Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1)
Page 17
As we left a puzzled Tim behind, we crossed the lawn to the car. “Well? What did you get in there? Did you find anything?” Ryan asked as he opened my door.
“Not that he believes in all that hooey,” Mitch added.
I walked through the grass to the open car door, but then my toe hit something I didn’t expect to find. I bent down and picked up a thin black cigar.
I pocketed the little cigar butt before Ryan or Mitch saw it.
Ryan started the car. “You know, Gabby, I’m not so sure you were a good guest. You couldn’t wait to get in Darla’s house and then you couldn’t wait to get out.”
“I saw Amelia.”
Mitch popped up from the backseat, stretching his seatbelt. “You saw Amelia? As in, dead Amelia?”
“Yes. She was very unhappy.”
Ryan nodded his head in disbelief. “You saw her in a vision or like she was standing there talking to you? Mitch, promise me you didn’t just get her released from a mental institution.”
He was right. I was crazy. I saw dead people. Call Bruce Willis.
“She was standing there in the doorway.” I touched my temple. “I’m getting a headache. Do we have any pain reliever at home?”
“I don’t think so,” Mitch said. “Why don’t I go to the grocery store and get you some. I might even try to put in an application while I’m there. Is it okay if I take the car?”
“Sure,” I answered.
Ryan reached over and touched my cheek. “I can drive Gabby home.”
Mitch smiled. “Uh huh.”
After dropping off Mitch, we drove in silence until he pulled into my driveway.
Ryan turned to me and took my hand in his. I was sure he was going to kiss me, but then he surprised me by asking, “Did she say anything? Amelia?”
“Not that I could understand. She wanted me to know something. She was frustrated. If Amelia could have said something, she would have.”
“Take a nap and then you can sort it all out.” He pulled me gently toward him and kissed me, making me think of what had happened between us last night. When he released me, he whispered, “I’m glad you saw her. I do believe in you now.”
Once inside my home, I lit a cigarette and felt my nerves calming. I knew I had to quit and vowed I would just as soon as I made sure Mitch wasn’t going to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. I opened my sketchbook. I had to know. I probably should have contacted Gigi, but I felt an urgency. I had to do this, now and alone.
I pulled the cigar butt from my pocket, holding its thin shaft between my fingers. I closed my eyes and hoped for some sort of a revelation concerning the killer. I wasn’t even sure if this cigar belonged to the murderer. There might be more than one person in Henry Park who smoked cigars. I could be tuning in anybody. As I held the object and brought it up to my nose, I knew this was what I smelled that night. I hadn’t smelled a cigarette; it was the rich, spicy smell of a specialty tobacco.
The waves starting to come over me as I centered on the cigar. A voice, like a machine, kept repeating in my head.
Checking. Double-checking. Always checking. Nervous.
Then I saw Amelia. She was smiling, and then the look on her face changed. Her soft blue eyes widened, and the joy left them. I realized I was looking out of the killer’s eyes. We were in the woods, there was something small and wiry between my fingers.
“No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong. You have to understand. I never meant to … You’re wrong.”
Checking. Nervous. No one can know. I must finish this. She knows. By the lake. She trusts me.
The thoughts kept running through my head over and over again until I felt like I was going crazy. These were the thoughts of a killer. Paranoid, pattern-oriented, repetitive. Over and over again the words came. I threw the cigar onto the carpet and took in a deep breath.
My brother spoke on the other side of the door. “Gabby? Are you in there?”
I stared at my sketchpad. It was a picture of Amelia. The Amelia I had seen in the doorway. Her eyes were wary as she searched around her. This must have been what she looked like before she was killed.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Mitch gently opened the door. “The grocery store said they’d call me for an interview, but the good news is I got another job. Can you believe it? I checked with Mrs. McFadden, and she says she has some stuff for me to do tomorrow. She paid me in advance because they’ll be out of town.” Mitch held up a stack of twenties.
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. This working thing is great. Especially when they pay you in advance. I really feel like I could start a life here, Gabby. Is that crazy?”
“Crazy.”
He glanced at my sketchpad. “Hey, what are you drawing? Is that Amelia? Is this how she looked when it happened?” Mitch grew somber. “She was so beautiful. Why did someone have to kill her? Who would do a thing like that?”
I put the sketchpad down and reached for my brother. “I don’t know, but maybe you and I can figure it out.”
My phone rang from my purse. I kicked the cigar under the couch on my way to getting it. My mother didn’t waste any time on hellos.
“Gabby, I’ve been rethinking our conversation. I don’t think the two of you are capable of making it.” My mother’s voice was so judgmental. That was it for me. It was my proverbial tipping point.
“We’re okay. I also need you to remember your son has just lost a friend and been accused of her murder, so why don’t you just lay off, okay?” There was a stunned silence on the other end, and then she wound up even tighter.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Gabriella. Unbelievably, your brother has now chalked up a murder on his list of screwups.”
How could a mother say that about her own son? I knew she was burned out, but this was too much. “Mom. I need you to stop. I’ll call you later.” I hung up. This was a life-changing moment for me, siding with the family loser, which in my mind always made me a loser. The thing was, he wasn’t a loser—a little confused and a little too much into seeking a party or a woman, but deep down he was a good guy. A better guy than the one my mother advertised. I had crossed over to the dark side of the family and … I liked where I was. It wasn’t about who the biggest success was, but how a family needs to stick together. I made my decision. I was sticking by Mitch.
After my conversation with my mother and the readings I got off the cigar, the idea of a nap became more and more distant. I debated whether I should talk to Sheriff Bennett and tell him some of the things I was feeling. It wasn’t precisely the statement of an eyewitness. Still, though, for Mitch’s sake I wanted to try. I thought about Amelia’s comments. She said she loved him too. Darla had to be the killer.
One thing I knew for sure—the killer was thinking about killing again.
“Feel like heading back to the sheriff’s office?” I asked.
“It depends on which side of the bars I’m on,” Mitch answered.
Chapter 32
I plopped the cigar butt on Sheriff Bennett’s desk. “Can you test this? You know, for DNA or something?”
“Why would I want to test that?” The sheriff asked, grabbing a piece of paper to put under the butt, which was now leaking tobacco onto his government-issued desk.
“Because,” Mitch said, “we think it belonged to Amelia’s killer.” I had filled Mitch in on the cigar as we drove to the Henry Park Police Department.
The sheriff gave us a sideways glance and squared his jaw, relaying his disbelief in our theory. “And how would you know something like that?”
My assumptions had been correct. I could tell the minute I said I had a psychic reading off of the cigar, he’d kick us out of his office. “You need to trust us on this one. Just test it.”
“You’re going to have to give me more than a smoked cigar to go on. What is the significance of the evidence?”
Mitch stared at the cigar butt as if trying to make a piece of a puzz
le fit in, then he blurted out, “Because Gabby smelled smoke. Cigar smoke, to be exact.”
The sheriff shifted his gaze to me now. “You never mentioned anything about smelling cigar smoke.”
“It came to me days later. I was out there to sneak a cigarette and mistook their smoke for mine. The truth was, I never lit my cigarette.”
“And where did you find this cigar?” the sheriff asked, pulling out a legal pad to write down our statements.
“Uh, is that important?” I asked. Darla and Tim’s house was miles from the crime scene. Once he knew where we actually found it, he’d file this evidence in the wastebasket.
“Very. How do I know you didn’t just pull this out of the trash at the coffee shop?”
“She found it in the woods, right next to the murder scene.”
That piqued the sheriff’s interest. “You did? I’m surprised my guys missed it. Well, this might actually be something after all.” He retrieved an evidence bag from his drawer and then used a tissue to pick up the cigar butt and put it inside. I remembered suddenly that both Mitch and I had handled the thing. If it did have prints, ours probably blurred it. I had to hope for the DNA.
“Do you have any idea who this cigar might have belonged to?”
“Darla. Check out Darla.”
He nodded. “Her again, huh? Are you sure there isn’t some sort of artist’s brawl going on between you two ladies?”
“Just check her out, okay?” He was right. Darla couldn’t stand the sight of me, and I wasn’t too fond of her.
“Fine. Darla is now at the top of my list.”
I began to wonder if I should start riding a bike to work. At least it wouldn’t be so bad when the brakes went out.
The sheriff pulled out a folded document from a file. “I was about to have this delivered to your lawyer. May as well give it to you. We have the date of Mitch’s arraignment.”
After we returned from the sheriff’s office, Mitch escaped to his room upstairs, and I snuggled on the couch with a blanket trying to catch a few hours’ sleep. As I sat there watching the afternoon sun play across the lawn, I realized the only way I was going to find Amelia’s killer was to set a trap. I pulled out my sketchbook, hoping I’d be able to come up with something. I had to have something to go on. I leaned over, poised with a pencil in my hand, and tried to make my racing thoughts be still and drift into an even flow.
As I calmed my mind, I started feeling like I was back at that night again, the night I stood in the darkened woods while a killer moved around me. My pencil began to move, and as I tried to channel my focus to the movement in the trees, a drawing started coming out of the lead. I worked steadily for the next ten minutes, always pulling myself back into the self-induced state of telekinesis. Every time my thoughts started to stray, I pulled back. Every time I pulled back, the face in front of me became clearer and clearer. When I put the pencil down and examined the face, it was definitely the face of a woman, and it seemed so familiar. But the face was contorted from anger, hatred, and evil intent radiating from this person. Now I knew I had to catch the killer.
I closed my sketchbook and leaned back in my chair. The first thing I needed was to make a list. No, the first thing I needed was a cigarette.
“Yo, Gabby?” Mitch stood at the door holding the phone. “Didn’t you hear the phone ringing?”
His messy hair and sleepy eyes told me he had been much more successful than I had at taking a nap.
“No. Who was on the phone?”
“Clarence. He says we’re all invited over to a little dinner party tonight to celebrate the final illustrations for finishing the book.”
Now that I had a drawing of the killer, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do next. I wasn’t even totally sure who it was. I knew I had to force this person out into the open, and maybe the dinner party would be a perfect way to do this. “Who is invited?”
“He didn’t give me the guest list, but I guess your new boyfriend, Ryan, will be there along with Tim and Darla. Those are the people who would be most interested in you guys finishing the illustrations.”
“Great. I guess we have a dinner date.” I picked up my phone and texted Gigi.
I think I’m close to knowing who it is. If I’m right, will share with the sheriff by tomorrow. Don’t tell. We need to be careful.
Chapter 33
“I have to say, Gabby, deciding to turn independent with my books was a little unnerving. Thank God I found you, or should I say my son found you.” Clarence smiled, while Ryan cleared his throat. “Your drawings made my characters come alive. It was like you were heaven-sent.” Clarence raised his glass to me.
The other guests around the table also reluctantly raised their glasses. Tim not only brought Darla; his other girlfriend, Katy, and her son, Timmy, were there too. I don’t know what I ever saw in the man. Bringing this group together was an act of punishment on all of them. Katy wore a sexy orange silk V-neck top designed to show the curve of her shoulders. She stood in direct contrast to Darla’s little black dress. At least Elise had the good graces to sit them on either end of the dining table.
Tonight we dined on a scrumptious pot roast with mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, and rolls so fluffy they could count as a meal in themselves. Afterward, there was Boston cream pie for dessert.
Ryan raised a toast toward me. “The wonders of the Internet. Who knew we could pick up a talent like Gabby’s online?”
“I’m sure it’s not the first time she’s been picked up online,” Darla said with just an edge of meanness in her voice. Her spite toward me might not even have much to do with me. I rationalized it might be a direct reaction to me, or it could be to Tim’s baby mama at the other end of the table.
“Well, I think she is a welcome addition to our little book family,” Tim said.
Darla’s black-and-white bracelets clanked as she threw her napkin on the table. “Honestly, Tim. It’s not like she married Ryan. She works for Clarence.”
“Why don’t you lay off of him, Darla? What are you, his mother?” Katy piped up, surprising us all.
Darla’s lips thinned. She threw her napkin and rose from the table. “I’m no longer hungry.”
I felt guilty for just a second as I rejoiced at Darla leaving the room. Had the sheriff called to interview her again? Could that be it?
Tim ignored his girlfriend’s stilettos clicking to the front room. “You know, I put my fist through a wall when all of this first happened because of Darla. I’m not going to let it upset me now.” He took a breath and turned toward Clarence, “Do you have any ideas for your next book?”
“I’ve been playing around with a few ideas. Now that I know I have an illustrator again, the world is my oyster.” Clarence’s eyes twinkled at me. I couldn’t help thinking how anxious I was to see how our first book would do once we started marketing it as an indie publication.
My gaze fell to Ryan. “I guess this means I’m staying.”
“Oh, yes.” Ryan stopped for a moment and stared at the ground. “Dad, as long as we’re talking about books and publishing, there’s something I’d like to share with you.”
“What? Please don’t tell me after learning how to publish my own book, the publisher wants me back?”
“No. Nothing like that.” He drew in a breath, heaving his shoulders upward. “You told me many times that whatever career path I chose, it shouldn’t be writing. I want you to know that I listened too, and I actually tried to …”
“Make your parachute a different color?” Mitch added, assuring me he’d been reading the career book.
“Sure. The thing is, you know how I’ve always loved reading the great writers of science fiction?”
Elise smiled and placed her hand on Ryan’s. “We do.” Could Elise already know about her son’s secret writing ambitions?
“I have a science fiction manuscript that was just accepted by a major publisher.”
Clarence’s eyes grew wide, first in confusion
and then in understanding. He glanced at Elise, who nodded.
“You do? You wrote a book? Congratulations, Son!” He pushed back his chair and patted Ryan on the back. “How did you keep this a secret for so long? I had no idea.”
“I know you didn’t. You’re a great writer, Dad, but there is no way your management requires that much paperwork.”
“And all those appointments?” I asked.
“I have an agent and an editor. We were finalizing things.”
“That’s wonderful,” Katy said. “You’re real big-time now. That means Tim might have to take on even more responsibilities. It will be more money for you and more for our little family.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard the sound of a magazine being slamming down in the next room. Darla’s temper tantrum continued. She couldn’t stand the fact I was becoming a fixture in her life.
Tim called out to her as if she were a child. “Darla, Elise made dessert. I know how much you secretly love desserts. Why don’t you come back to the table?”
“Don’t force her, Tim. She can sit there all day for all I care,” Katy said.
Mitch surprised us all when he pushed his chair back from the table. “Let me go talk to Darla.”
I stifled a snicker and noticed Clarence using his napkin to cover a smile. Mitch giving advice to Darla could have a rather odd outcome.
“Scoot your buns, Darla. I’m here for you, baby,” Mitch announced.
Everyone at the table could see the front room and the scene that was playing out. At that moment if Darla could have crawled under the sofa, she would have. One thing about Mitch, sometimes he had no filter. He was pretty shrewd at cutting to the thing that bothered you, whether you liked it or not.
Back in the dining room, Tim spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry for the way Darla is acting. I guess before all of you came along, she was pretty well the queen of the roost around here.”
Things at the table were winding down, and if I was going to try this thing, now was the time. I pulled out my phone, rude as it was, and sent a quick text to Gigi. If I was going out on a limb, I needed to leave a ladder somewhere.