1 Death Warmed Over

by Kent Holloway

“Out of the way?” asked Silas.

  She nodded but refused to look them in the eyes.

  “If you were as close as you say, did she tell you of any problems she was having with anyone in her life?” Becca asked.

  Still averting her eyes from them, she thought about it for a moment. “Mmmm, I can’t think of anyone. Most people really liked her and…oh.”

  “What? Did you think of someone?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But…”

  “Mrs. Shepherd, if you know someone, now’s the time to share.”

  “Well, it’s odd. For the most part, she gets along with him. Considering they haven’t been together in five years, they had a pretty great friendship. Ya know…for exes.”

  “Are you talking about the father of her child?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “What was their relationship like?”

  “Well, he has full custody of little Jamie. She only had supervised visitation rights. And it had to be at the ex’s place, never at hers. But they made it work. They were closer than most people would be in their situation.”

  “But Andrea started having problems with him recently?”

  She shrugged. “Not so much with him. Like I said, they got along great. But his girlfriend? Now that’s another story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, this girl—I think she was Jamie’s nanny or nurse or something—Andrea used to joke that she was just a glorified cook for the kid—she just kind of swooped in and snatched James up right after Andrea and James split.” Elaine sighed. “It was pretty sad. Almost ended their friendship.”

  “But it didn’t?”

  “Not so much. Andrea decided she wouldn’t let the girl ruin a good thing with James. They still remained friends, for little Jamie’s sake, more than anything else. But Andrea always felt a little betrayed about how James had let that woman drive a wedge between them like that. Especially so soon after the breakup. She always wondered if they weren’t already seeing each other before, ya know?”

  “You said Andrea joked about this woman being a glorified cook. But she’s a nurse? What do you mean by that?” Silas asked.

  Elaine shrugged. “Oh, she’s a nurse and a nanny, I suppose. Certified and everything. But I think she spent most of her time just cooking for little Jamie. She’s apparently crazy about cooking for him. Won’t let anyone else do it.”

  Silas scratched his head. “Huh? Why’s that?”

  “Well, the kid’s got autism. Really bad from what I hear and he has a lot of emotional issues—Andrea always blamed herself for that, I think. Anyway, only certain medications seemed to do any good with his mood swings, but from what Andrea said, they’re pretty serious meds. He has to be very careful what he eats. Poor thing can’t eat chocolate. Can you imagine? Or anything fermented like cheese slices or yogurt. Things kids love. I think this nurse spent more of her time planning Jamie’s daily meals than actually taking care of the kid, if you could believe Andrea’s stories.”

  “Do you know this woman’s name?” Becca asked.

  “She never told me. Just always called her las puta…the whore,” Elaine responded.

  “And the ex?”

  “James Andrews. A decent guy, really, though he’s had a pretty rough life. In and out of prison for most of his youth.”

  “And the courts gave him custody of their son?” Silas asked.

  “Well, he’d really turned his life around. Started a used car business down in Daytona and is doing pretty well.”

  “That wouldn’t happen to be the same car dealership your art department is doing a project for is it?” Silas asked.

  “Actually, it is. Andrea’s the one who convinced him to use us actually.” Elaine wiped her nose with a tissue. “She was so proud of the man James had become. So proud of his business and the success he had with it. That’s why she volunteered to give him Jamie. She said her son deserved a better life than she could provide, so she let James keep the boy.”

  “But she had to be doing pretty well here, right?” Silas continued with his questioning. “I mean, this place…looks like you all are doing well.”

  “We are. Very well. But I don’t think it was about the money with Andrea.” She leaned forward, conspiratorially. “I think it had to do with her issues.”

  “Issues?”

  “Oh, I hate to speak ill of her…especially now that she’s gone.”

  “Just tell us what you know, Mrs. Shepherd. You tried to have her cursed to death. Now isn’t the time for mock sympathy.” Silas was losing his patience with the woman.

  The art director gasped at his outburst but managed to compose herself enough to answer. “It was a matter of some embarrassment for her.” She was now looking directly at Becca, as if Silas no longer existed in her world. “She had…um, mental issues.”

  “We’re aware of her mental illness.” Becca thought it was time to take back the interview before Silas’ temper ruined it. “But for the record, just so we cover all the bases, could you highlight them for us?”

  “Sure.” She nodded. “Extreme anxiety, for starters. She’d had it ever since she was a kid. On top of that, she suffered from bipolar disorder, depression, and a very mild form of schizophrenia.”

  Pretty much lines up with what Ceci told us, Becca thought.

  “Tell me something,” she said. “Andrea recently started a new kind of therapy a few months back for her mental illness that seemed to be working well for her for a while. Did you know about that?”

  Elaine nodded her head. “Yes. She was so excited about it actually.”

  “So, before she started on this program, did Andrea ever have any hallucinations associated with her schizophrenia?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Like I said, it was a mild case. Maybe sporadic auditory hallucinations from time to time, but nothing like what she’d been experiencing lately.”

  “Anything introduced in her life that might have triggered them so suddenly?”

  “Besides curses of death, she means,” Silas added. He really didn’t like this woman.

  “Look, Mr. Mot, you don’t really believe a curse can kill someone, do you?”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “But you obviously did. Or else you wouldn’t have paid to have a working done on her.”

  “Of course, I didn’t believe it.” Her face was reddening. They were losing their witness. “But I knew Andrea did. I just figured having her Babalowa curse her would get in her head. I was just hoping it would affect her work a little. That’s all.”

  “Exactly. She believed in it. And it might have driven her mad with fear.”

  “Look,” Elaine said, her face growing from red to purple. “I already told you. I never actually got that Babalowa to perform the curse. I don’t know where the rumor even got started that a curse was placed on her, but I had nothing to do with it!”

  “Enough!” Becca shouted. “Both of you.” But she was glaring at Silas. “Let’s get back to the real investigation here.” She turned to face Elaine. “Back to this James Andrews…any idea where he lives?”

  Elaine’s face returned to her normal color and she started pilfering through the top desk drawer. “Andrea had it on a Rolodex card she kept in here. In case of emergencies. Just a second.” It took a little longer than a second. The drawer was nearly overflowing with candy wrappers, rubber bands, and Post-It notes. It was a wonder the woman could find anything at all in there. “Ah! Here it is.”

  She pulled out a bent Rolodex card and handed it to Becca. The writing on it was in pencil and faded, but she could just make out the address.

  “You said he had a car dealership in Daytona, but this says he lives in Hammock Dunes. How up to date is this?”

  “As far as I know, he hasn’t moved. Andrea said he just commutes. It’s only about thirty minutes north of Daytona, after all.”

  Becca stuffed the card into her notepad. “Thank you, Mrs. Shepherd. We’ll look into your alibi and if it check
s out, you won’t hear from us again.” She paused. “Unless, of course, we have any more questions about Andrea.”

  The graphic artist smiled, then glared at Silas. “You won’t bring him with you next time, will you?”

  Becca laughed. “That’s becoming a standard request, I’m afraid. But you have my word. If we need to talk again, I’ll make him sit in the car.”

  With that, they left Tate & Neely and headed back to Summer Haven.

  21

  SAND DOLLAR MOTEL

  THURSDAY, 12:34 PM

  “What are we doing here, Mot?” Becca asked as she pulled into the closest space near Silas’ motel room. “We don’t have time for this.”

  He slipped from the car and leaned in through the passenger window before holding up a finger. “This will only take a minute or two. Just wait here and I’ll be back in a flash. Promise.”

  He trotted up the sidewalk to his door, glanced over his shoulder to ensure the police chief wasn’t following him, then removed the DO NOT DISTURB sign from the handle and let himself into his room.

  The body of Elliot Newman still lay on the bed in which he’d left him, now clothed in a gaudy red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cargo shorts he’d picked up from the local Goodwill store.

  “How are we doing this morning?” Silas asked, moving up to the side of the bed and lifting the man’s arm to take his pulse. It was faint, but present—which was infinitely better than what could have been said for him before his visit to the funeral home last night.

  Elliot’s eyes shifted, moving unfocused in Silas’ direction. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but soon gave up.

  “Easy. Easy,” Silas said, patting the man’s hand before laying it back on the bed. “Don’t try to recover too soon. Your body is still breaking down the embalming fluid flowing through your veins. Your muscles and skin are still far too rigid for much movement, but you’re getting there. Slowly, but surely.”

  Elliot let out a pitiful groan.

  “Oh, I know. It’s frustrating. I know. But you’re not in any pain, are you?”

  The man’s head moved slightly to the left.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

  Silas laughed. Not at the sad condition the previously dead man was currently in, but in the brilliance of his plan to begin with. He wished he’d thought of it sooner. There was no doubt that a man with Elliot Newman’s knowledge would help lead him to the Hand of Cain far faster than he ever could on his own. He was now going to be approaching this problem from two fronts—first, the investigation into whatever strange deaths happened upon the citizens of Summer Haven, and second, from an archaeological angle. Whoever has the Hand of Cain would have had to use some tangible method for recovering it and Elliot was the perfect person to track that method down.

  “All right, my friend. I need to leave you again. But only for a little while.” He reached for the TV remote and turned the flatscreen on, which happened to be tuned into the Cartoon Network. “I’ll just leave this on for you so you won’t become unbearably bored.” Silas glanced at the screen to see an Animaniacs marathon showing on the network. “Oh, one of my favorites! I believe you’ll find this to your liking. Who doesn’t get tickled by the Warner Brothers’ antics?”

  Elliot’s eyes moved from the television to Silas without any visible reaction.

  “Ah! A man of excellent taste, I think. Good.”

  Silas patted the man on the shoulder, then walked out of his room, placed the DO NOT DISTURB sign back on the knob, and returned to Becca’s waiting car.

  22

  ANDREWS DREAM CAR AUTOMOTIVE

  DAYTONA BEACH, FLORIDA

  THURSDAY, 1:27 PM

  The drive down I-95 was surprisingly fast. Traffic, once they left the St. Johns County line, was light and flowed easily enough for Becca to pull off onto International Speedway Boulevard in record time. As an added bonus, Silas had been uncharacteristically silent during the drive and had opted, instead, to watch the cars drive by with childlike wonder.

  A rustling of plastic in the passenger seat jarred her from her thoughts.

  Okay. So, I spoke too soon, she thought, turning her head to see Silas ripping open a brand-new bag of Twizzlers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Snack time.” He pulled a strip from the block of red licorice, bit down on one end of it, and ripped a piece from the stick.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “In the Circle K. When you were getting gas.” He held up a plastic bag filled with an assortment of candies, gum, and other treats of the confectionary variety.

  “You know, you’re going to need to start looking out for cavities if you keep going this way.”

  “Have no fear, Chief. These teeth are spectacular.” He grinned at her and her heart thumped against her chest at the sight.

  You can say that again. “You also need to be concerned with diabetes.”

  He shrugged, offering her the bag. “Want one?”

  “No, thank you.” She finally decided to ask the question that had been on her mind since leaving the Sand Dollar Motel. “So, what’s this ‘experiment’ you’re working on, anyway?”

  Silas bit off both ends of the Twizzler and chewed for a moment. “That’d ruin the surprise if I told you.”

  “I’m a cop. I don’t really care for surprises.”

  He waved her off. “Don’t worry. I’ll be happy to show you when it’s all ready. As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to it. For now, I just ask that you trust me.”

  She cringed. That was a request that was far easier said than done when it came to Silas Mot, but for the moment, she figured she had very little choice in the matter. Short of forcing her way into his motel room, she knew she could do nothing but wait on him for when the time was right. For now, all she could do was concentrate on the drive to James Andrews’ car dealership and hope for the best.

  “So, how do we know Mr. Andrews is at work right now?” Silas asked, pulling another piece of licorice off with his teeth.

  “We don’t. But at this time of day, I don’t think he’ll be home. Not if he’s the savvy businessman Elaine made him out to be. And I didn’t want to call ahead to check either. It’d put him on the alert to our visit. Give him too much time to either come up with pat answers to our questions or just make a run for it if he’s our killer.”

  She made a right on South Palmetto Avenue, drove another three blocks, and pulled up to the curb in front of the dealership.

  “And you think he’s a good possibility? Shepherd seemed to think they had a decent relationship.”

  Becca put the car in park and turned off the ignition. “Everyone’s a good possibility in this case. I know you like Spenser Blakely for it, but the truth is, I haven’t ruled out a single suspect yet.” She got out of the car. Silas did the same and they began making their way toward the dealership’s big white office and showroom. “And statistically, husbands, boyfriends, and exes are usually the culprit, so yeah. He’s a good possibility.”

  They stepped into the cool air-conditioned showroom and looked around for someone to help them find Andrews. Probably half-dozen customers milled around, kicking tires and checking out the price stickers in the window. Despite the crowd, they didn’t have to wait long. Three seconds after entering the building, they were approached by a smiling man with a thick head of golden hair and a pastel green Polo shirt with the name ‘Stu’ stitched on the left chest. Above it was a stylized logo of a car with the words ‘Andrews Dream Car Automotive’.

  “Welcome, welcome!” the man, presumably named Stu, said, taking Becca by the hand and giving it a good shake. “Welcome to Andrews Dream Cars, where we’re always excited to put you in the car of your dreams. My name is Stu, and you can just think of me as your very own Dream Counselor.” He chuckled at his own goofy sales pitch, then looked Becca up and down. “We do offer fantastic discounts for our protectors in blue, I might add.”

  “Thank y
ou, Stu.” Becca had to practically pry her hand away from his. “But we’re not here to buy today.”

  For a moment, his face looked crestfallen, then he took a breath and smiled. “Nonsense. We have the best selection of pre-owned cars on the First Coast. You might not think you’re ready to purchase the car of your dreams, but she’s out there somewhere.” He waved his hand toward the lot outside. “Just waiting for you to find her. Give me just a few minutes of your time to introduce you to her. You won’t be sorry.”

  “Trust me, Stu,” Silas said with the only grin in the world larger than Stu’s. “The only dream she has at the moment is the one where she catches a ruthless killer.”

  “Huh?” Stu’s mouth went slack. “What?”

  “I’m here to speak with James Andrews,” she said. “Can you point us in his direction?”

  Stu glanced around the showroom. “Oh, well, let’s see…” He stood up on his tiptoes, making a show of searching for his boss. “I don’t actually…um…nope, I don’t see him.” He looked back at Becca. “I don’t think he’s here at the moment.”

  “Oh, Stu,” Silas said, clapping him on the back with a laugh. “You really are a delight. Come, Becca. Stu showed us exactly where his boss is.”

  “Wait. I did?”

  But the two were already walking away toward the back of the room.

  “He did?” Becca whispered the question. “How?”

  He chuckled and pointed to an office in the back with one-way mirrored glass. “It was the one spot in which Stu didn’t look. Obviously, it’s where his employer—the person who signs his paychecks, mind you—is.”

  She rolled her eyes at this. “Yeah, right. Or you’re going to be so embarrassed when you find out it’s the facility’s bathroom.”

  She knew, of course, that it wasn’t. The glass should have been a dead giveaway.

  They strode up to the door and knocked.

  “Just a second,” came a voice from inside.

  “James Andrews? This is Chief Becca Cole from the Summer Haven Police Department. We’re here to ask you a few questions about Andrea Alvarez.”