Pretty Little Killer

by Allan, Sydney

  The picture below the headline was all too familiar.

  Four

  At exactly five-oh-one, I was on my way out to my car. Precisely twenty-three minutes later I was standing in Rob’s office, slapping the newspaper on his desk.

  “I’ve seen it,” he said.

  “And...?”

  “And I’m not getting much from my contacts at the Plymouth PD. They’re keeping a tight lid on this one.”

  I slumped into the chair across from him. “What am I going to do?”

  “There’s not much you can do.”

  That was not an acceptable response. But it was, no doubt, a realistic one. “Do you happen to know how court went this morning?”

  “She’s been denied bail. And the judge has determined that there is enough evidence to try her on the first charge. As far as I know she hasn’t been charged with the other murders...” There was an unspoken yet there. I heard it. Even though he didn’t say it.

  “I still can’t believe this is happening. Liz is not a murderer. I’ve known her for years. She doesn’t even swear at jerks who cut her off on the freeway.” Feeling twitchy, I abandoned the chair to pace back and forth in the tiny, cramped space.

  “You need to take a step back,” Rob suggested.

  “I can’t.”

  “The stress—“

  “I don’t care. Liz is like my sister. She’s the only family I have. What if I lose her? And I’m the only family she has too. I can’t let her down.”

  Rob stood, circled the desk. He put his hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “I am doing everything in my power to help her. Trust me. If she’s innocent—“

  “She is, dammit!” I knocked his hands away. A sob ripped up my throat. I swallowed it, vowing I wouldn’t cry. “She didn’t kill that woman. I know she didn’t. It has to be someone else. Someone who looks like her. Someone using the same name.” A light bulb came on. “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “She spends a ton of time on the internet, goes on a lot of forums, blogs, that kind of thing. She Facebooks too, and she isn’t very careful about who she friends. What if someone she met online is pretending to be her?”

  He thought it over for a few seconds. Nodded. “I suppose that’s possible.”

  “I have her computer. I sorta borrowed it last night after I...” I coughed, to clear the guilt from my throat. My throat cleared. My conscience didn’t. ”I sort of searched her apartment.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t find anything or you would’ve told me, right?” Placing a hand at my waist, he started guiding me toward the door.

  Figuring I was getting escorted out so he could get back to work, I shuffled along, rather than putting up a fight. “Right. Absolutely. Didn’t find a thing. Nothing suspicious at all.” He followed me out, into the hallway. “Where are we heading?” I asked, over my shoulder as he propelled me toward the lobby.

  “To your place. To take a look at that computer.”

  Happy to be doing something to help my friend, I picked up the pace. “Okay.” Outside, I took a step off the front walk.

  Rob caught my wrist, halting me. “I’ll meet you there in about a half hour.”

  “Okay.” I sped home so I’d have a little time to clean up. I took care of the half dozen Twinkie puddles she’d left for me, refilled the dog dishes, let them outside to take care of business and then freshened up the makeup. With ten minutes left, I even fluffed my hair a little. I was on my way back to the kitchen, realizing I was starving, when a knock at the front door signaled Rob’s arrival.

  As I pulled open the door, I said, “I was about to--What is that?“

  Hands full--a big brown paper bag in his arms--he shoved a bottle of wine into my hands and stepped inside. “I brought dinner.”

  “Wow, thanks. That was very thoughtful. I was just about to call in an order.” I read the name on the bag. It was from my favorite Italian restaurant. “You read my mind.”

  “No, I just know you.” He set the bag on the table and gave me a crooked smile. My heart did a little flip flop at the sight of that smile. “I’m guessing you have a jug of water, a mostly empty jar of grape jelly and a twelve-pack of diet cola in the refrigerator.”

  “Ha! You’re wrong.” I dug the corkscrew out of the drawer and removed the wrapper from the wine bottle. “It’s strawberry jelly. I’ve upgraded.”

  “Glad to hear that.” Moving closer, he reached for the bottle with one hand, the corkscrew with the other. Focused on opening the bottle, he said, “I’ve done some ‘upgrading’ myself.” I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about fruit preserves. He pushed down on the corkscrew handles, forcing the cork out of the bottle.

  I was expecting him to explain what he meant by upgrading. When he didn’t, I asked, “So, are you going to tell me or are you going to make me ask?” I collected a couple of glasses and plates from the cupboard and headed toward the table with them.

  He slanted a wicked grin my way as he gently pulled the glasses out of my hands. “I thought I’d let you figure it out on your own.” He’d always been devious. I should have seen that coming.

  I bit back a sarcastic comeback, knowing where that would lead and started pulling foam containers out of the bag. Rob set the wine glasses on the coffee table in the living room and remoted on the television. The voice of a local news anchor filled the awkward silence while we loaded our plates with pasta.

  Just as we sat down, the anchorman said, “A local woman who has been arrested for one murder is being questioned about three similar killings.”

  Rob and I exchanged glances. He cranked up the volume and I listened to the sketchy details, painful as it was. Accompanying the report were some shots of the house where the most recent victim was found, along with a brief interview with the neighbor we had talked to. Following that damning testimony were some quick comments from random people who lived on the street. That anchorman was doing a damn good job of not only trying, but also convicting, and sentencing my best friend. Right there. On WDTR. Channel 6. There was no reason to have a trial.

  I stared down at my plate. My appetite was gone. Vanished. Just like my best friend’s prospects for a bright and happy future.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, rubbed. A glass of wine was put in my line of sight. I accepted it. I downed every drop in a series of gulps.

  “Maybe this media attention will help her get a better attorney,” Rob said.

  There was that, I supposed.

  Rob took the empty glass from me. I decided to empty his too, while he was refilling mine. And then, when he returned with my freshly-filled glass, I emptied that one as well.

  He gave me a worried look and took both glasses into the kitchen. Upon returning, with two full glasses of ice water, he said, “I need you sober if we’re going to get anything accomplished tonight.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Eat.”

  I forced some food down my throat. It got easier after a while. Before I knew it, my plate was empty and I was feeling pretty good. The alcohol was doing what it should--lifting my spirits. But it wasn’t clouding my mind...too much.

  While I put away the leftover food, Rob got the laptop up and running. By the time I returned to the living room, Rob was skimming Liz’s emails.

  “Find anything?” I asked.

  “Nothing yet. She gets a lot of SPAM.”

  “So do I. So does everyone. Don’t they?”

  “I don’t.” He gave me a smartass grin.

  So I stuck out my tongue. “Well, good for you.”

  He went back to reading email while I looked over his shoulder and tried to pretend he didn’t smell amazing. It was hard. Very. Before I realized it, I was leaning in. Close. Closer. His hair looked silky. I could remember combing my fingers through the curls. They were soft. Silky. It would be so easy to reach...

  “What do we have here?” he said.

  “What is it?” My eyes snapped to the screen. I saw nothing too
intriguing, certainly nothing more fascinating than his face.

  “This person here. She’s calling herself Lyz with a Y.” Navigating the page of an online forum of some kind, he moved the mouse to the Profile button and clicked. A photograph popped up, and at first glance I thought it was Liz’s picture. I realized a second later it wasn’t.

  “Wow,” I said. “Talk about a doppelganger.”

  “She has Redford listed as her hometown. And we have a last name. Shoemaker.”

  “Redford’s not too far from the crime scene. Could she be the real killer?”

  “It’s too soon to say.” He poked around the site some more.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I was hoping she’d have an email listed, some way to contact her.” He scowled. “Damn.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’m going to get in touch with some guys down at the Plymouth PD. See if this Lyz Shoemaker has any priors. And if that gets me nowhere, I’ll talk to a buddy of mine. See if he can track her IPS. That could take a couple of days. If only I knew someone at the Secretary of State’s office...”

  “A couple of days beats twenty to life.”

  “I hear you.” He stood. “I’ve gotta go.”

  I stood too, preparing to follow him to the front door. He hesitated before leaving, giving me a chance to say, “Thank you. For dinner--which was really sweet, if I didn’t say that earlier--and for the help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  His smile was adorable, and it made my heart go all pittery-pattery. “Glad to help.”

  We stared at each other for a tense moment.

  I broke the silence. “Listen, if there’s anything I can ever do to--“

  “Don’t. I’m helping you because I want to. Not because I expect anything in return.”

  “Still, if there’s--“

  “There isn’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “Goodnight.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. My heart did a triple-flip. Before I could stutter out a goodnight back, he left.

  Alone. I was alone again. Slightly buzzed. Worried about my friend. It was dark. Quiet. Too quiet. I let Einstein and Twinkie back in. They immediately found a cozy spot on the couch, curled up and fell asleep. Pacing back and forth in front of the couch, I tried to think of what to do next.

  Beep.

  The computer had just beeped at me.

  I glanced down. A little window had popped up. It looked like a chat box.

  Hey! Are you there? It said in the box.

  I decided to play along. Yeah. I’m here.

  Wow, am I glad to hear that! I saw you on the news. What’s going on?

  I looked at the chatter’s ID. Clicked on it, bringing up another window with her Yahoo page. It was Lyz Shoemaker.

  Hot damn!

  Oh shit.

  What if I screwed this up? What if I said something that would scare her off?

  I typed, I don’t know. They tried to blame some woman’s murder on me. Can you imagine?

  Wow. That’s terrible! So what happened

  I got a better lawyer and I’m out on bond.

  Good!

  Listen, I need to talk to you. Can you come to my place?

  Sure! When?

  I hesitated. Now’s good.

  Be there in twenty.

  Okay. See you then.

  I grabbed my purse, my car keys, and my phone and raced out to my car. As I drove, I called Rob’s number. Every time I got his effing voicemail. The fifth time it clicked over, I left a message, telling him where I was going.

  I prayed I wasn’t about to become Lyz Shoemaker’s next victim.

  Five

  My hands had never trembled so badly as when I parked up in front of my best friend’s apartment building. I dropped the keys as I was pulling them from the ignition. And I fumbled my phone while trying to stuff it into my pocket. But, thankfully, I let myself in Liz’s apartment with mere minutes to spare. I had just enough time to second-guess my plan. And almost enough time to talk myself out of it.

  But then I heard the knock at the door.

  It was too late.

  I armed myself with a small knife from the kitchen, tucking it into the waist of my jeans before going to answer the door.

  I was startled by how much Lyz Shoemaker looked like my best friend. They could have been twins.

  “Who are you?” she snapped.

  “I’m a friend of Liz’s.” I stepped aside. “Will you come in? I’d like to talk to you.”

  “About what?” Lyz asked, peering over my shoulder. “Where’s Liz?”

  “She’s not here right now.”

  “She’s still in jail, isn’t she?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Just to ask you for some help. I’m trying to help Liz get out of jail. I know she didn’t kill anyone. She wouldn’t do something like that. And, for the most part, I’m going it alone. I’ve hit a dead end...” Bad choice of words. “Anyway, I was hoping you might agree to help me?”

  “Help you how? I don’t know anything.” She didn’t come inside. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “I’m just trying to figure out why anyone would want to pin these murders on Liz.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “Well if I had to guess I’d say it was to hide their own guilt.”

  “Sure. That’s logical.” Still standing at the door, I motioned her inside. “Please? Will you talk to me? For just a few minutes?”

  She started to step in the door, hesitated, then backed off. “No, I think I’d better go.”

  I was about to try to change her mind when my cell phone started to vibrate. I pulled it out and took a look. Rob. Finally. A little flustered, I motioned for her to hold on and poked the green button, answering the call with a snappy, “You’re about a half hour too late.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m standing in Liz’s living room...watching our prime suspect drive away.”

  He didn’t say anything immediately. I could imagine him staring at me with condemning eyes, nostrils flaring.

  “You’re angry,” I said.

  “Yes, of course I’m angry.”

  “There’s no reason to be. I hardly spoke to her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I slammed the door, heading back to the kitchen to retrieve my purse and car keys. “She was the one who IM’d me--or rather Liz. I responded, asked her if she’d meet me here.”

  “You told her who you were? Or rather, you told her in the IM who you weren’t?”

  “Well, not exactly. She was a little surprised when she arrived.”

  “And...?”

  “And that was about it. I told her I was trying to help Liz get out of jail. She sort of acted like she might help and then changed her mind and ran off. The second my phone rang, she broke land speed records, racing back to her car.”

  “Humph.”

  “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know we suspect her...”

  “If you ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll personally wring that pretty little neck of yours.”

  “Awww, isn’t that nice? You think my neck is pretty?”

  “This isn’t the time for jokes.”

  I sobered. Of course he was right. But his tone was ticking me off. “Sure. Of course. I know. It was stupid tricking some stranger into meeting me and then coming over here by myself. Now, if you’re done yelling at me, I think I’ll hang up.”

  “You’re going home, right?”

  “Yes, I’m going home.” I bit back another sarcastic comeback.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, after I’ve had some time to track down that information we were looking for.”

  “Fine. Bye.”

  He clicked off without saying goodbye.

  I dropped my phone into my purse, fisted my keys, and grumbled my way out to my car. Just as I was yanking open the door, someone grabbed my arm.
<
br />   I whirled around.

  Lyz. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to help.”

  Pulling back, and keenly aware of how quiet and dark it was outside now, I forced a smile. “Great! Listen, it’s late. I was just about to head home. How about you give me your phone number, and I’ll call you tomorrow? We can meet and talk strategy.”

  “Sure.” She looked expectantly at me, lifted her empty hands.

  “Oh. Need something to write with?”

  “That would help.”

  “I dug an old fast food receipt and a pen out of my purse, handed them to her and dove into the driver’s seat, trying not to be too obvious. I slammed the door while she used the hood as a desk. I opened the window when she straightened up, shoved a hand out, took the paper with what I hoped was a genuine sounding thanks and drove off.

  Maybe meeting with a possible killer had been a really stupid thing to do, but at least I had her phone number. That wasn’t something Rob, with all his contacts at the police department, could say.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, I wasted no time. I called Rob the minute I was vertical. Okay, I guzzled a full cup of coffee first. And I showered. And dressed. And I let the dogs out and refilled their dish with crunchies. Then I finally got aroudn to calling him. I multitasked while the phone rang, going hands-free with the speakerphone so I could put on my makeup while I was talking.

  Rob answered on the fifth ring. “Hello,” he grumbled.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No.”

  Snappy. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “A little.”

  “Well, don’t be. I got a phone number,” I boasted, fully expecting some form of congratulations for my heroic work.

  “Yeah? Well, I doubt you’ll care in a minute.”

  “What do you mean? Why?”

  “Liz is being released. The charges were dropped.”

  “What?” It was too good to believe. I was almost afraid to feel glad. “What happened?”

  “I guess some evidence came in last night, turned the case on its side.”

  “No way!” I checked the clock. It was almost eight-thirty. I had to be at work by nine. “Any idea what time she’ll be released?”