Deadly Summer (Darling Investigations Book 1)

by Denise Grover Swank

“You should start filming,” she said. “Maybe film yourself first, then turn it around to show what I’m doing.”

  “I’m sure I look like crap.” I hadn’t looked in a mirror since this whole ordeal had begun.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “Makes it look more authentic, don’t ya think? Less Hollywood and more like a real PI.”

  A soft grin lifted the corners of my mouth as I pulled the camera out from under the blanket. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “I know a thing or two.”

  I suspected Dixie wasn’t used to people finding merit in her ideas. “You know more than a thing or two.” After a few seconds of fumbling, I turned on the camera and flipped the viewfinder so I could center the frame on my face. Thankfully, I didn’t look as bad as I’d expected, but Karen would no doubt be thrilled by the large bruise surfacing on the right side of my forehead.

  “Three, two, one,” I said, then launched into my reporting. “It’s rumored that Otto Olson died from alcohol poisoning, but a few things aren’t adding up. One, the sheriff’s department thinks his body was moved. If he died from alcohol poisoning, who moved him and why? That’s what my partner Dixie and I are trying to find out, and since I’m currently a patient in the Sweet Briar Hospital, we decided to take a ride down to the basement, which happens to house the morgue, in the hopes of finding someone who can give us a few answers.”

  I stopped the recording. “Dixie, we can’t show us sneaking into the morgue. We could get charged with breaking and entering, along with a bunch of other charges I’m sure Luke would love to throw at me.”

  “Fine, but let’s still record it all and figure out what to keep or delete later.”

  I wasn’t sure that was so smart, but it might be good to have something to review later, especially since my head was still fuzzy. “Okay.”

  She stopped in front of a door with the numbers 0134 engraved on a plague. “This is it.”

  “It doesn’t say morgue.”

  “It doesn’t have to. Besides, no need to advertise it.” She moved in front of me and pulled two hairpins from her pocket. After a few seconds, I heard the lock click and she opened the door.

  “I’m scared to ask why you know how to do that.”

  “And yet it’s a valuable life skill,” she said with a grin as she pocketed the pins. “It’s gotten me out of a few jams.”

  “Or into them,” I teased.

  She laughed. “Your brain damage must be improving.”

  My answering grin slipped away the moment she pushed the door open more and flicked on the lights. There was a sheet-covered body on a metal cart in the middle of the white sterile room, but we’d expected that. I’d forgotten about the other body, but of course it would still be in here. There it was on a gurney on the opposite side of the room, covered with another sheet, thank God.

  I covered my stomach with my hand. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Dixie turned around and bent at the knees to look in my eyes. “Oh, no, you don’t! No barfin’ and leavin’ evidence that we were here.”

  I couldn’t promise anything, so I said, “Just find what you’re lookin’ for, and let’s go.”

  “It’s probably in Doc Bailey’s office, which is on the other side of the room.”

  I shuddered. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Summer.”

  “No. No way. I’m not goin’ in there. I’m not maneuvering a wheelchair in there.” I shuddered.

  She pushed out a massive sigh and tried to open the door on the other side, then pulled out her pins again. This lock seemed to take longer, but she finally got it open, and I was surprised to see there was a light already on in the room She came back, grabbed the camera, and started filming as she walked toward the door.

  My eyes kept drifting to the dead bodies, and my stomach twisted more and more, making me regret my attempt to eat that cardboard meat loaf—but not the strawberry pie . . . never regret pie. I closed my eyes, which proved a mistake because the smells hit me. Nearly a minute later, I was thinking about telling Dixie I was going to wait by the elevators when I heard it ding.

  Shit.

  Voices filtered down the hall.

  “. . . nothing unusual, Luke,” I heard an older man say.

  Double shit. There was a sound of banging metal down the hall, immediately followed by Luke’s cursing. “Why don’t you get the damn lights fixed, Doc?”

  “It saves the hospital money,” he grunted.

  I had a sudden appreciation that the lights were out.

  But I couldn’t stay here or we’d be found out—and now that we were down here, it was painfully obvious we couldn’t explain away our break-in as some sort of demented stroll. I got to my feet, flipped off the morgue light, and pushed the wheelchair close to the wall, letting it join the ranks of the other abandoned chairs. Where was I going to hide? My sole option wasn’t a great one—I’d have to make a beeline through the damn morgue to join Dixie in the office. Our only real hope was if there was somewhere to hide in there. Or that they never went in.

  I suspected my luck wasn’t that good.

  But I had another, more immediate issue—I still had an IV, and the bag was currently attached to the pole on the chair. I stood on my tiptoes to pull it off the hook, but I couldn’t see what I was doing, and the voices were getting louder.

  “It was all pretty cut-and-dried,” the doctor said.

  “Humor me,” Luke said.

  I jerked the bag again, to no avail, and I realized I had two options—stand there and be prepared to come up with some wacky explanation, or jerk out my IV and run into the morgue.

  Not a fan of self-inflicted pain, I was tempted to go with the first, but where would that leave Dixie? I gave the bag one last try. It came unhooked this time, but the tubing of my IV got caught on the wheelchair handle, jerking the needle out of my hand.

  I bit my lip in an effort to not cry out, already running across the hall into the morgue while clutching my now-useless IV bag. I shut the door behind me and had the sense to lock it, even though I was locking myself into a room with two dead men.

  A soft glow still emanated from the cracked door through which Dixie had disappeared, so I hurried toward it, bumping into the wall as a wave of vertigo hit me. I’d just gotten into the office and shut the door when I heard the men’s voices in the other room.

  I glanced behind me and realized I wasn’t in an office after all—I was in a lab, and the counters were lined with lots of buckets and plastic bags filled with what looked like body parts steeped in fluid.

  I was definitely going to be sick.

  No. No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t be.

  There was no sign of Dixie, but I still had my phone in my hand, so I sent her a text that I was in the lab hiding from Luke and Doc Bailey.

  Seconds later, she appeared in a doorway on the other side of the big room. She moved closer, and I held my finger to my lips and pointed to the door, then pressed my ear to the wood. It was a risk, but something told me we had to hear what they were saying.

  Dixie stood next to me and did the same.

  “No sign of trauma,” the doctor said. “But here’s the interesting part—you said he hadn’t been seen since Sunday, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He hasn’t been dead for that long. My best guess is that he died sometime last night.”

  “Then where’s he been?” Luke asked.

  The doctor chuckled. “That falls under your job description.”

  “There wasn’t anything on him that gave any hints as to where he’d been?”

  “Nothing I can see, but I’m waiting to see if you want to send him to Montgomery for a forensic autopsy.”

  “I take it you ran a blood alcohol?”

  “Yep. Three-point-one.”

  Luke was silent for a moment. “Otto was a drunk, but never that drunk.”

  “His tolerance was probably built up. But I can tell you that I’m ninety-nine percent certain he die
d from alcohol poisoning.”

  “But how did he get moved, and why?”

  “That falls under your job description too,” the doctor said with a grin in his voice. “Do you think it was Summer?”

  “She can’t weigh one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet,” he said. “She would have needed help.”

  One hundred and twenty pounds!

  “You think her cousin helped her? She tends to be on the wild side.”

  “I don’t know . . . ,” he said. “My gut tells me no, but . . .”

  “You’re worried your past with Summer is clouding your judgment?”

  “Yeah. And Dixie.”

  What did that mean? I shot a glance at Dixie. I couldn’t make out her face very well, but I felt her body tense. I reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

  “Anything I don’t already know about the other guy?” Luke said.

  “Gunshot wound to the head from close range. Entry through the forehead and the exit wound out the back of the skull. Pretty clear-cut cause of death.”

  Luke sighed. “Now I just have to find out who killed him.”

  “Glad that’s your job,” the doctor said. “Still not ready to release his name?”

  “He doesn’t have any family here. We’re trying to track someone down first. The guy he’s known to hang out with is currently missing.”

  “You think his friend killed him and ditched town?”

  “It’s a working theory.”

  “Maybe Maybelline could ask about the friend on her Facebook page,” the doctor said.

  “Since when do you use Facebook?” Luke asked.

  “I don’t, but I know half this damn town does. They rely on it more than they do the newspapers.”

  “Can’t do it,” Luke groaned. “It’s poor taste, Doc. Besides, as nosy as this town is, half of them will be callin’ Amber to speculate about him being the murder victim. The town’s in enough chaos with that film crew muckin’ around.”

  “Nevertheless . . .”

  “No,” Luke barked. “I’ll figure out another way.” Then his tone softened. “I’m done here. Thanks for meetin’ me so late.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, Luke.”

  They had been silent for a moment when Luke said, “Why are there blood drops on the floor? You and your staff are meticulous for cleaning up, and this is fresh.” His voice sounded strained.

  “Good question.”

  “Shit,” Luke said. “Do you think someone was down here tampering with the bodies?”

  “The morgue door was locked,” the doctor said. “And the bodies were undisturbed.”

  “What about the blood specimens?” Luke asked. “What if they were after them?”

  “Why would they be? I could get new samples.”

  Luke was quiet for a moment. “Humor me and check anyway.”

  That was our cue to hide.

  Dixie grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door on the other side of the lab, which turned out to be a small hallway. She darted into the first door to the right—a small supply closet—tugging me in with her and carefully shutting the door.

  We heard the two men walk into the lab a few feet away.

  “There’s blood in here,” Luke said. “By the door, and it stops in front of the evidence fridge. Shit.”

  “It doesn’t look tampered with,” the doctor said.

  “You got a pair of gloves I can use so I don’t get prints on the fridge?”

  “Sure,” he said, but he sounded like he was placating him. We heard the jangle of keys, and a few seconds later the doctor said, “See. It’s all accounted for.”

  “So how do you explain the blood?”

  “We have a new lab tech, and he’s been known to be a little sloppy. I’ll give him a talkin’-to tomorrow. Now let’s get out of here. I’m gonna miss Law and Order.”

  “You can DVR that, Doc.”

  “All those letters. VHS. DVR. CD-ROM. A bunch of alphabet soup.” Their voices grew fainter, and I heard the door close in the other room.

  Dixie and I waited for a good half minute before we opened the supply closet.

  “Well, the good news is that Luke doesn’t suspect you,” Dixie said.

  “That’s true,” I said. “And we know what killed Otto.”

  “Not necessarily. Luke’s right. Otto was never shit-faced drunk. He always seemed to have a good buzz, and that was about it.”

  “So how do you explain his blood alcohol level?”

  “I dunno,” she said. “But if he drank himself dead on his own, how do you explain the Jim Beam? Or that he was moved? Where did he die?”

  I sighed. “So basically we still know nothing.”

  “We’ll start lookin’ for more clues tomorrow,” Dixie said as we walked into the morgue and shut the door behind us, plunging us into darkness. She flipped on the flashlight beam and started for the door—then stopped. “I want to see him.”

  “Who? Otto?”

  “Nope. The mystery guy. I want to see if I know who he is.”

  “No. No way. He’s got a bullet hole in his forehead.”

  She ignored my protests and walked around the center table to the one against the wall. Grabbing the sheet with one hand and holding the flashlight on the body with the other, she paused and then gave a good yank.

  I inched closer and stood next to the side of the gurney, staring down at his face. I swallowed hard when I saw the red circle on his forehead. I’d seen him before.

  He was the man who’d been talking to Mayor Sterling in the alley the day before. “I know him.”

  But Dixie was as stiff as a statue as she stared down at him, her face nearly the color of the off-white sheet covering his body.

  “Dixie? Do you know him?” From the way she was staring at him, I was pretty sure she didn’t just know him—she knew him well. “Dixie. Who is he?”

  “Ryker Pelletier. My ex-boyfriend.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I jerked the sheet out of her clenched fist and covered his face back up. Once his face was out of sight, she seemed to get ahold of herself.

  Her arm snaked around my waist. “Let’s get you back to your chair,” she said quietly.

  I let her guide me out of the room and back to the wheelchair while I cradled my stupid IV bag like a baby. It was then that she realized it was no longer attached to me.

  “The blood was from you,” she murmured, picking up the blanket that had been on my lap off the seat and then helping me into the chair. She took the bag, hung it back up, and stuffed the end of the tube under the blanket. The camera went in along with it.

  “I saw him yesterday, Dixie,” I said, looking up at her. “I saw him arguing with the mayor behind Maybelline’s restaurant, and he was the one who dropped the money in the parking lot.”

  I couldn’t tell Luke that I’d seen him before because I wasn’t supposed to be down here. Still, the information I had was important. It was looking more and more likely that the mayor was up to something shady, but I couldn’t just come out and accuse him of it. I was pretty sure most of the people in town loved him.

  What was I going to do? But at the moment I was more worried about my cousin. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to him?”

  Dixie started pushing the chair toward the elevator. “I know who Luke is looking for. Ed Reynolds. Ed was Ryker’s best friend.”

  “Ed? Oh, my God.” I tried to turn to glance at her, but the sudden motion sent a wave of nausea through my body. “Cale told me Ed showed up at the police station to see if anyone had turned in the money. But Ryker dropped that bag. I’m sure of it. Why would Ed pick it up?”

  “Ed and Ryker have a shop together . . . or I guess had a shop together.”

  “Do you think Ed could have killed Ryker?”

  “I don’t know . . . maybe. He had a temper sometimes.” Dixie stopped in front of the elevator and reached to press the button, but I grabbed her wrist.

 
“Dixie. Let’s take a minute, okay? I know this is a shock. Do you need to sit down?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’m not ready to go back to my room yet,” I said, knowing she’d take my request more seriously if I pretended it was only for my benefit. “Let’s go sit outside for a few minutes and regroup. Okay?”

  She nodded and pushed the button. The elevator door opened a few seconds later, and Dixie pushed my chair inside. When we got out on the first floor, she wheeled me outside and parked me by a park bench next to a small flower garden. The sun had set, so it was dark outside, and I was slightly chilly in my hospital gown, but I breathed in deep lungfuls of air as I tried to clear my head.

  Dixie sat down next to me, leaned forward, and closed her eyes. I reached for her hand and squeezed tight.

  “You said you broke up a month ago?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “Why did you break up?”

  “I don’t know,” she said as a tear rolled down her face. “He never told me why. Just that he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Six months.” She turned her head to look at me. “I didn’t love him. I wasn’t even sure if I liked him at the end. And like I told you, Teddy hated him. He didn’t think Ryker was good enough for me, and he was probably right.” She lifted her shoulder into a slow shrug. “Maybe that’s why I stayed with him. To rebel against Teddy.”

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked.

  She was quiet for a moment. “Not like you think. He never hit me or anything. He just wasn’t very nice.”

  “Then why’d you stay? Surely not to piss off Teddy.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Dixie, I know you’re upset, and I hate to bring this up, but did Ryker know Otto?”

  She gave me a wry smile. “Everyone knew Otto. But if you’re asking if Ryker and Otto talked or hung out? That’s a definite no. Ryker thought he was gross.”

  “I can’t help thinking their deaths are related. I just can’t figure out how.” My head was killing me, and I was so tired I could fall asleep in my chair, but I didn’t want to go back to my room. Truth be told, I was creeped out at the thought of Dixie leaving me here alone.

  “I need to tell Luke or Cale that I saw Mayor Sterling and Ryker together behind the café, but I can’t do that until they release his name.”