The Collector (Emergence Book 1)

by Kelly Lynn Colby

  With a shaky hand, I took a generous sip on the tart margarita. A drip spilled on my glove and wicked off the velvet. That gave me a brilliant idea for catching a glimpse of the angry man’s arms. In an exaggerated slip, I spilled the rest of my drink on his long-sleeved shirt.

  Chapter Ten

  He yelled and jumped back a step. “What are you doing, you clumsy drunk?”

  His ire punched my gut as if he’d actually hit me. The pain was so intense I feared my intestines had ruptured.

  Gina stepped in and pulled a cloth from her bag to pat at his arm. “I’m so sorry, sir. My friend’s not feeling well.”

  She seemed to have whatever was needed in that bag. Her penchant for preparedness came in handy; this time more than most. Before he yanked his arm from her, I got a good look at his forearm as the liquid made the white material translucent. Smooth, unblemished skin brushed against the sticky, salty stain. The only damage I could pick out was bruising on the knuckles of his right hand. That could be from anything.

  An odd mix of disappointment and relief washed through me which helped to unclench my stomach. I certainly had no intention of confronting a killer, but I had hoped to solve this mystery and bring Albert’s murderer to justice.

  In my steady, sober voice, I pulled Angry Man’s attention from Gina. “I apologize, sir. These are new heels and I’m afraid they don’t fit quite right. May I buy you a drink as an apology?”

  “No.” His definitive answer and haunting blue eyes told me the man was beyond reason. He might not be the murderer, but I could feel violence in his movements.

  Gina stared at my feet with obvious confusion on her face. Then she met my eye with an almost Amelia accusation. She knew I was lying and that I’d spilled that drink on purpose. Crap. Now I had to come up with some sort of explanation.

  The older lady excused herself from Detective Flores and made her way to the register. Before I could figure out how to hide, Flores made eye contact with me. His instant scowl made him look like my high school principal about to chastise me for being in the hallway between classes.

  I wasn’t ready for this. How guilty must I have looked having found a murder victim—whom I claimed to not know—then showing up a couple days later at an event held for the same man. I knew Collins already suspected me of being involved. And here I was, verifying his doubts of my innocence. Well, it was too late to turn back now. I might as well learn what I could.

  As the older woman sorted herself behind the counter, I realized she wore a lanyard around her neck with her name: “Rhonda Turgerson, Owner.”

  She must have known Albert. She was hosting his show and now a benefit after his death. Maybe she could tell me something else about him.

  Her voice sounded quiet, but authoritative. “What can I help you with, Mr. Elstin? We are about to start the auction, if you’d like to have a seat.”

  “I don’t want any of that man’s garbage in my house.” The angry man stretched his neck and stood over the petite woman as much as he could from the other side of the counter. “I wish to consign this piece to the auction. It should be worth a pretty penny since he’s dead.”

  “That’s a very interesting statement.” To her credit, Mrs. Turgerson didn’t look a bit cowed by his aggressive demands. She gently unwrapped the thick paper and plastic covering the piece. “How is your fist doing?”

  Detective Flores, who stood close to the counter seemingly paying no attention to what was going on, perked up and glanced down at the man’s bruised hand. Turgerson nodded at Flores’s lifted eyebrow.

  Interesting. They knew something I didn’t. Well, they probably knew a lot of things I didn’t. I needed to get Mrs. Turgerson alone and see if I could gleam anything from her. I wondered if she knew of Albert’s curse.

  Then his voice drifted up from the statue. It sounded more ghostly to me than it had the first time I heard it in the small shop. Don’t fight it. Embrace your gift and come find me. So, the statues I was able to get close to in this exhibit didn’t have his voice, but the one Angry Man Elstin returned did.

  More clues; still zero answers.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Elstin.” Mrs. Turgerson flipped through a book and placed her finger on an entry. “According to our records, this particular art belongs to Dr. Debra Elstin. I’m afraid if I purchased it from you, your wife could report it as stolen goods. I will not risk my impeccable reputation.”

  Mr. Elstin slammed his hand on the counter. “It’s not stolen. It’s ours. It sat in our living room taunting me.”

  Flores casually adjusted his lanyard with his badge. “What happened to your hand, Mr. Elstin?”

  After shoving his hands in his pocket, Mr. Elstin took a step back from the counter. “What are you suggesting?” His eyes went from the stoic Mrs. Turgerson to the calm Detective Flores. “He deserved it. He was fucking my wife. I didn’t kill him, but I’m certainly not upset he’s dead.”

  His loud statement muffled the crowd better than any gavel on an auction block. In my mind, I raised the volume of my mom’s voice. I had to stifle the cramping in my gut by warding as much of his anger as possible. I was not running away in pain when I was about to learn more about Albert.

  With all eyes looking our way, Mrs. Turgerson calmly re-wrapped the statue. “I will call Dr. Elstin to pick up her property.” Having dismissed Mr. Elstin, she turned to Flores. “If I think of anything else, I’ll be sure to give you a call, Detective.”

  Man, I had to hand it to her. That woman was queen of her kingdom and she knew how to wield that power.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Detective Flores motioned Mr. Elstin toward the door. “Let’s take this outside.”

  Mr. Elstin hesitated. “But, my property?”

  Flores herded Mr. Elstin to the front door simply by walking toward him. “Well, according to Mrs. Turgerson’s records, that’s stolen property.”

  Collins’s voice behind me startled me into Gina. “Stolen property? Let’s take it down to the precinct and get it all straightened out.” He brandished his hand cuffs like he was checking for the time on his watch.

  Flores had a quiet authority about him, like a stern dad you didn’t want to disappoint. Collins, on the other hand, felt like the Harvey Dent in this partnership. I could picture him getting a confession with his fists.

  The crowd murmurs picked up again. Though I suspected this time, it had little to do with the art and much more to do with the current dramatic performance. This could be my chance to talk to Mrs. Turgerson. Or if I could get to her computer, I could get information on Dr. Debra Elstin. If she was having an affair with Albert, she might have more answers for me. After all, she had one of his statues that called out to cursed people. It couldn’t just be a coincidence, right?

  Cursed people. I can’t believe I just thought that. There really could be more of us.

  As Collins took control of escorting Mr. Elstin out the door, Flores turned his attention to me.

  “No, dammit.” My foot tapped on the floor.

  “What?” Gina watched Flores approaching with her head tilted. My nipples tingled at Gina’s lustful feelings. “I mean, I’ll talk to him if you don’t want to.”

  If only she knew the truth. I really should’ve told her. My mind swam in circles as Flores approached. I had other things to worry about right now, like staying involved without becoming a stronger suspect. “Detective Flores.” So witty of me.

  “Ms. Young.” Flores put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

  The badge around his neck bounced as his chest flexed under his smartly ironed shirt. I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle the man. I wondered if I’d have any better luck trying to outmaneuver him. So far, not so good.

  His accusatory look made me feel I needed to defend myself. “I’m allowed to be here.”

  “How did you find this place?”

  I cocked my head. His suspicions were starting to annoy me. “Um, in the modern world they have this thing called the internet. I sear
ched for the Collector and voilà, the auction popped up.”

  “And you didn’t think to come here first instead of his apartment in the middle of the night?” His phone re-appeared in his hand as he jotted down more notes.

  My balance shifted from foot to foot as I fought the urge to run away. “I only knew him as Albert Johnson. I didn’t know he was called the Collector until…” Until you told me at the scene. This whole damn thing sounded suspicious to me too.

  Flores continued, “So, you weren’t here at the show on Saturday?”

  My arms folded against my chest as my anger rose. “I already told you I was out with friends and gave you their info.”

  Gina raised her hand beside me. “I have no idea what’s going on,” her pointed look told me she expected to be filled in later, “but, I happen to be one of those friends, and we were out clubbing until almost midnight.”

  Flores turned his deep brown eyes to my friend. “And your name is?”

  “Gina Nguyen.”

  His fingers flew over his phone. I had to come up with a reason to still be interested in this case. I couldn’t very well tell Flores the artist was cursed like me, and I couldn’t walk away until I learned everything I could.

  “Look. I’m the one who found him and now I feel responsible for finding who did it.”

  Flores’s dark eyes studied me though his face still angled down toward his phone. “That’s my job.”

  “Well…” I had no idea what to say. My stomach rumbled with anxiety.

  Mrs. Turgerson startled me when she spoke from my side. Man, I was jumpy today. “We’re about to begin, Detective. If you don’t mind?” She indicated the door with a slight tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow.

  Flores tucked his phone into his jacket. “Of course, Mrs. Turgerson. Before I go, I want to verify that Mr. Elstin is the man you said punched Albert Johnson Saturday night.”

  She nodded. “Ted will send over the surveillance video to the email you gave me after we’ve concluded the auction. He’s busy organizing the online portion of the show.”

  Flores’s shoulders tensed. I didn’t feel anything in the air around him. It was almost like going blind. I couldn’t guess what he felt about me as a suspect or the case at all. He had to be used to keeping everything tightly under control.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Turgerson.”

  His tone made me picture a cowboy in an old western. I half expected him to touch his non-existent ten-gallon hat as he made for the door. As he opened it, I fell into my old enemy—indecision. Should I rush after him and try and convince him to keep me in the loop or stay behind and try to get information out of Mrs. Turgerson? One look at the older woman’s face told me that was a no-go. Flores, at least, had suspicions about my involvement. Maybe he’d keep me close to simply learn more about what I knew?

  Gina tapped me on my gloved hand. “What was that all about?”

  I blinked at her like I’d forgotten she was there, which maybe I had a little. I was a horrible friend. “I’m sorry, Gina. I have to ask that detective something.”

  My heels clipped on the floor as I rushed to catch up to Flores. Without turning around to see Gina, I knew she was pissed when I heard her glass hit the bar top a bit too roughly as she asked for the card back again. I’d make it up to her later.

  Flores held the door open for me as if he’d never stopped watching me. In the parking lot, Collins talked to Elstin next to a marked car. The suspect wasn’t cuffed yet, but Collins still held the metal restraints in his hand.

  “This is bullshit,” Angry Man Elstin blustered. “I didn’t do anything. The Collector was the jerk. Have you checked all of his other customers’ husbands? There’s probably a long list of families he destroyed.”

  Collins seemed to side with Elstin, though he never stopped swinging the cuffs in his fingers. “Artists, right? They think because they play like kindergarteners all day, that makes them irresistible.”

  Elstin sneered. “Exactly. And this Albert guy was the worst. After my wife brought home that ugly piece of shit, she was obsessed with the man. I know they were meeting secretly. I followed them one night and she left her car at his condo and got into his.”

  Collins snorted. “Naturally, they went to a hotel, didn’t they?”

  Flores had taken out his phone and started taking notes. I swore he was paying more attention to me than Elstin though.

  “Oh, they definitely did, but I lost them and didn’t see which one.” Elstin waved at the gallery. “So, I followed her to his show and confronted him. When he smugly denied everything, I lost it.” His hands clenched in fists. “But I didn’t kill him.”

  Collins dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. “Of course not, because you have an alibi. I’m sure you and the missus went home to air out your grievances and make up.”

  Elstin’s jerky motions ceased, as he looked up with fear in his eyes. “Not exactly. We drove in separate cars and Debra refused to answer her phone. She didn’t come home that night at all.”

  Flores said next to me. “Do you recognize him from anywhere?”

  He wanted to know if I’d seen Elstin that night? I wondered if that cleared me as a suspect in his eyes. “He doesn’t have the scars on his arms.”

  His scrunched eyes at my answer left me doubting my own conclusions.

  Luckily, Gina came out and shoved my purse against my chest to save me from melting under Flores’s scrutiny.

  Collins turned Elstin around to get the cuffs on him. “Maybe you did; maybe you didn’t. We’ll work it all out downtown.”

  Elstin’s bluster faded. “Why? I told you everything.”

  “You did.” Collins nodded as the uniformed office tucked Elstin into the back seat of his squad car. “You told us you have motive, knew where the guy lived, and have no alibi for the night in question.”

  As the squad car pulled away, Collins turned to Flores and cracked his knuckles. “Are we taking anyone else in?”

  Without looking back at me, Flores shook his head. “That’s it for today.”

  As the detectives pulled away in their navy blue Ford Fusion, my mind swam with helplessness again. Gina didn’t let me dwell there for long though.

  She whipped me around by my elbow. “What is going on?”

  I rubbed the velvet of my long glove over my forehead. There was no keeping her out of it, and when I told her Amelia would know too. I might as well tell them both at once. “Let’s call Amelia. There’s something I need to tell you both.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Our favorite late-night diner was Kenny and Ziggy’s out by the Galleria. Though technically not late yet, I thought meeting here would remind Gina and Amelia what good friends we were. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too angry that I hadn’t told them what I’d seen Sunday or that I’d been keeping a secret from them all these years.

  I munched a fresh pickle out of a tiny bowl to keep my eyes anywhere but on Gina. Not that I could see her face right now, since she was buried in the plastic menu the size of a yearbook.

  I tried to lighten the mood. “You already know what you’re ordering.” If Gina Nguyen ordered anything besides the Swiss and Shout—basically a Reuben but with turkey pastrami—the world would probably come to an end. Though the humungous portions meant she only nibbled a bit and took the rest home. I’d be willing to bet it fed her all week.

  “Hmph,” was all she said.

  I preferred to explore the menu. Cooking was one of my outlets, the way I could express my love for my friends. Since I avoided touching them, hugs were rare. I could, however, fill their plates with homemade goodness or surprise them at work with a hot plate of food.

  Right now, I think I needed something warm and comforting. I hadn’t opened up like I planned to do now since my mother died. The velvet of the same gloves I wore to that event suddenly felt oppressive, even in the air-conditioned space. I took them off and set them in my lap.

  Gina peered to the side of the me
nu at me.

  I had to say something. “Look. I’m sorry. As soon as Amelia—”

  “As soon as Amelia what?”

  I jumped as Amelia’s presence filled the space right before her body did. She moved past me and sat beside Gina who folded the menu and her arms in one smooth movement.

  “Uh oh, I missed something.” Amelia waved over Stella, our regular waitress. I didn’t know if that was her real name or if she was just living up to the New York accent she affected. Again, I didn’t know if that was real or part of the act either, but we loved her just the same.

  As Stella bent over to drop off a fresh bowl of pickles, her chest practically touched the table. Everything about her was petite, her height, her waist, her tiny hands, and button nose, except for her gray-streaked hair. Always pulled back in a ponytail, it swayed all the way down passed the tie of her apron.

  “What can I get you girls tonight?” Stella cocked her hip and pointed her pen at Amelia. “When you came in, I had to check the calendar to make sure it wasn’t Wednesday or Saturday.”

  This was turning out to be anything but an ordinary week. “Gina and I went to an art show tonight.”

  Stella whistled and motioned to the TV over the deli counter. “Did you see that poor artist who was murdered in his home this weekend? It’s just not safe out there.”

  “You know, I hadn’t heard of a murdered artist until we arrived at the art show. If only we’d gone to look at the art, it might have been fun.” Gina handed her menu over to Stella. “I’ll have a slice of strawberry cheesecake please.”

  Uh oh, maybe the world was coming to an end.

  “Whew.” Amelia’s face opened in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat dessert here.”

  With her arms re-crossed, Gina responded, “I’ve never been confronted by policemen while out with my friend either.”

  How much was I going to confess? Obviously, I had to tell them that I found Albert, but what about the curse? I couldn’t lose them. They were my only family.