I grab some Chinese food on the way home. My body needs the salt and my brain craves the indulgence. Lo Mein in place of rice is my idea of treating myself. I eat my meal on the couch while watching the five o’clock news and am surprised not to see a mention of Marti’s arrest. It occurs to me I also haven’t seen any on my social media feeds, though I subscribe to all the local news outlets. A satisfied Meatball purrs next to me, having begged his way into a piece of bourbon chicken. As I pull out the fortune cookie, my phone sounds off.
“Good afternoon, Lacy. This is Ruby.” She must not be aware that cell phones tell you who’s calling.
“Hi Ruby, how are you holding up?”
“If I were doing any better, dear, there’d be two of me. Did Miss Juanita deliver my message?”
“If you mean to come to the store at the usual time tonight, yes, she did. And I suspect I know why you want us there.”
“If you’ve guessed ‘vindication’, you’ve guessed correctly.”
Then I’m not even close. “Vindication? What are you vindicating?”
“My good self, dear! And the truth! Oh, and you, as well.”
“Me?” I wasn’t aware I required vindication.
“To an extent, yes. Remember what I said about reading the signs? They’re there, you just have to recognize them when you see them. Well, I was a bit slow on the uptake, but I got there some time after the witching hour this morning and I’ve been on it ever since.”
“You haven’t slept?”
“I’ll sleep the sleep of the dead, but not until all the loose ends are tied up.”
“So, you will be telling us how the murder was committed? Is that what tonight is about?”
“Tonight, all skeletons will be aired. All questions will be answered. But how Marlene was murdered is the least interesting of my revelations. Oh goodness, look at the time. So much to do before tonight. I’ll see you there!”
The phone goes dead. I stare at it in my hand for a moment as though willing it to give me more of the answers I seek. With none forthcoming, I set it aside and realize I hold something else in my hand. A small slip of white paper. The fortune from the cookie I cracked open as Ruby called. I turn it over and am reminded of Ruby’s maxim that the signs are there if only you can recognize them.
The fortune reads ‘Time reveals all’.
TWENTY-THREE
When I arrive at Run For It I find a nearly empty parking lot. Whatever is happening tonight is obviously a private affair. From the cars I can tell Chase, Gretchen, Carly, and Ruby are already inside. Stax either walked over from the bookstore or hasn’t made it yet.
I enter the store and about fall on my keister when I see Ruby talking with Gretchen at the back near a rack of visors and hats. Yesterday, she all but accused the young woman of murder and here they are chatting like old friends.
Jessica and Billy, the store employees, are also here helping Chase straighten up the racks and shelves thrown about the night before. They must have been at it for some time as the store is all but returned to its normal appearance.
The area behind the sales counter is still sectioned off with yellow police tape, forcing Carly to rubberneck over the cash register to see what evidence of criminality might still be on display. A quick glance tells me there is nothing more than a broken display case to show anything untoward happened.
Upon seeing me, Ruby abandons Gretchen and Chase sets down his broom to come over and greet me. Chase reaches me first and wraps me in a tight hug. I’m pretty sure my feet left the floor for a moment.
“Thank you for coming,” he says in my ear as Ruby appears over his shoulder.
“How’s Marti?” I ask Chase. He makes a sound, like a little laugh, and it strikes me as inappropriate.
“She’s fine. Quite good, in fact. She took a heavy blow to the head, but I’ve always said she has a thick skull.”
And it gets weirder. Chase puts me down and I waste no time in moving myself to another side of the store, closer to the street entrance and window displays. Maybe if I mingle in with the mannequins, everyone else will forget I’m here. Ruby follows me.
“Is your little friend on her way?” she asks.
“If you mean Stax, I haven’t talked to her. I assume she’ll walk up here from the bookstore like she usually does.”
“No rush, I suppose. I have another guest I’m expecting and although I’ll be doing much of the speaking this evening, you might say he is the master of ceremonies.”
The door behind me opens and in comes Stax. She wears a soft pink chiffon blouse with puffy sleeves, her arms adorned with a random assortment of bracelets. I manage not to laugh.
“Did I miss anything good?” she asks.
“Are you expecting something good to happen?” Because I certainly am not.
“I don’t know what the heck to expect. Why do you think I wore my good blouse?”
That’s Stax. It doesn’t have to make sense as long as it makes sense to her. I find it adorable she fancies herself gussied up even though she is still wearing her usual pair of old jeans.
Carly saunters up a little closer. “You have a lot of nerve to show your faces here.” Her brown locks are as shiny and as coiffed as usual, but the thicker foundation applied under her eyes does little to hide the baggage. Something has kept her up at night. I don’t know what Carly is talking about and I doubt Stax does, either, but that doesn’t stop her from firing back.
“Is there a mirror behind me? Because when I saw you I thought the exact same thing.” Stax’s bracelets rattle like a jar of screws as she swings her arms in exaggerated motions.
“You can make jokes, but if you ask me, the cops have the wrong person. I think your friend, Lacy, is the one who should be behind bars.”
How audacious can she be? Sure, I accused her of the same murder, but not to her face and in public! “Carly, I don’t appreciate your accusations. You know I haven’t done anything.”
“I know you threatened to kill my friend, and now she’s dead. I know you’ve been sticking your nose in people’s business. And I know Marti wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
I couldn’t deny anything she said, but I had plenty of my own ammo on her if she wanted to play war. “Oh yeah? I know a few things about you, too, Carly. Should we air it all out right here?”
“Ladies, that is enough for now,” Ruby says, putting her hands in the air and stepping between us like a boxing referee. “We have a lot of business to attend to. Chase was good enough to set out chairs for us all, so if everyone would, please take one. I’m still awaiting the arrival of one very special guest, but I suppose now would be a good time for the preliminaries.”
Everyone is dumbstruck to see this little old lady bossing them around. Everyone except Stax and myself, that is, and Chase, for some inexplicable reason.
“Come on, folks, grab a chair,” Chase says as he takes one of the armless plastic chairs and turns it to face Ruby. He sits down in an obvious fashion, as though to encourage the others to follow suit. And indeed, they do. I choose to remain standing, not to be obstinate, but simply because I am too high strung for a chair right now. If I sit down now I’ll fidget everyone to death.
Ruby begins her slow pacing again, warming her engines. “Some of you are aware, and some are not, that the recent crime is not the first murder mystery in which Marlene Petrick found herself entangled. It was eighteen years ago now and only six months into the new century that a young lady by the name of Kayleigh Cook lost her life amidst circumstances no less gruesome and mysterious than Marlene herself. Although a great many of the details of the original investigation are now known to me, I’ll discuss only those pertinent to our present situation. Because, make no mistake about it, the two murders are very much connected.”
Ruby makes the sales floor her stage and sets about delivering a mini-lecture on Marlene’s previous life as a salon owner. She doesn’t shy from scandalizing the more sensitive souls present by addressing the rumor that
the girls in Marlene’s employ were encouraged to offer other, more illicit, services. Her grand finish is a spine-chilling recounting of the tragic murder Kayleigh Cook.
Ruby paces. “She was stabbed to death with a pair of barber scissors. Scissors identical to those left around town for Marlene to find as of late. Whoever was doing this to Marlene knew what they were doing. Did the police have a suspect in mind for the Cook murder? They looked at some individuals but found nothing solid against any of them. However, a friend of mine who happens to be a retired-police-detective-turned-private-investigator has recently discovered something in the file overlooked by the original investigators. Can I tell you about it? I could, but I won’t. At least not yet. Am I being coy on purpose? You bet your sweet bippy, as the kids used to say!
“I must be careful about the words I choose, when I use them, and who is within earshot, because in this quaint little running shop we all love so much, there are more secrets behind every door, around every corner, and in every nook than in any of my Inspector Butterwell novels. My stock in trade for many years was inventing the most dastardly villain I could imagine and cloaking them in the image of an angel. I would then devise for them a plot so cunning the sharpest minds could not see it for what it was until it was too late. I can attest to the fact that this was no easy task. I did all my work at a desk and was held accountable only to my publisher should I go astray.
“The villain we seek is an entirely different breed. This is a person who committed their crimes in the real world, out in the open, and not holed up in a study. And to achieve their wicked aims they risked everything precious to them. No, indeed, this is not someone I’m eager to have against me without taking precaution!”
“Ruby, dear, are you feeling all right?” It was Jessica who spoke from the back of the room, seated in a chair between two racks of shiny black windbreakers that threatened to swallow her. “You invite us all here for—whatever this is—and now you’re saying all this about wickedness and dastardly this and villain that while Chase is not ten feet from you. It was just last night that he found out his wife…well, you know. It’s in poor taste what you’re doing.”
Gretchen lets out a sound like ‘Pffft’ and says under her breath “From what I hear, Chase isn’t so innocent himself.” All eyes turn to her, shocked that someone so sweet and quiet would be so forward. “Oh my gosh, did I say that out loud? I’m so sorry! Chase, please forgive me.” Her cheeks blossom and her eyes tear up.
Chase laughs—yes, laughs—and waves it away. “It’s perfectly all right. And Jessica, thank you for what you said, but what Ruby is doing here tonight is with my full blessing.”
“Boss, well, I don’t…” Jessica is unable to comprehend why a grieving man appears so lighthearted as he listens to a near stranger denigrating his duplicitous wife. Jessica holds a hand up in truce and forces a smile as she swallows whatever unfinished thoughts are still in her head. I confess I am right there with her.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” continues Ruby in her usual congenial fashion, as though nothing had been said against her, “but I’m trying to kill a little time until my final guest can arrive. Once he does we can begin in earnest.”
I wince as the dark sky outside suddenly goes bright, like a giant flashlight pointed in my eyes. The source is the headlights of multiple cars pulling into the parking lot.
Carly rises and lurches over to the floor-to-ceiling display window that runs the length of the store’s front. “Cops? What are the cops doing here?”
“Oh good, my guest has arrived. We can begin,” Ruby says excitedly.
Detective Bentley enters and nods to everyone present. Unless I’m imagining things, his eye lingers on me for a moment longer. It looks like he is to be accompanied by a uniformed officer, but instead the cop remains outside the door. I look to the side entrance and see another cop, who might be Diebold. Is something about to go down?
“I don’t think I like this,” Carly says. “You didn’t mention anything about the police when you called me.”
Ruby ignores Carly and engages in a hushed conversation with Detective Bentley.
“You got something to be worried about, Carly?” asks Stax, a snarky grin on her face.
Carly returns to her chair, smiling smugly. “No, but your friend might.”
I’ve had enough of the insinuation. “Carly, if you’d like to accuse me of something, now is your chance to present your evidence. Otherwise, please keep your mouth shut.”
“Ladies, don’t make me put you in the corner,” Ruby says. “The detective is here for the same reason as the rest of us. He’s here for the truth.”
Gretchen raises her hand and clears her throat to draw attention her way. She appears tepid, almost mousy. “I don’t want to fight with anyone, but I must say I’m curious about the police as well. They arrested Marti, right? If the case is solved, why are they here?”
I am wondering the same thing. I know Ruby is up to something, that she can’t accept Marti as a murderess. While I could maybe see her convincing a desperate Chase that someone other than Marti is behind the grim business of late, I cannot fathom Ruby succeeding in convincing Detective Bentley of anything with charm and persuasion alone. She would need to bring the hard evidence. So, what is he doing here?
I look to Ruby for a sign. After her silent pleasantries with Bentley she glances over to Chase, who is again smiling oddly. He nods to Ruby, as though giving approval for something, and she nods back. What is going on here? Chase stands and walks away from the sales counter and over to the door leading back to the catacombs of the building. He raps his knuckles three times on the door and steps away. Chase, Ruby, and Bentley all stare towards the door. So, naturally, do the rest of us.
It is like watching paint dry for a moment until the knob of the catacomb’s door turns. Someone is coming out, but the door opens outward and from my vantage point I can’t see who. They are taking their time emerging. Is it another cop? A ghoul in a black hoodie? I am about to rush over and pull open the door myself when the figure steps out of the shadows and saves me the trouble.
It is Marti Reynolds. She is dressed in her street clothes and waves sheepishly at us with her uncuffed hand. “Hi,” is all she says.
I decide I could use that chair now.
TWENTY-FOUR
“You’ll have to pardon the dramatic entrance,” Ruby says, her words all but lost in the eruption of gasps and murmurs, “but I thought it prudent that Marti not be standing behind the counter greeting everyone as they came in this evening, lest you all turn and run in fright.”
I wouldn’t have thought so few people could make so much noise, but in its previous life the store was a bank, so there’s something to be said for thick walls. At least one person (I believe it was Jessica) yelled out ‘Marti!’ as though she were a celebrity on the red carpet.
Chase walks over and hugs his wife. As she falls into his embrace I see the bandage on the back of her head.
Stax is scratching her chin. She stands from her chair as though she is going to approach Marti, then sits back down. It is relieving to know she is as lost as myself.
“It’s cool to see you, Marti, but… shouldn’t you be in jail, or something? Maybe the hospital? Or, you know, jail,” asks Stax incredulously.
Marti laughs. It is hard not to. “The doctor cleared me,” she answers. “I’ve got a bruised bean, but that’s all. As the for the other thing, would you like to answer, Detective Bentley?”
Bentley looks perfectly at home surrounded by all our madness. He says in his usual chill manner, “You can trust me, if Mrs. Reynolds had broken any laws, she’d be in jail right now.”
Stax claps. “So, it’s legal in Cedar Mill to stab Lacy Purdy? Anyone got a pair of scissors I can borrow?”
“Enough, Stax,” I say.
“A knife? A machete? Heck, I’ll settle for paper cuts.”
Marti laughs and hugs Stax. “I love you, too.”
Stax, as is he
r way, goes rigid in Marti’s grip before loosening into a hug. “I gotta bust your chops, right? But seriously, you have some explaining to do, and I mean good explanations, like with annotations, references, the works. Some signed affidavits wouldn’t hurt you, come to think of it.”
“Really, affidavits?” I say.
Stax puckers her lips and nods sharply. “That’s a fun word to say.”
“I’ll say she has explaining to do,” says a salty Carly.
“I’ll be the one doing the explaining this evening.” Ruby steps in front of Carly as though expecting she and I might resume our war of words. “As soon as everyone has settled back down.”
Marti is not yet ready to settle. After letting go of Stax, she looks my way. I don’t mean to, but I wince, and I can tell she notices. I swear it was an involuntary reaction on my part; I am happy to see my friend free and healthy, but a part of my subconscious is screaming at me that this ‘friend’ stabbed me last night. What do you believe, your heart or your eyes?
“Oh, Lacy, what you must think,” Marti says, her eyes tearing up as she pulls me into a deep hug of the long-lost-sibling variety.
“I don’t know what to think, Marti. But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I swear, I’d never hurt you.”
“See, this is where I get confused,” Stax interjects. “Far be it from me to put a damper on this lovefest, but Lacy wasn’t alone last night. I was here. I’m the one who threw the ball that put that lump on your head. I saw your face. I mean, I saw your face!”
Marti starts to plead but Ruby manages to shut her down with the simple wave of a finger. Shutting Stax down isn’t likely to be quite as easy.
“Illusions, Miss Stax. What you saw and what actually occurred are not, in this instance, one and the same. All will be explained shortly.”
“Hey, if you say so, I’m cool,” Stax replies nonchalantly.
Say what? A simple word from Ruby and Stax is willing to believe what she saw—what we saw—wasn’t real? What’s more frustrating is I find myself willing to accept it as well. But not solely based on Ruby’s word. The presence of Detective Bentley makes me think they have something up their sleeves.
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