A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

  The girl’s eyes widened and she pushed her sleeves down. Embarrassed to be caught staring, Rory said, “Let me know if you need any help,” and focused her attention on adding the pens to the display.

  A sudden gust of wind sent a bottle of varnish rolling onto the sidewalk. The teen chased it and put it back on the table. Rory smiled her thanks. The girl mumbled something Rory couldn’t quite hear and returned her attention to the table.

  Rory was studying the changes to the display when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl pick up several bottles of paint and examine the labels. After a quick look around, she stuffed the bottles in the pocket of her hoodie and walked away.

  “Hey!” Rory said, starting after her.

  The girl looked behind her. When she saw she was being followed, she pushed her way through the crowd and sprinted down the street.

  Rory shouted “Stop her!” in a loud voice and took off after the fleeing thief. People looked around in confusion, staring at the runners. As they ran by Monica’s Treasures, the store owner grabbed at the girl’s sweatshirt, but she wriggled out of her grasp. Taller than most people around her, Rory was able to keep her eyes on the teen as she weaved in and out of the crowd.

  The girl slowed down when she almost collided with a couple walking side by side down the sidewalk, pushing a double-wide stroller in front of them. Rory was within arm’s distance of her prey, reaching out for the sleeve of the thief’s sweatshirt, when she darted into the street. A horn honked and a car slammed on its brakes, narrowly missing her. The girl barely acknowledged the near accident and ran down the street around the family that had been blocking her path.

  The car started forward again. Rory held up her hand and raced into the street. The sedan stopped once again, its driver shouting obscenities at her as she followed the girl back onto the sidewalk and down the block. Rory dashed around a group standing in front of the Akaw, almost running into a rack of bicycles, one of many sprinkled throughout the city for anyone to borrow free of charge.

  At an intersection, the girl sprinted ahead and rounded a corner. Rory thought she’d lost her and had almost given up hope of finding her again when the crowd parted and she spotted her tossing a plastic bag into a trashcan halfway down the hill.

  Rory sped after her, but by the time she reached the garbage can, the girl had disappeared into the crowd. Hands on her thighs, Rory bent at the waist to catch her breath. Once she recovered, she pulled the plastic bag out of the trash can and opened it. Inside, instead of the stolen merchandise she thought she would see was an unexpected prize—a Ziploc bag with an SD card inside.

  At the sight of the card, something clicked in her mind and images of the two intruders at Willow’s house flooded her brain, including one of a black hoodie and the scar on one of their arms that she hadn’t remembered seeing until now. This girl was one of the intruders and this was the missing SD card from the camera, she was sure of it.

  Rory stared down at the card, puzzled by what she found. If the girl had the card why would she bring attention to herself by stealing paint? And why did she still have it two days after she took it? If she’d been hired to get the SD card by Lance or someone else, wouldn’t they have wanted to get it from her as soon as possible?

  With the unanswered questions swirling through her mind, she put the card back in the plastic bag, tucked it under her right arm and headed back to her mother’s store. Half a block from the Akaw hotel, a knot of people blocked the sidewalk, forcing her to walk out into the street to get around them. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to call Detective Green and report her find. A pedestrian going around the crowd, coming toward her, jostled her arm, causing her to drop her phone. She was bending down to pick it up when someone grabbed the plastic bag out from under her arm.

  An involuntary “Hey!” sprang from her lips. Rory spun around to see if she could spot the thief. Someone on a blue bike raced down the street. She grabbed one of the beach cruisers from the rack next to the hotel and chased after the thief.

  She kept an eye on the patch of blue now far ahead of her as she pedaled, pumping hard. She maneuvered the bicycle down the street and around the corner. She was narrowing the gap when the other bicyclist raced across the intersection through a red light, narrowly missing being hit by a car. She kept an eye on the spot of blue as it went around a corner. When the light turned green seconds later, she raced after the thief. She’d almost reached the turn when a dog ran into the street in front of her. She steered her bike sharply to the right and braked hard, losing her balance and falling off the bike onto the pavement. By the time she righted herself and she made it around the corner, the blue bike was nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 18

  Rory kicked the bottom of the front counter in Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint in frustration. “I had it in my hands! The video that could tell us who killed Willow was in my hands and I lost it!” she said to Detective Green and her mother, who were standing near her on the sales floor.

  “Stop kicking the counter. Sit down and let me take care of that scrape before it gets infected.” Arika pointed to the stool next to the cash register. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got some bandages in the office.” She headed toward the back room while Rory obeyed her mother’s orders and sat down.

  The half dozen customers in the store glanced up from their shopping and eyed her curiously.

  Detective Green stood calmly to one side and let her fume. Fifteen minutes had passed since Rory had given chase to the thieves. After returning the bicycle she borrowed to the rack near the Akaw, she called the detective and told him what happened before returning to the store.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with you. You interfere with crime scenes, investigate when you’re not supposed to and now chase after thieves. You could have ended up with a worse injury than a scrape.”

  “I couldn’t let either of them get away with it.”

  “I would have thought your past experiences would have stopped you from acting so foolishly. I have half a mind to ask your parents to knock some sense into you.”

  Arika returned to the sales floor carrying a first-aid kit. “Don’t bother, we’ve tried. She’s a stubborn one.” She set the kit on the counter and began cleaning and bandaging the scrape on her daughter’s arm.

  “You’re sure the girl is one of the two you saw at Ms. Bingen’s house?” the detective said.

  “I’m positive.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “The scar.” Rory winced as her mother wiped away the dried blood on her arm.

  He looked through his notebook and frowned. “Scar? You didn’t say anything about a scar before.”

  “I forgot about it until I saw her today. She had a scar on her right arm from the palm of her hand halfway up her forearm.” Rory traced a line on her own forearm indicating the length and position of the scar.

  “Would you recognize her again?”

  “Definitely. I wish we had that bag or at least one of the bottles of paint she stole. You might have gotten prints off them.”

  “Did she touch anything else?”

  Rory cast her mind back to the period before the teen had stolen the paint, trying to remember her actions. “She grabbed a bottle that fell off the table.”

  “Show me.”

  “Not until I finish this,” Arika said in a stern voice.

  As soon as the bandage was on, Rory led the way outside and pointed to several bottles on the table. “It was one of those.”

  Detective Green gathered all the bottles of varnish and placed them in evidence bags, being careful to touch only the tops. “It’s a long shot, but her prints could be in the system. If she stole the paint, she might have stolen other things. What about the person on the bike? Could it have been her?”

  “I don’t think so
. I didn’t get a very good look, but whoever it was was taller. It might have been the other burglar.”

  “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  “Did you ask Lance about the camera? Did he hire this girl?”

  “He denied knowing anything about it, then lawyered up.”

  “What about the bicycle? Do you think you’ll find it?” Rory asked.

  “Maybe. Whoever it was probably ditched it somewhere. We’ll keep an eye out for it. I’ll let you know if we find anything.” The detective headed down the street, evidence bags in hand.

  Rory was on her way back inside when Liz wended her way through the crowd toward the store.

  “What was Dashing D doing here?” Liz stared at the bandage on Rory’s arm. “What happened to you?”

  “Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.” She led the way through the sales floor into the empty classroom where they had more privacy.

  “Why would the girl throw the card in the trash?” Liz asked after Rory had brought her up to date. “And why did she take it in the first place? She could pawn the camera, sure, but the card? Doesn’t make sense.” Her eyes opened wide. “Unless they killed Willow and came back for the evidence.”

  “But how would they even know the camera was there? It was hidden. Only the person who put it there would know about it.”

  “That must have been Willow. It’s her house. Who else would have done it?”

  “Three people had keys to the place. Chief Marshall, since he owns it, Willow and Lance. Don’t forget he lives there part time. I don’t think it’s the chief. When they found the camera, he didn’t seem to know what it was at first. I don’t think he’s that good an actor.”

  “That leaves Wispy Willow and Lance,” Liz said. “He thought she was having a secret affair. Maybe he planted it to catch her in the act.”

  “Lance told the police he didn’t know anything about it, but he was looking in that same spot the other day. I’m pretty sure he knew it was there even if he didn’t plant it. There’s another possibility.” Rory spotted a woman hovering around the door to the classroom and lowered her voice so the customer wouldn’t hear. “Willow could have planted it herself and used it to blackmail people. Remember that personal trainer, Big Jim? He was seeing her at her home so no one would know he had health problems. Maybe there were others.”

  “Willow a blackmailer?” Liz considered the possibility. “I suppose it’s possible. Teresa said she had money. Maybe that’s how she got it and maybe her killer was someone who was tired of paying.”

  “There’s a problem with that theory though. If she was blackmailing people, the only ones who would bother paying would be public figures who would lose something big if anyone found out. Do you know anyone around town that fits that description?”

  “Like a celebrity or sports figure? Nobody I can think of. They all seem to prefer living in other cities.” Liz stared wistfully off into space as if imagining the money she could make from the sale of homes to athletes and television stars. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone has heard any rumors about her blackmailing people. That still doesn’t explain how they knew about the camera.”

  “Willow could have told them there was one. If you were blackmailing someone wouldn’t you show them the footage?”

  “I doubt the girl you saw was being blackmailed. From what you said, it didn’t look like she had any money.”

  “No, but someone could have hired her to retrieve it. The killer could have guessed where the camera might be and told her to concentrate on the bookshelf. Even though he denies it, my bet’s on Lance.”

  Liz pounded her fist on the table and said excitedly, “And the trashcan was the drop point. Just like in the movies. But what about the bicyclist?”

  “Could be the person who was supposed to pick up the bag. Maybe the bike will tell us more. Come on. Let’s go find it.”

  Rory grabbed her phone off the table and headed out the door.

  They kept their eyes out for an abandoned blue bike as they walked toward the area where the bicyclist had taken the bag from her. Liz stared at the racks of beach cruisers near the Akaw. “What if the thief returned it here? How would we find it among all of these?”

  “Too many people around. I doubt they’d return it, at least not here. But they did have to borrow it in the first place.” Rory pointed toward a man in a red vest who was running toward a stand not far from the rack of bikes. “There’s the hotel valet. Maybe he remembers someone taking it.”

  They asked him if he remembered anyone borrowing bikes earlier that day. He couldn’t give them a description of anyone who had, but he’d been busy parking cars and wasn’t always at his station.

  “Whoever it was could have borrowed it another day anyway, or dropped it off at any of the other racks around the city,” Liz said. “Where did you go from here?”

  They took the same path Rory had taken in her chase, looking in each alley that they passed for the distinctive blue bike. They almost crowed in triumph when they saw one leaning against a wall on the next block, but their hopes were dashed when it didn’t have the city’s logo on it and the owner turned out to be an older man in his seventies.

  Once they reached the point where Rory had last seen the biker, they stopped to consider which direction to take.

  “Let’s go this way.” Rory pointed to an alley that ran behind some houses. “There’s not much traffic there. It would be a good place to ditch it.”

  They headed down the alley that was barely wide enough for one car, Rory looking on the right side, Liz the left, checking every place where a bicycle could be hidden. They’d almost given up hope when they spotted a man staring at something in his garage. Holding a gallon container of bleach in one hand, he scratched his head in puzzlement.

  “Is that your bike?” Rory pointed to the blue beach cruiser with the city logo on it.

  “No, and I have no idea where it came from. It wasn’t there when I went inside a couple hours ago. I got distracted and forgot to close the garage door. When I came outside a little while ago I found it.” He reached his free hand toward it.

  “Don’t touch it,” Rory said. “It might have been used in a crime.”

  “What’s that smell?” Liz asked.

  Rory sniffed the air. “I think it’s bleach.” She pointed at the bottle the man held. “Is that empty?”

  “It is now, but it wasn’t earlier today, and I didn’t empty it.”

  Rory moved closer to the bike and bent down to smell it, being careful not to touch anything. “I think someone doused it in bleach. Probably wiped all the prints off it too. I’d better call the police and let them know we found it. What’s the address here?”

  The man told her, then shook his head in disbelief.

  Rory called Detective Green and gave him the address. She hung up and the three of them waited for the police to arrive.

  Chapter 19

  “Pavement is their canvas, pastel chalk their medium,” a man dressed as Leonardo da Vinci shouted to passersby. Standing at the top of the hill leading down to the Vista Beach pier, he held up a copy of a printed brochure with one hand, high enough so everyone could see it. “Read all about the artists. Only two dollars. Proceeds go toward providing art supplies for kids who can’t afford them.” He repeated his spiel over and over again, thanking anyone who bought a brochure with a sweeping bow.

  On this Saturday, the street from the top of the hill down to the pier was blocked off, giving pedestrians free rein of the road down to the ocean. Classic rock music from a band playing on a temporary stage in the parking lot next to the pier wafted over the area, carried inland on an ocean breeze.

  Rory stood in the middle of the street and flipped through her brochure, passing over the biographies of the participating artists and the band schedule until she got to the last two pages. “
Here’s a map of all the areas where there’s artwork.”

  Liz turned to the same pages in her own brochure. “Looks like it’s taken over two parking lots and the entire pier. Where should we go first?”

  Rory pointed to one of the spots on the map. “Let’s start with the kids’ area. It’s closest. We can work our way down to the pier.”

  The two headed down the hill past a group clustered around a juggler teaching the onlookers how to keep three balls in the air and a woman dressed as a belly dancer handing out takeout menus for a local Moroccan restaurant.

  “Too bad Kit can’t be here,” Rory said. “He would like this.”

  “He was hit near here, wasn’t he?” Liz looked at the sea of faces around them. “Do you think whoever did it is here today?”

  “Maybe.”

  They were almost at their destination when Liz nodded toward a muscular man in shorts and a tight tank top, handing out flyers. “I think that’s Big Jim. He matches the description Doug gave me. Have you talked to him yet?”

  “Not yet. No time like the present.”

  Big Jim handed both of them flyers. “You two ladies interested in personal training? We have a two-for-one special going on right now. An hour a day, three days a week, I can get you two in shape in no time. I’m Jim.”

  “I’m Rory, this is Liz.” Rory studied the gym flyer while she collected her thoughts. “My friend’s already a member, but I’m considering joining. Another trainer, Lance, gave me a tour the other day.”

  Big Jim scowled. “I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

  “Why?”

  “The guy has anger issues.”

  “We heard he had a fight with another trainer,” Liz said. “Was that you?”

  He held up both hands. “Wasn’t my fault. I was just defending myself.”

  “We know.” Rory lowered her voice. “Willow was my neighbor. I heard she sometimes saw clients at her house.”

  “Whoa! You’re not trying to pin that on me, are you? I don’t know anything about her death.”