by Ella White
Drop Dead Shopper
Carriage Cove Mystery Book 2
Ella White
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Copyright © 2016 Ella White
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Chapter 1
For all the murder mysteries Vickie had read in her over fifty years of life, she had never seen a real dead body before. It was nothing like what she had expected.
On the cold winter ground, just in front of the music store, lay Lilli Graves’s body with a knife protruding from her abdomen. Her eyes fixed upward into the sky, cloudy and unseeing, the expression on her face was a curious combination of both surprise and worry. Though the blood had ceased to seep through her pea coat once her heart stopped beating, it had been enough to puddle all over the ground and onto Vickie’s coat. How in the world could someone have managed to stab Lilli in the middle of a crowd this size without anyone seeing?
Once Lilli’s body had been discovered, someone called the Eugene Police Station, and before Vickie knew it, the police had arrived. After they secured the area, they took her into custody. Being the only other person covered in blood aside from the victim only made matters worse.
Vickie had only been to the Carriage Cove Police Station a couple of times, but she was amazed at how it was nothing like the precinct in Eugene. Whereas her hometown’s station was a small, one-story building, this one was three stories tall with a huge lobby on the first floor filled with uncomfortable looking chairs. Beyond that were several hallways leading into various offices. The officers escorted her down a maze of one hallway after another before bringing her to the elevator.
They took her to the second floor, a place that appeared to be designated as some sort of processing center. There were various laboratories separated by glass walls and doors, which Vickie could only tell apart by the signs on the doors. The officers led her past rooms for trace evidence, fingerprints, toxicology, DNA, and ballistics before taking her to a small room at the end of the hallway. This was the only room with normal walls, and Vickie could immediately see why.
It was some sort of changing room. The police had already taken her bags, including the canvas one containing the rare novel by Dashiell Hammond, and now it looked like they wanted her clothing. Having read every murder mystery ever published (or at least she would have liked to believe she had), it made sense. Her clothing had Lilli’s blood on it, so it was evidence now. The male police officers left the room, leaving a female officer to watch over her as she stood behind a curtain and exchanged her clothes for a light grey shirt and pants. Once she was done she came out from behind the curtain only to find the officer glaring at her.
“You’re oddly calm about this,” she insinuated.
“There’s no point in getting worked up,” Vickie explained. “I know I need to give you my clothes for evidence and a statement of what happened. I get the routine.”
The officer sneered. “Do you really know why you’re here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were found with the victim’s blood on your clothes and you were right next to her when she was stabbed,” the officer sneered, listing off each reason by counting on her fingers. “You had the means and the opportunity, although I don’t know for the life of me why you would choose to kill the poor girl in broad daylight.”
“You think I’m the one who killed her?” Vickie shouted. She couldn’t help but be a little surprised by this revelation.
“You think you can convince us you didn’t?”
“I think you need some evidence before you start throwing false accusations around.”
The officer’s only response to that was to grab Vickie by her arm and drag her out of the room. They proceeded to towards the elevator, but this time instead of taking the elevator, the officer forced her to climb the stairs.
As the officer angrily dragged Vickie up the steps, she found herself becoming nervous. I’m the number one suspect? she thought. Why? Simply because I had Lilli’s blood on me when the police found me? She thought a moment about the situation from their position and figured if she had come upon a crime scene with a woman covered in the victim’s blood, she might suspect the same. But that didn’t mean they had to treat her so roughly. Vickie was innocent. She just had to convince them she had nothing to do with Lilli’s murder.
No use getting worked up about it, Vickie thought as she climbed the steps. I just need to keep my head about this. They don’t have anything to convict me.
The top floor was apparently where the interrogation rooms were located, as each door was labeled with a sign stating as much. The hallway was distinctly blank and sterile, and Vickie couldn’t help but think the police had designed it that way on purpose as part of a scare tactic. She was led to Interrogation Room 7. Vickie kept her head up and proud. She wasn’t going to let these people intimidate her into a false confession.
Vickie sat at the table all alone for at least an hour. They had taken her watch along with the rest of her belongings, so she had no idea what time it really was. The officers had also left her with a plastic cup of water. Vickie smiled. She knew exactly what that was supposed to be for.
Knowing that forcing her to wait was another intimidation tactic, Vickie sat patiently, alternating between whistling a tune and reciting the twelve steps of Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey”, which she had written her thesis on in graduate school years ago. She was sure she was being videotaped as well, although she couldn’t see the camera anywhere.
Eventually, one of the older officers came in, followed by the female officer from before. The man carried a few sheets of paper with him, which were actually enlarged photographs, and the latter carried a large black suitcase. The man sat in the chair opposite of Vickie, while the woman remained standing. Vickie could see both their badges now, identifying them as Officer Brian Peterson and Officer Julia Sanders. Officer Peterson looked like he had been on the force for decades at least but had never moved up in rank, while Officer Sanders just looked smug. She was acting like she had already solved the mystery. Vickie watched them both for several seconds as they sat there in silence.
But Vickie wasn’t going to play their little game. She continued to wait patiently for one of them to speak. Officer Peterson finally addressed her.
“Mrs. Victoria Matheson?” he asked, with his hands folded on the table. “From Carriage Cove, Oregon?”
“That’s me,” Vickie replied, forcing her breathing to remain steady even though it felt like her heart was beating a mile a minute.
“What brings you to Eugene today?” His words were friendly, but his tone betrayed his façade.
“I was picking up a book from a secondhand bookstore,” she explained. “I had decided to make a small trip of it and get some holiday shopping done instead of having the book mailed to my address.”
“And did you get any shopping done?” Perhaps he was looking for an alibi.
“No, I only had just picked up the book before…” Vickie trailed off for a moment. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“True, true.” Officer Peterson spread the photographs out onto the table while Officer Sanders continued to lo
ok on impatiently.
“You recognize this scene, of course?” He pushed one picture towards her. “This was earlier today.”
“Of course I recognize it.” Vickie closed her eyes and let out a sad sigh. “That’s Lilli.”
In the photograph, Lilli was lying on the ground with the knife in her belly.
Officer Sanders perked up. “You know her?”
“Her name is Lilli Graves, and she’s my employee,” she replied. “I own the Sip and Read Café in Carriage Cove. Lilli’s been working for me for the last few months while she’s been taking classes at the university.”
“Was she a good student?” Officer Peterson inquired.
“I’m not sure. She never spoke about her classes or anything.”
“Was she a good employee?”
Vickie paused. She didn’t want to speak badly of the young woman, especially now that she was dead, but she decided she needed to be as honest as possible.
“Not particularly,” Vickie finally answered. “She was frequently late and easily distracted.”
Officer Peterson wrote this down in his notebook. “Has she ever stolen from you? Slandered you? Destroyed your property?”
“I would have known if she had, not that I’ve heard of, and I’m pretty sure no.” Vickie replied, answering each question in order. “I don’t think Lilli was a bad person, just not the best employee.”
“Why didn’t you just fire her?”
“I’ve thought about it, but I like giving people a chance.”
“Maybe you really thought it would just be easier to kill her!” Officer Sanders suddenly burst out while slamming her palms onto the table. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Seriously? That’s a pretty big assumption to make,” Vickie teased. “From wanting to sack her to suddenly wanting to kill her? What would that accomplish?”
“Your reputation for not firing employees would still be intact!”
“You really think I would care about that so much that I would kill someone over it? Really?”
“People have killed for lesser reasons,” grumbled Officer Sanders as she straightened herself and crossed her arms. “And it would get an irritating employee off your hands.”
Vickie stared at her with her right eyebrow raised at the almost obtuse statement. “I didn’t have anything to do with Lilli’s death. She was trying to warn me about something when the crowd surrounded us. Next thing I knew, she had been stabbed.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Julia, please,” Officer Peterson sighed, finally breaking up the argument, although he didn’t seem too inclined to have done so. “Mrs. Matheson, we are here to take a statement and go over the evidence we have gathered so far, to see if you can provide us with any leads.”
Vickie was doubtful of his words and was about to tell him so when the door to the interrogation room burst open, revealing Susan Miles in all her chief of police glory. Her short red hair was hidden under her cap, although her cheeks displayed a similar shade of red. She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the other police officers, and she snarled.
“Hey, no one’s allowed in here right now!” Officer Sanders snapped.
Behind Susan was another officer, a younger man trying to catch his breath after chasing the older woman. “Sorry, officers. I tried to stop her—”
“Any officer can be involved in a murder investigation if it involves someone who resides in their district,” Susan recited. Vickie had to remember to ask the chief for a copy of their handbook at some point. “I already got permission from the commissioner,” she continued. It’s right here.”
Susan shoved a sheet of paper over to Officer Peterson, who grabbed it and quickly read the text. Vickie could tell he was stifling a growl by the way his lips pressed thinly together, and he sighed.
“Fine, you can stay.”
“I take it you have at least read Mrs. Matheson the Miranda Rights?” Susan inquired as she strolled around the table to stand next to Vickie. She watched as Officer Sanders’s face turned red. Susan’s eyebrows jumped to her hairline. “You didn’t read them.”
“Officer Sanders,” the tone in Brian’s voice dropped a few octaves, “you didn’t do something as simple as reading the suspect the Miranda Rights?”
Julia became even more flustered. “I thought you did!”
“Even if I had, you should have made sure to read them to her again,” Officer Peterson reprimanded her. He turned back to Vickie. “Back to my questions—”
“Before that, first show me the evidence you have against Mrs. Matheson,” Susan interrupted. Brian glared at her, seemingly attempting to make her stand down, but of course Susan Miles never let anyone boss her around. “I need to be up to speed on the case.”
“That can wait until I’m finished questioning the suspect,” he argued back.
“A suspect who may not actually be a suspect based on the evidence you have,” Susan insisted. Officer Peterson continued to glower at her, but she didn’t back down at all. “Do I need to bring the commissioner into this? I’m sure he would love to hear from me again.”
Officer Peterson let out a long exhale and chose to back down. He reorganized the photographs again, this time showing the pictures of Vickie’s blood-soaked clothing.
“The victim’s blood was all over the suspect’s clothing,” he explained, pointing to the picture. “As you can see, the killer would be the person with the blood on their clothes. You can’t deny that.”
Susan took one glimpse at the photograph before smiling. “Vickie, you know plenty about forensics from all the reading you do. What’s wrong with this picture, literally?”
Vickie pulled the picture towards her. Most of the blood spatter had smeared onto her chest and part of her stomach, partly because Lilli was so much taller than Vickie, but there was no blood anywhere else.
“There’s no blood on the sleeves,” Vickie noted, pointing to her coat in the photo. “It’s only on the stomach.”
“With the victim being in such close proximity to the killer, there would have to be blood on the killer’s hands and sleeves,” Susan explained. She pointed to a photograph of the weapon that had been removed from the body in order to perform an autopsy. “See? There is even blood on the handle here.”
“What?” Officer Sanders grabbed the photograph and held it up to her face. After a few moments she lowered it, looking quite disappointed. “She’s right.”
“Shall I presume you didn’t have Mrs. Matheson wash up before bringing her here?” Susan plied. Officer Peterson looked at his subordinate, and she shook her head. Chief Miles gently took Vickie’s hands and held them out, flipping them over several times to show how clean her hands still were. “I don’t believe I see any blood here.”
“We need to check with Luminol to make sure!” Officer Sanders demanded.
“Of course. We must follow procedure after all. Do you have it?” Julia looked like she wanted to protest again, but she gradually deflated and grabbed the Luminol spray bottle from her black case. A few sprays on Vickie’s hands revealed no latent blood, and Susan gave a solemn nod. “And there you have it.”
“But the blood is still on her coat!” Officer Sanders yelled. Officer Peterson’s shoulders slumped.
“Anyone with basic education about blood spatter analysis will see that the stain is a very distinct smear,” Chief Miles argued, her voice deep and steady. “This is indicative of secondary transfer.”
“But—”
“In addition, while you two were focused on slamming Mrs. Matheson with accusations, I compared Lilli Graves’s height to Mrs. Matheson’s in reference to the angle of the stab,” Susan continued. “Mrs. Matheson would have needed to hold the knife forward and at the level of her chest to make that kind of wound, and hiding a knife in that position would have been impossible.”
Officers Peterson and Sanders stared at the photographs, all their evidence revealing their mistakes instead of Vickie’s. V
ickie smiled, knowing they had no leg to stand on.
“Are there any more questions, officers?” Vickie asked politely.
Officer Peterson shook his head and closed his eyes. “No, Mrs. Matheson. You may leave.”
“But surely she needs to stay in custody.” said Julia, waving her hands. “She lives in Carriage Cove! We’ll need easy access to her in case anything else comes up!”
“That’s already taken care of,” Chief Miles reassured her. “Because Vickie lives in the next town over, the commissioner has allowed me to take Vickie home. I will be the liaison between you.”
“May I take my things home too?” Vickie requested. “My book…”
“Yes, let’s get your belongings back,” Susan agreed. “Except for the clothing, unfortunately. Because of the blood on them, they are evidence now.”
“That’s fine,” Vickie conceded as Susan led her out of the interrogation room. “As long as I can get my book and my bags.”
Susan led Vickie back to the room where her possessions had been kept. She was able to get back everything except her clothing, as Susan had previously explained, and her purse and rare book were still in perfect shape. Vickie sighed in relief when she saw the novel she had spent a fair chunk of money on was undamaged.
“I already called your husband,” Susan shared as they left the building. “He’s coming down with your daughter to pick up your car. He wanted to come see you here, but I assured him I would have better luck getting you out of there than he would.”
Vickie grinned. “That’s my Thomas. Always ready to jump to my aid.”
“You’re lucky to have someone like him.” Susan unlocked her car and sat in the driver’s seat. “And that daughter of yours. She was just as worried.”
Vickie got into the car and put on her seatbelt. She dug through her purse as Susan drove the car out of the parking lot. Susan glanced over for a split second before fixing her eyes on the road.
“Everything there?”
