by India Ink
As I moved through my yoga routine, I wondered what kind of mindset it took to subject oneself to degradation and abuse in exchange for a beauty crown. If Lydia was willing to get the title by cheating, then she must have wanted it pretty damned bad.
“Persia! Brunch!”
My aunt’s voice startled me and I realized that I’d been sitting on my stability ball for the past five minutes, doing nothing but thinking. Lazy, I thought, but gave it up for the day. The rest of my routine would have to wait. I was too preoccupied.
“Be down as soon as I have a shower,” I called over the edge of the banister. Ten minutes later, I joined my aunt at the table, where I gave her a full rundown on the events of the evening. She listened gravely, nodding, but I could tell there was something else on her mind.
“Auntie, is something wrong?” I poured us both another cup of tea.
She bit her lip, eying me thoughtfully. “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. You had a visitor last night. He left you a message.”
“Who?” I asked, but immediately closed my mouth. I knew who, I didn’t have to ask. Elliot. “That scum! What does he want now?”
Auntie wrung her hands. “Oh Persia, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. You’re not going to like it and I don’t want you to do anything stupid.” She began to fiddle with the hanging ivy next to the kitchen table. Caught up in a wire mesh basket, the plant trailed fronds almost to chin height. If she let it grow any lower, the cats would have gotten into it.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. It must be bad, whatever it was. “Okay, let me have it. I promise I won’t go buy a gun and shoot him.”
She gave me a smile then. “Honey, if it would help matters any, I’d spring for the bullets. But violence isn’t the answer. Okay, here it is: Elliot has decided to move to Gull Harbor. He’s gone and rented one of those sleazy dives down on Arborville Avenue—the Gate ’n Lion? You remember—the place with the huge statues of the stone lions that used to belong to the library before they replaced them with horses.”
I stared at my plate. “Elliot? Move here? Oh God, take me now!”
Count to ten, don’t say another word until I count to ten, I thought. Let it flow in, let it flow out. You give your opponent power if you let him unbalance your emotions.
There had to be something I could do. I wasn’t about to move, nor would I allow him to disrupt my life. I had to think this one over carefully. In the meantime, I was going to have to find a way to cope with the knowledge that he was living in the same town as me.
Auntie seemed to be waiting for an explosion. I shook my head, on the verge of tears. “I hope to hell he falls in the water and drowns or that he gets himself thrown in jail again. He’s a bane around my neck. Think I’ll just call him Albatross Man from now on. Al, for short.”
She rested her hands on my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. You can avoid him. I can put a stop to him hanging out at the shop. It will be okay, wait and see.”
But we both knew she was wrong.
I called Kyle after brunch but he was gone and dispatch didn’t know when he’d be back. After leaving a message that I needed to talk to him, I glanced at the clock. Almost two. Time to get ready for my date with Bran. I slipped into a loose pair of cotton jeans and a long sleeved polo shirt, then tied my shoes. For real climbing, I’d use boots, of course, but for the rock wall down at Gardner’s Gym, sneakers would work just fine. My hair went into a braid and then I coiled it up and pinned it on the back of my head. Digging through my gear, I finally found my knee and elbow pads, along with my helmet and gloves. Even on practice walls, safety counted.
I was headed downstairs when the phone rang and I heard Aunt Florence answer. As I rounded the corner, she called me into the den. “It’s for you. It’s Daphne Stanton, Bran’s sister.”
His sister? I reached for the phone. “Hello?”
In a clipped voice, each word uttered with precision, Daphne said, “Persia? I’m calling for Bran. He’s not going to be able to make it.”
So he’d set his sister to making excuses? I sighed. “I hope he’s not ill—” I started to say but she broke in.
“Actually, he’s managed to acquire a broken leg. He was working on his boat and a gust of wind put too much pressure on one of the ropes. It slipped and nearly dragged him overboard. He caught himself but in the process his leg snapped and he’s in the hospital right now.”
I stared at the floor, feeling a wave of shame. My first thought had been that he’d flaked out on me, not that something might have happened to him. I blushed, even though Daphne couldn’t see me. I had the feeling she knew what I was thinking.
“Good God, is he going to be okay?”
She murmured an affirmative. “He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a week or two, until they’re sure it’s mending right. It was a nasty break. But he wanted me to let you know so you wouldn’t worry.”
I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off the roll-top desk. “What room is he in? Are you talking about Samanish Island Hospital?”
She gave me his room number and phone number and then with a cheery “Have to run,” she said good-bye.
I stared at the paper. I’d been looking forward to our date, but now felt both worry and relief. Worry for Bran, but relief because I had too much on my mind to focus on a first date right now. I picked up the phone and put in a call to the hospital. Bran answered, sounding a little woozy.
“Hey you,” I said. “How are you? You up for a little company?”
“Persia! I’m so glad you called!” His voice shifted into a cheerier mode. “My doctor told me no visitors today—I’m pretty out of it on pain meds, but you could come by tomorrow. They say I’m going to be in this damned cast for a good two months. The break was bad and this means that I’m not going to be able to lead my summer classes or take the boat out on tours.” He sounded frantic rather than doped up.
“We’ll think of something. Trust me, we’ll make sure you don’t lose the season’s business.” I paused, then added, “I’m not going to keep you on the phone long because I don’t want to tire you out, but I just wanted to check up on you. I don’t like being stood up, you know,” I said, forcing a smile into my voice. “I expect a rain check on that date.”
“Really?” he asked, and his voice set my heart to fluttering.
“Yes, really,” I said, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ll drop by tomorrow. Meanwhile, until then you get some sleep.”
“Persia—wait! I wanted to ask you a question.”
“What is it?” Please, oh please, don’t make it something serious, I thought. I had enough on my mind already.
“Your name . . . it’s so pretty. Why did your mother give it to you?”
I laughed. “My family has an old tradition. Every woman born into our family is named after the town or country of her birth. My mother was named Virginia, because she was born there. Auntie was born in Italy—in Florence. And I was born in Iran, so my mother named me Persia since that’s a whole lot prettier, but technically still the country. If I ever settle down and raise a family, any daughter I have will be named in that manner. It’s one of the few links to the past that I have left. Now be a good boy and go to sleep.”
As I replaced the receiver, I thought about his brilliant eyes and luscious voice. Chemistry, I thought. We had chemistry. Even though I couldn’t smell them, I was pretty sure my pheromones were saturating the room.
Auntie wandered in and I told her what had happened. “Maybe you should go buy him some flowers or a card or something to take with you,” she said. “I happen to know he has a penchant for oatmeal cookies.”
“Oatmeal cookies, huh?” Since I couldn’t bake, it was off to the store for a shopping spree. Flowers, cookies, a card . . . maybe this dating thing was going to be fun after all.
The aisles of the Shoreline Foods Pavilion were clear—it seemed that I’d hit during the less-than-popular shopping hour. I’d
buy the cookies at Barbara’s, but for flowers and a card, the supermarket would do.
As I turned the corner to head to the produce section, I saw Colleen and Debbie poring over the squash. Something caught my eye. Debbie looked different, but I couldn’t put my finger on how. I watched them from the next aisle over, thinking about what Jin had told me. So Colleen had attempted to blackmail Lydia. Blackmail was bad, but murder catapulted matters into an entirely different realm. Just because Colleen might rat Lydia out didn’t mean that she was capable of killing her. The question was, did she have the stomach for it? Could she willingly snuff out a life? I didn’t want to think so. I hoped not.
After a moment, I called out to them and they looked up. Colleen nudged Debbie and whispered something but Debbie shook her off, staring at me with that frightened Bambi look. And yet, there was a difference. She held her head higher, her shoulders straighter. Her clothes were smooth and wrinkle-free. Debbie didn’t look like she hated herself anymore.
“Hey girls, haven’t seen you at the store for a few days.”
“We’ve been busy—” Colleen started to say, but Debbie cut her off.
“Nice to see you, again, Persia. I’m sorry we don’t have time to chat, but we’re on a tight schedule. We’re going to a movie tonight so we need to fix dinner early.” She tried to push past Colleen, who gave her a queer look.
“Deb, we live across the street from the theater. What’s the big rush?”
They lived across the street from the theater? Uh oh, alarm bells. “You live across from the Delacorte Plaza?” I asked. That apartment complex seemed to be the central hub of activity, and none of it very pleasant.
Debbie nodded, a little too fast. “Yeah, we’re roomies, you know—share the rent to make our paychecks go further!” Her laugh was a little too forced.
I gave her a blinding smile. Kill ’em with kindness. “I don’t think I ever caught what it is that you do.”
Colleen reached for an acorn squash and as she did so her purse slid off her shoulder, spilling items willy-nilly all over the floor. I leaned over to help her pick up a few of the things that had rolled near my feet. Lipstick, a small day planner . . . a stun gun?
“You carry a stun gun?” I said, staring at the sleek black weapon in my hand.
She shrugged. “My father wanted me to have some sort of protection now that I’m living on my own. I told him I don’t need it but—you know fathers.”
Actually, I didn’t, I thought as I handed it to her. I’d never had a father figure. And then as the scent of her perfume enveloped me, I froze. I knew that scent. I remembered it all too well.
“Nice fragrance,” I said, casually turning away to finger the onions. “Where did you get it?”
“Don’t you remember?” Colleen said, laughing. “You brewed it up for me the first week you started at the shop. I love it.”
A custom blend, which meant she was the only one who had a bottle of it. And that meant . . . I stared at the array of squashes for a moment, contemplating something too horrible to wrap my mind around.
Debbie interrupted my thoughts. “I’m a cashier.”
“Huh?”
“You asked where I work. I’m a clerk at my father’s shop. Harcourt’s Hardware—maybe you’ve seen it? It’s right down the street from your shop. I’ll take over when he retires.”
Harcourt’s Hardware? “Your father is Murv Harcourt?” He not only owned the best hardware store in town, but he was also the local locksmith. I had to have him come bail me out when I left my keys in the car one evening. Keys . . . And then, it all clicked. Every painful detail. I had to get out of here.
“Gotta run! Later.” I headed for the front of the store, quickly maneuvering the cart into the stand by the door. Shopping for Bran would have to wait. I needed to find Kyle, and I needed to find him fast.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time I reached my car, the storm broke in earnest. I raced over to City Hall, speeding around the corners, clipping a curb here or there. As I pulled up in front of the police station and leapt out of my Sebring, a deluge of water poured from the heavens and thunder echoed across the island. Thank God I kept the top on the car up most of the time. The radio was right—we were in for a gusher. I just hoped Auntie had bought extra fuel for the generator.
The station was bustling as I entered the lobby and walked up to the reception desk, which was actually an enclosed booth. A bullet-proof window separated the dispatch officer from anybody who might have an eye on shooting up the joint. She looked up at me and smiled—Katrina Tennyson had been in my junior high class and we had occasionally eaten lunch together.
“Persia! I heard you were back in town. I’m sorry I missed you last time you were here, but I was on vacation. What can I—”
“Hey Katrina—good to see you, too. Listen, I need to talk to Kyle. Chief Laughlin.” I glanced down at my feet where the rain that had beaded up on my jacket was dripping off to form a puddle. The marbleized linoleum was littered with several trails of water drops. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had gotten caught in the squall.
She shook her head. “No can do, I’m afraid. Unless it’s an emergency, he said he’s not to be disturbed. I can page one of the other officers for you, but it may be awhile. There have been a lot of minor accidents today and we’ve got most of the beat officers out directing traffic where the lights have gone out.”
I leaned close to the glass. “Katrina, it’s important. Call it an emergency if you like, but I can guarantee that if you don’t let me in to see the Chief, he’s not going to be happy. This relates to Trevor Wilson’s case.”
Her eyes flickered over my face. “Okay, but if he bites my head off, it’s on your shoulders.” She sighed and picked up the phone, punching the intercom. “What should I tell him?” she asked me, covering the receiver with her hand.
“Tell him Persia’s here, and I have that evidence he asked for.”
Within less than a minute, Kyle came striding around the corner and motioned for me to follow him. As we entered his office, he whirled.
“What have you got?” he asked.
“Too much for my own good. Kyle, I know who killed Marta, and I’m pretty certain it’s the same person who killed Lydia. I’m just not sure how to prove it.” As he pulled out a chair for me, I sank into the soft leather and began to spell out everything that I’d learned.
“Persia,” he said after I’d spilled what I knew, “I’m going to have to talk to the judge and see if I can come up with reasonable circumstances for him to grant us a warrant.”
“But that could take awhile.” Colleen might bolt before we could prove Trevor was innocent.
“Tough. I go by the book.” He glanced out the window. “Storm looks like a rough one.”
“Kyle, don’t you care about Trevor?”
“Of course I do, but there’s nothing I can do to speed up the process. And don’t you do anything stupid, either.”
I grumbled, scuffing the floor with my toe. “Damn it, Kyle, you frustrate me so much sometimes.”
With a sigh, I asked him if I could use his phone and put in a call to Jared, asking him to put up a notice that my self-defense course was canceled for the evening. Surely nobody in their right mind would be foolhardy enough to drive all the way to the Gull Harbor Community College in this gale; but you never knew with people.
Jared laughed. “That won’t be necessary. You must not have got the call from Admin. The college just sent out a notice to KZRR Radio that all evening classes are cancelled.” He paused and I could hear someone speaking to him in the background. “Rod says to say hi.”
“Right back at him.” Rod was Jared’s partner and together they made a witty and funny couple. I never felt like a third wheel when I was hanging out with them and they never pulled any drama-queen shit on me. “I have to run. Thanks for the favor. I owe you one.”
“You owe me several by now,” he said.
As I hung up, I n
oticed Kyle watching me out of the corner of his eye as he dug through a cabinet in the corner of the room. A potted palm tree sat next to it, the brilliant green contrasting vividly with the rust-and-blue patterned carpet. He cleared his throat.
“How’s Jared doing?”
I gave him a long look. Maybe it was time to confront an issue that should have been long buried in the past. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Honestly, Kyle, this little feud you two have going is stupid. I can’t believe you’re still mad at Jared and me because I went to that dance with him. He’s your cousin, for God’s sake. Get over it.”
He did a double-take. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That I’m still miffed over something that long ago and that minor? Boy, you really do have a good opinion of yourself!” Kyle leaned against his desk, laughing. “You just made my day, Persia Vanderbilt.”
