Dyed and Gone

by Beth Yarnall

  Message received.

  Just how good a friend was little Miss Amber Kissy-face now? For sure they’d been more than friends in the past. The question was just how much of that past was leaking right on into the present, and exactly what kind of favor did she owe Alex? I suddenly realized that burning in the pit of my stomach was not churned-up stomach acid from the cab ride. It was flat-out, plain, old, ordinary jealousy.

  Huh.

  I’d been so wrapped up in freeing Vivian and finding Dhane’s and Trinity’s killer that I hadn’t been paying attention to what was in front of me. And I wasn’t talking about Amber’s fantastic backside. Alex had all but sketched me a picture of the way he felt about me, and while I’d tried to maintain my distance, it seemed my stupid old heart had gone ahead and decided it liked him without even discussing it with me first.

  And now here I was getting jealous over a guy I’d convinced myself I didn’t want.

  My life was well and truly awesome.

  I had to jog a bit to catch up with Alex and Amber, who was already working her magic to get us into the fortress. It was a good thing Juan Carlos wasn’t here to see this. He’d hurt himself coming up with one snarkalicious comment after another.

  The door Jerk and Shady had come through the last time I was here opened. A uniformed officer approached our little group. “Ms. Hooker? Detective Kennedy asked me to escort you back.”

  Amber turned her sparkly veneers on the policeman. “Thank you, Officer…?”

  “Hodgkins, ma’am. This way please.”

  We followed Officer Hodgkins through a maze of half cubicles. Double, triple, and one very conspicuous quadruple take rippled in our wake. Just about every male with a pulse—and a couple of rogue females—dropped what they were doing to get a gander at Amber. She must have been used to it because she didn’t even break stride or show any of the nervousness I felt for her.

  We were led to a room off a short hallway at the back of the building. Your basic interrogation room with a table, seating for four, and what I assumed was a two-way mirror. It looked like it had been ordered straight from the Police Show Drama catalog or something.

  “If you’ll have a seat in here, Detective Kennedy will be with you in a moment,” Officer Hodgkins informed us.

  “Thank you, Officer,” Amber replied, putting a little lip pout and boob tipping into it. Honestly, this woman didn’t even try to dispel the stereotype.

  I was so screwed.

  I tried to get Alex’s attention to tell him that maybe I didn’t need a lawyer after all. For sure I didn’t need one that looked like she’d break into a lap dance at any moment.

  But Alex’s eyes were all for Amber. I clenched my teeth together with a snap. Right in front of me. Um, hello! Girl you said you wanted more from sitting right here.

  “What’s your plan?” he asked her.

  Amber turned, doing that hair-tossing thing that made men’s tongues fall out of their mouths like a rolled-up rug. “I plan on protecting my client.” Sliding gracefully into the chair next to me, she finally gave me her attention. “From here on out, you run everything by me before you say it. If you have to sneeze, I want to know about it first. You let me do the talking for you. Got that?”

  I nodded, stuck between being impressed and wanting to rip her extensions out.

  Alex took the chair on the other side of me and grinned at Amber like he’d created her. “I told you she was good.”

  She hadn’t done anything except sway her hips and exploit her cleavage. Hell, I could’ve done that and I didn’t have a law degree. Men.

  The door opened, framing Platt’s massive bulk. “Well, my day just went from shit to shine. Hello, Ms. Hooker.”

  “Hello yourself, Detective Platt.” Amber leaned an elbow on the table, arching her shoulders forward, deepening her cleavage so much it looked like it could swipe credit cards. “Have you been working out?”

  Sucking in his considerable girth, Platt blushed and preened. “Well, I’ve been lifting weights some.”

  “I don’t think quarter-pound burgers count as weights,” Kennedy said, edging his way into the room. “My, my Ms. Smith, you do keep the best company, don’t you? Hello, Ms. Hooker, pleasure to see you again.” Kennedy dropped into the last empty chair. “Shall we get started?”

  “Who’s Ms. Smith?” Amber asked me.

  “It’s a long story,” I whispered to her. “But basically, it’s a nickname for me.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is there something there I need to know about?”

  “No.” Not really.

  The only one without a chair, Platt stood, looking like the loser in a game of musical chairs. He gave Kennedy a nasty look, then stormed out of the room. He came back with a chair and plopped down with so much force the chair groaned.

  Kennedy opened a folder and leafed through it as if he were paging through a magazine in a waiting room.

  Amber flipped her hair over her shoulder, drawing Platt’s leer. It seemed to have no effect on Kennedy. He continued to turn page after page, skimming each one as though he had nothing but time to kill.

  Finally he came to the last page and closed the folder. He pushed it away from him and looked straight at me. “We know you killed Trinity. What we don’t know is why.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amber clamped her hand on my arm. If it hadn’t been for that anchor, I would have leaped out of my chair and smacked Kennedy’s smug face.

  Releasing my arm slowly, Amber leaned back, causing the buttons on her blouse to gape. “Do you have a question for my client, Detective Kennedy?”

  Kennedy was either very self-disciplined or a eunuch, because his gaze never left me. Platt, however, was having trouble sitting still in his chair.

  “I have several,” Kennedy said. “We’ll start at the beginning and work our way through, shall we?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Why did you remove Dhane’s head and leave it in that bin of doll heads?”

  Fear expanded in my chest, leaving me no room to breath. I couldn’t hear for the whooshing in my ears. I must have made some kind of sound because both Alex and Amber turned toward me, concerned.

  Amber put her hands on my shoulders. “Azalea, are you all right?”

  I couldn’t breathe. The room narrowed, blackness zooming in. I tried to speak but could only gulp air.

  Amber shook me. “Azalea!” She patted my cheek, then shook me again. “She’s hyperventilating.”

  There was some scrambling. People were all talking at once. I gripped the edge of the table, trying not to collapse.

  And then Kennedy came up behind me and put a paper bag over my nose and mouth, his other hand on the back of my head. “Breathe, Azalea. That’s it.”

  Alex came into my line of vision. “Just breathe. You’ll be okay. Just breathe.” He rubbed the top of my thigh. “That’s my girl.”

  My breaths came a little easier.

  “Should we call an ambulance?” Platt asked.

  “She’s catching her breath. She’ll be fine in a moment,” Kennedy said. “That’s the way, Azalea. Better?”

  I bobbed my head as best I could with it clamped between Kennedy’s hands. The room brightened for me, the blackness receding. I could take in more air now that I wasn’t suffocating.

  “Okay. I’m going to remove the bag,” Kennedy said. “Breathe easy. Not too deeply. Nice and easy. How’s that?”

  “Better.”

  Kennedy leaned over me to see my face. “Would you like some water? Platt, get her a cup of water.”

  Platt made a huffing sound that reminded me of a tire losing air.

  “You can let go of her now,” Alex said, glaring at the way Kennedy stroked my hair.

  Kennedy dropped his hand but didn’t move away.

  Amber regarded me through narrowed eyes. “I want a moment with my client. Alone. Now.”

  Platt returned and placed a cup of water in front of me.

  “You heard the lady
. Everyone out,” Kennedy said, swiping the folder off the table.

  Alex made a move to sit back down in his chair.

  “That includes you,” Amber said to him.

  “Why can’t I stay?”

  “Because you’re not my client.” Amber pointed a red-tipped finger at the door. “Out.”

  Alex gave me a long, worried look before departing. Kennedy closed the door behind him, leaving Amber and me alone.

  “I’ve obviously not been properly informed. We’re going to remedy that right now. Start at the beginning and I mean the very beginning. You landed in Las Vegas on what day?” Amber asked.

  “Thursday.”

  “You got off the plane,” she prompted. “And then what?”

  “You want me to fill you in on every minute?”

  “Every single one. I want to know when you peed, what you ate and where, who you met, what you did and said. Everything.”

  I took a sip of water and began by picturing it all in my mind. The airport, waiting for our luggage, Juan Carlos making us take a picture at the baggage carousel with the WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS sign in the background, everything I could remember from the moment we landed until I met her in front of the police station. She took no notes, which worried me. I’d lived it and could hardly keep it all straight. How was she going to manage it?

  When I finished rehashing my trip, Amber looked at me for a long time, and then she asked, “What’s between you and Detective Kennedy?”

  “What? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Less than nothing.”

  “Uh-huh. And I’m Lady Gaga.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Let me put it to you this way…are you sleeping with him? Because I’d need to know.”

  I stared at her, my jaw gaping. Was she serious?

  “I take that as a no,” she said. “Interesting.” She looked off for a moment, tapping a long red nail on the table. A slow smile kicked up one corner of her mouth. “This is good. I can use this.”

  “Use what? What are you talking about?”

  She looked me up and down. “Not my look, but it certainly works for you.” She smiled. “Yes, I can definitely use this.” She reached into her briefcase, pulled out a compact, and handed it to me. “Fix yourself and touch up your lipstick if you have it with you.”

  “What does this have to do with Kennedy thinking I killed Dhane and Trinity?” Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. Just saying it made me woozy again.

  “Nothing whatsoever.” Her grin was so calculating it reminded me of a wicked stepmother.

  I did as she asked, applying another layer of fuchsia lipstick and swiping a light dusting of powder over my face.

  “Do you have any blush?” she asked. “Maybe a little eyeliner?”

  “No. What’s going on here?” I handed her the compact back and she clicked it shut.

  “You’ll see. Now sit up straight. That’s good.” She walked to the door, hesitating for one more up and down look at me. “Remember, let me do the talking.” She opened the door, leaning against the frame like she was posing for a cover shot. “Come on in, boys.”

  The three men shuffled into the room. Platt had gotten himself a cup of coffee and a big fat bear claw. It looked kinda good until he took a giant bite and chewed with his mouth open. Weight Watchers had nothing on this guy. He was a human binge deterrent.

  When everyone was seated around the table again, Amber spoke, “In answer to your earlier question: my client is saddened by the tragic deaths of both Dhane and Trinity.”

  Kennedy turned his bad-cop stare on me. “What were you really doing in the hallway after Dhane’s death? The real reason.”

  “My client had been invited to the suite of the deceased by the deceased. As I’m sure you’ve already verified with the witness who gave her the note and the key card to the suite.” Pretending to pat her mouth over an exaggerated yawn, Amber rolled her eyes. “Let me know when you get to the part where you have real evidence against my client.”

  Kennedy’s mouth pinched. “I find it odd that Ms. March was there at every turn of this case.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “When Dhane’s head was found. When Dhane’s body was found. At Dhane’s memorial service.” He opened the file in front of him. “She visited Trinity the day of Dhane’s death. And she was the one who found Trinity’s body.”

  Amber examined her nails. “Do you have a question, Detective?”

  Kennedy slammed the file shut, directing his anger and frustration at me. “Why are you so involved with this case? Why can’t you stay out of it?” He got up and paced, running a hand through his hair. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he pulled up. He took a deep breath and turned back to me. “How’s this for a question: why did you kill Trinity?”

  I gasped. He truly believed I couldn’ve done such a horrible, violent thing. The edges of my vision began to darken again and their voices got very far away.

  “I’m sure you’re being ridden like a pony at a kid’s party to find the person or persons who committed these terrible acts.” Amber leaned across the table, her shrewdness sharp enough to cut the steel table. “You know my client is innocent. What you want to know is what she knows. So why don’t you just ask?”

  Kennedy glared hard at me, popping me back from the edge of hysteria. “I did.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t do it nicely. A lady likes to be asked, not threatened. My client is more than willing to assist the Las Vegas police department in any way she can.”

  “She can start with answering my question.” Kennedy turned his attention back to me. “Why did you kill Trinity?”

  Again with the tunnel. All of this zooming in and out was making me nauseous. I fisted my hands so hard my fingernails bit into my palms. The pain seemed to ground me, but if Kennedy accused me of murder one more time, I was sure I’d keel over onto the floor.

  Amber sighed, her enormous chest rising and falling like a groundswell. “Really, Detective? I thought we covered this.”

  Kennedy riffled through his file and pulled out two photographs. “Maybe this will relieve your boredom.”

  He placed the photos side by side in front of me, watching me closely. The first one was a picture of Trinity lying on the rooftop. The pool of blood under her head was dark and sticky-looking, but her face was unmarred. In the stillness of death, her features softened, her beauty perfect and fragile. Curio rested next to her outstretched hand as if she were reaching for him or had just let go. My chest hitched and I clasped a hand over my mouth to catch the sob before it escaped.

  Kennedy tapped the second photo, drawing my attention to it. It was a close-up of Trinity’s hand. Nestled in her palm was a small pink flower. I looked up at Kennedy, confused.

  “Recognize it?” he asked.

  “I—”

  Amber interrupted with a hand on my arm. “What is your point here?”

  “If Ms. March didn’t kill Trinity, then how’d the flower from her hair end up in Trinity’s hand?”

  Oh, God.

  Picking up the two photographs, Amber examined them for herself. “Looks like a flower anyone could purchase from any craft store.” She stacked the pictures and handed them back to Kennedy.

  “Certainly. But how many of those flowers will have strands of your client’s hair on them?”

  Platt let out a we-got-you-now chuckle and I started to sway a little in my seat.

  “That may or may not be my client’s flower. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “It’ll matter to a jury,” Platt said, finally getting in the game now that it looked like it might be a win.

  “Still doesn’t matter,” Amber said.

  Kennedy focused all of his attention on Amber for the first time, a frown lining the space between his brows. “Is that so?”

  “Evidence or no, the way I see it, you’ve got a major problem with your theory.” Amber’s mouth curved into the kind of smile that sent men into battle
. “And you know it.”

  Platt glanced back and forth between Kennedy and Amber, trying to sort out what they were talking about. For the first time since I’d met Platt, I found myself identifying with him. Which made me want to gag.

  “And just what is it you think I know?” Kennedy asked.

  “My client couldn’t have possibly killed that poor girl because she has an alibi.”

  Platt glared at Kennedy. “What is she talking about?”

  Kennedy leaned against the wall next to the mirror and regarded his reflection as though he were looking through it to someone on the other side.

  With no answer from Kennedy, Platt turned his question on Amber. “What are you talking about?”

  Amber’s gaze met Kennedy’s in the mirror. She arched a brow.

  “I’m her alibi,” Kennedy answered.

  My lungs finally filled with air and I could almost feel my limbs again. I had an alibi!

  “You?” Platt looked like he’d need a bypass.

  “What’s he talking about?” Alex asked me, speaking for the first time.

  Amber held up a hand to silence him. “That’s correct, Detective,” she said to Kennedy. “Whoever killed that girl went out of their way to frame my client for it. I don’t envy you.” She shook her head, casually rearranging her hair. “You not only have to solve two murders, but you also have to protect my client. There’s no telling what kind of danger she might be in.”

  Amber’s words spread a strange coldness through me. I might be in danger? I reached for Alex. He wrapped my hand in both of his, sealing it in warmth. I couldn’t look at him, afraid I’d see my own worry and panic reflected back at me. I stared down at the blunt shine of the table, allowing the conversation to go on without me. Whoever had killed Trinity and possibly Dhane had now set their sights on me. I’d inserted myself into the case, so why was I so surprised now to find myself at the center of it all?

  The image of Trinity’s hand holding my flower like she’d just picked it swamped me with guilt. Was it my fault Trinity was dead? Was the flower supposed to be a message for me? Had I gone too far, pushed too hard?

  Would the murderer kill again? And if so, was I next?