Life is Better Brunette

by Diane Bator

  The librarian frowned. "You mean who was." She glanced around then sat on the seat next to Gilda. "Miss Claudia volunteered to help run our fund-raising events for years until the psychic event they held as part of the town's birthday bash last month. Apparently, she had a reading. I'm not sure if she didn't like what was in her cards or whatever, but she left in a huff and refused to work with the library board again."

  "Wow." Gilda leaned closer. "Do you think she could have left over some kind of misunderstanding?"

  "All I know is there was a lot of bad blood between her and a few members of the board until she set out to revitalize Armadillo Street, and things got even worse."

  Gilda raised her eyebrows. "Are the two related?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised." The librarian glanced at the screen and shook her head. "With Miss Claudia gone on to the big fabric store in the sky, we'll never know." A ruckus in the far corner seemed to catch her attention. "Excuse me."

  As the librarian left to shush a group of teenagers horsing around in one corner, Gilda turned back to the computer and frowned. Most psychics did their readings one-on-one with no witnesses to whatever lies they told their unsuspecting clients.

  She blew out a breath then leaned closer to the monitor. Some psychics, however, did have one single witness always at their side. In Aislin's case, her witness was a recording device that sat to her right, near the bottom of the photo. If Miss Claudia had a reading last month, chances were, Aislin still had the recording.

  Gilda needed to make yet another visit to Fabio, if only to let him know what to look for.

  She stood, turned to push the chair in to the desk, and froze. Across the room in one of the greenish leather armchairs the library bought to appease the seniors sat the man in the beige trench coat. It seemed Columbo was now following her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  As Gilda left the library, the man in the trench coat stood and headed for the door at the same time as she did. With her heart racing, she emerged into the daylight and turned toward the police station. If this guy was now after her, sitting at a desk across from Fabio would be the safest place in town.

  She ran up the front steps of the police station, pausing to look back as she opened the door. Trench coat man walked toward her at a leisurely pace.

  Gilda took a quick breath, ducked into the police station, and hurried straight over to Fabio's desk. "He's following me."

  Fabio tossed his pen aside and sighed. "Who's following you?"

  "Columbo. I was at the library doing some research and saw him watching me. When I got up and left, he followed."

  He sent another officer outside to take a look. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  Gilda hesitated. "I need you to let me back into Miss Claudia's apartment to look for an audio recording."

  Fabio looked up at her beneath lowered eyebrows. "You want me to let you do what?"

  "I have to get back into her apartment to find an audio recording of a session she had with Aislin, the psychic, a month or so ago," Gilda said. "When the town held their birthday party on the beach this summer. The library did a psychic fair for a fund-raiser. I think Miss Claudia had a reading with Aislin Chadwick who turned out to be her long-lost daughter."

  His mouth dropped open as he sat all the way back in his chair and stared. "Did you make a stop at Happy Harvey's on the way over? What the hell have you been drinking?"

  The officer he'd sent outside returned and gave a shrug. "I didn't see anyone suspicious out there."

  "No one dressed like Columbo?" Gilda asked.

  "Who's Columbo?" He furrowed his brow.

  Fabio burst out laughing. "There you go. Anything else I can do for you, Sherlock?"

  "I was at the library and found a few things." Gilda hesitated. "From everything I found, it seems Miss Claudia and Aislin had a history. Remember that picture I showed you? The one you deleted. It doesn't seem like much of a stretch that Aislin could be her daughter, does it? I mean, Robert Sullivan's daughter."

  He rubbed a hand over his face. "Let's get this straight. You think this psychic came back to town to kill the man who kidnapped her twenty years ago? A man you think could be her father, who came back dressed like a woman."

  The entire police station suddenly seemed to lapse into silence around them.

  Gilda closed her eyes and bowed her head, glad the man in the trench coat hadn't made another appearance. "Can we go somewhere a little more private?"

  "Only if I can record this for a good laugh later." He met her gaze with a straight face.

  "Please?" she asked. "You know I could go talk to Gary instead. He'd help me find what I was looking for. He'd believe me."

  Fabio scowled. "Right now, honey, he's so messed up he'd believe in the Easter Bunny. You do know he's convinced he saw Miss Claudia in front of his car and swerved to avoid her."

  "Well, maybe he did." Gilda grabbed his pad of yellow paper and a pen. "You'll probably need these if you want to keep up."

  He groaned, then got out of his chair to join her in the nearest available interrogation room. "If you have proof about any of this, I'm all ears."

  She placed the photo of Aislin and Shawn on the table. "This was taken at that same library event two years ago."

  "Shawn O'Reilly and the psychic girl. Aislin, is it?" Fabio sat across the table from where she stood.

  Gilda hesitated until she could no longer stand the suspense. "Don't you notice anything odd about them?"

  He snorted. "Just that the stupid kid paid some girl to tell him he'll meet a tall, blonde, beautiful woman."

  "Aside from that. Don't you think they look alike? Maybe like brother and sister?"

  "Not really. His nose is much bigger than hers."

  She sighed. "Be serious."

  "I am serious." Fabio leaned both his elbows on the table and stared at the photo. "What I see is a girl with a deck of tarot cards who probably charged that kid a hundred bucks to tell him what he already knows. I also see a boy who…"

  When he didn't continue, Gilda flew around the table to examine the photo again. "A boy who what?"

  "Where did you say you found this picture?" he asked, without looking up.

  "I didn't say." She tried to be funny, but he didn't glance at her. "I found it online while I was at the library. Why?"

  "Do you have the website address? I'm going to need that."

  Gilda pulled out her notes. "It was posted on one of the local newspaper's websites. What do you see that I missed?"

  "I'm going to need to find the original. There's something off about this picture." He clutched the photo and stood.

  She stepped back. "I'm going with you."

  "No, you need to go check on Gary and ask him a few questions for me." Fabio met her gaze and paused as if he'd just realized it was Gilda in front of him, not Thayer. "I need you to ask him why he covered for Sullivan for so long and how he managed to convince Laurel to come back to Sandstone Cove."

  Her stomach dropped like she was standing in a plummeting elevator. "What are you talking about? Laurel Sullivan is here?"

  Fabio rolled his eyes. "You can stop playing dumb. I know you've already made the connection. You told me as much."

  She frowned as her stomach churned. "Wait a second. Do you mean to say I was right all along? Is Aislin really Laurel Sullivan?"

  "Yup, that's my guess. So now I'm going to get to the bottom of things, and you're going to help me." He waved the picture in front of her face. "Like it or not, Sherlock."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gilda marched straight over to the hospital, not even thinking about the man in the trench coat until she was only a few feet away from the sliding front doors. She paused to take a deep breath and glance at the people around her.

  Several feet from the hospital doorway, an elderly woman in a wheelchair puffed on a cigarette between breaths from her oxygen tank as a young nurse dozed next to her.

  Two men in suits stood in front of
Café Beanz, sipping their coffees and waving their hands as they talked.

  A woman with three small kids pushed a stroller past the hospital and across to the deli.

  No man in a beige trench coat.

  Gilda blew out her anxieties and headed into the cool hospital corridors toward Gary's room. Since he was asleep, she sat on the blue chair and rubbed her face with both hands. Seconds later, Gary's phone buzzed again. This time it rang so many times that it vibrated right off the wheeled table next to his bed and onto his hand.

  Gary jumped and snorted, grabbing his phone before it could fall off the bed. The phone buzzed about six more times while he held it. "Hey, Gilda. How's it going? You look a little frazzled."

  "I think it's time you start giving me some straight answers. The whole time you've been asleep, your phone's gone off about thirty times. That seems like a lot, considering I just got here."

  He frowned and scanned through his text messages. With every stroke of his finger, lines etched deeper into his face until he finally gave a long sigh. "I guess it's finally happened."

  "What's happened?"

  "I have to get out of this place." Gary threw back his blankets and swung his bruised legs over the side of the bed. "You need to get me out of here. Things are about to go from bad to worse, and you and I are in serious danger."

  Gilda stared. "What are you talking about? What kind of danger?"

  He stopped suddenly, when the tube connected to the intravenous needle in his arm went taut. Without so much as a grimace, he pulled the needle out of his hand and dropped it to the floor, ignoring the blood that oozed then beaded on the back of his hand. "Good riddance."

  She met his gaze and shook her head. "You can't do this. You have a bunch of broken bones, and the IV was full of pain meds."

  "I'll be fine." Gary waved a hand as his eyes rolled back before he leaned against the bed.

  "You're not fine." Gilda grabbed his arm. "You need to rest."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Go get me a wheelchair. If anyone asks, we're just going to get some coffee, or fresh air, or whatever they'll let me do."

  "They won't let you do anything. You're under police protection and should be on complete bed rest." She placed a hand on his arm. "Why don't you stay here, and I'll go do whatever it is you think you need to do?"

  "No, you can't deal with this." Gary placed both hands on her shoulders. "I need to take care of this alone."

  Gilda shook her head. "You're not going anywhere, let alone doing anything by yourself. If you're going somewhere, then so am I."

  He stared at her long and hard. "Okay. Then you'd better go get my clothes from the closet and find a wheelchair or something to get me to the front door."

  "Okay." She scurried toward the closet. "But I warn you, Fabio's going to lecture both of us until our ears fall off."

  "I can take it."

  She paused to smile. "Me, too."

  "Good, then get my clothes so we can get out of here."

  Gilda grimaced. "Are you sure you even have clothes here? Your accident was pretty bad. I wouldn't be surprised if the Doc had to cut them off you to treat you."

  "There's clothes here." Gary waved a hand. "One of my guys brought them earlier."

  "Wow. People pay big bucks for that kind of service." Gilda pulled out his khakis, suit jacket, and a shirt someone had washed and pressed.

  Gary grinned. "Don't worry. I pay."

  She helped him put his pants over his feet, pulled them to his knees, and left him to do the rest while she went to find his shoes. Once he was dressed, she found a wheelchair in the hallway and forced him to sit in it.

  He grumbled but sat.

  "Okay, you got your wish," she said. "Where are we going?"

  Gary grabbed his water glass to take along with him, then held up one hand and flicked his index finger forward. "Front door."

  "There's a police officer guarding your room. How do you plan to get past him?"

  He winked and tapped his phone. "I have my ways. He's been taken care of."

  She groaned. "I wish you wouldn't have done anything to him. Fabio's going to lock us both up, you know."

  "Eventually. I didn't do anything to him, except pay for his daughter's dance lessons for the next two years."

  Gilda rolled her eyes. "Of course. Why don't you just tell me where it is we need to go?"

  "The less you know for now, the better." Gary sipped his water as they wove through the hallway toward the street. "Just push me out the front door. I'll walk from there."

  Gilda didn't like his plan but agreed. Once they'd cleared the sliding doors, she pushed the chair toward a quiet spot and helped him to his feet. "I'll help. You can't even stand up straight, let alone walk very far by yourself."

  He huffed. "Fine, but we need to get moving. Things are starting to go down."

  "How do you know that?"

  Gary held up his phone. "I've got my ways."

  Together, they ambled along the street, with Gary leaning on her. She was glad the bruises on his face had started to settle to a sickly yellow.

  "You know this would all be easier if you'd tell me where we're going," Gilda said.

  "I know."

  When he didn't say anything more, she sighed. "So when are you going to tell me what's going on?"

  Gary's attempted laugh sounded more like a wheeze. "Like all good stories, it began with a jaded woman."

  "Aislin." Gilda grimaced.

  He shook his head. "Funny enough, no. Her mother."

  "Aislin's mother? Do you know her?" She stopped, and when her mouth ceased opening and closing like a startled guppy, her jaw went slack.

  "Yes." Gary grabbed her arm and pulled her along toward Armadillo Street. "You know, if I keep talking when you're not beside me, I look insane. It's bad enough I already look like I was in some kind of a wreck."

  "You were, and honestly, I really don't think many people around here would question you," she said. "Now, what's this about Aislin's mother?"

  "Not just her mom. Yours as well."

  "My mom?" Gilda gasped. "What on earth does my mom have to do with Aislin?"

  "Your mom also knew Sullivan before he became Miss Claudia."

  Gilda paused again, suddenly unable to breathe. "What?"

  Gary led her to a bench and sat for a moment, around the corner from the hospital. He didn't say anything more until she was seated next to him. "Robert Sullivan used to come to Sandstone Cove now and then with his wife and kids to visit family. After he did a tour of duty overseas, he only came back once before he transformed himself and opened the fabric shop as Miss Claudia."

  "When he kidnapped his daughter."

  "Exactly," he said.

  "Did you know Miss Claudia was really Sullivan?"

  He shook his head. "Not at the time. No one had any reason to suspect Miss Claudia was anything other than what she said, a widow from Nebraska who'd come here for a change of scenery. She'd supposedly retired from working for the government and had always wanted to run a little shop."

  "The fabric shop." Gilda tried to remember what else she'd read about Robert Sullivan. "Why would he kidnap his own daughter?"

  Gary closed his eyes. "I've heard that story too. That's the part that has to do with your mother. From what I've heard, she helped hide Sullivan and both of his kids."

  "She helped hide them both? But why?" Her heart raced. "I thought he took his daughter across the country, away from her mother. Why would my mom help him rather than turn him in?"

  "Yes, he did. Away from his power-hungry wife, who kept leaving the two kids with their grandfather, who molested the little girl every chance he had."

  Gilda stared, not sure she'd heard him right. "Their grandfather? Are you talking about Malcolm Vines? Was he molesting Sullivan's daughter?"

  "That's how the unofficial story goes." Gary nodded. "But before everything could come out at trial, Sullivan drove his truck over the cliff. Shortly after his first death, someone s
muggled both kids out of California, and they disappeared for good."

  Her stomach seemed to plunge like she was on a wild roller coaster ride. "Who took them?"

  Gary shrugged. "That's where things get murky. All I know is they'd be about your age. Give or take. Twenty-eight."

  "I don't remember seeing a man and his kids at our house when I was younger." Gilda shook her head. "Not anyone who looked like Sullivan, anyway."

  "Unless that's when he first started using the Miss Claudia persona." He stood then looked away, absorbed in thought.

  "Oh my." She blew out a breath. "I wish I could remember."

  "You may have never even met them. If she'd met them in person, your mom probably met them somewhere else."

  Gilda took his arm again and walked him across the street to Armadillo Street. They seemed to be heading toward the fabric shop. "So, where are we going?"

  "To settle a few things."

  She glanced at Gary. Her stomach was already in knots, and he grew paler by the minute. "Are you sure you want to do this? I really don't think you're strong enough to deal with all this so soon after the accident."

  "I'll be fine." He frowned. "When this is over, you can take me back to the hospital and Doc can pump me full of painkillers so I can finally get a few weeks’ worth of rest."

  Across Armadillo Street from them, Mick's bright yellow Ferrari screeched to a halt. Mick lunged out of the driver's side, while Kane raced around from the passenger's side. Neither man looked amused.

  "You two need to stop right there." Mick pointed as he ran across the street toward them. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but Gary needs to get back to the hospital right now."

  Kane stood in front of them. "Gilda, this isn't a game. Someone is going to get seriously hurt if you don't back off and let the police take care of things."

  "She's tried to let the police take care of things, and all they've done is laugh at both of us." As Gary reached around Gilda's waist and pulled her against him, he shoved something hard against her ribs. "I forced her to bring me here, and there's nothing you can do to help her now."

  Mick and Kane backed away abruptly. The speed at which they moved told Gilda the object Gary held pointed at her ribcage was a gun one of his employees, probably Adam, must have smuggled in to him.