Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  “We’ll have to tell Truman,” she said, dumping the little pills back into the melatonin bottle. She shook the bottle like a castanet and raised her brow.

  “Tell him the fruits of our illegal search,” I muttered bitterly. “Maybe those are sleeping pills. Xavier must have been all jacked up on the natural high from the green tea and smoothies and needed something to come down to sleep each night.”

  A thought skittered through my head. Dakota had revealed that Roxanne used to drug her with sleeping pills on the set of Silverlake High. I tucked away that tidbit for later and vowed to clue Truman in.

  “I guess that’s it,” I said as we headed for the door.

  A little orange paw darted from under the bed.

  “Oh no! Soda, how did you sneak in here?” I crouched down and coaxed my naughty kitty from under the bed. “Adrienne will go insane if she finds you in her room.”

  My cat had a blue feather dangling from her jaws. I recognized it as the jaunty decoration from Adrienne’s cloche felt hat and shook my head.

  “Come on, sweetie. Adrienne could be back any minute. We need to get you out of here.” I finally succeeded in getting the bedraggled feather from my kitty, but she remained under the bed, batting around a small ball. She knocked it out from under the bed and it skittered across the delft carpet and rolled under a small desk.

  “What the heck is that?” Rachel bent to scoop up the ball, which proved to be a small sachet of netting tied with a ribbon.

  “It smells like Adrienne, all right.” Rachel handed the parcel to me. I gave it a tentative whiff. My sister was right. Adrienne left a trail of lavender and dew in her wake, her presence redolent of a Provençal meadow, all heather and poppies and cool blue light. The sachet was filled with crushed, dried flowers, leaves and stems in shades of purple, green, and olive.

  And red.

  The ribbon of the sachet was loose, as if it had been opened and retied. I pulled the satin with trembling fingers to get a closer look at the contents. There, amidst the fragrant herbs and petals, were fresh but wilted bleeding heart blooms.

  * * *

  Rachel snapped a picture of the smoking gun sachet with her cell phone. I shoved the perhaps lethal ball of herbs and fragrant flowers back under the bed. Together we hightailed it out of Adrienne’s room with Soda purring in my arms.

  “Ohmigod, she did it,” Rachel breathed. She placed a hand over her heart and rested against Adrienne’s now-shut door. “She tried to off Xavier!”

  “It does look bad,” I admitted. “We have to let Truman know what we found.”

  We carried Soda back to our third-floor apartment and called Truman, breathless from running up the back staircase.

  “He’s not in,” the police secretary said in a bored voice. “Do you want me to give him a message?”

  “Tell him we may have found the means to kill Xavier Morris,” I breathed. That got her attention, and she promised to pass the message along.

  “Let’s send him an email,” I suggested. I opened my laptop, and Rachel and I sat down on our couch in our light and airy crow’s-nest perch of an apartment, a cat on each of our laps. I marveled at how different it was in the quiet, soothing confines of the space our stager mother had decorated this fall. The apartment was fashioned as a Gulf Coast getaway, in shades of aqua, sunny yellow, melon, and lime. It was a welcome respite at the end of a long day to leave the lower levels of Thistle Park and retreat to my and Rachel’s own private space. Not for the first time this week, I regretted taking on Dakota and Beau’s wedding.

  My sister and I crafted a succinct email to Truman, admitting where we’d strayed and gone beyond the confines of a plain-sight search.

  “I feel better now it’s all in writing,” I said as I hit send. “Now there’s no wiggle room and twisting the facts to get something into evidence that we shouldn’t have really found.”

  “But we found the real goods thanks to you, cutie pie.” Rachel patted a sleeping Soda on the head. The Creamsicle-colored kitty cat earned scratches behind the ears for her role in uncovering Adrienne’s hidden stash of bleeding hearts.

  “I’m meeting Garrett for dinner tonight.” I glanced at my watch and headed off to get ready.

  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you tell him about Adrienne.” Rachel smiled drolly. “I wonder what he’ll do.”

  So do I.

  An hour later, Garrett picked me up and we entered the Greasy Spoon, a Port Quincy institution. The old-fashioned diner was decorated in black and gold with a checkered floor, squeaky, cracked vinyl booths, and enough chrome to outfit a fleet of 1957 Chevys. It was comfortably threadbare but sparkly clean, and the air was laden with the smells of delicious comfort foods.

  “What a day.” I leaned into Garrett as he helped me out of my coat. I rested my head on his broad chest for a moment and felt a few coils of stress release as he held me close. I wanted this wedding and the impending hubbub with Adrienne to all go away.

  “Mallory, Garrett. So nice to see you here.” The owner of the diner stopped at our booth with a grin and a fresh pot of fragrant coffee. “Thanks for giving us a call the morning after the Winter Ball. We were wondering why no one had shown up, and we’d prepared a breakfast feast for the girls and their dates. We were glad not to let it go to waste.” She poured two cups of the smooth, steaming brew and set down two menus.

  “It was a crazy morning, and you saved us with your breakfast delivery.” I shook my head ruefully. “I’ll never forget finding Ginger.”

  “They haven’t found her killer yet, I’ve heard.” The owner left us to our perusal of the menu with a sad shake of her head.

  “I’m worried about that investigation,” Garrett mused, closing his menu. I bet he’d be getting his usual, a Reuben sandwich and a cup of French onion soup. I pushed my menu to the side, having decided on a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. I needed something hot and gooey and comforting to combat the cold outside and my growing sense of trepidation about revealing to Garrett that Rachel and I had found something that would likely implicate Adrienne in her fiancé’s attempted murder.

  “The longer time passes, the less likely they’ll find Ginger’s killer.”

  “What I can’t understand,” I pondered after we’d put in our orders, “is how the two crimes could be linked.”

  “They might not be.” Garrett sighed and took a gulp of coffee. “It’s looking more like Ginger’s murder had something to do with her role as headmistress of the school. Perhaps it was that parent whose meeting she missed, Sterling Jennings. Or Helene.”

  “Or a random thief,” I chimed in. “The tiara is long gone, and everyone in town knew it would be at the Winter Ball.”

  “Whereas Xavier has his own set of enemies. There’s Iris, although Ellie herself seems to not care that he didn’t cast her all those years ago. And Dakota and Beau, who might not want this episode to air after all.”

  I thought of the lingerie in a size suspiciously not Dakota’s and renewed my interest in Beau as a possible suspect. But I couldn’t ignore the sachet filled with fresh bleeding hearts.

  “And then there’s Adrienne.” I blinked, gauging Garrett’s reaction.

  “Mallory—” Garrett’s face immediately took on an annoyed cast. But we were blessedly interrupted by the arrival of our food, fragrant and steaming and delicious looking. I used the opportunity to take a big, gooey bite of grilled cheese rather than defend myself.

  “It’s been a long time since I was with Adrienne—”

  I started to choke and sputter on my sandwich.

  “—but I know for sure she didn’t try to murder him. I’d bet my life on it.” Garrett sat back, satisfied, and took a vicious bite of his sandwich. A chill ran down my back. I didn’t want him betting his life now that Adrienne was the prime suspect.

  “I’ll never forgive Adrienne for walking out on Summer then waltzing back into her life once a year and breaking her heart.” He sighed and took another sw
ig of diner coffee. “But she’s tried to turn her life around and make something of herself for Summer’s benefit. I’m considering giving her a chance.”

  I felt my eyes grow wide and threaten to fall out of my head.

  “A chance to spend some more time with Summer,” he quickly amended, a sheepish grin on his face. “What on earth did you think I meant?”

  My heart began to decelerate from the rapid rat-a-tat-tat his misunderstood pronouncement had elicited. I thought of Garrett and Adrienne’s dinner together with the mystery ring. I felt my fear curdling to annoyance. I took a deep breath and launched in.

  “You probably should hear this from me first. Your dad asked me and Rachel to keep our eyes open when we straightened up the guests’ rooms this afternoon.”

  “You snooped on behalf of Truman?” Garrett shook his head in disgust and threw down his napkin. “Did you do anything illegal?”

  “I resent that!” I tossed my napkin as well, the corner landing in my tomato soup. An orange stain quickly crept up the cloth, spreading through the white fabric. “Of course I was above board, and I resent you’d think otherwise.”

  I won’t tell him about Rachel’s questionable tactics or the help we got from a certain adorable orange kitten.

  “I thought you were on the right side of the law.” Garrett’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he tore into a roll.

  “I just want to find out who put Xavier in a coma, and maybe who killed Ginger too. I used to defend people for a living, don’t forget.”

  “You were a corporate attorney, Mallory. It’s different from defending people’s criminal rights.”

  I had practiced some white-collar law when I’d worked at a big law firm, but I knew he was right. Still, it stung. I wasn’t trying to implicate anyone unfairly. I just wanted justice to be done, and for Truman to catch the killer.

  Or killers.

  My phone buzzed to announce a text.

  I reached for my phone, barely able to read the text from Truman before I fumbled it. The slim case clattered to the diner floor, skittering under the booth near Garrett’s foot. He retrieved my cell, a look of horror marring his craggy good looks.

  “Let’s go.” He tossed some twenties on the table and pulled me along after him. I barely had time to grab my coat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Truman had pulled out all the stops to arrest his granddaughter’s mother. Two cop cars blared their sirens and flashed their strobe lights in front of Thistle Park, sending red and blue patterns dancing across the snow like a demented aurora borealis.

  Garrett screeched to a halt. His Accord hit a patch of black ice and we spun in a circle in the driveway, coming to a halt just inches from the police vehicle.

  “Calm down,” I nearly shouted. My heart beat somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. “What’s done is done.”

  “I know my father, Mallory. And he’s letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment.”

  Truman’s personal feelings didn’t chop up a passel of bleeding hearts and hide them in a lavender sachet.

  Truman led Adrienne, weary and battle proud, down the steps from the porch. Maybe she’d known the arrest was coming. She’d showered and changed into another gorgeous blue outfit, this time an azure wool turtleneck and striped navy pants. She carried a small valise in powder-blue leather with her, as if she were about to jaunt off on a short weekend getaway, not languish in the Port Quincy jail.

  Garrett left his car turned catty-corner in the drive and nearly leapt from the driver’s side. He slipped on the ice in his haste to make it to the porch and gripped the sides of the flashing police car to steady himself. I slowly unlatched my seat belt and crept up the drive, my arms out for balance, apparently forgotten.

  “She didn’t do it.” Garrett arrived at the bottom stair panting and out of breath. A look of gratitude flashed in Adrienne’s eyes, and I saw the tight line of her shoulders relax a smidgen. “You have a half dozen other viable suspects, yet you’ve zeroed in on Adrienne.”

  “We have incontrovertible evidence,” Truman snorted, his breath creating a jet of white steam visible in the frigid night air. He glanced at me for a split second.

  “You shouldn’t have made Mallory part of your scheme to get back at Adrienne.” Garrett narrowed his eyes at his father and refused to glance my way. My breath caught in my throat. I resented Garrett thinking I’d been had by Truman just to find evidence implicating Adrienne.

  “Faith, bring Ms. Larson to the station for booking,” Truman commanded. Faith gently took Adrienne’s arm, which I noticed wasn’t cuffed, and led her to the back of a police car. Faith carefully maneuvered around Garrett’s abandoned Accord and drove away from Thistle Park, her lights still flashing.

  “It could have been Iris or Ellie,” Garrett began. He seemed eager to start exonerating Adrienne. “They’ve never gotten over Xavier not casting Ellie on that silly show. Or it could be Dakota. She agreed to be on this reality episode as a favor, but it’s been a disaster. Maybe she wanted to end things prematurely. And what about Roxanne? She’s in love with Xavier and now he’s engaged to Adrienne. Perhaps—”

  “You can stop playing defense attorney,” Truman snapped at his son. “You aren’t defending Adrienne.”

  Garrett let out a snort of derision. “I’m not representing her yet.”

  Truman took a step from the porch and met Garrett eye-to-nearly-identical-eye. His voice was low and quiet and serious as a grave. “I’ll tell you once, son. Stay out of it.”

  “And if I don’t?” Garrett took a step closer to Truman, a dangerous look in his hazel eyes. I wanted to scream, Stop it, you two! But some sixth sense cautioned me not to get involved.

  “You always let her twist you around your finger,” Truman muttered. “This is just like old times.”

  I gulped, my throat dropping to my stomach like a leaden ball.

  Garrett mercilessly diffused the situation, letting out a genuine, if not bitter, laugh.

  “Cut it out, Dad. If there’s one finger I can’t be twisted around, it’s hers.” He sighed and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “I just don’t think she did it.”

  A ribbon of relief threaded its way through my nerves.

  “And while you’ve arrested Adrienne, the real killer is on the loose somewhere in Port Quincy, maybe right here in this house.” Garrett looked up and up the front of the edifice to the widow’s walk and the thistle weather vane at the tippy top of the attic and back down to his father.

  I shivered and held my arms close around my middle, the cold suddenly cutting through my wool pea coat.

  “And I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Garrett suddenly seemed to remember me. He advanced down the stairs and pulled me close to him.

  “Adrienne is the mother of my child,” he continued. His voice dropped lower still and his hazel eyes reduced to slits. “But she’s also the woman who abandoned my daughter. And that I’ll never forget.”

  “Then you don’t need to represent her,” Truman gruffly announced, case closed.

  “Oh, I’ll be her defense attorney,” Garrett retorted, and I felt myself stiffen in his arms.

  “You haven’t been retained by her,” Truman sputtered. His face turned an angry tomato red.

  “I’ll offer my services.” Garrett flashed his father a triumphant smile. I usually loved Garrett’s chivalry and modern gallantry, but I didn’t appreciate those qualities tonight.

  Garrett gave me a rather perfunctory kiss on the cheek and headed back to his car, eager to start working on Adrienne’s defense.

  * * *

  “The producer called. They need a new host.” I sat stunned and stared at my cell phone. One day had passed since the host’s arrest. Adrienne had kept the network apprised about Xavier’s poisoning and coma. She’d been assigned to direct and host the rest of the episode despite being traumatized to the point of catatonia. I’d thought the episode would gently go away into that good night, but instead it was like
a zombie that couldn’t be squashed for good.

  “The show must go on,” Rachel dryly quipped.

  “But this is outrageous! Who will they find to fill in on such short notice?”

  A hungry gleam glinted in Rachel’s pretty green eyes.

  “Oh, no. Don’t even think about it.”

  “But why can’t I host?” Rachel was petulant. “Xavier said I was a natural. Besides”—she filled her eyes with maudlin sadness designed to pull my sisterly heartstrings—“you probably won’t agree for us to have our own destination show, so this is my last chance.”

  “Oh, good grief.” I hadn’t yet explored my own feelings about leaving Port Quincy half the year to jet around the world planning weddings for the Wedding Channel. Part of me was excited for the opportunity; the other part would miss Port Quincy dearly. I had looked forward to spending more time with my mother and stepfather, Doug, now that they were moving back to Pennsylvania, and I’d thought things were heating up between Garrett and me before Adrienne had arrived in town and clouded my view. And the choice wasn’t mine to make alone. Since the show offer so far was for Rachel and me we’d have to agree to go all in together or not at all.

  Unless Rachel succeeds in convincing the network to give her her own show.

  Nothing was ever simple. Including Rachel angling to host the rest of this episode of the cursed train wreck I Do.

  But the network had other ideas. They discovered one professional actress in the vicinity who’d starred in a few bit parts for television.

  “I knew this day would come! This is your big break, kiddo.” A mere hour later and Iris was strutting around the parlor like a peacock while Ellie sat in a chair getting her makeup done.

  Rachel pouted in the background after she grudgingly congratulated Ellie on landing the role as temporary host for the rest of this episode.

  “I’m not sure if this is the best idea,” Ellie mused as the makeup artists applied thick foundation to her already flawless complexion. “I won’t take time off from school to be on the show.”

  “We already worked it out with the producer,” Iris simpered, beside herself with excitement. “You’ll film each day after school is out.” She clasped her dimpled fingers together and two gushes of tears sprang from her lively close-set eyes. “It’s finally happened—you’ve been discovered at last!” It was more likely that Ellie had landed the part due to the continuing inclement weather, and the spotty flights from Los Angeles to Pittsburgh. The network didn’t want to risk sending out another actor or actress, and had settled on Ellie, who was already in town.