“How dare you!”
“Mr. Masterson,” Heather said, firmly. “I’m here to talk about the death of a young woman, not throw insults.”
Shawn’s mouth twitched, and he sniffed, then strode around to the other side of his front counter. He rested his forearms on the wood and stared her down. “What do you want to know?”
“What was your relationship with Isabella Hunt?” Heather asked, and brought her notepad and pen out of her back pocket. She really should’ve bought a tablet for this kind of thing.
She clicked her ballpoint and scrawled Shawn’s name across the top of the page. The ink blotched and smudged, and Heather clicked her tongue.
“She was my student,” Shawn replied, and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
“Just a student?” Heather asked. She wouldn’t tell him that she’d found the private note.
“Yeah, just a student. I’m dating her sister, Sophia, so I guess you could say I knew the twins a little better than the other students, but not by much. Isabella,” Shawn said, then gulped and gazed out of the spotless front windows of his door. “She was something special on the dance floor. Flawless. The best lines I’ve ever seen in a dancer. So graceful and purposeful. Confidence filled her every move.” He rolled his right wrist and shut his eyes for a second. “That’s why I chose her as the lead in the show.”
“So, you thought she was talented,” Heather said, then scratched the word ‘liar’ at the top of the page, just below his name. The ink blotched again.
“She was talented,” Shawn replied, and his eyes snapped open. “Oh, her talent was limitless, but her attitude stank. I caught her bullying some of the other women in the class.”
“Bullying? Aren’t these chicks like twenty years old?” Amy asked, and lifted and apple from a barrel. She examined it, carefully.
“Bullies don’t have age groups,” Shawn said, sagely. “I’ve seen a lot of women in my years as a teacher, and you wouldn’t believe the mean spirits in some of them.”
Heather scribbled notes on her page. “So, she didn’t get on with the other girls?”
“Not in the slightest. And the fact that the representative from the American Ballet Theatre was on the way, yeah, that didn’t help. Let’s just say. The afternoon practices were tense.” Shawn shook his head, then sniffed. “Still, I don’t understand why anyone would hurt her.”
“Apart from the bad attitude and the jealousy, you mean,” Amy said, and dropped the apple back amongst its rosy-cheeked fellows.
“And you were the one who found her?” Heather asked.
“Yes,” Shawn replied, and covered his eyes. “Yes, it was horrible. She was at the bottom of the stairs and –”
“Did you see anything else? Anything at all? Anyone else?”
Shawn dropped his hand and stared her dead in the eye, unblinking. “No.”
“Mr. Masterson –”
“We’re done now,” he said and sliced his hand through the air. “I have work to get to.”
Amy flinched and picked up another apple. “Whatever you say, dude,” she replied, then took a massive bite. She gestured with the half-eaten apple. “Don’t leave town.”
Chapter 4
Heather lay on the sofa with her feet in Ryan’s lap and her gaze glued to the TV screen. Another documentary, this time about the Gaboon Viper, played in silence. She had to think.
Pamela had called the minute she’d gotten home from her interview with salty Mr. Masterson. She’d set a date for the house inspection, and that meant Heather had some shopping to do.
“Do you want to talk about the case?” Ryan asked, and shifted his head on the sofa. He rolled it to the side and looked at her. “I have news.”
“Sure, anything is better than the brick wall I hit today. Shawn Masterson was less than friendly. Less than happy to see me, as well.” Heather sighed and sat upright, then curled her legs beneath her.
Dave trotted into the living room. He wagged his tail at them, then hopped up onto his favorite spot beside Heather. He turned in a circle before he settled into a comfy little ball of fur.
“There were only three sets of fingerprints at the top of those stairs, apart from the victim’s. And no fingerprints on the scuffed murder weapon. I expected more because it’s a school and I figured that the ladies would be up and down all the time,” Ryan said, he scratched his stubble, and it rasped beneath his nails.
“Who did they belong to?” Heather asked. She scratched Dave between the ears, and he huffed out a happy sigh.
“Our three main suspects, as of now. One set was Shawn Masterson’s. The other belonged to Sophia Hunt, and the final set belonged to the mysterious roommate, a woman by the name of Hailey Jaine.”
“Also a dancer?” Heather asked.
“That’s correct. The twins and Miss Jaine live in the same apartment building. I’ll give you the address if you haven’t sleuthed it out already,” Ryan said, then chuckled. “Although, you look like you’ve got other things on your mind.”
Heather tilted her head to the side and nodded once. “I do, but that’s beside the point.” She had to remain focused. The sooner she cleared up her thoughts on the case, the easier it would be to focus on donuts and the most important meeting of her life, to come. “So, our main suspects are Shawn, Sophia, and this Hailey Jaine woman.”
“That’s right,” Ryan replied.
Heather scooched forward and grabbed her bottled water off the coffee table. She unscrewed the cap, then took a long drink.
“And that’s not all. The victim had significant grazing on her neck. Came up in the autopsy and I’m glad it did because I didn’t notice it at the scene,” Ryan replied. His brow furrowed.
“You’ve got that look. The same kind you had at the start of the Cheeky’s Nail Salon case.”
“Yeah, because I know where the graze came from. Isabella had a necklace clutched in her right hand.”
Heather sucked her bottom lip and drew in air through her nostrils. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You see it too? She ripped off her necklace. The grazing on her neck was consistent with the pattern of the chain. She ripped it off with enough force to leave a mark, directly before she fell.”
Heather put the water bottle down on the coffee table, then clasped her hands together. Her brain ticked over the facts and this new puzzle. “She was hit from behind and fell down the stairs. She ripped off the necklace with force beforehand.”
“Correct,” Ryan said.
“A fight!” Heather jumped to her feet and paced toward the image of the scaly viper coiled in brown grass. “It had to be. It’s the only possibility which makes sense. She saw her killer before she died.”
“You mean, like a verbal altercation?” Ryan asked, and his eyes widened. “That makes sense.” He rose from the sofa, as well and paced over to her.
Dave perked up and watched them, gaze tracking their movements across the living room carpet as if they’d transformed into walking donuts – his favorite treat.
“Let’s set the stage here,” Heather said and positioned herself across from her husband. “I’m standing at the top of the stairs and arguing with you. I reach up and grab the necklace, rip it off, then turn to storm off.”
“And then the attacked whacks Isabella on the back of the head in a rage. A crime of passion,” Ryan said, then clicked his fingers. “Heather Shepherd, you’re a genius.”
Heather waved off the compliment, then crooked her forefinger and tucked it underneath her chin. “That begs the question, who gave her the necklace?”
“Why?” Ryan halted mid-step and scratched his temple. “What difference does that make?”
“I highly doubt Isabella would’ve ripped off her necklace without a good reason. Perhaps that necklace had sentimental value.”
“That would mean that whoever fought with her, had given it to her or something like that.” Ryan stopped scratching. “But, that’s a huge assumption.
Who knows, she could’ve been one of those people who does crazy stuff when they’re angry.”
“True,” Heather said and pointed at him. “I don’t know. I just get the feeling that the necklace is important. My sleuth senses are tingling.” Heather cleared her throat. “And so is my curiosity. I think you’d better give me the address for Sophia and Hailey Jaine. I’ve got some free time tomorrow, and I intend on spending it wisely.”
“You got it, hon,” Ryan said, then swept her into a hug. “You know; I couldn’t do this without you. You’re becoming one of Hillside P.D.’s most valuable assets.”
Heather couldn’t help but grin at that. Her grin faded over the next couple of seconds.
The mystery hadn’t been solved yet.
Chapter 5
“Please, come in,” Sophia Hunt said, and held the door wide open. “And excuse the mess. Things have been chaotic around here ever since, you know since it happened.”
Sophia led them down the cramped hall and into a tiny living room, decorated with flowers and images of ballerinas in silver frames. She bent beside the coffee table and tapped the glass on one of the pictures. “This was my grandmother. A famous dancer.”
Sophia drew herself upright and flicked her dark brown hair over her shoulder. She adjusted the think pink cardigan she wore over her leotard, then strode to an armchair and lowered herself into it.
Amy and Heather exchanged a glance.
“Please,” Sophia said, “Have a seat.”
Polite as could be, and her eyes puffy and red from hours of crying, no doubt.
Heather sat down on the floral-patterned sofa and Amy sat down beside her. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms, then leaned close to Heather. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“So, we’re adding ballet to the list of things that freak you out?”
“The list isn’t that long,” Amy hissed.
“Rats, graveyards, ballerinas,” Heather said, and ticked them off on her fingers.
“Am I interrupting something?” Sophia asked. “Because I have a lot to organize, now that Isabella’s body – ugh, now that she’s been released. I have a memorial service to put together.”
“Sorry, Sophia, we won’t waste any of your time,” Heather replied. “Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Heather Shepherd, and I’m working with the Hillside Police Department to find out who did this to your sister.”
“And what about her?” Sophia asked, and jerked her chin toward Amy.
“I,” Amy said, “am possibly a descendant of Hanson Gregory.”
“Huh?” Sophia blinked at Heather’s bestie. “Who’s that?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Amy said and shook her head. “The youth of today. No culture. No education.” She flapped a hand in front of her face. “He invented the round donut, kiddo.”
“I don’t eat donuts,” Sophia said, stiffly.
Amy laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “Go figure.”
“I’m so confused,” Sophia muttered.
Heather poked Amy in the thigh, then smiled at Sophia. “When you’re around Amy, confusion is a constant state of existence. She’s my assistant, Sophia. That’s the short version of it, anyway.”
“Oh,” Sophia said, and her lips formed into a perfect ring. She touched her fingers to her creamy, white neck, graceful as a swan, then sighed. “Do you have questions for me, Mrs. Shepherd?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I’d hoped to speak to your roommate as well. Is Hailey here?” Heather craned her neck and glanced around at the other entrance.
“No, Hailey is out,” Sophia said, and her tone spoke volumes – she didn’t care what Hailey did.
Heather nodded, then drew her notepad and faulty ballpoint out of her tote bag. “Sophia, I understand you and your sister were close?”
“We were twins,” Sophia said, and she choked down her tears. They glistened at the corners of her eyes. “She was a part of me, and I was a part of her. I loved my sister with everything I had – I, ugh, I’m sorry, this is very difficult for me to talk about.”
Amy pressed her index fingers to the pad beneath her eyes and wiped at her tears.
Heather swallowed the lump in her throat, then cleared it. “I understand. If you need to stop, please tell me.”
“I will.” Sophia gestured for Heather to continue. “I’m fine for now. You can go on.”
“Right,” Heather said. She brought the flyer for the show out from her bag and showed it to Sophia. “I understand that your sister was the star of the show.”
Sophia pursed her lips. “Yes. A decision I didn’t agree with. I loved my sister, but I was a far better dancer than her. She should never have been the star of the show.”
“Shawn Masterson seemed to think she was the best candidate,” Heather replied.
“Ha, that’s only because Shawn was afraid people would think he chose me for the lead because he’s my boyfriend,” Sophia replied, and folded her hands in her lap. “He was always so afraid of what people thought. And, between you and me, I think he was a little jealous of me.”
Amy wriggled her lips from side to side. “Jealous? Why?”
Sophia pressed her lips together, then leaned in.
Amy and Heather followed her example and squished themselves together in their efforts.
“He can’t dance anymore, so he teaches. He loves ballet, but I think he secretly loathes his dancers. Honestly, he never treats us well during class, and whenever I bring up dancing when we’re in private, he shuts down the conversation.”
“Why can’t he dance?” Heather asked.
“Knee injury,” Sophia replied. “He doesn’t talk about it, but I saw the way he reacted when he heard about the American Ballet Theatre representative coming to Hillside. His eyes went hot as an oven.”
“Meaning?”
Sophia tapped her chin with a short-clipped fingernail. “Meaning he was furious that we'd got the opportunity that he can never take, himself.”
“I only have two more questions, Miss Hunt,” Heather said.
“Sure, fire away,” Sophia replied, and eased her tall frame back in the armchair.
“Where were you on Monday morning at 10 am?” Heather asked. It was the approximate time of the murder.
“I was here. My sister went dancing class ahead of me because she wanted to prepare for her big role,” Sophia said, and a tinge of bitterness entered her words. “She’d been going early for weeks.”
“I see,” Heather said. “And my final question, could I see your ballet slippers?”
“Sure,” Sophia said and gestured to the corner. “They’re right there. I was about to pack them the day that it happened, but then I got the call and, well, I dropped everything.” She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers.
Heather stood and walked to the pair of shoes in the corner. She bent and stared at them. Two flawless, pale pink pointe shoes. Sophia would’ve had no reason to use the spare slippers at the school.
Unless she’d lied about her whereabouts. “Can anyone corroborate your alibi, Miss Hunt?” Heather asked, and rose from her crouch again.
“Yeah, I saw Hailey Jaine that morning. She was in the kitchen. You’d just have to speak to her. She’ll tell you I was here,” Sophia replied, and gave Heather a watery smile. “Is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s all. Thank you for your time, Miss Hunt.”
Chapter 6
Amy ran the pale pink organza curtains through her fingertips. A small smile played across her lips. “I remember my curtains when I was a kid. I wanted these bright, lime green ones and my mom got me plain white.”
“What did you do?” Heather asked.
“What are you talking about? I thanked her. I was a good kid,” Amy replied, then grinned at her. “Heather, Lilly is going to love this.”
Heather placed her fists on her hips and heaved a sigh.
She hummed Wild World by Cat Stevens and swayed from side-to-side.
The
guest room in her home wasn’t for a guest anymore. This would be Lilly’s room, and she’d spent the past four hours shopping for the right sheets, curtains and everything else to make her comfortable.
“I hope she likes it. She told me that pink is her favorite color. I don’t want to mess this up,” Heather said.
Amy walked to the new, pale white dresser and picked up a handheld mirror. She checked her reflection, winked at herself then put it down again. “You’re kidding, right? She’s going to love this. And the social worker will pass you guys.”
“I think the inspection isn’t just for her bedroom. There’s more to it than that. I’m just not sure what, yet.” Heather chewed the corner of her lip, then pressed her palms to her stomach. “I’ve never been this nervous.”
Amy smiled and walked to her bestie, then grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Everything is going to work out just fine. Everything’s moving fast, but it’s going to end up in the right place.”
Heather exhaled slowly and leaned on her best friend. “What would I do without you?” She asked.
“Be eternally bored. You know my quick wit makes your day,” Amy said, then pulled back from the hug. “Speaking of quick wit. What did you think of Sophia today?”
Heather smacked her lips, then sat down on the edge of Lilly’s new bed. She touched the pale sheets, then looked up at Amy. “I think, I’m not sure what to think. On one hand, she seemed awfully jealous of her sister and on the other –”
“Yeah, like she was upset. Broken, even.” Amy walked to the dresser and leaned on it, then pouted. “I didn’t like her that much. She doesn’t look like a donut eater.”
“That’s your criteria?” Heather asked. “No wonder you and Dave are practically best friends.”
“Oh please, Dave replaced me with Lilly, long ago.” Amy snorted, then turned back to her friend. “You think she’s innocent?”
“It’s too early to tell. I think her information about Shawn Masterson was interesting, along with the fact that Masterson had a rather loving message from Isabella in his desk drawers.”
Banana Coconut Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 21 Page 2