A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

  “You did what?” Detective Green’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

  Rory shrank down in the chair as she questioned the wisdom of telling him about the previous day’s road trip. “Sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking,” she said in a small voice.

  “Why do you insist on putting yourself in danger? For someone so intelligent…” He paced from one side of the interview room to the other. “You see these gray hairs?” He pointed at his hair, which she noticed for the first time did have a few strands of gray in it. “I didn’t have them when I first met you.”

  She shrank down in her seat a little more. “Sorry?”

  He placed his hands on the arm of her chair and leaned down. His eyes met hers and he said in measured tones, “You’re not a cat. You don’t have nine lives. Stop acting like you do.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He straightened up and gestured toward the door. “Go. You’re giving me a headache. Try to stay out of trouble for more than five minutes, please.”

  She scampered out of the room as fast as she could.

  “What did he say?” Liz stood up from the chair in the police department lobby where she had been waiting.

  Rory grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her toward the exit. “I’ll tell you outside.”

  Only after they were two blocks away from the police station did Rory speak. “He wasn’t happy.”

  “He’ll get over it. Is he going to look into those people who died?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then that’s all we can do.”

  Later that day, Rory walked around the corner of her house into her backyard. She was heading toward her back door when she spotted Mrs. Griswold standing on the grass, peering at one of the windows of Rory’s single story house. The older woman checked something off on a clipboard she held in her hand.

  “Mrs. Griswold, can I help you with something?” Rory said.

  “There you are. I’m glad to see you’ve been taking precautions. So far you’re the only one on the block who has all of your windows shut and locked.”

  “You’re checking everyone’s windows? Why?”

  “Those burglars are still out there. I want to make sure we’re not inviting targets for them.” She pointed to the light over Rory’s back porch. “Does your light work?”

  “I’ll make sure I turn all my outside lights on tonight.”

  Mrs. Griswold nodded her head in satisfaction. “Good. Too easy to hide in somebody’s backyard around here when it’s dark. I keep on petitioning City Hall for streetlights, but no luck so far. Did I tell you? I caught a Peeping Tom hanging around recently. Caught him in Willow’s backyard, peeking into her kitchen window. Had a dog with him too. Found poop all over my yard. People really need to clean up after their animals. It’s an epidemic these days.”

  Rory pulled up the photo of Kit and Buddy on her phone and showed it to her neighbor. “Is this him?”

  “Yep, that’s him, all right, and the dog too. You know him?”

  “I did. He passed away recently.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but it’s one less problem for me to worry about.”

  “Did you call the police when you saw him?”

  “Of course. I take my job as Neighborhood Watch block captain seriously. An officer came out and talked to him. Didn’t arrest him though. Let him off with a warning. That was a couple weeks ago. Mrs. Quakenbush told me he was back though, the night Willow died. In Willow’s backyard again. Ran off when he saw Mrs. Quakenbush.”

  “She told me that too. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “You didn’t ask. I told the police when it happened, that’s the important thing.” She glanced down at her clipboard. “Better get going. I’ve got to finish checking the rest of the houses on the block. I’ll make another round after dark to make sure everyone’s got their outdoor lights on.” Mrs. Griswold stared pointedly at the porch light over Rory’s back door.

  As she watched her neighbor walk through the side gate onto Seagull Lane, Rory wondered why Kit had been in Willow’s backyard twice and if it had anything to do with her murder.

  Chapter 30

  Rory entered the sanctuary Friday morning minutes before Kit’s funeral was scheduled to begin. A dozen people sat in the pews near the front of the church facing a closed casket flanked by two funeral wreaths of white roses and carnations accented with eucalyptus.

  As she walked down the aisle, Ben, the homeless man she had met in the library, tipped an imaginary hat to her. She smiled in return and slipped into a pew next to Liz and her parents.

  “I’d almost given up on you,” Liz said in a quiet voice.

  “Sekhmet kept me up half the night. As soon as I fell asleep, she would meow in my ear and nudge me awake again. I think she’s finally realized Willow’s not coming back.”

  “She’ll calm down soon.”

  “I know, but it makes me sad to see her wandering around the house looking so lost.”

  Rory’s gaze swept the sanctuary, taking in the librarian who had befriended Kit as well as several of the church volunteers who handed out lunches on Fridays. As far as she could tell, no member of the police department numbered among the mourners.

  “Looking for Dashing D?” Liz asked. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve known you a long time. One of my friends at the station told me he had to go to a parole hearing today.”

  Moments later, Reverend Paulson stepped to the front to start the service while Tripp slid into a pew in the first row. When the minister called on Rory to speak, her legs wobbled as she walked down the aisle. Her voice choking up occasionally, she shared memories of the time she had spent with Kit and how devoted he had been to his dog. Tripp gave her a reassuring touch on the arm as she returned to her seat and he stepped to the front. Several more people spoke, including two people Kit had done odd jobs for, who praised his work ethic.

  After the final hymn was sung and the service was over, everyone helped set up tables and chairs in the parking lot while one of the Friday volunteers put out the food provided by a local deli. The homeless who showed up for their sack lunches today had the option of joining the mourners for a sit-down lunch in honor of Kit.

  Rory was talking with the librarian when she heard a “Psst!” followed by a louder “Rory!” coming from behind her. She turned to see a wildly waving Veronica standing next to the food table. Beside her was a nervous-looking man with a ponytail. Rory excused herself and headed toward the pair.

  As soon as Rory was close enough, Veronica grabbed her arm and dragged her off to one side, out of earshot of the rest of the group.

  “What’s going on?” Rory said.

  “This is—” Veronica looked over at the nervous man who was saying “No names, no names” over and over again in a low voice. “Doesn’t matter what his name is. He’s part of my army. You know, the one I told you about the other day.”

  “Your informants.”

  “That’s right.” With a flick of her hand, the reporter urged the man with the ponytail forward. “Go on, tell her what you saw.”

  His lips quivered and he looked uncertainly at Veronica, who nodded her head in encouragement.

  “I was at,” he said, followed by several unintelligible words.

  Rory leaned forward, but couldn’t make out anything else he said. “I’m sorry. Could you speak up?”

  “…really odd.” Ponytail’s voice grew stronger as he gained confidence. “I mean, usually it’s pretty quiet in that area. Even though the beach is real close, there aren’t many people walking along that part of the street.” A faraway look came into his eyes as if he were remembering something, then he continued with his tale.

  Rory listened carefully, but couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell her.

  Veronica nudged him. “Cut to the chase. We don�
�t have all day.”

  “Sorry.” He blushed. “Okay, where was I?” He looked down at his shoes as if gathering his thoughts. “I was walking downtown, minding my own business when I saw something odd. Really odd. You know the street, don’t remember its name, the one at the top of the hill going up from the pier?”

  He waited until Rory nodded before continuing. “This woman walked by wearing like, this flowy dress thing in really bright colors. It went down to her ankles.”

  “Brown hair? Really thin?”

  “That’s right.”

  Willow, she said to herself.

  “She was coming out of this alley. Odd place for a lady like her to be. I mean, it’s dark in that alley. It runs between these buildings, only trashcans and the like in there. Not many people walk down it. The street’s not that far away and all.” He glanced at Veronica. “Right. Get to the point. Anyway, she looked angry, like real angry. I stayed away from her, kept my eyes on the ground and walked straight ahead. Didn’t want to set her off. After she passed by, I looked back and saw this guy I know, Kit. Oh, this was his funeral, wasn’t it? Anyway, he was coming out of the alley with his bike and his dog. Sort of staggered a bit, then headed down to the beach.”

  “When was this?” Rory asked.

  “Last Friday. Two weeks ago around this time.”

  Her ears perked up. The day she found Kit on the beach.

  “Was I helpful?” Ponytail said.

  “Very.” Rory pulled a bill out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Thanks. Make sure you get some food before you leave.”

  As she headed back to the tables, she thought about what he’d told her. First, she had learned from her neighbor that Kit had been at Willow’s house the night she died, then from another neighbor that he had also been hanging around her place weeks before that. Now, this man had told her about seeing Willow and Kit in the area where he’d been attacked. From the sound of it, Willow must have been the one who had hit Kit.

  When everyone had eaten and the leftover food, tables and chairs had been put away, she looked around for Tripp. Not finding him in the sanctuary or outside, she headed down the familiar corridors of the building next to the church toward his room.

  When she reached her destination, she found him rummaging through dresser drawers. “Where is it?” he said to himself loud enough so Rory could hear. When she knocked on the door, Tripp looked over and smiled. “Did you need something?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. And give you this.” She held out a padlock key and a piece of paper with the location and entrance code for the locker on it. “It’s the key to the storage locker Kit rented. The details are on the paper. It’s mostly boxes. I think there are some things that belonged to your sister in there. We saw her wedding album.”

  “You looked through it?”

  “It was before we knew his full name. We thought we might find something to help identify him.”

  He placed the paper and key on the nearby dresser. “Thanks.”

  “I almost forgot. I have a box of papers in my house too. I’ll bring them over later.” Rory stood awkwardly, unsure what to do next. “When’s Kit going to be buried?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “Do you need me to go with you?”

  “No, thanks. I think I would rather do it by myself. I’ll call you, okay?”

  “Sure, I understand.” She thought about asking if he knew anything about Kit’s relationship with Willow but decided the time wasn’t right. She gave him a reassuring hug and headed home.

  Chapter 31

  “Where are you taking me so early?” Rory slumped down in the passenger seat of Liz’s car and closed her eyes. “It’s my birthday, and it’s Saturday. I should be able to sleep in. At least you could have brought me a diet Coke.”

  “Believe me, it’ll be worth it. I’ll get you a soda afterward.”

  Less than five minutes later, the car stopped. “We’re here.”

  Rory opened her eyes to find they were in an almost deserted parking lot next to the beach. The only other vehicles in the lot were two firetrucks parked near the exit. “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Liz led the way onto the sand and swept her arms in front of her. “Happy Birthday!”

  “Oh my.” Rory sucked in her breath and stared open-mouthed at the scene before her. Eight muscular men dressed in black shorts and black t-shirts with the Vista Beach fire-department logo on them ran in pairs back and forth across the sand. “What is this?”

  “What does it look like? A bunch of fire-department hotties training, of course.” Liz spread two beach towels on the sand and curled up on one of them. “Running on sand is very challenging. Gets you in shape really fast.”

  Rory sank down onto the other towel.

  “Almost forgot.” Liz jumped up and went to her car, returning with a twenty-ounce bottle of diet Coke and a bear claw with a candle in it. “Breakfast and a beverage for the birthday girl. Sorry I don’t have any matches. Pretend the candle’s lit and blow it out.”

  “Thanks.” Rory grinned and took the cold bottle of soda and pastry. She closed her eyes and blew out the imaginary flame on the candle.

  “What did you wish for?”

  “To find out who killed Willow so we can get Dawn out of jail. I’m not sure where to go from here. We know Willow hit Kit, but I have no idea why or if it has anything to do with her death. I feel like we’re at a dead end.”

  “No, no, no. No sleuthing on your birthday. I know it’s important to you, but you should take the day off.”

  “You’re right. It can wait until tomorrow.” Rory ate her breakfast and returned her attention to the training session going on in front of her. “How did you know about this?”

  “I know people.”

  “Don’t they mind us watching?”

  “It’s a public beach.”

  When one of the men spotted the two spectators, he nudged his running partner. They broke off from the pack and headed across the sand.

  “Hi, Liz,” one of them said when he stopped in front of them.

  At her nod, both firefighters dug roses out of their pockets and presented them to Rory.

  “Happy Birthday,” the first one said.

  “Sorry they’re plastic, but it’s the only thing that would hold up,” the second one added.

  She blushed and took the flowers. After she thanked the men, they jogged back to their group. “How did you manage that?”

  A smug smile on her face, Liz said, “I told you, I know people.”

  “You are the best friend.” Rory gave her a quick hug.

  Moments later, at a word from their leader, the group ran toward their firetrucks. Soon they were gone and the two women were alone on the beach.

  “No one’s ever going to top this as a birthday present.” Rory folded her towel and followed Liz back to the car. “Where are you taking me now?”

  “Someplace fun. You’ll see.”

  Rory spent the rest of the morning with Liz, then headed downtown for lunch with her parents. She was making her way along Main Street, when she sensed someone following her. She looked around half expecting to spot Marcia lurking nearby, but didn’t see her or anyone else acting suspiciously. She shook off the feeling and continued down the sidewalk.

  She rounded the corner and joined the crowd walking down the steep hill toward the ocean. Two teens carrying surfboards weaved their way uphill, forcing those going in the opposite direction against the buildings.

  Rory moved to the right and stopped at the steep staircase going down to the restaurant below. She was about to start down when she felt pressure in the small of her back. The next thing she knew she was falling forward. As she tumbled down the stairs, she grabbed for the railing, but it was too far away. Her eyes widened when
her head came within inches of striking one of the concrete steps. She flung her arms in front of her face to protect herself, landing at the bottom on her left shoulder. Groaning in pain, she looked up to the street level. All she saw were pedestrians passing by.

  Her parents and restaurant staff crowded around her and helped her up. As soon as she told them what happened, the manager called the police. After the uniformed officer took her statement, Rory’s parents helped her up the stairs. She was easing her bruised body into the passenger seat of her parents’ car when Detective Green arrived. He put his arm on the top of the car and leaned down to study her face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  After Rory told him everything she knew, he looked at her parents. “Did you two see anything?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?” He nodded toward a teen carrying a surfboard up the hill. “It’s crowded. Someone could have accidentally hit you with a board. Did you see anyone carrying one when it happened?”

  “I suppose it could have been something like that, but it felt more like a deliberate push.” Rory winced as she shifted in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.

  “Go ahead. Get yourself checked out. I’ll talk to the officer who took your statement and see what he found out.”

  After a doctor examined her and bandaged her shoulder, Rory headed home to rest.

  When Liz came to pick her up for dinner that evening, she found her still in a t-shirt and jeans.

  “Why aren’t you dressed? What happened to you?” Liz gestured toward the sling around Rory’s left arm.

  “Sprained shoulder.” She led the way into the living room and sat down on the couch beside Sekhmet, explaining how she’d been about to go down the stairs to the restaurant where she was meeting her parents when she felt pressure in the small of her back. “Someone pushed me, I know it.”

  “You were lucky it wasn’t worse. What did the police say?”

  “No one saw anything. The sidewalk was crowded. The police think it was an accident. Wrong place, wrong time.”