Dead Women Tell No Lies

by Nora LeDuc

  “Morning, find any signs of your neighbor?” he asked.

  Lennox’s voice zipped a wave of delight through her. “I’d bet Bike Boy is still sleeping somewhere and since the sound of a feather falling wakes me, I can vouch he hasn’t entered the building. What’s new on your end?”

  “I heard from the lab,” Lennox said. “Nothing usable on the mattress and on the sympathy card, the techie found zero prints. He thinks the video was filmed by a phone camera.”

  “I’m not surprised. What about the men who went to Rhode Island?”

  “Interviews with neighbors who remembered him and his former employer confirmed what we already knew. No leads on A.J. or the cousin from his hometown.”

  “Our killer could be any perv from here to Vermont getting his jollies. Any word on Cassie’s latest interview?”

  “I sent someone with sensitivity training to speak with her.”

  “You did?”

  “No, we’re cops, Rose, but my man won’t hammer her.”

  “Will you be searching Bike Boy’s apartment?” What else was her neighbor hiding?

  “I’ll need more evidence to get a warrant,” Lennox said. “I’d an interesting phone call a few minutes ago. Remember we interviewed the cast members of Myra’s production?”

  “How could I forget?” The memory of the station filled with the seniors flashed in Rose’s mind. “The police station resembled an AARP meeting.”

  “Then you should recall the fellow named Othello. A nurse from the Ledgeview Home where he lives called me. He’s doing better today and seems to have experienced a flashback he’d like to share with us.”

  “He knows something about Dahlia’s death?” At last they had a lead. A feeling of hope expanded in Rose’s chest. “When can we talk to him? You are taking me, right?”

  “I’ve been instructed to invite the Blue woman.”

  “He remembered me.” Her hope grew.

  “I’ll pick you up in four and a half minutes. Stay inside until I’m there.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said.

  Within twenty minutes, they were at the visitors’ desk at the Ledgeview Nursing Home. Lennox asked for Othello’s nurse, Miss Holloways. Rose kept her eyes glued on the hallway until a short, brown-haired woman appeared and announced she was the nurse who contacted Lennox. A warm smile lit up her freckled face while her wide brown eyes crinkled with curiosity. She seemed barely old enough to take high school courses, never mind take care of seniors.

  “Your Othello, and our Mr. Melvin, is in his room. I’ll show you the way.” The nurse pivoted around on her white soled shoes and walked down the hall.

  Lennox stepped aside for Rose to go first. The odor of evergreen air fresheners greeted them as they walked by rooms occupied by gray-haired people.

  The nurse led them into a room with two beds. The first stood empty. In the second, near a window, lay Othello.

  “Mr. Melvin, your company is here.” The nurse laid a hand on his arm and the elderly man’s eyes popped open.

  He let out a sound that resembled a lion’s growl, tossed onto his side and stared at them.

  “He fell asleep waiting for you. I’m not sure he’s in the mood for company now,” his nurse said in a loud whisper. “He’s often confused when he first wakes.”

  “Who are you people?” Othello yelled at Rose and Lennox.

  He held up his shield. “Mr. Melvin, I’m Detective Lennox. We met at the police station the other day. Your nurse reported you wanted to speak to me about Dahlia Blue.”

  “I never met a Dahlia Blue.” He waved a gnarled hand of dismissal and rolled over toward the window.

  Frustration pushed Rose forward. “Mr. Melvin, I’m Rose Blue. My sister, Dahlia, had a role in the stage production of The Angels Are Singing Tonight. Remember? She played the murder victim and attended the first rehearsal.”

  He turned to them. “I know nothing about angels singing to blue women. I’m Othello.” His eyes narrowed, and he pointed at Lennox. “This fellow’s of exceeding honesty.”

  “My father and I attended Ledgeview High. Neither of us were in the drama club, but you might have seen me around the school.”

  “My recall fails me.” Othello glanced at Rose. “If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!”

  “I don’t understand.” Rose faced the nurse for an explanation.

  “It’s Shakespeare,” Ms. Holloways said. “He repeats dialogue from the high school plays he’s directed. I’m afraid he won’t answer your questions. Once he starts reciting lines, he goes on for hours.”

  “But he has to talk to us.” Rose clenched her hands together. “We need his help. Mr. Othello, do you remember Dahlia Blue in the play at the Audi?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Yes, my sister was murdered.”

  Miss Holloways gasped from behind them.

  “I am abused and my relief,” Othello shouted and waved a hand in the air.

  “He’s performing a part.” The nurse shook her head. “He’s still into his character. You won’t get anything out of him the rest of the day. I apologize for asking you to drive out especially after what happened to your sister. I didn’t know.”

  Othello widened his eyes and pointed at Lennox. “I remember you.”

  “I’m Detective Lennox.”

  “Yes, you played Hamlet. The scene where your father’s ghost appears and informs you that Claudius poisoned him was exceedingly well-performed.”

  Rose cringed and glanced at Lennox. His expression remained stoic.

  He turned to the nurse. “What did he say before you phoned?” He took out his notepad.

  The nurse wrinkled her forehead in doubt. “Maybe his order to call the cops was from a play. Shakespeare didn’t write about cops, did he?”

  “Highly unlikely,” Lennox agreed. “You said he asked for me by name.”

  “He gave me your card with instructions to ask you to come.”

  “Repeat his exact words,” Lennox insisted.

  “He said he had an important message for you and the Blue woman.” Miss Holloways narrowed her eyes as though digging the words out of her memory. “‘The sins of the mother will be visited on the daughter.’”

  “Was he speaking about me?” Rose was unable to keep the shock from her voice.

  “I don’t know. Isn’t that a line from a play or a TV show?” the nurse asked.

  “It’s not from MTV,” Lennox said. “What else did he say?” He poised his pencil over his notebook from his pocket.

  “He was adamant about talking to you and became agitated when I didn’t act immediately. I thought he was in his right mind because he called me by my name. When he’s confused, he thinks I’m anyone from Amy to Zelda.”

  “Zelda was a beautiful woman,” Othello roared from his bed. “Scott Fitzgerald was a fool.”

  “Let’s step outside the room.” Lennox headed for the hall.

  “She was his Desdemona,” Othello grumbled.

  “I’ll be back in a second, Mr. Melvin,” the nurse reassured.

  “I’m Othello, young lady,” he sat upward in his bed and shouted.

  “We should find Shakespeare’s ghost to interpret for us.” Rose sidestepped closer to Lennox outside the closed door.

  He held out his card to the young woman. “Here’s my cell number. Call me when Mr. Melvin recognizes his own name.”

  The woman studied his number before slipping it into the pocket of her uniform. “I apologize again for bothering you.”

  “Call me any time. It’s my job.”

  “Is there a chance he spoke to another nurse today when he was lucid?” Rose asked.

  “He’s one of my patients. If he says anything at all, I’ll write it down and fill you in immediately.”

  “Thanks.” Rose didn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

  “Ready.” Lennox held out his hand for her to proceed down the corridor.

  “I can’t believe we missed our
opportunity to speak to him,” she mumbled as they walked toward his vehicle.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. We probably escaped a performance of all the roles in his last high school production.” He grabbed the door and held it open for her.

  “When Mr. Othello started talking about a father’s ghost I hoped you weren’t upset.”

  “I can’t take a man with a failing memory personally.”

  “Do you think he knows something about our families? You heard him shouting about sins of the mother visited on the daughter. Maybe he talked to Dahlia at the Audi.”

  “Rose, the man spouts lines like a water fountain. Unfortunately he’s not in his right mind, even if your sister used him as a family therapist.”

  “Othello counseling my sister is a stretch.” She let out a sigh.

  “Don’t worry.” He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “I’ll check on him every day in case he’s having a good day, and I can question him. How about we stop for a late breakfast?”

  “Sure, I could use a fourth cup of coffee.” Did Othello know more than he was able to express? She wished she had Lennox’s instinct to know if people were truthful. That was definitely another Blue deficit.

  Lennox drove to the cafe at a nearby plaza. The aroma of cinnamon buns greeted them as they entered. He cut in front of her as they walked inside, bringing her to a halt. “Todd’s aunt is at the counter. I guess it’s my lucky day.”

  A woman dressed in denim with salt and pepper hair and wearing a gray jacket was counting her money by the register. She fixed a glare on Lennox.

  “I’d say she sees you,” Rose said out of the side of her mouth, “and she’s not going to wish you a good day.”

  A young couple clutching brown bags left the café ahead of Todd’s aunt who pocketed her money and marched across the room to Lennox. “I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m Detective Lennox.”

  “I remember. You and that other cop—”

  “Detective Conroy.”

  “You,” she aimed an accusing finger at Lennox, “and the other cop came to my house and accused my nephew, Todd, of killing a woman.”

  “We asked where he was during the time period when the woman first went missing,” Lennox said, crowding closer to the woman as though he could drive her to the door.”

  “That’s as good as saying he was a murderer. I read in the paper she was killed by someone who acted like a lunatic. My nephew’s not a lunatic. I hired a lawyer to file a complaint against you. He’s working on it. Todd didn’t even know that dead woman.”

  “I want to speak to him. Is he at your place? He’s not at his apartment.” He reached around Todd’s aunt and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Keep asking and I might add harassment to the suit. Besides I haven’t seen him in months.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?” “I am.”

  “You should file a missing person’s report.”

  Rose pushed between them. “I’m filing a complaint against your nephew for stealing from my sister.”

  The older woman’s gray eyebrows jumped upward on her forehead. “Who are you? Are you with him? Are you a cop too? I can put you in my lawsuit.”

  “I’m Rose Blue. My sister, Dahlia was the murdered woman. Your nephew had one of my sister’s CD’s and since she barely knew Todd, she wouldn’t have loaned it to him.”

  Todd’s aunt pursed her lips and shrugged. “He probably found it somewhere. Or, it was planted on him. I want an investigation.”

  Rose felt the burn of anger building in her chest. “Or he stole her music before he spray painted the police station and keyed Detective Lennox’s car.”

  “Thank you, Miss Blue.” Lennox cut in front of Rose and faced Todd’s aunt. “I agree we should deepen our investigation. For that reason, I’ll send someone to your house and you can officially report him missing.” He pushed the door open, and nodded his head toward it.

  “I’m not responsible for Todd,” the woman shouted halfway out. “He’d turned twenty-one before he moved into that Main Street apartment, and I’m still filing a complaint against you. My nephew wouldn’t murder a woman, and no one can accuse him and ruin his good name when he’s not around.” The ring of the bell over the door announced her departure.

  Lennox guided Rose across the floor to the counter. Customers seated at the cafe tables dropped their gazes as he raised one brow and dared them to say a word. A teen girl with pink hair stood by the register and gaped openmouthed as they approached.

  “The woman’s a real grouch when she misses her breakfast,” he told the clerk. “We’ll take two regular coffees to go. Large, extra caffeine.”

  “I don’t think we have the last part,” the girl said before turning away.

  Rose waited to speak until the waitress crossed the floor to the coffeemaker. “Todd’s aunt had her nerve speaking to you like that. You investigate homicides. What does she do for a living? Complain?”

  His lips quirked upward, and he touched her hair, just a light stroke. She edged closer and felt his heat. The masculine scent of his soap mixed with the aroma of coffee beans.

  “Remind me not to tick you off.”

  “Did you speak with Todd’s boss, the burger shop manager, yet?” she asked him.

  “He fired Todd two weeks after he started because he rarely showed up.”

  “I guess he wasn’t up for model employee of the year.”

  “And his aunt wasn’t up for model relative of the year.”

  “If Myra casts a Halloween play, I can make a recommendation.”

  “I’ll be sure to let her know. In the meantime, I’ll get a warrant to search for a missing Todd Clark and do an official search of his apartment.” He walked away to collect their drinks.

  * * *

  Rose, come to the river. We’re waiting for you.

  “No,” Rose mumbled, tossing on the sofa bed.

  Rose, come. Then we can go home.

  The whisper grew louder and louder until she snapped upright on the couch. The blanket fell to the floor in the empty living room. She brushed stray strands of hair away from her face. The tick of the battery powered clock on the wall echoed in the silence. It was four-thirty in the afternoon. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep after Lennox brought her home.

  Light slanted downward onto the floor through the window. The sun would set in less than an hour. She collapsed against her pillow and closed her eyes. Please, Dahlia, let me sleep.

  Instead of peace, her sister’s words repeated in her mind. What did she mean we’re waiting? Was her killer there? Was Rose’s mind playing a trick? She closed her eyes and prayed for everything to disappear. The spot where her sister’s body had lain tangled in the bushes on the bank was the last place she wanted to visit.

  Then we can go home.

  The key to the murder was at the river. Now she understood. Rose slid from the couch, tugged on her parka and scooped up her purse with her gun. Outside, she welcomed the fresh air while her mind churned with anticipation. What would she find? She dug out her cell phone and hit the numbers for Lennox. The call went straight to his voicemail.

  She listened to his familiar voice and studied the sky. Overhead, the sun battled a cloud and broke through to shine its last rays. She blinked into the sunlight. Days were short this time of year. She didn’t have much daylight left, and no way was she walking near the water in the dark. She’d have to hurry.

  When the beep signaled to leave Lennox a message, she blurted out she was down by the river, and she’d report back. She clicked off and started down the hill to Smith Plaza.

  At the bottom of the paved road, she marched through the shopping center’s half filled parking lot and past the concrete block stores. The shops would be closing within a few minutes. She sped up and jogged down the fire lane toward the dumpsters in the rear. The odor of something rotting greeted her.

  Ahead lay the abandoned railroad track, and beyond
was the hillside. The sounds of cars whizzing past on the distant highway floated toward her. She pulled out her gun, pointed it down and crossed over the tracks to the weed covered hill. The snow had disappeared on the sun warmed slope. Empty bottles and fast food wrappers littered the ground.

  None of the street people had pitched their tents, yet. The sound of rushing water drew her downward toward the edge of the gray river. In the middle of the waterway, an ice floe refused to melt. A flock of pigeons sat on the frosty island with feathers puffed against the cold. Rose stopped, unsure. Was Dahlia’s ghost down here? Lifeless bushes marked the incline. The wind blew and her skin chilled with sudden awareness. Her stalker was here.

  Goosebumps broke out on her arms. She forced herself to pivot around, hunting for him or her. No one was within sight.

  “Dahlia, are you here?” She wandered further toward the water, listening to the pounding of her heart competing with the roar of the current. How long had her sister fought to stay alive in the icy river? She shivered. The wind whirled and whispered Rose’s name.

  “Dahlia?” Rose forced herself to search the waterway.

  A branch swept past, disappeared under the current, helpless in the force of the spring flow.

  Why had her sister called her here? Her gaze skipped and skimmed over the dormant shrubs on the edge of the bank and found Dahlia.

  “Dahlia!” Rose’s hand tightened on the butt of her gun.

  Her twin turned to her. Her wet hair hung lifeless around her bloodless face and hollow eyes. She turned away and walked along the river’s edge.

  Rose swallowed the acid lump in her throat. “Dahlia, come back.”

  Rose blew out a wobbling breath. She’d come this far. She headed toward her sister. The gnarled branches of the bushes grew low to the ground and snaked toward the edge. She wove through the underbrush and stopped on an overhang. Her sister’s form faded and disappeared.

  “Why did you call me here? What do you want me to find?” She closed her eyes. “Dahlia, please show me.”

  And then icy, gray water washed over her head, ending signs of daylight and land. Freezing. No air! Blackness closed around her. Confusion and panic took over. Which way was up? She struck out with her arms and legs. Air. She needed to breathe. Where was the surface? Help! She was drowning. Choose a direction. She flung her arms over her head and kicked her legs. Her lungs burned. Her body numbed, slowing her fight.