Chapter 22
The lawyer Mayor Farnham recommended, Homer Armstrong, agreed to meet with us the next morning for breakfast before Mitch was to go in for questioning.
“Sounds like circumstantial evidence at this point,” he said as crumbs from his sausage biscuit left a trail down his snugly fitting white button-down shirt. “They don’t have a lot to go on, so my advice is to not give them anything more.”
Mitch hadn’t wanted to order anything to eat. His shoulders sagged, and he was the most solemn I’d ever seen him. The prospect of being arrested for Amelia’s death wasn’t just scaring my brother; he was terrified. He tapped his foot under the table. “I think I could’ve loved Amelia with more time. I didn’t kill her.”
“Doesn’t matter what you did. The point is, a button is no smoking gun. So maybe she ripped the button off in a moment of passion and was keeping it for a souvenir? That doesn’t make you a murderer. That makes you somebody special enough to rate a romantic memento. Good work. I don’t think my wife would have kept an old button.”
Later, as I sat outside the interrogation room at the Lake Henry Police Department and Mitch sat inside being questioned, I couldn’t help feeling this was all for nothing. Homer was right. What would they do with one torn button? Mitch would be out of there in no time, and I wouldn’t even have to tell our mother about it. I could just imagine how she’d react after finding out Mitch had landed himself into trouble once again. He was trying his hand at odd jobs and was seeking to break out of bad habits. Still, his efforts were not up to my mother’s standards.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Homer walked out with his hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to make this work.”
“What happened?” Mitch’s downcast expression was not the face I had hoped to see. He appeared to be even more troubled than when he followed Homer and Sheriff Bennett in to be questioned. I put my hand on his shoulder, but Mitch avoided my eyes.
Homer made a clucking sound with his mouth and stuck his fingers under his belt. “Well, things didn’t go exactly as we planned. It seems Mitch here had a complaint against him for a bar fight. A little detail the two of you forgot to tell me.”
“Mitch mentioned something to me, but I didn’t think it was important.” I didn’t know the details of the bar fight, but whatever happened, I was sure it was just Mitch being stupid.
“Did your brother bother to tell you the fight was with a woman?”
“No.” Why hadn’t I thought to ask him about this? I turned to Mitch. “What happened in the bar fight, Mitch?”
“She started it.” Had he hit a woman in a bar fight? I couldn’t believe my brother would do something like that.
“I didn’t hit anybody. She filed a complaint against me. She had some bruises on her face, and she said I put them there. I swear to you here and now that I never touched her. She was mad at me after I promised to call, and I guess I kind of forgot.”
Mitch’s newly illuminated history of violence wasn’t looking good for him. I squeezed his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”
“I was trying to forget it.”
Homer stepped in between us. “Well, the police didn’t forget it. Now he’s looking like some sort of abuser to them. On Amelia’s murder, they still don’t have enough evidence, but they’re hot on his trail. Sheriff Bennett warned us he would be calling Mitch back in for questioning.”
“I certainly hope you’re telling him not to answer any questions.”
“Of course. We’re keeping control of the situation. At least we were until today’s past complaint came up in his history.”
I fell back into my chair feeling my shoulders sag as a sudden tiredness came over me. “I guess we’ll have to call Mom.”
“I suppose so,” Mitch acknowledged in a monotone voice.
We didn’t speak the entire way home, and once we set foot in the house, Mitch trudged upstairs to his room. It felt like this situation was beginning to spiral out of control. Nothing was stopping the wheels of justice even if they were rolling all over the wrong suspect. I decided to try again to tap into whatever was showing up in my sketchbook. This time, I would try to see the killer’s face. I had to do better than I did in the restaurant parking lot. Like a person who was just learning to meditate, I could become easily distracted by the smallest sound or stray thought running through my head. If I could just somehow get rid of the distractions then maybe I could center in on the real killer and get Mitch out of trouble.
With Luigi snuggled up beside me on the couch, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I was slipping into the woods again. I was back at that night, and my hand started moving on the sketchpad, although I had no idea what I was drawing. In. Out. In. Out. It was dark, and someone was moving about the woods. I could hear a dragging sound. I could smell something. Something I liked.
The doorbell rang. Luigi sprang to vicious-guard-dog mode, and I was yanked out of that world and into this one.
Darla stood on my front porch with her arms crossed and her head cocked to the side as if she had been standing on the porch for an hour.
“Darla, what a surprise. What brings you here?”
“You do,” she snipped. “May I come in, or shall we have this out here on your front porch for anyone driving around the lake to see.”
Luigi let out an ear-splitting bark, making Darla jump. I grabbed him by the collar, and escorted him to the bathroom, and closed the door.
“Sorry about that,” I said over the dog’s wails from inside the restroom. “Come on in.”
She brushed past me.
“So, what seems to be the matter?” I tried to sound light, but Darla didn’t look like she was stopping by for coffee cake and gossip.
“You told the sheriff I’m a suspect in Amelia’s murder. Really?”
“Won’t you sit down?” I gestured toward the couch. Of course, I told the sheriff to look into her. If anybody around here had a motive, it was Darla Hobbs.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” she said, ignoring my request to sit, “but I’m quite aware of my boyfriend’s flirtations with other women. I take great comfort in knowing I’m the only one in his life, and eventually we plan to make it permanent.” Her final statement sounded more like she was placating herself on the commitment issue than an actual announcement.
“That’s wonderful.” I gave her a fake smile. She was terrified of losing him.
“You have been a divisive force since you arrived. You need to go back to the city so you can scurry around with all the other little rats.”
“You’re a trip, Darla. Tim warned me you could be a little emotional.”
Her eyes widened at my statement. “Excuse me? When did you and my boyfriend talk privately about me? I was unaware he was sharing confidences with you. Tim and I have something special, and the love the two of us share is something I’m sure you have never experienced.”
“Listen to me, Darla. I’ve heard you can get pretty desperate when Tim tries to break it off with you. I don’t know what you have going on with Tim that you feel you have to threaten him into staying, but I do know your anger and hostility toward every other female in existence is a motive for murder.”
Darla’s eyes widened, the black eyeliner stretching to its limits. “You’re ridiculous. You’re making a fool of yourself, you know.”
“Probably so. Wouldn’t be the first time someone has said that to me. By the way, how did you do with cute little Amelia working in your house? I’m sure you and Tim loved having her around … especially Tim with his wandering eye never missing those cut-off jeans on her long beautiful legs. Now you have Katy and little Timmy around. It seems to me you’re fighting a losing battle. Boys will be boys.”
“Shut up.”
“I will not. You are in my house, and I can say whatever I want. You might have everybody else walking on eggshells, but I’m not buying it
.”
“That’s it. I don’t have to take this from you. You’ll be sorry you ever messed with me.”
I yelled at her as she walked away. “You know I drew Amelia’s murder before it ever happened. I can see things other people can’t, and you’re terrified I might pick up on something. Something that involves you in the murder.”
Darla rushed out the door, slamming it behind her.
My phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from Gigi inviting me to a “very special candle party.” As if I didn’t have enough to deal with. I texted back a quick message.
Darla Hobbs just here telling me off. Busy right now.
I let Luigi out of the bathroom and picked up my sketchbook. After talking to Darla, I wanted to take another look at what had come from my vision before she arrived. Could it be her? Sketched roughly on the page was the killer dressed in a dark hoody and dragging Amelia to the shore. From the build of the murderer, I could tell something new. The killer was a woman.
As I put down the sketch, I glanced out the window where Darla had driven away. Wilma pulled up in Darla’s space in a beat-up old station wagon to deliver the mail. I walked to the box to greet her.
“You’re back at work already?” I asked her as she handed me a stack of circulars.
“Rain, sleet, snow, and death in the family. Nothing stops the mail around here.”
“Seriously, they couldn’t give you the week off?” I asked.
“Two things. They don’t have anybody to replace me and … it feels right to work. It gets my mind off of the way Amelia died.” She stopped for a moment, taking in a breath. She might not have been psychic, but I could see she was reliving everything in her brain. It had to be devastating to have lost two people in such a short time.
I sighed as I thought about Mitch’s involvement in the case. “I suppose you know they’re questioning Mitch about Amelia’s death. I know you’ve lost a lot, but you have to know my little brother loved Amelia.”
Hoping to get some reassurance from Wilma, I waited for her response. Instead, she changed the subject. “Was that Darla I saw speeding down the road?” Wilma took a swig from a water bottle.
“Yes,” I admitted. “She’s not too happy with me right now.”
“What’s up her snooty little derriere?”
I debated telling her the next part. Would she have the same reaction as everyone else? “To get some of the heat off Mitch, I suggested she might have a motive to kill Amelia. I have this ability to hyper-focus on things. I see events I have nothing to do with. Precognition. It’s not easy to control, but I’m working on it. I was just trying to come up with something on Amelia’s death. One thing I know now was the killer was a woman.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m an artist. I’m all about detail. I remember just about everything from the night I found Amelia and then she disappeared. Whoever was in the woods with me was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. Then, of course, Ryan Bradford showed up from nowhere. When the police arrived and we went to find the body, she was gone.”
Wilma coughed on her water and placed the cap back on the bottle. Wilma turned off the mail jeep. “Nobody told me this.”
“I couldn’t get anyone to believe me.”
“Why not?”
“Your sister-in-law’s body disappeared. They thought I was crazy.” Wilma’s eyes met mine with a look of curiosity that was then replaced by confusion.
“God. You’d at least think they would’ve checked the next day. Poor Amelia was out there. Floating around. First Billy and then her. You know, we didn’t always get along. No one wants to hear they have an abusive brother, and it took me a while to realize she was telling the truth. So much sadness.”
This was new information to me about Billy. It was really amazing Amelia and Mitch hit it off so quickly, after all she’d been through. “I saw her hand sticking up on the shore. I was walking in the woods about to have a cigarette, and that’s when I found her. Just like what I had seen. I think the killer might have been a woman.”
“Did you see the hoodie girl’s face at all?”
“It was dark.”
“To think they could have pulled her out of the lake when it happened. I can’t believe they blew you off like that.”
“They thought I was some wacko when they went looking for a woman in the water and didn’t find anything. I think my credibility is pretty well shot with the police and the Bradfords. Darla seemed jealous of Amelia, and I was the idiot who brought that up to everybody.”
“Darla. She’s a piece of work right there. I heard all about her tricky tricks to keep Tim.”
“How desperate do you think she could get?”
“Don’t know. Don’t want to know.” A wistful expression crossed Wilma’s face. “I would have believed you the night you found Amelia. You’ve just got a way about you. You know?”
“Thanks. I think.” At least her reaction was more positive than Ryan Bradford’s.
“Got to be on my way. Can’t be late with Mr. Wilson’s negligee catalogs.” She restarted her motor, gave me a wicked wink, and pulled her station wagon down the road. It was helpful to have found a friend like Wilma, even if she was a little rough around the edges.
At least I wasn’t off base with my ideas about Darla. I threw the mail on the coffee table to find Luigi surrounded by a pile of cheese puffs spread across the floor. His brown lips were covered with the artificially orange-colored treat.
“Luigi! Bad dog.”
Luigi ran to the back door and began whining. Consuming that much junk food couldn’t be healthy for the dog’s stomach.
“Do you want to go out, fella? Come on.”
Luigi crept out the back door, his tail between his legs. Once he was outside, his head riveted around, he barked, and then he took off down the street.
The phone rang as I closed the deck door. I rushed to get it.
“It’s Darla. Can you meet me at Bernie’s? I think we should straighten a few things out.”
Darla’s voice sounded different. Had she been crying? Had she finally realized just how hard it is to love someone who can’t stop flirting? “What do we have to straighten out?”
“Just meet me at Bernie’s.”
I heaved a sigh. “Fine.”
Chapter 23
I backed down the driveway not looking forward to yet another confrontation with Darla. My phone beeped a text message from Gigi. I’d check it later. There was no getting around it. I was doomed to attend a candle party. This had to be her third text today. What was I thinking, letting a person who lived off of sales have access to me? As the gravel cleared my wheels, I started around the curve to make the drive to Bernie’s. I headed for the big bridge as my anxieties started getting to me. Would Darla be successful in getting me removed from Clarence’s book? If I could just tell her off, my anxiety level would go way down. I began talking to the invisible Darla in the car.
“I’m not going to put up with this. You have more of a motive than my brother. Heck, you shouldn’t be surprised someone told the police about you and your jealous temper tantrums.”
I was at the high point of the bridge now in a full-blown discussion with my invisible passenger. My argument was smart, well crafted, and even a little witty. My car picked up speed going down the bridge, so I tapped the brakes to slow it down. I was coming dangerously close to the next car.
I hit the brakes, but my car didn’t seem to be slowing down. If anything, it was going faster. I tried pounding my foot on the brakes as if pumping them would make any difference. For someone who claimed to be psychic, I sure didn’t see this coming. I laid on the horn, and the car in front of me swerved out of my way. Luckily there was nothing in front of me now but a steel girder.
At this speed, the collision would kill me. I steered around the girder, nearly tipping the car. When the wheels hit the ground again, my head hit the roof. The car sped toward a grove of trees bordering the water. The towering pines re
minded me of the trees near Clarence’s house, where I had discovered a dead woman. Would I be the next dead woman in the water? Is this what Gigi had seen in her dreams? I resigned myself to hitting the trees when an old man on a bicycle came out of nowhere. I made a hard left to avoid him and felt the wheels of my car bumping over the curve and down the hill into the water. I reached for the door handle. I had to have the door open when I hit the water. I pulled the handle and pushed open the door only to have it knocked back by the trees.
The trees were gone and I was in midair. A second later the car jolted against the surface of the water. It was all happening so fast. The car started filling with water, but I pushed open the door and squeezed my shoulder out. The force of the car began pulling me down, and I struggled to free myself. I struggled to get free, but my foot was stuck in my seatbelt. My lungs screamed for air. I pulled at the belt, but I couldn’t slip my foot free. My chest began to ache as my body ran out of oxygen. The water around me was spinning.
I hit the top of the water, taking in great gulps of air. My arms were flailing, but somehow I was able to stay buoyant. It took me a minute to realize I wasn’t alone. Someone was holding me up.
“You’re okay. Breathe, Gabby.” I recognized the voice instantly. His arms were wrapped securely around me, keeping my head above the water. Ryan Bradford had just saved my life.
“What the hell were you doing?” Ryan asked as he pushed a strand of hair off of my forehead as we sat on the road next to the crash site.
I grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I was supposed to meet Darla at Bernie’s. She wanted to talk to me about something.”
“That was the craziest driving I’ve ever seen. You’re lucky I was at O’Henry’s. I heard the old man scream when you almost killed him and then saw your car land in the water. Good Lord, woman, you’re a handful. Have you had anything to drink? Were you drunk? Was that it?” He drew closer as if he could see if I was inebriated by looking in my eyes.
Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1) Page 12