Dead Women Tell No Lies

by Nora LeDuc

  She dismissed the woman’s suspicion and inhaled. “What’s the odor from the basement?”

  “Mold invaded part of the cellar. We’re holding a fundraiser to pay for its removal.”

  “No, the scent is sweet like a flower.”

  “You must mean my rose perfume.” Myra patted her hair.

  “You wear a rose scent?”

  “Hey, Rose, are you ready?” Lennox strode down the aisle toward her.

  “I’d better go.” She started past Myra and hesitated to throw a glance down the stairs. The flicker of a shadow streaked past in the light from the open door and blended into the pitch black basement. Rose blinked, peeked again and saw only the darkness.

  “Did you see something down there?” Myra’s hot breath against Rose’s neck startled her.

  She turned around and wet her dry lips. “Did you?”

  Myra was bent forward staring below. “It must be a rodent.”

  “You mean a rat?” Rose backed away with revulsion.

  “I’ll let Horace know he has to set up the traps.” The tightness around Myra’s mouth eased. “Oh, by the way, you didn’t ask about your sister’s part in the play.”

  Rose shrugged. “What was her role?”

  Myra folded her arms over her chest and threw back her head like she’d accepted a challenge. “Keep in mind I’d no idea what would happen to your sister. She only played the role once in rehearsal, but—Dahlia Blue played the murder victim.”

  Chapter 9

  Faded paper dragons decorated the wall above the booths of the Chinese restaurant. As Lennox and Rose walked past an elderly couple, the white-haired woman raised her head, ran her gaze over Lennox and then winked at Rose. He sailed past the woman without a glance.

  Rose sat across from him and perused the menu. Within minutes, the waitress was taking their order and the food arrived. She inspected her meal. The lunch’s consistency reminded her of dog food. Her hunger disappeared.

  “You’re not eating,” he said. “Order something else. You’re too thin.”

  “Gee, thanks. I’m more the straight hamburger type.”

  “Try General Tso’s chicken. It’s my favorite.”

  “Let’s talk about Myra. She’s not the friendly type, is she?”

  “I’ve found people don’t like questions from the police or advice. Note vice is part of the last word.”

  “I’ll remember your ad vice. Do you want to hear what I learned from Myra while you were with Horace?” She couldn’t wait for him to take her bait and blurted, “Myra assigned Dahlia the role of the murder victim in the last play.”

  “Maybe Myra knew more about your sister than we guessed.”

  “I don’t think she was psychic, Lennox.” Rose sat back and frowned. “Since Myra told me, I’ve envisioned Dahlia lying on the stage with her mouth duct taped.” The hairs on Rose’s arms stood at attention and shivered. “Then I picture her at the morgue.” Dahlia’s fixed glassy eyes would never see anyone again. Her frozen, blue lips would never speak. Rose swallowed the sob in her throat.

  “Sorry, Rose,” Lennox’s low voice broke into her recollections. “My men will interview the cast now that I’ve a list of names. Horace told me he overheard your sister say your mom loved acting.”

  “That’s right. Mom was a drama queen. Any local play and she was there. I remember Gram babysat us during those late evening rehearsals and productions. I think Dahlia inherited her gene. What did Horace know about Dahlia?”

  “That was the extent of his knowledge.”

  “Don’t forget Frank gave us Buddy as a suspect.” She waited for his response, but he sat silent. She picked at the food while she continued. “I’d like to question him.”

  “You’re not a cop, remember? And, I already interviewed Buddy. Until I’ve evidence that incriminates him, he’s not a suspect or a person of interest. If I find a witness or a discovery that supports an interrogation, I’m all over him.”

  His words didn’t reassure her. At the moment, she needed caffeine for reinforcement. She’d pay a hundred dollars for a steaming mug. “Do they serve coffee in this place?” Where was the waiter? “I’d like a pint of strong French Roast.”

  “Try tea.” He poured the liquid from the pot on the table into her cup. “Any hints from your sister at the Audi?”

  She sniffed at the pungent tea. “Don’t worry. Myra won’t be passing the Ghostbusters’s number to me any time soon. Dahlia and I didn’t speak.”

  “Forget Myra. When Dahlia reappears, get the name or initials of her attacker.”

  “It’s not like we’re texting or having a phone conversation.” Frustrated, she tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “What’s the bully story Frank mentioned?”

  The corner of Lennox’s mouth turned upward. “The story’s not exiting. When I was a sixth grader at Ledgeview Middle School, a few eighth graders decided to beat me up because I was the son of a cop and it would prove they were tough. Buddy had just moved here from Maine with his mom and Dean. As the new kid he was out to prove himself by teaching the older kids they’d chosen the wrong victim. The next day, Bud and I went one-on-one on the basketball court at lunchtime.”

  She leaned across the table. “And you beat the bullies and Buddy.” “The odds were against us, five of them to two of us, but the fight was broken up by a teacher before a winner or loser was determined. School suspended me, and my father grounded me for two months. But Buddy and I became friends. We covered each other’s backs and were always there for each other in and out of school.”

  “What about Buddy?”

  “Bud and I called our game a tie when next period bell rang.”

  “I can’t imagine you in a schoolyard brawl. You seem too…law abiding. Did you get in a lot of trouble?” She imagined a younger version of Lennox swinging punches and sporting a black eye. “I bet you could have beaten them without Buddy.” Lennox could win with both fists handcuffed behind his back.

  “I wish I’d seen you take on a bunch of bad dudes.” She conjured up the image of Lennox walking down the school hall with her, his arm around her shoulders. She glanced at him, glad he wasn’t psychic. “Any other brawls during your middle or high school years?”

  “A few, I avoided them if possible. My dad taught me being a good law enforcer was about thinking and psyching people out, not punching them out.”

  “What about your mom? Was she in favor of your grounding?”

  “She always supported my dad. They were a solid team. I haven’t seen her much lately. After my Dad’s death, she moved away to recover. She took his death hard. I rent the house from her. She didn’t want to sell it, and the former tenants gave their notice when I snagged the job in Ledgeview. The timing was perfect. Why are you asking all these questions?”

  “I’m just curious.” She shrugged.

  “I’m curious why you asked Frank to join the investigation.”

  She shifted and caught a strong whiff of the fried rice on her plate. “I decided he’s not a lost cause if he thinks his cat’s clairvoyant. How’s your food?”

  “The verdict’s still out on the eats, but Frank’s a unique individual.”

  “Your friend’s a flatterer,” she said, inspecting the meat. “Did he compliment too many females during his marriage or was his compulsive gambling the reason his wife left him?”

  “You should join the force. You have a suspicious nature.”

  “I’d be good at interrogation. I should talk to Buddy, and it doesn’t take an investigator to guess what happened in your retired detective’s marriage.”

  “Frank always kept his betting under control. As for women, he appreciates a pretty face, but he never cheated. He believes in the laws of marriage.”

  “People call them vows in the real world.” She waited a beat. “What about you? Did your ex wander?”

  “Getting a little personal, Miss Blue?” He glanced at her over the table with those now icy blue eyes. “What’s my former wife
got to do with solving a crime?”

  “I was thinking how life often throws similar people together. My ex boyfriend strayed, too, if it makes you feel better. He put the blame on me. He said I cared more about my shop than him. Turns out while I was busy doing my part to open my store, he was doing everyone he could find.” Her lower lip quivered despite her best effort to control it.

  “The guy was a pig. Glad you dumped him.”

  “Thanks, Lennox. You’re sweet sometimes.”

  “I’ve arrested plenty of people who’d disagree.”

  “Who’d believe them?” She lowered her voice in case the elderly couple at the next table could overhear. “I don’t think my ex and I were a good match though I didn’t see it for a while. The Blues are cursed in love.”

  “You believe in curses and ghosts.”

  “I bet you’re happy you met me.” The memory of the breakup bit into her with fresh pain. She managed a brief smile to hide her sadness. “Now he’s gone and the Blues Sisters isn’t. None of the women in my family have done well in love. My Gram loved my Grandfather but he died of a sudden heart attack when my mom was in high school. Gram was like your mom, Lennox. When Gram’s husband died, she and my mother moved away for a short time, but they missed their home and returned to Brattleboro.”

  Rose gripped the napkin in her lap, gearing up to ask the big question one more time. “So what was the story about your ex?”

  “Mine?” He shrugged. “She never mentioned that our marriage was cursed, if that disappoints you.”

  “Funny.” She tossed the napkin on the table.

  “My ex wasn’t happy married to me, a detective. She felt I gave all my energy to the criminals,” he admitted between bites. “My hours off were pretty limited. She had a point. When I was home, I was usually thinking about the job and not her or us.”

  “I’d imagine a police detective’s career is exciting. You solve mysteries, put clues together and shoot at people. I could never do those things. I’m better at ordering supplies, working on my budget or thinking up fund raisers for the business association.”

  “What about firing your thirty-eight?”

  “You want the truth? When I bought it, I figured the sight of the gun would frighten people away.”

  “Here’s a sure fire way to scare people.” He bent forward until he was whisper away.

  Her gaze fell on his mouth and a ripple of anticipation ran through her. “What?” she murmured and held her breath.

  “Call-the-police.” He straightened and clapped his hands together. “We’ve talked enough about us. Your sister’s case is the topic I want to discuss.” He gulped tea as though to wash the past conversation out of his mouth. “What was up with your sister and the online social networks?”

  What was he digging for? Unease tensed Rose’s shoulders. “What do you mean?” She focused on her food to avoid her nervousness. “What’s the seasoning in the poultry? It’s quite strong.” She pointed at the serving.

  “Asian spices. I can’t find Dahlia’s tracks anywhere on the internet. Things aren’t adding up. How did her killer know she feared heights unless she shared the information with him?”

  “Dahlia didn’t like people to know about her phobia, but you’ve a point. Why would he drag her out on the trestle when he could have thrown her into the water from the ledge?”

  “He could just be a creep.”

  “I know something creepier.” She debated for an instant and then plunged in. “Dahlia always believed she’d die on a bridge. She’d drive out of her way not to cross one. I thought she was silly, but not anymore.” Rose tightened her grip on the fork. “She must have trusted the killer and confessed her fright to him. He used all her fears to make Dahlia’s death gruesome.”

  She sipped her drink. Bitterness lingered on her tongue, and she shoved the cup away. “You don’t think they have spiders in this place, do you? It’s kind of old and a few crawlies might live in a crack or two.” She hunched forward and inspected the wall.

  “Aren’t spiders against the department of health guidelines for restaurants?”

  “Spiders have a way of ignoring the health department.”

  “Let’s get back to my questions. Your sister never told you, her twin, about online friends or joining a virtual group?”

  He was fishing for something. “Dahlia didn’t need to talk to faceless or long distance people. We owned a boutique with real live customers, and she had a fiancé.”

  “How’d she meet A. J. Edwards?”

  Lennox was interrogating her. Her pulse picked up. “She met A.J. during the Christmas rush. He came into the store on his lunch break to buy gifts.”

  “I want to talk to the man. Do you have the addresses of where he sent his presents or any ideas about his whereabouts?”

  “He was always cash and carry. He seemed like a sweet guy. You think he was a fake? That he met my sister to kill her?” Why were the Blues women blind to men’s true character? Other women seemed to possess radar when it came to men who were bad for them.

  “I believe everyone is guilty, until I personally rule them out. How did they feel about each other?”

  “My sister loved him, and he loved her. They were engaged. You think he used the engagement to get closer to her? That he always planned on killing her?” Hideous. Now she really had no appetite.

  “Your sister might have broken up with him because she saw more to him than she wanted to admit.”

  Rose stared at her plate, considering his point. “Dahlia accused him of not being supportive of her dreams, but Dahlia’s dreams changed daily. You also need to understand my sister. She often fell passionately in love, but her relationships burned out quickly. Going for the long run was not her usual style. I’d hoped A.J. was an exception because I wanted her happy.”

  “Maybe he was angry over the breakup and wanted to get even. Wouldn’t your sister share her fear of heights with him when they were together?”

  “I wasn’t aware that she did, but I don’t know every word they spoke either.” Rose’s eyes widened. “He could have gotten revenge by throwing her off the bridge.”

  “Describe the end of their relationship. What caused them to separate?”

  Her stomach began to hurt with each new question, and her last fight with Dahlia hovered in the back of her mind. She inhaled and plunged into her sister’s past love life. “I think the relationship was over, at least, for my sister when Dahlia began to have no time for A.J. He seemed to take the end hard, but I never guessed he’d want payback.” In her mind, A.J.’s smile twisted into a sneer.

  Lennox stared at her across the table with those perceptive blues. Was he guessing she was white washing the breakup?

  “Your business kept her too busy for her boyfriend? I don’t get the picture. You reported searching the local bars for her. Dahlia had time to go out and join others, but she couldn’t spare an hour for A.J?”

  “Dahlia went to the local bars after they broke up. She didn’t handle her pain well and used a few drinks to solve her problems and without considering the consequences.”

  “Her lifestyle sounds dangerous.” He sat in silence, his expression dead sober. “I guess true love isn’t meant for everyone, including myself. I do better dealing with other emotions such as retribution.”

  “From what I’ve seen, you can read people after a few words. You might have had the wrong partner in your marriage, but were too close to recognize the fact.”

  “You sound like you’re scoping me out for your own reasons.”

  She watched his gaze plunge to her mouth, then slide to her chest and back. A small thrill zipped through her. She squashed the feeling. Likely he was thinking of giving her more instructions on watching out for criminals. Besides, her sister’s murderer was on the loose. She didn’t have time for imaginary hook ups.

  “Relationships are tricky. I don’t think I’ve ever understood them,” she confessed with a burst of honesty. “I never dreamed of
a future without Dahlia either.” She paused to clear the lump from her throat. “Do you have any more questions for me?”

  “Let’s get back to A.J. Did you meet his friends?”

  “He introduced Dahlia to his co-workers at the garage. He only lived in Vermont for about five or six months. He was from Rhode Island.” Uneasy, she glanced at the sign labeled Exit, now her favorite word.

  He lowered his gaze to her food. “Are you finished? You didn’t eat much.”

  “I’m having a reaction to one of the ingredients.”

  He tilted her dish toward him and scooped up forkfuls.

  “Help yourself. It was kind of you to ask.” She tapped her foot under the table and stood up. “I’ll hit the ladies room while you finish.”

  She spotted the waiter carrying their bill. “I left my purse in the car. Can you give me the key?” She’d better get her money before Lennox thought she was a freeloader.

  “Not a good place for valuables, Blue.” He pulled the key from his pocket and held it out.

  “Lecture noted.” She scooped up the key, strode past the indoor Koi pool and shoved through the door.

  Lennox’s car sat by the building. The sound of music blasted across the lot. On the road, a figure dressed in a black hoodie pedaled away on a bike. A blaring boom box was tied to the handle bars. Was that her neighbor? The bicyclist disappeared around the corner.

  She started to cross to the car and stopped. Keyed into the passenger door were two words.

  “Rose?” Lennox joined her in the lot. “What’s wrong?

  She pointed at the message on the car. DIE PIG.

  Chapter 10

  “My stalker’s here. He left me another message.” Rose’s gaze skipped over the parking lot. “How did he know where I was unless he followed us?” The goosebumps on her arms rose up and warned the coward could be hiding, spying on them.

  “My car is fairly well known. Rose, are you listening?”

  “Yes, your car etc. etc.” She paced a few steps toward the dumpster. The creep could be behind the garbage.

  “Stand there.” He did a quick jog around the property’s perimeter. “No one’s around, and the graffiti is for me. I’m the pig. Someone spray painted a similar message on the station earlier today. A few people don’t like the police. I know it’s hard to believe when I have a winning personality.”