“For a change,” she quipped under her breath. She pulled the folder closer. “Anyhow, I was searching through those attic relics my parents picked up on the east coast, and I came across a box that had mostly useless stuff, a silver plated hair brush that had no bristles left, a few hand embroidered handkerchiefs that were too stained to save and a small stack of pictures that were tied up with a frayed red ribbon. Most of them were just of people out on a lawn playing croquet in front of a big brick house, but a few of them were very unusual.”
Lola pulled a photo out of the folder. A woman wearing an enormous round skirt beneath a short bodice with drop sleeves and an ornate yolk, all typical of the mid nineteenth century, stood on the front porch of a large brick house. Something about her face looked tight. She might have been upset or trying hard to hold back a smile. It was hard to tell.
“It’s a very nice picture, Lola. Very clear, considering the age.”
Lola lifted it higher. “Look closer. I didn’t bring it just to show you a severe looking woman in a cumbersome dress. There’s something unusual about the picture.”
I adjusted my glasses and lifted the image closer.
“Look directly to her left. What do you see?”
My gaze shifted away from the woman, the focal point of the picture. The deep red brick of the facade looked slate gray in the photo. That dark color provided a stark background contrast for the milky white smear of haze right next to the woman. “I see something cloudy next to her. Maybe the photographer messed up on the development of the film?”
“That was my first guess, but stare at the haze a little longer. Block out the rest of the picture and look just at the milky smear on the porch.”
I honed in on the fuzzy blur next to the woman. As I blotted out the surroundings and focused on the haze, a figure seemed to appear. A pair of tall dark boots stretched up to what looked like fawn colored breeches. My gaze traveled up along a waistcoat and cravat and stopped at a pair of intense dark eyes looking directly into mine. “Holy moly,” I sucked in a sharp breath and dropped the picture.
“You see him too.” Lola was slightly pale from my reaction. “I was almost hoping it was just my imagination, but if you see—”
“A man dressed in tall boots, breeches and a waistcoat.” I was still trying to catch my breath.
“And a roguish smile?” she added.
“And a dark, intense gaze.” I pulled my hand away from my chest, a reflex caused by the sudden loss of breath. I picked up the picture. The bell on the door clanged, startling me. The photo floated out of my fingers again.
“Your bestie is back,” Lola muttered under her breath. She quickly swept up the pictures and shoved them into her folder. “Well, thank you, Pink, for your professional opinion on these-these advertising flyers. I’ll talk to you more about them later.” Lola winked and jumped off the stool, leaving me still stunned and even a touch dizzy.
Hazel’s cheeks were puffed with an ear to ear grin as she nodded politely at Lola, who whisked past her like she was on roller blades. It was still cold and wet, but Hazel was apparently so fond of the new sweater from the Mod Frock, she’d decided not to cover it with more suitable wet weather clothing.
Hazel climbed up on the stool that Lola had just vacated and rested her hands on the edge of the counter. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. I just had to get away from the site.” She burst right into her rant rather than wait to find out if she had interrupted something. Which she had, only I wasn’t exactly sure what it was that she’d disrupted. The logical side of my mind was working on some kind of camera manipulation or double exposure theory.
“Everyone is bored and grumpy up at the site. I could swear that big old mansion is sick and tired of us too. It looks even more dejected than ever. Autumn and Jasper decided to do a spa day inside Jasper’s trailer. Jacob and Lydia were hibernating in their trailers. So I hightailed it out of there. Do you know where the ambulance is heading?”
Sirens sounded in the distance. With my head still dazed from the eerie photograph, it took me a second to answer Hazel’s question.
I walked to the window. “I can’t see them, but they seem to be north of town. I’m sure this rain has caused some nasty fender bender or something.”
I walked back to the counter. “I’ve got to arrange some flowers for a birthday party, Hazel. Maybe we can meet for lunch today,” I added, not wanting to hurt her feelings for trying to hurry her out.
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
A ray of sunlight landed on the side of my face. Fingers of warmth were starting to stream through the front windows. “Although, it looks like the sun will be out soon. Clouds roll out of the port almost as quickly as they roll in. I suppose all of you might have to work this afternoon since you’ve had the morning off.”
Hazel smiled as if she hadn’t heard a word I said.
“Hazel?”
“Hmm, oh sorry. Those sirens just had me distracted. There seems to be so many of them.” She plastered on a tight smile. “I’ll leave you to your work then and see you at lunch.”
“Sounds good.”
Hazel hurried out quickly. It seemed I might have upset her, but I’d make it up to her later.
I shook off the worry that I’d hurt Hazel’s feelings and started work on my flower arrangements. I’d pushed the sound of the sirens out of my head until Ryder stepped out from the back. “Sounds like there must have been a big accident.”
He was right. Multiple sirens echoed through town. I walked to the window again and reached it just as Detective Briggs sped up Harbor Lane. He had placed the portable light on top of his undercover car. From my shop window, I could only see to the end of Harbor Lane where it turned right onto Myrtle Place or left onto Culpepper Road. His car veered right.
If Detective Briggs’ car was heading to the right it meant something had happened near my home. I turned to Ryder. “I’m going up to my house. I want to make sure nothing has happened to any of my neighbors.”
“I’ll hold down the fort,” Ryder said. “Let me know what’s up,” he called as I hurried out the door.
Chapter 14
By the time I turned onto Myrtle Place, Briggs’ car was speeding past Loveland Terrace and heading up Maple Hill. As relieved as I was that the emergency wasn’t on my street, I was equally worried that someone up at the photo shoot had been hurt. My mind briefly drifted to the worrisome notion that Jacob’s cold had turned far worse. But Detective Briggs was rarely called for an illness or heart attack. It had to be something far more grave than a case of pneumonia or rigorous case of the flu.
Officer Chinmoor had parked his squad car horizontally across Maple Hill, giving just enough room for only the emergency vehicles to pass. Chinmoor stood guard, not allowing the many curious spectators who had already climbed the hill on foot to get closer to the Hawksworth Manor. I made a last second decision to park in my driveway and walk up the hill on foot. The rain had stopped, and it seemed sunshine was not far off.
Dash’s tall blond head stood up above the others who had gathered. With spring and fair weather approaching soon, Dash had been extra busy at the marina where his job was to tune up and fix boat engines. But the rain had given him the morning off and some much needed time to work on his house. It seemed the symphony of sirens had pulled him from his kitchen remodel project.
Dash waved me over. My heart was pounding, not so much from the uphill hike but from the prospect that someone I knew had been hurt … or worse.
I reached him, and my nerves caused me to fire off a barrage of questions rather than allow Dash to tell me what he knew. “Is it an injury? Is it those treacherous stairs in the house? I just knew someone would go inside to explore. Who is it? Who got hurt?”
“Whoa, slow down there, Lacey. You’re rattling off way more questions than I have answers for.” He’d said it lightly, but it took him only another second of looking at my fretful expression to change his tone. He put a supportive ar
m around my shoulder. “That’s right. These are people you know. I’m sorry for sounding so cheerful.”
“It’s all right. I came at you like a three-year-old with a million questions. What’s going on? Can you tell?”
He paused.
“Don’t worry, Dash. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
He lowered his arm. “I don’t know much of anything. I walked up here after the third or fourth siren screamed past. Chinmoor was already here, playing sentry and keeping everyone else back. What I can tell you is that the paramedics had all their equipment piled on a gurney. They rolled it up to that third trailer in the line of vehicles. The Mayfield fire truck had gotten to the scene first, along with a few of their squad cars. The police and firemen were standing at the bottom of the trailer steps. They had a conversation with the paramedics. The paramedics never went inside. Briggs rolled up just minutes later. He went right inside the trailer with a few of the officers close at his heels.”
My limbs felt heavy with dread. The last few statements assured me that something terrible had happened, that the person inside the trailer was dead.
“I’ve got to find out what’s going on, Dash.” I left him behind and elbowed my way to the front of the crowd. My eyes quickly scanned the scene, looking for familiar faces. Hazel, Lydia and Autumn were standing in front of the caterer’s truck in a supportive circle, with arms around each other. That took all three of them off my worry list. I was sure if I could get Hazel’s attention, she’d head over and fill me in, but she hadn’t looked my direction. From their postures and the tissue clutched in Autumn’s hand, it seemed my worst suspicions of a death were confirmed. Lydia’s ankle length, flowing sweater blocked whoever was standing at the center of the circle. Whoever it was, they weren’t taller than the three women in front, which meant Jacob was not there. Quick flashes of some of the more charming moments of our relationship passed through my mind, like a life passing before me. Only it wasn’t my life, it was Jacob’s. Or to be more precise, Jacob’s life with me. I thought about the horrid tasting omelet he had cooked me one morning. It was so laden with salt, it made my eyes water. But I ate every bite because he had been so excited to make it for me. A long, supposed to be romantic cruise around the harbor where I ended up so seasick, he had to carry me back to the parking lot. Just as my eyes started to burn with the possibility that Jacob was the person in the trailer, his tall figure appeared in the corner of my eye. He hadn’t taken the time to put on a coat as he trudged with heavy steps across the lot toward the others.
I was so relieved to see him, I burst through the crowd and took off at a run. Officer Chinmoor whistled and angrily shouted my name. His sound of alarm brought everyone’s attention my direction. Before I could throw my arms around Jacob, Hazel intercepted the hug with one of her own.
“Oh, Lacey, it’s just awful. I can’t even believe it. Maybe that horrid house has evil spirits after all.”
She was rambling and blubbering and I let her continue, without asking questions. I peered over her shoulder at Jacob. He looked stunned and pale and speechless. Hazel’s parting from the group revealed that a highly distraught Alexander had been standing in the center of the group. It grew easier to deduce who the victim was.
Just then a deep voice, probably the best voice I could hear at a time of great distress, called my name.
“Miss Pinkerton.”
Hazel released me, and I turned around. Detective Briggs was standing at the bottom of the trailer steps with his black winter coat buttoned up and his black fedora hat in hand. With my nerves frazzled and my emotions running high, he was such a welcome sight, a small, hard to define sound escaped me. I took a deep breath to gain control and walked over to him.
Briggs scrutinized my expression, obviously trying to read my emotional state. “I could use your assistance. However, if this is too close to home for you—”
“No,” I said quickly and without thinking. I reminded myself that someone I knew would be laying dead in the trailer. I nodded. “If you need my assistance, I’m here for you.” There was only one meaning behind my statement, but for a second we looked at each other as if there was a million other ways to interpret it. Sometimes Briggs and I were so busy we went weeks without even passing each other on the street, but whenever I was standing face to face with the man, all I could think was how much I’d missed seeing him.
It took me a second to collect my words. Under normal circumstances, (normal being a murder scene where I didn’t know the victim) my feet would have been ready to spring into a happy dance at being asked to assist. But this was entirely different. Still, if I could help, then I wanted a chance.
“Please, yes, it will be difficult. But I can help you collect evidence if that’s what you need.”
Briggs nodded and turned to go back up the steps. I stopped him by placing my hand on his arm. “Is it Jasper Edmonton?”
“Yes, it is.”
I took my hand away to let him know I was ready. I immediately chastised myself for all the mean and disparaging things I’d ever said or thought about Jasper. He was far too young to have such a terrible end.
Chapter 15
The dizzying mix of scents as we stepped into the eight by twenty foot trailer caught me off guard. Briggs took my hesitation as not wanting to see the body. He took hold of my elbow to steady me.
“We can turn back around,” he said quietly.
“No, it’s the mix of fragrances inside this small space. I hadn’t prepared myself. I’m fine.”
I’d also been unprepared to see Jasper, lifeless and still, with his extremely handsome face covered in a dark pink clay mask. Large circles framed his eyes and mouth, giving him a frightening, macabre look.
After the proven success of the ad campaign featuring Jasper and Autumn, the modeling agency had asked for more perks for their models. By the third shoot, Georgio’s had sprung for a personal, private traveling trailer for each model. Jasper had his trailer decorated in expensive furniture, including the sumptuous, richly upholstered sofa where his limp body lay. One arm hung off the sofa like a doll’s arm and his mouth was slack. There were a few bite marks on his bottom lip. The only true detail that showed just how spectacular Jasper looked when he was alive were his rich, dark eyelashes, which now, closed in death gave him a boyish quality.
“Nothing has been touched yet,” Briggs noted. “I’m waiting for the coroner.” He pointed out a pillow, a contrasting accent pillow from the sofa. It was smeared with the pink clay from Jasper’s facial mask. “It seems the victim was taking a nap when someone smothered him with a pillow. That most likely limits our field of suspects to someone who was strong enough to hold a pillow down over a young, well-built man once he woke up.”
“Was it definitely murder?” I was half-heartedly still hoping it wasn’t because murder would most likely indicate one of the other people I knew from Georgio’s. But who?
“I’ll know more once Nate arrives to inspect the body, but all indications are it was murder by suffocation.” Briggs pulled out his notebook, his nod to the old-fashioned implements of good detective work, something I’d always found charming. Somehow, he just wouldn’t be as fun to watch if he was inputting everything on a tablet. “The body was discovered by Alexander Nettles. He’s the location scout for the crew.”
“Yes, I know. I know all of them.”
“I figured as much. That’s why I hesitated to ask for your help. But if you wouldn’t mind, Miss Pinkerton.” He handed me a pair of latex gloves.
I pulled them on and circled around to the pillow. If someone had smothered poor Jasper, then they could have left certain scents on the murder weapon or, in this case, murder pillow. It was somehow worse to think a successful, young life had been snuffed out by an accent pillow.
If I touched the pillow, I needed to return it to the same place and position. I’d been on a few cases with Detective Briggs, something that usually thrilled me. I loved unraveling a good mystery, but
this one was going to be much harder than normal. I could only imagine what my ex-coworkers were going through at the moment.
I knelt down to the floor where the pillow was wedged between the sofa and the coffee table. The coffee table, a small polished-wood oval was strewn with wet washcloths and the empty clay mask jar. Hazel had mentioned that Jasper and Autumn were going to use the free morning for a spa day.
I lowered my face to the pillow. The pink clay mask had a strong aroma of rosehip and something citrus, lemon possibly. I carefully lifted it up and ran my nose along the back side of the pillow. I stopped at the end of the fabric, stunned and feeling a little sick to my stomach.
I pushed the pillow closer. The strong fragrance of the mask on the pillow and on Jasper’s face nearly hid the faint odor on the back of the pillow. I needed to be sure. I took a deep whiff again. My stomach tightened more. It couldn’t be. It was too incredible to consider. There were two distinct odors on the back of the pillow, and I knew both smells well.
“Miss Pinkerton,” Briggs’ deep voice cascaded down over me, snapping me out of my moment of shock. “Miss Pinkerton, do you smell something? Something that could be evidence?”
I was too speechless and thick throated to answer. I peered up at him and nodded.
I placed the pillow back down in the same position. Something red and white caught my eye. I leaned down and pulled a single sock out from under the couch. It was not a man’s sock. I took a quick whiff of it. It smelled of nail lacquer and Georgio’s perfume. It most likely belonged to Autumn. I placed it back in the same spot. “You’ll want to collect the sock as well. I don’t think it belongs to the victim.”
“And the smell on the pillow?” he asked, naturally. Only I wished that he hadn’t. I wished the pillow hadn’t been there at all.
Roses and Revenge (Port Danby Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 7