The kid chuckled and slammed the door shut, leaving me in complete darkness on the stairway.
“Nothing,” a woman’s voice sounded from behind me. “It was just the door. One of the maids must have come in and closed it.” She waited for a beat. “It doesn’t matter. There’s another one down here. The one that leads to the boiler room. I’ll just take it.”
Another beat passed, and she said, “I know that. Don’t you think I know that? This is hard for me, too.”
She was on the phone, but why had Charlie led me here? Why was it important for me to hear one side of this conversation?
“Don’t be like that,” the female voice said. “If anyone should be angry about this, it’s me.” Another few seconds of silence, and then, “Because I know why it’s necessary. Do you really want to be the reason all of this doesn’t work out?” More silence, and then, “I didn’t think so. Just listen to me. In five hours, all of this will be over, and things can go back to normal. All we have to do is make it until then. At least you’re not the one who has to wear that ugly dress. It should come with a bag to put over your head so that the person wearing it doesn’t have to actually see it.” She paused again. “I love you, too. Now just be strong. I’ll see you out there.”
I heard a click, and then a sliver of light and a rush of heat told me the woman had opened the door to the boiler room.
I took the opportunity (and light) to move back up the stairs and get out of the room.
Closing the door back behind me, I quirked my mouth to the side.
4
I moved back out into the common area, trying very hard not to think about what I knew I needed to think about.
This couldn’t be happening again? Not so soon. I had just solved a series of murders. I had just sent one of my best friends in the whole world to jail for his role in facilitating them.
Angela hadn’t even given birth to Harvey’s kid yet. There was no way it was starting all over again.
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head as I darted through the back halls toward the kitchen trying to steer clear of Niles and his snooty brethren. “Nothing’s happened,” I told myself. “No murder. No crime. No nothing….or…or has it?”
It was a comforting thought. After all, it wasn't like I could go investigating all the peace and quiet that had been going on lately.
Suddenly, a thought pulled at me from the back of my head.
This was how it started last time, with Charlie guiding me to what turned out to be the mystery of my life.
Wouldn’t it save everyone a lot of time if he just told me who did it? Still, in the deepest parts of me, I had to admit the idea of another mystery wasn’t the worst thing I had ever heard.
I pushed back into the kitchen, realizing I had forgotten the eggs. They were probably sitting splattered along the stairwell, right above where that mystery woman had stood talking on the phone.
“Where’d you go?” Peggy asked, catching sight of me. She seemed a little annoyed, which went with her personality just fine. She had always been a nice person, but when it came to work, she could be a bit of a stickler. Leaving my station wouldn’t sit well with her, even if I was just trying to save our good name.
There didn’t seem to be any need to go into that right now. It was a longer and more convoluted story than I cared to recite right now and-truth be told- I couldn’t give her all the pieces she needed, anyway.
So instead, I said, “I wasn’t feeling well. Sorry for bolting like that.”
Peggy’s eyes filled with concern, which I absolutely knew was going to happen. Stickler or not, Peggy was a soft touch.
“Oh no,” she said from the top of her step ladder. She was building a quickly growing pyramid of red velvet cupcakes that, since I had been gone, grew to three stacks high. She was beginning on the fourth stack when she asked, “Do you need to take a minute?”
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Have you ever heard of Nuclear Code?” she asked, her brows raised at me.
I had, of course, but it was something Peggy made up herself, and this Rita had no business knowing it. Since I had already put my foot in my mouth regarding the whole Hamlet thing, I shook my head and said, “Tell me.”
“If you throw up in this kitchen, I’m going to have to toss all of this food. That’s Nuclear Code. So, while I admire your work ethic and I totally expect you to suck it up and get back in here as soon as possible, I’m going to need you to take a little bit of a break before the smell of all this cream cheese forces breakfast to make a comeback.”
“Um, whatever you say,” I answered, shrugging and grabbing my purse. “I’ll be right outside whenever you need me.”
“Sure thing,” Peggy answered, circling a frosting bag over one of the cupcakes and forming a perfect white dome of deliciousness. “While you’re out there, look at the lake in the southeast corner of the property. It’s where Priscilla tossed Chloe in the water that time she thought she’d worn the same dress as her to an event on purpose.”
I narrowed my brows in confusion.
Peggy shook her head, focusing on the frosting. “Chloe knew she’d look better in it.”
Walking outside, I decided to take Peggy’s advice and check out the lake. It wasn’t that I was particularly interested in the exact spot where two Southern idiots came to blows over ‘who wore it best.' It’s just, when I made my way outside, I found a flurry of ‘Niles-like’ workers bouncing about in formal wear with scowls on their faces and ‘I’m better than you’ looks in their eyes.
Not wishing a repeat of what happened earlier, I dashed southeast, slowing down only when the lake came into view.
I had never been much of a runner in my old life. I hated the sweat and the shortness of breath. However, this body was made for running. Something about the way these legs moved, pushing naturally off the ground, felt right. It was almost elegant, which was enough to make me chuckle, given that almost nothing I did in my old body could be described as elegant.
When I saw the lake, it became clear to me that no place on this ridiculous property would be free of people.
Daniel stood there, fully dressed for the wedding, staring at the water with his back toward me.
A woman was walking away from him. She had sky-high blonde hair and tanned skin. I would have thought she was the bride if not for what she was wearing; a skintight short blue dress with rhinestones surrounding a diamond shaped cutout hovering over her chest and platform heels.
Reality television show or not, no bride would be caught dead in something like that.
“What are you looking at?” The blonde woman scowled as she caught sight of me. “Get back to work!”
I bristled as she passed but didn’t give her much more thought as I made my way to Daniel.
“How’s it going?” I asked, settling beside him.
Daniel turned to me. I hadn’t seen him since the day of the accident, the day he arranged to get Peggy and me this job. It surprised me to see his face clean shaven, free of the scruffy half-beard that covered it before. In its place, a fresh scratch ran the length of his cheek.
“You okay?” I asked, motioning to his face.
“Fine,” he answered weakly. “I cut myself shaving.”
“And you just kept going?” I asked, noticing the sheer length of the cut. It was thin and certainly not a nick. That was strange.
“It’s been a weird day,” he sighed, giving me a half-smile.
“In my experience, wedding days usually are,” I answered. “Not that my experience has been personal,” I added, my heart twinging with familiar hurt. “Never actually been married myself.”
Even if I did get really close.
“You’re lucky,” he said in a low voice.
“Don’t say that,” I answered.
Daniel looked at me. His eyes got wide, wider than they had been right after the accident even.
“That’s not what I meant,” he sa
id, lifting his hands up in front of him. “Really, it’s not. Chloe’s the best. She’s an amazing person and a kind woman. I’m very lucky to be the man she’s chosen.”
My mouth quirked to the side.
“How many times have you said that?” I asked, noticing the rehearsed nature of his words.
“Not nearly enough, apparently,” he answered, shaking his head. “Is it obvious?”
“It’s obviously magazine speak,” I said, sitting on the ground alongside the lake.
Peggy was right. This was really beautiful.
“There’s a reason I have to say those things to magazines,” he said, sitting beside me. “If they got ahold of anything candid, even if it was just normal talking, they’d twist it.” He looked at me deeply. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“Daniel,” I said, setting my jaw. “I have absolutely no interest in what magazines have to say or in reality television at all, for that matter. Whatever you say to me stays between us.”
“I probably shouldn’t believe you,” he said, smiling a little. “But, for some reason, I do.”
“I guess I have one of those faces now,” I answered. A strange thought sprung up at the back of my mind. What if the face I had been given was shaped for just this reason? What if my new persona was a custom built trust machine?
“Now?” he asked.
“Well, let’s just say this isn’t the face I was born with.”
“Neither is Chloe’s,” he chuckled. His hand slapped against his mouth. “Oh! When am I going to learn to shut up?”
“Seriously,” I patted his shoulder. “It’s all between us.” I leaned in closer. “This isn’t really your thing, is it?”
Daniel looked me over, weighing something between his eyes. “Love will make you do crazy things. It’ll turn you into somebody you didn’t used to be.”
“Tell me about it,” I answered. Patting his shoulder again, I said, “Love or not, this day should be about you, too. At least a little.”
“Oh, it will be,” he answered, shaking his head. “It will be.”
I marched back to the country club after giving Daniel my well wishes. I didn’t know much about Chloe but, after speaking to her betrothed for a second time, it occurred to me that there must be something special about her to win a guy like that.
As I pushed through the door, my heart leapt into my throat.
The kitchen, which had been completely empty save for Peggy when I left, was now filled with people.
An older man with salt and pepper hair screamed, pounding his fist against the counter.
“I said no!” he roared.
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable, Sir,” a male voice said from the crowd.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I heard that voice. Not because of what it said, but because I recognized it.
Darrin was here.
I circled around until I could see him through the people. He was up in the older guy’s face, his jaw set the way it always did whenever he was determined and was sure he was right.
“What’s going on?” I asked, turning to Peggy.
“See the letter in Mr. Covington’s hand?” Peggy asked, motioning to the older guy.
I peered forward. There was indeed a letter in his hand.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“It’s a ransom note,” Peggy answered flatly.
“What?!” I balked. “A ransom not for who?”
Tears filled Peggy’s eyes as she answered. “For Chloe Covington, Rita. Somebody’s kidnapped the bride.”
5
My heart fell with a thud, and I instantly felt responsible. Was this happening because of me, because I was here and-as Charlie put it- I had unfinished work to do?
Maybe, had I not ran head on into Daniel’s SUV, his bride to be would still be here; fuming over insignificant details and acting as self-involved as any good bride would on her big day.
Maybe I was the trouble.
I knew better than that though. My hands weren’t the ones that kidnapped Chloe Covington. But they very likely could be the ones to find her.
This wasn’t happening because I was here. I was here because this was happening. I had been guided to this place by the same force that guided me to find Angela and bring her and Harvey to justice, by the same force that brought me back after two years in the land of the dead.
Was it also the same force that allowed me to be shoved down the stairs in the first place?
I shook my head. These questions wouldn’t help me, and they certainly wouldn’t help Chloe.
“Who’s Darrin arguing with?” I asked Peggy, keeping my eyes trained on Darrin’s face, twisted in anger.
“That’s Francis Covington, Chloe’s dad,” Peggy answered.
“Someone, get this man out of here,” Francis screamed, looking around for help.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. Covington,” Darrin answered. He was plainly dressed in a blue collared shirt and khakis but, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his badge. “I have a duty here.”
Francis balked. “Do you think that holds any weight here?”
“This holds weight everywhere, sir,” Darrin answered, his nostrils flaring. “This badge represents an authority that I’ve been entrusted with by the people of my town to keep them safe and their homes peaceful. You’d do well to recognize it.”
“You’re not in your town anymore, Sheriff,” Francis sneered. “And I’ll have you hauled away before I let you make a mockery of my daughter and her name.”
“What on earth are they arguing about?” I asked, nudging Peggy.
“Darrin wants to call the police,” she answered flatly. “Apparently he doesn’t have jurisdiction in this county. He was just here to keep Aiden company.”
“And that’s a problem because…?” I asked.
“Sir, I’m afraid I’m not giving you a choice,” Darrin said, badge still in hand. “Evacuating this place, getting it taped up, and calling in backup as well as some detectives to comb the crime scene is in your daughter’s best interest. Now I understand that you’ve been through a horrible ordeal and that you have a few extenuating circumstances, but the victim’s best interest is where my loyalty has to lie.”
“Call her ‘the victim’ one more time, and I will take your head off, young man!” Francis said. Suddenly, he turned and shouted, “Russell! Russell, get over here!”
“Sir, if you would just-” Darrin reached for Francis’ shoulder.
“Get your hands off of me,” he shouted, jerking away. “I’m about to put you in your place!”
A middle-aged man who was pudgy, but not overweight, came trudging through the crowd. He wore a fancy tux with rust colored tie and cummerbund and was stuffing his face with one of those mini subs that always look so delicious.
“What’s happening, Frankie?” he asked through a mouthful of bread, meat, and cheese.
Francis turned back to Darrin. “Meet the real sheriff, Son.” He wrapped his hand around the pudgy man, who had just polished off the last of his sandwich. “This is Sheriff Russell Black. He’s the law here in Harbor Heights.”
Russell swallowed, looking from Darrin, to Francis, and back again. “What’s the issue?” His voice took on a more formal tone, but I couldn’t help but still see pastrami.
“Sheriff Black, I’m Darrin Dash, the Sheriff of Second Springs,” Darrin said, extending his hand to shake.
“Second Springs?” Sheriff Black mused, taking his hand and giving it a hearty shake. “That shoebox of a town? It’s two counties away. What in the great, wide world are you doing here?”
“I’m here to deliver supplies to the dessert caterers, but that’s beside the point,” Darrin said, finally putting his badge back in his pocket. “There’s been a crime here.”
“A crime?” Sheriff Black replied, looking over at Francis. “Here at the country club? That doesn’t seem very likely to me.”
“Likely or not, it’s hap
pened,” Darrin answered, motioning to the letter in Francis’ hand. “The proof’s right there.”
“This doesn’t prove anything,” Francis answered, holding the letter up in the air.
From that angle, I could see a big portion of it. Written out in cut-out magazine letters, I saw the words ‘TAKEN,' ‘EVER,' and ‘SEE’ as well as the number 5. This was certainly a ransom not, albeit a rather cliché and unoriginal one. Still, it seemed to get the point across.
“This is a hoax, one of Chloe’s little outbursts.” Francis shook his head. “She’s always been something of an attention seeker. The television show has only exacerbated that. She’s just looking for the spotlight.”
“The spotlight?” I balked, stepping forward. “It’s her wedding day, and she’s famous. The spotlight couldn’t be any brighter if she was on Broadway.”
Darrin’s head shot over toward me. His eyes grew wide, taking me in, but then regained a bit of composure. “Let me handle this,” he said flatly before turning back to Francis.
“By all means,” Chloe’s father started. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight unless I know what the rest of kitchen staff thinks on the matter.”
“Mr. Covington,” Darrin started. “I suppose I get your apprehension, but it’s misplaced here. When I accidentally stumbled into your daughter’s room, what I saw was a crime scene. The broken window, the signs of struggle; I’ve been around enough of them to recognize one. You need to understand-”
“No, you need to understand!” Francis shot back. “My daughter does this! She has her entire life. If we ignore it, she’ll come back, she’ll pretend it never happened, and we can get on with this wedding. But if we feed it, if we allow ourselves to give in to this drama she’s cooked up in her head, then she’ll let it get bigger and bigger until finally, it spirals out of control.” He shook his head and turned to Sheriff Black. “I know my daughter, Russell, and the last thing I need is a bunch of cameramen showing up and branding my Chloe as the next infamous missing starlet. I just can’t have that.”
Twice Layered Murder Page 3