Paint the Town Dead

by Sybil Johnson

  Rory remembered nothing after that until she found herself in a dark space unsure where she was or how much time had passed. Before long, she became aware she was moving. She patted her pocket and discovered her cell phone was still there, but when she took it out, no bars shown on its display. Using it as a flashlight, she examined the tight space. When the light illuminated two twelve-packs of soda, she realized she was in the trunk of her own car.

  She groped with her hand in the area where she remembered the trunk release was and pulled. The latch released and she raised the trunk a fraction of an inch, filling her nostrils with the night air. She peeked out and discovered she was on a winding two-lane road that appeared to be deserted. With the only light coming from the moon and the taillights of her car, she couldn’t see much. If she squinted, she could just make out a hillside with scraggly looking vegetation on one side of the road and a sheer drop-off on the other. No signs told her where she was, but she guessed it was somewhere she wouldn’t be found for a long time.

  Rory groped around in the trunk until she found the roll of paper towels she’d bought earlier that day. She unrolled the towels and shoved the end out of the trunk, anchoring the roll under her body, hoping another car would see the fluttering white paper. When minutes passed and she still hadn’t seen any lights, she realized she was on her own.

  No houses, no cars, no cell reception, no hope.

  Rory opened the trunk wider and considered trying to climb out, but the car was going fast enough and the road was windy enough, she was afraid she’d end up over the cliff instead of on the pavement. She checked for cell service once again and almost crowed in triumph when a single bar appeared on the screen. She was dialing 911 when the car turned off the highway and slowed down. She dropped the phone and felt around for something to use to defend herself. The only things she could find were the twelve-packs and a tote bag filled with painting supplies.

  When the car stopped. and she heard footsteps coming toward the back, Rory shook a couple cans as best she could in the tight space. As soon as the trunk opened, she sprayed soda into Hulbert’s eyes. While he was clawing at his face, she grabbed the tote bag. Before she could position herself to swing it at him, he hauled her out of the trunk onto the dirt on the side of the road. She lost her grip on the bag and it dropped to the ground beside her.

  As Hulbert dragged her toward the edge of a sheer drop-off, she dug in her heels and flung a handful of dirt in his face. He released her long enough for her to kick him in his manly parts. Before he could recover, she snatched up the tote bag and smacked him on the side of the head.

  As he fell to the ground, she heard a police siren in the distance. When a patrol car arrived followed by Detective Green in his own vehicle, she was sitting on the dirt, leaning against the side of her car.

  “It’s about time you got here,” Rory said as she looked up at the detective’s relieved face.

  Chapter 31

  Two days later, Rory and Liz sat at a table near the snack shop at the base of the Vista Beach pier, overlooking the sand and the ocean beyond. With the afternoon sun shining down on them, they leaned back in their plastic chairs and watched beachgoers enjoying the beautiful summer day. From their spot on the pier, they could look down at a volleyball game in progress on the beach below.

  Rory took a sip of her lime diet Coke and watched a young mother who was introducing her toddler to the ocean. Clinging tightly to his mother’s hand, the child stood on the packed sand and giggled as waves splashed gently around his feet. “I wish Jasmine could be here. I miss her.”

  Liz patted her friend’s arm. “At least you found out who killed her. You have the satisfaction of knowing you helped bring her murderer to justice and stopped the sale of a dangerous weight loss product.”

  “I hear Blue Wave Investments is going to cough up the money to repair all the houses,” Rory said. “They decided it was cheaper to fix the ones that were damaged than to continue fighting.”

  “That’s smart, especially with all the bad publicity the Akaw’s gotten lately.”

  “Having the managing partner arrested didn’t help the hotel any. Brandy’s happy about the settlement. Her aunt’s house will be repaired, and they’ll be able to sell it to help pay for her care.”

  “Do you know what she plans on doing afterwards?”

  “Once her aunt is squared away, she and Peter are moving back to Riverside. They were happier there.” Rory looked over at her friend. “Are you handling the sale of the house?”

  “When the repairs are done. I’ve already got several potential buyers lined up. Do you think the two of them will get together?”

  “Eventually, though guilt may keep them apart for a while.”

  “What about Peter’s problems at work? Wasn’t he under investigation or something? Will he be able to get another job?” Liz asked.

  “He was never under investigation. That was just Nixie muddying the waters, trying to take the focus off her and her problems.”

  “Do you think she really stole that money?”

  “I think so. Money was tight after her husband died, and her situation hasn’t improved much. She still hasn’t paid that last invoice I sent her. But I doubt she’ll admit to the embezzlement. At least not until Gordon’s old enough to fend for himself. Family’s the most important thing to her.”

  “I suppose there’s no proof. Just Tempest’s accusations, which no one seems to take seriously.”

  “We could’ve had the proof if we’d realized in time. Jasmine found documents on Nixie’s laptop and printed them out, but Nixie took them back after Jasmine died. They were in the roller bag, hidden among the supplies, and we didn’t know it. I saw the folder in Nixie’s hands on Monday.”

  “Didn’t she claim not to know much about finances?”

  Rory snorted. “That’s what she wanted everyone to think. Did you hear? She’s taken in Ian’s son. Given him a place to stay on holidays when he’s home from college.”

  “Speaking of Ian, he confessed because he thought Nixie had killed Jasmine, right?”

  “That’s right. He knew about the embezzlement accusations.”

  Liz glanced toward the nearby street. “Here comes Miss Snoop.” She leaned over and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Guess what I heard. You know how Veronica had access to that security footage? Her source was one of the hotel employees. Nell ferreted him out. Cost him his job.” She rubbed her thumb over her fingers. “I guess a little moolah can get you anything.”

  Veronica crossed the bike path and strode toward them, her tote bag bouncing against her hip as she walked. She plunked down in one of the empty seats at the table. “You two are sure hard to find. Your mother told me you might be here, Rory.”

  “What did you want to see me about?”

  “I want to know if you’ll give me an exclusive. Talk to me about your ordeal at the hands of Hulbert Forster.” When Rory hesitated, Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been talking to another reporter? Did the Times call you?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’ll answer a few questions.”

  “Good.” The reporter pulled a notepad out of her tote bag. “I’ve heard the basic story. Just want to clear up a few things. So you’re on the loading dock with Hulbert. How did he subdue you? What are you, six feet? He’s shorter than you are.”

  “He’s stronger than he looks.” Rory thought back to the box he’d easily maneuvered out from under the table in the VivEco booth, one that she couldn’t even budge. “Then when he forced some GHB down my throat I was pretty easy to control. Don’t remember much after that. And then I ended up in the Angeles National Forest.”

  “LA’s favorite body dumping ground,” Liz said.

  Rory shuddered when she thought of her narrow escape. If Hulbert had succeeded in pushing her over the side, it would probably have been months before her body was found.

  “Uh-huh.” Veronica jotted something down in her notepad. “So you came to in
the trunk of your car. Tell me about that.”

  Outwardly calm but inwardly roiling, Rory related her ordeal to the reporter as briefly as possible.

  Veronica made another entry in her notebook, then turned to Liz. “Where do you come in?”

  “Rory called me from the loading dock. All I heard was this odd conversation she was having with Hulbert. It took me awhile to figure out what was going on, but once I did I immediately called Detective Green and explained what was happening. He used the GPS on Rory’s cell phone to find her.”

  “So Hulbert did all this just to protect his weight loss business?”

  “Not just that. He blamed me for Viveca’s death. If I hadn’t set that glass down, and she hadn’t picked it up...”

  “Okay, let’s talk about Jasmine’s murder. It’s not clear to me. Did Hulbert use the GHB from his weight loss product or her own medicine to give her the overdose?”

  “He used her own medicine,” Rory said. “He was trying to make it look like an accident.”

  “It almost worked,” Liz chimed in.

  “What about the soda bottle he drugged? Do the police have it?”

  Rory shook her head. “Hulbert disposed of it once he realized it could implicate him.”

  “I see. Viveca’s death really was an accident, right? He was gunning for you?” Veronica pointed her pen at Rory.

  “That’s right,” Rory said softly. A pang of guilt stabbed at her. If she hadn’t looked into her friend’s death, Viveca might still be alive. “He didn’t count on my not wanting to drink alcohol. Anyone could have picked up that glass once I set it down.”

  The reporter closed her notebook. “I think I have everything I need. I’d better get going and write this up.”

  As Veronica made her way up the hill toward the newspaper offices, she passed Detective Green and Mel coming in the opposite direction.

  “Here comes Marosia.” Liz cocked her head thoughtfully. “Or should they be Meltin?”

  Clad in shorts and t-shirts, the couple strolled toward them, hand in hand.

  “I guess they’re both off-duty.” Liz took a sip of her smoothie. “Is Mel still mad at you?”

  “Sort of. I don’t think we’ll be bosom buddies, but at least she’s talking to me now. I’m not sure I’d be quite so forgiving if I were her.”

  “We had a long talk. I told her you had no intention of telling her boyfriend about the accident and that you’d never suspect her of murder.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Rory said.

  “She doesn’t have to know that.”

  As soon as the couple reached the snack shop, they bought smoothies and headed over to join Rory and Liz.

  “May we?” Detective Green said.

  “Go ahead.” Rory nodded toward the empty chairs.

  After the couple settled into their seats, Rory looked at the detective.

  “What’s the word on Ian?” she said. “Will he be charged for his false confession?”

  “The D.A.’s not going to bother with that. He’ll be extradited to Washington state to face charges for that hit-and-run. His fellow investors will have to find a new manager for the Akaw,” he said between sips.

  “Nell seems to be doing a good job running the hotel,” Liz said. “Maybe she’ll get a permanent gig. Now that everything’s been settled with the protesters, it should be smoother sailing for her.”

  “I heard Nixie’s sticking by him,” Mel said. “I hope she’ll hold the convention again. I’d like to go to it without all this drama.”

  “Amen to that,” Rory said. “And Hulbert? What’s going to happen to him?”

  “The D.A.’s office is working out the charges. Hulbert has confessed to everything, even hiring Oscar Carlton to harass you to convince you to stop investigating.” The detective looked pointedly in Rory’s direction.

  “Ian also said the PI blackmailed him, didn’t he?” Liz said, trying to keep the focus off of her friend.

  “Between Hulbert and Ian we have a pretty good case against Carlton. He’ll certainly lose his PI’s license,” the detective said.

  “Has Oscar been arrested, then?” Rory asked. She hoped the PI was in jail. He still made her a little uneasy.

  “We tried, but he’s nowhere to be found. Fled the state as far as we can tell.”

  Rory breathed a sigh of relief and prayed the man would never come back.

  The four sat and talked about more pleasant things for a while, then Detective Green and Mel rose to go. “I’ll see you at your mom’s store sometime, right?” Mel said to Rory.

  Rory nodded, sensing the question was an olive branch and she was one step closer to mending fences with the woman.

  “I’m signed up for that class you’re teaching at the end of the month, Liz. The Halloween design,” Mel said. “Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint always has such interesting classes.”

  “Isn’t it a little too early in the year to be talking ghosts and goblins?” the detective asked.

  Mel shook her head as if to say some people would never understand. “If you’re going to be painting holiday designs you have to start early.”

  Rory and Liz nodded their heads in agreement.

  As the couple departed, hand in hand, Liz patted Rory’s arm sympathetically. “You could have had that, you know, if you’d made up your mind sooner. Dashing D likes you.”

  “I know,” Rory said wistfully. “Bad timing, I guess. I just wasn’t ready.”

  “But you are now?” Liz straightened up in her chair and stared hopefully at her friend.

  Rory nodded. Liz picked up her phone from where she’d put it on the table. “Have I got someone for you!”

  Author’s Note

  Narcolepsy. I’d heard the term over the years, but not until I saw a BBC documentary called “Nap Attack,” did I begin to understand what it meant.

  For those interested in firsthand accounts of the day-to-day challenges faced by people with the condition, I recommend reading Wide Awake and Dreaming: A Memoir of Narcolepsy by Julie Flygare and Narcolepsy: A Funny Disorder That’s No Laughing Matter by Marguerite J. Utley. Julie Flygare also has a website, julieflygare.com, that’s worth visiting.

  In creating Jasmine, I have tried to treat the condition with respect and understanding. I hope I have succeeded.

  About the Author

  Sybil Johnson’s love affair with reading began in kindergarten with “The Three Little Pigs.” Visits to the library introduced her to Encyclopedia Brown, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and a host of other characters. Fast forward to college where she continued reading while studying Computer Science. After a rewarding career in the computer industry, Sybil decided to try her hand at writing mysteries. Her short fiction has appeared in Mysterical-E and Spinetingler Magazine, among others. Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in Southern California where she enjoys tole painting, studying ancient languages and spending time with friends and family.

  In Case You Missed the 1st Book in the Series

  FATAL BRUSHSTROKE

  Sybil Johnson

  An Aurora Anderson Mystery (#1)

  A dead body in her garden and a homicide detective on her doorstep…

  Computer programmer and tole-painting enthusiast Aurora (Rory) Anderson doesn’t envision finding either when she steps outside to investigate the frenzied yipping coming from her own back yard. After all, she lives in Vista Beach, a quiet California beach community where violent crime is rare and murder even rarer.

  Suspicion falls on Rory when the body buried in her flowerbed turns out to be someone she knows—her tole-painting teacher, Hester Bouquet. Just two weeks before, Rory attended one of Hester’s weekend seminars, an unpleasant experience she vowed never to repeat. As evidence piles up against Rory, she embarks on a quest to identify the killer and clear her name. Can Rory unearth the truth before she encounters her own brush with death?

  Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon

  CLICK FOR FATAL BR
USHSTROKE

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  A Bodies of Art Mystery (#1)

  Laurel Beacham may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she has long since lost it digging herself out of trouble. Her father gambled and womanized his way through the family fortune before skiing off an Alp, leaving her with more tarnish than trust fund. Quick wits and connections have gained her a reputation as one of the world’s premier art recovery experts. The police may catch the thief, but she reclaims the missing masterpieces.

  The latest assignment, however, may be her undoing. Using every ounce of luck and larceny she possesses, Laurel must locate a priceless art icon and rescue a co-worker (and ex-lover) from a master criminal, all the while matching wits with a charming new nemesis. Unfortunately, he seems to know where the bodies are buried—and she prefers hers isn’t next.

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