Fortune's Favors

by J A Whiting

  “She’d gone for a drink with that guy who was questioned about the attempted abduction. You’ve heard about that? His name is Brandon Willis. I think they went out a couple of times.”

  Claire and Nicole nodded.

  “We spoke with him,” Claire said.

  “Well, Brandon wanted to go out again, but Janice got the impression he was looking for a serious relationship so she told him she couldn’t meet up again.” Lisa frowned and shook her head in disgust. “Brandon started stalking Janice. He’d show up places and just stare at her. It was unnerving. I was with her once when he showed up. He was so weird. Jeez. There are plenty of other women in the world. Go find one who is interested in dating you. Did he actually think he could win her over by appearing out of nowhere and gawking at her?”

  “Did it eventually stop?” Nicole asked.

  “Only because Janice died.” Lisa ran a finger over the handle of the mug.

  “Brandon Willis was still bothering Janice then?” Claire asked.

  “He was.”

  “Do you think he had something to do with Janice’s death?”

  “I can’t say one way or the other,” Lisa’s eyes were sad. “I’d love to say it was Brandon, but how do I know? I can’t point the finger at him just because he was odd.”

  “We heard that just before Janice was killed, she and her friend, Brittany Patterson, had a falling out,” Nicole said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Lisa sighed. “Brittany was always a drama queen. I didn’t care for her. She came off like she was your best friend, but then she’d say something mean or she’d ignore you. I told Janice that Brittany was just a user. She wanted an audience, someone she could brag to. Janice was too nice. She could see how Brittany was, but she felt bad pulling away from her and always ended up being friendly again.”

  “We heard that Brittany dated Janice’s neighbor, Joe Bricklin, for a while,” Nicole mentioned.

  “I met Joe. I didn’t like him either. He seemed to pay too much attention to Janice even though he was dating Brittany.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I was over at Janice’s a few times,” Lisa said. “We were out on the front lawn playing with Kelly. Joe would dart over as soon as he saw us and would smile at and chat with Janice. He beamed at her so much I thought his teeth would fall out of his mouth. Janice told me she thought he was a little too friendly. I agreed. We stayed in the backyard after that.”

  “Joe claimed he saw someone at Janice’s door that night,” Claire said.

  Lisa’s steely eyes looked from Claire to Nicole. “Oh, really? That’s convenient, isn’t it? Did he say that to take attention off of himself?”

  “You think he should be a suspect?”

  “Why not? An unrequited crush. Living across the street, seeing Janice every day. If you saw the way he looked at Janice, you’d slap his name right at the top of the list.”

  As Claire thought back over the interviews she’d done on the case, a million feelings of unease pummeled her. Did people lie to her? Did people deliberately place suspicion on others to take attention from themselves? Joe Bricklin claimed to see someone at Janice’s door, but then said he was probably mistaken. Brandon Willis told Claire he only dated Janice once or twice because they weren’t a good match, but Lisa claims Brandon was obsessed with Janice. Brittany reported that she and Janice had a close friendship despite a minor falling out over a comment she made about Janice dating Brandon Willis. Lisa claimed that Brittany was a user and Janice was only friendly with the woman because she would feel badly about ending the friendship.

  Bits of conversation floated on the air and swirled around Claire making her dizzy and unable to grasp at the truth. She made eye contact with Nicole and her friend picked up on her distress and took up the conversation to give Claire time to calm herself.

  “How did you find out Janice had died?” Nicole asked.

  Lisa took a deep breath. “Janice’s mom called me. It was devastating. It was heartbreaking. Mrs. Carter was sobbing into the phone. When I heard her, I knew Janice was gone. I didn’t have to hear the words. I barely heard what she said to me. My head was buzzing. I’ll never forget it.” Lisa wrung her hands together. “My next thought was of Kelly. Was she okay? I got in the car and drove to Chatham Village as fast as I could. When I got there, I hugged Kelly. I was so thankful that little girl was fine. I was going to invite her to stay with me and my husband, but it seemed best that she should stay with her grandparents so they could be a comfort to one another.”

  “Did you keep in touch with Kelly?” Nicole questioned.

  “I saw her a couple of times a month until she moved away to live with her aunt. I sent cards and then emails. I went to her graduation from college.” Lisa let out a long breath of air. “Janice would be so proud of her.”

  “Can you think of anyone else we should talk to?” Nicole asked.

  Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve probably talked to everyone I can think of. Why can’t the killer be found? Why does it have to be so hard?”

  “If the initials ‘BR’ were found at the scene,” Claire asked, “who would first come to mind as the killer?”

  Without hesitation, Lisa said, “Bricklin. Joe Bricklin.”

  16

  When Ian placed the enlarged and enhanced crime scene photo on her kitchen counter, Claire had to suck in a breath and close her eyes for a second.

  “Looking at these kinds of photos never gets easier,” Claire whispered.

  Ian said, “I’ve been in law enforcement for thirteen years and I always wince when I have to look at crime scene photographs. If I ever become hardened to such things, well, that will be the time I should leave the job.”

  Claire’s eyes slowly moved over the picture of Janice Carter’s body face down on her living room floor, her arm outstretched, her finger resting next to the letters she so bravely wrote in her own blood. Focusing on the red letters on the floor, Claire tried to block out the rest of the image. BR.

  Janice most definitely knew her killer and she attempted to write out her attacker’s name so the police would know who was responsible for her death.

  Claire’s vision began to dim and she clutched at the countertop to steady herself, when Ian noticed and took hold of her arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I feel a little dizzy.” Claire raised a hand to her temple.

  “Come, sit down.” Ian led her to a dining room chair. “It’s very upsetting to see the photograph.”

  “I need to see it. Would you bring it over here to the table?” A chill had rushed over Claire’s skin making her shiver and when Ian carried the photo to her, she forced herself to look.

  The upper-case letters seemed to lift off the floor and hover a few inches in the air. They shimmered and changed their form to lower-case, and then altered from block letters to cursive.

  Claire blinked a few times, but kept her gaze pinned on the BR.

  The letters changed back to lower case and slowly fell back to the floor, but just before they touched down, what seemed to be a third letter began to show next to the BR.

  Claire leaned closer and squinted, but just as she thought she could make it out, it disappeared.

  She let out a long sigh and Ian asked her what was wrong. When she told him about a third letter beginning to form, Ian’s face took on a skeptical expression, but it vanished right away when he recalled his girlfriend’s special skill.

  “Do you think there’s another letter? Did Janice write a third letter?” Ian bent to look closer at the photo.

  “I don’t think it’s visible,” Claire said. “I think it can only be seen in my mind.”

  Ian straightened in his seat. “Oh. I see. Could you make out what letter it was?”

  “I didn’t have time. It sank back into the blood.” Claire squeezed the bridge of her nose.

  “Is this skill of yours … a burden?”

  “Sometimes.” Claire gave a slig
ht nod. “Tessa says this isn’t unusual, that the skill will swing from strong to weak. She said it will probably become easier to control as it becomes better developed and I get more used to it. For now, it’s unpredictable and can desert me when I need it most. It’s very frustrating.”

  Ian made tea and he and Claire and the Corgis retreated to the living room to relax.

  “You need to rest.” Ian handed Claire a mug. “This thing of yours … it’s probably best not to try and force it. It’s most likely the kind of thing that needs to blossom on its own and can’t be forced. Take a break from it. Don’t look at the photo again for a couple of days.”

  A little smile played over Claire’s face. “You know a lot about paranormal stuff, huh?”

  “No, but I have a lot of common sense.” Ian grinned as he placed an arm around Claire’s shoulders.

  “Probably one of the most important of all characteristics,” Claire told him.

  Deciding to take a rest from the case, Claire and Ian watched a movie sitting in the middle of the sofa with the dogs like a pair of bookends, one Corgi to the left of Ian and the other one pressed against Claire’s right side.

  Snuggled next to Ian and a warm, furry dog, Claire couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt so relaxed, comfortable, and safe.

  Claire told her friend about the experience of seeing another letter in the blood as she and Nicole strolled around the periphery of the Boston Common while the Corgis ran and played with the other dogs on the hill.

  “It was startling. It came out of nowhere. All of a sudden, a letter seemed to be emerging, but then it was gone before I could make out what it was.”

  “Like Ian said, don’t push,” Nicole told her. “Take another look in a couple days and see if it happens again. Ian really took the news about this thing of yours in stride.”

  “Thankfully. It was a huge relief. He doesn’t look at me like I’m a nut or a kook or a whack-o. He accepted the whole thing with ease. It’s pretty amazing that my best friend and my boyfriend accepted my skill so matter-of-factly. I don’t know how I found you two.”

  Nicole said, “Robby knows you have some kind of ability, too. He’s very perceptive. You can’t hide anything from him.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Maybe Robby will one day show signs of having a skill of his own.”

  “Oh, gee.” Nicole shook her head. “I’m not sure I can handle two paranormal wizards in the store with me.”

  Claire’s phone buzzed and she lifted it to her ear to take the call from Detective Gagnon. After listening for a minute, she said, “Right now? But Nicole and I are on the Common. We have my dogs with us.” Claire’s face took on a look of surprise. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  When she slipped the phone into her pocket, she told her friend, “Detective Gagnon has arranged with the owner of Janice Carter’s former house for us to visit it. Now. He said to bring the dogs. He’s on his way here to pick us up.”

  Gagnon’s car pulled into the short driveway of a pretty, rustic bungalow on a street of similar homes in a quiet neighborhood. Window boxes spilled over with flowers, a picket fence edged around the yard, and there was a small, welcoming front porch.

  The three people and the two dogs stood next to Gagnon’s car looking at the place.

  “Hard to believe someone was murdered in this house,” Nicole said. “It looks so homey and nice.”

  A prickly feeling bounced over Claire’s skin. Despite the well-tended, inviting look of the house, she could feel the horror of the past brushing up against her.

  Lady whined and Bear made a low rumbling sound in his throat.

  “The woman who owns the place is out for a few hours,” Detective Gagnon told them. “She said she was glad to have us look around if it might help solve the crime. She left the door unlocked.”

  “How does she live here without having nightmares all the time?” Nicole asked. “I don’t think I could live in a murder house.”

  Claire’s throat tightened at Nicole’s words and she shivered. A murder house.

  “Shall we?” Gagnon led the way inside. “As you know, there was no sign of forced entry. Janice must have opened the door to the person. She must have known the killer since she started to write his name in the blood.”

  Bear and Lady entered the house with their nose to the floor.

  Claire leaned close to Nicole and whispered, “Catch me if I pass out.”

  Nicole gave her friend a look of a concern.

  “We have the owner’s permission to look around in the rooms. That door over there on the other side of the living room goes to the child’s bedroom.”

  A sofa was placed against the wall with a coffee table in front of it in the same configuration that Janice’s furniture had been.

  “There was blood on Janice’s sofa here.” Gagnon pointed to the new owner’s couch. “There was quite a lot of it which makes it appear that the attack started on the sofa. The attacker must have inflicted a number of stab wounds while Janice sat there.”

  “Would that indicate a sudden burst of anger?” Nicole asked. “Janice and the person must have been talking together if she was sitting on the sofa.”

  “That’s possible,” Gagnon said. “Janice and the attacker could have been conversing as they sat together. For whatever reason, the killer became enraged and began to stab Janice. Another scenario is that the killer ordered Janice to sit down and then began his attack on her.”

  Claire began to feel ill. The edges of her vision began to darken and fade.

  “Janice must have fought back,” the detective said. “The coffee table was askew so they must have fought right here. We assume the knife attack continued and eventually Janice fell to the floor. The killer took off thinking Janice was dead, but she was still alive. She had time to mark out the two letters before succumbing to her wounds.”

  Claire’s ears buzzed. She could feel the chaos in the room. The desperation of a young mother clinging hard to life so her child would not grow up without her. Claire saw the glint of the blade and choked on the attacker’s fury.

  Janice did not cry out. She couldn’t risk waking up her daughter, she had to keep Kelly safe.

  The young woman fell to the floor. The killer ran out the door.

  Janice turned her head and rested her cheek against the glossy wood floor. Her hand moved. Her finger haltingly traced a letter, then a second one.

  Make the third letter, Claire urged.

  The finger touched the blood.

  Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump….

  Silence.

  Janice’s heart stopped beating.

  17

  Tony handed Claire the last can of soup from the carton so she could place it on the shelf. Unable to sleep last night, she was up early so she and the dogs headed down to Tony’s market. Even Augustus hadn’t arrived yet for his morning coffee and newspaper.

  “I’m glad you dragged yourself down here early today,” Tony said. “I wouldn’t have been able to stock the shelves so fast without you.” He wiped his hands on his apron.

  Claire had been telling Tony about the case she and Nicole were helping with. “I didn’t like being in Janice Carter’s former bungalow. The idea of her getting killed in that house really made me feel awful. My head was spinning. I thought I might pass out.”

  “Well, if you did faint, Nicole and the detective were there to catch you.” Tony broke down the cardboard box with his meaty hands. “No shame in feeling someone else’s pain and loss. It’s not a sign of weakness to be sensitive to such things, it’s a sign of strength.”

  “I sure didn’t feel very strong when I was in that house yesterday.”

  Lady walked down the store’s skinny aisle and paused to give Claire a lick on the hand.

  “Good dog.” Claire patted the Corgi on the head.

  “Did being in the house help with any clues?” Tony asked.

  “Not really.” Claire pushed her blond curls into a high p
onytail and started to count the day’s money into the cash register. “It was more just to get a feel for the space. The little daughter’s bedroom is right off the living room. The fight in the living room didn’t wake the daughter. The attack must have been over pretty fast. It seems clear that Janice must not have screamed to prevent her daughter from waking up and coming out to see what was happening.”

  “That was a brave woman,” Tony said. “The daughter had to be her number one priority.”

  Claire brought up the letters written on the floor. “Imagine having the presence of mind to try and write out the killer’s name.”

  Tony paused in preparing the deli meats and cheeses and looked across the room at nothing. With a sigh, he said, “I can’t imagine it. I hope Detective Gagnon can piece together what you, Nicole, and he know so the monster will be arrested.”

  Claire was about to say something when Tony waved his hand. “Oh, I know it will be next to impossible to make an arrest, but miracles happen, Blondie. Don’t give up on it.”

  With a smile, Claire told the man, “I was about to say, I’m not going to give up on Janice. I’ll do whatever I can to find the man who stole her life from her and who stole a mother away from her daughter.”

  “I knew you’d do nothing less.” Tony gave her a nod. “So, as it stands, who are you leaning towards as the killer?”

  “That’s the problem,” Claire said. “No one stands out. A case can’t be made against anyone yet. That’s why Brandon Willis wasn’t arrested and brought to trial thirty years ago. Even though suspicion can be cast on a few people, there isn’t a shred of evidence to charge anyone.”

  “Does your intuition point to anyone?” Tony placed a stack of paper bags under the counter.

  Claire gave the man a look. Tony didn’t know about her special skill, but when he mentioned her intuition, Claire’s heart skipped a beat. “There’s Joe Bricklin, the neighbor. Years ago, he claimed to have seen a man at Janice’s door that night, but he’s retracted the statement saying he isn’t sure any longer. What he saw might only have been a shadow.”