Secrets in a Still Life

by Kari Ganske

  I let out a breath. That was a futile exercise. Of course, Missy wasn't wearing it. Still, I'd found her body farther up the path and her necklace by the water—several feet away. Had it been broken in a struggle? Had someone tried to drag Missy up the path and given up? Had I interrupted their efforts?

  That last thought sent a shiver down my spine. I could have been here at the same time as the murderer. Right after Missy was killed.

  "Oh, for goodness' sake," Colleen cried when I had been silent for a while. She bent down and picked up the locket by its broken chain.

  "Colleen! What are you doing? What about preserving evidence?" I cried, astonished at Colleen's impulsiveness.

  "Whatever. I'm not even sure Piney Ridge has a fingerprint machine or however they do it. I swear I saw Chief Duncan photocopying someone's hand once."

  I laughed. "Well, you might as well open it."

  Colleen did. Inside was the picture I remembered from the salon. Two smiling kids that looked to be about elementary school age. They were pretty cute, now that I could focus since it wasn't held right under my nose. I could see the resemblance to Missy, especially with her daughter. The other side did not hold a picture of Mike Vandenburg like I originally assumed. Instead, Missy's little sister, Jodie, smiled back at me.

  "I'd have thought the other side would be her husband," I mused.

  "No kidding. I mean I love my siblings, but I don't feel the need to wear their picture around my neck," Colleen said. I could relate. I'd even lost a sibling, and although I have a faded picture of us together in my wallet, I don't carry one on my body.

  "Wait a minute. This has to mean trouble in paradise," I said, excited again. "Missy must've known about the affairs or, at the very least, was unhappy in the marriage. Why else wouldn't she have her husband's picture in a heart-shaped locket?"

  "Totally," Colleen agreed. "I mean, if they were both cheating, they couldn't have had a happy marriage, right?"

  "Exactly. I think this puts Mike back on the top of the list. Put the locket in my camera bag for safekeeping. I don't want to touch it. The less my fingerprints show up on things, the better."

  "So it's okay for my fingerprints to be on evidence?" Colleen asked.

  "You're the one who picked it up! I didn't tell you to do that," I reminded her.

  Colleen tucked the locket into the side pocket of the bag, then turned in a slow circle to survey the area. "Where did you find Missy?"

  I pointed up the path. "In the brush there. A little way off the path."

  "So how did her locket end up down here?" Colleen asked, voicing my thoughts from earlier.

  "I wondered the same thing. Did you notice the broken chain?" Colleen nodded. I continued, "What if Missy and her murderer argued down here by the water. Their fight turned physical, and the murderer tore off the locket in the struggle."

  "Yeah. He killed her here and then dragged her into the woods to hide her body," Colleen added. "Or maybe she tried to run, and the killer caught her up there on the path."

  "Let's look for drag marks," I suggested. I had no idea if they would still be here even if they once were. It had been a week since the murder. How long did it take for grass to bounce back?

  We looked around a little, then admitted defeat.

  "I don't even know what I'm looking for," Colleen said.

  "The killer could have used the path instead. Then there would be no drag marks." Some detectives we were.

  I looked at the pictures I'd taken of the locket, on the back of my camera. I zoomed in on one of the locket’s back, the way we'd first found it laying in the dirt.

  "Look," I said, enlarging the area beside the locket. "What does that look like to you?"

  "Drops of blood," Colleen said. "And there, too, on the corner of the locket."

  "This could mean that she was killed by the reservoir and then moved up the path," I said. "What if the killer tried dragging Missy, but she was too heavy. It was taking too long, so they left her in the brush on the side of the path."

  "That would pretty much rule out Mike," Colleen pointed out. "He's strong enough to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out."

  I pursed my lips. "Dangit. You're right. What's another theory that makes him guilty?" I snapped my fingers. "Maybe someone came down the path, and he dropped her instead of having to answer questions."

  "Alex. These are all theories. We probably should report the locket to the police," Colleen conceded finally.

  I pouted for a moment, then huffed out a breath. "Fine. But I'm calling Detective Spaulding. Not Chief Duncan."

  Chapter 19

  I made the call as Colleen drove us back to the loft. I wanted to ask Colleen to take us back to the reservoir so I could put the locket back where we'd found it. We could just tell Detective Spaulding we came across it. Or call it in as an anonymous tip. Too late now. Better to be honest up front. How else would we be able to explain Colleen’s fingerprints on it?

  "He's going to meet us at the loft in half an hour. He promised not to bring Chief Duncan," I told Colleen.

  "Good. I wonder what your mother got for lunch," Colleen responded.

  "How can you be thinking about food? We just found a dead woman's locket," I admonished. Then my stomach growled, betraying me. Colleen laughed.

  Nana K's Mercedes was parked next to my parents' car in the orchard parking lot, which didn't surprise me at all. I was more surprised it took Nana K this long to get here.

  We stepped inside the loft to the noise and smells of family. My mother and grandmother laughed and talked as they opened containers and spread out food on the kitchen counter buffet style. I smelled fried chicken and coleslaw with an undercurrent of fresh coffee. My father sat on the couch holding a paper and a mug.

  Wait. I had a couch?

  "Where did that couch come from?" I asked by way of greeting.

  "There you two are. We were ready to send out a search party. Either that or eat all this chicken ourselves," Mom said brightly, giving me and Colleen a hug.

  "The couch?" I asked again.

  "I've had that old thing sitting in storage for years," Nana K explained. "It's a bit beat up, but better than having company sit on the floor."

  "That old thing" as Nana K described it was anything but. An ornate wooden curvature adorned the back of the midsized couch. The cushions were upholstered with a deep-purple, almost fuzzy fabric. Was that velvet? I didn't think so, but I wouldn't put it past my grandmother. Right now it sat facing the kitchen area. Ideal for this situation so we could all converse. But I could easily turn it around to face the fireplace. It would be a good visual buffer to separate the space, especially once I found a table and chairs for dining.

  "Thanks, Nana," I said, embracing my grandmother and placing a kiss on the top of her pink and purple hair. I wasn't tall by any means, five foot three and a half—the half was important—but I felt like a giant compared to Nana K, who stood no more than five feet tall if she stretched her neck out. Part of our coming of age in my family was growing taller than Nana K. Out of all of my cousins, I took the longest. My cousin Greg passed Nana K at the budding age of eight. He held the record. I hadn't reached Nana's height until middle school. And even then, my parents weren't sure if I'd actually surpass the matriarch. Luckily, due to a three-inch growth spurt in the ninth grade, I sprouted passed Nana K for good. Then added another inch and half for good measure.

  "Come get lunch," Mom said. "We stopped by Solomon's for chicken and the market for dessert."

  My mouth watered. Colleen said, "Don't have to ask me twice to eat Solomon's." She practically ran for the counter.

  Solomon's was the local butcher and game processor. People came from all over Maryland for their fresh-cut bacon, fried chicken, and locally sourced venison. The attached restaurant overflowed with patrons for lunch and dinner.

  "Great choice," I said. I couldn't believe I hadn't demanded Solomon's as soon as I came home. I was too caught up in my feels at the t
ime.

  Mom and Nana K joined my father on the couch to eat, balancing their plates precariously on their knees. Colleen and I leaned against the kitchen counter. Conversation lulled a bit while we all enjoyed the meal and concentrated on not dropping our food. A sharp rap-rap-rap on the door jolted me out of my food coma.

  "Expecting someone?" Mom asked.

  "Detective Spaulding," Colleen and I said at the same time.

  "Why would Detective Spaulding be here?" Mom asked. She wiped her hands on her apron and went to open the door. She expertly replaced her confused expression with one of warmth and welcome as she swung it open.

  "Welcome, Detective. We were having lunch from Solomon's. Come in, come in." Mom stepped aside to let the detective into the loft.

  "Thank you, ma'am." His cop eyes immediately evaluated the space. It didn't take long until they landed on me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. I placed my plate on the counter behind me as he approached.

  "Ms. Lightwood," he greeted me with a firm handshake. "Thank you for contacting me."

  "Please. Call me Alex. Do you want some lunch first?" I asked. I purposefully avoided my mother's questioning glances.

  "Actually, I just might, if you don't mind. I've heard amazing things about Solomon's chicken, but haven't had the chance to partake."

  Dad stood to make a spot for him on the couch.

  "We were just going," my father said before Mom could resume her seat. "Alex, we put some supplies in the fridge. Call us later, okay?" It wasn't really a question; his tone meant I had better call him later to explain the situation.

  "Thanks, Dad. I will."

  "But I haven't had any pie yet, and—" Mom started. But Dad cut her off with a look. She pursed her lips, but acquiesced. A rare move for Constance Lightwood. Then again, Dad didn't ask too much of the ladies in his life, so when he put his foot down on something, we usually complied.

  After my parents left, Detective Spaulding turned to Nana K, who still sat comfortably on the couch with no outward intention of following her daughter and son-in-law out the door.

  "I'm James Spaulding from the Maryland State Police," he said, holding out his hand. "I don't think we've met before."

  "I'm glad we've met now," Nana K said. She rose from her seat, which didn't change her height much, and gave him her hand. "Regina Klafkeniewski. I'm Alex's very single, very young-at-heart grandmother. And you"—she made a show of looking him up and down—"are one tall drink of water."

  Detective Spaulding blushed and ducked his head to hide his laugh.

  Colleen quipped, "Nana K, everyone is a tall drink of water to you."

  Nana K ignored her. "Come sit down, James. I'll get you a plate."

  "No, please. I can do it. I don't need to be waited on." Nana K didn't have to be asked twice. She gestured to the spread on the kitchen counter and resumed her seat on the couch. Colleen joined her.

  I took a moment to assess Detective James Spaulding with fresh eyes as he loaded a plate with chicken and sides. The last time I saw him I had just found a dead body and became suspect number one. Now, with a relatively clearer head, I could see what my grandmother was talking about. He was rather tall, just shy of six feet if I had to guess, and broad shouldered. His sandy-blond hair held a military cut—high and tight around his ears. He carried a little weight around his middle, but who didn't really. Well, besides Linc, whose body probably had a built-in machine that immediately turned carbs into muscles.

  When Detective Spaulding turned around with his plate, he caught me staring and smirked. Instead of averting my eyes, I smirked back, surprising us both. His green eyes went wide, and the other side of his mouth hitched up as well. He had a great smile. It lit up his face and created little smile lines beside his eyes. His hands looked large on the small, disposable plates my parents had provided. I had the sudden urge to reach across the space and trace the scar on his chin.

  Nana K, an expert in the art of subtlety, said, "Alex is single, you know. She moved into this big space today all by herself." I shot daggers out of my eyes and scowled.

  "Just moved in. That explains the—" He struggled for a non-offensive word, but eventually gave up and waved his fork around in a circle.

  "Sparseness?" I supplied. He smiled and nodded. "Unfortunately, what you see is what you get. I moved here from New York City. Not a lot of storage space there, hence the minimalist style."

  "I see," he said, taking a bit of his chicken. His eyes went wide again. "Wow. This is really good!"

  Even though his demeanor seemed light and his bearing relaxed, I sensed that he operated in cop mode all the time. He took in everything we said, every move we made, and made a mental note. All of this would go in a report at some point, or at least help him to form an opinion. His eyes were shrewd and sharp. I recognized that look. I felt the same way when hunting for the perfect shot on location. I had to be careful despite liking him immediately.

  "We've ruined chicken for you forever. Definitely stop on the way back to the city for a to-go bucket. It is just as good cold on a sandwich tomorrow," Colleen said. She, like Nana K, had dreamy eyes for Detective Spaulding.

  He turned his attention back to me. "What did you want to see me about?"

  "You called him?" Nana K asked.

  "Yes. And Nana, if you can keep a secret, you can stay. Otherwise, I'm kicking you out too," I said, pointing my finger at my grandmother.

  "Cross my heart," she said, and did.

  I left to fetch my camera bag from the floor by the door where I'd left it. I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone knocked.

  "Alex?" The door opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

  Linc.

  I sighed. I was bound to tell him about the locket at some point anyway. I hauled the door open all the way. He nearly tumbled inside. Fang ran by me, a blur of black and white.

  "Whoa," I said, putting my hands on Linc's chest to stop his momentum. "I'm the one with the clumsy schtick, remember?"

  "Sorry. I didn't expect you to be right here," he said, righting himself. He handed me a bouquet of wildflowers. "Housewarming gift."

  "Oh, these are lovely, Linc. Thank you," I said, breathing them in, touched more than I could explain. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten flowers from someone other than my parents. Definitely never from Rick. He wasn't really a hearts and flowers kind of guy.

  "Is it okay if Fang comes in?" he asked, even though by the sounds of oohing and aahing from the kitchen, he'd already made himself at home.

  "Of course," I said, moving back to let Linc in fully.

  "Is that Solomon's I smell?" Linc asked.

  "So, that's what led you here. Following your nose," I teased.

  He didn't deny it. "Any left?"

  "In the kitchen." I pointed in the direction. I followed him down the hallway. I noticed he didn't even really look at the space, unlike everyone else who came through.

  "Isn't the woodwork amazing? It's what sold me on this place."

  "Sure," he said. "If you like that sort of thing." He noticed the group in the kitchen and stopped short. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know you had company."

  "Lincoln Livestrong, the firefighter and EMT," Detective Spaulding said, pushing off the counter where he'd been leaning and holding out his hand.

  Linc shook it, but his face remained unreadable. Fang had settled himself by Nana K's feet, eyes trained on her plate, hoping for a handout.

  "Detective Spaulding," he said stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

  "I called him," I explained.

  Linc blinked at me, expressionless—what was his problem?—then turned his attention to Nana K. His face transformed back into the charming, amused Lincoln I knew.

  "Nana K," he crooned. "It's been too long. You look gorgeous as always."

  She gave him a tight hug from her seat. "Two handsome young men in the same room in one day. Have I died and gone to heaven? Alex, pinch me, quick."

  We all laughed. I busied myself
putting the wildflowers in a commemorative plastic Yankees cup I had in the cupboard. I heard Linc snort behind me.

  "You're seriously going to put my flowers in a Yankees cup?" he asked.

  I smiled as I fluffed them in the makeshift vase. Linc was a die-hard Baltimore Orioles fan.

  "It's all I have at the moment." I set the bouquet on the fireplace mantle.

  "Don't tell me you've joined the dark side. That would break my heart," he said, putting a hand over his chest in mock pain.

  "Honestly, I'm not a huge sportsball fan at all. Unless I'm taking action shots at the game. Which is why I have this cup." I turned my attention back to Detective Spaulding. "I don't want to take up any more of your time," I said. "Colleen and I discovered something by the reservoir today. We thought the police would be interested."

  I motioned for Colleen to take the locket out of the camera bag. I still didn't want to touch it. Detective Spaulding immediately reached for it with a napkin. Colleen placed it in his outstretched hands. He brought it to his face to examine, using his fingers and the napkin to rotate it. I pulled up the pictures of where we found it on my camera.

  "MVP," he said, reading the inscription.

  A cloud passed over Linc's face, but I ignored him. When recognition dawned on Detective Spaulding, his expression changed.

  "Why do you have Missy Vandenburg's locket?"

  Chapter 20

  All eyes were on mine, except for Colleen's. Hers were examining her chicken bones as if they held the location to Atlantis, leaving me on my own to explain this.

  "Well," I said slowly. "We were looking through the pictures from the reservoir shoot to see if there were any I could print. Colleen suggested I put together a display of local shots for the market downstairs. And we both agreed that no one printed pictures enough anymore—"