Murderous Heart

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  I whispered. “Is he turning green?”

  My friend and I parted to make room as he rushed between us and burst through the open door to the back yard. Officer Smith trotted along after him. Clair and I turned to see Farlow standing in the shrubbery, bent over at the waist. We averted our eyes as he made retching noises. When finished, he came up gasping for air. I couldn’t blame him. No matter how many years he’d been on the job he’d only worked in Evelynton. I had a suspicion he’d never run into a case like this.

  Officer Smith fared better. He circled the back-yard taking deep cleansing breaths.

  The two gained strength and returned to the house. “Amos, we’ll have to call the chief and the cor…. Ugh.” Farlow pivoted and stumbled through the sliding door once again.

  A few minutes later he returned with his phone to his ear. Clicking it off, he maintained his composure. “The chief says he’ll take care of notifying all the proper departments.”

  Farlow put his hand on the notebook always stowed in his pocket. Before he could pull it out his skin-color paled and he trudged toward the backyard. “Let’s go out here while I take your statements.” The officer took deep breaths, looking as if he was preparing for natural childbirth. He breathed in and blew out, while Clair filled him in on all the particulars. My friend was good at sticking to the facts and seldom got herself into trouble. Unfortunately one of the facts was that I’d been inside the car.

  “Ms. Halloren, why did you enter the automobile with the body?”

  Crap.

  “Obviously I didn’t know there was a body. If I’d known I wouldn’t have gotten near it.” I paused to calm myself and adjust my attitude. “Clair mentioned the car might be for sale and I need one. I only sat in the front seat and didn’t notice the odor at first.”

  I tapped my nose. “Allergies or a cold has had me stuffed up. It took a couple of minutes before the smell penetrated.” I glanced toward the house. “I never want to see a used car again. My Chrysler may be old, but at least I know there isn’t corpse in it.”

  Farlow began to sway and turned his attention to the shrubbery. With a wave of his hand he said, “You two can go. Show up at the station later this afternoon to finish your statements.” He edged toward the bushes and we dashed for the door.

  We power-walked through the living room to the front door and ran for the car. Clair pushed buttons that lowered all the windows.

  On the way home I couldn’t help but giggle. “Poor Jimmy Farlow. He was absolutely green. Bet he was mortified when he got sick. I hope he didn’t get anything on his perfect uniform. He’ll have to take it to the drycleaner.”

  “He’s always been so professional. Do you suppose he’s ever vomited at a crime scene before? I bet he’s swearing Amos to secrecy right now.”

  “He couldn’t even keep it together long enough to write in his trusty notebook.” A wave of remorse hit me. “Let’s quit making fun of him. He tries so hard.”

  “You’re right. I’ll change the subject.” Clair grinned and tipped her head toward me. “Do you still want me to inquire about buying the car? I bet you’ll get it really cheap, now. Maybe free.”

  I cut my eyes to Clair. “Very funny. I’d rather ride a bike.”

  ~~

  Clair pulled to the curb in front of my house on Stoneybridge, to let me out.

  My trusty feline friend, Mason, sat inside the front door, waiting to greet me. I reached down to take him into my arms but he crouched out of my reach. Hair stood up on his back and his nose twitched as he crept toward me. Then my loyal companion, who needed reminding that I’d rescued him from life on the street, spun around and fled the room. Claws scraped the hard-wood floor as he steaked into the dining room.

  “Oh come on. A little support here. It can’t be that bad.” The cat flattened himself to the floor and peeked out from under the dining room table. “Well, it’s sort of bad.” I stripped off my clothes in the kitchen and stuffed them into a garbage bag destined for the trash, before running for the shower. It took two shampoos, and scrubbing every inch of skin with a loofah, before I felt presentable to the cat, let alone the rest of the world.

  When I returned to the living room Mason cautiously inspected me before he welcomed me home. There was no telling how the rest of Evelynton would receive me, after word got out.

  Chapter Five

  A full night in bed and I was still exhausted. Had I even slept? Oh, yes. It was all too clear. I’d slept enough to experience several frantic dreams. Each vision featured a new dead body. The last turned out to be a nightmarish adventure and I recalled every minute of it.

  I sang to the radio as I drove my vintage station wagon along a murky country road. That I sang The Monster Mash should have alerted that it something was up. But I happily warbled until I glanced to my right. I wasn’t alone in the Chrysler. A shriveled and blackened corpse occupied the passenger seat. When I noticed the uninvited guest seemed to be wearing my sweater, I screamed and the steering wheel spun. We—that’s me and the ghoulish figure beside me—careened off the road, bounced down an embankment, and landed in a thorn bush. If I thought the dead passenger was scary, there was worse to come. Illuminated by the headlights, Officer Farlow stood front and center, glaring at me. It was that sight that woke me. My heart thumped and the stench of decay filled my nostrils.

  As I laid in bed, calming myself, my brain told me the smell was only in the dream. But my nose wasn’t convinced. Back in the shower, I successfully removed another layer of skin, finished with an application of lavender scented lotion and a healthy coating of hair-spray. I don’t often use hair-spray. My hair usually does what it wants, but the added flowery scent couldn’t hurt. I thought I might make standing three feet away from people a rule for the day.

  When I made it to the kitchen, perfumed and dressed, Mason glanced at me from beside his food dish. “Good morning. Where were you last night? I was expecting you to keep my feet warm.”

  The cat stared at his empty food dish.

  Taking the hint, I rummaged in the closet for the cat food. “Where did you sleep?”

  Mason lifted his chin to gaze into space, ignoring me as only a feline could. “Oh come on, the odor is gone. Everything back to normal.”

  I filled his dish with kibble and carried my coffee to the dining table. When my judgmental pet finished eating, he silently padded into the room and circled me. “I know cats have a keen sense of smell, but…” He relaxed and sat on my foot. A quiet gesture of acceptance.

  ~~

  I stood outside The Rare Curl while I counted to ten, not sure what reaction might await me inside. After spending the entire night reliving the previous day, recounting it to anyone seemed like agony. But pretending the events didn’t happen wouldn’t fly either. Word would have seeped between the cracks of the police department walls and circulated through town before lights-out last night. It would have been the prime topic of conversation over every plate of bacon and eggs that morning.

  I grabbed the door and charged in. Rarity stood beside her styling station and flashed a cheerful welcoming smile. “Good morning, Lauren. How are you this lovely morning? Did you have a nice day off?”

  No urgent requests as to the state of my well-being? No “Tell me all about it.”

  Could it be that my boss was unaware of the gruesome find? Was I wrong about Evelynton’s wagging tongues? No, the more accurate answer would be Rarity was the one person in town who actively avoided gossip. One of her favorite sayings was something about, without wood a fire goes out.

  She plopped down in a waiting room chair and pushed her hair from her face. “The phone’s been ringing all morning, but I was knee-deep in floor cleaner in the supply room, so I let it go to voice-mail. Thank goodness it’s your day to work. I knew you’d take care of the messages. Sorry, there are probably a lot of them.”

  She flashed a grin. “Good news, though. I’ve hired a new hairdresser and she will be able to help you with the desk until she
builds her client list. You’ll get to know her later this week.”

  “That’s exciting. I look forward to meeting her. But there’s something you should know before anyone else comes in.”

  I sank into the chair next to Rarity. “Yesterday was a strange day. You’ll hear the story soon enough.” Rarity gave me her full attention as I related the string of events leading to the horrific discovery.

  Sometime during the conversation, Stacy slipped in and stood near us. When she’d heard enough, she hissed, “It was you! You found the mummified woman? My friend Irma—she works at the police station—called me this morning. It’s so exciting.” Stacy leaned toward me—close enough I could feel her breath. “What’d it look like? Was it scary? How gross was it?” Evelynton’s gossip mill had lived up to my expectations.

  Rarity glanced at Stacy. “I’m sure the experience must have been troubling for Lauren. Let’s not hash over the gory particulars.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” Stacy nodded and stood up straight. A few seconds later, she’d returned her attention to me. “Do you know who it was? They said it was a female, but Irma didn’t hear a name. She couldn’t hear much through the closed office door. Only caught bits of information.” Stacy lowered her voice. “What can you tell me?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have any idea of the woman’s identity. The house was supposed to be vacant. That’s all I know.”

  Stacy planted her hands on her hips. “Okay. They said they think it was the owner of the house. The body was almost mummified. It must have been there at least six months, maybe longer. Just think, in the back of the car all that time.”

  Rarity shook her head. “The poor woman. Maybe she was cleaning the car and had a heart attack or an episode of some kind.”

  Stacy sucked in a deep breath. “I bet she committed suicide. Let the motor run. Then went to the back to lie down and wait for the carbon monoxide to get her. She was probably alone and depressed. Happens all the time.”

  Stacy took a minute to stare into space. “Can you imagine? Then the body just laid there.”

  That troubled me. “They said she’d been there six months? Why didn’t anyone report her missing? No one checked on her? Where was her family? Where were her friends?”

  I thought back to when my husband had been killed by a stray bullet in Tampa. I’d shut everyone out. If I’d died, how long would my body have lain unattended in the condo? I wouldn’t have been found until the rent was overdue, or the smell seeped through the walls.

  Ick.

  Rarity clenched the cross pendant she always wore. “It’s such a sad story. The Bible says ‘Two are better than one.’ And even has the warning. ‘Woe to him who falls when he is alone. He has no one to lift him up.’ That’s in Ecclesiastes.”

  Stacy and I observed a moment of silence.

  I twisted toward Stacy. “Wait. If she committed suicide, it couldn’t have been with car exhaust. The keys weren’t in the ignition. I didn’t see them anywhere.”

  “Huh.” She walked to her styling station and pulled out her supplies for the day. “Must have done it some other way. Shot herself? Took pills?”

  “Did Irma say whether or not they found a gun?”

  “Oh. No.”

  Stacy waved her hands and rushed back. “I forgot to tell you. The mummy was holding a flower—all dried up—in her hand. Weird isn’t it? That’s sort of why I thought it was suicide.”

  My boss and I asked simultaneously, “What kind of flower?” I don’t know why that seemed to matter.

  “I don’t know. Like I said, it was dried up. Same condition as the body.”

  Stacy stared into my eyes. “I know. The mummy lady took poison and laid herself out in the back seat with a flower in her hand. Then she waited to die.”

  Rarity stood and planted her hands on her hips. “Let’s offer respect to the deceased and not refer to her as the mummy lady. And please refrain from speculation today. There will be enough of that from our customers. Be assertive and steer the conversations to more pleasant subjects.”

  “You’re right. We don’t need to add to the gossip.” I moved to my desk.

  “Alright.” Stacy shuffled to the coffee pot.

  I studied the appointment book but couldn’t get the mummy, umm, deceased out of my mind. The woman who’d died with no one to care. She’d dropped out of sight and no one missed her. Sad thoughts swirled through my head for the remainder of my shift. By the time I left the salon, I could barely walk under the weight of it. I turned to my one refuge, Ava’s Java. The jovial proprietor’s friendly smile was always a welcome sight.

  I visited the coffee shop several times a week. Would Ava notice if I disappeared? If no one saw me for a week, for two or three weeks, would anyone miss me?

  “Rarity would miss me.” I said to no one. But what if I didn’t have the part-time job? Who then? An old loneliness began to surface.

  “Lauren!” A voice bubbled from my favorite table near the window.

  What was I thinking? Anita brought me back to reality. I couldn’t ask for a more reliable friend. The woman was on the phone if I was fifteen minutes late for a coffee date. If she didn’t get an answer she’d be pounding on my door. Clair might take longer to notice my absence, but sooner or later she’d look for me, too. I settled my mug on the table, pulled up a chair, and eased into it to bask in the glow of friendship. I whispered, “Thank you God.” There were at least three people in the world who would notice if I dropped out of sight.

  Friends. There was a time when I didn’t have any. An introvert by temperament, depression had forced me further into seclusion. It was only my necessary move back to Evelynton that brought me out of the imagined safety of solitude. And then only after Anita and Clair aggressively inserted themselves into my daily schedule.

  Anita gazed into my eyes and shook her head. “Clair called this morning and filled me in on the events. What an ugly experience. I couldn’t believe she made you get into the car. Of course I’m sure that was before she realized there was a corpse was in the backseat.”

  I pulled at my collar. “I keep imagining I can smell it. Even had nightmares last night.”

  Anita stretched over table and sniffed. “I don’t smell anything. Except your perfume. It smells nice. Is it new?”

  She clasped her coffee cup with both hands. “How do you suppose the poor woman was in there, dead, for so long without anyone realizing? What about her family? Her friends?”

  “That’s what I’ve been wondering all morning. I guess there was no one who cared enough to look for her.”

  “Hard to believe it happened here. This is Evelynton, for goodness sake. I thought everybody knew everyone’s business.”

  Anita sipped her coffee before beginning again. “What about her bills?” She ticked off her fingers. “Lights? Gas? House payment? Car payment? Shouldn’t someone have noticed her mail piling up?”

  “The electricity was off when we got there. It had been out long enough for the food in the refrigerator to rot. I didn’t see any mail.”

  My friend leaned back in her chair and eyed me. “This is quite a mystery. And what’s the story going around? She held a flower in her hand? I think it’s a job for the Danger Girls Detective Agency. Let’s go over and question the neighbors. I bet they know something. We could break the case wide open.”

  I leveled my gaze at Anita. “There is no Danger Girls Detective Agency. I’m a writer not a detective. And you are a contented housewife. At least you were before you got involved with me.”

  “You’re only hesitant because you almost got shot those other times. There’s no danger of that here. The woman’s been dead for—what did they estimate—six months to a year, at least?”

  Anita threw her hands in the air. “Let’s do it. This will be an adventure, and it will be safe.”

  My resolve wavered. “It’s true the risk, if there ever was one, is in the past. I admit it’s intriguing.”

  I began to mentally l
ist questions I’d ask the neighbors. “Hold on. There’s another problem. I’ve been warned repeatedly to stay out of police business. There might not be a risk of being shot, but there would be one of me being thrown into jail.”

  Anita studied me as she stirred her coffee. “Still, I know you’re curious. And you can’t be arrested for doing an interview.” She flashed a smile. “If nothing else, this could give you the plot for your true crime novel.”

  “No. You know I’ve given that up. I have no talent for recognizing criminals. I always pick the wrong one.”

  I tried to ignore Anita’s prodding. I wanted to be excited about going home to write travel articles, so I fixed my eyes on the traffic outside the window.

  Anita was quiet.

  Unable to resist, I glanced back. Blue eyes stared at me. The woman didn’t blink. “Okay. I am curious about the story. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to speak to a neighbor or two.”

  Anita slurped the last of her coffee and grinned. “You’re off work for the day, right? I’m open until dinner time.”

  “Now? I should go home and finish—”

  “Oh, come on. I want to go now. You can write later.” She reminded me of a twelve year old. I didn’t know any pre-teens but imagined that’s how one would sound if I told them they couldn’t go to a party.

  “Okay. I can’t be arrested for talking. We’ll visit two of the neighbors. If we don’t learn anything, that’ll be the end of it.”

  Chapter Six

  I shielded my eyes from the sun as I studied the victim’s small white house. Anita climbed out of her mini-van and hustled around to stand beside me. “No squad cars or forensic vans. It looks as if the police have finished with it already. Want to see if we can get in?”

  I whipped my gaze to Anita. “No! Are you crazy? There is still crime scene tape across the door. Besides, there’s the trespassing thing.”