the dead girl (BREAKDOWN Book 1)

by Debra Webb

  Lucy nodded. “Yes. She was thirty-two and her little girl was seven.”

  Madelyn Yates and her daughter had been shot and killed—execution style—in their Carmel home some thirty years ago. She remembered seeing the still unsolved mystery on one of those true crime documentary type television programs. “I thought the husband was Jason Lavelle.”

  “Yes,” Lucy confirmed. “He changed his name. Sylvie said so.” Her eyes rounded and her hands went to her mouth.

  Laney held up a hand. “No worries, remember?”

  Even as she said the words, Laney’s heart rate picked up. Had there been a murderer in their midst all this time? One who had gotten away with it before?

  Damn.

  “Sylvie didn’t believe he killed his wife and daughter. She told me it was someone who wanted to hurt him. Revenge or something.” Lucy shrugged. “Sylvie was smart. She believed this to be true or she would not have said so.”

  Laney could certainly understand how a high profile past like that would make a person want to hide in their home for the rest of their lives. She wondered if McCabe knew about this? If he had, wouldn’t he have brought it up when discussing potential suspects in Sylvia’s murder?

  Certainly a question she would be asking him.

  “Lucy,” Laney considered a moment more how best to frame the question, “did Sylvia ever ask you to do anything special—besides cleaning for the clients?”

  The young woman stared at Laney for a moment before the implications of the question sank in, then she shook her head adamantly. “No. No way! Sylvie was very protective of all of us. If anyone had made us feel uncomfortable she would have confronted them immediately. She would never allow such a thing.”

  “What about drugs? Did Sylvia or any of the clients ever offer drugs to you or accept drugs from you?”

  The other woman’s forehead furrowed with a frown. “No. Never. Sylvie hated drugs. She has—had a strict no drugs policy. We are not allowed to use drugs and she will not take clients who do.”

  Exactly the answers Laney had expected. “What about her finances, did Sylvia ever discuss her finances with you?”

  “She had money. Plenty. But she never talked about her money. She was very generous, but she did not speak of it.”

  Now for the more sensitive territory. “Lucy, were you aware of any sort of relationship between Sylvia and Vinn Bradshaw?”

  Lucy pondered the question a moment. “I saw her talk to him once at the market when we ran out of window cleaner. We went there together. The boy was with his mother. He came over and said hello.”

  “What about his mother? Did she speak to Sylvia as well?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No. She never speaks to any of us. Sylvie says she is the definition of a snob.” She leaned forward and whispered, “A bitch.”

  Connie Bradshaw wasn’t someone with whom Laney had had reason to interact. They’d spoken in passing on the sidewalk or in a shop. Laney hadn’t noticed that she was particularly snobbish. But then she wasn’t particularly friendly either.

  “Did Sylvia and Mrs. Bradshaw have any problems?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I only know what she said that one day.”

  Another thought occurred to Laney. “You said the Bradshaws stopped being Sparkle’s clients. Had they been clients very long?”

  “Yes, long time clients until a few months ago. When I first came to work for Sylvie the Bradshaws were scheduled weekly. Maybe six months ago they dropped off the schedule.”

  “Did Sylvia ever mention why they dropped off the schedule?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No. She never talked about it. Other than people who moved away or died, Sparkle never lost a customer before. It was a big shock. She was upset for some time. Sylvie took it personally.”

  The Bradshaw name had just moved to the top of the persons of interest list as far as Laney was concerned. When this many threads were dangling there was bound to be a loose seam. Give one thread a pull and the whole thing could unravel.

  “Thank you, Lucy.”

  Laney made her way through the rest of the employees, saving Jennifer Fraley until last. At twenty-eight Fraley was the oldest of the crew. Like the others, she was very attractive. Brown hair, green eyes. Unmarried, as were all the others. No children. With six employees, it seemed odd that they all just happened to be single and childless. Or maybe not, they were all young, in their twenties.

  “How long have you been with Sparkle?” Laney started out with the questions to which she knew the answers. This way she could get a feel for Fraley’s honest answers. McCabe had questioned her yesterday so this was Laney’s first time speaking directly to her.

  “Five years.”

  Fraley stated her answer and nothing more. Time to shake things up. “You moved from San Francisco to Shutter Lake around five years ago after a prostitution charge and spending a few months in jail. Did you know someone here? If not, why choose this town?”

  “Renata and I went to high school together,” Fraley said. “After they cut me loose, I was desperate. I’d heard through the grapevine that she was doing good for herself. I just needed a hand. I wanted to do better.”

  “Were Renata and Sylvia aware of your previous profession?”

  Fraley’s face tightened the slightest bit. “Yeah. I was up front with Renata when I called her and she told Sylvie about my past. Sylvie wanted to help me. She was like that, you know.”

  Laney nodded. “I’d like you to be up front with me, too, Jennifer. How long were you in the life?”

  She crossed her arms over her pink tunic and jutted out her chin. “I dropped out of high school at sixteen after my father kicked me out. Friends took me in for a while, but before long I had no place to go, nothing to eat and no skill to change those two facts. So I sold my body to survive. I’m sure all of this is in a file somewhere at City Hall.”

  It was now. They’d run each of the employees’ names and Fraley’s record popped up. “But you were determined to change that after your arrest.”

  “I didn’t want to go back. I wanted a real life. Sylvie gave me that chance.”

  In the past twenty-four hours Laney had heard endless testimonials about what an awesome person Sylvia Cole was. It wasn’t that she doubted any of the heartfelt accolades but when something or someone sounded too good to be true, they generally were. There were certain facts that could not be denied. First, Sylvia opened the door to her killer, which meant she most likely knew him. Second, she was in a nightshirt. Even more reason to believe she knew her killer well. Murder was always precipitated by a motive of some sort, but when the murderer is a familiar, then the motive is particularly strong. Her killer not only had a compelling reason to despise Sylvia enough to want her dead—that reason was powerful enough to do it up close, shoving any affection aside. He wanted her to look him in the eye as she struggled to breathe. He wanted her to know he was the one killing her.

  Was Vinn Bradshaw not ready to end his relationship with Sylvia? Did he have the courage and strength to commit such an up close and intimate murder?

  Had Sylvia learned some secret about Troy Duval? Maybe that he really had murdered his wife and daughter?

  Was all that cash in Sylvia’s closet because she was running more than a cleaning service? Maybe carrying out a little blackmail?

  “Jennifer,” the other woman’s eyes met Laney’s, “was Sylvia doing anything illegal?”

  “What?” She made an are-you-insane face. “No way!”

  “She never asked any of you to do anything illegal for her?”

  Fury darkened Fraley’s face now. “Are you suggesting that just because all of us are young and pretty that we were servicing our clients in other ways?”

  “No.” Laney shook her head. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m asking if you were.”

  “Son of a…” She took a deep breath. “We’re all clean. Spotless! Sylvie made us all take drug tests every month. Always when we least expected it. We wer
e warned on a regular basis that if a client ever reported something missing or damaged that we didn’t report first, we were gone. If we got personally involved with a client, we were gone. No debating, no questions. Gone. Done. Fired. Reputation was everything to her.”

  “Is that what happened to Josie Rodriquez? Did she break one of those rules?”

  Based on how Sylvia treated her employees, there had to be a strong reason Rodriquez was gone.

  Fraley shrugged. “I don’t know what happened with her. She was a hard worker. Always on time. Never got into trouble. She just didn’t come back one day. Sylvie was surprised and worried. I know she made a lot of calls trying to find her, but never did as far as I know.”

  “This was two, two and a half months ago?”

  “Yeah. Sylvie was helping Josie with her papers.” Fraley gave Laney a look. “You know, her citizenship papers. Josie seemed really excited. Then she was just gone.”

  “No one’s heard from her since the last day she showed up for work?”

  “Not a word.”

  “You’re certain she and Sylvia never had any issues?”

  A scenario was forming fast for Laney. Rodriquez had been young, only seventeen, according to her file. What if she was the one who was involved with Vinn Bradshaw? But then why would Vinn wait until a few days ago to confront Sylvia for sending her away? Laney would add that to the follow up questions she had for Vinn—assuming the lawyer allowed any more questions.

  Laney studied the woman seated across the desk from her. As forthcoming as all Sylvia’s employees had been, it still felt as if they were all leaving something out. She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “We really need answers here, Jennifer. I know all of you believe Sylvia was an amazing person—a godsend in many ways—but she must have had at least one secret. Something someone was willing to kill for.”

  Fraley stared at Laney for a long moment before she responded. “Everyone has secrets, Deputy Holt. I’ll bet you even have a few.”

  Laney smiled. “I have one or two, yes.”

  “This town is a lot like you, then. When people look at it, they see a beautiful place. A calm and quiet place. But there are secrets. Way more than anyone would ever imagine. You just have to look closely to see them.”

  Laney’s heart was pounding by the time Fraley fell silent once more. “Are any of those secrets the reason Sylvia was murdered?”

  Fraley shrugged. “You tell me, you’re the cop.”

  The interview went downhill from there. The women weren’t allowed to discuss their clients. Each employee signed a contract that explicitly prohibited the disclosure of details related to clients or the discussing of anything they learned from a client or at a client’s home. The only exception to that rule was with the conveying of that information to Sylvia or to Renata. Lucy was the only one to even skirt close to breaking that rule. And all insisted there were no drugs and no other illegal activities.

  After thanking Renata for her cooperation, Laney headed back to City Hall. She had some background to dig up on Troy Duval before going to interview him. She also intended to see if she could locate Josie Rodriguez. Since she was no longer employed by Sparkle, maybe she would be willing to talk.

  Then there was the Bradshaw family. Laney needed to know why the Bradshaws had dropped Sparkle as their cleaning service.

  Had one of the girls broken a golden rule with the teenage son?

  At the end of the day, Laney intended to have a sit down with McCabe. She had a feeling there was a lot more to his relationship with Vernon Bradshaw than anyone knew. Whether it was relevant or not, Laney needed it off her list of loose ends.

  Plus, McCabe should know at least some of the secrets folks in Shutter Lake were keeping. If he didn’t, maybe his father would—except his father was in the nursing home with dementia.

  It seemed each step forward was immediately followed by two steps back. Maybe Laney was rusty. She hadn’t played the role of homicide detective in over two years.

  Outside the sun was shining, bringing the temperature to that lovely sixty degrees the meteorologist had forecast on last night’s news. Laney took her time walking back to City Hall. Jennifer Fraley was right about everyone seeing what they wanted to see when they looked at Shutter Lake. Beauty, tranquility, happiness.

  Except the residents of this town were mere humans, just like Laney, just like Fraley. All humans had weaknesses, most had secrets.

  Sylvia Cole had secrets just like everyone else. It was looking more and more like one or more of her secrets had gotten her killed.

  All Laney had to do was figure out which secret it was and she would find the killer.

  As horrible as the murder was, as shaken as the entire community was…how were they going to react when they discovered that the killer was one of them?

  Chapter Eight

  Troy leaned back in his seat, set the rocker in motion with his feet. He loved sitting on his front porch this time of day. His gardens and small vineyard were done for the season. He was always sad when the last of the vegetables and grapes had been harvested. The work occupied his hands and his mind.

  He clasped his hands in his lap. Shivered a bit no matter that he’d pulled on a fleece-lined jacket over his flannel shirt. But it wasn’t the temperature that chilled his bones. An ache pierced him so thoroughly he lost his breath.

  Sylvia was dead.

  He closed his eyes and fought back the burn of tears. Sweet, sweet Sylvia.

  She was dead and it was his fault. He was certain. His eyes opened and he dragged in a rattling breath.

  Perhaps a cup of tea would warm him. He braced both hands on the wooden arms of the rocking chair and levered himself up. His body was thin and frail now and growing weaker all the time. For years he had suffered little or no symptoms of the Multiple Sclerosis now ravaging his body. He’d received the diagnosis ten years ago at age sixty. Late-onset, they called it. The drugs had warded off the worst issues for all that time, he supposed. But now, the weakness, tremors and myriad other symptoms were his constant companion. His doctor had already suggested that he consider live-in care for the near future. He hadn’t decided if he preferred the coming helplessness or a bullet to the brain.

  Sylvia had helped him for the past few years. She saw to it that his supplies were ordered and delivered from the supermarket and she personally picked up his prescriptions. Ms. Fernandez had assured him that the new woman coming to his home would take care of all his needs, but he wasn’t certain about this other woman yet.

  She stared at him. Crept around like a frightened child. She was not Sylvia.

  Sylvia was gone.

  His heart squeezed as he shuffled into the house. The new woman’s housekeeping skills were more than adequate but she had no personality. She brought no happiness to his home. He had looked forward to Sylvia’s weekly visits. He wouldn’t have cared if she hadn’t bothered with cleaning at all. Basking in her presence had been enough.

  By the time he made it to the kitchen he was panting. Hand trembling, he settled the kettle onto the stove eye and lit the flame beneath it with a twist of the knob. Slowly, he gathered a mug and the box of Earl Grey that was his favorite. Another struggle was required to reach the refrigerator and get the cream, then the sugar. Finally, he had everything he needed. The water had already started to boil, prompting that high-pitched whistle.

  Once he’d poured the water, he made his way to the living room and sat in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. He fumbled for the remote, turned on the gas logs. A few minutes were required to catch his breath, by then the tea was the perfect temperature for drinking.

  He should never have advised Sylvia and she would be alive today.

  Anguish raged through his soul. He had wanted to help her. He hadn’t wanted her to end up as miserable as his precious Madelyn had been. She had allowed those Hollywood elitists to keep knocking her down. More than once, before they met, she had been taken advantage of by th
e egotistical men who ran that town in those days. Bastards. They had beaten her down until she was nothing but a shell of the beauty she had once been.

  But then she and Troy had met. He helped her to rise above her painful past. He infused her with confidence and financed her work. When their angel, Madison, was born, their lives had been complete. Troy had been certain their lives were perfect. Except his precious wife was tricked into becoming involved with another of those bastards who ruled the industry with an iron fist. Too embarrassed to come to Troy for help, she had tried to extricate herself from the situation on her own. The bastard had hurt her and Troy had reacted. The man had no idea that Troy had once been a military assassin for the country of his birth. He studied this evil man, learned what he loved most—his secret male lover—and ended the lover’s life. But the man repaid him in spades. He took Madelyn and Madison from Troy. He’d even managed to lay the groundwork to cast enough suspicion to have the police believing Troy was the one who killed them.

  Coming here to this quiet place far away from the sea—away from the horror of his past—had given Troy a place to lock himself away. He’d sentenced himself to live in agony. God knew he had wanted to kill himself at least once everyday the past thirty years, but he had refused to let himself off so easily. Living with what he had done was his punishment. Then Sylvia came into his life.

  She had given him something to live for again.

  In return, he had killed her as surely as he had his beloved family.

  He remembered vividly the day he put the idea in her head. A terrible, terrible mistake.

  ~

  Five years ago…

  “You are a beautiful young woman, Sylvia. You should be sure to take care of yourself. Never allow anyone to rule you.”

  She laughed. Her laughter was like tinkling bells, soft and melodic. “Mr. Duval, I have never allowed anyone to rule me. Just ask my father.”