A Killing Notion: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery

by Bourbon, Melissa

  “Doors are locked until the dance is over,” the woman said through the glass.

  “They lock the kids in?” Madelyn stared at her as if it were the woman’s personal decision to have such tight security.

  “Standard practice. Helps us keep the kids safe from leaving without permission, and keeps people who don’t belong here”—she looked Madelyn and me up and down, the implication heavy in her eyes—“from coming inside.”

  And then, before we could cajole her to make an exception, she was gone.

  “Great. The homecoming dance lock-in.”

  I turned around. Where was Sally? Had she managed to get around the security system? Had Carrie been snuck out, and were they already gone, Carrie safe and sound?

  I peered at the high school’s driveway. One way in and one way out. We’d have passed each other on the farm-to-market road if she’d already collected her daughter. So Sally and Carrie had to be here somewhere.

  “Come on.” I headed across the lawn toward the indoor gym where I knew there was a second entrance.

  “Maybe I should wait here,” Madelyn said, still panting. “In case someone comes by, you know.”

  “No, you’re not staying here!” I went back, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her forward. “We are sticking together. Murderer, remember?”

  “She’s a girl—”

  “Who’s killed one man and injured another.”

  She looked over her shoulder as if she were longing to stay put, but she trudged along with me instead. Madelyn was no fool. If Sue Blake got to her car, she could ram either of us down. Whether it was true or not, I felt stronger as a pair, and I suspected that Madelyn did, too.

  “Aren’t the doors all going to be locked?” she asked.

  “They didn’t use to be, but I guess things have changed, haven’t they?”

  “It’s a scary world out there.”

  We made it to the gym door and tried the handle. Locked. I peered through the glass. “Look, someone’s there,” I said. I waved, but whoever was there didn’t see us.

  I pushed my glasses to the top of my head and rubbed my eyes. “Think,” I muttered. “How are we going to get in?” How could we get into the building? If it was secure against teenagers, it was certainly secure against two thirtysomething women.

  We traipsed along the perimeter of the school, heading toward the one possible flaw in the security system I remembered from high school. The band director’s window. Mr. Campbell was an institution at Bliss High. He’d been a smoker back when I’d been in school, and I was willing to bet he hadn’t kicked the habit. The school had been, and still was, a nonsmoking campus, so Mr. Campbell had cracked open the window in his office, lit up, and blown the smoke out. All the kids knew, but Mr. Campbell was like everyone’s favorite uncle, so no one ratted him out.

  My brother, Red, and I had snuck onto campus once or twice using this very path. Not our finest moments, but memorable. I could have found the window with my eyes closed, and in minutes, we were standing in front of it. “Our way in,” I said, gesturing toward the small opening. “Mr. Campbell never remembers to close the window after his smoke break.”

  “Top-notch security,” Madelyn whispered to me.

  “Thank heavens for bad habits.”

  I pushed the window up and scurried up and over the windowsill with all the aplomb of an over-the-hill gymnast. Madelyn’s entry was less graceful—and that was saying a lot. I pulled her arms as she flung one leg over the sill, then the other, finally tumbling to the floor inside the office.

  “Remind me next time that the dangerous part of tracking down a killer is the breaking and entering . . . minus the breaking.”

  Of course, there wouldn’t be a next time—how many murders could one small town have, and how many could I help solve?—but I didn’t mention that now.

  We followed the thrump thrump thrump of the music’s baseline echoing in the building, but I couldn’t pinpoint the direction. Madelyn tiptoed ahead, peering down the different hallways. She looked at me over her shoulder. “So, Detective Cassidy, where to?”

  “They’ve remodeled since I went here,” I said, not knowing how to follow the yellow brick road. “The dances used to be in the cafeteria.” I pointed down the center hallway. “Down there, I think.”

  We walked, our feet sounding hollow against the floor. The music grew louder and louder. At the end of the corridor, we made a right turn and there it was: the homecoming dance. The entrance to the cafeteria was decorated with scalloped crepe paper and streamers in black, red, and white. Enormous three-foot-round homecoming mums hung from each point of the scallops, more streamers hanging from them. Through the glass windows spanning the width of the cafeteria, I could see the festive decorations continued with black, red, and white balloons, tables laden with teenage-centric appetizers and sweets, others with punch bowls and small clear plastic cups, and more streamers hanging from the ceiling.

  I looked around. The coast was as clear as it was going to get. “Come on,” I said, crooking my finger and beckoning to Madelyn. I darted to the doors and slipped into the cafeteria, Madelyn on my heels.

  Inside, twinkle lights, a spinning reflective ball, and ambient light kept the room darker than the hallway had been. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. “Keep to the wall,” I said, hoping we wouldn’t be spotted by an on-duty administrator who’d be sure to kick us out. We were trespassing, after all.

  “Where’s the cavalry?” Madelyn whispered.

  “Maybe they can’t get in,” I said, but I forgot about them the next second as I spotted the makeshift stage in the front of the room. The DJ was set up on one side. A teacher stepped up to the microphone and tapped it, sending an echo through the speakers, and then cleared her throat.

  “Welcome, Bliss High School students!” she said, her voice booming into the room.

  A cheer went up from the students.

  “It’s time to welcome your homecoming court!” she said. She held her arm to the side, the DJ played a drumroll, and the woman introduced the prince and princess from the freshman class. They made their way to the stage, arms linked.

  My heart beat erratically. Carrie was homecoming princess for the sophomores. Was she still here and in danger, or had her mother come and whisked her away, and was she safe?

  “And now, the homecoming prince and princess for the sophomore class,” the teacher announced. “Jacob Walters and Carrie Levon!”

  I held my breath. Carrie didn’t appear.

  “Jacob Walters and Carrie Levon!” the teacher repeated.

  Jacob Walters broke through the crowd, looking around, presumably for his homecoming princess. He made his way to the front.

  Still, Carrie didn’t show.

  The crowd had grown quiet, kids looking this way and that for the missing homecoming royalty. The teacher tapped the microphone as if the problem was that she hadn’t been heard, not that the princess was MIA. “Carrie Levon?” she said for the third time.

  Suddenly, a cheer went up and the crowd parted like the Red Sea. I could just see the very top of Carrie’s blond bob glowing under the disco lights as she walked through the center of the throng. I heaved a sigh of relief. She was still here, and she was safe.

  She wasn’t smiling, but she accepted a bouquet of flowers, took Jacob’s arm, and together they walked onto the stage. A small, flat purse lay against her side, the gold chain strap crossing over her front at the same angle as her homecoming sash. Maybe she’d been about to leave with her mother, but they’d called her name instead. Despite the trauma in her life at the moment, in her vibrant emerald dress and the shimmering tiara, she was beautiful. I wondered what her deepest desires were at the moment. Justice for her father? Wanting someone to pay for hurting him?

  If I’d made her dress, they’d be coming true.

  I knew the pa
in she was feeling had to be excruciating. She was putting on a brave face for the homecoming event, but inside was all her uncertainty about her father’s recovery after his near-death experience.

  But I hadn’t made her dress, so she’d have to come to peace on her own terms, and in her own time.

  “What do we do now?” Madelyn asked.

  It was a great question. As I saw it, we had a few options:

  1) Roam the crowd and look for Sue Blake;

  2) Wait for Gavin and the rest of the intrepid Bliss law enforcement team to show up;

  3) Go straight for Carrie to escort her out of here once the homecoming court presentation was over.

  Number three seemed best. “Follow me,” I said, my voice barely audible above the hundreds of teenage conversations going on. We kept close to the wall as we skirted the perimeter of the room, getting closer to the stage with every step.

  The teacher on the stage had already brought up the prince and princess of the junior class, and now the DJ had a drumroll sounding as the homecoming king and queen were called out. The crowd applauded, the couple ascended the steps to the stage, and the Bliss High School royalty was complete.

  I tried to catch Carrie’s eye, but she stared straight into the crowd. She gripped her flowers with one hand, the chain strap of her purse with the other. She looked ready to bolt. I suspected that Jacob’s hold around her waist was the only thing keeping her grounded.

  Scanning the back of the room, I looked for Sally. She had to be here somewhere, had to have found her way into the school like Madelyn and I had, but so far, there was no sign of her.

  I spotted Leslie, Gracie, Danica, Holly, and the rest of their group standing in front of the crowd and knocked Madelyn with the back of my hand, pointing. “There’s—”

  “Can I help you?” a man said from behind me.

  I whirled around . . . and bumped smack into a portly man in a gray pinstripe suit. “Mmph, sorry!” I stepped back and started to turn back toward the stage, but he grabbed my wrist.

  “Ma’am, you are not allowed in here. This is a school function and—”

  I notched my head toward Gracie. “I’m here to see my . . . my . . . stepdaughter,” I finally said, going with what would make the most sense to him. Better than saying my boyfriend’s daughter or some girl I knew.

  “I don’t care if you’re here to see Jesus Christ himself, you’re not allowed in here.”

  For the first time, I noticed the walkie-talkie in his left hand. He raised it to his mouth, depressed a button with his finger, and started talking. “Officer Cole, we have two individuals who need to be escorted off campus. Would you please assist?”

  I pulled my arm back, trying to loosen his grip. “No, but wait—”

  “Ma’am, you need to stop now,” the principal told me.

  The walkie-talkie crackled and a tinny voice came back with, “Ten-four. What’s your location?”

  “South wall inside the cafeteria.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Sir, please, you don’t understand,” I said.

  “Excuse me.” Madelyn stepped forward, holding out a badge. I tried to get a better look at it, but the light was too dim. “I’m with the sheriff’s department. I’m here to keep an eye on one of your students. She’s the daughter of a man who was brutally attacked yesterday.”

  I gasped, staring. “Madelyn,” I said with a hiss.

  The principal didn’t look to me like he’d just fallen off the turnip truck. He spoke into the walkie-talkie again. “Officer Cole, are there law enforcement personnel authorized to be on campus?”

  I held my breath, waiting for Madelyn’s exaggeration of the truth to come back and bite us. “Affirmative.”

  “I can explain—” I started to stay, but then the “affirmative” registered. “Wait. What?”

  Law enforcement personnel authorized to be on campus. That couldn’t include Madelyn, so that meant Gavin had to be here. Hallelujah!

  “Who’s on campus?” the principal asked, looking at Madelyn with a wary eye.

  “Deputy sheriff,” the tinny voice of Officer Cole said. “Almost at your location.”

  I pulled my arm again. This time, instead of holding tight, the man let go. “Thank you,” I said.

  “We’re not done here. Let me see that badge.” He held his hand out to Madelyn.

  The jig was up. She started to hand it over, but I stepped in the way and spoke loud enough to be heard above the music. “Sir, one of your students is in danger. There’s a murderer . . .”

  I trailed off as the music stopped and the teacher who’d introduced the homecoming court onstage stepped back to the microphone. “Let’s give our homecoming court another round of applause,” she said.

  The kids started clapping. From where I stood, it looked like Carrie’s entire body was trembling. Her hands fidgeted in front of her, and then she caught sight of someone in the crowd and all the color drained from her face.

  I followed her gaze and saw the girl I suspected was Sue Blake. “Oh no,” I muttered, starting toward the stage, but the principal pulled me back.

  “You need to stay put, ma’am.”

  Carrie’s lips started moving but without a mic, there was no way to know what she was saying.

  As if on cue, one of her classmates yelled, “We can’t hear you!”

  “Yeah, speak up!”

  A roar went up, someone started clapping, and before long, the kids chanted, “Carrie! Carrie! Carrie!”

  Support, I knew, because of the ordeal her family had just gone through. She was the new girl in Bliss, but she’d made an impression on people.

  I couldn’t be sure from this far away, but I thought her eyes looked glassy. The teacher onstage raised the mic to capture Carrie’s voice, the sound system catching the tremors in it midsentence. “. . . and he almost died. Why?”

  The room fell utterly silent, everyone’s eyes glued to Carrie; then, as if they were all connected, they turned to look at who Carrie was addressing.

  Sue Blake stood there, her hands twisting around the small purse slung over her shoulder, staring back at Carrie. She didn’t speak, but her lips pressed together into a harsh, thin line.

  “Leave me alone!” a woman screeched from the back of the room. “That’s my daughter up there!”

  All eyes turned in the direction of the ruckus. “Ma’am,” another woman yelled. “You can’t come in here!”

  I recognized her instantly. Sally Levon.

  A woman tried to stop Sally from barreling forward, but Sally was on a mission, determined to get to Carrie and protect her. She dodged another parent or teacher chaperone who’d stepped in her way, skirting around clusters of kids.

  The silence that had fallen over the students had been replaced by the sound of chaos.

  “Carrie!” her mother yelled.

  At that moment, a loud clatter ripped through the PA system. Carrie’s group of friends had all climbed onto the stage. It looked like a small riot, with Gracie and Shane in the center. Carrie’s voice cracked with emotion. It sounded far away, the mic unable to capture it fully. “The first time I saw you, I knew,” she said. Her voice cracked and I knew the emotion I heard was fear. And it was no wonder. She was confronting a killer.

  “How could you kill Shane’s dad? Why try to kill mine?”

  It took a few seconds before her words seemed to sink in with her classmates. Shane stared at her, then searched the crowd. “What? Who are you talking to? That woman, that Barbara Ann Blake, she confessed.”

  Carrie shook her head. “She lied. She’s protecting her daughter.” Her voice still cracked with tension and fear, but grew louder.

  Shane’s jaw went slack. He grabbed Carrie by the shoulders, staring at her. “What are you talking about?”

  Carrie wove her hands up in
between Shane’s arms. Abruptly, she pulled them apart, breaking Shane’s hold on her. She raised her arm to point just as a girl pressed her way through the crowd on the stage. “That’s your half sis—”

  The words froze on her lips as Danica Edwards lunged.

  Chapter 32

  Danica came up short in front of Carrie. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she said. Then in a louder voice directed at the homecoming group watching, she said, “She’s completely lost her mind.”

  Carrie backed away, but her voice carried as she said, “Tell them who you are.”

  Danica, bless her twisted heart, pressed her palm to her chest. “Danica Edwards,” she said.

  “Tell them who your father was,” Carrie insisted.

  “I don’t have a father—”

  “Because you killed him!”

  Everyone in the room watched in silence, riveted.

  “Carrie,” Danica started, but Carrie interrupted her, raising her hand, palm out to Danica’s chest.

  “Don’t,” she said, her lower lip quivering. “You had a family. You ran away and left them.”

  “I live in Serendipity House,” Danica said, referring to the transitional home for kids on their own. “I don’t have a family. It’s only thanks to Mrs. James and Helping Hands that I can even be here tonight.”

  The teacher with the mic managed to usher both Carrie and Danica off the stage, the rest of the group following closely, but the girls didn’t stop. “No family?” Carrie asked when she made it to the bottom of the steps. “You’ve never had a family?”

  Danica spun toward her. She hesitated before responding, and I knew she had at least a shred of feeling for her mother, even if she’d never admit it here. “That’s what I said. No. Family.”

  Tears streamed down Carrie’s face, her words barely audible through her sobs. “Because you killed your father when you learned what he’d done. But why my dad?” She spun to face Danica head-on. “Just tell me why.”

  “You’d better stop,” Danica threatened. There was no more mic, but there wasn’t a single sound in the cafeteria other than the two girls, and we heard every word, and the threat behind them.