My Sister's Murderer

by Liv Bennett

  “Great.” As customary for him, he runs his eyes down my chest for a quick peek before landing them back on my face. Is he so naïve as to think his glance will go unnoticed? “Let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me.”

  “I definitely will. Thank you.”

  The phone is still buzzing in my palm, and I answer it as soon as Max is out of sight. “Hi, Dad. I can’t talk right now. I’m at work.”

  “Sorry, honey. I’ll be quick.”

  I scan around quickly. Lena is at the bar; Fran isn’t around, and Erin is taking an order from a customer who’s watching something on his phone. When I narrow my eyes, I realize it’s porn. The poor soul must think he’s being discreet, but I have a direct view of his screen over his shoulder.

  “All right,” I say.

  “Tara told me the issue with Officer Murphy. I thought it’d be a good idea to give you a description of him for your appointment with the sheriff. He was about my height, six feet but muscular. He had a full head of short brown hair and blue eyes.”

  My heart leaps to my throat. Austin has brown hair and blue eyes with a muscular figure, although he’s easily six feet four. “All right, I’ll remember to mention his description to the sheriff. Was there anything else, Dad?”

  “Yeah, he had a southern drawl.” Austin doesn’t! But, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t fake one.

  I make a mental note of his description and promise to talk to him later before disconnecting.

  How on earth did my father end up getting a report from a police officer who doesn’t exist? I’ll have to discuss it further with him later when I have him on the phone at a more convenient time.

  Lunchtime passes with only eight tables occupied. One woman with three kids, all under the age of five stays for two full hours, with the kids taking turns at crying. Lena jokes about dropping vodka into their sippy cups to get them to calm down. The customers at the other tables leave quickly with meager tips, including the porn guy.

  Despite my best efforts, my mind strays back to Austin, and my gaze remains glued to the door for several hours, my hopes surging each time it opens, my heart sinking hard when he doesn’t show up.

  Thankfully, staring at a door has its limits. I get tired of it and accept defeat. He’s not showing up at my work, and that’s okay. I didn’t come to Boulder to hook up with some guy, even one as gentlemanly as he was with me on the highway.

  When the lunchtime business dies down, Lena shows up at the front desk and pushes me aside with her hip while folding napkins around silverware. “So, you’re dating the Knight guy.”

  Just when I was trying to divert my attention to something else! “We just went out once. That’s all.” That might really be all. I shrug, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

  “Just a friendly warning, he’s not what he looks like from the outside.” Since when does Lena give out friendly warnings?

  “Why?”

  “I shouldn’t say.” She gives her head a quick shake, her voice low, her face etched with a fake look of hesitation. More than anything, she’s just enjoying her moment of piquing my curiosity.

  “Come on. You can’t do that.”

  “All right. All right.” She glances around for eavesdroppers before leaning closer to me “There’s a rumor around town about his family’s involvement in the drug business for several generations. His father and grandfather own half the county due to drug money.”

  My jaw drops. Corvettes don’t come cheap. Austin’s father’s wild success in several business areas isn’t because of his strong business intuition. But, I should keep in mind this may very well be Lena’s cheap trick to keep me away from Austin.

  “That’s a serious accusation. It can’t be true,” I say to prompt her to talk more.

  She frowns, annoyed at being called a liar even if only by implication. “Ask any long-time local here. Everyone is suspicious of them.”

  “I don’t know any long-time local.”

  “Just be careful is all I’m saying. You don’t have to believe the rest.” She calls Fran to finish up the napkin folding and disappears into the kitchen.

  I feel nervous all of a sudden about being alone with Fran. I’ve been neglecting my investigation of her thanks to Austin occupying the majority of my headspace.

  “Hi.” I give her an awkward smile.

  She chuckles. “Hi again. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Stay cool! “I think Lena just got upset with me, but I don’t know what I did to upset her.”

  She waves a hand in the air. “Don’t worry. She has her ups and downs, but she’s a cool girl overall.”

  “I hope so.” I reach for a napkin and start folding with her. “I’m looking for a room to rent. Do you know anyone looking for a roommate? Or…are you looking for one?” Wow, that one was absurdly direct.

  She looks at me dumbfounded, before returning her gaze to the silverware. “I’m not. Not right now. But, I’ll ask around.”

  Something dies inside me. There goes my chance of meeting the people who potentially caused my sister’s death. Moving in with Fran was the crux of my plan. After all, Ruby killed herself while sharing a condo with her. “That’d be cool. The Boulder rental market is tough to crack.”

  “Yeah, but there’s Lafayette and Gunbarrel only fifteen, twenty minutes away.”

  Easy for her to say. “I know, but it’s not like living in Boulder.”

  “I know,” she says with an irritated tone and hurries to finish wrapping the napkins and gathers them inside the box, leaving me without saying a word. I guess I won’t win the popular co-worker contest today.

  Erin exits the kitchen with a family-size chicken pizza, and we settle by the table closest to the entrance to keep an eye out on patrons. After the pancakes for breakfast, I don’t have any appetite for pizza, but I gobble down two slices as we start a lively discussion about sci-fi books and movies.

  Erin asks if I want to join her for a hike on our free day. I only give her a tentative yes, as I’m hoping that day will be spent with Austin although he seems to be a no-show today.

  The evening turns crazy as the restaurant gets packed with a convoy of out-of-towners who’re visiting the university for a physics conference. Oddly enough, the majority of them are men with glasses.

  Max orders me to take over three tables, each with eight patrons. They binge on locally brewed beer and buffalo wings and leave me generous tips. At the end of my shift, I count one hundred, forty dollars on my restroom break before heading out. There’s nothing like cash to turn a measly day into a good one.

  “Wow, you must be having a good night.” Fran walks into the bathroom with a hint of edginess in her voice, her eyes large and staring at the wad of cash I’m trying to stuff into my purse.

  “Mostly one dollar bills,” I reply as I slide into my jacket. “How was your night?”

  “Twenty bucks.” She continues talking as she enters a stall. “I had a customer who tipped me exactly nothing. Apparently, she was on a diet and got offended by the size of the pizza she’d ordered herself; our fully loaded deep-dish pizza.”

  “Did she eat the whole pizza?”

  She shouts, “What do you think?”

  “Jesus. She’ll claim you forced her to do it in her review.”

  “I bet she will. I mean why go to a pizza joint while on a diet? Go eat at a sushi restaurant or something.”

  My phone starts buzzing right then. I put my purse by the sink to rummage through it to get my phone. It’s not in there. Leaving my purse, I run my hands over the pockets of my jacket and locate the phone in the left one.

  The call is from my father. “Dad, everything all right?” I see Fran coming out of the stall and step out of the bathroom for privacy.

  “Ashley, I just remembered, the officer I talked with had a tattoo on one of his wrists. I found it strange that a law enforcement officer would have tattoos.”

  “Do you remember the shape of the tattoo?”


  “It was just words, but I can’t remember what they said. I was in a moment of shock.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s great you could remember so many details. I’ll mention your description to the sheriff tomorrow. You might have to drive up here to identify him, though.”

  “Of course, I will. Is your shift over?”

  “Yeah, I was getting ready to leave.” I start toward the exit but come to a sudden stop when I realize I don’t have my purse. I make a quick U-turn toward the bathroom. “How are you holding up?” I ask my dad.

  “Not great, I’m afraid. Some days are easier than others.”

  “It’ll get easier to put everything behind us once we know the full truth,” I say to encourage him.

  “I hope so. You be safe out there.”

  “I will.”

  “Tara says to please call her regularly.”

  I bet her regularly means every two hours. “All right, good night, Dad. I love you.” I don’t even know why I said that, but the dial tone that comes on immediately gives me hope that my father didn’t hear my shameful words.

  The bathroom light is off when I pull open the door. My purse is exactly where I left it. I grab it and head straight back to the exit. On my way out, I wave at Erin, who seems to be in deep conversation with Max.

  My eyes search the sidewalk for Austin as I walk to my car parked in the underground garage a few blocks away.

  Can there be any truth in Lena’s gossip? If Austin’s family is indeed into drugs, there may be a real, tangible connection between Ruby’s death and him. But, how? The last thing Ruby would get herself involved in is drugs. Then again, suicide wouldn’t exactly be high up on her list of favorite activities either.

  Austin doesn’t show up on the street or at my hotel. I enter my room with my head hanging down on my chest. Nothing came of my police report inquiry, and Fran had no interest in me as a roommate. That could make or break my plan to get information on Ruby’s death. Austin’s absence was just the last straw.

  At least, the tips I got will give me some room to breathe financially. I fish the bills out of my purse to put them in my safe. They feel awfully meager between my fingers. I frown and start recounting them. Fifty-five dollars? That’s eighty-five dollars less than the last time I counted them, which was in the restaurant’s bathroom just before Fran walked in.

  I jolt up on my seat. Have I just been robbed? The girl practically looked me in the eye before stealing my hard-earned money. I made easily fifty rounds between the kitchen and the tables to make that money.

  Worst of all, I’m clueless about what to do about it. I can’t exactly make a complaint about her to the management without getting her fired. I need her close to me where I can observe her.

  Still, I don’t want to let it go, either. I’d have lent her the money if she’d asked me and explained why she needed it. Hell, if she was in desperate need, I’d have given her all of my tips for the night. I know what it feels like to go to sleep on an empty stomach or to be unsure whether I’d have a roof over my head the next day.

  I slip the fifty-five dollars back into my purse, my successful night not feeling like an accomplishment anymore.

  Sliding open the closet door, I grab Tara’s journal from my suitcase. The super soft, super expensive cardigan is hanging neatly above the suitcase, reminding me of the night I had with Austin. My heart sinks, knowing all too well that was my last night with him. The cardigan must belong to the unlucky girl before me, while he’s probably out having more fun with the next girl.

  With a sigh, I settle back on my bed and start flipping through the pages in search for any information about Fran. I have a nagging sense the same thing happened to Ruby as well. I’d pay everything I made tonight to find out how she’d have responded to Fran’s thievery. She’d probably have overlooked it. Her big bank account and even bigger heart would have made it easy for her to see past a friend’s mistake.

  Tara didn’t include anything relevant in the journal. Ruby would never reveal such a scary incident to them to keep them from worrying about her. My father wouldn’t hesitate to show up with his revolver at the restaurant to bring about justice for his daughter.

  As much as I hate to be treated like a fool, I’ll have to let this one go. I don’t have any solid proof of her stealing, and I should keep her at arm’s length for as long as I can.

  When I come to the end of Tara’s scribbles empty-handed, I reach for my purse and dig out the police report on Natasha’s Royal’s death. She was found the morning following her suicide by a man who had his name redacted from the report. Her close friends and family stated they were not aware of her drug consumption, although the police discovered several traces of Fentanyl and other recreational drugs in her room.

  Ignorant about all things drugs, I google Fentanyl and find a photo comparison of it to heroin that shows it to be much deadlier than heroin, as much as thirty times more potent. Heroin is already dangerous enough. The girl either didn’t measure the dosage well or wanted a certain and painless way to die.

  That way must have been more humane and kinder for the people left behind.

  I read the report three times, and each time, I become more convinced there’s no connection between Natasha Royal’s death and my sister’s other than the unpredictability of the circumstances. Then again, isn’t the death of a young person predictable in only a few circumstances?

  Slipping the police report into Tara’s journal, I drop it in the suitcase and fire up the internet browser on my phone. My fingers are quick to type Austin’s name in the search box, and I hate myself for wasting time and effort over a man who doesn’t deserve my interest.

  I find Lena’s Facebook page and go over the photos Austin liked. He even commented great pic on a photo of her showing her ass in white see-through yoga pants while pretending to enjoy the view of Boulder from Flagstaff. Staring at her semi-nude poses deepens my frustration. Angry at myself, I put the phone on the nightstand and slide under the comforter.

  Ch 10

  The Real Thief

  My sleep is interrupted by nightmares. Each time I awaken and try to fall back asleep, I decide to confront Fran about her stealing. It’s eighty-five dollars, damn it! Three weeks’ worth of grocery money.

  When I think it through, I change my mind. I don’t know her story. She might be desperate for cash. Who knows what she’s going through.

  I wake up like a zombie with groggy eyes, deep dark circles, and a puffy face. I look like a crack ho, and having a cold shower doesn’t help. Skipping breakfast, I binge on water and find solace at the gym with a one-hour workout that causes my body to hurt so badly, I forget my misery about my daily grind.

  The coach, Robert, approaches me with an encouraging look on his face as if he’s about to hand me a trophy. “You did great today. Honestly, I thought you were never coming back after the first session.”

  I laugh, which is a challenge while trying to catch my breath. “I can’t say I didn’t consider that option,” I say as a joke. The truth is, despite the physical exhaustion, my mood is exponentially better, and I feel ramped up for the long shift ahead.

  “Never consider it. The more you do it, the easier it’ll get.”

  “My body doesn’t agree.” I bend down to rub my thighs which feel too tight to move even after rolling them on a foam roller and notice the blonde cougar with fake tits shooting me a nasty how dare you talk to the coach glare.

  “Do you have our booklet on nutrition?” Robert asks, but before he can get an answer, he gets a call from the blonde cougar.

  “Hey Robert, I need help with stretching. Will you be a darling and come help me?” she calls out with her enormous lips. I stare at them dumbfounded. She must have had them filled recently, as they cover half her face.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Robert asks on his way toward the cougar.

  “I’ll try.” I wave at him and grab my purse, heading to the exit. Despite the heavy sweat I’m sportin
g, I linger in the lobby, pretending to be checking something on my phone on the chance of bumping into Austin like the last time I was here.

  After everyone at my session leaves and a new session starts, I show myself out while trying to keep my head up and drive back to the hotel for a quick shower.

  My heart sinks when my eyes start searching for him in the lobby, in the restaurant, even in the business center. Damn it!

  He’s not there. He’s not anywhere. He knows where I live, where I work, and even where I go to work out. He has plenty of ways to reach me. He doesn’t. I should hang it up.

  As soon as I step into the elevator, I forbid myself any thought of him. From this point on, Austin Knight doesn’t exist. We had a good time, but that was it.

  Returning to my room, my anger flares all over again about being robbed, ruining the rush of positive feelings from the workout. I take a quick shower and get my stuff ready for my appointment with the sheriff.

  My nine-thirty appointment ends up being pushed to ten-fifteen due to an unexpected visit from some high-ranking politician. The visitor might as well be the governor of Colorado; I wouldn’t know. I’m clueless when it comes to politicians.

  When the sheriff finally accepts me, he seems in a hurry, yet apologetic for having to make me wait. I give him a one-minute rundown of my issue with the non-existent Officer Murphy who claimed to conduct the investigation into my sister’s death, including the details my father provided about his looks.

  Perhaps out of courtesy, the sheriff repeats my problem back to me to make sure he got all the points correctly and then calls an officer to help me officially file a report so they can investigate it.

  I laugh at the irony inwardly. While trying to access the police report of my sister’s death, I end up having to file a report myself.

  I repeat the same lines to the officer—Officer Nate Johnson as he introduces himself—this time quicker with several glances at my phone. As soon as he prints out the report, I scribble my signature on it and go rushing out of the office to make it on time for work.