A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

  He shook himself awake, picked up his backpack and headed toward the exit.

  “Where were we?” the librarian said when she returned to her desk. “You were asking about Kit.” She drummed her fingers on the counter in front of her. “There’s someone who might be able to tell you more.” She stood up and surveyed the room, her gaze zeroing in on a table where a grizzly of a man sat, in the corner next to shelves filled with the latest issues of local and national newspapers. “See the man in the far corner, reading the LA Times? I’ve seen the two of them together a lot. He might be able to tell you something about Kit’s family.”

  Rory thanked the librarian and headed across the room. She picked up last week’s issue of the Vista Beach View and sat down at the table beside the man. She pretended to read as she studied him surreptitiously from behind the newspaper.

  He was older, in his sixties was Rory’s best guess, though she supposed life on the streets could age someone prematurely. His beard and hair were unkempt and his clothes appeared more ragged than the ones Kit wore.

  She sat there for a good five minutes trying to figure out how to start a conversation before the man said without looking up from his paper, “Staring’s going to cost you. Dime a minute. Goes up to a quarter if you want to ask questions.” He turned the page and kept on reading.

  Rory looked around, but didn’t see anyone else nearby. “Are you talking to me?”

  “See anyone else staring?” he said in a gruff voice.

  She folded the newspaper, put it down on the table and stuck out her hand. “I’m Rory.”

  The man tapped the table with his index finger.

  She stared at his finger for a moment, puzzled, until she realized what he meant. She fished a dollar bill out of the pocket of her jeans and placed it on the table.

  He put his hands over the money and drew it toward him in a protective gesture. “That gives you four minutes. Ask your questions.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ben. Skip to the chase. Times a wastin’.” He made a tick tick tick sound with his mouth.

  Rory brought up Kit’s picture on her phone’s display and showed it to him. “I was wondering if you know him. His name’s Kit.”

  Surprise flitted across his face shortly replaced by suspicion. “Why?”

  “He’s in the hospital. I’m trying to find relatives, but I don’t know his last name.”

  Ben settled back into his chair and studied her. “He gonna die?”

  “I don’t know. Can you tell me anything that will help me contact his family to let them know about his situation?”

  “Not sure he wants them to know.” He studied her as if looking for something in her eyes. He must have found whatever he was looking for because he said, “Don’t know much about him. Last names don’t matter to me. I don’t tell anyone mine and don’t ask for theirs. But he talked about a girl once or twice. The name was something short.”

  “Zoe?”

  “That’s it. Don’t know a last name to go with it though, or where you might find her. What’s wrong with him?”

  “He has a head wound and an infection.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “Someone hit him?”

  “We think so. Last Friday around lunchtime. Do you know if he had an argument with anyone around that time?”

  “Don’t know nothing about that.” He pushed the money across the table. “Here. You can have it back. Anything to help Kit. He’s been good to me.”

  Rory pushed the money toward him and added a larger bill. “Keep it. Thanks for your help. Stay safe.”

  He put a hand to his head as if tipping an imaginary hat to her. “Same to you.”

  Rory returned the paper to its place, waved at the librarian as she passed by her desk and headed outside. In the courtyard Veronica and the man the librarian had told to leave sat side by side on a stone bench. The reporter handed him a flip phone similar to the one Rory had seen Kit use. He nodded and stood up, tucking the phone and a charger in his backpack.

  As soon as he left, Rory sat down on the bench next to Veronica. “Did you just give that man a cell phone?” She gestured toward Marco, who was on his way back into the library.

  “What of it?” The reporter pressed the notebook she’d been writing in against her chest so Rory couldn’t see what was on the page.

  “Do you do that a lot? Pass out cell phones to random people?” Rory asked.

  Veronica looked around as if to make sure no one was within earshot, then lowered her voice. “You’re not in the business so I can tell you. That was me adding another recruit to my army.”

  “Army?”

  “My army of informants. I can’t be everywhere at once. They’re my eyes and ears around town.”

  “These…informants, they tell you when something newsworthy happens?”

  “That’s right. In exchange for the use of the phone they tell me if they see anything they think I should know about.”

  That must have been how she heard about the police activity at Willow’s house, Rory thought. “How many of these informants do you have?”

  Veronica tilted her head toward the library. “He’s number ten on my list.”

  “Have you gotten enough information from them to make the cost worthwhile?”

  “It’s not that expensive. The burners are pay-as-you-gos. I buy the cheapest ones possible. I only add money to one if the informant tells me something useful. Even with no money added they can still be used to dial 911, so it’s a win-win for both of us.”

  “What’s in the book?” Rory nodded toward the notebook, now closed on Veronica’s lap.

  “I keep track of when I give out a phone, who I give it to and what they’ve told me.”

  “What if they won’t tell you their name?”

  “I write down a description, something like male, beard, brown hair, that kind of thing. Anything that will jog my memory and remind me who I gave the phone to. I call all of them once a week and check in.”

  Rory showed Kit’s photo to her. “Did you give one to him? His name’s Kit. He had a phone that looked like the one you gave Marco.”

  “He looks familiar. Let me check.” Veronica thumbed through her notebook until she found the right page. “Here it is.” She looked up from her notes. “Before I show this to you, tell me why you want to know.”

  “He’s in the hospital. I’m trying to locate relatives. I’m hoping you can tell me something that will help me find them.”

  “I don’t keep track of personal information. I don’t ask and they don’t volunteer.”

  “Can I see what you have?”

  Veronica handed over the book, open to the page on Kit. Rory stared at the information in disappointment. Other than the man’s name, a date and a phone number, nothing else was written on it.

  “You gave him the phone two weeks ago. He didn’t give you any tips in that time?”

  “Nothing yet. I guess I’ll have to write him off. If he’s in the hospital, he won’t be giving me anything anytime soon.”

  “You won’t hear from him even when he gets out of the hospital. His phone’s missing.”

  Veronica frowned.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? You’re sure it’s missing?”

  “We didn’t find it anywhere on him or in his things. He was hit on the head. Maybe he became disoriented, dropped it and someone found it.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Veronica dialed the number of the phone she’d given Kit, hit the speaker button and waited. Three rings later a young male voice answered.

  “Who is this?” Veronica asked.

  “Who are you?” the voice said.

  “Veronica Justice, reporter for the Vista Beach View. That’s my phone you’re using. I’d like it back.”

  A pause where
Rory imagined the person on the other end of the call was deciding what to say. “Is there a reward?” he finally said.

  Rory held up her hands and flashed ten fingers twice.

  Veronica nodded and said into the phone, “Twenty bucks.”

  “Forty.”

  “Thirty, but you have to give it to me right now.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at the pier by the snack shop.”

  Veronica hung up and the two women walked the short distance to the Vista Beach pier. Near the hut that served snacks a teenager in well-worn jeans and a t-shirt paced back and forth. When they approached him, he said, “One of you Veronica?”

  The reporter stepped forward. “That’s me. Do you have my phone?”

  “Where’s the money?”

  Veronica snapped her fingers.

  Rory dug two bills out of her jeans and handed them to the woman, who waved them in the air. “Before I give this to you, tell us where you found it.”

  The teen eyed the money hungrily and pointed in the general direction of the street. “Go right at the top of the hill. I found it on the sidewalk in front of the alley two blocks down.”

  “When?” Rory asked.

  “Last Friday around lunchtime. I don’t remember the exact time.”

  “Did you see anyone around?”

  He shook his head. “Can I have my money now?” He held the phone out to Veronica, who took it and turned it on. As the screen lit up, Rory said, “You’ve had it for almost a week. How did you keep it charged?”

  He nodded toward the man working in the snack shop. “He charged it for me. Where’s the money?”

  Veronica looked up from the phone. “I’m not giving it to you until I verify it’s mine.” She compared the number in the phone’s information section with the one listed in her book. “It’s the right one.” She handed the money to the teen, who grabbed it and left, almost running as he headed up the hill.

  “We have a good idea where Kit was attacked now,” Rory said. “Let’s see who he called.”

  She looked over Veronica’s shoulder as she examined the call list. Ignoring any calls made after the teen had found the cell phone, only one number was on it, called multiple times, the last time the morning Kit had lost the phone.

  “Do you recognize it?” Veronica said.

  After Rory shook her head, the reporter dialed the number and put it on speaker. Five rings later, the call went to voicemail and a female voice asked them to leave their name and number after the beep.

  Veronica looked at Rory. “Is that who I think it is?”

  Rory nodded and wondered why Kit had Willow’s phone number in his cell, and what they’d talked about the day she died.

  Chapter 16

  “What could the two of them have to talk about?” Veronica said. “From what I’ve heard about Willow, she didn’t think very highly of the homeless.”

  “Maybe she was more tolerant than everyone gave her credit for,” Rory said.

  “Scuttlebutt has it she was starting a petition for the city to change its laws and oust them from our streets. She wanted Vista Beach to outlaw giving out food too, like your church does every Friday. Thought it only brought more of them into the city. That doesn’t sound very tolerant to me.”

  “She lost some very expensive sunglasses recently and blamed a homeless person for stealing them. Maybe that’s why she started the petition.” Rory thought back to the conversation she had with Teresa two days before. “Her eyeglass case had her phone number on it. Maybe Kit was calling to say he found them. Sounds like something he would do, but I’m not sure that explains the multiple calls. Unless she wasn’t answering the phone and he didn’t want to leave a message.”

  “Did you see him with her glasses?”

  Rory visualized looking through Kit’s belongings. She hadn’t seen glasses among his things, but she could have missed them. “No, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t know where they were. He was at Willow’s Friday night. Maybe they had an appointment for him to return them. That could be why he left the hospital.” She made a mental note to ask Detective Green if the police had found Willow’s sunglasses in her house.

  “How do you know Kit was at Willow’s? Did he say something to you?”

  Rory shook her head. “A neighbor saw him. She said he was in her backyard, then suddenly left. He must have seen something that frightened him off. If only we knew what.”

  “I don’t think Willow and Kit talked at all. The calls didn’t last long.” Veronica scrolled through the list of incoming calls. “Whatever was going on between the two of them, it was one-sided. No phone calls from her to him.”

  “What about from other people?”

  “Just me. If he didn’t get her number from the eyeglass case, I wonder where he got it.”

  “Let me check something.” Rory looked through her wallet until she found a business card Willow had given her when she first opened her store. She compared the phone number on the card to the number in the cell phone. “It’s the same number. Kit probably picked up one of her business cards. She gave them to pretty much everyone she saw.”

  “We’ve learned all we can from this.” Veronica stuffed the phone in her tote bag. “You said someone hit Kit, right? Maybe they were fighting over those expensive sunglasses you’re talking about.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone could have thought there would be a big reward and wanted it for themselves. If you stamp your name on an eyeglass case, you really want it back.”

  “I doubt anyone thought the reward would be large enough to warrant a fight. Let’s go to the place where the phone was found and see if we can find anything there.”

  Minutes later, the two stood at the entrance of the alleyway the teen had pointed out and stared into the dimness. Even though they were close to the pier, the area was quiet. No pedestrians strode by on the sidewalk and few cars passed by on the street behind them.

  Rory stepped inside and turned around to face the entrance. The pier and ocean were visible from the mouth of the alley, but take two or three steps inside and you could have a private conversation no one would overhear or notice from the street. “This could be where Kit was hit. Let’s say he had an argument with someone, got hit, stumbled out of the alley and dropped his phone on the sidewalk, not realizing he did it. He could have wheeled his bike down to the beach and ended up under the pier where I found him.”

  Veronica glanced over at the pier. “That’s not very far. He could have had a delayed reaction from being hit and not collapsed until later.” She pulled a small flashlight out of her tote bag and shown it around the alley. “Is that blood?” She pointed the beam at a spot on the concrete.

  Rory bent down to examine it. “Could be. Hard to tell.” She stood up and peered into the gloom. “There’s something leaning against that wall. Point the light over there.”

  Veronica directed the flashlight to the place Rory had indicated, its beam highlighting a plank of wood.

  “That could have been used to hit him. Did any of your informants report hearing an argument or seeing anything suspicious around here last Friday?”

  “No, I would have looked into it if they had. But that doesn’t mean no one saw anything. I’ll contact everyone in my crew and see if they know anything that might be of help. I’ll even post about it on Vista Beach Confidential. Someone with information might come forward.” Veronica took photos of the wood and the alley. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything,” she said before she left.

  After calling Detective Green to tell him about their find, Rory checked out the rest of the alley while she waited for the police. Nothing else jumped out at her as being important.

  Once the detective and his crew arrived, she pointed out the piece of wood to him. As they collected evidence, he said, “We found the person who was selling that jewelry
online. I’d like you to come down to the station and see if you can identify her.” He gave instructions to the others before he and Rory headed to the police station.

  Inside the station, Rory followed him to an area where a black and white monitor sat on a desk, showing the Vista Beach police department’s interrogation room. She shuddered when she remembered her own experience in the claustrophobic room five months before.

  She shook off the bad memory and stared at the monitor, studying the girl sitting alone in a chair next to a table shoved up against the wall. Dressed in a tank top, the girl looked squeaky clean, an all-American type, not the kind of person Rory expected to be burglarizing homes or killing unsuspecting residents. “She looks young. How old is she?” she said to the detective, who stood beside her.

  “Eighteen. Do you recognize her? Could she have been one of the people you saw at Ms. Bingen’s house?”

  Rory folded her arms in front of her and leaned forward at the waist, studying the girl, who was twirling her long straight hair around her index finger over and over again. She stood up straight and shook her head. “She could be, but I’m not sure. Sorry, I wish I could say yes, she’s the one or no, she’s not, but I really can’t be sure. Do you think she’s part of this burglary ring? She doesn’t look the type.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive. I’m not ready to say yea or nay yet.”

  “She had Willow’s jewelry?”

  “She was selling the ring and watch you noticed on the auction site online. We found them when we searched her parents’ house.”

  “Are they here?” Rory looked out the door of the room into the station. She didn’t remember seeing anyone she would have pegged for concerned parents when she came in.

  “Neither one was home when we served the warrant. Their housekeeper didn’t know where they were, just that they’re out of town today.” He nodded toward the screen. “She’s an adult now. We don’t need their permission to question her.”