Once Upon a Murder

by Kodi Heart

  Probably because part of me worried he wasn't.

  I gulped, lifting my bag up to waist level. I thrust my hand inside and dug around, as if my phone would suddenly materialize after all that time. Hadn't found it at the restaurant, hadn’t found it in my car, what made me think it would suddenly be there?

  911. I just needed to call 911. I needed to call the cops. I needed to call for help. 911. 911. That's all I needed to do. Where was a stupid phone?

  The melodic tones of my ringing startled me. I dropped my bag to the ground and backed away from the scene.

  The long rectangular body of my phone, stuck out from under David’s hip. Light from the screen grew as someone’s call became more insistent. How had my phone gotten there?

  And like the universe was against me, I had to go pick up the phone from under his dead body.

  The universe didn't want me to be free from David.

  Or it did, but in a really gruesome way?

  I edged closer, as close as I could for a moment, and then I had to stop and take a deep breath. The dark closed around me, even the normally reflective lake had disappeared under the clouds of the storm.

  I had no way to call for help, except for touching David's body to get my phone. Did I have what it took? Could I get closer?

  It was as if the clouds sensed my tension and they released the rain from their swollen shapes. The sudden thundering rain on the metal roof of the wood shed reverberated through the static under the covered porch.

  I needed to get help. If not for me, then for David. Even if he wasn't dead, even if he was the biggest jerk I’d ever met, he didn't deserve that. No one deserved to just lie there like that. With a tacky pair of heels next to him.

  The blood on the porch didn’t spread out very far. I dropped to my knees and stared at David’s face, then cast a hurried glance around the rain-pelted darkness. How odd to be isolated in a pool of light with a dead body and red scissors.

  Don’t focus on the body.

  I crawled my hands forward, finger-lengths at a time, until I was just barely inching forward, keeping the weight of my body on my knees and twisted into some weird yoga move.

  The very tip of my index finger grazed the rubber edge of my phone case. I scrunched my nose as I picked at it to get a hold. I closed my eyes and lowered my head as I stretched enough to pinch the phone between my thumb and forefinger. I snapped my eyes open when I felt its weight slip from under him.

  Yanking the phone back as fast as possible, I crab-walked to the safety around the corner of the house and heaved a gasping breath.

  David hadn’t moved, so my guess was that he really had obtained the afterlife.

  Lifting my phone, I noticed I had missed a call from Kami, Robyn, and a few text messages from David. They would have to wait. I needed to make that call.

  911. 911. I rested my free hand over my eyes to block out the site of David’s work boots in my line of sight.

  “911 operator. What's your emergency?” The woman picked up, bored because let’s face it, nothing happened in north Idaho unless it had to do with someone poaching on their neighbor’s property.

  I glanced at David, what was my emergency? Would I be questioned for the murder? There was nothing else that this could be, if I was questioned, good. That would be more information for them to find the real killer.

  Gulping, I worked up the nerve to push out syllables I hoped made sense. “My name is Olivia Andrew. I live out at Twin Lakes. I just found a body. At my house.” How much more would they ask of me?

  Did they need to know how badly I wanted him dead?

  Chapter 3

  The rain didn’t let up and the air cooled significantly. I couldn't stay on the back porch alone, not in the dark with rain attacking everything it could around me. I usually sought out isolation. That wasn’t what that was, though.

  Gathering my bag and the stack of post-its and pens that had fallen out, I glanced once more at David over my shoulder before I scrambled from the porch to the car.

  Stormy cut in front of me, and I stooped to pulled her into my arms, and then thought better of it. She’d never let me hold her, not while she was spooked. She didn’t let me on the best of circumstances and had barely tolerated my mom’s touch when my mom had forced it.

  In the car, I locked the doors and folded my arms over my waist. Staring into the dark that hid my house and the atrocity in the back, I couldn’t even blink. What if... what if the killer was out there? Waiting for the rain to fade so they could come and do the same thing to me?

  The yellowish-green of Stormy’s eyes flashed at me from the corner of the garage where she was protected from the strength of the storm.

  How would I ever be able to tell my mom in the next life that somebody had died at her house? Dad was going to flip a lid, if blood stained the deck wood.

  My internal jokes didn’t matter. I couldn’t make myself feel better. My jokes sucked. My breathing sped up, and I leaned forward, bracing my forehead on the soft vinyl of my steering wheel.

  Nothing was working. I couldn’t claim to be calm or under control.

  When would someone show up? Usually the nearest police officer was about twenty minutes away, give or take, unless they were busy. The operator had said to expect twenty to thirty.

  I glanced at the glowing green clock on my dash. I’d called two minutes before.

  Two? Why did it feel like I’d called nine days ago?

  Another minute passed and headlights pulled up behind me. The height of the rig put the lights square in my rearview mirror, blinding me. I turned, trying to see past the sun-like orbs obscuring anything I would be able to identify on the truck.

  It could be a pizza delivery car or the killer, for all I knew.

  Whipping back to face my door, I clicked the automatic locks a couple times to make sure they were engaged. My wet hair whipped me in the face as I turned.

  What was I going to do? What if the killer had returned?

  They had come to my house. Were they there to kill me? That's the only thing that made sense. Logically, nothing else fit. Who would want to kill David or had even known he would be there?

  Other than me. I mean that much was obvious. But I had already joked about it. I didn't have the gumption to kill anyone. I wasn't even a mystery writer for that exact reason.

  I was so confused. I didn't know what was going on. Quite honestly, I just wanted to go inside and take a nap. Then, I wanted to wake up and find everything else was back to the way it should be, and I was trying to get rid of David the normal ways – you know, with a restraining order.

  No way would the cops have gotten out there that fast. Why hadn't I started carrying a gun in the car like my dad had told me to? I was smarter than how I was behaving. I knew better.

  Dang it, I never wanted to be one of the heroines of the book that was too stupid to live. I could hear my eulogy now, spoken by Robyn in a black Batman cape. She’d probably use a gravelly impersonation of Christian Bale. Knowing her, she’d also forget she was channeling Bale and switch to Christopher Walken. The first line of her Ode to Olivia would be, “Here lies Olivia, too stupid to live. Just like a character in one of her first unpublished novels.”

  I clenched my teeth at the thought. She would do a terrific Walken, though.

  The rapping of knuckles on my window made me gasp. I half-sobbed, with my eyes squeezed shut. I was so pathetic. If nothing else, at least I hadn’t peed my pants.

  Yet.

  I looked out the window, almost hoping to see the killer, so I would be justified in my fear.

  And there he was, the killer.

  Of course, not the killer. That would be too easy, less complicated.

  Faced with the man outside, I suddenly really, really wanted it to be the killer.

  Grant. If it could’ve been anyone at the most inopportune time, of course, it would be Grant.

  My window let me crack it just enough I could speak out the slit. I ignored the way
the water dripped of the solid lines of his jaw. I’d touched that jaw before, traced it, watched it clench when I ran my fingers through his hair. I forced a smile.

  “Hey, Grant. How are you? Whatcha doin’ out here?” I blinked several times, like I was the picture of innocence. If I widened my smile, maybe he wouldn’t ask why I was sitting out in my car... in a rain storm... so late at night.

  He arched an eyebrow, water dripping off his chin and nose. He wasn’t even bothered by the water. “You just called 911. I heard it on my scanner. What's going on? They said a possible homicide?” Grant glanced around, like he wasn’t standing in the middle of the forest with chilly water clamoring to get through his clothes down to his skin.

  I furrowed my brow. Rolling the window down even more, I pointed at him. “No way did you get out here that fast. There's no way. Even if you were at Robyn's house, it would take you ten minutes to get here. That was, what, three minutes? What aren’t you telling me?” How had he done that? Or... maybe he’d already been here and was biding his time after killing David...

  I looked up at him, my eyes narrowed.

  Grant reached up and sluiced the water from his hair, the strong muscles of his neck clenching and bunching as he moved. “Why don't you come out with me, so I don't have to stand here in the rain?”

  “Where else would you stand?” Suspicion held my hand. I couldn’t let him in, and I couldn’t get out. Not until I was sure he hadn’t killed David. Although, it was Grant. He’d never hurt me. I could see him hurting David for me, but not me.

  He sighed and shook his hair. The man was infuriatingly lucky and had a full head of hair that most men would kill for. “Come on, Livvie. Don’t make me stand out here. Show me what you think is a dead body, so I can call it in. Did you see a dead deer or something?”

  Spluttering, I unlocked my door and snarled when I climbed out. “Dead deer? I’ve hunted, thank you very much. Come on. I’ll show you.” I glanced around for Stormy to be my fellow witness. If nothing else, my cat should’ve been able to support me or save me. Why was I all alone?

  I slid from the car, clinging to my bravado. I couldn’t let my fear stop me from showing Grant that I wasn't afraid. Ignoring how broad his shoulders were and how his waist tapered down to his jeans as the rain forced his clothing to cling to his body, I reached back inside the car and grabbed my bag.

  No, I had to stop focusing on my attraction to him. I was the one that broke things off with him. I couldn't lead him on. He was my best-friend’s brother. Some things just wouldn't work. Plus, we’d already tried and second chances weren’t in my cards.

  I swallowed, ignoring the rain on my face and hair. Motioning towards the deck, I tried to keep my voice nonchalant. I was failing at everything else, I’m not sure if I succeeded. “David's here. But he's...”

  We walked slowly to the deck and climbed the stairs. Grant knew his way around the place and he moved ahead of me before turning back to check why I had stopped. Underneath the covering was as far as I wanted to go.

  Grant was there. He would see it. He was a cop. He could take over, and I wasn’t really needed. My reality would finally be someone else’s. I didn't want the scene to be real. Not because of David which made me insensitive, but there was a dead body on my back porch. Someone I'd known.

  I had a hard time coming to terms with that.

  Grant watched me, waiting for the great reveal with more patience than I deserved. “It’s okay, take your time. What’s going on?”

  Swallowing, I shook my head and closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to my eyes. “I don’t want it to be real.”

  “It’s okay, start slow.” He moved to my side and waited, not huffing or asking like he was wasting time.

  I nodded and the turned my head to peer into his eyes. My voice decided I was ready before I did. “David is dead.” My words broke on a sob, but not out of sadness, more out of relief that Grant was there and I could tell someone safe.

  He stepped away from me, his hands going out to his sides. He pierced me with his gaze and spoke slowly. “What? I need you to be really clear about what you’re talking about.”

  I faced him full on. Thrusting my finger toward the wood grains of the deck, I furiously blinked my tears away. “No, really, tell me why you got here so fast. What's going on? Is Robyn okay?” Why else would he be headed to my place? I hadn’t answered my phone because it was stuck under David.

  He reached up and tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear. “Robyn’s fine. She told me what happened last week. I’ve been undercover, so when I called to check in tonight and she told me...” Pity in his eyes filled me with shame. His tone softened. “Why didn't you tell me? I had to come and make sure you're okay. I was on my way here when I heard dispatch ask for assistance.”

  Robyn had told him. I wasn't sure what her game was, but we had agreed we wouldn't tell anybody, least of all Grant or my aunts. No one needed to know. I was a little hurt she had said something, but I would let her explain herself before jumping to conclusions.

  Grant glanced around the deck, lit up with the headlights from our running cars. “David’s dead here? Sounds like someone beat me to it.” But his teasing tone made it clear he didn’t believe me.

  “You wouldn’t do that. You’re a good cop, not... one that’s not.” I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it. My lack of retort combined with the thought that Grant would stick up for me like that did more to lift my spirits than anything else.

  We couldn’t be together, that much was obvious, but... the fact that he cared enough to joke about killing someone who had hurt me was just macabre enough I had to laugh. He was trying to make me laugh.

  His laugh was so inappropriate for the moment that I finally let myself giggle. Nervous giggle like the kind you try to swallow down at your grandma’s funeral. The kind that makes you wish you had a reason to hard laugh for real.

  “I'm a cop. What do you mean ‘one that’s not’?” A smile dissuaded the confusion on his face, but not all of it.

  “You know, look at Paul Davis.” Paul Davis. He was what we liked to call the local idiot cop, the one that believed he was Chuck Norris, but somehow ended up being more like the Mall Cop.

  “Well, Paul’s a special kind of cop. They sell those in boxes at the movie theatre.” He glanced around, stepping to the edge of the deck and staring as far out into the wet black that he could. “How did David get out here? Did you see another car anywhere?” He ambled toward the back porch, taking the initiative, which I was grateful for.

  I didn't want to deal with the body again, at least not first. Maybe I’d been slipped a hallucinogen in my clam chowder. I could only wish so hard and it still wouldn’t be true. I trailed my fingers along the grains of the vinyl siding, wishing we could go slower.

  All too soon, we reached the edge of my home, and he slowed down, putting a hand out to have me stop. Looking back, he cocked his head. “Did you touch anything?”

  I swallowed, answering with a squeaky voice while avoiding looking anywhere near where David had been. “I might have gotten my phone out from underneath his hip.” I widened my eyes. I needed my phone. Was I going to get in trouble? “Is that bad? I had to get my phone to call for help.” I pointed toward the body without actually seeing it.

  Grant glanced at me, his eyes definitely agreeing that was bad. He shook his head, sighing. “Yeah, that's pretty bad. You could at least watch one or two of the Law and Order shows. You’d learn a few things, even if they’re not completely accurate. You need to educate yourself, sweetheart.” He looked away before he saw how his words tripped me up.

  I thrust my jaw to the side, frustrated and becoming emotional. “What did you expect me to do? I needed my phone.” It was like one of those catch-22’s where you need the job, but you won’t get it because you don’t have a job.

  Stormy still hadn’t returned to the scene. I needed to see her, even if only to make sure she was still okay. She’d never been a fan of th
e thunder and lightning.

  Bracing his arm on the wall above me, he half turned to me, his question strong with misgiving. “How did the phone get under his hip, Olivia?”

  He could’ve screamed did you do this? And it wouldn’t have been clearer what he thought.

  I stumbled backwards until my rear end crashed into the porch post I’d always hated. I couldn’t be more offended which, of course, I hid. He didn’t need to know he’d hurt me. “I get why you said that, and yet, I don't. Why would I do this and then call 911? That doesn't make sense. Nor is it consistent with my character arc.”

  Grant stepped close to me, grabbing my upper arms with his hands. He bent his head to peer into my eyes. His gravelly voice sent shivers down my spine. “This is not the time to joke. This isn’t some book of yours. You are in serious trouble. You found a body on your porch and there are no other cars around, except for yours. How did he get here? What is your excuse for why he's here?”

  He glanced at our running vehicles and then twisted his wrist to see his watch. “We have ten minutes on the outside before Paul Davis shows up. He’s in this jurisdiction. He’s going to look just at the questions I asked you and he’s going to say all signs point to you.” Grant shook his head softly. “You know it won’t take much for him to accuse you, Livvie. Please, take this seriously.”

  I hadn't considered it that way. Yes, all lines did point to me. All of Grant’s questions brought up more reasons that it was me, that I had killed David. I believed that I was the killer, when he presented it like that.

  The rain didn’t let up as I struggled to get my nerves under control. “I joked about it, but I didn't mean it. I’m just... nervous. I don't want anybody to die. I wasn't the only one joking about killing him. A lot of us were joking about it. Hell’s bells, even Robyn joked about it.” I didn't mean to throw her under the bus, but I needed to take the attention off me. At least as far as he was looking. He would never suspect his sister. “Why does it feel like you’re blaming me? I didn't do this. I promise.” Whining never got sympathy with anyone and I would irritate myself, if it went that far. Being seen as a suspect in Grant’s eyes was... sickening.