A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

“I offered to help him find a place to live and pay for it, but he wasn’t interested. He felt like living on the streets was his penance for not taking care of his wife. He felt he’d failed her. They had to sell pretty much everything they owned to pay her medical bills. It still wasn’t enough. That’s why he was homeless.”

  “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you knew him. When he first went into the hospital, I asked you about him. You could have at least told me his name.”

  “He asked me not to tell anyone we knew each other or anything about his past. If I told you, you would ask about his background, and he didn’t want to talk about that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me when he died?”

  “Honestly? I was embarrassed.” Rory waited as Tripp gathered his thoughts and struggled for the right words. Finally, he continued, “I’d already lied to you. I didn’t think you would believe my explanation. You haven’t known me very long.”

  “I would have understood.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Can we put it behind us?” Tripp looked at her, an earnest expression on his face.

  “Don’t lie to me again though, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “What about Kit’s things? His bike and clothes are at my mother’s store.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and take care of them. Give everything away to charity. Something that helps the homeless. That seems right.”

  “There’s a storage locker too, but I forgot the key. Some of your sister’s things might be in there. You should look through everything. You might want some of it. I’ll bring the key to you later.”

  “Sounds good.” Tripp picked up a pen and the pad of paper on the pew next to him. “Here’s our ideas about the service. Let me know what you think.”

  When Rory got home, Teresa and Liz were returning from getting dinner, carrying bags from a local Chinese restaurant. They’d barely gotten inside when there was a knock on the door.

  “Trent! What are you doing here?” Teresa said.

  “I want to talk, for real this time.”

  “Go ahead, eat your dinner,” Teresa said to the other two women. “This could take a while.”

  Rory and Liz carried the food into the kitchen, leaving the couple alone in the living room. They ate their dinner to the murmur of voices from the other room. They were finishing when Teresa entered the kitchen, suitcase in hand.

  “You’re leaving?”

  Rory set her chopsticks down on the table.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re going to try to work things out.” She put the key to the house on the kitchen counter. “Thanks for everything.”

  Rory gave her a hug. “I hope things work out for you. Let me know if you need anything.”

  The three of them walked to the front of the house, where Teresa’s husband was waiting for her.

  “Do you think they’ll make it?” Liz asked as they watched the couple get in their respective cars.

  “I hope so.” Rory headed back into the kitchen and began putting away the leftovers. “Did you ever contact your friend at the police station about Lance?”

  “The police confirmed he was in San Diego that night, though they can’t account for every minute of his time.”

  “Then he could have driven back that evening.”

  “They obviously don’t think he did it if they arrested Dawn instead. What did Tripp say when you saw him?”

  Rory told her friend about their conversation at the church.

  “Not a good situation for either Tripp or Kit, I think.” Liz poked her head in the refrigerator. “Are there any of Teresa’s cookies left?”

  “I thought you were full.”

  Liz pointed at her stomach. “Didn’t you know? I have a separate stomach just for dessert.”

  Rory shook her head and shoved the cookie jar across the counter. “Be my guest.”

  Chapter 27

  Wednesday morning, Rory dropped Kit’s belongings off at a local charity, keeping a couple of his books for herself to remember him by. After making sure nothing of his was left at her mother’s store, she exited Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint and headed down the sidewalk. When she passed Beach Healing and Acupuncture, she exchanged waves with Asia, who was updating the display in the store’s window.

  As Rory walked down the block, she sensed someone watching her. She looked behind her, but all she saw were customers going in and out of stores or studying window displays. As far as she could tell, no one was paying particular attention to her. She continued on her way, but couldn’t shake off the feeling of being followed.

  She took her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans, pausing every few feet to take a selfie. After snapping several pictures, she stopped at a light to check the photos. All she saw in the background was the same unrecognizable brown blur.

  As soon as she crossed the street, Rory increased her pace to put distance between her and her shadow and ducked into the first alleyway she came across. She crouched behind a dumpster, her gaze trained on the entrance, and waited to see if anyone would stop.

  Moments later, a woman dressed in brown paused at the mouth of the dim alley and peered into the shadows. She was taking a step forward when someone jumped her from behind and pushed her to the ground face first, pinning her arms behind her back.

  “Gotcha!” Asia said.

  Rory stepped out from behind the dumpster and stared open-mouthed at the clerk from Beach Healing. “Asia, what are you doing?”

  “Capturing your stalker, of course. You must have known someone was following you.”

  Rory gestured toward the woman who was wriggling on the ground, trying to get out of Asia’s fierce grip. “Let her up.”

  The clerk dragged the other woman to her feet and stood behind her, holding onto her wrists so she couldn’t get away.

  “Marcia?” Rory stared in surprise at the woman she’d met at the gym. “Why were you following me?”

  “He’s mine, you know.” Marcia jutted her chin at Rory. “Now that grandma’s gone, Lance is mine.” She twisted around, trying to get free, but Asia held fast.

  “There’s nothing going on between the two of us,” Rory said.

  “You can’t fool me. I saw how he treated you at the gym, pretending not to know you, then taking you out in the hallway so he could be alone with you.”

  “Really, there’s nothing going on. I barely know him.”

  “Then why do you have his number in your phone?”

  “How do you…?” Rory thought back to Sunday evening in the bar when her phone hadn’t been in the box as she’d expected. “Oh. You took my phone.”

  “Borrowed it when the bartender went into the back room. The place was so busy no one noticed. You really should lock it, you know. Otherwise anyone can get at the information.”

  “You sent that note too, didn’t you? And that was your silver SUV following me.” When Marcia didn’t respond, Rory continued, “Did you kill Willow so you could have Lance to yourself?”

  A look of horror came across the woman’s face and she stopped wriggling. “No! I would never do that.”

  “Where were you the Friday Willow died?”

  “I was in San Diego, on a mini-vacation. If you don’t believe me, you can check with my hotel. If you’ll tell your goon to stop manhandling me, I’ll show you proof.”

  “Let her go,” Rory said to Asia.

  She let go of her grip and stepped back, eyeing the other woman warily.

  Marcia picked her purse off the ground, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Rory.

  Rory stared at the date on the receipt for a hotel in San Diego. “This is the same hotel where Lance was staying.”

  “I know. I saw him there. Imagine my surprise. We even had dinner in the same restaurant down the blo
ck.”

  “Was it a surprise? Or did you follow him down there?” Asia said. “Were you stalking Willow’s boyfriend too?”

  “I like to keep track of him, that’s all. Make sure he’s okay.”

  “What time did you see him on Friday?” Rory asked.

  “He had dinner by himself. Finished around eight, then he went to a local bar. He was there until at least midnight. Got so drunk I doubt he even remembers where he was that night. I watched to make sure he got back to the hotel safely before I went to bed.”

  If he was in San Diego until midnight, he couldn’t have driven back and killed Willow, Rory thought. And neither could Marcia, though that still left his other fans. One of them could have been as rabid about him as the woman in front of her.

  Rory was thinking over this new information when a deep voice said, “What’s going on here?”

  The three women turned toward the alley entrance, where Detective Green stood looking at them.

  “What are you doing here?” Rory said.

  “Someone called the police station and mentioned your name. Said you were in trouble. Something about someone following you. Is one of you going to tell me what’s going on?” He looked at each of the women in turn.

  They stared at each other, then all started talking at once.

  “I wasn’t stalking her,” Marcia blurted out.

  Asia pointed to Marcia. “She was following Rory down the street so I called you and followed her.”

  “I thought someone was following me so I ducked in here,” Rory said.

  The detective rubbed his temples as if he felt a headache coming on. “Let me get this straight. You…” he pointed at Marcia, “…may or may not have been following her.” He gazed at Rory. “And you…” he pointed at Asia, “…followed Marcia here.” He stared at the three of them. “Was anyone hurt? Does anyone want to lodge a complaint?”

  All three women shook their heads.

  “Okay. I’ll let you go for now, but stop following people around. If I ever hear one of you is harassing someone again…” He left the threat hanging and waved his hand in dismissal. Asia and Marcia exited the alley and turned onto the sidewalk, going in opposite directions. When Rory started to follow them, he said to her, “Stay right there. I want to talk with you.” He paced in front of the alley and finally said, an exasperated expression on his face, “When you thought you were being followed, why didn’t you call me?”

  “My cell phone battery was dead, and you know how hard it is to find a pay phone these days.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A faint cock-a-doodle-doo came from the pocket of her jeans. Rory looked around as if trying to find the source of the sound while she casually put her hand inside the pocket to stop the crowing.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to answer that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Moments later, three quacks sounded, a few seconds apart.

  “Someone really wants to get hold of you.” He ran his hand through his hair. “What am I going to do with you? Next time you think someone’s following you, call me.” Another quack. “You’d better find out what they want.”

  Detective Green walked out of the alley, mumbling to himself.

  Rory checked her phone. One missed phone call and four texts, all from the same person. She dialed the familiar number. “What’s going on?”

  “Candy, she needs to talk to us,” Liz said.

  “Shoot! We forgot to tell her we didn’t need her help anymore.”

  “Forget about that. She says it’s urgent. Meet me at the park next to my office right now.”

  A short time later, Rory and Liz stood on the sidewalk in front of the park where they had agreed to meet Candy. Perched on a slight hill, it sloped down toward the street below. With an unobstructed view of the ocean, the park was sandwiched between a deli on one side and Liz’s real estate office on the other, a green oasis in the middle of the concrete block. A half dozen benches were scattered across the grass, all facing the ocean. At this time of day, only two of them were occupied.

  “Why aren’t we meeting at Candy’s office? It’s not far,” Rory said.

  “She said something about it being more private here.”

  “Hard to believe this is better than her office. Seems she has more control over whether anyone’s listening to us there.”

  Liz shrugged. “Maybe she’s practicing her clandestine-meeting skills. There she is.”

  She pointed to a woman with a bubble haircut sitting on a wooden bench in the middle of the grassy area.

  As they approached the bench, Candy raised her newspaper so it obscured her face and pretended to be reading. As soon as they sat down beside her, she said, “You didn’t tell me you were getting me involved in a murder investigation.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rory said.

  “Don’t look at me when you talk,” Candy hissed. She placed a folder on the bench beside her and slid it over without looking at them. “Look inside.”

  Liz picked it up and opened it, displaying its contents so Rory could see. At the top of a stack of papers was a grainy photo of a woman with a name written below it.

  “That’s Willow,” Rory said. “Why does it say Angel Portrero?”

  “Willow Bingen and Angel Portrero are the same person. Angel disappeared off the face of the earth six months ago. No one she knew in Santa Barbara has seen her since. She changed her name and job and moved down here.”

  “How did you make the connection?” Rory leaned her head toward Liz, pretending to direct her comments toward her instead of the other woman on the bench.

  Candy let the paper drop to her lap for a fraction of a second before she remembered she was supposed to be covering her face. “I went looking for a picture to show around. Wasn’t easy since she had no social media presence. Finally found one of her on one of her old coworker’s Facebook pages.”

  “What about Zoe and Christopher? What did you find out about them?”

  “Didn’t get to them. I stopped as soon as I realized Angel was the same person who had been murdered recently. You’re going to have to continue on your own. I’m not interfering with a police investigation. I can’t jeopardize my license. Everything I found is in the folder. Something hinky’s going on. When I contacted the people she used to work with at the hospital, they clammed up, said she was laid off, but wouldn’t say anything else. There’s something fishy about her departure, something they wouldn’t tell me. Maybe you’ll have better luck in person. I’ve got to go.” Candy folded her newspaper and stood up. “Wait five minutes before you leave. Good luck. Next time I’m charging you.”

  The two women watched the private investigator walk across the grass, then split up the stack of neatly printed pages to go over.

  “She was a nurse in the ICU. Laid off like Candy said.” Rory flipped to the next page. “Looks like she left the profession after that. There’s no record of her working at a hospital anywhere. That’s odd. What do you have?”

  “Transcriptions of interviews with coworkers. Nothing jumps out at me, but something about the answers makes me wonder if they’re hiding something.” Liz handed the pages to Rory who read them, then nodded in agreement.

  “I wonder if the police know about all this,” Rory said as she handed the pages back to Liz, who stacked them neatly and placed them back in the folder.

  “Didn’t you say Dawn told them her real name. They would have found out, wouldn’t they?”

  “Angel wasn’t the name Dawn mentioned.”

  “Three different names. What’s that about?” Liz said.

  “Sounds like she changed her name every time she ran away from something. From Laura to Angel when she left her family and from Angel to Willow when she left Santa Barbara.”

  “You could call Dashing
D to make sure they know about this third name, but I wouldn’t want to get Candy in trouble. She hasn’t had her license long,” Liz said.

  “We don’t have to tell him where we got the information. We could just tell him the name and let him draw his own conclusions.”

  Rory made the call, steeling herself for an interrogation, but when Detective Green answered he didn’t seem surprised by the news.

  “What did he say?” Liz asked after Rory hung up.

  “He knew about her changing her name to Angel Portrero. Said they already looked into her past life and didn’t find anything of interest.”

  “They might not know the connection between Kit and Willow. That they knew each other before.”

  “It might not be important. I’ll call him later and tell him. I think we should get more information first. I wonder why Willow chose Portrero as her new last name.”

  “I can’t call her Willow or Angel. Too confusing. I’m going to use Wangel from now on. Portrero could be her maiden name. From what you told me that Dawn said, the woman didn’t want to have anything to do with her kids or her husband. She probably changed it back as soon as she could.”

  “True. And she might never have changed it when she got married. I’ll have to ask Dawn the next time I see her. The police are probably too busy to follow up with this Angel angle. Maybe we can help.” Roy looked at the time on her cell phone. “It’s still early.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Liz said.

  They looked at each other and chorused, “Road trip!”

  Chapter 28

  On the two-hour drive to Santa Barbara, Rory brought Liz up to date on her encounter with Marcia that morning.

  “She certainly has an obsession with Luscious Lance,” Liz said. “I wonder if he knows she followed him to San Diego. Or how she even knew he was going there.”

  “She probably heard him talking to one of the other trainers at the gym. I doubt he noticed her. He would have given her name to the police to verify he was in San Diego all night if he had.”

  “That’s if he even knows her name.” Liz frowned. “We’re at a dead end. Lance and Teresa have alibis. Dawn was there that night. Maybe she’s lying and she really did do it.”