You Better Knot Die cm-5

by Betty Hechtman

  He’d been the one to find me standing over a body once before. “Don’t say it,” I said, cringing, but he did anyway.

  “It’s like you’re some kind of crime-scene groupie.” If Barry heard, he ignored it.

  “I guess you know I won’t be getting this case,” Barry said. I nodded in understanding. He couldn’t investigate anything where he knew someone who was involved.

  He held on to both Dinah’s and my arm. Partly it was for support since we were both rubber kneed and partly it was to move us away from the area. He led us back to the short expanse of paved road where all the cops had parked. “Okay, you two, stay put.” He separated us and told us to wait to be questioned as if I didn’t know the drill.

  The police helicopter kept circling and was soon joined by news helicopters that stationed themselves in hover mode.

  It was almost twilight now. I heard a uniform say something about sifting through the area looking for the murder weapon. Sift through the area? I glanced around. We were in the mountains with a cliff that led to green mounds of scrub oaks as far as the eye could see. I hoped they had a lifetime.

  I had my fingers crossed on who would be doing the questioning, or more who I hoped wouldn’t be doing it. It turned out to be a waste of twisted fingers. Detective Heather Gilmore got out of another Crown Vic and went to talk to one of the officers.

  I called her Detective Heather in my head or when I was talking to Dinah about her. If there was a Barbie the homicide detective, she’d look like Detective Heather. We had a bit of a history. She’d questioned me a few times before when I had gotten in the middle of murders. The rest of our history had to do with Barry. She had wanted him and was annoyed that I had him. During the time Barry and I were broken up, they’d gone out enough times for him to figure that even with her hot body and hot looks, she wasn’t for him. Did I mention she was really smart, too? She seemed to have come to terms with the fact that there was going to be nothing between them.

  “Not you again,” Detective Heather said, walking toward me. Her curve-hugging dark blue suit and heels seemed at odds with the surroundings. Barry had been hanging around, but when she arrived, he had left.

  Detective Heather asked for my information as if she’d never heard it all before. It was only when she got to my age that she volunteered anything. “You’re fifty, right?” she said, pen poised.

  “No,” I said, “not until next year.” I knew it was her chance to make me feel old next to her late thirties. I thought she’d gotten over Barry, but maybe not.

  “So, tell me what happened,” she said, flipping her notebook to a new page. I glanced over to where her partner was talking to Dinah, who seemed very agitated and was pointing at her watch. The sky was translucent blue now and there was just a trace of lavender and pink near the horizon. In the distance coyotes were howling, announcing their dinnertime. It had been chilly to start with, but now was downright cold. I was glad for my sweatshirt hoodie, but could have done with a down vest over it. Some cops went by carrying big lights to set up around the crime scene.

  I gave her all the basic information about who Bradley was. She looked at my arms and pants. “Thanks, but let’s hear how you ended up with blood all over you.”

  I mentioned how it had seemed like Bradley was dead, then it seemed like he was alive, then dead again. “I was back to thinking he was alive and I thought his wife was meeting him.”

  “What made you think his wife was going to meet him?”

  I was dreading this part, but I plowed ahead anyway and told her about the afghan. I even offered to show her the photos I’d taken of Bradley holding the afghan. Unfortunately I clicked the wrong thing and a photo of Holstein appeared. Detective Heather didn’t seem amused.

  In the midst of it I stopped as I remembered the passport and the cash. Without thinking, I’d stuck it in the back pocket of my khakis. I pulled it out and handed it to her. To say the look she gave me was hopeless was an understatement. “Tampering with evidence,” she said as she made a note.

  I didn’t wait for her to ask but offered to be fingerprinted and give up a sample of my hair so they could eliminate them.

  Detective Heather wanted to know about Emily, but she made sure to tell me I was still a person of interest. It didn’t matter that I pointed out I had no motive.

  Down the way, Dinah finished with her questioner and, seeming agitated, took off. A uniform came over and said my friend apologized for leaving, but she had to pick up some kids.

  “If the wife left, why didn’t you pass her on the road?” Detective Heather said.

  I pointed out the other path. “You should check to see if her SUV is still parked on the street.” I described the location and the stickers on the back window. Detective Heather seemed less than pleased with me telling her what to do. She paused for a beat, then like it was her idea, took out her cell phone and punched in a number. Lucky her, she got a signal. She turned to me. “What kind of car is it? You don’t happen to know the license number?” I told her what I knew and she relayed the information.

  “Well?” I said when she hung up.

  “No black Element is parked on the street.” She began to ask me more questions about Emily. No matter what she’d said about me being a person of interest, it was obvious she’d now decided Emily was the guy.

  The lab people arrived and started processing the crime scene. I gave my samples and I was free to leave. There was only one problem. Dinah was my ride. Detective Heather was heading for her car. I had a pretty good idea where she was headed. I swallowed my pride and asked for a lift.

  She hesitated, but finally agreed and I followed her to the car. She let me out in front of my house before she pulled in front of the Perkins’ house. Ryder was walking down the street but stopped when he saw me. The look on his face, and the way he picked up his camera when he saw me, made me look down. It was the first time I noticed the front of my white shirt was splattered with blood. Ryder saw me checking out my shirt and gestured toward my pants. Blood was smeared around the pockets and the front had dirt and grass stains. He nodded toward my hair and I put my hands up to feel it. I could tell it was messy and clumped together. He made a face and I figured there was blood in my hair, too. I must look like an escapee from a horror movie. Now I understood Barry’s reaction.

  Ryder didn’t let up until I’d given him all the details. We stood at the end of my driveway and watched as Detective Heather walked up to the Perkins’ front door. I could only see body language as Emily stepped outside. The news about Bradley wasn’t something you said on the front porch, but Emily didn’t seem to want to invite her in.

  As I was watching the scene, something surfaced in my mind. When Dinah and I had looked at all of Bradley’s things, there was something we hadn’t seen. Where was the afghan?

  CHAPTER 21

  “SO, YOU FINALLY SHOWED UP.” ADELE CAUGHT me at the door when I finally got to the bookstore. I’d taken a long hot shower and scrubbed away any traces of blood, but I couldn’t scrub away the image of leaning over Bradley Perkins. Barry had said the first dead body you encountered was the worst, implying it got easier as you went along. I hadn’t planned on ever seeing another body after my first one, but that wasn’t how it worked out. I could speak from experience: It didn’t get easier, and if I saw a hundred, I’d never get immune. I’d taken my clothes, even the things that had no sign of blood, and put them all in a trash bag. I was glad for the cheerful atmosphere of Shedd & Royal and the sense of normalcy.

  Adele trailed along behind me, reminding me again how late I was and how she’d had to stay and cover for me even though she had plans. As self-absorbed as she was, she noticed I seemed a little off.

  “Pink, what’s up?” I muttered something about needing to talk to Mrs. Shedd. I felt obligated to tell her what happened. Adele pointed toward the table we’d set up for gift wrap. Mrs. Shedd was talking to some customers while she tore off a sheet of decorated paper. I had to give her credit
for keeping her spirits up, despite her loss, and joining us down in the trenches for the holidays. She cashiered, helped customers find books and now was even wrapping them.

  I waited until she handed the gift item back to the customer and they’d walked away before approaching her. Adele was still trailing me. “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “It’s okay, you can go now,” Mrs. Shedd said to Adele. “I know you have plans.”

  Adele leaned against the best-seller table in a leisurely manner. “It doesn’t matter now. My boyfriend called and said he can’t make dinner.” Inside I was groaning. So her comment must have been to hassle me. What else was new?

  I told Mrs. Shedd maybe we ought to go in the office. It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell her about my afternoon where anyone might hear. Adele tagged along as we went to the room in the back. “It has to do with your sleuthing stuff, doesn’t it?” Adele said. She fingered one of the yarn candy canes hanging on her necklace. “Since I almost went along, I ought to hear what happened, too.”

  “Is it about Bradley Perkins?” Mrs. Shedd asked. “I told Joshua all about handing over the money to Bradley.” She looked down and added she’d mentioned using the bookstore’s line of credit, too.

  I swallowed and told Mrs. Shedd that I knew for sure that Bradley’s suicide had been a fake and I’d seen him alive. Her eyes brightened, but only for a moment. Once I told her the rest of it, her face fell.

  “How awful for you,” she said. Then she sighed. “Well, I suppose that really closes the door on the whole situation.” She explained Mr. Royal had convinced her she ought to go to the SEC investigators and show them her paperwork in the event they did recover any of the money. “Joshua was very understanding. He said, thick or thin, we were in it together,” she said. Just mentioning Mr. Royal’s name brought a flush to her face. I was glad that she’d straightened things out with him since there seemed to be a strong bond between them.

  “It sounds like a pretty open-and-shut case that his wife did it,” Mrs. Shedd said.

  “No question that Detective Hea—Gilmore thinks she’s the guy. But I’m not completely sure. Maybe it’s because I know her, but I just can’t imagine her stabbing him. There must be a lot of people angry enough to kill him.” I prepared to offer a list, but Adele cut me off.

  “Nancy Sherlock Fletcher Drew, I think you’re losing your touch.” Adele gave me a disparaging look. “You said yourself that it was empty up there except for the four of you. It wasn’t you or Dinah, was it? That leaves the wife.”

  Mrs. Shedd ended the line of conversation by saying she appreciated what I’d done, but at this point, who did what to Bradley wasn’t my responsibility anyway. She opened the door. “We need to focus on the Anthony launch party. It’s probably going to be the biggest event in the bookstore’s history. The eyes of the world will be on us, ladies. Whatever happens after, let’s make this a shining moment for Shedd and Royal Books and More. Not to mention helping our holiday shoppers in the meantime.” She waved us back into the main part of the store.

  The store was busy for a night with no event. Forcing myself to shut out all thoughts of what I had witnessed, I paused and surveyed the main area. The two young men hired for the holidays were at the help table aiding customers. Rayaad was at her station at the cashier stand. In addition to the young men, Mrs. Shedd had hired Rayaad’s older daughter and she was manning a second cashier stand. The café alcove was busy, too. I looked over the customers. “Isn’t Mr. Royal here?” I said to Adele before she went to the kids’ department.

  She turned back just long enough to say, “He left around the same time you did this afternoon. I don’t know where he was going. Nobody tells me anything.”

  I supposed Mr. Royal was entitled to some time off. Besides it was none of my business.

  The exhausted feeling I had from the afternoon’s events began to go away and I got a second wind. I was glad to occupy my mind with looking over the list of news people covering the vampire book launch. The local TV stations, CNN and all the entertainment shows were supposed to be sending someone to cover the midnight signing of Caught Under the Mistletoe, Blood and Yarn #3. I knew it was all theater, but I loved the drama of it all. And I couldn’t wait to find out if William really was A. J. Kowalski. I still needed to get some confirmations, but it was too late in the day now, so I set the folder away and checked to see if any customers needed help.

  Everyone seemed to be doing okay, so I went back to the yarn department. I’d finally gotten the owl’s head right and wanted to start the body, but the swatches were work related. I took out the knitting needles and a ball of red mohair and started casting on. I was getting a little better at it. Once I had enough stitches I began to knit. I was using large needles and the rows came out loose and lacy.

  “When did you start knitting?” Detective Heather said, walking into the yarn department. She stopped at the table and fingered my work.

  I mentioned my being in charge of the department and our intention of having swatches on all the bins. I put down my work and offered to help her with yarn. Not that I thought shopping was the real reason she was here. I was right. She’d barely picked up a skein of multicolored sock yarn before she brought up Bradley.

  “You haven’t decided that I’m the guy, have you?” I said.

  “No, Molly. I don’t see you as the stabbing type. You’re too wishy-washy. Stabbing takes decisive action. You’d think about it too long.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should thank her or not, but I was glad not to be a suspect. Been there, done that and didn’t like it.

  “Your neighbor brought up an afghan,” Detective Heather said, hesitantly. Her manner instantly got my attention since it was not her usual assertive self. I got it. She felt awkward bringing up the afghan after she’d practically laughed at me when I’d told her about it when she was questioning me.

  “Did Emily Perkins tell you what was so important about it?” I said.

  “I’ll ask the questions,” she said curtly. “You saw her giving it to him?”

  I thought back to watching them and remembered the photos on the BlackBerry. I pulled it out and flitted through them. “Here,” I said, holding it out. I think Detective Heather was expecting another cat picture by mistake and barely glanced at it. But her eyes moved back and stayed on the small pictures. She took the BlackBerry and held the screen closer.

  I had captured the moment when Emily handed Bradley the backpack. After the last time, I suppose he wasn’t taking any chances. I told her to scroll forward. The next pictures showed Bradley holding up the unfolded afghan.

  “That’s what the fuss is about,” she said, disappointed. On the small screen the flowers didn’t show up well.

  “It’s much prettier in person.”

  Detective Heather rolled her eyes at me. For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to give the BlackBerry back, saying it was evidence, but she gave it back and told me to e-mail her the photos. She stood over me while I did it. Her presence was making me tense and I was glad that I didn’t screw it up.

  “I’m sure you noticed that both the backpack and afghan were missing,” I said. Her answer was a withering sigh.

  “I think Emily Perkins took them with her. The backpack and afghan must have traces of her DNA, and after she stabbed him, probably his blood.” The detective looked at me to see if I was following what she said.

  “Right, so they would tie her to the crime,” I said. Detective Heather walked around the yarn department.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually asking for your help, but I really need to find that backpack and afghan. The murder weapon would help, too,” she muttered. “She let me look around her place, which makes me think she knew I wouldn’t find anything. Any ideas?”

  We threw ideas back and forth for a moment. I suggested she might have thrown the knife by the side of the road or in a trash can. But Detective Heather nixed the idea. “I don’t think she’d take the chance of dum
ping it. I think she has it stashed somewhere. Keep your eyes open.”

  She had stopped in front of a bin of rust-colored mohair. She picked up a skein and turned it around in her hand.

  “That color would look good on you,” I said. She turned toward me and seemed surprised. My comment was personal—girlfriendish—and all of our dealings had always been on the adversarial side. For a moment she let down her guard and held the skein up near her face.

  “You really think so?” I nodded and she gathered two more skeins.

  “There’s a lot of tension in my job and knitting helps.” She caught herself and went back into professional mode and finished up our interview. After she left, I saw her take the yarn up to the cashier stand. The color really did look good on her.

  Even though it was late when I left the bookstore, I went over to Dinah’s. I was pretty sure the news media was parked in front of the Perkins’ now that he was dead. I wasn’t up for dealing with trying to sneak past them. Besides I needed to sort out everything that had happened.

  I expected Dinah was having some kind of aftermath from the day, too. I knew I was right as soon as she opened the door. She had a frozen, stunned look on her face. I hadn’t realized it until now, but this was her first body.

  We hugged each other and just stood there for a few moments. Then we collapsed on her couch and leaned against each other for support. With the kids there, she’d decorated and the house seemed festive with the lighted tree. The kids had made another chain from construction paper and it hung over the windows. The usually clear dining room table had crayons and art supplies spread over the top. There was a foam dreidel and a jar of gold glitter. For a moment I forgot my heavy heart and thought back to the fun of making holiday decorations with kids.

  “It didn’t hit me at first,” Dinah said. “I just kept going through the motions. I picked up the kids and apologized for being late. I ordered pizza and let them watch a video. Somewhere around then I started to fall apart. I kept seeing Bradley lying there.” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of the image.