.
A magazine featuring pictures of various size guns on the cover lay on a cushion. An old box style TV stood at the head of the room, and newspapers were spread across the coffee table.
“Bought a few new items for the war games?” Lennox asked.
She sent a searching gaze over the man’s toys. An array of horses and cavalry figurines sat on top of the papers. An open set of paints and two brushes rested near the figures. The odor of paint tainted the air. What was going on?
Frank shoved the magazine to the side and capped the jars. “I expanded my army and won a few battles.”
“Frank has a regular night for his war games in his basement where he sets up the battlefields,” Lennox explained to her.
“Oh, nice, I guess.” Was his activity normal for a retired detective? “And people come and move their plastic men around a miniature battlefield?”
“You got it, Rosie, my love.” Frank winked. “Keeps the mind sharp, thinking of lines of attack to beat your opponent. And I’ll let you in on a tip. I’m favored to win the Battle of Gettysburg next week. But enough about me. What’s happening in your world, Luke?”
“Frank,” she interrupted. “Detective Lennox told me you’re the best investigator in Ledgeview, but unfortunately, you’re not working any longer, which might explain why the police can’t solve my sister’s case.”
“Don’t discount Luke. His father taught him. Truth, our city has plenty of good men working on the force, but they can get stuck on the wrong track. I’m honored you think highly of me.” He touched his hand to his chest. “Luke, she’s bright and a head turner with that pretty face. Why are you guys still standing? Sit down, or do you want to run out the door?” Lennox gestured for Rose to sit on the sofa and then sank down beside her.
Frank opened a drawer in the coffee table and pulled out a shot glass. He poured himself a drink from his gift bottle and set the glass on the newspapers.
“Detective Lennox told me you hear the local buzz,” she said to Frank. “Have you heard anything unusual or memorable in my sister’s case?”
“Sure, people are quick to point at the weird guy on the block or the strange kid from their school days. Myself, I’d study the usual names in the data base. You did that, right?”
“Yeah, past history of sexual and or violent crimes, done and no leads.”
“Do you have any ideas, Frank?” she asked.
“Luke’s school pal comes to mind.”
“Come on, Frank.” Lennox ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Buddy’s never been convicted of a crime.”
Buddy? Did they mean Dean Drown’s son? A wave of shock hit her.
“Cause his daddy paid off the victim. He operates by his own set of rules.”
“Frank, be honest. The girl lied and said she was the age of consent when she met Buddy. Even her father admitted she looked seventeen or eighteen when the officer interviewed him. The case of statutory rape was bogus from the start.”
“Are you talking about Buddy Drown?”
Frank shook his head. “Something is wrong with that kid. He takes after his dad.”
“You mean my landlord? What’s wrong with Dean Drown?”
“Nothing,” Lennox interjected. “Dean is his stepfather. He adopted Buddy when he was eleven. Buddy’s mom, Tia, married a loser the first time. Buddy is nothing like his biological dad. He’d never beat a woman. I’ve seen him with his mother and girlfriends. Besides, Buddy’s girlfriend emailed me a copy of their daily calendar for the dates Dahlia was missing. Buddy was at work or with Shauna. We’re in the process of double checking each alibi like we do with everyone else we interview. So far, his life is about wedding cake samples and working at his father’s real estate office.”
Frank held up his glass. “Luke, you’ve a soft spot for the Drown kid because he took your side against those school kids who were trying to beat you up. Though I think Buddy was just showing off. He’s the one I’d investigate, but I’ll say no more about him.” Frank set down his glass and rested his arms on his knees.
Rose managed to shove her alarm to the corner of her mind and ask her big question. “When you
worked as a detective, Frank, did you ever use a medium, a person who could communicate with the dead?”
“You mean one of those fortune tellers?” He shook his head several times. “I couldn’t take the chance. If you made an arrest based on their predictions, you still had to convince thirteen men and women on a jury that you’re not talking mumbo jumbo. It’s too big a risk for a man with brains.” He eased back against the barrel chair. “Luke understands.”
She threw Lennox a glance and worked to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, “Does he?”
“You were Dad’s partner,” Lennox said without betraying an emotion. “I trust your opinion, except about Buddy.”
“What’s the next step, Frank?” she asked.
“Luke has lots of hours of foot and legwork ahead of him. I heard Sluggo headed across the border to meet with the cops in Brattleboro before he left our city and came up with nothing. He was working under the theory the murderer followed your sister to Ledgeview from Vermont. It’s easier than admitting you’re missing a killer who’s in your hometown and under your nose.”
“I’m not sure if your words are comforting.” She clenched her hands and then relaxed them. “Who’s Sluggo, Lennox?”
“The detective I was hired to replace in Ledgeview.”
“Didn’t he take another job?’
“That’s his spin,” Frank put in. “He hit the road before they threw him out.”
“Charming,” she muttered.
“I could use a person with your experience to bounce ideas off,” Lennox admitted. “Are you interested?”
Frank shook his head, and his mouth twisted several times as though he kept changing his mind. Finally he answered, “I’m done with police work. I’m retired. The Chief was a little too happy to roast me at my retirement party and wouldn’t like hearing I’m butting into a case.”
“I’m just asking since Dad’s not here. You’re−”
“Geezum, you’re hitting low.” The corner of Frank’s mouth sloped downward.
“I was going to say you’re the best, next to Dad.”
“You should run the ideas past your partner.”
“Conroy’s not the sharing type.”
“You got to prove yourself. We all do. You’re the head detective, but respect goes further than a title.”
“Frank,” she interrupted. “I personally would be grateful if you’d share any theories on my sister’s killer that you hear or come across in the future.”
Lennox shot her a look she’d expect on his face if one of the toy soldiers had knocked him over with their pretend gun.
A muscle twitched in Frank’s cheek. “I guess.”
“It’s better than games in your basement,” Lennox insisted, smoothing his expression and swooping in to control the conversation, “and you’d pretty much just be listening to my ideas. You’ll still have plenty of hours to garden. And the Chief’s away at his daughter’s wedding.”
“The boss’s on vacation, huh?” A grin broke out on the older man’s face. “As long as I have time to kill the weeds, I’m in.”
The deal was closed. Lennox jumped to his feet. “I’ll be in touch.”
Rose stood up, and they walked toward the front door where she lingered near Frank. “Thank you for agreeing to help us. Dahlia and I owe you.”
“You can come over to dinner any time. Luke, you can join us, too.”
She walked outside while Lennox lingered behind with Frank.
“We must keep this young lady safe.” Frank’s voice carried down the sidewalk to her. “And away from Buddy Drown.”
Had Buddy been the one watching her earlier today? She scrambled toward the car and safety. Inside, she locked the doors.
Lennox joined her in a few minutes. He tossed a file onto the rear seat and was stoic-faced as they headed away. “Frank gave me his personal notes on the Conway case. My dad’s are among the nonexistent. My Mom could have found my dad’s after he died and thrown them out, thinking they were useless.”
“We’re making a little progress, Lennox.”
“Myra, the director for the Community Players, agreed to meet me this afternoon,” he told her. “Since one of my men interviewed her already, we’re paying her a visit, not police related business. She’s an old friend of my Mom’s from one of her women’s group. I’ve known Myra all my life. She’ll give me a cast list from the play that involved your sister. I want you to come. See if you get any vibes of Dahlia at the theater since the Audi was one of the last places she visited in Ledgeview.”
“I’m not sure how much I’ll help. Dahlia’s ghost has a mind of her own. She appears where and when she wants.” Rose dipped her gaze. “She was like that when she was alive. Gram got her a job at the diner where she worked. Dahlia showed up for work when she felt like it or not at all. I can vouch that was not the career for her. Even with our business, schedules never worked for her. I took responsibility for opening and closing.”
“If you’d like a less active role, you can stay in your apartment and—”
“No way, Lennox, I promised Dahlia and Gram the maniac would be arrested and jailed. I’m not passing up an opportunity that might lead to him.”
They rode in silence for a few seconds. “I can imagine Dahlia on the stage,” Rose said, breaking the quiet. “I avoided the spotlight, but she sought it.” She fastened her gaze on Lennox. “You’d make a great actor. You have a poise or presence about you.” He was definitely leading man material.
“I’ll pass on the try outs. The theater is around the corner from the Court House.” He flicked a glance at his pocket watch while he drove. “Unlike Dahlia, we’re right on schedule.”
They walked toward the theater’s glassed-in lobby about five minutes later. He led the way through a set of double doors. “Let me do the talking. You know actors and their associates can be the temperamental types.”
“Are you hinting I should be quiet because I can’t flash a badge?”
“In this city, you’d do better to flash a Ledgeview birth certificate. People are partial to the home team. Come on.”
Backstage, they found Myra, a woman in her early fifties, with a clipboard of papers in one hand and a pen in the other. The odor of fresh paint grew stronger as they approached, and an overhead track of lights threw long shadows over the cardboard trees. Myra turned and spotted them. “Luke Lennox.” She hugged him, keeping her clipboard between them.
Rose moved in for a closer view when the older woman released him. The director’s gel plastered hair and French manicure didn’t shout serial killer. Cross off Myra on the list of suspects. She wouldn’t risk breaking a nail by attacking her sister.
“Now, Luke,” Myra said. “Be sure to let your mom know the card group still misses her.” She skimmed her gaze over him. “If you wanted a role in our spring production, you’re a little late. All the main leads are gone, but we could use help backstage. You’re young and strong unlike most of the men around this place.”
Rose drew nearer although the other woman seemed oblivious to her.
“I’ll keep it in mind, Myra. I’m here to ask you a few questions about a woman named Dahlia Blue. I understand she was in your last production.”
“The Angels Are Singing Different Tonight was my best show. I tapped the retirement community for the roles. Unfortunately, the play wasn’t financially successful. Ledgeview audiences rather watch worn out, predictable productions instead of opening their minds to unique material.”
Lennox crowded closer to the director, edging Rose out. “Myra, let’s talk over here.” He gestured to a few feet away from the scenery and the lingering painter.
Rose stood alone, the odd person out. Glad Lennox included her in the interview. The painter, an adolescent with pimples on his face and a paintbrush in hand, stared at her with open curiosity. Under his gape, she crossed the stage to join Myra and Lennox.
He turned to her as she joined them. “This is Rose Blue.”
Rose
extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Myra gave her a nod of dismissal and turned back to Lennox. “As I was saying, I don’t know much about Dahlia Blue. I hired her to take tickets and gave her a small part in our production. I had to replace her when she was a no show. It was very inconvenient.”
Rose definitely didn’t like this woman’s attitude.
“I need a list of the actors for police interviews,” Lennox said.
“As I told you, the play featured male and a few women residents of the nursing home.” She huffed a breath. “Step into the lobby, and you can have the names.” She turned toward her stage hand. “Horace, take the detective to the ticket booth and give him a copy of our last playbill.”
The painter and Lennox headed up the aisle. Myra’s high heeled shoes clicked across the floor as she disappeared behind the curtain.
Rose wandered toward the front of the stage and turned around in a circle until an open doorway to the side of the orchestra pit caught her attention. She walked to it and peered inside. A set of stairs descended to a lower level. When Buddy met Dahlia he’d left the donated clothes downstairs. She read the Out of Order sign on the banister and squinted down into the darkness. Damp, cold air wafted up from the blackness, and floating on the draft was the fragrance of rose perfume.
“Dahlia?” She inched forward searching, but the steps disappeared into the gloom. Was her sister lurking below? Rose grabbed the handrail. The support felt strong and firm. She reached her foot out toward the first step.
“Where are you going?”
She stepped back and whirled around.
Myra stood in front of her. The older woman’s thin nostrils flared. “Didn’t you see the sign? It’s dangerous walking on those stairs. You can’t use them.”
Rose retreated to Myra’s side. “Has the sign been up long?”
“It’s been there as long as I can remember. You’re lucky you didn’t slip and fall. The door is supposed to be locked, especially if the fire deputy comes for a surprise inspection. I’ve no idea who opened it.” She pinpointed her gaze on Rose.
