Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1)

by Jenna St James

  I turned to glare at Garrett.

  He looked even worse than Aunt Shirley. In fact, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. His shirt was untucked in some places, torn in others, his hair and pants were wet, and two deep scratches ran across his cheek.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked.

  “Your crazy aunt went and –”

  “Don’t listen to him, girl. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” my aunt interrupted.

  Garrett turned and glared at her. “I have the right to lock you up for a long, long time lady! Don’t push your luck!”

  Aunt Shirley flipped him the bird.

  I bit my tongue even harder.

  Throwing up his hands, Garrett stalked over to me. “I get a call from the local hardware store reporting an old lady had just backed a ’65 Falcon into their sign and never bothered to stop.”

  “First off, watch who you’re calling old. And another thing, you can’t prove it was me!”

  “Wait! Tell me the Falcon is okay!” I demanded, scared to death my dream car was totaled.

  “Ha! Damn straight it’s okay. Nothing can hurt that car,” my aunt said from the jail cell bench.

  “Not only are you the only person in town to own a ’65 Falcon, but they also have surveillance cameras on the front of their store. So I know for a fact it was your crazy no-pants-wearing ass.”

  “Humph,” my aunt said, crossing her legs. Not a good idea…I saw more thigh on her than I ever wanted to see.

  “Ask her where her pants are,” Garrett demanded when he noticed my visible shutter.

  “Here’s the thing,” Aunt Shirley said. “I was on my way to the hardware store to pick up a new rake. I was getting out of the car when I noticed I accidentally forgot to put on my pants.”

  Come again?

  “Wait,” I said. “Hadn’t you just been outside?”

  “Hey,” my aunt exclaimed standing up, her shirt riding even higher on her thighs.

  “Sit down!” Garrett and I shouted.

  My aunt plopped back down on the bench. “Anyway, like I said, I realized I accidentally forgot my pants and hightailed it outta there. I might have hit the sign. I’m not sure. So I go home to rectify the oversight,” she said, glaring daggers at Garrett. “I’m walking toward the house when I smell the fire—”

  “Oh, my God, there was a fire?” I yelled.

  “Oh, yes,” Garrett said staring my aunt down.

  My aunt held up her hand. “I’m telling the story. So anyway, I smell the fire and head to the back of the house. See, I’d raked a couple leaves and broken the rake, which was why I needed a new one. Thing is, I thought I’d put out the fire before leaving to go to the store, but I guess not.”

  “First, the fact we’re under a no burn order should have been the first indication you shouldn’t be doing this. Secondly, the fact you were outside raking pretend leaves naked should also be—”

  “Pipe down. I wasn’t exactly naked.”

  Closing my eyes I counted to five. “Aunt Shirley, it’s August, there are no leaves to rake.”

  “There were a few,” she countered.

  “How did y’all end up looking like you do?” I asked, not really sure I wanted to know.

  “Well, when I noticed the leaves were on fire, I hurried and grabbed the hose. Suddenly out of nowhere this lunkhead,” Aunt Shirley said, pointing to Garrett, “runs straight for me, screaming and yelling.”

  Garrett’s scratched cheek had started to develop a tic and his face was bright red. Knowing he was going to blow at any second, I fluttered my hands quickly for Aunt Shirley to continue. “So of course I got frightened! I’m just an old lady with a fragile heart condition.” I knew this to be a lie. “My first reaction was to protect myself and my virtue, so I turned the hose on him.”

  “Yes,” Garrett said, “even after I yelled for her to stop, she just kept on spraying me. Then a spark jumped onto her decrepit wooden shed and sent it up in flames.”

  “Hey, watch who you’re calling decrepit there, sonny!”

  I put my hand up to stop Garrett from charging into the holding cell and clobbering my aunt. I remember it clearly because it was the first time I’d ever touched him.

  It left an impression.

  My aunt leaned forward on the bench. “As I turned to put out the fire on the shed, this baboon charges me, knocks me to the ground, and starts rolling around with me. Little pervert! Probably trying to get his jollies off on my account. What’s the matter, boy, can’t find a girl your own age?” my aunt taunted.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The thought of big, hunky Garrett rolling around on the ground with my half-naked aunt was something I’d have paid to see.

  “And just my luck,” Garrett said, clenching his teeth, “my police backup and the fire station all showed up at this time to witness me on the ground with your aunt!”

  I laughed even harder.

  “I’m glad you see the humor in this,” Garrett said dryly. “However, because of your aunt, I’m now the laughingstock of this community. Not the impression I wanted to give my first few weeks here.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am,” I lied. “Did Matt see?”

  “That whippersnapper nephew of mine had the nerve to lecture me about the dangers of fire and smoke inhalation. He’s lucky I didn’t knock him over the head with my oxygen tank he’d just given me,” Aunt Shirley said, “but I was needing it at the time, mind you. Otherwise I would have. The youth of today are so disrespectful to their elders!”

  Garrett turned to me and unlocked the cell. “Get…her…out…of…here,” he said slowly, “before I change my mind and throw the book at her.”

  Not needing to be told twice, I yanked open the cell and grabbed Aunt Shirley by the arm, shushing her when she tried to protest. I knew when enough was enough.

  The whole episode resulted in my Aunt Shirley being placed at Oak Grove Manor, with the understanding that it would be permanent. Everyone understood that but my aunt.

  So like I said, here we are a little over a year later, and my Aunt Shirley still believes she’s here temporarily.

  Today Aunt Shirley was sitting on her couch, feet propped up, staring at a muted television. She was dressed in lavender polyester pants and an oversized blouse that had huge flowers in every color splattered all over. I was glad to see she’d remembered her pants.

  I never knew what to expect from Aunt Shirley. Usually she dressed according to the situation. She once told me as a private investigator you had to have everything from a jogging outfit to a cocktail dress handy at a moment’s notice. Not that she goes to too many cocktail events nowadays, but she was always prepared.

  She was still pretty fit for a woman in her seventies. She had short, white hair that barely reached her ears, and her face sprouted more wrinkles than a shar-pei puppy. Although she was always quick to tell us about all the movie stars she dated in Los Angeles when she was in her prime.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Janine’s girl,” my aunt rasped. “It’s been so long I hardly recognized you.” I’d just been to see the old bat two weeks ago, but since I needed her help I let it go.

  She turned to Paige. “Hello, Paige. I haven’t gotten a wedding invitation yet, so I’m assuming my great-nephew is still just enjoying all that free milk, eh?” Aunt Shirley hit her leg and exploded into laughter. Which resulted in a coughing fit. I was beginning to worry when her face started turning red and she was doing one of those wheeze/coughs.

  Paige’s face also turned red, but for a totally different reason. She narrowed her eyes at Aunt Shirley. “I see there’s still no cure for being a bitch.”

  Oh boy, time to get down to business before Paige killed her and we had yet another murder on our hands.

  “Hey, Aunt Shirley, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about things that’ve been happening around town.” I tried to be vague so she wouldn’t ask too many questions.

  Aunt Shirley pulled open
the drawer on the end table beside the couch and pulled out an electronic cigarette.

  “Whaddaya wanna know?” she said as she inhaled on the contraption.

  I was momentarily dumbfounded.

  “Um, Aunt Shirley, you don’t smoke.”

  “I know. And I never will now that I have this wonderful invention.”

  I tried again. “Is that one of those e-cigs?” I asked.

  “Yep. I saw an ad on the Internet, said it was healthier than smoking cigarettes.”

  Sometimes if you say things slower and louder, people suddenly understand. Okay, I know that’s a lie, but I’m always doing it. “Why do you think you need it? You don’t smoke.”

  “I don’t smoke now, but you never know, I may start taking up the habit someday. This little baby,” she continued, shaking it around, “takes that worry away. It’s sort of a sneak attack for preventative measures.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing,” I said.

  “You calling me a liar?” Aunt Shirley said while sucking on the e-cig. The vapor suddenly shot out of her mouth and she started hacking and coughing. I could see tears forming in her eyes. I rushed over, ready to pound on her back, but she waved me off. “I’m okay,” she wheezed, trying to take deep breaths.

  “Doesn’t that hurt your throat?” Paige asked, shaking her head at my aunt’s ridiculous behavior.

  “Only in the mornings. By mid-afternoon it subsides.”

  I closed my eyes and started counting to ten. I only made it to three before I blurted, “Maybe that’s your body’s way of saying stop using it!” I exclaimed.

  “Nonsense.”

  “Is there nicotine in that?” I asked.

  “Hell no! I don’t smoke cigarettes and never will. It’s a disgusting habit,” Aunt Shirley said as she wheezed and puffed again.

  I decided not to push the issue and instead got to the reason we were there. “Aunt Shirley, there was a murder Thursday night, and I was thinking—”

  “I’m aware Dr. Garver was murdered,” she interrupted.

  “You are?” Paige asked.

  “Of course! I can still eavesdrop on a good conversation, you know. There's not an orderly, nurse, or doctor around here that can keep their mouth shut.”

  “Anyway,” I continued, “Paige and I thought maybe we could help Chief Kimble figure out who the murderer is.”

  Aunt Shirley squinted at me. “Why?”

  I couldn’t tell her the truth, that I wanted to help solve this murder to prove to Garrett he wasn’t the only one who could solve a crime. That would just sound petty. “Journalistic reasons?”

  Aunt Shirley made an annoying buzzer sound. “Try again. I think this has something to do with Barney Fife and how you’ve been sniffing around him when you think no one’s watching.”

  I glowered at her. She and I both knew he was the exact opposite of Barney Fife. I also knew if Garrett ever heard her, he’d definitely lock her up and throw away the key.

  Trying to stay calm I said, “It has nothing to do—”

  “Save it, girlie.” Aunt Shirley said, cutting me off and inhaling on her vapor again. I could tell she was trying not to cough because her face turned dangerously red again. I figured it served her right.

  “We probably should help that whelp out. If his debacle with me is any indication of how he runs things, he probably couldn’t solve a murder if it was handed to him on a silver platter!”

  Once again I held my tongue.

  “Well, what do you got so far?” she wheezed.

  “We were thinking it was someone connected with—”

  “I don’t want to know who. I want to know what the crime scene looked like. All of it. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Okay, now I was a little worried. I knew I wasn’t supposed to reveal anything about the scene, even though some people already knew some of the facts. There were still only a few people who knew the entire truth. If I said something now, I knew I’d be risking my job with the police department.

  “Ain’t nothing you say gonna leave this room, is it?” Aunt Shirley gave Paige a hard look.

  “Hey, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m now an accessory in this mess,” Paige said as she put her hands up in the air.

  Chewing on my lip, I made a snap decision. “Okay, here’s what really went down.” I proceeded to tell them about the crime scene, about her heart being removed and her fingertips being cut off. I didn’t leave a single gross description out.

  “Okay, now I’m hungry,” Aunt Shirley said when I’d finished.

  Paige whipped her head around to look at me. “Is she serious?”

  “I never joke about food.” Aunt Shirley said. “It’s getting late. How about you take me to your house, Ryli, and make your dear great aunt some pancakes for lunch.”

  “Um…no. Besides, pancakes are for breakfast, not lunch.”

  “That’s why you’ll never solve this case alone…you don’t know how to think outside the box.”

  Crap!

  “Fine, wait here, I’ll bring the car around and pick you up in front of the doors.” I ignored the glare from Paige as I left her alone with Aunt Shirley.

  A few minutes later I saw Aunt Shirley breeze through the front door of the retirement center, while Paige looked to be staggering and limping. God only knows what Aunt Shirley did to her to cause the limping…and I wasn’t stupid enough to ask.

  I heard Aunt Shirley bellow before I even had her side of the door open.

  “What the hell is this?” she asked, crunching her nose up like she was smelling something rotten.

  “My car,” I said.

  Aunt Shirley snickered. “I ain’t riding in this ugly-ass car, girl. I've got a real car we can drive.”

  Aunt Shirley’s “real” car was the very car I’d coveted pretty much my entire life...a turquoise 1965 Falcon that had a glass-like finish. Dancing across the hood and side panels were purple ghost flames. In fact, the flames were so deep that a person had to look hard to see them. Under the hood was a stock 302 with an Edelbrock fuel injection.

  The interior was just as sweet. The barely-there dashboard was done in the same turquoise color, and the bucket seats in the front were a pristine white with turquoise stitching…as was the bench seat in the back.

  Like I said, I’ve secretly coveted this car for as long as I could remember. Years ago when Aunt Shirley moved back permanently to Missouri I asked her how she got the car, and she told me it was a story that was so juicy I had to be older to hear it. I vaguely wondered if I was old enough yet.

  I knew Aunt Shirley had to garage the car after her hardware sign accident and the many parking tickets she’d received prior...and it nearly killed her. The retirement center had a parking lot in the back where tenants could park one car for free. It just so happened that Aunt Shirley’s balcony overlooked the parking lot, so she could keep an eye on her baby.

  “Park this heap back where it was…and let’s do this in style. The Falcon always helped me clear my mind when I was on a case.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I parked my old Civic and ran over to where Aunt Shirley and Paige were standing. Aunt Shirley dangled the keys in front of me.

  “I never leave home without ‘em. Let’s go pull the tarp off her and see how she drives.”

  Hating the fact I had to be the adult here I asked, “Aunt Shirley, are the tags current?”

  “You bet your sweet ass they are. Now, let’s ride!”

  * * *

  The ride from Oak Grove Manor to my house was exhilarating…but it was also torture.

  “You wanna know who had it bad for me? That Richard Burton. I gave Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money, ya know.”

  I rolled my eyes. Not for one minute did I believe a word of that story. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Paige mouth the word “crazy” to me.

  As I pulled the Falcon into my driveway, I noticed a package sitting on the porch. I didn’t remember orde
ring anything off Amazon, but I’m usually forgetful.

  Stooping over to pick up the package, I let the girls into the house. Usually the UPS guy didn't come until after two. Must be my lucky day!

  “I’ll start breakfast while you guys put a list together,” I said.

  Aunt Shirley snorted. “You think that’s a good idea? I figured Paige here would make the pancakes. Or is she like you and can’t cook?”

  “I can cook!” Paige and I shouted together.

  Aunt Shirley just laughed. “Y’all are just too gullible.”

  Muttering and cursing to myself about not keeping arsenic on hand, I got out the necessary ingredients for pancakes. I decided to spice things up a bit and grabbed a bottle of cinnamon from my cabinet of spices. I’ll show her who can’t cook!

  “So what do you two civilians have so far?” Aunt Shirley grunted as she hoisted her oversize purse onto my dining room table. I figured it had to weigh ten pounds easy.

  “Aunt Shirley, you’re a civilian, too. You were never in the military.”

  Shirley narrowed her eyes at me. “You don’t know all the things I’ve done in my life. The private eye gig was just the tip of the iceberg.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Well,” Paige smoothly cut in, hoping to stop another ridiculous fight, “we already made a list of the possible suspects.”

  I listened half-heartedly as they discussed the case, focusing mostly on flipping and preparing pancakes. When I had a plate full of piping hot cakes, I carried them and some maple syrup to the table.

  “Here’s where you’re going wrong,” Aunt Shirley said. “It’s not someone associated with the school.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Paige asked.

  “What major event has just taken place at the school?” Aunt Shirley asked as she took three pancakes from the plate.

  “Nothing I can think of,” I said as I went to get milk from the fridge.

  “Exactly my point. One of the first things you do when profiling a murderer is ask yourself what’s the stressor. Something big has had to happen to make the murderer want to start murdering.”