The Trouble with Murder

by Kathy Krevat

  “What do you want?” I demanded, amazed that my voice didn’t quake.

  “I’m here to ask you some questions, or you can come down to the station.” He tried to keep his voice matter of fact, but he was enjoying himself.

  “Why?” I asked, my insides beginning to quiver in the face of his nastiness. “I was cleared. You know I didn’t kill Twila.”

  “Yeah, well, we got ourselves a whole ’nother murder,” he said, satisfaction oozing through his voice. “And this one has your name all over it.”

  Another murder? A feeling of dread stunned me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That’s what we have to discuss,” he said, grabbing my arm. “Come with me.”

  I wrenched my arm away and backed into the house. “Come back with a warrant. Or with Norma. Cause I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  In what seemed like a split second, he had slammed me to the floor, put his knee in my back, and twisted my hands behind me. I screamed, and Trouble came flying out from the kitchen with a snarl that sounded as loud as a leopard. She leapt onto Little’s head and he was forced to let go of my arm halfway through handcuffing me.

  Then things started happening in slow motion. I heard Elliott yell, “Mom!” at the same time Lani screeched, “Get off her!” Both reached Little at the same time, pushing him off me while he was trying to unfasten Trouble from his head.

  Little tumbled and Trouble landed easily, turning to attack again. I scrambled backwards and got to my feet. Then Little grabbed his gun and stood up in one smooth move, pointing it right at us.

  “Just everybody calm down,” I yelled and then repeated it more calmly, my voice shaking. I’d never been more terrified in my life.

  Little’s gun filled my vision, seeming as big as a missile launcher. I spread out my arms, the handcuff dangling from one of them, and slowly took a few steps so that Elliott and Lani were behind me. “You really don’t want to do that. We are three unarmed civilians.”

  His eyes were steaming mad and blood oozed from a scratch at the top of his forehead. “You’re all under arrest for assaulting a police officer,” he yelled.

  “Detective Little,” Norma spoke firmly from the doorway.

  I used my peripheral vision to see her standing with Detective Ragnor, who had his hand on his gun. Lani, Elliott, and I didn’t move a muscle.

  “Holster your weapon,” Norma said. “Now,” she added at a much lower octave when he didn’t respond immediately.

  I held my breath until he reluctantly followed her order. Then Ragnor grabbed him by the arm to drag him outside. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked Little.

  “You all okay?” Norma asked.

  I pulled Elliott into my arms and hugged him tight, crying.

  Lani hugged him as well, making a little Elliott sandwich, and then she pulled herself up straight and said, “I’d like to file a complaint. Police brutality.”

  Norma nodded. “I understand,” she said. “But you might want to hold off a bit.” She looked at Elliott and then asked me, “Can I speak to you in the kitchen?”

  I nodded, letting Lani take over the whole hugging tight thing, and followed her, wiping my tears away with shaking hands.

  “We found the man who threatened you,” she said, completely professional. Then she ruined the whole thing by handing me a tissue.

  I blew my nose. “Really? Did he tell you why he was harassing us?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “He didn’t say much at all.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “He’s dead.”

  Chapter 16

  I couldn’t take anymore. I collapsed into a chair and put my head down on the table. “Where?” I asked. “When?” My mind was spinning. “Is that what Little was talking about?” With more time, I was sure to come up with more questions.

  “He was found shot to death in the Sunnyside Lake Park. The station got an anonymous phone call implicating you. That was followed up by an email with a photo attached.” She was telling me just the facts, but I could tell she was holding something back.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Can I see the picture?”

  She pulled it up on her phone. It was a photo of me facing him down outside the ice cream shop. I enlarged the part that showed me. My hands were in fists and I look enraged, certainly mad enough to kill. Only the back of his head was shown.

  “The detective jumped to conclusions,” she said.

  “How about coming to a different conclusion about why someone was even taking this photo?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  “This just shows the back of his head,” I said. “How did he know it was the same guy?”

  “There’s a distinctive indentation on the back of his head,” she said.

  I shuddered. “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “We’re not sure yet,” she said. “He was stripped of ID and his fingerprints aren’t in the system. A black SUV was seen speeding away during the night but the body wasn’t found until a hiker stumbled across it this morning. The first officer on the scene recognized him from your sketch. And then the phone call and email came in.”

  I shook my head, my face still scrunched against the table. “This makes no sense at all.”

  “I need to ask,” Norma said, “where were you last night between the hours of midnight and two am?”

  “Luckily for me, I guess, I was in the hospital with my dad,” I said. “I’m sure there’s about a zillion security cameras there that can verify it. And the nursing staff.”

  “That’s good,” Norma said. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle Little.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “He’s losing his freakin’ mind.”

  She shrugged. “It’s complicated.” She filled me in on the phone call Little had mentioned in his testosterone-filled scene outside our house when he’d backed down from Norma and Detective Ragnor. On the night of Twila’s someone had called the station and left an anonymous message that they’d seen me hiding something in the garbage can. That, combined with my dad and me finding the body, led to Norma being able to get a search warrant so quickly. Even though her gut told her we didn’t kill Twila, she had to follow procedure.

  But Little had the opposite reaction. His gut told him we were involved and he just couldn’t let go. So when the second anonymous call came in, he thought he had me.

  Norma tried to explain. “Sometimes police decide that their intuition is more important than the evidence. They could believe someone is guilty when all the evidence is pointing the other way.”

  “Are they usually macho jerks?” I asked.

  She smiled, but didn’t agree out loud. “Sometimes it works the other way. He, or she, can believe someone is innocent when they’re not.”

  “What’s going to happen to Little?” I asked.

  “He’ll be disciplined,” she said. “Severely.”

  “That doesn’t help Elliott.’

  She nodded her head toward my son who was acting out what happened for Ragnor, pretending to be Little and then switching to playing Lani, me, and Trouble. “He looks like he’s bouncing back.”

  * * * *

  Sunnyside didn’t have a lot of murders, so two in such a short period of time was big news.

  Elliott insisted on going to camp, thinking that late was better than never, and Lani insisted on dropping him off. The only reason they’d been at home in time to see Little attack me was because Elliott had forgotten his voice recorder that helped him learn his lines. Since they had extra time, they’d returned to get it.

  Norma had told Elliott not to talk about what happened that morning to anyone. I didn’t know how he could keep it a secret.

  Some part of me was relieved that Tall Bald Man wasn’t around to scare us, but that made me feel terrible. Even if
he was a big bully, he was a real person, and he was dead.

  * * * *

  I thought I knew what tired felt like, but the emotional toll of the encounter with Little on top of the last couple of nights in the hospital with my dad had me tumbling into bed in bright daylight and asleep as soon as I pulled up the covers.

  I’d set my alarm for one hour but woke up two hours later with no memory of turning the alarm off. My phone had two text messages from Annie letting me know that she was hanging with my dad and that he seemed fine, despite his fever.

  Norma had returned our phones and computers. They were all charged and I wondered if they’d been able to read any messages we’d sent and received. I picked up my dad’s phone and saw a message from Gypsy Sue, something about visiting him in the hospital.

  What? Sue from the farmers’ markets knew my dad?

  I could only see the first line of the last couple of messages on the screen, so I decided to see if I could break my dad’s password. It was pretty easy—Elliott’s birthday. It didn’t occur to me until it worked that maybe I shouldn’t be invading my dad’s privacy.

  I ignored everything else but the history of messages with Sue. She had arranged to visit him when I wasn’t there. What was that about? I scrolled through. The messages showed that they were friends. The messages on the phone went back over a year, but it was clear they knew each other far longer.

  I thought back to how I’d met Sue when she was a new volunteer with the nonprofit for teen moms. I always thought it was a lucky coincidence that we’d been matched up. Did she know my dad back then?

  After downing a second cup of coffee, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I called her using my dad’s phone.

  “Hey, big guy,” she said.

  I was silent a moment. “This is Colbie.”

  “Oh.” I could imagine her covering the phone and swearing.

  “You want to tell me anything?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer for a minute. “You should talk to your dad.”

  “Really? While he’s in the hospital?” I asked. “Have you been spying on me all these years?”

  “Colbie,” she said. “You know me better than that.” She paused. “Your dad wanted to make sure you were safe and cared for. And you have been.”

  I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. “He asked you to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You don’t need to be psychic to know the answer to that,” she said. “He loves you.”

  I shook my head in bewilderment, my anger dying away. “Can you start at the beginning?”

  She didn’t say anything for long time. “I think that’s a conversation you need to have with your dad, when he’s feeling better.”

  I didn’t say anthing.

  “Just know that he was always there for you.”

  * * * *

  Did my dad put Sue in my life? I remembered all the times Sue had magically fixed problems for us. Finding me the job at the apartment complex when I aged out of the single mothers program. Encouraging me to start my own business. Had that really been my dad pulling the strings in order to help me out?

  I swallowed to get rid of the lump of regret in my throat, and changed gears to save my sanity. When my dad was home, we’d talk. I packaged up my back-logged orders and dropped them off to be shipped, which was really the rock bottom of being a responsible business owner. I should be doing so much more, especially with the Twomey’s decision hanging over my head.

  A responsible business owner certainly shouldn’t be calling the number on the Lice Club Lady card and leaving a message asking for an emergency appointment for lunch time. But then, most responsible business owners didn’t have their family threatened.

  I had to admit to myself that I was being a bit stubborn. Okay, maybe more than a bit. No one believed I’d killed Twila. Well, maybe some piece of Little’s tiny brain still thought there was a chance. But I couldn’t let it go. No matter how much I argued with myself that Norma was a thorough and competent detective, here I was, taking steps to find out more about someone who probably wasn’t a suspect, but might know something that would lead to the suspect. And a big part of me believed that we wouldn’t be safe until the killer was found.

  I received a call back a few minutes later from a young woman asking if a noon lice check appointment worked for me. Her voice wasn’t familiar at all—she wasn’t an SPM member.

  She gave me weird instructions. “You’ll drive to Rushdall Park where you’ll park and walk across the lawn to the wooden fence. Turn left and follow the fence until you come to a gate on your right. I’ll open it right before your appointment and meet you there.”

  “Okay,” I said, drawing it out. “This is like spy stuff. What’s the big deal?”

  “We go the extra mile to guarantee our customers’ privacy,” she said in a reassuring tone. “I’ll see you at twelve.”

  A responsible business owner certainly wouldn’t find herself at the Rushdall Park a little before noon, walking past the nearly empty playground that even the most dedicated parent wouldn’t brave in this heat, and standing at the gate as it opened a few minutes before noon. And she wouldn’t be following a young lady dressed in light blue scrubs through a private backyard lined with trees on both sides so there was no way for a neighbor to see in.

  And yet, here I was. Walking through a rear entrance to someone’s garage that had been renovated to look just like a regular hair salon. Except instead of assorted scissors and fancy brushes, the counter held a bunch of combs in disinfectant and a squeeze bottle.

  “Whose property is this?” I asked.

  “I actually don’t know,” she said. “My boss rents it.” She turned the hair salon chair around. “Please take a seat.”

  She opened a cabinet and pulled out a large jug, and poured some of it in the squeeze bottle. The smell of lavender mixed with a woody scent filled the salon. I peeked inside and saw fabric covered boxes.

  Was this Sharon’s work? If so, maybe she knew who the Lice Club Lady was.

  Then I remembered something Fawn said. That Sharon had done work for her other business.

  “This salon is perfect,” I said. “You wouldn’t even know it was originally a garage. And it’s so well organized.”

  “The owner had a professional do it.” The technician applied the oil to my hair and combed it through, parting it to examine a section of my scalp. “So far, so good,” she said. “No indication of any creatures.”

  “That’s great.” I continued to play along. “My head has been itching like crazy ever since I heard about the outbreak.”

  “This treatment is very soothing,” she said. “Even if you don’t have a problem, it’ll make your scalp feel better.” She continued combing and checking the comb after each stroke.

  “Do you know who did the job here?” I asked. “My dad could use help with his garage.”

  “Something like Soldier Closet maybe?” she said. “I could ask the owner for you.”

  I was right! Sharon’s closet business was Closet Commando. “That’s okay. I’ll Google that.” I waited while she combed through another section of my hair. “So this is an interesting job to have,” I said. “How did you get it?”

  “Through a special program for foster kids,” she said.

  Foster youth? Fawn ran a nonprofit that found jobs for foster youth.

  That nailed it. Fawn was the Lice Club Lady.

  * * * *

  I called Lani as soon as I hiked back through the park and made it to the car. “Do you know who the Lice Club Lady is?” I asked, as the air conditioner brought the temperature down to a bearable level.

  “No,” she answered. “Did you figure it out?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s your good friend Fawn.”

  “Wow.�
�� She took a minute to think it through. “She really is excellent at keeping secrets. Maybe it’s all that life coach training.”

  “Lani,” I said. “I asked her straight out and she didn’t answer me. Maybe she has something to hide.”

  “I can’t imagine Fawn hurting anyone,” Lani insisted and then relented. “But I guess you should ask her if she’s hiding anything that would help.”

  “I’m going to see her now,” I said. “Oh, shoot. The SPM moms will be there soon. Sharon’s holding an open house to show off Fawn’s garage.” And I needed to talk to Fawn in private.

  “Do you know when you say SPM moms, you’re really saying Sunnyside Power Moms Moms?” Lani asked.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just easier.”

  “I’m going to call Piper and see if that brat knew this whole time and didn’t tell me,” Lani said.

  “And I’m going to suck it up and talk to Fawn on the way to the Farmers’ Market, even if I have to get her away from the other SPM moms. She has to answer my questions, whether she likes it or not.” Stopping there was going to make me late for the market again. Two weeks in a row—the manager would be really unhappy with me now. But I’d deal with that later. And this way, I’d be able to pick up Elliott from camp and take him with me to help.

  “You go girl,” Lani cheered. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  I went home to pack up my car with everything I needed for the farmers’ market, hustled Trouble into her cat carrier, and drove over to Fawn’s. I had to park a few doors down, and since I couldn’t leave the cat in the car, I dragged the carrier with me.

  Lani had texted that Piper didn’t know and didn’t care who the Lice Club Lady was. She did good work and anything that helped prevent the spread of lice was welcomed.

  I put down the cat to text back. She’s not worried about the secrecy aspect?

  Nope, Lani texted back. People are bound to be embarrassed. If the treatments reduce the problem, it’s all good with her.

  I could tell something was going on as soon as I walked up the driveway. Gina, Fawn, and Daria were all there, standing in the perfect garage and staring at me with baleful looks, while Sharon was demonstrating how efficient her garage closet designs were to a woman I didn’t know.