Murderous Heart

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  I lifted the feline’s chin. “So back to less disturbing matters, Mason. What do you think? Charge into the police station and tell them what we discovered? Even at the risk of running into Jimmy Farlow? Or should I send an anonymous note?” Mason’s tail swished until it landed across his face. “Is that your answer? Very wise. I should remain anonymous.”

  Light flashed outside. A moment later the windows rattled at a crack of thunder. “Another storm coming in.” I flicked on the television, and rain began to pelt the glass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  R arity loved the new clock she’d installed on the wall above the retail shelves. We’d agreed the oversized vintage timepiece was a lovely addition to our homey village salon. She’d mounted it, and then left to drive to the supply store. I sat at the desk waiting for the phone to ring, while the clock became increasingly intrusive. It punctuated the seconds, minutes and hours with incessant ticking. The noise tended to echo in the empty room.

  Business was slow, more like non-existent, at The Rare Curl. Stacy wouldn’t arrive until later for her afternoon schedule. No chattering customers sat in the waiting room. Ellen Felicity was on duty waiting for a possible walk-in, but we didn’t talk. She’d swept and re-swept the floor around her styling chair. Eventually satisfied with its cleanliness, she’d taken a cloth to her mirror and counter-top. Vigorous scrubbing and polishing produced a high shine on the old surface. I wondered how that was possible.

  I told myself it would be a nice gesture to compliment her, but my obstinate nature refused. The encouraging words wouldn’t come out. In my defense, I’d already made several stabs at conversation. Each effort had won a single word answer, or a hum. So I’d washed and filled the coffee pot and completed all appointment reminder calls. Now, I sat at my desk, waiting and watching the second hand make its hesitant trip around the new clock.

  A piercing jingle from the string of bells, attached to the front door, nearly startled me out of my chair. My gaze darted to the entrance with anticipation. Would it be the health inspector? Someone looking for the hardware store? Maybe a bank robber? Anyone would be a welcome intrusion.

  My friend Anita held the door open and leaned in. “Are you busy? I’ll go on to Ava’s if I’m interrupting.”

  “No! Please don’t leave. The only thing you’re interrupting is my slow death from boredom. No customers this morning and the phone hasn’t rung in an hour. What’s up?”

  She grabbed a chair on her way through to waiting room and dragged it close to the desk. “I got to town early for an appointment and wanted to talk to you about our little discovery last night.” She fake whispered the last part.

  “The photo album?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t sleep all night for wondering why Valentina Utkin kept all those pictures. And how could one woman have so many dates with different men? Who were they? And I still worry about that one picture.” Lowering her voice to a fake whisper again. “The one of the man we know.”

  “It’s too bad his photo’s in the book, but I don’t know what we can do about it. We can’t take it out—it’s evidence.”

  Anita groaned. “I wish we hadn’t left it there. With so many other photos of men, what does just one matter?”

  “If the woman was murdered, the book is crucial. All of it. We can’t go destroying evidence just because we happen to know one of the men she was involved with. If the alliance comes out, he’ll face the consequences.”

  Furrows formed across Anita’s brow, and I thought she might be close to tears. “I’m so worried.”

  “Have a cup of coffee.”

  “No thanks. I’m fine. I just want people to be happy.”

  “This whole case is so frustrating. I wish it were over.” I also wished I hadn’t let Anita talk me into breaking into the house. Looking for clues was fun. But the problem with discovering evidence was—it called for a response. “I’m sure they’ll conclude Valentina committed suicide or had a heart attack. It’ll be over, as far as our police department is concerned. They’ll file the paperwork away. Even if they look through the book and recognize the picture, they won’t have any reason to tell his wife.”

  “Okay. I know you’re right. I agree we have to turn it over to the police. How are you going to do it?”

  I leveled my eyes at Anita. “Me?”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, you’re good at that sort of thing.”

  “You mean I have a knack for blundering into police business and getting myself into trouble. But you’re right, it should be me. There’s no reason for you to be involved. You should be free in case I need you to post bail.”

  Anita gasped and wrinkled her brow.

  I laughed but I’m not sure Anita bought it. She knew I was concerned. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to do this without telling them we broke into the Utkin’s house.”

  “If we wait long enough, they’ll rule on the cause of death. Maybe the pictures won’t make any difference. We could forget all about it.”

  “True. How long do you suppose we can wait?” I massaged my temples while I thought about the tactic. “No. I don’t feel good about withholding the information.”

  “You’re right of course. The proper thing to do would be to give it to them.” Anita paused to squint at me. “But don’t do anything rash. Maybe there’s a better plan.” She raised her eyes to the ticking clock. “I have to get to my appointment. Now I’m late.” She stood and returned her chair to the waiting area. At the door she said, “Consider alternatives, and we’ll talk later.”

  Anita waved and scooted out to join the rush hour crowd on the sidewalk.”

  I pulled my chair closer to the reception desk and glanced at Rarity’s clock. Still ten minutes before my boss would return. I doodled a hanging stick figure on the appointment book and wondered what the charge would be for entering Valentina Utkin’s house, a possible crime scene, without permission. And even worse, would I be implicated in her murder—if it was murder?

  The jingling front door brought me out of my bleak thoughts of life behind bars. Rarity and Stacy walked in together, breathing life into the suffocating salon. Suddenly The Rare Curl was filled with chatter and activity.

  The door to the stockroom squawked as Rarity carried in a bag of supplies, and once again as she exited the room followed by Ellen Felicity.

  Rarity beamed. “Someone has been working hard. That supply room positively shines.”

  Ellen raised a shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m the guilty party. I took it upon myself to clean it. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in a while.”

  She gathered her handbag from the cabinet and breezed past me on her way to the front door. “I’m getting a cup of coffee.”

  I pointed to our coffee bar. “There’s a full pot here.”

  The bells clattered against the door as it banged shut.

  There was little time to wonder about my reclusive coworker. Women filtered in to fill the styling chairs and began shouting over the whine of blow-dryers. The phone, once it had broken its silence, didn’t stop ringing.

  Ellen Felicity returned, sipping her Blue Mountain Arabica coffee from a to-go cup, and took my position at the desk. My shift was over.

  With my handbag slung over my shoulder I trotted to the car, determined to drive past the dead woman’s house, one more time. She’d been on my mind since Anita’s visit. Valentina was someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s sister. Was she a mother? From the looks of the scrapbook, she’d had many male acquaintances. How could she have lain secretly entombed in the garage for so long?

  Chapter Sixteen

  I drove into the quiet neighborhood and eased up on the accelerator, letting the Chrysler coast past Valentina Utkin’s house. What would I see that I hadn’t detected before? Was there something about the shrubbery or the exterior of the house that would provide insight into Valentina’s life? Silly thoughts. This wasn’t a detective novel where clues jumped out at the hero, and I don’t believe murders return to
the scene of the crime.

  Sliding my foot back onto the gas pedal, I returned my attention to the road ahead, determined to put the mummy lady out of my mind. I flipped on my turn signal and slowed at the stop sign. A long blue sedan glided past me, heading in the opposite direction.

  The elegant Lincoln Town Car grabbed my attention. I bet it was a smooth ride. The owner of a luxury car, like that, probably never even felt a bump in the road. I just knew it had power steering and power locks. And the radio worked, in the front and the back speakers. Surround sound? How much would an automobile like that cost? How long would I have to eat Ramen noodles in order to save enough?

  What was I thinking? A big car had never been on my wish list. But lately I’d been ogling every pretty car on the road. I knew I should be happy with my free station wagon. It carried me to where I wanted to go. And no payments.

  Still admiring the Lincoln, something else grabbed my attention about the lovely blue vehicle—the driver. Perry Sizemore filled the area behind the steering wheel. I held my foot on the brake and stared into the rear-view mirror. Perry passed Utkin’s house, traveling almost as slow as I had.

  “Why are you cruising this neighborhood, Perry?” I said this to no one. I was in the car alone, without even the cat to talk to.

  When the Lincoln drove out of sight, I completed the turn and pulled to the curb. Notebook in hand, I scribbled thoughts as fast as they came. What was Perry’s interest in that house? His company wouldn’t get the listing. Anita and I knew he was well acquainted with the dead woman. Was he, like me, simply curious about what had happened?

  On a more serious note, had he known the woman was dead for the past six months? Had he been waiting for someone to find her? Did he kill her?

  Stop it. Don’t be crazy.

  It was Perry Sizemore, someone I’d known since high-school. He was a well-known business man. Sure, he was a little weird and overly attentive, but not a killer. He’d admitted he knew the woman. He hadn’t been strictly forthcoming about how well he knew her. That was understandable, being a married man.

  Valentina possessed an incriminating photograph. Easily a motive for murder. Did she threaten him, or try to blackmail him? How far would a man go to save his reputation and his marriage?

  I was deep in thought when the knock vibrated the window. I stifled a scream and tossed the notebook in the air. Perry’s face filled the window. He put up his hand in wave and pantomimed lowering the glass.

  Now what? Roll down the window, or put my foot on the gas and speed away? Had he seen the lethal questions I’d written? It was then I glanced at the door locks. All the buttons were up. He could have easily opened my door.

  For goodness sake Lauren. Pull yourself together. It was broad daylight and on a public street.

  Taking a deep breath, I lowered the glass. “Hello Perry. Didn’t see you there.”

  “I saw you drive past me and knew we had to talk. Why don’t you come over to my car where we’ll be comfortable?”

  “Um. Sure. I want to talk to you too. But we might as well sit in the Chrysler since you’re already here.”

  No way would I get into his car. That’s how people disappeared.

  Perry scanned the interior of my car, and glanced back at his Lincoln. Finally, he walked around the station wagon and climbed in the passenger side. After wedging himself in, he gave a little bounce, rocking the car. “Not bad for an older vehicle.”

  He twisted his shoulders toward me. “Listen, I know you and Anita saw right through my story about not knowing Valentina. I’ll tell you the truth. Our first meeting began exactly as I said. But she seemed so lonely, I sat down, and we talked for quite a while. I felt she hadn’t had anyone to confide in for a long time. No family in town. Maybe not even in the country as far as I could tell. No friends.”

  “You became even better acquainted, didn’t you? I think you dated her.”

  Why did I say that? Did I want to antagonize him? I wanted to stuff my purse in my mouth.

  Perry sat up straight. “Who told you?” After a beat, he said, “Oh, you guessed. You’re good at that.”

  When I got my breathing under control, I nodded. “Yes. I guessed.”

  “And now I’ve confirmed it. You’re one smart woman.”

  Perry took a breath and forged ahead as though determined to get it all out. “Valentina and I met once or twice in the city. I took her to a nice restaurant. It made her happy to know someone cared. I admit having a beautiful woman on my arm fed my ego. It did a lot for my image.”

  The big man slumped into the seat. “That was all there was to it, I swear. After the second date, my conscience got to me. I hated the thought of cheating on Marlene. I couldn’t sleep for worrying. So, I broke it off with Valentina. Not sure if she believed me, but I assured her I cared. And I did. But it was a bad situation and I told her she needed someone who was free to treat her as she deserved.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “I could tell it broke her heart, but she said she understood.”

  “How long did the relationship last?”

  Perry jerked his head toward me. “It wasn’t a relationship. We met a few times, and within a month it was over.”

  Perry’s mood seemed to plummet. I saw anger in his eyes as he stared at me. His cheeks flushed. “As I said, she was a lonely woman. I felt sorry for her.”

  I slid my left hand to the door handle, hoping it wouldn’t fight me if I had to make a quick exit. “I believe you. You were simply being nice to a lonely woman.”

  He glanced away. “That’s right. I shouldn’t have taken Valentina to dinner. I know that now.” After a moment his eyes darted back to me. “Marlene would be hurt if she ever heard of it. I hope she never does.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise she won’t hear about it from me. We all make mistakes. I’ve made enough of my own.”

  He stared at me for a beat, maybe assessing whether he could believe me.

  I produced the closest thing to a reassuring smile I could muster. “I was curious. But you’ve cleared it up. I appreciate you sharing this with me.”

  Perry straightened in the seat. “Thank you. I’m glad I got it off my chest, and I knew you’d understand.” He released his door. “I trust you to keep your promise.”

  “You can count on me.”

  Perry hauled himself out of the Chrysler and lumbered to his Lincoln.

  My hand still clenched the door handle, and I slowly relaxed my grip. Perry was already in his car, but I stretched over the seat to punch all of the door locks. With a trembling hand I shifted the wagon into drive.

  Was Perry simply being kind to Valentina Utkin? I couldn’t help thinking there was more to the relationship than dinner. Did he know about the photo album—her trophy case?

  Stop thinking about it. Not your business.

  If—when—the truth about Perry’s flirtations came out, I didn’t want the leak to be traced back to me. To be technical, if Marlene got the news from the Evelynton police department, I would have kept my promise. Wouldn’t I?

  Those thoughts swirled around in my head for at least ten minutes, before I remembered I was supposed to be driving home. I glanced at the street sign. Maple Drive—three blocks past my turn. I punched the brake, made a left turn and circled the block, determined to pay attention to the road until I was safely at Stoneybridge.

  Once inside the house, my thoughts exploded into words, and I scared the cat. “Mason, guess who I saw drive past the mummy woman’s house? Perry Sizemore. Then he caught me recording ideas in the notebook. What if he saw what I was writing? Would he misunderstand my interest?”

  The feline flattened himself on the floor. When I paused for breath, he stood, executed a sharp u-turn, and galloped from the room. Was my cat psychic? Was it Perry’s name that scared him? What did Mason know that I didn’t?

  I’d lost my mind.

  I sat down to take another breath, and to thin
k it through. I hadn’t lost my mind. It was more likely low-blood-sugar. All I needed was lunch.

  A chicken sandwich brought my blood chemistry into line. Brain-waves back to normal, I spent the remainder of the afternoon editing magazine articles. The street lights were on when I looked up and my stomach was growling again, so I shut down the computer.

  After dinner Mason curled up with me on the sofa for an evening of Hitchcock movies.

  Given my state of mind, it might not have been a wise choice.

  After three classic movies, my eyelids began to droop, so I made my way to the bedroom. Thunder grumbled outside as I turned off the light. After a couple hours of sleep, Valentina Utkin and Perry Sizemore popped into my dreams, startling me awake. All the questions I’d asked myself earlier returned to torment me.

  Storms continued to rumble and rain pounded the ground outside. I went to the window in hopes of watching the shower, but it was too dark to catch more than occasional wet reflections. Sporadic flashes of lightning afforded glimpses of the misshapen tree at the center of the lawn.

  In one of those flashes, I saw him. The sighting lasted only a couple seconds, but someone was standing in the rain. A man. Or could it have been a woman? Someone lurked on my property. I waited for the next flash of lightning but when it came, the space under the tree was empty. I franticly searched with strained eyes to discover any shape or out-of-place shadow in the glimmering light. My heart thumped against my chest as I reached for the phone. My hand fell on the empty bedside table.

  Crap. I’d left the phone in the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I flipped on the bedroom light. Remembering prowlers were often deterred by house lights, I hit the hall light on the run to the living room. After switching on two table lamps I proceeded to the kitchen. I left the room dark, but hit the switch for the outside light. Then I crept to the window and peered out. No one in sight. Were they at the back of the property, still shrouded in shadow? I waited for another lightning flash. When it came, there was no one in sight.