A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

  “You found her, didn’t you?”

  Lance sat with his elbows on his knees and stared down at his clasped hands.

  “Did the police tell you that?”

  “I saw you leaving the house when the taxi dropped me off. I wondered what you were doing there. When I found out Willow was…gone and the police told me a neighbor identified her, I realized they wouldn’t let anyone behind the tape unless…”

  “…I’d found her.”

  He sat up straight and looked at her. “How, how did you find her?”

  “Sekhmet left her collar on my lawn. I went to return it.” She dug the collar out of the pocket of her shorts and handed it to him. “I forgot all about it. Here.”

  He held it in his hands and stared down at it with the ghost of a smile on his face. “She’s always shedding it. Don’t know why Willow kept on putting it back on. The cat obviously doesn’t like it. I’ve lost track of how many times someone returned it to us.” He frowned. “What about Sekhmet? Someone needs to take care of her. Did you see her in the house? The police wouldn’t let me inside so I couldn’t check on her.”

  “I didn’t see her anywhere, but you know how cats can hide. I didn’t get the chance to look through the house, only the kitchen.” Rory clamped her mouth shut, afraid she’d said too much.

  “Is that where you found Willow? In the kitchen?”

  She looked down at her hands, unsure what to say.

  “Please, tell me what you saw. Do you think she suffered?”

  “I don’t think the police would want me to talk about it.” And you really don’t want to know what she looked like, Rory thought.

  He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please, I need to know.”

  She shook her head, reluctant to talk about the gruesome scene. “You don’t want that, believe me. You’re better off not knowing.”

  “Why don’t I give you my number. If you see Sekhmet, could you let me know?”

  He was putting his phone number into her cell phone when Mrs. Griswold entered the room bearing a tray with ice-filled glasses, a pitcher of tea and a sugar bowl. She raised an eyebrow as Lance handed the cell back to Rory.

  “Just getting his number so I can keep him updated on the cat,” she hastened to explain.

  Mrs. Griswold sat down in an armchair and poured the tea. They sipped in silence until she finally said, “You’ve had some shocking news. How can we help?”

  “The police aren’t telling me anything. They won’t even tell me how she died. I have a right to know what happened,” Lance said.

  “I can’t tell you much. I didn’t find her.” Mrs. Griswold looked at Rory and raised an eyebrow in a question.

  Rory shuddered when an image of the knife protruding from Willow’s chest popped into her mind. When she shook her head without saying anything, Lance turned to Mrs. Griswold and said, “What about you? Do you know anything? Willow told me you’re the Neighborhood Watch block captain.”

  “The lights were on in the house when I found her,” Rory said. “It probably happened after dark. When did Willow usually eat dinner?”

  “Late. Why are you asking? Is that when it happened, when she was cooking dinner?”

  Rory kept quiet, sure she’d said too much this time.

  “Did either of you see anything last night? Anyone lurking around the house?” Lance said.

  Rory shook her head. “My eyes were glued to the computer screen until I went to bed.”

  Mrs. Griswold sat back in her chair and placed her glass on the side table next to her. “Nothing I would call unusual. I’m not sure I should say anything else until I talk to the police.”

  The color drained from his face. “She was seeing someone else, wasn’t she? You can tell me. It’s okay. I’ve known there was something going on for a while.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. They’re just friends.”

  Rory looked from one to the other. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The chief,” Mrs. Griswold reluctantly said.

  “As in Vista Beach Police Chief Marshall?”

  The older woman nodded.

  “He stopped by last night. He didn’t stay long. I’m sure it was all aboveboard. Probably knew you were out of town so he was checking on her.”

  “A lot of good that did,” Lance said.

  “When was this?” Rory asked.

  “Around eight. I heard the chimes from the Catholic church a few blocks from here.”

  “Nothing else?” he asked.

  Mrs. Griswold hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking her head.

  Lance set his glass on the coffee table and stood up. “Thanks for your hospitality.” He turned to Rory and said, “You have my number. Call me if you see Sekhmet. I’d like to know she’s okay.”

  Rory nodded her head. After Mrs. Griswold showed him out and they finished their iced tea, Rory loaded everything on the tray and carried it into the kitchen at the back of the house. The room’s windows faced the backyard and Willow’s property next door. While the older woman washed, Rory dried.

  As she worked, her mind wandered to the relationship between Lance and Willow. There must be twenty years’ difference in age between the two of them. She wondered what had attracted them to each other.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Griswold said, “It’s the sex.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what keeps them together. Can’t beat it with an older woman. We know what we’re doing.”

  Rory almost dropped the glass she was drying. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure how to respond. Mrs. Griswold kept on washing dishes and putting them in the drainer, oblivious to Rory’s discomfort.

  “I don’t mean to criticize, but he did just lose his girlfriend,” she said. “You shouldn’t throw yourself at him like that, pretending to get his phone number so you can tell him about the cat. You can’t be that hard up.”

  “But, I didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Rory sputtered.

  Mrs. Griswold gave her a knowing look and continued with the dishes. “I didn’t want to say it when Lance was here, but Chief Marshall visited Willow a lot. At least once a week.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A while. Not sure they were having an affair though. He didn’t stay long enough, if you know what I mean.”

  Rory was hanging the wet towel on the rack when they heard a shout outside. They both looked out the window to see a woman in a tank top and flowered leggings with a crimson streak in her black hair scrambling over the stucco wall separating the two properties. When the woman landed on the ground, she crouched down and looked wild-eyed around her as if looking for a place to hide.

  Without skipping a beat, Mrs. Griswold opened the back door and silently motioned for Veronica Justice to come inside. The reporter for the weekly newspaper, the Vista Beach View, raced across the lawn through the door and sat down at the kitchen table, a little out of breath. Mrs. Griswold grabbed a broom and stepped out onto the patio. She’d barely started sweeping when a uniformed officer poked his head over the wall.

  Rory’s neighbor paused and looked inquiringly at the officer who, after a quick look around the yard and down the side of the house, shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into Willow’s backyard.

  As soon as he dropped out of sight, Mrs. Griswold came back inside. She returned the broom to the nearby closet and stood in front of Veronica. “Now, young lady, explain yourself. Tell me why I shouldn’t call that officer over and tell him you’re here. What were you doing next door?”

  Beneath lids painted with vibrant eye makeup, the reporter looked at her and said, “My job.”

  Mrs. Griswold raised an eyebrow. Veronica sat back in her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest, revealing a long scrape on her right forearm.

/>   “You’re bleeding.” Rory nodded at the scratch.

  “Am I?”

  Veronica looked down at her arm.

  Mrs. Griswold took a first aid kit out of a nearby cupboard. While she cleaned and bandaged the wound, Rory sat down at the table and said, “Why were you running? Did you disturb the crime scene?”

  Veronica’s nose ring quivered as she shook her head. “I was just looking around.”

  Rory’s eyes narrowed. “The police didn’t invite you in, did they?” She couldn’t see Detective Green letting a reporter from the local newspaper wander around the crime scene, especially after he’d specifically warned Rory about talking to the press.

  “Not exactly.” Veronica winced as Mrs. Griswold slapped on a bandage. “I sort of popped over the fence from the property on the other side. No one was home,” she continued a bit defensively. “I was careful not to disturb anything in Willow’s backyard.”

  “So why was that policeman chasing you?” Mrs. Griswold asked.

  “Stop ganging up on me.” Veronica turned to Rory. “You were there. You found the body, right? Tell me what you saw.” She pulled a small notepad out of the tote bag she used as her purse.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I overheard one of the officers talking to another. They were marveling at how you keep on finding bodies. How you’re a regular Jessica Fletcher. Three of them in five months. Kind of suspicious is what they thought.”

  Rory groaned inwardly. Not this again. “I have nothing to say. You’re going to have to find out through official channels. How did you even know about Willow?”

  “Please! There are police cars on the block and crime scene tape around the house. That’s a pretty big hint.”

  “But how did you know there was police activity on this street in the first place? Your office is downtown.”

  “A source told me they saw a bunch of police cars on the block so I popped by for a look-see. With that crowd outside, it wasn’t hard to find out who lives in the house. Look, I’m just trying to report the news, keep the police honest.”

  “I’m sure they’ll tell you what they can, when they can.”

  “Will they?”

  Rory studied her, sensing she knew more than she was saying. “What do you know?”

  “You can read all about it in the paper.”

  “But that doesn’t come out until Thursday. That’s almost a week away. Wouldn’t it be old news by then?”

  “Check the paper’s website. I’ll have an update before then. I might even talk about it on Vista Beach Confidential,” Veronica said, referring to her blog where she reported on happenings around the city.

  “What aren’t you saying?”

  “I’ll give you a hint. Not everyone liked her business practices.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Check VBC or the paper’s website.” She closed her notepad and stuffed it in her bag.

  Veronica thanked Mrs. Griswold, then slung her tote bag over her shoulder and headed toward the front door. As Rory watched her walk away, she frowned and wondered what the reporter had found out about Willow and if it had anything to do with her untimely death.

  Chapter 6

  As soon as Rory stepped inside her house, she cautiously moved from room to room in the twelve-hundred-square-foot structure, checking for any signs of an intruder. She breathed a sigh of relief when everything appeared undisturbed.

  She jumped when her cell phone rang. She laughed at herself, pulled her phone out of the pocket of her shorts and sank down onto the sofa.

  “Just wanted to let you know I might be a little late. I’m showing a client a couple houses and they’re not here yet,” Liz said. “Don’t worry though, we’ll still have plenty of time to work on your makeup.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to going out tonight.” Rory couldn’t see herself making small talk with someone she didn’t know after the day’s gruesome discovery.

  The hum of background voices filled the silence as Liz digested the comment.

  “What happened? You were fine with it this morning. Do you need me to take you to the doctor? Or are you worried about Kit? You’ve done everything you can. Don’t worry, Dashing D’s on the job. He’ll find him.”

  “It’s not that.” Rory took a deep breath. “I found Willow today. Someone killed her.”

  “Wispy Willow’s dead?” Liz’s voice rose briefly then fell to a whisper. “You didn’t find her in your garden, did you?”

  Rory shivered as she recalled finding the body of her painting teacher in one of her flowerbeds five months before. “Not this time. She was in her kitchen. Looks like she surprised someone breaking into her house.”

  Liz sucked in her breath. “That’s horrible. How did they get in?”

  “Through an open window in the back. At least that’s what Det—Martin thinks. There was a screen propped up against one of the kitchen windows.”

  “It’s Martin now, is it? Is that why you don’t want to go tonight? Have you forgotten he’s got a girlfriend?”

  “They broke up.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Not sure exactly. He told me about it when I saw him at the hospital yesterday.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I figured you already knew. You always know everything before I do.”

  “I’m slipping.” Rory could almost hear her friend shaking her head in disbelief. “I think you should still go tonight. It’ll be good for you. Keep your mind off today. And, if there’s someone running around the city breaking into houses, I don’t like the idea of you being home alone. At least I have a condo with a security system.”

  “I can’t run scared. The police are patrolling the neighborhood. I’ll make sure I close the windows before I go to bed.”

  “It’s only dinner. We don’t have to stay out late.”

  Rory sank farther down into the sofa cushions and thought about what Liz had said. Getting dressed up might be a good thing for her. Better than sitting at home by herself, thinking about what she’d found two doors down and wondering if the intruder was going to break into her house next. “I did buy a new dress. Hate for it to go to waste.”

  “Good,” Liz said. “I’ll come over as soon as I finish with my client.”

  After she hung up, Rory settled down at her desk to work on her conferencing software. Her mind kept wandering so often that a change that should have taken only a few minutes stretched into half an hour. Every time she heard a noise outside, she got up to see what had caused it, but it was only the usual neighborhood sounds: cars coming and going, dogs barking, neighbors walking by.

  She abandoned her software and turned to her weekend cleaning chores. By the time Liz arrived, the place was neat and tidy and she’d changed into her new dress.

  Rory settled into a chair in the kitchen while Liz laid out her supplies on the table. She was finishing up the eye makeup and deciding on the lipstick color when Rory’s cell phone chirped, alerting her to a new post on Vista Beach Confidential.

  An article titled “Landlord from Hell?” had been posted moments before. It began, “When Willow Bingen bought the old Walker building downtown six months ago, she promised her tenants everything would stay the same. But the owner of Beach Healing and Acupuncture soon changed her tune…”

  “What are you doing? I can’t finish your makeup with your head bent down like that.”

  “You’ve got to read this.”

  Rory showed the screen to Liz, who took the phone and pored over the post.

  “Looks like Willow was adding a CAM provision to her tenant’s leases,” Liz said.

  “I didn’t even know she owned the building next to my mom’s. What’s a CAM provision?”

  “Stands for Common Area Maintenance. It requires a tenant to pay a s
hare of the operating expenses of the building. They weren’t happy about the change.”

  “She couldn’t just add it, could she?” Rory asked.

  “When a lease is up for renewal, everything’s up for negotiation.” Liz placed the phone on the kitchen table out of Rory’s reach and went back to work. When she finished, she stepped back, cocked her head and studied her friend. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she handed Rory a mirror. “You’ll knock his socks off.” She was putting away her makeup supplies when Rory’s cell crowed. Liz glanced down at its display and pushed the phone across the table. “It’s your mom.”

  After a short conversation, Rory turned to Liz. “Do we have time to make a quick stop before we head to the restaurant?”

  “I think so. What’s up?”

  “Mom’s worried about Dawn. She called in sick today and now she’s not answering her phone. Mom’s stuck at the store and wants us to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Dawn seemed fine last night.”

  “Maybe it’s one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. Let’s go.”

  They grabbed their things and headed out the door. A short time later, Rory eased her car into a parking space in front of the Spanish-style house she’d visited the previous evening.

  Liz peered through the passenger window. “Looks pretty quiet. Do you think she’s home?”

  “Her car’s in the driveway.”

  Rory led the way up the path to the front door and rang the bell. When no one answered, she walked to a nearby window, cupped her hands around her eyes and peered inside at the living room. A pale face stared back at her from the other side of the glass. Rory yelped and jumped back. She’d just finished describing what she’d seen to Liz when the front door opened and Dawn poked her head out.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t hear the bell.” She covered her hand with a tissue and coughed. “Did you need something?”

  “Mom sent us to check on you. You didn’t answer your phone so she got worried.”

  “I was sleeping so soundly, I guess I didn’t hear it ringing. Tell your mother I’m feeling much better. I want to be one hundred percent for work on Monday, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down on the couch and get some more rest.”