The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

“Poor Dorothy,” Devon whispered as they headed for the stairs, unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene. “No one deserves to die like that.”

  Ross practically dragged her up the stairs, not wanting to see the graphic image any longer.

  §

  Once in Jamie’s bedroom, Ross and Devon sifted through drawers and poked around in the closet. Devon removed a box filled with junk from the shelf in the closet. As she set it on the bed, Ross immediately joined her. They removed items from the box and studied them with interest. Ross removed a framed picture of Jamie and Chelsea.

  “What a shame,” Ross remarked. “Two attractive girls; both lives ending in tragedy.”

  “Except Chelsea was a sweet girl and Jamie was a troublemaker.”

  “If it hadn’t been for the accident, Chelsea certainly would’ve given Jamie some fierce competition with the guys.”

  Devon sorted through loose pictures in the box then removed a small, black velvet box from the bottom. Ross stared as she opened it. It contained a small, diamond engagement ring.

  “Do you suppose that was from Karl?” Ross asked while raising his brow.

  “I don’t remember them ever being engaged,” Devon informed him. “Karl never came across as commitment minded.”

  “Someone else proposed to Jamie?” Ross asked then laughed. “Typical of her not to give the ring back.”

  Devon placed it on her finger and eyed it. It was rather a tight fit. “Tiny too. Jamie would have to wear it on her pinkie.”

  “Maybe she stole it,” Ross remarked then tilted his head with a curious look. “Or received it as hush money. That girl did drive a nice car for someone who barely worked full-time as a waitress.”

  “Just makes me wonder who’d ask her to marry him besides Karl,” Devon remarked while deep in thought. “I know she had a ton of boyfriends, but they were usually the temporary type.”

  “There are plenty of motives for someone to want Jamie dead.”

  “Is it possible Dorothy killed Jamie in anger over this acting job?” Devon asked. “You know she’s totally against women flaunting themselves. She’s so self-righteous. She considered the others to be trashy women. Ivy too. Karl may have figured out that she’d killed Jamie and sought revenge on her.”

  “But why take Chelsea?” he asked. “It’s not as if she’s a material witness.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know, you may be on to something,” Ross remarked. “All the women killed had two things in common. They all auditioned for the same acting job, and they were all close at one time. I mean, apart from Dorothy.”

  “But how does Brant fit into all of this,” Devon practically demanded. “Was he just meant to be a scapegoat? And why Brant? No one really knows him. If you’re going to frame someone, you need to make sure they don’t have alibis for the murders. So who, apart from you, me, and Tyler, knew Brant’s movements enough to frame him?”

  “Tyler has an alibi for two of the murders,” Ross announced. “If he didn’t, I might believe he had something to do with it.”

  “Tyler knows less people in town than Brant,” Devon remarked. “Even if he didn’t have an alibi, what possible reason would he have for killing women he didn’t even know?” She shook her head. “There has to be some connection with the victims all being friends.”

  “Ivy wasn’t their friend,” Ross remarked. “You and Ivy didn’t hang out with them in school.”

  “Yes, but we don’t know that Ivy was targeted,” Devon informed him.

  “She was called to that farmhouse where we found Paula dead,” Ross corrected. “I think she was an intended victim.”

  “Maybe we were meant to think that,” Devon replied. “Why didn’t the killer show up? We certainly didn’t scare him off. Ivy was there a good half hour before we came along. He had plenty of motive and opportunity to kill her before we arrived.”

  “It feels like it should be Karl,” Ross announced while shaking his head. “They need to track him down and question him--not Brant.”

  Devon sank into thought then eyed Ross while grimacing. “It’s a long shot, I know,” she announced, “but they never found that guy who killed Christine seven years ago. What if it’s him? I mean, we don’t know who this stranger was. He could have known Christine’s friends and despised them.”

  “They said they didn’t recognize the guy,” Ross corrected. “They said he was a stranger.”

  “What if they lied?” Devon remarked. “What if the guy who killed Christine was some poor bastard they teased endlessly? They were good at bullying.”

  “If that were the case, why wouldn’t they tell the police who killed Christine?” Ross practically demanded. “Why protect his identity, Inspector Clouseau?”

  “Maybe he had something incriminating on them,” Devon announced while raising her brows. “What about that, my dear Mr. Stringer?”

  Ross frowned. “Okay, I would have accepted Mr. Watson, but I’m no Mr. Stringer.”

  Tony walked into the room with a dress draped over his arm and a slightly sickened look on his face. “Uh, I think the sheriff withheld some facts about Dorothy’s murder.”

  “What makes you think that?” Ross asked.

  Tony nodded them from the room. They sprang to their feet and hurried after him. All three entered Dorothy’s bedroom and saw the blood-tinged comforter and the word killer written in blood on the wall above the headboard.

  “There was another body,” Devon gasped.

  “Who?” Ross asked while staring wide-eyed at the writing in blood.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tamara is still missing, and no one’s seen Joe,” Ross offered and looked at his friends.

  “But why leave a body in Dorothy’s bed?” Tony asked while shaking his head. “Why killer written in blood?”

  All three stared at the scene in silence.

  Tony suddenly drew a deep breath and looked at them. “Anyone else ready to leave?” he asked.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Friday couldn’t have come soon enough. It had been a long, tiring week and this was the first time Devon couldn’t wait to leave her new job. Up until now, she had enjoyed her work at the museum, but with Brant missing and wanted by the police, she just couldn’t shake her feelings of anxiety. Devon pushed a hand truck containing a wax man depicted with a painful expression on his face into the torture chamber. She gently slid him off the hand truck then moved him into place along the wall. His arms were in the air with his wrists limp. She easily connected the shackles to his wrists, took a step back, and studied the new addition.

  Somehow, Brant had managed to work the wax creation perfectly without an inch to spare, so the shackles were tight against his wrists, and his dirty, bare feet just touched the floor. She was about to leave when she paused and looked around the torture chamber, taking it in. It was a gruesome display that would surely give adults nightmares. There was even a warning posted outside the entrance, so that visitors would be warned of the gory displays. Her job would be to add more blood to the set once all the figures were in place. She noticed a woman had been added to the display, which she found surprising. She didn’t think they were putting women in the torture chamber. Not that women weren’t tortured back in the medieval days, but she was certain Brant and Tyler decided against it.

  Devon approached the lone woman stretched backward across the wheel. She was bent painfully with her wrists tied above her head and her ankles tied together near the bottom. Devon stared at the look of anguish on the woman’s once attractive face. She seemed to be crying out in terror. Her eyes immediately traveled to the woman’s tattered clothes, noting her rather large, exposed breast. The amazingly detailed breast was so lifelike, it made Devon squirm. She immediately felt her cheeks redden and harbored some anger at the audacity of the decision to have some big-breasted woman displayed half-naked. Why did men always have to go there?

  She shook her head then was about to turn and lea
ve when she paused. Devon turned back toward the woman, tugged on her tattered dress and covered the exposed breast. She gave a satisfied nod then took her hand truck and passed through the torture chamber. She eyed the man torn in two on the stretching rack.

  “Catch you later, Oscar,” she announced and left the room.

  §

  Fondly dubbed the snake pit, Devon entered the display that was literally filled with wax snakes. She cringed at the entirely too realistic reptiles dangerously close to the walkway, which was lined with fake torches, making it look as if the fire was keeping the snakes back. Ross worked in the middle of the pit and put the finishing touches on a wax man and woman drowning in the snakes. Devon paused on the walkway and eyed Ross. He saw her and waved her to join him.

  “Thanks,” she announced while making a face, “but I’m good right here.”

  “I need your help,” he announced.

  She grimaced and attempted to tiptoe through the fake snakes. “Whose idea was this display of terror anyway?” she practically demanded.

  When she was nearly halfway to Ross, the snakes began to move, and the room was filled with the sounds of hissing and rattling. Several large cobras lifted their hooded heads. Devon screamed then glared at Ross while he watched her and laughed.

  “Come on,” he again insisted.

  “Turn them off,” she cried out, refusing to move.

  Ross frowned and turned off the animatronics with the remote control. “Party pooper.”

  §

  Devon sat in the workshop and implanted long strands of reddish-brown hair into the head of a wax woman while Tyler stood over her shoulder and watched with great interest.

  “You do excellent work, Devon.”

  “Thanks,” she replied then resumed working on the wax head.

  She didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate Tyler standing over her shoulder. She was starting to feel like a prison inmate with the guard watching her every move. Devon didn’t know why she felt such a creepy vibe from Tyler. He didn’t actually do anything to make her feel that way. She couldn’t write it off as a rich boy wanting to play the role of an artist, because that’s exactly what Brant was doing.

  “Brant has taught you well,” he announced then sank into thought and sat on the counter near her. “I’m worried about him. I hope nothing’s happened to him. It’s not like him to take off.”

  “He probably doesn’t even know the police are looking for him.”

  He cocked his head while glancing at her then offered a tiny smile. “Nice try, but it’s been in all of the papers,” Tyler insisted then sighed. “I’m really worried about him.” He then glanced at her and appeared curious. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

  “Not since his parents took him home from the hospital,” she remarked.

  “If you have, you can tell me,” Tyler announced while giving her a sympathetic look. “I won’t say anything to the police. Brant’s not just my business partner; he’s also my friend.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon and straighten everything out,” she insisted while also trying to convince herself of that.

  Tyler placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed to the wax woman’s eyes. “This is just so realistic,” he announced then grinned. “You’ve really come a long way in a short time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have a lot of ideas for the museum displays,” Tyler announced and finally stood, giving her more room to work. “I was thinking we could discuss them over dinner tonight.”

  Tyler turned toward her from behind and gently massaged her shoulders. Devon immediately tensed to his touch. She knew better than to assume it was just a friendly shoulder massage.

  “I, uh, have plans for tonight,” she remarked and hoped that’d stop his hands.

  “Oh?”

  Ross entered the room with a burst of energy while wearing a big grin. He clapped his hands together excitedly and began to dance around the room. Tyler removed his hands from Devon’s shoulders and moved away from her. That he didn’t want Ross to see his hands on her shoulders confirmed her suspicions regarding his intentions.

  “Put on your dancing shoes, Devon,” Ross announced enthusiastically. “We’re going to party hearty.” He did a little dance that was mostly embarrassing. “Time to get this weekend started!”

  Devon turned and smiled while watching Ross embarrass himself with his goofy dancing. She had to admit; his timing was perfect.

  §

  Limousines were parked in front of the exclusive Ruby Club located within the city. Well-dressed men and women entered the glittery club and enjoyed the party atmosphere. Devon had little choice but wear the borrowed, black dress. She linked onto Ross’s arm as they entered the club. It was the first time she’d seen Ross in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. Tony and Ivy entered behind them. Ivy wore a red, spandex dress and her hair was meticulously styled. There were people at the bar drinking and even more on the dance floor. Everyone in the club was dressed in their finest. The four walked across the club and found a table that had just opened.

  “I’m going to the bar and order some drinks,” Ross announced. “I’ll be right back.”

  Devon hurried after him, stopped him just short of the bar, and smiled knowingly. “Okay, Ross. What’s this all about?” she practically demanded. “It’s not like you to willingly suggest an expensive club like this. The cover charge is more then you make an hour.”

  Ross reluctantly sighed. “On the night Jamie was murdered, Brant said he was at his parents’ house, but he’d left early because he and his mother got into a fight. Supposedly he came here,” he informed her. “Jamie didn’t leave the diner until six o’clock, so they’re estimating her time of death between six-thirty and nine-thirty. I thought we’d come here and see if we could establish an alibi for him for that two-hour window from seven-thirty until nine-thirty.”

  “How did you know Brant got into a fight with his mother?” she asked. “I never told you that.”

  He immediately fidgeted. “Uh, an anonymous phone call told me to check this club for a bartender named Ozzy.”

  “You were talking to Brant!” she exclaimed as her eyes lit up.

  Ross motioned for her to keep it down. He looked around with some uneasiness. “Just briefly,” he announced in a hushed tone. “He was around people during Jamie’s estimated time of death. It’s the only alibi we can produce for him.”

  They approached the bar and found the bartender named Ozzy. Ozzy was a big man in his late twenties. He had long red hair pulled back into a ponytail and a neatly trimmed beard. His appearance was almost frightening to those who didn’t know him.

  Ozzy casually leaned on the bar. “Yeah, he was here that night. I remember him well,” he remarked. “One of the few patrons wearing a tuxedo. Great tipper. Comes in here a lot of Friday nights. Likes to sit in the corner. Quiet. Keeps to himself.”

  Several customers ordered drinks, keeping Ozzy and the other bartenders busy. Ozzy poured several drinks and made change for the customers while they questioned him about that night.

  “So he was here that Friday night--all night?” Ross pressed.

  “Yeah, until about one-thirty. He nearly passed out at the bar,” Ozzy replied. “He’d been drinking with another man at the bar that night. The guy called him a cab.”

  “Can you tell me who he was with?” Ross asked with renewed enthusiasm.

  “I’ve seen the guy a couple of times, but I don’t know names,” Ozzy replied. “He was with the other guy from about ten o’clock until they left half an hour before closing. I remember it well. They were depressing me with talk about women. Your man was interested in some woman, but he was afraid she’d never be interested in him, and the other guy lost the woman he loved.”

  “Would you be willing to tell the police he was here the entire time?” Ross asked.

  “Sure. He gives great tips.”

  Ross looked at Devon as Ozzy walked away
. “He was at his parents’ house until six-thirty, and it took fifteen minutes to get here. He has the bartender as a witness from seven until one-thirty,” Ross announced. “It’d take him at least forty-five minutes to return to town. I’d say it’d be impossible for him to have murdered Jamie.”

  Devon smiled happily and hugged Ross.

  Chapter Forty-six

  The following morning, Devon had her horse tied in the crossties in the center of the barn while she brushed him. She intended to spend the entire morning taking a lengthy, well-deserved ride. She needed to clear her head and stop thinking for a few hours. Martin appeared in the barn doorway still wearing his clothes from the night before. He folded his arms across his chest, leaned against the doorframe, and smiled wearily while watching her.

  “You’re up early,” he announced pleasantly.

  She eyed her brother, noted his exhaustion, and grinned deviously. “I could say the same about you,” she teased. “I didn’t hear you come in last night. What time did you get home?”

  “Five minutes ago,” he remarked while grinning.

  She raised her brows suggestively and noted his enthusiasm despite his weary condition. “One of those nights, huh?”

  “Possibly the best night I’ve had in years,” he remarked while grinning.

  “Really?” she asked with surprise then gave him her full attention. She noted the look on his face and the sparkle in his eyes. She didn’t remember the last time she’d seen him looking that way. Perhaps she’d never seen him looking that way. “Does this mean you’re in love?”

  “Never know,” he replied with a shrug although his smile told a different story. He was obviously on cloud nine.

  “Think we may actually meet this one?” she prompted, hoping he’d finally found the right woman. Nothing would make her happier.

  “Well,” he fumbled slightly, although his smile never disappeared. “You know I don’t like to bring young ladies around since they rarely work out. I promise, though, you’ll be the first one to meet the love of my life when I’m sure.”