Murder Wears a Little Black Dress

by Debra Sennefelder

  “My files from the desk. It looks like someone jimmied the back door and tossed my workspace.” Ariel moved her wheelchair farther into the house. “It’s getting a little chilly.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll finish this up and come back to see you before I leave.” The officer spun around and closed the door after him.

  “Want some tea? I have a new flavor. Salted caramel.” Ariel turned her wheelchair around.

  “Sounds delicious. Love some.” Kelly followed Ariel to the kitchen. “Where were you when this happened?”

  “Working at the library.”

  Kelly dropped into a chair at the table. “Have you spoken to DJ Brown yet?”

  “I did. Yesterday afternoon, but he refused to give me an interview. He was very abrupt.” Ariel filled the electric kettle, took two mugs off of the stainless-steel mug tree on the counter, and moved over to the table, where Kelly had settled. “What’s wrong, Kelly? You have a weird look on your face.”

  “I don’t want to scare you.”

  “Too late.” Ariel wheeled to the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk.

  “The intruder could have been Maxine’s killer.”

  Ariel set the milk carton on the table. As Kelly expected, Ariel’s face paled but, to her credit, she rebounded quickly. “Why would the killer want to steal my files? Everything I have is public knowledge. I don’t have anything the police don’t already know about Maxine’s fraud scam.” She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and set it on the table.

  “The killer may not know that, and maybe he or she wanted to see how much information you do have.”

  “I guess you could be right. You know, it could also have been Bernadette. She might be trying to scare me off from writing the article. Then again, I don’t know if she knows I’m writing it.”

  “You said you went for a reading.”

  “I did. But I didn’t tell her I was a freelance writer.”

  “If she’s psychic, then she knew.”

  “If she’s psychic, she doesn’t have anything to worry about.” The kettle whistled, and Ariel moved to the counter and filled both mugs with hot water and dropped a tea bag in each. She served Kelly her tea and then set her mug down across from Kelly and took a sip of her tea after adding a dash of milk.

  “I don’t see Bernadette breaking and entering.” Kelly added milk to her tea and took a sip. “Yum.”

  Ariel nodded. “Right?”

  For a few minutes, they sat together in companionable silence and drank their tea. Kelly’s thoughts were still on the possibility Maxine’s killer broke in, and she worried about how vulnerable Ariel was living by herself.

  “What are you going to do about the back door?” Kelly asked.

  “Dad is going to take a look. He suggested I get a dog. A big dog.”

  Kelly laughed. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, considering what’s been happening.” When Ariel gave her a puzzled look, she filled Ariel in on the incident at Granny’s rental cottage, the flat tires, the threatening note written on the flyer, and Bernadette’s near-miss hit-and-run.

  “Okay, now I’m officially scared. You really think all of this is connected to Maxine’s murder?”

  “Actually, I think everything, including Maxine’s murder, is connected to the murder dress. Wow, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

  “You told me the dress belonged to Irene Singer.”

  “It did.”

  “Her husband died up in Maine in a car accident. She was home when she received the call from the police. She couldn’t have killed him.”

  “Right. We’ve been thinking that all along. But she could have killed another man. Who knows how long she had the dress.” After Kelly took another sip of her tea, she shook her head. “No. I guess I could start looking into past murders in Lucky Cove.”

  Ariel had the rim of her mug a few inches from her lips. “You’re seriously going to research old murder cases? Wow. You’re not playing around. Let me save you a little time. There haven’t been many and, if I recall correctly, the murders were solved and the murderers were arrested and sent to prison.” Ariel took a drink of her hot beverage.

  Kelly slumped. “Maybe in the surrounding towns? Bernadette didn’t identify the man in her vision.”

  “You’re assuming the vision was real, which it wasn’t.”

  Kelly sipped her tea. “I know. But everything started to go south when Bernadette put the dress on and had a vision.”

  “It seems like a distraction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think of a magician. Most of their magic tricks are based on diverting their audience’s attention. Look over here while I really do this thing over here.”

  “Irene did come in after Bernadette’s vision and wanted the dress back.”

  “She did? Did you give it to her?”

  “No, I told her the dress sold.”

  “But you still have it.”

  “I do. Something felt off. The day I asked her about the dress, she got upset, emotional, and told me she never wanted to see the dress again and then showed up the next day wanting the dress back.”

  “You’re right. It does sound odd. Why would she want the dress back?”

  “Because it’s connected to a murder?”

  “But how?”

  Kelly shrugged. “Forensic evidence? No. The dress was dry-cleaned before she consigned it. Or maybe there’s a chance a thread of the dress was discovered at the crime scene.” Now her binge-watching of crime shows was finally paying off.

  Ariel laughed. “Sounds like a stretch but possible.”

  Proud of herself, Kelly smiled. She might have a knack for sleuthing after all. She finished her tea and accepted the offer of another cup, while Ariel waited for her dad to show up and fix the back door.

  Similar to the damage that was done to her granny’s rental cottage, Kelly considered it could have been the same person who broke into both homes. A shiver shot through her at the unsettling thought.

  Kelly stayed with Ariel until her dad arrived to survey the damage to the back door. Lucky for Kelly, she hadn’t had to deal with fixing the cottage’s door. The landlady took care of the repair. Mr. Barnes welcomed Kelly back to Lucky Cove in a big bear hug and insisted she join the Barnes family for dinner soon. Ariel cautioned her dad not to crush Kelly, and that was when he let her go and headed to the back door to assess the damage. Ariel assured Kelly she was okay and her dad would make sure no one else would be able to break into the house. As Kelly left, she overheard Mr. Barnes on the phone with a security alarm service.

  There was a good chance Ariel could’ve been hurt if she was present when the intruder entered her house, and Kelly couldn’t shake the feeling the intruder was connected to Maxine’s death and to Bernadette’s vision. She was supposed to head back to the boutique, but she decided to take the long way. Eleven years ago, Kelly hadn’t been able to protect Ariel, but now she could, and she was going to start with Mr. Brown.

  The man, whether he wanted to or not, was going to tell her everything he knew about the day Maxine was killed, and he wasn’t going to slam the door in her face again.

  She arrived at DJ’s house and turned into his driveway. As she shifted into park, her gaze flicked over to Dorothy Mueller’s house next door. To think she went out of her way to deliver the chair Dorothy was now suing her over. She’d struggled to get it into the cargo section of the SUV and carried the big, awkward piece of furniture not only through Dorothy’s front door but into the living room and moved it three times before Dorothy decided after all she wanted it in the small entry hall. Kelly lifted the chair a fourth time and lugged it back out to the foyer. And how was her hard labor rewarded? A lawsuit, thank you very much. She was tempted to pay Mrs. Mueller a visit after she was done with DJ Brown.

  Shutting o
ff the ignition, she glanced out the passenger window and noticed a familiar car. What on earth was Bernadette doing there?

  She pushed open the car door and stepped out into the damp, raw day. The rain had eased up to a light shower. She tugged her coat closer to her body as she walked along the concrete path to the open front door.

  Not again.

  The last time she let herself into a house, she found a dead body, and her whole world was turned upside down. Every fiber of her body screamed for her to turn and get the hell out of there, so why were her feet taking her over the threshold into the house?

  Déjà vu all over again.

  Turn. Run. Get out now!

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Before taking another step, she debated calling for help but wasn’t certain she needed it. Yet. She heard a whimper. And then another. She continued forward in the hall until she came to the opening to the living room, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

  Two bent khaki-covered legs stuck out from behind the sofa, and a familiar blonde stood over the prone form of DJ Brown.

  Bernadette backed away from the body. She held her hands out and stared at them. She looked disgusted at the sight of them.

  “What happened here?” Kelly’s words were clipped. She was fighting back a wave of nausea.

  “I didn’t kill him. I swear! I didn’t!”

  “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.” Kelly’s stomach flip-flopped violently, and she covered her mouth with her hand as she dashed out of the room. She’d caught sight of a powder room across the hall and ran into it, closing the door behind her. With just moments to spare, she vomited. Her whole body contracted with each heave until there was nothing left inside of her. She slowly straightened up with her hands gripping the pedestal sink. She stared into the mirror.

  What was going on? How could she find another body? A second murder, and both times Bernadette was present. She knew for certain she wasn’t the murderer, so that left…

  A loud thump on the door startled Kelly, and she jumped.

  “I swear, I didn’t kill him. I found him dead,” Bernadette pleaded through the door.

  “Call 9-1-1. Get some help!” Trapped in a bathroom with a possible murderer banging on the door wasn’t how Kelly envisioned her visit to DJ Brown going. Another strike to the door ratcheted up Kelly’s fear to downright terror. Her heart pumped so hard she was certain it would burst out, and her head was on overload with indecision.

  If Bernadette refused to call 9-1-1, then Kelly would. Her phone. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. No phone. Where was it? Her eyes closed as she berated herself for not bringing her tote bag into the house with her, because her phone was in the bag. She needed to rethink her accessories because suede bags weren’t the most practical accessory in rainy weather or when there was a possible murderer trying to get access to you.

  “Please, Kelly, you have to believe me. I’m not a murderer. I couldn’t hurt anyone. I got a message from Mr. Brown to come over, and I found him dead!” Bernadette’s voice was thick with sorrow, and she dissolved into deep sobs.

  Kelly’s resolve weakened as she chewed on her lower lip. There was the possibility Bernadette was telling the truth. Someone could’ve been trying to frame her. Maybe that was why she was almost run down yesterday. Maybe the murderer didn’t think the police were acting swiftly enough to arrest her, forcing the perpetrator to take matters into his own hands. When the attempt on her life failed, he then decided to murder DJ Brown and set Bernadette up to take the fall.

  The theory was out there, way out there, but plausible.

  “I don’t know why this is happening to me.” Bernadette’s voice had drifted away. “Why bother?” Her last two words were barely audible, but Kelly, pressed against the door, heard them.

  Knowing she couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever—she needed to get help—Kelly unlocked the door and pulled it open. Her breath caught at the sight of streaks of blood on the white door from where Bernadette had pounded her fists.

  Before Kelly could react, Bernadette grabbed her by the wrist with her bloodied hand. Her long golden curls were now wild and uncontrolled, and her normally empathetic eyes were ablaze with fury.

  Kelly screamed and tried to pull away from Bernadette, but her grip was too tight.

  “We have to leave!” Bernadette dragged Kelly from the bathroom.

  Kelly struggled. She wasn’t going anywhere with the psychic. “We have to call the police.” She was starting to sound like a broken record.

  “No! They’ll think I did it.”

  “The man has been murdered.”

  “We’re in grave danger.”

  “We? Or do you mean me?”

  Bernadette’s head snapped up, and she looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I haven’t hurt anyone. You have to believe me.” She yanked on Kelly’s arm again.

  Kelly put all of her weight into her heels to make it harder for Bernadette to drag her. “What about all those people who pay you money to communicate with their deceased loved ones or ask for guidance based on your gift? Maxine was about to be arrested in Chicago because she scammed people.”

  Bernadette ceased trying to pull Kelly to the front door. “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  “She never had the gift. She lied to people.”

  “I’m calling the police. Give me your phone.”

  “Please don’t. I beg of you. They’ll arrest me.”

  “This isn’t up for discussion.” Kelly extricated her wrist from Bernadette’s grasp and turned it palm side up. She willed her hand to stop trembling, but it was no use. “Your phone.”

  “I’m sorry, Kelly. No.”

  “Fine. I’ll get my phone.” Kelly stepped forward, intent on passing psychic girl and heading out the front door, when she was unexpectedly shoved by Bernadette. Shocked by the attack, Kelly stumbled backward and lost her balance. She landed on the hardwood floor. Her head struck the floor, and mini-lights, like fireworks, went off as a shot of pain zipped through her head. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” echoed in her mind.

  Bernadette became blurry, and then everything went black.

  * * * *

  “Kelly, can you hear me?”

  Kelly stirred at the sound of her name. “What?” she mumbled as her eyes slit open. Light hit her baby blues hard, and she cringed. “What happened?”

  “We’re hoping you can tell us.”

  Kelly’s eyes opened completely. Her vision was blurry, but she was able to make out Gabe. He was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. There was someone behind him. Sharply creased navy pants. Kelly blinked a few more times, and her vision cleared up. The blurriness was gone, a good thing, she thought. What wasn’t good was when Kelly’s gaze traveled upward and she saw Detective Wolman frowning at her.

  Kelly looked around the entry hall. Where was she? This wasn’t her home. How did she end up on the floor?

  “There’s an ambulance on the way for you.” Detective Wolman squatted next to Kelly and Gabe. “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know. Where am I?”

  There were snippets of memory, but they kept slipping away.

  “DJ Brown’s rental house,” Gabe answered.

  DJ Brown? Kelly pushed herself up against Gabe’s protest. “I came to see him? Why?” She searched her memory, and a few pieces of it connected. “The break-in.” She was now seated upright, and her head throbbed. She instinctively rubbed the back of her head, which did nothing to make her feel any better.

  “What break-in?” Gabe asked.

  “What are you talking about, Miss Quinn?” The detective flipped open her notepad.

  “The break-in at Ariel’s house. On my way home from East Hampton, I drove by Ariel’s house, and there was a police car there. I went to see what had ha
ppened. Someone broke into her house and stole her files. When I left her house, I decided to come here and to talk to DJ Brown. I wanted to find out exactly what he knew about the day Maxine was murdered. And to see if he’s the one who broke into Ariel’s house.”

  “You expected him to confess if he was the killer or the burglar?” Wolman didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.

  Kelly shrugged. “It was worth a try. I arrived and…” A flood of memories came back. “Ohmigod, he’s dead. He was stabbed!” She pointed in the direction of the living room, where she caught a glimpse of uniformed police officers. “I found him with Bernadette standing over his body. Her hands were bloodied! I got sick and ran to the bathroom.” She pointed toward the open bathroom door. “She followed me. She pounded on the door until I came out. She said she didn’t kill him. I didn’t have my phone! I couldn’t call for help. I came out because…I had to get help…She grabbed me.” Kelly looked at her arm and the sleeve of her camel-colored coat smeared with dry blood. DJ Brown’s blood. Her body trembled, and she fought back a scream.

  Gabe squeezed her shoulder. He must’ve seen the panic building in her. “You’re safe now.”

  Kelly nodded and struggled to maintain her calmness; her heart raced, and her breathing was becoming shallow. “She wanted me to go with her.”

  “Where?” Detective Wolman asked.

  Kelly dragged in a deep breath and let it exhale slowly. She needed to calm down or she feared she’d pass out. “I don’t know. She didn’t say. She just wanted us to leave. When I refused to go with her, she pushed me and I fell. I must have hit my head.” Kelly looked around at the small space they occupied. She remembered falling.

  “Two murders, and you’re at both of them. Somehow I’m not sensing it’s only a coincidence.” Wolman flipped her notepad closed and straightened up.

  “I didn’t kill him. I had no reason to.” Kelly rubbed her temple. She’d landed on the side of her head when she fell. She didn’t doubt the throbbing pain that spread across and around her head would last well into the next day.

  “We’ll see about that. The ambulance will take you to the hospital to be examined. Expect to be questioned again, and you may want to have a lawyer present.” Wolman turned and exited the hall and then disappeared into the living room.