Murderous Heart

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  ~~

  Rising early the next morning, I felt lighter than I had since making the ill-advised trip to that woman’s house. My responsibility was in the mail.

  I needed to expend excess energy and to stop trying to master every puzzle, so I put on my sneakers. I planned to leave the Chrysler at home and set out for work on foot. It was time to appreciate the changing leaf colors, the flowers, and the birds. I’d enjoy the morning. I’d leave the Evelynton police force to solve the final mystery—a conundrum that was no longer my business.

  “I’ll see you this afternoon, Mason.”

  The cat looked up from his bowl and responded with a simple “Mew.”

  When I flung the front door open I almost jumped out of my sneakers. I stood face to friendly face with Amos Smith, his fist poised to pound the door.

  His smile was broad and kind. He never scared me, as did his co-worker, Jimmy Farlow. “Hi, Officer Smith. Some timing, huh? What can I do for you?”

  “Good morning, Ms. Halloren. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure. You just caught me on my way to work, but I have time. Come in.”

  Amos stepped in and planted his fists on his hips. “I received a report of a prowler on your property. Maybe a vagrant? It stated you found foot-prints?”

  Good grief. How long does it take a complaint to circulate the Evelynton police department?

  Before I had a chance to respond that he was much too late to see any evidence, Mason trotted into the room with a wadded paper ball in his mouth, and dropped it at the officer’s feet.

  I got a little dizzy.

  “Hi, kitty.” Amos leaned over, picked up the ball and gave it a toss. He chuckled as Mason scampered away and caught the ball, batting it to the corner. “I love cats. You never know what they’re going to do.”

  I took a couple giant steps to grab the wadded anonymous note. “Crazy cat. Always stealing paper from the waste basket. He’d have trash all over the house if I let him.”

  I stuffed the paper into my pocket and returned to Officer Smith. “About the foot-prints, I should have reported it when you were here before, but forgot. Anyway, they’re gone now. Washed away by the three days of rain we had. I’m sorry you had to waste your time driving over.”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Mason strutting in from the kitchen with another waded paper ball.

  The cat hates me.

  Mason sat at Officer Smith’s feet, staring up with adoring kitten eyes. Before I had a chance to intervene, Amos accepted the ball and gave it a toss.

  “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that. But he’s so cute, the way he bats it around. He should be on a soccer team.”

  My aggravating cat seized the paper and trotted back to his new friend. Before I could confiscate it, Amos gave it a toss across the room.

  A silent prayer ran through my mind. “God, I’m sorry I broke into that house. Please don’t let the officer see what’s written on the paper and arrest me.”

  Amos had crouched down, once more, to continue his new game with Mason.

  I held out my hand and lowered my voice, trying to sound firm. “I’ll throw that away. We don’t want to encourage bad behavior, do we?”

  Once again Amos threw it into the dining room for Mason to chase. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I hate to take it away from him. But I guess you need rules, even with pets.” Mason volleyed the ball back to Amos. He picked up the paper and looked at it as if he might throw it. I held my breath. He chuckled and handed it to me—still wadded. “I guess, being a writer, you would have lots of paper around. Can’t let the little fella play with all of it. You’d have quite a mess in the house.”

  I snatched it from him and stuffed it into my pocket. Mason grumbled and bounded to the kitchen.

  Meanwhile Officer Smith stood and put his hand on the door knob. “Guess I better get back to work.”

  “Once again, I’m sorry you had to drive over here for nothing.”

  “Not at all. I had fun playing with your kitty.” He pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch.

  I noticed Mason at my feet, yet another paper ball in his teeth. I bid Officer Smith good-bye and yanked the paper from the cat’s mouth.

  When the door was shut, I leveled my gaze at my pesky pet. “Where did you hide these? Are you trying to get me arrested?”

  Mason stalked from the room, tail in the air. I called after him, “When I get home, I’m conducting a thorough search to see if you have more.”

  I gathered my handbag and stepped onto the porch, my mood considerably less carefree than it had been earlier. Had Amos Smith seen the large printed words inside the note? When they received the letter at the station, would the memory be triggered?

  Speed-walking toward the salon, I neglected to appreciate the colorful leaves, the birds, and the sunshine. How many trial pages had I discarded? Were there more in the house? What if Mason had carried one outside?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  S creeching tires and a blaring car horn set my heart pounding and had me frozen in place. “Watch where you’re going, woman! You wanna get yourself killed?”

  Crap. I’d marched right out into oncoming traffic. On my stroll to work, I’d not only forgotten to admire nature, as I’d planned, but I’d become so distracted I’d missed the transition between residential and downtown Evelynton.

  I waved at the aggravated man at the wheel. “Sorry, Clive. I’ll pay more attention.” Grumpy seemed to be Clive Barron’s natural mood. It occurred to me to be grateful he’d decided to apply the brakes. I trotted to the opposite curb, and he drove away without further comment.

  Paying careful attention to speeding cars and other pitfalls, I continued into town, and got to within two blocks of The Rare Curl when I heard the commotion. At first, heated voices mingled with morning traffic sounds. The words were unclear, but they flew from the alley beside the drugstore. As I drew nearer, shouts rang out louder and a few expressions were recognizable. An angry debate.

  I told myself to keep walking. Whatever the reason for the argument—not my concern. But never being good at minding my own business, I skidded to a stop and inched toward the entrance to stare into the dimly lit lane. As my eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, two people materialized at the back of the alley, engaged in animated conversation. At my first glance I thought, Ellen Felicity. My eyes were deceiving me. The dead end lane, with its grime and garbage cans, wasn’t a place Miss Perfect would hang out. But who else stood that tall and pencil thin, and wore a bob haircut?

  I couldn’t tear myself away from the sparring. Had the man forced the woman between the buildings? Was she in danger? He could have out-weighed her by a hundred pounds.

  In one pivot and wild swing of her arms, a beam of sunlight reflected on her hair. Blond. So pale it practically glowed. Definitely Ellen Felicity, and as a coworker, I was duty bound to assist her.

  I crept further into the alley, planning an attack. I scanned the area for a weapon, but finding none, would rely on a surprise move. The minute the man touched her, I’d storm in and tackle him. He was really big, but between the two of us, Ellen and I would be able to fight him off, I hoped.

  In an unexpected move, Ellen put her shoulders back and planted her hands on her hips. The simple gesture silenced the man. His shoulders slumped and he backed away.

  She spun on her heal and began to stalk from the alley, aimed right at me. Yikes. Fortunately for me, her eyes were on the ground, so I scampered a retreat and hit the sidewalk running. What explanation would I have for spying on Ellen Felicity? Nothing she would believe.

  Once inside The Rare Curl I threw my bag into a cabinet and slid into the desk chair. Ellen would arrive at any minute, so I did some deep breathing and thought sweet thoughts. I hoped to appear settled, as if I’d been there for hours.

  About two minutes later, Ellen stormed in and marched to her styling station. She ignored my practiced greeting. Nothing new there. Instead
, she proceeded to pull open drawers and slam brushes onto the counter.

  Dying to know the story of the guy in the alley, I could barely contain myself. As a distraction, I bit my tongue and counted customers on the appointment book. I whispered into the book, “Her business, not mine. What happened in the alley stays in the alley.”

  No one ever said I had great self-control. Words sometimes popped out of my mouth of their own accord. “Is everything alright, Ellen?”

  She jerked her head toward me as if surprised to see me in the room. Her eyes widened and focused. “Of course. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Oh no reason. I thought you seemed a little distracted. Might have had a problem on the way in to work. Car trouble? Or were you hassled by someone? A mugger?”

  “No.” She tipped her head to the side and blew out a sigh. “What are you talking about?” The woman thought I’d lost my mind. She picked up a hairbrush and studied it for stray hairs.

  I chuckled. “How silly of me. I saw you walk in, and car trouble popped into my head. I don’t even know what you drive or if you even have a car. You might walk to work. Do you?”

  Ellen let out another sigh as she wrenched her head toward me. “No I don’t walk to work. I drive.” She took two cans of hairspray from the shelf and arranged them on her styling station.

  “Oh. Has anyone ever hassled you between your parking place and the salon? You never know who might be out there.”

  Lord, help me stop babbling.

  Ellen’s silver blond locks fanned out as she spun toward me. She stared as if I’d sprouted antlers. Apparently she decided the feeble-minded receptionist didn’t warrant a response. Her lips formed a tight line while she grabbed a towel to dust her work station.

  I thought I might ask again. Having already come across as a complete idiot, what did I have to lose? But thankfully, Rarity chose that moment to bounce out of the supply room. “Good morning ladies. This is the day the Lord has made! The sun is shining and our appointment books are full. We are all healthy and happy. God is good.”

  That ended my poor attempt at investigation. I’d wait, and think of another angle.

  Later, after cashing out a customer, I saw my chance. Ellen wielded a broom around the base of her styling chair. Rarity stood in the waiting room, conducting an inventory of items on the retail shelf. I swiveled my chair to face Ellen.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you earlier. Really didn’t mean to pry. You seemed to be upset when you came in. I thought you’d possibly had some sort of confrontation.”

  The look on Ellen’s face caused me to rethink my plan. In fact, I thought I might excuse myself and dash to the ladies room.

  Saved by the ringing of the telephone. “Oops, better get that.” I spun around, grabbed the receiver, hunched my shoulders against attack, and concentrated on the appointment book.

  After finishing with the caller, I peeked over my shoulder. Ellen worked on a comb-out and seemed to be over-heated or maybe she’d applied too much blush. Our normally ice cold and self-possessed hairdresser dropped her comb twice and fumbled the hair spray. After sending her customer to me, Ellen stomped to the ladies room. Her signature model-strut, noticeably absent.

  When she returned, she seemed to have pulled herself together, but stopped to speak to Rarity. “I have no more appointments scheduled, and will be taking the rest of the day off.”

  “Of course dear, are you unwell?”

  “You are so perceptive, Mrs. Peabody. I’m not feeling at all well. I suppose I’ve contracted a virus. A rest will be good for me.” She scooped all of her combs and brushes into a drawer, slid it shut, with more force than necessary, and marched toward the exit.

  I felt the breeze as she passed. “Good-bye. Hope you feel better.” Was the man in the alley the cause of the sudden virus, or was I?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  E llen’s encounter in the alley was still fresh in my mind on my way to Ava’s Java, the next morning. I slipped past the drugstore alley with only a quick peak. Nothing happening among the garbage cans. Not that I expected it be a regular meeting place for Ellen and her friend.

  At Ava’s my thoughts soon turned to the scent of bacon. The early morning crowd sat munching on gourmet breakfast sandwiches.

  I shook my head as I stepped up to our usual table, where Clair and Anita were already into their first cup of coffee. “I don’t understand how you two always get here ahead of me.”

  “I’m here early because those dogs woke up at five a.m. but I think Clair lives here. The Java is her second office. I’m wondering when Ava will start charging her rent.”

  I hung my handbag over the back of the chair reserved for me. “What are you girls having this morning?”

  Anita smiled. “I ordered bacon, scrambled egg, and white cheddar on Ciabatta. Sounds wonderful doesn’t it? I love it when someone else cooks breakfast. It makes me feel like I’m on vacation.”

  Clair put a hand on her stomach and shook her head. “Fruit and Greek yogurt for me. Been putting on a little weight.”

  I grabbed my credit card and trotted to the counter to search the menu, but was too distracted to make a decision. “Just give me what Anita’s having.” Ava handed me my coffee and I hustled to the table.

  I broke into my friends’ conversation. “Wait ‘til I tell you what I saw on the way to work yesterday. You remember the new hairdresser at Rarity’s? Dresses and struts around like a model? Ellen Felicity.”

  Anita nodded. “Sure.”

  “I saw her yesterday morning, and she was in the last place you’d expect. You’ll never guess.”

  Neither of them offered a guess, and I couldn’t wait to get on with my story. “I’ll tell you. It was that dirty old alley beside the hardware store. And she was having a row with some big, scruffy-looking man. He was the kind of guy she would never be seen with, so I was afraid she was in trouble. Maybe he’d attacked her and dragged her back there. I thought I was going to have to run in and help her.”

  Anita gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Clair asked, “What happened?”

  “I should have known. The woman was mad but not afraid. When she took charge of the situation, I got out of there, quick. Didn’t want her to see me.”

  A young waitress arrived with a tray holding Clair and Anita’s breakfast and a pot of fresh coffee. Anita began helping to unload it. “Thanks Melody. How’s school going?”

  “It’s going great, Mrs. Corbin. Only a few months and I’ll be finished. Can’t wait until I can get a hairdressing job. Mrs. Peabody said she’d find a place for me at The Rare Curl.”

  “You’ll be a nice addition to the salon.”

  “Your breakfast will be right up Mrs. Halloren.”

  Melody returned to the kitchen. “Sweet girl. I hope there’s a spot for her when she graduates. I don’t suppose I can expect Rarity to give her Ellen Felicity’s job.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that wasn’t nice. I was going to try to change my attitude toward her.”

  Anita sipped her coffee. “I wonder who Ellen was with in the alley. There are plenty of scruffy men in town. None of whom I’d connect with her.”

  “What was she doing? That isn’t a place people normally conduct business. At least, not legal business.” Clair stirred fruit into her yogurt. “With the outfits she wears, I sure wouldn’t walk back there without good reason.”

  “Is she married?” Anita spoke through a bite of her sandwich.

  The question stumped me. “I don’t know. Working in the salon, I should know all about her. I sure hear all the details of Stacy and Rarity’s lives. Ellen’s never mentioned a husband or anything about her private life. Guess I thought she didn’t have one.”

  Clair pointed her spoon at me. “So, what did she say when you asked her why she was in the alley?”

  I shook my head and stared at my friend while Melody placed my breakfast on the table. “I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

/>   I held the egg and white cheddar cheese sandwich an inch from my mouth, the aroma causing my stomach to rumble. My friends held my eyes, waiting for an answer. With a sigh, I put my breakfast back on the plate. “The woman intimidates me. She never offers information and doesn’t seem to enjoy talking. At least, not to me. I think she might confide in Rarity sometimes, in private.”

  I managed a bite of my sandwich and swallowed. “I did try to get information in a round-about way. I guess I never came right out and asked her.”

  Anita giggled. “You are such a noodle. I would have said something like, ‘What on earth were you doing in that dirty old alley?’ or ‘Who was that guy you were with in the shadows? Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?’”

  “No. I don’t think I could have asked that. Whenever I have a conversation with Ellen, I leave it feeling like an idiot.”

  After another bite of sandwich, I thought I’d redeem myself. “I did ask if anything was wrong because she seemed upset. I said something about wondering if she’d been mugged.”

  Clair and Anita stopped eating to gaze at me.

  Clair laughed. “That was dumb.”

  “And you wonder why I’m not a crime writer. With such interrogation skills. Anyway, I didn’t want Ellen to think I was spying on her.”

  Anita dabbed her chin with a napkin. “Because you were.”

  “No. I happened to see her. Then, yes, I spied on her. In my defense, at first I thought she was in trouble and might need assistance. But when it was obvious she could take care of herself, I ran.

  “Anyway, I had no luck in getting information from her. Ellen had the same reaction as the two of you. ‘What’s wrong with the feeble-mined receptionist?’”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I walked through a quiet Rare Curl, picking up magazines and coffee cups left out the evening before. Stacy must have had a late night. Neither Stacy nor Rarity was due in until noon, the end of my shift. Ellen had taken the day off, an unusual occurrence for her. Four hours to myself, and all I had to do was answer the phone and browse a fashion magazine. The silence should have been peaceful but a vague foreboding had settled around me.