As I passed through the downstairs floor on my way to my borrowed pickup, Clarence, dressed in blue-striped pajamas, glanced up from his paper and cornflakes. “I knew it. I was looking at the truck this morning trying to remember if you had returned it to me.”
“Nope, not yet.” This moment could not be any more awkward. Here I was, his new illustrator, coming out of his son’s bedroom.
“Uh, huh. So am I to assume you and Ryan have found something you agree on?”
I blushed. “Have to go. The police arrested Mitch last night. My mother had to bail him out. She’s waiting for me at home.”
“That’s terrible. Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Yeah, find Amelia’s killer.” I passed through the screen door into the early morning light.
“Pack your things. I’m taking you home,” my mother said to Mitch, who sat slump-shouldered on the couch.
“No,” Mitch answered. I was amazed at the strength in his voice. Usually, this was where he packed up and said, “Yes, Mother.”
Not today.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean, I can’t leave. You paid my bail. You should know that, or weren’t you listening?”
My mother flinched. “Yes, I was listening, but surely you can come back home and live under my supervision. I can call the sheriff right now.”
“No,” Mitch repeated.
“Mom, it is what it is. This is not Mitch being thrown out of school for smoking in the bathroom. This is a murder charge. The last thing he wants to do is provide them another opportunity to arrest him for breaking the conditions of his bail.”
My mother stiffened. “Fine.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get back. We’re doing an audit at the hospital, and things are crazy. You stay here. Gabby will try to watch you and keep you out of jail, although I don’t put much trust in it. As soon as this whole affair is over and you’re found innocent, I’m cutting off the rent for this place and moving you back home.”
I loved the way my mother never even considered the fact I was living in the house too. It was all about Mitch. It had always been all about Mitch. I was just collateral offspring.
“Don’t worry about the rent, Mother. I have another job and am hoping that, between Mitch and me, we’ll make the rent ourselves next month.”
My mother’s eyes widened, reminding me of the Wicked Witch right after she was doused with water. She hated the cold, hard truth her children were often dependent on her, but she hated even worse losing a chance to control them. “You can’t be serious.”
“I picked up a second job as a teacher. Between that and my salary from Clarence, I think I’ll be okay. Having Mitch throw some money into the pot makes it even easier for us to stay here and not move back home.”
My mother stood and brushed off her day coat. “Well, then. I wish you luck.” She reached over and touched Mitch’s hand. “Oh, and when you need to pay that criminal attorney of yours, just ask Gabby here. Apparently, she’s rolling in it.”
Chapter 30
As my mother’s car raced down the road, I slipped in next to Mitch and put my arm around his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry. I’m such a screwup. She’s right.”
“She is not. She’s never been right, and now I see that. We’re going to figure this out, Mitch. We have to.”
“I know,” he whispered as the sobs coursed through him. Through Amelia’s death and all that followed, I hadn’t seen him cry. Now it was all coming out.
“Who would do this to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ryan and I went through the date book last night, and I can tell you someone was watching her.”
Mitch pulled away. “Wait a minute. You’re working with Ryan? As in that’s where you were last night?” A smile broke through his tears. “Oh, my. I thought I worked fast.”
I hit my brother on the shoulder. “Stop.”
“Little Gabby has a boyfriend,” he taunted through tears. We both laughed.
When Mitch and I arrived at Clarence’s house an hour later, Ryan was sitting on the front porch. I wasn’t at all sure what to do. Should I run up and give him a kiss he would never forget or maybe just stand back and see what he would do? I opted for the latter. Less chance of rejection.
“Hey,” I said. Ryan had expected me to come alone, and he didn’t miss the leering grin my brother gave him.
“Go ahead, kiss her. I know where she was last night.”
Ryan reached over and awkwardly kissed me on the cheek.
“Seriously, dude?” Mitch rolled his eyes. It was true. The lack of passion at the moment could have been fodder for a Puritan play, but because my brother was standing there it felt appropriate to me. We could save the PDA for another time.
There was a warmth in Ryan’s eyes I hadn’t seen before. I think he was finally glad to see me. Still, though, he made no outward sign of acknowledging what had happened between us the night before.
“I woke up and you were gone.”
“Uh, yes. I had an early morning appointment.”
“Would this have anything to do with your Journey to the Edge?”
He stepped back.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but I saw the letter on your desk. I won’t tell anybody.” I looked over at Mitch. “Anybody else.”
Ryan blew out a breath as if he had been holding it for weeks. “You shouldn’t have done that. But in a way, I’m glad you know. I’m glad somebody knows. I got an offer for my book with a plan for two more.”
“That’s awesome. Wait till your old man finds out,” Mitch said.
“Exactly.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. I think your father will love the idea.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. This is a good thing.”
Ryan reached over, and this time he kissed me the way I wanted to be kissed. Mitch’s whistle broke us up.
“Your dad sure was curious when I came down the stairs.”
“I’m sure he was.” Ryan leaned in again to resume our kiss.
Mitch stepped forward with a hand on each of our shoulders. “Enough lovey-dovey. Are we going soon?”
I took his hand off my shoulder. “Yes.”
Ryan did the same. “I’ll drive, if that’s okay.”
The three of us headed over to Enchantment, Ryan and I in the front and Mitch in the back.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Tim asked when we stood awkwardly at the counter.
Ryan had a hand resting lightly on my shoulder, something Tim didn’t miss. “We thought we should all have lunch.”
Dressed casually in a black-and-gray-striped cashmere sweater, Tim leaned over the counter, his elbows on the glass. It must have been a slow day at the bookstore. He already looked bored. “Sure. When?”
“Today. With Darla,” I said.
“Darla? Why Darla?”
“Because we need to talk to her,” Ryan answered.
“Darla isn’t going to like this.” Tim picked up the phone. Why did Tim need to flirt so much? He could have been a male model with his looks. Still, though, it wasn’t enough for him.
I smiled. “Darla doesn’t like anything I do. Why should she change now?”
As Tim explained to his girlfriend we were coming over, he put his hand over the phone and faced us. “She wants to know why we can’t just meet at a restaurant.”
“Tell her I’m trying to get a vibe on the killer,” I answered. Ryan shot me a glance. Speaking of visions, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if there were texts from Gigi. There were. I opened up three of them, but they were all about the wonders of candles. I glanced out the window. Jane’s van was parked in front of the art gallery.
Tim relayed our news, and the sound of Darla’s voice was clear even through the tiny speaker. She was not pleased.
“Great. We’ll see you in about an hour. And, don’t worry, we’ll bring sandwiches.” He placed
the phone back in the charger with great care as if it might trigger some sort of bomb.
“What is this really all about?” Tim asked.
Ryan sighed. “I know this is going to sound strange, but how much do you really know about Darla?”
“More than you, obviously. And as long as we’re asking questions, what’s going on between you and Gabby?”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
“I think you know what I mean. Yesterday you were sure she was behind all of the places being robbed around here, and today you’re …” he searched for the word and finally came up with, “touching her.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No. If she’s okay with that, then you go right on ahead.”
I smiled. “I’m okay with that.”
Tim loved being in love but didn’t seem to be comfortable knowing the ones he left behind were no longer pining for him.
The store door opened, and Katy walked in with little Timmy, who was resisting holding her hand. Since she had revealed he might have autism, this was the first time I could actually see any behavior that might be considered a symptom.
“Just for a minute,” she told him, raising her eyebrows.
It was evident she had something on her mind, so I nudged Ryan and we situated ourselves on one of the miniature reading benches that was only about two and a half feet off the floor.
Ryan folded his large frame to fit onto the bench, and I wondered if it would hold our weight. I scooted over a little, the chair groaning beneath us.
“Thanks,” Ryan whispered. Mitch was over in the corner with his nose in a book featuring a large blue elephant on the cover.
Katy didn’t look as perky as she had been on previous occasions. Timmy, dressed in a shirt with a turtle on it, was begrudgingly following her, not even bothering to look at the imaginative displays around him. “Tim, can I have a word with you for a minute? I need some money for the transmission on the car. Remember?”
Tim glanced back at us to explain. “Can you believe it? Katy drove all the way here, and now her transmission starts acting up.” He put a hand on her back. “Come on and I’ll write you a check.” He turned back, “You two can watch Timmy for a moment, can’t you?”
Did we have a choice? Timmy now stood in front of us, hands on his hips, glad to be free of his mother’s grasp.
“You guys are awfully big for kids. That bench is supposed to be for kids.” He had a distinct look of disdain in his eyes. Ryan tried to get up off the bench, but it was so low to the ground it took some effort. For a kid that was supposed to have autistic tendencies and serious shyness, he seemed pretty comfortable telling us to move.
“You’re absolutely right, please take my seat.”
Timmy then eyed the empty space next to me. “Well? What about you? You’re not a kid either.” I scrambled off the bench, trying not to catch my foot in the hem of my madras cotton skirt. Ryan extended a hand to help me up, holding it just a second longer than necessary.
Tim and Katy returned to the front of the store as she stashed a check in her denim bag. “Come on, squirt. Let’s go pay for the car.” She waved to us, grabbed Timmy, and left as quickly as she had shown up.
“Does she do that often?” Ryan asked.
Tim straightened some items on the counter. “What?”
Ryan leaned over the counter, drawing closer to Tim. “Ask you for money?”
“Sometimes. You have to give her a break. She’s been raising little Timmy alone all these years. It’s the least I can do.”
Ryan’s lips pursed and then formed a frown. “Did you ask for a paternity test?”
“Come on. He looks just like me.”
Ryan’s comeback was fast. “So that means you didn’t.”
Tim snapped, “That means I don’t have to. Why are you so interested in my life today?”
Mitch emerged from the children’s books. “We think Darla might be the killer. And if she is, you could be in danger. We would like to look around your house to see if she …”
“Is hiding anything,” I finished his sentence.
“Oh, you mean like a bloody knife or Amelia’s picture taped to the wall with a big red ‘X’ over it?”
“Something like that,” Ryan said.
I raised my hand to get Tim’s attention. “And that’s another thing. Does Darla smoke?”
“I don’t think so. Really? This is why you’re intruding on my home today? So you can prove my girlfriend is some kind of cold-blooded killer?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Ryan said.
Mitch leaned across the counter. “Maybe. You never know about those dark, brooding types.”
“I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve been getting readings from the murder. Psychic readings. It’s just little bits and pieces of things, and I think being at your house might help me put some of the clues together. With all that’s happened with Mitch, any little thing might help.”
Mitch looked up at the mention of his name and smiled.
“Whatever.” Tim grabbed his keys from under the counter and stuck his head through the back-room curtain. “Marley, I’ll be back in an hour.”
As we reentered the street, Jane was loading up Gigi in the van. Gigi started when she saw me.
Jane waved. “Hi, Gabby.”
“Hi, Jane. Gigi.”
Gigi continued to stir in her wheelchair. I had a feeling she had something to tell me, but the Tobii screen was dark. It had to be unplugged while Jane helped her into the van, so Gigi remained mute.
“Sorry, we can’t stop to talk,” Jane said. “We have a doctor’s appointment, and the battery on the Tobii needs charging. See you in class.” Jane closed the van door on Gigi as her eyes met mine.
Chapter 31
An hour later we sat around a dining room table with a fresh bag of drive-through sandwiches in front of us. Tim and Darla’s home was stylish to the point of being cold. The table was black lacquer and chrome with a glass top reminding me of something that would look better in a boardroom. The art was, of course, all Darla’s work. The main colors were black, white, and red. It was nothing like the stuff she nailed up in the local eateries. With these paintings, I was seeing the real Darla, and she had only three colors to her rainbow. The stiff back of the chair I sat on was unyielding, and after a while I found myself repositioning for comfort.
“So?” Darla asked as she picked at her sandwich. Today she wore a tight gray shirred jersey dress that flattered her boyish figure. Must have been all those salads she was always eating.
“So, what?” I answered as I took a bite of my turkey club sandwich.
“So, are you getting any x-ray signals from your planet?”
Mitch spoke in a nasal voice, imitating a radio transmission. “Mars calling Gabby. Mars calling Gabby.”
I swallowed and glared at my little brother. “Uh, not yet. It might be all this chrome. I’ll bet Amelia spent an hour in this room alone. How many surfaces can you see yourself in, Darla?”
Darla pinched her lips together to hold back the words she was dying to say. She was excellent at throwing out the insults, but when she knew a few might be heading her way, she didn’t seem so brave. “I never would have agreed to this if I didn’t think your hocus pocus might be a way to get the police off my tail.”
“Ditto for me, sister,” Mitch said.
Tim balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and then pointed at me. “Don’t you have to get in some sort of trance state first? I might have some incense in a drawer somewhere.”
Ryan chuckled into his sandwich.
“Stop it,” I said, turning to Darla. “With your permission, I’d like to walk around a little bit. Maybe I can pick up on something Amelia touched.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just stay out of my studio.”
I gave her a thin smile. “I’ll do my best.” I rose from the table and started wandering from room to room. I wasn’t even sure if
I could do this. I walked into the living room and sat on Tim and Darla’s couch. There were several issues of Modern Artist splayed out dentist-office style. It was the kind of thing a cleaning lady would do. I placed my hand on them and shut my eyes for a moment. Trying to drown the sound of the lunch chatter in the dining room, I made an effort to put Amelia’s face in my head. I began to hear voices, but instead of getting Amelia, I started picking up on bickering between Tim and Darla. I gazed down the hall to the dining room and saw the two of them listening to Mitch. The fight I was hearing was in the past. A vibration from this room. There had to have been plenty of arguments to zero in on in this room.
I tried again. This time, I could see Amelia standing partly in the door of the studio. Tim and Darla now stood in front of the picture window, their arms flailing as they argued with each other. She was watching them, and they didn’t know it. Her face registered something I didn’t understand. She was frightened. Terrified. I couldn’t understand her fear. The argument didn’t have anything to do with her. Her gaze turned from them to me, searing through me. She reached out her hand to me as if I could pull her out of her pain. Her eyes widened even more and then she ran from the door.
“Trying to soak up some artistic talent?” Darla sniped in my ear as my hand remained on the art magazine. Amelia was gone. The scene in my head had disappeared. “I think you’re a bit late for that.”
I refocused my gaze. Darla was standing right in front of me, a little too close for my own personal comfort. Could she be the killer? She had a cold, cruel side to her—that was for sure. I felt it in my vision, and I was feeling it right now.
“Yep. That’s it. You got me.” I had felt Amelia as she died but had never seen her as a whole apparition before. Goosebumps were forming on my arms. It was so much better when I just drew something. Seeing things like this made me feel I might be going crazy. I called out, “I’ve seen enough. Ryan, Mitch? Let’s go.”
Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1) Page 16