Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1)

by Jenna St James

  Every eye turned to Garrett. He took another slow draw from his beer before answering. “Not really. Looking into a few leads, but still going through the preliminaries right now.”

  There were leads? When did this happen? I wished I’d taken more care to listen to the phone call Garrett got at my house a while ago, since now suddenly there were leads.

  “Everyone at the school is shocked, I can tell you that,” Nick said. “To think that someone actually went through with what many people thought of doing is really kinda scary.” He chuckled nervously as he shifted in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I never had a direct problem with her, I'm just a small fish, but I’ve listened to many teachers and coaches that did.”

  “I’d say the general consensus we’ve come up with was that it was her way or the highway,” Garrett agreed.

  “Yes, I’d say you’re right.” Nick agreed. “I heard the heart was ripped out of her chest.”

  Oh boy! Obviously word had gotten out already about Dr. Garver’s body. Not that I really thought it would be able to be kept a secret in this town.

  * * *

  As we were all saying goodbye, my stomach started to knot at the thought of what would happen when Garrett dropped me off. Would he want to come in? Should I invite him in? What was I supposed to do?

  The ride back to my house was silent and semi-comfortable. I kept stealing sideways glances at Garrett, trying to read his face, but he was like granite. I bet he was awesome at poker.

  As he pulled into my driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt. He put the car into park, and I countered back by reaching for the door handle. “Let me walk you to the door.”

  A command, not a request.

  We both got out and walked up the porch steps and stopped at my front door. “Keys,” he demanded as he held out his hand. I reached into my jeans and pulled out my keys. In one fluid motion Garrett had the key inside the lock and the door open.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I guess—”

  I never got a chance to finish. Garrett leaned down and kissed me. Before the panic of what to do next settled over me, Garrett broke off the kiss. “So, I think I’m going to say good night here. I’ve a long day tomorrow. Need to start working on those leads.”

  Never one to curb my tongue I asked, “What leads exactly?”

  Garrett just chuckled. “Nope. Not gonna happen, Sin”

  Pouting, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I know these people. What makes you think you can get somewhere with them that I can’t?”

  His eyes went hard. “Because it’s my job, and I know how to do my job. Unlike you, I’ve had training in how to read people, look for tells when they’re lying, follow clues, and solve crimes.”

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Stupid to grab the bull by the horns, but sometimes I can’t help myself. “I still have to do some writing and interviewing for the paper, especially now that people seem to know a little about what happened to the body.” Knowing I was playing with fire, I couldn’t help adding, “I’ll tell ya what…if I come across anything important in my journalistic investigation, I’ll let you know.”

  With that I walked into my house, closed and locked the door. I swear I heard growling on the other side of the door but I chose to ignore it, because suddenly I had an epiphany as to who could help me with my investigation. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but if anyone could help me profile and hunt for clues, it was my great-aunt Shirley.

  Chapter 4

  Saturdays are one of our busiest days at the paper. I knew I’d let Hank down with my crappy article the other day, so in order to redeem myself, I set out early Saturday for a good story. Basically, I was ready to snoop.

  Hank was covering the front-page stuff, like Dr. Garver’s life, facts about what happened, that kind of boring stuff. I knew what my job was, and that was to get the good stuff—the stuff that sells papers. So I was ready to snoop and gossip with the best of ‘em, under the guise of journalistic reporting, of course.

  My first stop was Legends. I was ready to give it another try now that I had something to prove to Garrett. Once again the spaces downtown were filled, so I drove around behind the square down the back alley. Usually cars didn’t park here, unless you were like Iris and lived above the store. I slowed my Civic down to less than five miles per hour—the ruts were horrific, and I didn’t want to damage underneath my car—before finding a spot in the back alley. I saw Iris’s car parked next to a big green dumpster. The only other spot to park was on the other side of the dumpster, sandwiched between the brick building and the dumpster. It was perfect. My car would be hidden out of sight.

  As I made my way around the back of the deserted brick building, I wasn’t watching where I was going and stumbled.

  “Be careful there, dear, you don’t want to get yourself hurt.”

  I glanced up quickly. Sister Williams was carrying a Subway bag and walking toward me. Her kind smile immediately put me at ease and my heart stopped pounding.

  “Are you okay, Ryli?” Sister Williams held out her arm as if to steady me.

  Laughing at my behavior, I said, “Yeah. I was just thinking about the story I needed to get and wasn’t paying attention.” I glanced down at her bag and stated the obvious. “You and the preacher having breakfast out this morning?”

  “Your pastor loves his Subway breakfast. It’s a Saturday tradition of ours.” She wiggled the plastic bag as she stepped around me.

  Inspiration hit me. “Sister Williams, I was wondering if you would like to talk about Dr. Garver’s death. I know y’all were friends, and that she was even on the church board.”

  The smile left Sister Williams’s face. I felt awkward as I waited for her reply. “My dear, this is a very difficult time for us all, I’m not sure I can help you out.” Her tone was polite, yet final.

  I tried again, “I know, but sometimes talking about it helps.” Okay, even to me it sounded lame, but it was worth a shot.

  Once again she was quiet as she looked me over. “I cannot tell you how to do your job, Ryli, and I’m sure you don’t mean to be disrespectful, but please remember that people grieve in different ways. I do not wish to talk about her death at this time. I’d like to grieve privately, if you don’t mind.”

  Okay, now I was officially embarrassed.

  “It’s not like that,” I assured her. “I’m really trying to help out. Maybe even get some leads for Chief Kimble by asking questions.”

  Now where did that come from?

  A placating smile formed on Sister Williams's face. “I’m sure the Chief can do his job just fine. You be careful now, okay.” She patted me on the arm and continued walking to her car. I stood there and watched as she drove off.

  Did she mean be careful and watch where I was walking so I didn’t stumble again, or be careful whom I asked questions to because she's afraid I'd end up like Dr. Garver?

  A sobering thought.

  * * *

  My enthusiasm had severely dampened by the time I reached the front door of Legends and stepped inside. My senses were immediately assaulted with the smell of perm solution and hairspray. A chair was open along the wall of ladies waiting their turn, so I decided to take a seat and listen in.

  “I know Coach Perkins was livid about what she did with his budget,” Pamela Nettles said.

  Dan Perkins has been the athletic director at the school for about five years now. He was a family man, two kids, nice wife. Somehow I couldn’t see him committing such a heinous crime, but I decided to jot down his name anyway and stop by and talk with him. See if I couldn’t pick up on something.

  “What about Doc Powell? I heard they were caught fighting after a board meeting a while back and it got ugly!” Tina Anderson countered back, her scissors going to town on Pamela’s hair.

  Again, I couldn’t imagine Doc doing something so atrocious—of course, I couldn’t imagine anyone I knew doing something so terrible—but it might be worth a more intimate talk at his place and not
on the streets like yesterday.

  “Ryli, I didn’t see you slip in. Did you need something in particular today?” Iris asked as she continued to tease Mrs. Evans’s hair into a football-like bouffant.

  “Just working on my editorial for the week.” I tried to be nonchalant, but I knew if there was anything new and juicy, Iris would know about it by now. “Have you heard anything more about the Garver murder?”

  Iris paused mid tease and looked me over from top to bottom, as though assessing my worth.

  “I’ll tell ya what, the shop’s closed Monday, but I need to run a few errands during the day. Why don’t you drop by my place Monday night? I might be able to help you out.”

  I couldn’t believe my luck! Oh, I was so going to make Garrett eat his words!

  Playing it cool I said, “Sure, Iris, that’d be great. I’ll see you around seven o'clock Monday night.” I said.

  “Sounds good, sugar. Just come upstairs.”

  * * *

  I ran out to Paige’s place to see if she wanted to go with me to visit Dan Perkins. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to say to him or even what questions to ask, but I figured if he was hiding something, Paige and I would be able to see something.

  Paige was finishing up a ledger for her dad, so I decided to put some tea on the stove. I wasn’t sure yet how I was going to break it to her that we may need to bring Aunt Shirley into the mix. Paige and my great aunt didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Mainly because a while back Aunt Shirley told Paige the reason Matt still hadn’t proposed was because a guy doesn’t buy the cow when the milk is free. This did not go over well with Paige.

  Paige strolled into the kitchen as I finished pouring our tea. “When Garrett dropped me off last night, he basically said we needed to butt out and stop asking questions because we wouldn’t know a lead or a clue if it bit us on the ass.” Okay, I was paraphrasing a little, but I needed her to agree to bring in Aunt Shirley.

  “That’s a little harsh, even for Garrett,” Paige said as she blew on the tea.

  “But it got me to thinking. Maybe he’s right, maybe we need to bring in someone who would recognize a clue or a lead.” I glanced at her to gauge her reaction when she finally figured out what I was saying.

  “Oh, hell no!” she exclaimed. “No way am I working with that crazy old woman!”

  “Please, Paige, it’s the only thing I can think of. I thought we might go visit her after we talk to Coach Perkins. Who knows, maybe he’ll give us something and we won’t need her.” I left her with that little glimmer of false hope.

  * * *

  I knew where Coach Perkins lived because it used to be my old piano teacher’s house when I was a kid. In fact, it was still referred to as her house by many, even though the Perkins family had lived there for about three years now. Typical behavior in a small town.

  I pulled into the driveway in front of the two-car garage. One garage door was open, so I figured someone must be home. I have to be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say yet. I knew I couldn’t come right out and ask him if he murdered Dr. Garver, but there had to be something or someone he could steer me toward. Turning off the car, Paige and I made a beeline for the garage.

  A sandy-haired boy of about eleven ran around the corner of the house, skidding to a halt in front of the open garage. He didn’t even look in our direction.

  “Dad, can I go to Blake’s to play?”

  “Your chores are done?” a voice called from inside the garage.

  “Yep,” the boy said, hopping up and down in excitement. “Mom said it was fine but I had to ask you.”

  “Take your bike.”

  Running over to a rack of bikes, the boy yanked one free and hopped on. Hunching over the handlebars, he barely glanced at us as he flew by. I lifted my hand to wave, but he was already gone.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turned back toward the garage. Coach Perkins was wiping his hands on a towel as he walked toward us. I knew he recognized me because I often go to games and athletic banquets to take pictures for the paper. He’d always been a nice enough guy, but suddenly I was glad I wasn’t alone. I had to start toughening up if I was going to investigate this murder.

  “I was hoping you can answer some questions for me about Dr. Garver’s death.”

  “Look, I’ll make it simple for you. I didn’t kill her, and I don’t know who did. I have a huge list of people who hated her, but I’m sure you also have one yourself.”

  Damn, he had me there.

  “I guess I was hoping you might know something that could help us out. I didn’t figure you killed her,” I said, hoping to get him to open up, “but anything you know would be helpful.”

  Perkins chuckled. “Look lady, Chief Kimble already called me this morning. He said he’d be over sometime this afternoon to talk with me. He also told me if a certain nosey reporter came snooping around, I was to tell her nothing, or I would be brought up on obstruction charges. And then he'd throw you in jail for the same thing.”

  I heard Paige gasp.

  “Well, then I guess there’s no reason to tell him I was ever here, right?”

  Coach Perkins grinned. “Right, you were never here.”

  Paige and I ran to my car, I slid over the hood Dukes of Hazzard style, jumped in, and sped off down the street before Garrett caught us and hauled us both off to jail.

  * * *

  There’re no words to describe my great-aunt Shirley...except nutty, mean, smart, crazy, and old.

  Well, what do you know? I actually could describe her. She currently resides at the Oak Grove Manor, a sort of assisted living facility for the elderly. She was my mom’s aunt. My great-aunt Shirley never had a thought she didn’t express, which put most people on edge. Deep down, I really liked her and her eccentric ways. I think she’s around seventy-five, but I’m not sure, and I’ve never been brave enough to ask.

  Aunt Shirley was a true old maid. She never married or had children. Instead, she bucked the system in a time period when women just didn’t do that. To her parents’ horror, she ran off to Los Angeles, California at the age of twenty-three and became a private investigator. Yep, you heard right. My great-aunt Shirley was a real-life Charlie’s Angels type of badass woman, before Charlie’s Angels was even a thing.

  “I still can’t believe we’re doing this. She’s a complete whack job! What on earth could she tell us that we don’t already know?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m telling you, the woman is amazing when it comes to knowing and digging up things,” I said.

  “Yeah, because she sold her soul to the devil years ago,” Paige whined.

  She’s probably right, but I didn’t care…I needed answers. As I was speeding away from Coach Perkins’s house, I made a rational plea to Paige that we couldn’t go any further without Aunt Shirley’s help.

  Turning onto Cherry Street, I made my way slowly to Oak Grove Manor, practicing what I’d say to get Aunt Shirley hooked into helping us. I didn’t figure it’d be too tough, it’s not like she had a lot to do.

  I drove into the circle drive of Oak Grove Manor and parked in the designated area for visitors. Getting out, we made our way to the front entrance.

  Oak Grove Manor was an old, three-story brick building with patches of ivy clinging to the exterior. The outside looked pretty neglected and run down, a metaphor I’m sure for the old people housed inside the building. A few of the apartments had tiny balconies that looked like one person could squeeze onto them.

  It looked lonely and depressing. I’d hate to live here.

  “God, I’d hate to live here,” Paige said.

  “Ditto.”

  We walked into the foyer and bypassed the information desk. I knew what floor and room number my great aunt was in. We went through the first set of doors to the right of the foyer. The sign above the door read, “Welcome to Tropical Paradise Wing.” The dimly lit corridor was decorated with fake plants and palm trees. On the walls were faded pi
ctures of tropical islands and beaches.

  Paige and I nodded and waved at the people who were hanging out in the spacious hallway and open doors of their apartments. We reached the elevators and hit the up button to the third floor.

  It didn’t take us long to reach room 366. As I was knocking on the door, I wondered how hard it would be to turn the three into a six. I always wondered that same thing every time I stopped by.

  “Quit pounding and come in!” Aunt Shirley’s voice boomed from inside.

  I turned the doorknob and went in, leaving Paige to shut the door behind her. It was a tiny area with the main living room/kitchen/breakfast nook all in one room, and a bedroom and bathroom down a narrow hallway off to the left. The one bonus about the tiny living space was that it did have a sliding glass door in between the breakfast nook and kitchen area that led to one of the barely-there balconies.

  The walls were white and bare. When she first moved in, Aunt Shirley refused to decorate the place, claiming she wasn’t going to be there for more than a few months, so why waste the energy. A little over a year later she still believed that ridiculous fairy tale. But after her last escapade, I was fairly certain Garrett and Mom were never going to let her out.

  Garrett had only been in town and on the job for a few weeks when he first met Aunt Shirley. I’d been at the office for fifteen minutes when he called me in a fit of rage. He had Aunt Shirley locked up in a holding cell and wanted me to come get her before he did everyone a favor and tossed the key. I could hear my aunt in the background yelling and cursing. I hauled ass down there to see what was going on.

  When I entered the station, three officers were hanging around smirking but refusing to make eye contact. I knew most of them…if they weren’t saying anything, I knew it must be bad.

  Rounding the corner into the holding cell area I stopped short. There was my Aunt Shirley, her white hair covered in leaves, black soot smeared on her face. Her clothes looked like they’d gone a round with Miss Molly’s claws and lost. Or I should say her shirt…she didn’t seem to be wearing any pants.