by C Farren
“I shouldn’t really gossip,” said Mrs. Rison. “But I have nothing better to do.” The old woman cleared her throat. “All I do know is that one day Garrett’s father told me he was ashamed of Katie for something. It was about twenty-one, twenty-two years ago, I can’t remember when. It was before the boy was born. The only reason I remember it is because I’d never seen him look so disappointed before.”
“You think Katie did something bad?”
“I honestly couldn’t say. I never did find out what it was. Anyway, I have to go. If Casper is staying with you, I’d like to get a new cat, maybe three. I don’t like to have only my own thoughts for company.”
They said goodbye, and Wren promised to visit once her father was cleared of murder, and she hung up. She had a lot to think about. What had Katie done that was so bad that she’d made her father-in-law ashamed of her?
“Where did the ginger cat come from?” Fiona asked, flitting into the kitchen.
“You must be color blind,” said Wren. She slipped her cell back into her pocket. “The new cat is black.”
Fiona shook her head and pointed. “No. Look. It’s ginger.”
The angel was right. There was another cat in her kitchen, sharing from the food bowl with both Gracie and Casper.
“Am I turning my house into a hostel for cats?” Wren exclaimed. She’d had enough. “Go on! Get out!”
All three felines made a run for it, exiting through the back-door cat flap. Wren tried to call Gracie back, but she wouldn’t listen.
“So, what are we up to today?” Fiona asked. She removed a box of cereal from the cupboard and stared at the ingredients list. “Why is there so much sugar in this? Should you be buying this?”
“I made up a list of suspects last night,” said Wren proudly. She took a sip from her half full coffee mug. It was cold. She liked cold coffee. “And we’re going to talk to each and every one of them.”
“Good idea.”
“Though I am worried. What if someone attacks me? I know a little taekwondo, but what if it’s not enough?”
They made breakfast, which was hardboiled eggs, a glass of grape juice, and two slices of toasted whole meal bread. Wren finished it off with two more cups of coffee and an apple.
“Have you heard anything from Jordan?” Fiona asked.
“Nothing,” said Wren. “He must be devastated.”
“Unless he killed Garrett.”
“I’d like to believe he wouldn’t kill his own father but I need to keep an open mind. My father’s reputation depends on it.”
She knew her father’s reputation was already in tatters. His arrest was all over the county papers and local stations, though thankfully they hadn’t revealed his criminal past. Sheriff Fisher must have worked hard to keep that information from the press. If the rest of the town knew what her parents used to do for a living, and that they’d been in jail, they’d be social pariahs.
“What does this mean for the two of you?” said Fiona.
“There is no two of us,” Wren stated. “Or at least I don’t think there is.” She pondered their relationship before adding, “It’s not as if I’m in love with him or anything. It’s just lust.” She looked out of the window, watching a slow cloud that looked like a clown drift by. “Is it lust? Is it love? I honestly don’t know. All I do know is that he confuses me almost as much as he makes me feel special.”
“Just don’t drool all over him when we interrogate him.”
Wren was about to suggest they head out when she noticed a set of keys on the edge of the kitchen table. It was the keys for the Metropolis. She really should have handed those into the police.
“I have an idea,” said Wren. “There’s some place we should stop off first.”
Chapter 16
Main Street was always eerily quiet at eight in the morning. Most businesses didn’t open until at least nine or ten, and traffic was barely non-existent anyway. It was like walking through a ghost town.
“This reminds me of some of the Heavenly Suburbs,” said Fiona. “It makes me sad.”
They were walking past Van Clark’s Coffee House. Veronica was sat behind a table, slamming her fingers angrily against a laptop keyboard. She looked frazzled. Was she working on the books?
“What are the Heavenly Suburbs?” Wren asked.
Fiona’s world was utterly fascinating to her. Every morsel of information she found out about the afterlife made the universe a much bigger place.
“It’s sort of like a whole world with pre-built cities and parks and things like that,” Fiona explained. “It’s for people who did good in life, but not that good. It’s sort of like a 3-star Heaven. It’s nice enough, but...there’s better.”
“That sounds horrible. Who’d want to spend eternity in a place that’s just okay?”
The angel shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Who does make the rules?”
Fiona ignored her as they arrived at the Metropolitan. Wren sighed, vowing to ask the question again later. The angel was reluctant to even say there was such a thing as a higher being.
“It smells of bleach in here,” said Fiona as Wren unlocked the door.
They headed inside, and Wren locked the door behind her. She didn’t want anyone wandering in while she was scoping the place out. They’d think she was planning a robbery.
Like father like daughter...
“Where do we start?” Fiona asked.
“We’ll leave the crime scene until last,” said Wren. “We’ll try the back rooms first. Dad said he heard a weird sound from back there when he was robbing the place. Perhaps there’s something the police missed. Our local force isn’t exactly CSI: Miami.”
They headed through the door into the back passage. The carpet was brown and ancient, and the walls painted a grim mauve. It was like a dentist’s waiting room. She expected shrieks of terror as the dentist descended upon someone’s open mouth with a drill.
“This is like Hell’s waiting room,” said Fiona with a shiver.
Wren couldn’t help but laugh.
She headed into the break room as Fiona went into the bathroom. She didn’t expect to find much in there.
“Wren!”
Jordan was on the small couch by the vending machine. He had blankets wrapped over him and his hair was stuck up all over the place.
“Are you sleeping here?” she asked.
He yawned. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, have I?”
“I’m pretty sure you live in one of the biggest houses in Snowflake Bay.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
She watched him get up. He was wearing a baggy red t-shirt and a pair of extremely tight black boxer shorts. It was hard not to look, but she restrained herself. Jordan was going through a crisis. It would be wrong to leer.
“I want you to leave,” he said, pulling on a pair of jeans.
“I can’t leave,” Wren insisted. She closed the door behind her. “My father is being accused of this crime.”
“You’re not a detective.”
Wren knew she was going to get sick of that phrase sooner or later. It was already starting to make her feel less confident. She knew she wasn’t a detective, but did that mean she couldn’t give it a try for her father’s sake?
She crossed her arms. “Let’s start with where you were on the night of the murder.”
He sat by the small table in the room. “I’ve already told the police this.”
“Tell me.”
He looked tired and hungry. She figured he might be more responsive if he had something to eat. Wren ordered him a muesli bar from the vending machine and threw it to him. He caught it, opened the wrapper, and started eating.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I was at home all night in my bedroom,” he answered.
So far so good. “Can anyone corroborate this?”
“My mom was downstairs. I could hear the clinking of wine glasses and her cursing when she couldn
’t get the cork out of a wine bottle.”
He said it in such a deadpan manner that she almost laughed.
“Did she actually see you upstairs?” Wren asked.
“Not really.” He finished his muesli bar and tossed the wrapper in the bin. Wren filled the kettle as he continued. “I’d already told her I wasn’t speaking to her so she didn’t bother me. I don’t have an alibi but I didn’t do it. I was angry with my father but not enough to kill him. What happened that day when I punched him...it was a misunderstanding. I regretted it later, but I never got a chance to make things up.”
“Why did you punch him?”
“It’s a family matter. I can’t talk about it.”
She filled two mugs with cheap instant coffee. Quite why they had this muck in the break room of a coffee house she had no idea. It would do for now.
“Did you tell the police?” asked Wren.
“They asked, but I just told them I got worked up because he refused to pay my tuition.” He paused before adding, “It was a lie.”
“Tell me the real reason you hit him. It might have something to do with your father’s death.”
“I’m not sure how.”
“Please.”
The kettle clicked, and Wren made the coffees and sat down at the table with them. Jordan sipped his and sighed with pleasure. He was obviously not used to the finer things in life. She refused to drink hers. It looked like garbage can water.
“Aarna got me this weird gift for Christmas,” Jordan explained. “It was one of those DNA testing kits that trace back your ancestry”
“I did one of those,” said Wren, smiling. “I found out I’m 4 per-cent Native American on my mother’s side.”
Jordan’s stomach rumbled and a foul smell filled the air.
“Sorry,” he said, blushing. “My fault.”
“You do fart a lot,” she admitted. “Though it’s nothing to be ashamed of us. Everybody does it. I bet even Queen Elizabeth lets off a few times a day.”
She went to open the window. It was really stiff, and so she pushed on it. It made an almighty squeaking, creaking sound that was so loud it could wake the dead.
Was that the noise my dad heard that night?
Someone was escaping the premises after the murder.
Jordan continued as the smell he’d created drifted away. “She bought one for herself, and she was upset when she got her results back. She had white Scottish ancestors. I decided it was finally time to do my test, just to take her mind off her own results.”
“Why would Aarna be upset that she has Scottish ancestors?” Wren asked, not wanting to interrupt his flow, but curious.
“I think it’s the white ancestor’s thing. I don’t think she was expecting it. Her parents come from a rich Indian family, and they consider whites to be beneath them. Not that Aarna is racist in any way. Anyway, I sent my DNA off, along with that of my dad and mom too. I took some of their hair without asking. More samples help the results or something.”
Wren had a horrifying feeling that she knew where this was going. She only hoped she was wrong.
“Garrett wasn’t my biological father,” Jordan revealed. The words pained him. She wanted to take his hand and comfort him but didn’t think it was her place. “I got the phone call from the DNA ancestry place that day in the Metropolis. I was so angry I confronted him about it. I punched him. I accused him of always knowing but never saying anything. The truth was...the truth was he didn’t know. He had no idea. He thought he was my biological father.”
“It must have been a shock to him.”
“I didn’t give him time to respond. I just left, eventually ending up back home, where I confronted my mother about it. She told me some rubbish about a one-night stand while her and father were still dating and she didn’t know who my bio Dad was. I didn’t believe her and we argued. I really wanted to punch her too, if I’m honest.” He looked ashamed at this admission. “She was so...so nasty.”
Wren bit the bullet and reached across the table to take his hand. He pulled away.
“Katie came into the Metropolis later on and had a mighty row with Garrett,” said Wren, pretending Jordan’s rebuff never happened. “It was quite a show.”
“Really?” said Jordan, surprised. “She never said.”
“So, you don’t know who your biological father is.”
“No, but I’ll find out. I’m sure she knows. She’s just a liar.”
Jordan started to cry. Wren did the decent thing and gave him a hug. She realized then and there that she didn’t love him. He was attractive and he’d taken an interest in her after a very long romantic drought. She’d been flattered. There was nothing else to it.
“The DNA people told me something else,” he admitted. His eyes were wide with fear now. “They said I have this inherited condition called familial adenomatous polyposis, or FAP. I don’t really understand it yet, but it means I might be more at risk of developing bowel cancer.”
“Oh Jordan,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Things just keep getting better and better for me, right?”
He tried to kiss her.
“No,” she insisted. It took everything she had to push him away. He really was very, very attractive. She would even say beautiful. “This has to stop.”
“I need someone,” he said.
“You need your family. Talk to your mom. Make her tell you the truth.”
“You don’t understand what a cold-hearted woman she is. It was like being brought up by a robot. My dad was the one who comforted me when I was upset, and talked to me, and raised me.”
“She’s just lost her husband. Be there for each other. Maybe things can change.”
Wren hugged him again, gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and left him to it. She had all she needed from Jordan for now – unless he was lying about who his real father was. Did he know? And could it have something to do with Garrett’s death?
Fiona was waiting for her back in the coffee store. She was sitting at one of the tables, reading the menu. There was a box of pills on the table.
“I thought I’d leave you two to it,” said Fiona.
“We had a good talk,” said Wren. “I learned some juicy stuff.”
Wren told her all about Jordan’s father revelation, but it wasn’t news to her. She knew it all already.
“Why are you just nodding?” Wren asked, a little annoyed.
“The bathroom is right next to the break room,” Fiona explained. “The walls are very thin, and there’s an air circulation vent between the two rooms. I heard everything the both of you said.” Fiona grinned at Wren’s exasperated look. “Do you really think Katie doesn’t know who Jordan’s father is?”
“I don’t know. She’s next on our list.” Wren picked up the bottle of pills. “Laxatives. Do you have anything to tell me?”
“I found these in the bathroom.”
The morning that Garrett died Jordan had said his father had argued with Veronica over a bout of diarrhea with her customers. She’d accused him of sabotaging her business. Was this bottle of laxatives concrete proof that something shifty had gone on? Had Garrett spiked Veronica’s coffee supply?
“I wouldn’t have liked to be in Veronica’s coffee shop bathroom that morning,” Fiona quipped, trying not to laugh.
“This could’ve been serious,” said Wren. “Someone could’ve had an adverse reaction to this stuff.”
Fiona tapped the label on the side of the bottle. “This was issued to Katie Knowles last November. No wonder she’s so cold. She was probably bunged up.”
“Or she took laxatives to keep herself skinny. Yes, I can see that.”
Wren was now more confused than ever. She was gaining information on her suspects at such a fast pace. It was hard to keep up with it all. She did know that Jordan hadn’t killed his father.
But what if he did kill him?
Jordan worked out. He had an incredible, muscular physique, which she could att
est to personally. He would have the strength to bash his father with the metal tips jar hard enough he crashed into the coffee machine. Could a woman do that? Katie did yoga, she knew that much. She’d seen her once at the local yoga studio when she’d tried a class. Veronica was certainly capable. She had the wiry arms of an Olympic javelin thrower.
“Come on,” said Wren, eager to get on with things. “Let’s head off and interview Katie. I really want to know what she knows about Jordan’s father.”
“Don’t you have an appointment this afternoon?” Fiona reminded her.
Wren felt the bile rise. “Oh. Cedric. I suppose I better go. I need him on our side so he gets his brother to represent Dad.”
“Is Cedric’s brother really worth it? You’ll upset Reba.”
It was worth anything to spare her father jail. She was sure Reba would understand. Family came first.
Chapter 17
There was some sort of commotion going on at the drag bar when Wren arrived. There were several drag queens gathered near the bar counter, pointing and shouting at each other. One of them slapped another. Benedict entered the fray, in his male guise, and ended up with a knee to the groin for his troubles. He staggered over to greet her.
“I didn’t know the drag game was so brutal,” she commented, hiding a smirk.
“Are you kidding?” he said. The queens were still arguing. “Drag queens are some of the most brutal fighters I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t want to get on their bad side.”
“What’s got them so rattled?”
“A wig went missing. You never, ever mess with a queen’s wig.”
He laughed, and she joined in. He had a nice smile, genuine and wide, showing his perfect white teeth.
Wren noticed Cedric sat at a table. “I’m here to meet him. Wish me luck.”
“He used to be a regular you know,” Benedict revealed.
“What?” Wren was shocked. “Since when?”
“He used to come in all the time until about three years ago. I heard he got sick or something. This is the first time I’ve seen Ceddy since then. Odd fellow, a bit laid back, a bit boring, but he always let his hair down when he was here. He used to have the time of his life. Tell him we miss him.”
