by Amy Boyles
“I have to help my friends,” was all I said. “Alice didn’t commit murder. I know that for a fact. I understand what you’re saying. Really, I do. If you were in the same situation as her, I’d break into someone’s house to prove you were innocent.”
He didn’t say anything. Oh well, another relationship ruined thanks to my clairvoyant abilities.
Okay, so not really. But blaming the situation on my talents made it easier to swallow.
We reached Homer’s street a few minutes later. Roan dropped me off a few houses down so I wouldn’t look suspicious.
“Have a good night.” I opened the door.
“Bliss?”
Hearing my name on his lips sent a shudder through my body. The fact that he’d shortened it made the effect stronger, like I was being thrown into a concrete wall—in a good way.
“Yes?” I tossed hair over my shoulder, doing my best attempt at seduction.
“Be careful.”
I shut the door and he drove off. I watched for a few seconds but couldn’t focus on it. There was work to do.
The street was quiet. The soft murmur of television sets drifted in the air. As I approached the brick house that I knew to be Homer’s, thanks to Ruth giving me the address, I slowed.
“Ruth, Alice,” I whispered.
“Over here.” The bushes had spoken.
Of course. Why would they be standing behind a row of trees when they could be balled up behind pokey shrubbery?
I glanced around to make sure I was alone and then hopped into an azalea bush the size of a buffalo.
“Where are y’all?”
A penlight clicked on. “Here.”
Ruth and Alice peeked out from behind handheld branches. They were decked out in black, with shoe polish smeared on their cheeks. They reminded me of bank robbers.
“What’s going on?” I said.
Ruth pointed to the house. “From what I understand, Farris had a nighttime bingo championship to attend. It was last minute. You can thank Doris.”
“That was nice of her.”
“Better to do it at night,” Alice said. “That’s what Doris suggested, so here we are.”
“Okay. No one’s in the house, right?”
“Right,” Ruth said. “If you get the door open, I’ll snoop around.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve already told y’all. I’ll be the one who goes in. If they return, whoever’s in there will need to make a quick getaway. It’s better if that someone is me.”
Ruth and Alice nodded to each other.
“It’s very simple. I search the bathroom for the right prescription.”
“It won’t be in the bathroom,” Alice said.
“Why not?”
“Old people keep their bottles in the kitchen,” Ruth said. “When you have a lot of medicine to take, that’s where you keep it—on the counter most likely.”
“Good to know. What else?”
Ruth shrugged. “Not much else. But be careful and be quiet. This might be an older neighborhood, but they take the whole Neighborhood Watch thing seriously.”
“Okay, got it.” I exhaled a deep shot of air. “Are we ready?”
They rose and huddled close. I peered around the bushes toward the house. “Okay, the coast is clear.”
“Wait,” Ruth said. “How’re we going to get in? The neighbors are too close for us to break glass.”
I poked the air. “Let me see if one of my ghost friends is around.”
Though I felt like a total idiot doing it, I had no choice but to stare into the darkness and say, “Susan! Susan!”
Nothing happened.
“You’d have better luck requesting me.”
Lucky Strike slowly materialized. At first only his head was visible. Then his shoulder and torso appeared.
“Thank goodness. I need you.”
He curled with a flourish into a bow. “At your service. What can I do for you?”
“I need to enter a house.”
He snapped his fingers. “Done.”
I nodded to Ruth and Alice. “Y’all ready? I need you to be on the lookout.”
Alice shook her head. “Even though I know you can see ghosts, it still gives me a chill to watch you talk to nothing.”
“Story of my life, Alice. You should’ve been around when I was a kid. All the other children were afraid of me because of it.”
Ruth patted my shoulder. “All that’s over now.”
Lucky floated out of the bushes.
“Do the call if someone comes,” I said to Alice and Ruth.
“We’re ready,” Alice said. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and released a shrill whistle.
A floodlight snapped on outside the bushes. “Who’s in there?”
That voice was unmistakable. I shot a panicked look to Ruth and Alice.
“Go.” I pushed them to the back of the bushes. If they were quick, the women could race through the line of trees separating one yard from the next. They could be on the opposite street within seconds.
But as I shoved, the bushes parted. The floodlight pierced the darkness. I shielded my eyes from the blinding beam.
“Hold it right there.”
“Would you put that thing down?” Ruth said. “No one can see.”
“As long as you promise to stay put,” came the voice.
“Where are we going to go?” Ruth said. “All I can see are spots.”
The light lowered. The outline of Kency Blount filled the bushes. “Nobody move. Alice Cassidy, you’re under arrest for the murder of Neal Norton.”
Ruth and I stared at Alice. Her expression crumpled. She took one step toward Kency. “I’m innocent.”
Kency’s words came out crisp, emotionless. “We’ll let a court of law decide that. Now come with me.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Kency hauled Alice to her car. The sheriff glanced at Alice’s black shoe-polished face, then at Ruth and lastly at me.
“I’m going to assume y’all were trying to hide and not up to something illegal.”
“Oh yes,” Ruth said, waving. “We were trying to stay away from you. You know Alice didn’t do it.”
Kency tucked Alice in the back and shut the door. “Not for you to decide.”
“But she didn’t,” Ruth said.
Kency pressed her lips tight. She looked like she wanted to say something, like it was on the end of her tongue, but she swallowed whatever it was.
“Look, y’all two go home. Get out of here.” With that, Kency got into her car and started it.
Alice pressed her hands to the glass and mouthed, Do it! Get him!
Kency drove off. My gaze flickered to Ruth. “You got your call down pat?”
“You know it.”
“Good. Get in those bushes.” I studied Homer Hicks’s house. “I’m going in.”
Lucky already had the side door unlocked. I turned the knob slowly, peering around the brick to make sure no one was watching. All the neighbor’s blinds were clamped shut. The porch lights were on, and TVs hummed quietly from most of the buildings.
I held my breath and pushed the door. Silence greeted me. I heard a clunk as the refrigerator dumped ice in the bin. The heater kicked on, but otherwise the house was still.
“You’re welcome.”
Lucky appeared beside me.
“I suppose I’m supposed to thank you.” I shot him a scathing look. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, but soon enough it will be me thanking you.”
I took a step. Floorboards creaked beneath my feet. Lucky illuminated enough of the room that I could see I was in the den. The floor plan was fairly open. I estimated the kitchen was in the front of the house. Easy peasy.
“Walk with me.” I crossed the room quickly and reached the kitchen in record time.
The counters were wiped clean and bare, so I started checking cabinets.
Lucky leaned his back against the counter and inspected his fingernails. “So what do you
think this guy did?”
I opened and shut cabinets. “I think he stole his father’s blood thinner and gave it to Neal so that Neal wouldn’t spill the beans that Homer’s the one who killed Susan. Pretty simple.” I opened another cabinet. No luck. “Now all I have to do is prove it.”
I opened cabinet after cabinet but couldn’t find anything. “What the heck? Where are the pills? I know they’re here somewhere.”
Kency had Alice. It was only a matter of time before Alice was officially charged. The police had already stopped looking for any other suspects. I had to deliver the real murderer.
There was no other choice.
“Lucky, help me look. We’ve got to hurry. Homer and his dad will be home soon.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Lucky Strike and I tore through the house. We opened cabinets, pulled drawers, checked under the sink. I searched every corner of that kitchen and didn’t see anything.
Not one prescription bottle, not even half a pill could be found anywhere.
“Back to the den.”
I marched in and checked the TV tray sitting beside a worn recliner. Empty. I searched the ottoman, the cabinets and the side tables. I even checked the potted plant.
Nothing.
“The bedrooms.”
I scurried down the hall. My heart rate was jacked high. There were supposed to be pills in this house. Lots and lots of pills, but so far I’d found nothing.
We reached a bedroom with the delightful smell of old person filtering in the air.
“This must be his room.”
I checked the nightstand, the drawers, everywhere. Still there wasn’t one sign of a prescription bottle.
I raked my fingers over my scalp. “What is going on? It has to be here. Something has to be here. This isn’t a wild-goose chase. I know it. I know there are pills.”
I sat on the bed and stared at Lucky. “If you were a prescription bottle, where would you be?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the type of drug it is.”
“It’s not illicit,” I snarled. “It’s lifesaving.”
Lucky stroked his chin. “If I was chained to lifesaving drugs, I would keep them on me.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He shrugged. “I’d keep them in my pocket. In my car. No, not in the car because it would get too hot. I’d have them around in case I forgot to take them. That way they’d always be nearby.”
I bolted from the bed. “Oh my God, Lucky. If you were a person, I’d kiss you.”
“On the mouth?”
I glared at him. “Don’t get any ideas. No. And never ask me that again unless you want to lose a toe.”
“Spicy.”
I strode through the house. “That’s it. He probably has the pills with him, so all we have to do is go to the senior center and nab the blood thinner off Farris. Easy. Lucky, you go to the senior center and scope it out. Think you can do that?”
The ghost nodded. “For you, I sure will.” He vanished.
I reached the back door, the one Lucky had unlocked for me. As I extended my hand it opened.
I jumped back. Ruth shuffled inside. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slack.
“What’s wrong? Ruth, are you okay?”
Her head twitched as if to say no.
“What is it?”
When she entered the house, I saw the problem. Ruth wasn’t alone. Homer Hicks followed behind her, and his dad, Farris, brought up the rear.
Homer flipped on a light. He had a gun pressed into Ruth’s back. Homer’s mouth curled into a serpentine smile.
“Well, well, well. Look what we’ve got here. Two rabbits caught in a trap.”
TWENTY-SIX
Oh crap. Homer Hicks held a 9 mm to Ruth’s back. “Get over there with your friend.”
He shoved Ruth forward, and she collapsed in my arms. I hugged her and glared at Homer.
“What happened?” I said to Ruth.
“What happened was that I found a birdie in my bushes looking like she was about to break into the house. That’s the problem. Dad, call the cops so we can have these two arrested.”
Farris shuffled to the landline on a table.
Ruth clutched my arms. She whispered in my ear, but her whispering level was that of trying to be heard in a barn over a rainstorm. Meaning, it was loud.
“Don’t worry, Blissful, I didn’t tell him the real reason we’re here. You know, about the warfarin.”
I froze. Homer’s head snapped in our direction. “Dad, hang up the phone. We’re not calling the cops.”
I wanted to sink to the floor. Now Homer knew. Oh well, what the heck? Might as well get him talking.
Farris cradled the phone. “Why not? What’s going on?”
“Looks like these two figured out my little secret,” Homer said. He held the gun steadily on me. This would come back to hurt him. He couldn’t keep the gun pointed on both of us at once.
I needed to exploit that weakness. But how?
Time to get him talking, make him sloppy. “Yeah, Homer. We know all about how you used your father’s warfarin to kill Neal Norton.”
Farris pointed to the fanny pack around his waist. “You didn’t find nothing. I keep all my medicine bottles in this.” He unzipped the mouth and out popped several amber-colored prescription vials.
Homer smirked. “What makes you think I killed Neal?”
“It’s obvious,” I said calmly. “Neal was going to reveal who killed Susan Whitby. You couldn’t have that, could you? Not Homer Hicks, owner of the only hardware store in town. So you had to get rid of him. What easier way could there be other than to dose him with your dad’s pills?”
I glanced at Farris. “I’m sorry to tell you, but your son’s a murderer.”
Farris shot Homer a confused look. Then he sagged into a chair. “Always such a good boy. I hate to see that happen to you, Son.”
Homer rolled his eyes. “Can it, Dad.” He flicked the gun at us. “So the two of you decided to play detective, find the evidence so that you could turn it in to Kency, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
A murderous sparkle filled Homer’s eyes. “Tell you what. You want to find out how Neal Norton died? Let’s try it on the both of you.” Without taking his eyes off us, Homer glanced at his father. “Dad, tie them up.”
“Okay.” Farris rose.
Pure, unadulterated confusion filled me. I spat my words at Farris. “Why are you helping him? Your son is a murderer!”
“Gotta be loyal to family,” was all Farris muttered as he ambled around the room, found some rope and pointed to a couple of chairs.
I slid onto one and Ruth followed. She leaned over. “Don’t worry, Blissful. We’ll get out of this somehow.”
I wasn’t sure what that somehow was. Lucky Strike had left, Susan was nowhere to be found, and I was about to be hog-tied to a piece of wood.
Oh, and Homer Hicks had a gun. Jerk.
Homer kept the gun leveled at Ruth and me. The only thing I could do was plead with Farris. “You can’t let your son do this. He’s a murderer.”
“Stop talking,” Homer snapped. “Dad, hurry up. Tie them tight.”
Within a few minutes we were firmly secured to the chairs. “Get your blood thinner,” Homer ordered.
“You can’t keep taking all my warfarin,” Farris complained. “I’ll run out before it’s time to fill it.”
Homer rolled his eyes. “Just tell the pharmacy it fell down the toilet. They’ll refill it. It’s cheap. Don’t worry.”
“I still don’t like to keep using it up.”
“Stop complaining.”
Farris pulled a bottle from his fanny pack and handed to Homer. Homer shook it dramatically. “Now, ladies, who wants to try some?”
There was no time left. “You’ll never get away with this,” I snarled. “You can’t go around murdering people. You killed Susan, and then Neal. Now you’re going to kill us? At some point you will be caugh
t and found, Homer Hicks.”
The smirk on his face changed to surprise. He laughed, a big belly laugh that made his cheeks quiver. “You think I killed Susan?” Homer bent over, the intensity of his chuckle increasing until his voice filled the entire house. “You think I killed Susan?” he repeated.
I wasn’t sure what was so funny. Wasn’t this why Ruth and I were here, tied up and about to be forced to eat Farris’s blood thinner? Wasn’t it because Homer had murdered Susan Whitby thirty years ago and Neal Norton only a few days past?
What was I missing?
“What’s so funny?” Ruth said it first. She leaned over. “I hope it’s okay that I asked. I don’t understand why Homer’s about to spill his guts with laughter.”
“Join the club.”
Homer knuckled tears from his eyes. “I’m laughing because y’all think I killed Susan Whitby. I didn’t kill her.”
None of this made sense. “Then why’d you kill Neal Norton if you didn’t murder Susan all those years ago?”
“I didn’t kill Susan”—Homer jerked his head to the left—“he did.”
My gaze flicked from Homer to his left, where his father stood. “Farris?”
On cue, Farris Hicks rolled up his sleeves as if he was about to get down to business. Wouldn’t you know it, but an anchor tattoo was stamped on his upper bicep.
Susan’s words echoed in my head. Something strange had happened, then an anchor, next thing she knew she was dead.
Something strange had happened.
My stomach collapsed to my feet. “Oh my God, you assaulted Susan!”
By assault I meant much more than that. I meant that Farris Hicks had taken young Susan Whitby by force. Afterward, he must’ve realized what he’d done, because then he needed to cover his tracks. The only way to do that would’ve been to kill her.
“Susan was loose,” Farris grumbled. “Everyone knew that—even Homer. That night they fought. I found Susan in the alley, crying. She was weeping hard, grabbing my shirt and pulling me down to her. I could tell she wanted me to kiss her, so I did. One thing led to another, and it happened. Was I sorry it did? Of course I was. But then she started spouting off that she was going to tell someone. If that had gotten back to my wife, I would’ve been ruined. So I strangled her.”