The Ghost Dances the Nutcracker

by Kristine Frost

  She heaved a big gasping sigh. Then she took one deep breath, paused then let it out. She took another and another. Jarret was relieved when her face lost its translucency.

  “This way.” Her voice was stronger. She pointed down the hall. The two men followed her to her locked studio.

  Her hand was shaking so much that she finally handed the key to the older officer.

  His face hard, he took it and stuck it in the lock. Pulling on plastic gloves, he carefully turned the knob, barely using any pressure. When the door was open, Tabitha pointed at the supply closet. “She’s in there.”

  Inspector Holman reached in and flipped on the light. The closet door was still open and Tabitha could see the victim’s legs.

  She grabbed the door frame, her knees buckling. Inspector Jarret grabbed her arm. “Why don’t you sit down over here until we’re finished?”

  Gratefully, she let him guide her to a wooden box sitting against the wall. He stood in the doorway keeping an eye on both his superior and Tabitha.

  “I’m not going to run away.” Tabitha’s shaky smile reminded him of a ghost.

  Holman stepped into the closet. When he came out, he stopped in front of Tabitha damaged portrait.

  “What happened here?” He demanded looking at Tabitha.

  “It was that way when I got here. There is a knife on the floor. I kicked it when I first walked in. I didn’t see it because I was looking at the picture.”

  Inspector Jarret’s voice was cold. “What were you doing here at this time of night?”

  “I work here. I’ve been commissioned to paint six huge paintings for the theatre. They are supposed to be finished in two weeks. I work on them whenever I have time. I was sick in bed with the flu for a week. Today is the first day I felt up to working so I came down.”

  “Who owns the theatre?” Holman asked.

  “Leland Cabot and he won’t be happy about this. The woman in the closet is one of his lead dancers, Jess Duval.”

  Inspector Holman pulled out his cell. “I’m calling this in. The Superintendent won’t be happy. Cabot contributes heavily to a lot of charities.”

  **********

  A short time later, there was the sound of multiple footsteps entering the foyer. Inspector Jarett hurried down the hall. He returned with a big, burly man who had run to fat.

  “Superintendent Hastings, this is Tabitha Black. She found the body.”

  Holman took the Superintendent to see the body. When he came out, he looked at Tabitha. “Are you the Tabitha Black that owns the Tattersall Gallery?”

  Tabitha nodded.

  “You’re working for Leland Cabot?”

  “I’ve been commissioned to paint pictures of his leading ballerinas for this theater.”

  “Is this Jess Duval French?” He stood looking down at the body.

  Resolutely she turned her face away from the victim. She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think she is American. Duval is a stage name, I believe.”

  The Superintendent glared down at Tabitha while he pulled his lip. “We have an American with English business interests. It looks like the victim is American and I’m guessing from your accent that you were born somewhere in America.”

  “Texas, actually.” Tabitha said, wondering what this all had to do with the murder. She knew as soon as he said, “I’m thinking this is a case for the Yard. We’re not equipped to handle a transatlantic investigation.”

  Somehow, she knew what he was going to say.

  He pulled out his cell phone and hit an icon. “Waverly, this is Superintendent Hastings. I need to call in the Yard.” He quickly explained what he knew.

  “Right. Have them send one of their best men. This case is going to be a stinker.”

  Tabitha crossed her fingers, chanting to herself, “Please don’t let it be Parker. Please don’t let it be Parker.”

  Holman looked down at her, smiling knowingly. “You don’t like Chief Detective Inspector Parker?”

  “Let’s just say we’ve had differences of opinion in the past.”

  “If you don’t think you’ll get a fair hearing, you can claim prejudice and get someone else.” It was obvious he was wondering what she’d done to get on his bad side.

  “I’d rather not have to do that, but it’s good to know that I have that option.”

  A few minutes later, Chief Detective Inspector Parker and Superintendent Hastings walked down the hall. Parker, his blond hair gleaming, his thousand-dollar suit perfectly tailored, walked like he owned the moon.

  “Blast.” Tabitha’s face went pale. “My luck’s run out--totally run out.”

  When Parker saw her sitting there, he got an evil smile on his face. “Miss Black, we meet again and over another case. You seem to have a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Tabitha didn’t say anything and his grin grew broader. He rubbed his hands together almost gleefully.

  “Show me the body.” It was an order as if Jarret was his servant.

  When he entered the closet, Tabitha got to her feet. “I can see myself standing in the dock. He won’t investigate, he’ll just arrest me.”

  “I’d get a good barrister quickly.” Holman kept his voice low and quiet. She could barely hear him.

  Tabitha pulled out her cell phone and pushed the button that dialed Mark’s number. It went to voice mail immediately. “Mark, it’s Tabitha. I just found a dead body and Chief Inspector Parker was called in. I’m pretty sure he’s going to arrest me. Please pick up. I need help--”

  Parker strode back to Tabitha. “Is this your studio?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the picture that has been damaged—you painted the dead girl?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled coldly. “It looks to me like you found her slashing your painting. That infuriated you so you grabbed your belt and strangled her.”

  “I’m not wearing a belt, Chief Detective Inspector.” Tabitha held out her arms. She was wearing paint stained sweats.

  “I can see that. It’s around the neck of the woman you strangled.”

  Tabitha rolled her eyes. “I didn’t do it. Someone--”

  He looked at Holman. “Take her down and book her. I think it’s obvious that we have our killer. I’ve meet her before. She has a hair trigger temper. I’m sure we’ll find her fingerprints on the closet door.”

  “Of course, you will, you idiot. It’s my studio.” From the look on Parker’s face, Tabitha realized that she should have kept her mouth shut.

  “Get her out of my sight.” Chief Detective Inspector Parker’s face was a brick red that clashed with his bright, too blond hair.

  Holman nodded, pulling his handcuffs from his pocket. “Please turn around miss.”

  As she turned, she slipped her phone in her pocket, then positioned her hands behind her back.

  Holman was gentle as he handcuffed her. As they walked out the foyer door, flashbulbs began popping. Holman tried to put himself between her and the paparazzi but there were too many reporters demanding a statement.

  Stoically, Tabitha refused to look at or talk to the reporters. Once in the backseat of the police car, she turned her head away from the window, wishing that she had long hair to hide behind.

  As Holman and Jarret got into the car, Holman said, “Miss, did you turn off your phone?”

  “No.”

  “I hope your solicitor has a really long answering time on his machine.” Holman said. “It will really make Parker look bad and it’s on tape.”

  Tabitha tried to smile. “I just hope he gets it. If my luck holds, he’s spending the evening with his fiancée and he won’t check his messages until tomorrow. It’s too late to make bail tonight anyway.”

  Jarret said, “We’ll make sure they treat you right.”

  Tabitha face felt like it would crack. “Thanks. I just wish we’d have drawn Chief Detective Inspector London for this case. He may not like me, but I know he’d do a decent investigation.”<
br />
  “Why does Chief Detective Inspector Parker hate you so much?” Jarret asked

  “I was involved in another murder investigation. Parker arrested a sixteen-year-old girl for the murder of her father and mother. He wouldn’t listen to anything anyone had to say so I went over his head. He’s hated me ever since.”

  “Ouch!” Holman said. “You are in big trouble.”

  “Do I get a phone call like I would in America?”

  Holman smiled. “Yes, miss.” He pulled out his phone. “Who do you want to call?”

  “My solicitor and friend, Peter Dawes. He works with Mark. He’ll know what to do.”

  Jarret pulled out his phone. “If you’ll give me his number, I’ll call him right now.”

  Tabitha frowned. “Why are you helping me? I’d think you’d just want to lock me up.”

  Jarret’s grin was bleak. “We heard your story. It sounded like you were telling the truth. It makes the police look bad when the wrong person is arrested. Since Holman and I arrested you and escorted you to the car, our pictures will be on the news just like yours. A false arrest will make us look bad, too.”

  Tabitha nodded. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “It’s our decision, miss.” Holman added. “Jarret and I have worked with Parker before.”

  “I see,” Tabitha tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. She gave Jarret Peter’s number.

  The phone rang.

  “Dawes.”

  Jarret put the phone on speaker and rested it on the back of his seat. “Peter, it’s Tabitha. You’re on speaker.”

  “What’s up? You sound upset.”

  “I am. I’ve just been arrested for the murder of Jess Duval. I tried to call Mark but he didn’t pick up.”

  “He’s here with me.” They could hear him tell Mark to check his phone.

  “Peter, I’m almost to the police station. Inspectors Jarret and Holman are helping me. Chief Detective Inspector Parker was the one who arrested me.”

  “I’m putting you on speaker. What happened?”

  Quickly, Tabitha told them. “I was leaving a message for Mark when he arrested me. You might get a recording of what he said to me. I don’t know if Mark’s phone picked up all of the conversation.”

  Mark said. “I’ll check. Let me call the Police Commissioner. I think he’d want to know what Parker is up to now. A suit for false arrest against Parker might make his day.”

  “I don’t want to sue him. I just don’t want to spend the night in jail.”

  “Tabitha, as long as men like Parker get away with not doing their job, innocent people like you will continue to suffer. If my phone recorded your arrest, we have a case and I think we should take it.”

  Tabitha could feel the tears try to fall from her eyes. “I don’t think I can make a decision right now. I think we’re here.”

  “Don’t say anything to anyone. If Parker or Hastings comes to question you, stand mute. You don’t have to say anything without your solicitor present.”

  “That’s something I can do. I can keep my mouth shut.”

  Peter kept his voice soothing. “Be pleasant, but uncommunicative. You can tell them your name, but you don’t need to tell them anything else. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Peter. Thanks, Mark.”

  Jarret pushed the delete button, turned off his phone, slid it into his pocket. “That call never happened.”

  Tabitha nodded. “You guys are great. I owe you big time.”

  Holman drove the police car into a parking spot near the door. Both he and Jarret got out. Jarret helped Tabitha from the car. “Let’s hurry before the press realizes that we aren’t going in the front way.” He grabbed her arm and she nearly ran into the police station.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, her heart felt like a drill bit was ripping it apart.

  They took her through to an office that was away from the public area. Holman went to get the paperwork. He came back with a small, thin man and a sheaf of papers.

  “I’m Detective Sargent Rawlins. I’ll be processing you.”

  He sat down, pulled out a pen. “Your name is Tabitha Black.”

  “Yes.” She said.

  “Your age?”

  “I’m sorry Detective Sergeant Rawlins, but I’m not answering any questions until my solicitor, Peter Dawes gets here. I understand that’s my right.”

  “Ma’am, please.” He looked like he was going to cry.” Detective Chief Inspector Parker will expect me to have booked you by the time he gets here to question you.”

  “I could care less what Detective Chief Inspector Parker wants. I’m standing mute until my solicitor gets here.”

  Holman looked at Rawlins. “According to her solicitor, she’s within her rights.”

  “Detective Chief Inspector Parker expects to interrogate you. He isn’t going to be happy.”

  Tabitha’s face took on a look of fiendish glee. “I hope he isn’t happy It would make my day for him to be really, really unhappy when Peter walks in the door.”

  Chapter 6—Police Headquarters

  Tabitha forced herself to sit back in her chair even though it put stress on her arms. She could feel her muscles going rigid even though she was trying to pretend that Mark and Peter would get there before Parker, that the killer would give himself up, that everything would be okay. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Forty-five minutes later, Parker sauntered the office, the malignantly gleeful smile still on his face. He looked like he had just been made Police Commissioner.

  As soon as Parker walked in Rawlins scrambled out of his chair. Parker leaned over to look at the processing paperwork. When he saw there was only Tabitha’s name written on the paper, he grabbed the forms, crumpling them in his hands.

  He turned on Rawlins. His face got red and sweaty, his big hands with their manicured nails opening and closing. “I told you to get her processed.” His voice was low, menacing, his face mottled with anger, his whole body shaking with rage.

  Rawlins swallowed, his eyes darting around the room like he was looking for a hole to crawl in. “I can’t process her--”

  Before he could finish, Parker’s face was inches from his. “What do you mean, you can’t process her? Are you an idiot? Is your arm broken? Or did you misplace your brain?”

  Parker’s voice got louder, more sardonic with each question.

  Tabitha could see Rawlins shrivel. That poor man. Maybe, I should say something.

  She happened to glance at Jarret who shook his head. Standing behind Parker, he pantomimed zipping his lip shut.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began counting, breathing in on the count of one and out on the count for four.

  After three breathes, she felt someone in her space. Hot breath bathed her eyelids. Opening her eyes, Parker’s mouth was inches from her face. She forced herself to not flinch.

  He’s not getting to me. She thought.

  “Bored, are we?” His voice was sickening sweet. His breath needing a mint.

  Tabitha glared up at him. She opened her mouth to annihilate him but remembered Peter’s instructions just in time.

  When she didn’t answer him, he turned on Jarret. “What’s going on here? When I give orders, I expect them to be obeyed.”

  Jarret shrugged. “Her solicitor told her to stand mute until he arrived. I imagine that’s why she hasn’t said anything.”

  “I didn’t tell you to let her call her solicitor or anyone else.” His spittle hit Jarret in the face.

  Jarret reached in his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief and ostentatiously wiped his face. “She called while you were looking at the crime scene.”

  Tabitha had to fight to hide a smile. Jarret’s comment ‘looking at the crime scene’ was an obvious dig.

  “So which of your two boyfriends have you chosen to help you out this time? At least London has the good sense to stay away from you.”
/>
  Tabitha’s heart twisted, the knot clamping down hard, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to swallow, difficult to think.

  Tabitha knew he was taunting her, but her brain wasn’t bouncing back from his dig. I guess staying silent is the best thing I can do until I get my brain back.

  She let her eyes focus on the crime scene, trying to remember if anything felt off, but then it all felt off.

  There was a loud bang as Parker picked up a book and slammed it down on the desk causing everyone in the room to jump.

  “Lock her up.” His face had gone a deep beet red “Get her out of my sight.” His voice reverberated around the room.

  “Not so fast, Parker.” Mark walked into the room. “Where’s your evidence.”

  Chapter 7—Scotland Yard headquarters—that same night

  Detective Sergeant Edward Tolliver pulled his report from the printer, neatly stacked the pages, stapled them, setting them on his desk. He looked over at Detective Sergeant Georgette Walsh. “Was tonight the night you and Tabitha were going to the show?”

  Georgette shook her head. “She cancelled. She’d been sick so she wanted to work on her last painting.”

  Detective Constable Patrick Farmer grinned at Tolliver. “Ed, why don’t you ask Tabitha out? It’s pretty plain that you really like her.”

  Tolliver glared at Farmer. “Watch your mouth, Detective Constable. It won’t take much more lip for you to be back walking a beat. I’m a married man. Besides I wouldn’t want to encroach on London’s territory.”

  Georgette snorted. “Like he’d have anything to do with her. She thinks he walks on water and he thinks she belongs on the bottom of the sea.”

  Farmer grimaced. “It’s too bad he can’t appreciate her rather than that wealthy shrew he’s engaged to.”

  Georgette shrugged. “Men don’t want what they can have—they want what they can’t.”

  “Hey!” Farmer’s protest was loud. “That doesn’t just apply to men. Women are no different.” He’d proposed the weekend before and his girl had turned him down. She just wanted to be friends.