Drop Dead Sexy

by Katie Ashley

  At that moment, I had a choice. I could lie and say I met up with an old college boyfriend or high school acquaintance. Or I could tell the truth and further horrify my mother. While she might’ve appreciated crotchless panties and body oils, they were only to be used within the sanctity of a relationship. No one would ever see her in pasties without a commitment. Her sexual ideas also extended to me.

  I decided for today honesty would be the best policy. My breath exhaled in a nervous rush as I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Yes, Mama, I went home with a ‘strange man’. Except I didn’t go home—we went to the Holiday Inn off Route 53. And as the night progressed, he wasn’t that much of a stranger—”

  “I’d hardly say anyone you knew in the Biblical sense could be considered a stranger,” Pease remarked.

  After shooting her a look, I continued. “His name is Catcher Mains, and he’s an agent with the GBI.”

  My mother blinked a few times as she processed my words. “Will you be seeing him again?”

  “I don’t think so considering I snuck out this morning.”

  Mama sighed. “But why?”

  “You really want me to answer that question?”

  “Yes. I do. I never thought a daughter of mine would do such a thing.”

  Pease crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh lighten up, Maureen. It was a one-night stand, not armed robbery or murder.”

  Mama rolled her eyes at Pease. “I mean it. What if you get an FTD?”

  “That’s STD,” I corrected.

  She waved her hand. “Whatever.” Her eyes widened. “What if he got you pregnant?”

  “I might be sexually naïve, but I’m not stupid. We used protection, not to mention I’m on birth control.”

  Mama looked slightly relieved, but then her hand went to fiddle anxiously with her pearls. “Is this something you’re going to be doing on a regular basis?”

  I laughed. “No, Mama. It was a one-time thing—a way to put the past behind me.”

  “You just needed to scratch an itch, right?” Pease suggested.

  “If you must put it that way, then yes.”

  A knock came on the kitchen door. I snorted contemptuously at the sight of Brandon Jenkins, Taylorsville’s newest Sheriff’s deputy, standing in the doorway. Sweeping a hand to my hip, I narrowed my eyes at my mother. “You seriously called the law on me when I didn’t answer the phone?”

  She shook her head in protest when Brandon stepped forward. He took his hat off before speaking. “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Sullivan. But there seems to be a situation over at Mr. Dickinson’s house.”

  I furrowed my brows in confusion. “A situation?”

  Brandon’s fingers played along the brim of his hat. “He’s been murdered.”

  An incredulous chorus of “Murdered?” came from me, Mama, and Pease.

  “Yes, ma’ams. It does appear that way.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising anxiety that tightened my chest. Taylorsville hadn’t had a murder since the seventies, and that was back when Dwayne Bassey pulled double duty as the chief of police and coroner. Now it was all on my shoulders.

  Mama swept a hand over her heart. “That sweet man. Who could possibly want to kill him?”

  “Some disgruntled Medicare customer who was pissed they couldn’t afford their medicine anymore?” Pease suggested.

  Randall “Randy” Dickinson owned the only drug store in town. He’d been the kindly pharmacist my mother consulted whenever Allen and I were sick. He also sang bass in the First Baptist choir. Although he was seen from time to time having dinner with some of the widows in town, he’d always been a confirmed bachelor, which was surprising since he wasn’t a bad looking guy. If you put him and nine other men in town in a lineup, he would have been the last one I would have ever imagined being murdered.

  After downing the rest of my coffee for fortification, I drew my shoulders back and got in the coroner zone. “You guys called the GBI?”

  Brandon frowned and shifted on his feet. “Um, not that I know of.”

  “Seriously? You guys should know as well as I do that whenever there is a suspicious death the G-men are called in.”

  “Ralph coulda called it in while I was on the way here.”

  “Whatever. You can double-check on the way back to the crime scene.” I turned to Mama and Pease. “Can you guys hold down the fort with Mrs. Laughton? Her family should be back at noon for today’s viewing.”

  “As a proud member of PAM, I’m happy to serve,” Pease replied with a grin.

  I snorted. PAM stood for Professional Association of Mourners. It was an unofficial club that Allen had come up with for Pease’s group of silver-haired ladies who considered it a good time to hang out at the funeral home. It didn’t matter if they knew the deceased well or not. They still came and paid their respects as well as swiping some of the food that churches or family friends had provided. While it had started out as a joke, Pease’s group had embraced it so much they had T-shirts made with PAM on the front and their names on the back.

  I laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. Brandon, let me grab my bag, and we’ll go.”

  Randy Dickinson lived on five wooded acres on the outskirts of town. He had a beautiful cape cod with a wrap-around front porch. One side of his property met the banks of the Etowah River. As we made our way down the long drive, Brandon informed me that Randy was known to lodge a few complaints from time to time about people trespassing on his land to fish. I filed that comment away for future reference when it came to potential suspects.

  When we pulled up in front of the house, I found Ralph Murphy, our local sheriff, and two of his deputies standing on the front porch waiting for us. Since I had called the GBI in the car, I hadn’t expected to see any agents yet.

  As I started up the front walk, Ralph came to meet me. He was the epitome of the stereotype of a small-town sheriff—kinda like Jackie Gleason’s character in Smokey and the Bandit. Instead of thrusting out his hand, he pulled me into a bear hug. It was the kind of greeting you got when you lived in a town like Taylorsville, which was basically a modern-day Mayberry. “Morning, Olivia.”

  “Morning, Ralph. What happened?”

  After spitting out a stream of shit-colored tobacco juice, Ralph shifted his chaw to his left cheek. “Well, around nine this morning, Blondine Cook, Randy’s cleaning lady, arrived. Although she could see his car in the garage, the front door was locked. So, she used her key to get in. She went back to the bedroom to start cleaning, and she found him in the bed deader than a doornail. Gunshot to the chest.”

  “Got any idea of what kind of weapon we’re looking for?”

  “We were waiting on you to do measurements. But from the looks of the wound, it’s a relatively clean shot in close range. Clearly it’s not a shotgun. I’d guess a pistol. We haven’t moved him yet to see if the bullet got lodged or exited the body.”

  I nodded. “Any idea how the suspect got in?”

  “I had Frank and George checking the points of entrance and exit, and all doors and windows are locked up nice and tight.”

  “Hmm, the ol’ locked room mystery rears its head.”

  “Huh?” Ralph questioned, his bushy brows creasing.

  “Oh, you know how in old detective stories there was always a room locked from the inside, so how could the murderer or thief gotten in? The craziest one was in Poe’s Murders in the Rue Morgue where he had an orangutan be the killer that got in through a window.” When Ralph continued to stare at me, I waved my hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

  “It appears the security system was disarmed, too.”

  “So we’re looking for somewhat of a professional.”

  “It would appear so.”

  Turning around, I peered at the gravel drive. “Any sign of footprints or tire treads?”

  My question turned Ralph suddenly sheepish. “Oh yeah that.” He scratched the back of his neck. “To be honest with you, we really hadn’t thought of that ye
t.”

  While I could have let him squirm a little, I decided to let him off the hook. “No problem. That’s probably something the GBI will want to look at.”

  Ralph’s face appeared momentarily relieved that he hadn’t screwed up the investigation, but then it clouded over. “G-Men are coming?”

  I nodded. “I made the call on the way over here. Thankfully, they had some agents in the area, and they were going to dispatch them here.”

  Ralph spit out another stream of tobacco. “Well, I ain’t really a fan of the G-Men, but I guess it’s good that we have someone more knowledgeable on the case. Hell, it’s been twenty years since I’ve been involved in a murder investigation.”

  “At least you’ve been involved in an investigation first-hand. I’ve only witnessed them as an observer when I was in college.”

  “Well, let’s don’t let the G-Men show us up too much. I’ll get my boys busy photographing the scene and dusting for fingerprints.”

  “Sounds good. Now let me get a look inside.”

  Ralph nodded and held the front door open for me. Before I stepped into the house, I traded my heels for tennis shoes and then put on the paper booties to cover them. Once I walked inside, my senses went on high alert as I took in the particulars of Randy’s house. Even the smallest detail could mean something big to the case. The living area was gorgeous with floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the woods. If you looked closely, you could see the river in the distance.

  The inside of Randy’s house was warm and inviting, much like his personality. He owned several impressive pieces of art as well as oriental rugs and porcelain. Some of it surprised me since it seemed a little out of a small town pharmacist’s budget. At the thought that Randy might’ve had a darker side, I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the thought. Since he never mentioned his family, he most likely had inherited the pieces or the money to buy them.

  “Do we have a timeline of Randy’s actions?”

  Ralph nodded. “Somewhat. He closed up the pharmacy at six last night like usual. Then he stopped in at The Hitching Post to have dinner, which he does on the nights he handles closing instead of one of the pharmacy techs. Thelma said he left probably between seven and seven forty-five.”

  “So we’re looking at anywhere from eight last night to this morning for a time of death?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Fabulous,” I muttered. As I started out of dining room, the photographer’s flashbulb momentarily blinded me. “Easy there, Newt,” I said, as I fought the black blobs dancing before my eyes.

  “Sorry about that, Olivia.”

  “Can I have you come back to the bedroom to photograph the body while I do my investigation?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Newt and I were almost to the bedroom when I heard Todd call my name from the front door. “Back here,” I called.

  He came jogging down the hallway. “Hey. Your mother and Pease said that with Harry and Earl, they had the Peterson and Laughton visitations covered, and I should come here to be with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my mother and Pease to think my thirty-year-old self was incapable of handling my coroner duties. “Thank you, Todd, but I think I have it under control. And since the GBI will be taking Randy’s body to the crime lab, I won’t need the hearse for transportation.”

  Todd held up his hands in surrender. “Got it. You don’t mind if I stay and watch do you?” Curiosity danced in his brown eyes. “I’ve never been part of a murder investigation before.”

  I smiled. “Of course, you can stay. I can use your help in a minute when it comes to turning Randy over.”

  “What about Ralph?”

  With a roll of my eyes, I whispered, “He’s always conveniently down in his back and can’t help lift even a finger.”

  Todd chuckled. “Nice.”

  As I stepped into the bedroom, a coppery, metallic smell invaded my nostrils. It was one I had grown accustomed to whenever blood loss was involved in the death. I once again did a visual sweep of the room. The expensive TV and computer system remained in place. None of the drawers in the bureau had been disturbed or rifled through. It was certainly not a robbery-motivated attack. Since everything was meticulously in order in the bedroom, I felt it safe to assume there hadn’t been a struggle.

  When I walked up to the bed, it hit me how different Randy looked. Sure, he was going to look different considering he was dead, but it was more about how I was used to seeing him. Gone was the crisp, white lab coat he sported over a button-down shirt and tie. In its place was a whole lot of pasty-white flesh. I never would have pegged Randy for someone who slept naked. He seemed more like the pajama type, even in summer.

  I reached into my pocket and took out my voice recorder. After clearing my throat, I pressed the button and began speaking. “Today is February Eighth, 2015. Time is ten forty-five am. Victim is a male, Caucasian between sixty and sixty-five years old. Preliminary cause of death appears to be a gunshot wound to the left pectoral at close range. The wound is about an inch to an inch and a quarter in diameter.”

  I then turned my attention to reporting on Randy from the head down. After lifting one of Randy’s eyelids, I said, “No signs of petechial hemorrhaging, so he wasn’t choked or strangled before he was shot.” As I examined the rest of his face, I didn’t notice any cuts, scratches or bruising.

  I picked up one of his hands and eyed it curiously. “No defensive marks or wounds.” I massaged Randy’s forearm before lifting it. “From the rigidity of the muscles and range of motion in the arm, the victim appears to be in peak rigor mortis.” Rigor Mortis was an easy way for coroners to estimate the time of death. It usually set in two hours after death, and it reached its peak at twelve. By fifteen hours, the muscle fibers began to break down and would loosen up again.

  I cut the recorder off and looked at Ralph. “He obviously didn’t put up a fight. From the looks of it, someone just came in and shot him after he’d gone to bed.”

  Ralph sighed. “If that’s the case, I guess there are some small mercies in the fact he wasn’t tortured or beat up. Maybe he never even knew what was happening. Just went to sleep and never woke up.”

  “Unless he woke up to someone standing over him with a gun, which considering the shot range wouldn’t be surprising,” Todd countered. When Ralph and I both looked at him in surprise, Todd gave us a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I watch a lot of Law and Order.”

  “Yeah, well, they do things a little different up in New York City,” Ralph said.

  I lifted my gaze momentarily to the ceiling. I could tell the animosity rolling off Ralph toward Todd was about more than just a television show. Todd had grown up north of the Mason Dixon line, so to Ralph, he couldn’t be trusted because he was a Yankee.

  “Let’s not turn this into a Yankee vs. Southern thing, okay?” I said.

  “Whatever,” Ralph grumbled.

  “All right, let me check his lividity to see if I can pin down a possible time of death.” Lividity happened when the body’s blood supply stopped moving after the heart stopped pumping. You could gage how long someone had been dead by the way gravity caused the blood to settle. It presented in deep purple discoloration. Since Randy was lying down, I would need to examine the blood discolorations on his back.

  I reached to pull the sheet away from Randy’s body when a male’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Hello? GBI.”

  Ralph groaned. “Great the G-Men are here.”

  I wagged a finger at him. “Be nice. We owe it to Randy to find his killer by having a smooth investigation without animosity.”

  “I will as long as they are. But if they start that holier than thou bullshit, the gloves are coming off.”

  I didn’t bother arguing with him anymore. Instead, I left Randy’s bedside and started for the door. I got halfway there before I froze on the spot. Like I seriously looked like something out Despicable Me with the freeze ray.

  When I was in second g
rade, I fell off the monkey bars. As I had lay in the grass, I’d tried desperately to catch my breath, but I couldn’t. I had the wind completely knocked out of me. I had never experienced the feeling like a flattened tire because my lungs wouldn’t inflate.

  That’s exactly the same way I felt when Catcher Mains waltzed through the bedroom door.

  As I continued standing there like a statue, Catcher reached into his coat pocket for his badge. “Afternoon. I’m Holden Mains from the GBI and this is Elias Solano.” He motioned to the tall, Latino standing next to him.

  It was then as he gazed around the bedroom that he finally saw me. And then that smile—that drop-dead-sexy smile that had made me throw my inhibitions to the wind and my panties to the floor—stretched across his face and managed to de-thaw my frozen status. “Well, well, well. Olivia Sullivan. Fancy seeing you again.”

  Glancing between Catcher and me, Ralph questioned, “You two know each other?”

  Catcher licked his lips. “Oh yes, I know Ms. Sullivan very well.”

  I shifted nervously on my feet. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it was that well. We just seem to run into each other from time to time.”

  A wicked gleam burned in Catcher’s blue eyes. “Yes. I would say it’s been at least three times, wouldn’t you?”

  A strangled cry erupted from my lips at the fact he was alluding to the number of times we’d had sex last night. My mouth had already run dry with nerves, so it took me forever to find my voice. "Might I have a word with you, Agent Mains?” When I felt Ralph and Todd’s eyes on me, I quickly added, “So I can discuss the case with you?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure. Go right ahead.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Alone.”

  Catcher glanced at Elias and the others. “Agent Solano, while Ms. Sullivan is briefing me, why don’t you talk with the officers?”

  Agent Solano nodded. When we stepped into the hallway, I ran into one of the deputies dusting for fingerprints. “That room is clear?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he replied, as he moved on to the bathroom.