by Nora LeDuc
The realizations hurt her stomach. “Why Dahlia? Why couldn’t you be happy with our boutique? Why did you have to do those things?”
Dahlia didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. Her sister had led another life, and Rose had learned one thing from this tragedy. Love definitely wasn’t worth putting yourself out there. She needed a drink. Forget the coffee. Wasn’t there wine in the cabinet? She found the alcohol and reached for a glass. No, she’d drink straight from the bottle.
* * *
Conroy strolled into Luke’s cubicle, stopped and rapped on his desk where he was studying Edwards’ timeline. “What’s up?” Luke asked, glancing at Conroy. The man never showed up when morning meetings were planned.
“Why don’t you ask the voodoo woman?”
“What?”
“The sister of our victim, Dahlia Blue, she claims to see dead people. Ask her to talk to the victim’s ghost and find out what’s happening.”
“Where’d you hear that rumor?”
“You’re back in Ledgeview now, Lennox. We don’t keep secrets from each other. Everyone knows you’re under her I-See-Dead-People influence.”
“What do you want Conroy?”
The man handed him a file. “I’ve the interviews with the bank employees next door to the parking garage where Shauna Smith was allegedly attacked.”
Luke felt the prick of curiosity followed by annoyance. “You finally finished? How long have you held onto them?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He dropped the file on the desk and left.
Luke repressed a retort, threw open the folder and read. In the middle of the first page, the sentence stood up and waved to him.
“Conroy.”
The detective reappeared in the cubby opening. “Practicing your beck and call voice?”
“Read these three lines.” Luke held out the page and pointed to the place on the paper. “It’s from the bank supervisor, who stepped out for a smoke.
“It was the end of the night, and the employees had just left. I needed a cigarette before I went home and stepped outside. I didn’t see or hear anything.” Conroy handed it back.
Luke thumbed through the folders until he found the file he wanted. He threw it open and skimmed the report for a second. “Now read this line from Shauna Smith.”
“I was screaming and running for my life.” Conroy lowered the sheet.
Luke leveled his gaze on him. “The bank’s next door to the garage.”
“I’ll re-interview the supervisor about the evening.”
“Shauna exited the bank five minutes after seven. She was exact on the time.” Someone was lying or suffering from a bad memory. “Re-interview everyone. If Shauna Smith was screaming in an area of the downtown, we’d expect one witness.”
After Conroy left, Luke returned to his paperwork. He’d wasted no time finding a judge to issue a warrant for the casino’s video. One of his men was on his way to pick up the tape. He sat back in his chair and reviewed his first theory. A.J. Edwards convinced Dahlia Blue he loved her because he perceived her as a girl who wanted everyone to like her, and she was willing to go. Now A.J. wanted Luke to believe he’d identified with his down-and-out cousin’s son and ran the porno business to earn money for the kid. If the story was for real, then maybe this was the part of him that Rose and Dahlia had first seen. Luke threw down his pen on the desk.
He rummaged through the desktop files and opened up Frank’s aged personal notes on the North Conway murder. The information was similar to his dad’s. He flipped to the next page and stopped. The handwriting on the page was his father’s. They’d shared notes and ideas so it wasn’t preposterous that a sheet had gotten mixed in.
Luke read through the lines. Nothing was new except the town North Conway was underlined several times. He’d keep that idea in the back of his mind. He shut the file. Stop procrastinating and move onto the next item on the agenda, Rose.
He’d let his guard down and become emotionally involved with her. He’d made a mistake. He didn’t possess the qualities women wanted—time and devotion to love them above all else. A repeat of his painful, failed marriage was the last thing he wanted.
He picked up the desk phone. This was a call he dreaded, but the chief had insisted. He pushed the numbers.
“Rose Blue. Leave a message.”
“Hello, Rose. We—”
“Lenn–ox,” Rose answered, sounding breathless. “Are you still pressing the charges against A.J.? Did he give you any explanations or new information about my sister?”
“A.J. confessed he used your sister for an illegal online business venture. He claimed to have given part of the profits to his cousin who was homeless.” When Rose didn’t respond, he pressed on. “He’s still under arrest for your sister’s death. That hasn’t changed.”
“Did A.J. admit to Dahlia and Cassie’s murders?”
Luke ground out, “No. We’re tracking down the cousin and the alibi story at the moment.”
“What was their business?”
He heard the hope in her voice and hesitated for a second. “He was into pornography like we thought. The site’s been disbanded. He was putting together a new one when he was taken into custody. I’m sorry, Rose. Remember you’re not responsible for Dahlia. She was a consenting adult.”
“You don’t understand, Lennox.”
“Explain it.”
“If A.J. is the killer, and he was caught, why did I dream that she wants me to leave because her murderer is still out there?”
Frustration stretched his nerves. How could he get through to her? “Rose, they’re dreams, not reality.
A long pause told him she didn’t like his answer. “I’ll be at the trial. Bye, Lennox.”
“Wait.” He ran a hand through his overgrown hair. “We’d like you to come down to the station to speak to our psychiatrist.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
This was as bad as he’d thought. The pressure in his chest grew. “I don’t. The defense may try to use you at A.J.’s trial. We want to provide proof you’re legally sane. Our psychiatrist can speak to you this afternoon at four.”
“Fine.” She hung up.
Damn. He clicked off the phone. He’d call her back. What should he say? He drummed his fingertips on the desk, seeking the right words. What the hell were they?
His phone buzzed.
“Detective Lennox,” the station’s desk clerk spoke to him. “I’ve a Mr. Lorenzo who’d like to speak to you about the Shauna Smith case. He asked for you by name.”
“All right, I’ll set up a meeting.” Within seconds, they agreed to meet at two.
“I’ll be here,” Luke said and hung up. Mr. Lorenzo, I hope you’re not a waste of my time. The man was full of hints and insisted he needed to speak in person with Luke about the evening.
He flipped open a file and began to re read his notes, waiting for his mind to automatically connect all the lose threads in the Dahlia Blue case. Five minutes later, he stopped. The pieces refused to join together. He had the M.E,’s best estimate for Dahlia Blue’s hour of death. He had Rose’s statement with the last times she’d seen her sister physically. The problem would be if A.J. Edwards’ alibi for the day and night proved true. They’d need to scramble to prove he committed the murder on another day. They also had nothing concrete to connect him to the murder. No DNA, no witnesses for the night of the murder besides the version Rose offered. The whole case could fall apart.
But his bigger problem was Rose. He believed her, but what would the shrink say? They had their own biases. Rose’s hurt voice echoed in his mind.
Concentrate on the pieces. No witnesses came forward to support Shauna’s story and now what would Mr. Lorenzo add?
He stared at the phone, wanting to push Rose’s number and restore her good faith in him. He couldn’t do it sitting at his desk. What would his father do? Luke knew what he’d say.
Look at all the angles.
He strode out th
e rear door and past the reporter at the corner taking a cigarette break. Once he jumped into Old Charger, his confidence grew. He maneuvered by the media vans with their satellite dishes. He glanced in the mirror. No press followed. To be sure, he’d take the long way up to The Ledges.
He dug out his sunglasses to shade his eyes against the bright sun. The air had warmed to a balmy fifty-five degrees. On instinct he drove to the Audi and asked for Myra.
Horace led him to a tiny closet where Myra sat at a spic and span desk, frowning over a sheet of paper. She started to rise, but Luke gestured for her to sit.
“I heard about the big arrest behind the Audi last night,” she said. “Everyone was hoping someone saw it and could fill us in.”
“I didn’t want to upstage Dean’s night, but today, I need your help.” He pulled up
Edward’s picture on his phone and held it out to her. “Have you seen Mr. Edwards anywhere near the Audi when Dahlia was alive or since her death?”
Myra shook her head. “Never saw anyone who resembled him.”
“Did Dahlia mention the name of any man?”
“I’m sorry, Luke. Our conversation was brief but…” He raised his brows and waited.
She frowned. “When I first met Dahlia, she wanted to know if I’d ever met her Grandmother. She said I reminded her of the woman. I was little put out to be compared to someone’s Granny and told her I never met gram.”
“Did she say how you would meet her?” Did her Grandmother have a connection to someone in Ledgeview?
She shrugged. “We didn’t pursue the topic after I reminded Miss Blue that discussion of age at an interview was illegal.”
“Isn’t that the age of the interviewee?”
“Fair is fair. The girl was disappointed, but she seemed to understand she’d touched a sore spot. I admit I don’t care to admit how old I am. What woman does?”
“And you didn’t know how you’d know her Grandmother?”
“No, I took it that her grandmother visited once, but you understand, Luke. Ledgeview seems like a small town, but if someone keeps to themselves, I wouldn’t meet them unless they lived in my neighborhood or joined the theater or church.”
“Thank you, Myra. Call me if you remember anything else.”
He walked out to his car. Dahlia thought Myra might have known her Grandmother. Was the city the connection in this crime? He hopped in Old Charger again. Water streaked the road from the last melting traces of snow. What if Dahlia came to Ledgeview to look up old friends from the time of her Grandmother?
Another question pushed to the front of his thoughts as he drove toward The Ledges. How had Dahlia reached the outskirts?
She rode with her killer or drove herself. Either way, where was her car? No one had stepped forward when the article in the paper announced the police sought the vehicle, and a computer search found no one had registered a matching vehicle in the New England area. He’d have to investigate the other regions and the possibility the killer sold it to a chop shop.
Seven miles past The Ledges, he hit the border of the police search for Dahlia. He pulled over and changed into his hiking boots. His phone buzzed. When he finished with his boots, he checked his caller ID. It was the Chief. Luke pulled up the voicemail and listened. The Chief planned a meeting in two hours and Luke better be there.
Great. He had Mr. Lorenzo to interview at the same time. He’d better get started. He grabbed a map from his glove compartment and tramped off.
A half hour later, he paused on his trek and fished the folded map out of his pocket to reread it. An abandoned fire tower stood on top of the hill. He’d get a different view from up high. He tucked the map away and headed off. In twenty minutes, he stood on the crest, surveying the landscape. No signs of tire tracks in the dirt or traces of oil from any recent vehicles showed up on the hard ground. He climbed up the rickety metal stairs. He paused to survey the view when he reached the last step. In the distance, the river and the rocky formations of The Ledges were recognizable. He turned his attention to the view in the opposite direction.
The roofs of a few buildings peeked out from the woods. One appeared to be a farm. He glanced at his pocket watch. If he left right away, he’d have time to drive back to the station and meet his appointment with Mr. Lorenzo and then hit the Chief’s meeting. Luke wound down the metal stairs and the hillside path.
His hike had revealed a big fat nothing. Drawing out his map, he ran a thumb over the blue bodies of water. Soon as the weather warmed up a few more degrees, he’d bring the divers back to search for Dahlia’s car in the river and a nearby pond.
The urge to find a clue, a scrap of clothing drove him. He started off one last time. Within thirty minutes, he’d reached the driveway of the buildings he’d seen from the tower. He read the name on the mailbox and ran through the list in his mind of people interviewed. The name didn’t match any. Lennox glanced at his watch. He should head back to the station. The Chief would have his butt if he wasn’t there. The farm owners could have seen or heard something the night of Dahlia’s murder. His men should have interviewed them but often more info comes out on a second round. Look at Myra and with luck, the bank manager.
He turned and jogged down the drive. The closer he drew to the buildings, the more ramshackle they appeared. Luke approached the front door and gave the knob a twist. It was locked. The boarded up windows confirmed the lack of human presence. He circled the building before giving his attention to the barn. The roof of the peeling red building showed missing shingles and sagged in the center. He yanked the barn door open. He pulled out his gun and entered. Dust floated in the sunbeams poking through the holes in the roof and reflected off the metal roof of a vehicle.
Excitement rose into his throat as he stared at the Vermont license plate. He pulled out his notebook and flipped through until he found the page with her plate number. Then he called the station. “Conroy, I’ve found Dahlia Blue’s car. Brief the Chief.”
“He’s not here. The Mayor called him over to the palace for an emergency meeting. What do you bet the boss won’t be saying I love my job when he returns? Where are you?”
“I’m near The Ledges. I need you to meet with a Mr. Lorenzo, who wanted me to take his statement about the garage attack. He’ll be at the station at two.”
“Hope he’s legit. I’ll join you soon as I’m done.”
Lennox gave directions and hung up.
Dahlia Blue had driven out to The Ledges. Had she left her car inside the dilapidated barn? More likely her killer had moved the vehicle to the spot to hide it.
Chapter 28
Rose’s brain was fogged-in. Squinting at the clock, she read 1pm. She’d napped for over an hour and had three more before she went to the appointment with the police head shrinker. Okay, she was never spending another minute sitting around whining or wine-ing. She was throwing out the attitude.
She shuffled into the kitchen and emptied the remainder of last night’s wine down the drain. No police psychiatrist would call her a drunk. He could label her crazy maybe, but not a wino. Already she felt better.
Crossing into the living room, she yanked out the bottom bureau drawer to dig out Dahlia’s clothes. They were going to the women’s shelter. Her fingertips scraped against paper as she grabbed the last pile of jeans and shirts. She dropped the clothes on the sofa bed and picked up the printed sheet stuck to the bottom of the drawer.
Holding up a printout, she read The Ledgeview Local News. The piece was written last summer. The headline: Ledgeview High Drama Club Celebrates Fifty Dramatic Years was splayed across the page. A picture of Mr. Melvin or Othello from the Nursing home smiled at her from the page.
Rose sank onto the couch. Why would Dahlia want or keep an old Ledgeview news item? Rose skimmed the article to the last few sentences: The drama club is still seeking fellow thespians to invite to the gala. The first name stopped her from reading further.
Laurie Blue headed the list. Her mother attended Ledge
view High? When? Gram lived in Vermont all her life, except for the one year after Grand dad died.
Ledgeview. At last, Rose had found the missing piece. Dahlia had chosen Ledgeview because Mom and Gram had lived here once. Rose dug into her purse lying on the table. Pulling out her phone, she hesitated and then pushed Lennox’s number. She listened for two rings and hung up. She’d a better idea. She’d talk to Othello or Mr. Melvin. She threw on her jacket and slung her purse over her shoulder.
Grabbing her gun from the counter next to the coffee maker, she stuffed the thirty-eight in her pocket. I’m still using smart-on, Lennox.
Minutes later, Othello’s nurse greeted her at the desk. “Miss Blue, Mr. Melvin will be happy to see you. Today is a good day for him.”
“He’s coherent?”
“He called me by my name. Course, he might have run out of other names and said it by mistake.” She frowned.
“Can I see him now?”
“Follow me. He’s in the dayroom by the windows.” She led Rose through the large space where seniors congregated together in small groups talking or working at the puzzle tables. Othello sat alone near the bank of windows. Sun streamed in through the glass behind his arm chair spotlighting the senior.
“Mr. Melvin.” Rose walked past the nurse who indicated a seat for her across from Othello. She perched on the edge and rested her purse on her knees.
Mr. Melvin raised his head. “Young lady, are you here for an audition?”
Her hope died for a second, and then, she rallied and dug out the article. She held it under his nose.
He glanced at the paper but refrained from a comment.
Why didn’t he speak? “I found this piece from a few months ago. The article was about the high school drama club celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. They listed missing members at the end.” She pointed to her mother’s name. “What role did Laurie Blue play?”
“I think she played….” The light in his eyes dimmed.
“Please, Mr. Melvin.”
