Secrets in a Still Life

by Kari Ganske

  I scowled at him behind his back as he rapped his knuckles on the office door. So many people diminished my profession to "just point and shoot." I didn't think Linc was one of those people, but he was full of surprises lately.

  I pushed my frustration aside as the door opened. Chief Duncan's girth took up the doorway and spilled over behind the edges. He wiped crumbs from his shirt as he said, "Come on in. Let's get it over with."

  We followed him into the room.

  "Thanks for taking the time today," Linc said.

  "I still don't understand why we have to do it here and not in our usual spot," he said, looking at me.

  "This tells your story better. The chief of police busy at work in his office. The humane society even brought a German shepherd to be your companion."

  The chief harrumphed, but I could tell he was pleased.

  "Where do you want me?" he asked.

  "Standing behind your desk. We'll sit the dog beside you. Your certificate frames will be the backdrop," I explained. The dog handler came in then. I repeated my request, and the dog sat by the chief's feet.

  I snapped a couple of safety shots, then suggested Chief Duncan interact with the dog a little. His chair gave a little groan of protest when he plopped back down in it. I got a rare smile from him as the dog put two paws on his lap and panted into his face. Chief Duncan rubbed the dog's ears and neck while I snapped away from several angles. Fortuitously, the dog even covered some of the chief's weight.

  When we finished, Linc walked out with the dog handler, leaving me alone with Chief Duncan. I could have cut the awkwardness with a knife.

  "Thanks again for agreeing to pose for me. I hope you're pleased with the final shots," I said, one hand on the doorframe.

  "Listen here, Ms. Lightwood," Chief Duncan started, the smile now vanished from his rotund face. "Spaulding might think you're innocent, but your lost-little-girl act doesn't work on me. Finding that locket is a little too convenient. I've got my eye on you, Alex. You'll make a mistake sometime, and I'll catch you."

  I almost said, "Where is your other eye pointed?" but caught myself just in time. Instead, I said, "I hope you find the killer, Chief Duncan. And I will also expect an apology when you finally realize it wasn't me."

  Chapter 24

  Driver Improvement Program. More like Naughty Driver School.

  According to the pamphlet I received when I registered, this program was usually assigned to people who accumulated over five points on their license or were driving egregiously. I'd barely driven my car at all during the last decade. And hitting the sign wasn't even really my fault—I'd been startled by the blaring horn. It’s not like I aimed for the stupid thing. Or that I was going too fast. Or driving "egregiously."

  I took a seat toward the back, thankful that the class would only last four to six hours. I hoped my instructor leaned closer to the four hours length. A few more people filled in around me—no one I recognized, thank goodness. It amazed me that this many people in Piney Ridge needed Driver Improvement Program. I honestly thought I might be the only one. Then again, if Judge Cockran assigned it to me with only one offense, he probably handed out this class as liberally as my mother traded gossip.

  As the nine o'clock start time came and went, the group around me started shifting in their seats and looking from the clock to the door. Used to sitting still and waiting, I observed the room from my seat in the back. If I had my camera, I'd frame the gentleman at the front of the room with neck wrinkles so thick his index finger got caught in one as he scratched his neck impatiently. I'd also love to capture the look of pure annoyance on the face of the middle-aged woman seated a row ahead of me. Unlike me, this woman clearly had other things she'd rather be doing. Her bouncing leg reminded me of the popcorn Grampa Klafkeniewski used to make in the skillet on the stove.

  "Is this like college?" a younger student asked. "Like, if the instructor doesn't show up in fifteen minutes we all get to leave?"

  The annoyed woman scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to leave. I want to get this over with. I had to make arrangements with my kids' daycare and work. It's highly inconvenient."

  "Should we call someone?" the wrinkled gentleman asked.

  Before anyone could answer, a blue blur that could have been a Piney Ridge PD uniform streaked into the room with a flurry of "I'm sorry. So sorry."

  I smiled when the streak came to rest behind the desk at the front of the room. Andrea Martinez.

  Andrea surveyed the group as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes locked with mine. I smiled encouragingly. Officer Martinez's shoulders removed themselves from her ears as she visibly relaxed.

  "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Thank you for waiting. We are in the middle of a big case, and things are starting to move," she explained, avoiding my eyes now. "I may need to excuse myself during class if I get a call."

  The mention of the big case had us all sitting up in our seats. Obviously, she meant Missy's murder. That was not only the biggest case in Piney Ridge, but the only case as far as I could tell. But Officer Martinez was done talking about it apparently. She moved right into the first part of the program.

  About an hour in, my eyes started drooping. I still hadn't managed to get any earplugs and those missed hours of sleep in the mornings were catching up to me.

  That reminded me I also needed to add bread to list. Or maybe birdseed? Did chickens eat birdseed? My little friend, whom I'd nicknamed Nugget, came to visit me every morning for breakfast. This morning, I sat on the landing next to Nugget and placed some of the bread pieces on my legs. Without hesitation, Nugget jumped right up onto my lap. Inconceivably, I wished I could be more like the chicken—trusting and confident. Two things I used to be before the big wide world—with a little help from a missing brother and a final nudge from Wreck-it Rick—turned me cynical and wary.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall for the millionth time. Only ten more minutes had passed since I last checked. I stifled a yawn. Mr. Wrinkles had his head resting heavily in his hand. Ms. I'm Too Busy not so discreetly played a game on her phone. We all needed some coffee or to at least splash some cold water on our faces to wake up.

  As if I willed it with my wishes, Officer Martinez's phone rang. That woke everyone up.

  She glanced at the screen and muttered an apology. "I have to take this. Take a ten-minute bio break, and we'll meet back here at ten thirty."

  She stepped into the hall. I didn't have to be told twice. I shot up out of my chair to stretch and try to wake myself up. I didn't want to be rude to Officer Martinez by falling asleep on her. It wasn't her fault the material was as dry as an elephant bone in the Sahara. I wandered through the halls looking for the bathroom.

  "The results are in already?" Officer Martinez's voice stopped me in my tracks.

  I ducked around the corner so I could unabashedly eavesdrop.

  "What's the murder weapon?" Officer Martinez asked in a hushed voice. She listened, her eyes going wide. "Scissors? The M.E. is sure?" Another pause. "Right now? I'm in the middle of Driver Improvement Class." I heard her footsteps as she paced up and down the hallway. "Okay. Okay. I understand. I'll be there in ten."

  Forgetting all about the bathroom, I rushed back down the hallway in case Officer Martinez came my way. I sat on the edge of my seat, leg bouncing as hard as the annoyed woman's was earlier. Scissors were the murder weapon? Like hair-cutting scissors? Could this mean that Kelly was the killer after all? But she'd been at the salon all day. At least that's what she told the detectives. I really wanted to talk this through with Colleen or Linc.

  My heart sank a little. It would have to be Colleen since Linc basically told me he was done with me, on Monday. We'd barely spoken a word to each other yesterday when I reported to the firehouse. He pointed to a stack of files and the filing cabinet and then disappeared with Fang to places unknown.

  "It seems I need to apologize again. We're gonna have to cut class short today," Officer Martine
z said when she reentered the room. Her voice was steady and clear, holding none of her earlier excitement. Very professional.

  "What!?" annoyed lady cried. "I rearranged my entire schedule for today."

  "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. You will be credited with the time you put in. I'll see if I can get the rest of your requirement waived." She grabbed her stack of folders from the desk and sauntered out of the room before anyone else could protest.

  I, too, felt the flicker of annoyance—I couldn't get my license back until I took this class—but I was more excited about the information I just learned. I texted Colleen on the way out of the building.

  Me: Can you meet for lunch? Exciting news to share

  Colleen: Henry Cavill is in town and wants to marry me!?

  Me: Even juicier. Meet at Scoops?

  Colleen: Be there at eleven

  I checked my phone clock. I had about half an hour to bike to Scoop's. I would be a sweaty, red-faced mess when I arrived, but I could do it. Man, I really needed my car back. I'd managed to pay off the repairs using last month's royalty check from my stock photography, but it still had to sit in car jail until I finished this class.

  Colleen's VW was already parked in the lot when I arrived a little past eleven. In addition to ice cream, Scoop’s offered a small selection of deli sandwiches, mayonnaise-based salads, and homemade soup. No matter the season, I loved their homemade soups. I used to stop here on my way home from school almost every day to get a cone and a cup of soup—not to be eaten together.

  I met Colleen at the counter where she undoubtedly ordered an egg salad sandwich on rye toast with extra black pepper and a pickle on the side. I looked at the daily soup offerings and gave a little shout of joy: jambalaya topped the list. My favorite. I ordered the soup—a large today so I could save some for later—and a huge fountain coke, then waited at a picnic table outside for Colleen to join me.

  "So what's juicier than Henry Cavill?" Colleen said, taking the bench across from me. She unwrapped her egg salad sandwich and took a huge bite. I smiled. Some things never changed.

  "I found out the murder weapon," I said. Colleen, eyes wide and mouth full of sandwich, waved her hand frantically for me to continue.

  "Scissors! Missy was stabbed with scissors," I exclaimed. Colleen choked a little. She took a big swig of her own fountain soda to right herself.

  "I mean, that certainly puts Kelly back on top of the list," Colleen said when she got her coughing under control.

  "Right? Officer Martinez had to cancel driving class to rush somewhere. Do you think they're raiding the salon?"

  "This is one time I wish I had a police scanner."

  "I also wish I had a car. Then I could inconspicuously drive past. I'm a little noticeable on the bright yellow bike."

  "So?" Colleen asked. "People bike down that road all the time. Hence the bike lane."

  I pursed my lips. "Right. The other main suspect in the murder just happens to be riding by at the exact moment police are searching the place? Chief Duncan warned me he'd be watching my every move."

  "But the murder weapon gets you off the hook," Colleen said. "It points the finger squarely at Kelly. I mean, I like Kelly, but her motive is ten times stronger than yours. She's completely erased any inkling of Missy from that salon in less than two weeks."

  "True. Still, I have enough people mad at me right now. I don't want to borrow more trouble. I'll text Nana K and see if she heard anything on the scanner."

  Me: Anything interesting on the scanner?

  Nana K: Police activity at the salon

  Me: Thought so. Murder weapon=scissors

  Nana K texted back the wide-eyed emojis. I showed Colleen the exchange.

  "Now I really wish I had a car," I said.

  "I'd let you borrow my car, but we are hauling kids to the park later this afternoon."

  I sighed and spooned my soup. "I thought maybe after today I'd start getting my life back. I'd have my car. I could maybe go into the city and see about freelance jobs at the Baltimore Sun. I could even try Washington, DC, although it's a longer commute. Now I'm stuck here until I can finish that class."

  "You still have to finish your community service anyway."

  "That's true. Although with Linc mad at me for some reason, I'm beginning to dread that as well. It's like there's this big cloud of yuck hanging over us. I can't figure out what I did to make him so angry."

  "Did you ask him?" Colleen said, an edge to her voice.

  "He barely talks to me anymore." I sighed, settling into my little pity party. "This is all Rick's fault. If he hadn't spread those lies about me, I wouldn't even be in this situation. I would be back in New York talking about my next assignment. Not here riding around on a yellow bike and contemplating taking Christmas card pictures for Mary Homemaker."

  Colleen interrupted my pout by slamming her hand down on the table, making me jump.

  "Really, Alex. I missed you and I love you, but you're being ridiculous. If you don't want to be here, move somewhere else. But stop putting down the people and the town I call home." She rose from the table. "Honestly, when did you become such a snob?"

  I gaped at her back as she stormed away.

  Chapter 25

  I rode slowly back to my loft, wondering how I had gotten to this point. Yes, Rick was the reason I felt I needed to leave New York. His lies about my work and my integrity gutted the connections I'd made there. But I didn't have to leave. I chose to. And I chose Piney Ridge.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't blame Rick for everything that had happened since I arrived. He was the catalyst to my current situation, sure, but I was the fuel. I was to blame for losing my car. I somehow alienated Linc. I just insulted Colleen's entire way of life. I'd even somehow managed to warrant a lecture from my mother. And Rick absolutely had nothing to do with me being a murder suspect.

  Okay, so maybe the last one was simply bad luck—wrong place at the wrong time—but the others were undeniably, absolutely, irrevocably my fault. When I first came to Piney Ridge, I promised myself I wouldn't give another thought to Rick, wouldn't let him manipulate me any longer. And yet I was letting my one bad experience with him shape my relationships with others.

  Stupid. In less than a month, I'd managed to push away almost everyone who tried to support me. Linc and Colleen had been nothing but kind and supportive and indulgent. I'd been a regular Sour Patch Kid.

  I had to fix this. I could fix this. My attitude and the way I treated my friends and family were in my control. I just hoped it wasn't too late.

  Chief Duncan rolled out of an unmarked police car as soon as my bike's front tires hit the orchard parking lot. His face waffled between scorn and satisfaction. He was trying to look businesslike and serious but had trouble hiding the small grin playing on his lips. All of that meant nothing good for me. I looked up at the clear, blue sky—the ominous shadow must be from whatever was about to happen to me.

  "Ms. Lightwood," Chief Duncan said. "I need you to come with me."

  "Why?" I asked. I walked my bike over to the loft steps and leaned it against the barn wall. My soup from Scoop's teased me in the basket. Something told me I wasn't going to get to enjoy it tonight.

  "We have a few questions you need to clear up. About Missy's murder. It's better if you come to the station for formal questioning," he explained, standing much too close behind me.

  "Me? Why me?" I asked. When I turned to face him, handcuffs dangled from his fingers. My eyes bugged. "Am I"—I gulped— "am I under arrest?"

  "Not yet," he said. "But we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Come with me voluntarily, and we won't have a problem. Like I said, just a few questions."

  I didn't entirely believe him. If I weren’t under arrest, I could refuse. There was nothing he could arrest me for. Still, not complying would surely make me seem even guiltier. Breathing made me seem even guiltier in Chief Duncan's eyes. I sighed and followed him to his car. What else could I d
o?

  "I knew you'd see it my way," he said smugly.

  "Where is Detective Spaulding?" I asked. I needed someone on my side.

  "Busy. He may swing by later," he answered. I felt my trepidation grow.

  I texted my father and Nana K on the way to the station, told them everything was fine for now, but to have the lawyer on standby just in case. Since I wasn't under arrest, if I began to get uncomfortable with the questions, I could end the interview and leave.

  When we arrived at the station, Linc was rolling out hoses in the adjoining parking lot. I wished I were there under different circumstances so I could appreciate the way his biceps rippled and flexed as he worked. He stopped what he was doing to watch as Chief Duncan held my upper arm and escorted me into the police station.

  Joy, the receptionist, greeted us grimly. She obviously knew we were coming. Chief Duncan pulled me to the counter and stood behind me, essentially trapping me in place. An archaic-looking ink fingerprinting set took up space on the countertop. I arched an eyebrow at the chief.

  "Just procedure. Like I said, you aren't under arrest, but having your fingerprints would help us in the investigation," he explained. I could see him practically salivating at the prospect of finding my fingerprints on the evidence. I instinctively balled my hands into tight fists.

  Joy jumped in with a smile. "It's for elimination purposes, Alex. This is like a quicker version of DNA."

  Yeah, right. I didn't think Chief Duncan would plant my fingerprints on anything, but he'd surprised me with his audacity before. Still, I knew for a fact my fingerprints weren't on the locket. And I hadn't touched a pair of scissors—whether from the salon or otherwise—since I'd been back in Piney Ridge. Against my better judgment, I held out my hand for Joy to take my prints.

  Linc walked in as she finished rolling my last thumb.

  "What's going on here?" he asked, his eyes darting from Chief Duncan to me and finally settling on the ink on my fingertips. His eyebrows knit together; his eyes turned to steel.