One small step after another, she made her way down the hall toward the patio. She slid the door open and walked outside. Her patio wasn’t a huge space, but was big enough to house one four-person hot tub and two rocking chairs with a small table in between. The early morning air felt good to her feverish body. She took a seat. Hugging herself tightly, she rocked back and forth. Back and forth.
The early morning rays of the sun were popping up over the shoreline. Down below, an elderly couple held hands as they walked along the beach, occasionally interrupting a seagull’s resting place. Laura could hear the water gently roll to shore and the sporadic squawks of birds fighting over their morning meal. It was music to her ears.
As time passed, and the meds kicked in a little, she could feel her breathing become more natural. Her heart no longer pounded, and her muscles began to relax.
Laura allowed her senses to continue to take their fill of the sights and sounds around her as she fought to think of anything but the night she was raped. The night she lost all trust in the one she believed to have loved.
She was thankful to live in this duplex. Living along the beach had been something she always wanted. Never in a million years did she think it would happen as young as she was, but she wasn’t about to complain about that. Times like this, where she needed help controlling her anxiety, she was extra grateful. A beach scene was one of her go-to places when using imagery to train her mind. Lucky for her, she no longer had to imagine it. She could just step outside.
Her thoughts shifted from one thing to another. When they landed on her best friend, Marissa, she thought of last night and the fun they had. It was good to catch up with her. But now something new troubled her. She realized she had no clue what happened after she danced with whatever his name was. How could she have forgotten an entire night? Yet, she made it home. She had put her pajamas on and had gotten into bed. She just didn’t remember doing any of it.
Through the glass door, down the hall, and from her bedroom, a small, annoying chime began to repeatedly ring out. Laura’s eyes narrowed. Then they closed all together as her shoulders slumped. She just realized it was Thursday. She was supposed to be getting ready for class, but there was no way she could go to work today.
Stumbling back inside, she went to turn the alarm off. She looked around for her phone so she could call in. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but her stomach was still in knots, her head a little dazed and confused, and exhaustion was taking everything out of her. Now that she was completely relaxed, all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep.
After making the phone call, Laura sighed. How was this going to make her look? She gets a possible promotion and then calls in sick the next day. How convenient. She just hoped and prayed that this little stunt didn’t ruin her chances of becoming the next dean.
Slipping out of her penguin slippers and silk robe, she crawled back into her bed. Her big bed with fluffy pillows and an oversized down comforter that made it feel like she was laying on a cloud. Within seconds, she was out cold.
* * *
Laura didn’t wake back up until the next morning when her alarm sounded. She yawned, stretched, and realized quickly that she was famished. Remembering how she felt yesterday, she decided to have a piece of wheat toast with a little bit of butter. If that sit fine with her, she’d grab more to eat after her first class.
After cleaning up the kitchen a little, she browsed through her closet to find something to wear. She settled on her favorite. Something that accentuated her curves, yet was perfectly professional. It was a navy blue high-waisted pencil skirt with a slit in the back, and a red button-down short-sleeve shirt that had a collar reaching up her neck. She slipped on some dark gray pumps and tossed her brunette hair up into a messy bun. After applying some make up, she grabbed her bag and walked out the door. She felt new. Fresh. Alive. A far cry from yesterday.
The day continued; each class wore a little bit on her, but nothing was quite as challenging as her last class of the day. Laura had a love hate relationship with this class. On one hand, her favorite student, Cassie, was in it. On the other hand, there was Parker. Parker Manscotti was a flirt. He believed he was God’s gift to women. Worst of all, he wasn’t serious about his studies. Nothing irritated her more than a student who cared less about their education.
Laura walked down each of the rows, passing back the tests from Monday. The next test in line was Parker’s, and as usual, the grade was suboptimal. She placed it on his desk and quickly moved to the next. Behind her, she heard Parker rearrange in his seat and whisper an “Oh, man.”
“You know, Parker,” she started as she handed Cassie back her test, the only one that got a perfect score, “If you’d take better notes and study like Cassie does, you would do better.” She smiled at Cassie, feeling slightly bad she made her blush from the attention. But it was the truth and it needed to be said.
“Well, if I had a tutor like her, I’d ace the class, too,” Parker replied. He laughed his dirty little laugh.
A few classmates, mostly those who hung around with him, joined in on the snickering. The others were deathly quiet, waiting to see how this was going to pan out.
It was no secret. Everyone knew she tutored Cassie, and everyone was well aware what Parker was implying. It wasn’t his first time saying something about her body or the fact he liked her.
As quick as a flash, Laura looked him in the eyes and corrected him. “You mean if you had a brain like her, you’d ace the class, too.”
The entire class ooh-ed. Parker became downcast. His so-called friends now made fun of him, poking his body and his pride.
Walking to the front of the room, she sat on the edge of her desk and looked at everyone. “All right, everyone. All right. Calm down.” Her hands motioned the same. When it was quiet, she said, “Now two things. First of all, this isn’t grade school or even high school. You are in college. You are adults. Act like it.” Laura let that truth sink in a moment. “And second, I’ve mentioned more than once that I am willing to tutor anyone. And I mean anyone. Even you, Parker.” Her eyes met his.
“Yes, Ms. Keaton,” he replied quietly. He looked away.
She saw his impish grin return, though. Who knew what was going through that mind of his? And, frankly, she didn’t even want to know.
“Okay. Now that we’ve got that over and done with, please look at your tests. We’re going to go over them.” Laura began to read through each question, explaining what the correct answer was and why. She later started going over the next lesson and what their homework was going to be. She accomplished everything on her agenda just as the bell rang. “Have a good weekend, everyone,” she said.
Most students left the room immediately. Cassie was one of the last. She slowly walked past Laura’s desk and smiled, saying she’d see her Monday.
Taking up the rear was Parker who sauntered his way toward her. He plopped down by her desk. “You’re my favorite teacher, you know that?”
“I’m sure I am, Parker. Can I do anything for you?” She busied herself with some paperwork in order to not play into his advances.
At first, he didn’t say anything, which annoyed her. But then he finally said, “So, I think I’ll take you up on your offer to tutor me. I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two.”
His smile proved he wasn’t referring to anything remotely related to his schoolwork. She put her pen down and looked him square in the eye. “That’s fine. Next time we have a test coming, I’ll take some time to help. But let’s get one thing straight. We will be working with your head. And I mean that one.” She raised her pen up toward his face. Lowering it toward his groin, she added, “Not that one.”
Parker’s hungry eyes sparkled. He smiled, looking at her up and down. She could feel him picturing what she looked like underneath her outfit.
“We can try.” He licked his lips and left.
Laura watched him go. He was really getting on her nerves. His pompous a
ttitude irritated her to no end. If she didn’t like her hair as much as she did, she’d be bald from yanking it out by now. She couldn’t wait for the semester to be over with.
She grabbed some papers and books and placed them in her bag. Thank goodness it was the end of the day. Thank goodness it was Friday. And thank goodness her boyfriend, Connor, was coming home tomorrow. She really needed to be with him right now. There was so much to share.
CHAPTER 5
I
t was after five in the afternoon on Friday. Detective Randy Kojak was supposed to have left by now to go home and enjoy the weekend. But instead, a half hour ago he called his wife, Tina, letting her know he’d be late. When she asked what time, he didn’t have an answer. He knew she wasn’t happy about it, but there was this puzzle he was trying to piece together.
He loved puzzles. He even welcomed the challenge. But this case was proving to be impossible. Unless it was easy and there was nothing to piece together in the first place. The detective didn’t think he was that lucky, though, and unfortunately, only time would tell.
Sitting back in his chair with his legs on top of his L-shaped desk, he pressed ‘Play’ on his laptop once again. This must have been the zillionth time he watched the events that surrounded the death of Trey Cooper. He tried to find something that gave a clue as to why this young man’s lights suddenly went out.
What was fascinating to him was the energy Trey had. Almost the entire disc had Trey anchored on the dance floor. And like the night manager shared, no one really danced with him. He spent time dancing around women. Not with women. Until the one.
Detective Kojak leaned in closer to see if he could decipher any features or make out who the woman might be. Even with video enhancement software, the footage was still rather grainy. But the black-and-white feed did reveal a woman with darker hair. Slender. Average height. Could pass off as someone who was attractive. He didn’t recall ever seeing her, but there were many people in Crimson Shores he had yet to meet.
The detective watched the woman and Trey dance in slow motion. One corner of his lips slanted upward. Thoughts of the time he and his wife danced like that entered his mind. The two of them didn’t do this type of thing anymore. But he wouldn’t trade their current relationship state with anything in the world. He was happy with how his and Tina’s relationship had developed into something comfortable. Dependable. Mundane even. But in a good way. At his age, he didn’t need the rollercoaster ups and downs. He was much more interested in the straight highway of the plains. But this dance did bring back some good memories.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly to himself. He scratched the one side of his goatee. Of course, he didn’t even know if he should even worry about her. But something told him he should.
The detective continued to watch the rest of the footage, yet he already knew how it all turned out. After the erotic dance, Trey continued to dance with no one in particular, and the woman was no longer present. How he wished the camera caught more than just the dance floor!
A quick knock on his door caught him off guard. He put his legs down and sat up in his chair. “Come in,” he remarked tiredly.
It was Mindy, the new rookie. Her skin was so pale that it reminded him of a walking snowman. However, she was also way too skinny. Her cheekbones and fragile-looking frame made the snowman analogy incorrect. His mind quickly searched for something else. Why, he didn’t know.
Mindy tossed a folder on top of his desk. “It’s the autopsy report.”
Detective Kojak’s eyebrows scrunched inward. “At this hour?”
“Apparently,” she said in a monotone manner.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good weekend.” Mindy walked out the door.
Corpse! There it was. Mindy reminded him of a walking corpse. Add her dark hair and deep-colored makeup and she was maybe a living vampire. Minus the teeth, of course. He shivered as that connection was made simply by her handing him a file of a dead guy.
He looked at the file for a minute, sighing. Maybe all the extra hours of work were for no reason at all. Maybe it was all in vain. This would be the moment of truth.
The detective opened it. The top sheet listed details he already knew just by the quick glance of the body. Therefore, he breezed through all that information. Some more important parts were outlined later. That’s where he flipped to.
There was one particular comment that caught his eye. The medical examiner had made a note of some of Trey’s markings. There was a cross tattoo located on his upper left shoulder. Various moles and their locations were listed. Trey even had one rather small scar on the tip of the big toe on his left foot. At first glance, everything was appearing to suggest a pure natural death.
However, there was one marking Detective Kojak found suspicious. It was a tiniest-of-pin-needles sized spot found on the side of Trey’s neck, and it wasn’t listed as a mole or scar. Not even as a pimple. What was this mark? His gut instinct feared it could be an injection site. But was it for drugs? Or, based on the location, which wasn’t typical of a drug user, could it be that something foul happened?
Towards the middle of the page it showed the cause of death. ‘Heart Attack’ was written in the space next to it. That’s the same thing one of the police officers and the paramedics had said. But Detective Kojak’s first thought was that something must have caused the heart attack. Or that maybe whatever happened only mimicked a heart attack. There was no telling if that were true, though, unless he got a more in-depth examination.
His eyes went to the end of the report to look at the manner of death. A checkmark next to ‘Natural’ would have been welcomed. ‘Accidental’ or ‘Suicide’, even, would have been a nice reprieve. But the detective was not expecting those results. In fact, if the medical examiner was doing her job, there was no way he could get those results. And, sure enough, those results didn’t show up. Instead there was a blue-ink checkmark right next to the box that read ‘Pending’. She must be doing a toxicology report. Good for her. Those results would shed light on the situation.
At the back of the file were some of Trey’s belongings: mainly his wallet, sunglasses, and keys. Basically, anything on him. It must be that his family hadn’t come to claim his stuff yet. The detective was about to close the folder when he saw a business-card-sized note.
To be on the safe side, Detective Kojak put on gloves so he could get a closer look. He carefully removed the card and examined what it said. The note was short. He’d say sweet, but the contents of the message didn’t exactly imply anything sweet. It read, “#1. Margaret.” There was also a red-colored lip print. His eyebrows folded inward. What is this supposed to mean?
Detective Kojak got another gut instinct: this card had something to do with Trey’s death. He didn’t think Trey died of natural causes, although it appeared so in almost every way. Somehow, someway, he was going to figure out what or who was behind the card and the death. And to get to the bottom of it all, he had to make a few phone calls. The first was going to be to the medical examiner.
* * *
Betsy Knox sat at her desk, finishing the last report of the day. This part of her job she didn’t care for so much. It was the actual examination that excited her.
Ever since she was in the seventh grade, sitting next to her then boyfriend, where they had to dissect a frog in science class, opening things up and studying the contents was something she enjoyed. Now that she was twelve years older, and with a much more mature boyfriend, she got to do what she loved. And get paid for it!
Her family never thought she would have gotten where she has, being as young as she was. But she was an old soul. She had passed all her classes and examinations with flying colors. And it couldn’t have hurt to appear older. With her short, red hair complete with bangs, something a lot of other women her age had gotten rid of, and her black-rimmed square glasses, she figured she looked at least thirty-five. She was pursued and appointed. And ever since filling
this role, has been told she was one of the best. But she already knew that.
The phone rang. Betsy put down her pen. She had a feeling it was going to be Detective Kojak. Looking at the caller ID, she was right.
“Hello, Detective.”
“Betsy, hi. I just received your report on Trey Cooper, and I have some questions.”
She sat back in her chair. Her own copy of Trey’s report was still sitting near the top. She opened it. “Okay. What can I help you with?”
“First of all, this prick on the side of his neck, any idea what from?”
“It’s definitely some kind of needle. I won’t know anything more until the toxicology report comes back.”
“Oh, good. I figured you filed one.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
There was a second of silence. Betsy didn’t know if she should say anything else.
“Do you have any idea about family or friends? Has anyone come forward?” the detective suddenly asked.
She scratched the top of her head. “No.”
“We haven’t had any luck on our end either.”
Another second of silence.
“This card –”
“The one with the lip print?” she interjected. The card was an interesting find for her.
“Yeah. Where was it?”
“In the pocket of his jeans.”
“What do you make of it?” the detective asked.
Betsy shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, it could be some dating note or anything really.” Since finding the card, she had fun imagining the options, but, of course, she was clueless. Needing to finish the last report of the day, she started to get edgy. “No disrespect, but it’s not my job to figure this out. I just pass all my findings over.”
A Kiss With Death Page 4