Sprinkles of Suspicion

by Kim Davis

  The key slid the lock open silently, but the door made an unearthly squeal when I pushed it open. I startled then stumbled into the house when a car came down the street. I didn’t need anyone seeing me sneaking in.

  The worn shag carpeting muffled my footsteps, and I could barely make out the shape of her glass coffee table, dimly illuminated by the microwave light in the kitchen. I still nearly cracked my knee against the table since it stood at an odd angle from the sofa. Perhaps it had gotten shoved to the side when… I tried to think of something like pixies and fairies so I could ignore the images of Philip with Tori. It didn’t work, and I’d never be able to forget that memory. Ever.

  I made my way to the left hallway, toward Tori’s bedroom. She usually kept her laptop hooked up to a larger monitor in her room. Tori needed glasses to view the small laptop screen, but being too vain to wear them, she’d resorted to an auxiliary monitor instead. I prayed she had left my Facebook page open so I could get out of there without being caught.

  Her bedroom door was shut, and I almost ran headlong into it. I mentally smacked myself for not bringing in my cell phone. The flashlight app would have been handy right now, since I didn’t want to risk turning the house lights on. I turned the doorknob as slowly as possible and inched the door open. I held my breath and listened for a full minute but heard nothing except Tori’s kitchen clock. Tick tock, tick tock. Until now, I hadn’t realized it made such a loud noise. Stoner Dudes’ music came back on with a faint thump, thump. It sounded like rap. I shook my head. First Jimi Hendrix, now Snoop Dogg.

  I pushed the door farther open, took one step in, and then spent another minute holding my breath and listening. My eyes were still blind inside the pitch-black room, and I couldn’t determine whether Tori was in bed or not. I took another two steps into the room and my nose wrinkled involuntarily. Something metallic and funky stifled the air. Tori wasn’t the best housekeeper, but I’d never smelled this in her house before. Not hearing any other sounds, aside from my pounding heart, I tiptoed toward the desk I knew sat beneath the window. Tori hated any light coming in through her window when she wanted to sleep in, so she’d covered it with foil, topped that with duct tape, and finished with a black satin roman shade that hid the ugly mess.

  Feeling a bit more confident that no one else was here, I took three quick steps and immediately tripped over something, pitching face first. Luckily, the top half of my body caught the edge of her king-sized bed, but then the satin comforter dumped me to the floor. My hip bone landed first with a thud, and I envisioned the large purple bruise that would show up tomorrow morning. Gravity made sure the rest of my body followed suit.

  “Oomph.” The noise escaped my mouth when my ribs landed on something hard, yet it gave a little with my weight.

  I rolled onto my side. As I pushed to my knees, my hands touched an arm. A stone-cold human arm.

  Chapter 4

  Shivering uncontrollably, I crab walked backward then fumbled for the light switch by the bedroom door. Bright light flooded the room, and I squinted against the glare. I couldn’t control the screams that erupted from my mouth when I saw Tori lying on the floor, with a trickle of blood oozing from her chest and pooled beneath her body. My shrieks echoed in the room, but I couldn’t stop them.

  The room twirled, and dark spots danced in front of my vision. Afraid of passing out, I slumped down on my hands and knees and angled my head toward the floor. I gagged when I saw the sticky red fluid covering my hands, but at least that stopped the earsplitting noises coming from my mouth.

  In a panic, I crawled out of the room, leaving handprints in my wake. I needed to call someone; I needed to get out of there. I switched lights on, found Tori’s phone on the coffee table, and dialed 9-1-1 with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. I waited for a dispatcher to answer.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  “There’s a body. Tori’s been, been….” I couldn’t finish my sentence. My teeth chattered together, and I wondered if the dispatcher would consider this a crank call.

  “Ma’am? Do you need an ambulance?”

  “Yes, yes, send an ambulance.” I closed my eyes, knowing an ambulance wouldn’t help.

  “What’s your address, ma’am?”

  “Um, um. It’s a friend’s house. Pine Street in Costa Mesa.” The phone almost dropped because I had no idea how to control the shaking going on in my hands and knees. “I can’t remember the street number, but there’s a Honda Accord and Mini Cooper in the driveway.”

  “What’s the nature of the injuries?”

  “Um, she’s been….” I gulped air. “I think someone stabbed her. I think Tori is dead!”

  My knees finally gave out, and I collapsed onto Tori’s sofa, the same sofa where she’d been with my husband just hours before. I didn’t want to sit there. I sprang back up and paced.

  “Ma’am, ma’am, are you still there?”

  “Yes, sorry, I’m here.”

  “Do you want me to stay on the line with you until the police arrive?”

  Police? Oh no. I needed to call Philip. He was going to kill me.

  “No. I’ll wait outside for them to show up.”

  As soon as the emergency dispatcher disconnected, I called Philip’s cell phone.

  “Babe, I told you not to call me.” Philip’s low voice filled the phone. “It’s over. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it. How did he know it was me? I was using Tori’s phone. Could there have been trouble in paradise and he had broken up with Tori?

  “Philip, it’s Emory.” It would have been easier to get mad and yell at him than to envision the body in the next room. On the other hand, I understood that I probably shouldn’t piss him off because, as my shock wore off, I realized I needed his help. With Tori’s blood all over me, I knew the authorities would suspect me.

  “Why are you on Tori’s phone?” I pictured his thick black eyebrows pulled into a V-shape.

  “Philip, you need to come over right now.” My voice quivered, and tears leaked from my eyes. “Something terrible’s happened to Tori, and I need your help.”

  “What are you talking about? What happened?” His cop voice took over—in charge, in command of his wife, who sounded on the verge of falling apart.

  “There’s blood all over her chest, but I swear I didn’t do it.” My voice turned into a wail. “I need you.”

  The piercing scream of sirens came down the street, and flashing red and blue lights pulsated through the living room windows.

  “The ambulance and police are here. Just come. Please?”

  Philip’s own siren screeched to life. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  The cacophony of police, ambulance, and paramedic sirens split the air. Strobes of red and blue lights oscillating in the darkness overwhelmed me as I stepped outside and made my way to the sidewalk. The sudden onslaught of emergency personnel carried me in their wake, back into the house, and I found myself once again sitting on Tori’s sofa.

  “Miss, where are you hurt?” A young mustached man in a white uniform squatted in front of me, studying my face. He shivered when his eyes strayed to the blood covering my hands and clothes.

  My sour mouth dried up, and I pointed toward the bedroom. “It’s not me. It’s Tori.”

  A police officer, one I vaguely remembered being introduced to at some long-ago Christmas party, replaced the white uniform. “Can you tell me what happened, ma’am?”

  “I don’t know. Tori was just lying there.” My sticky red hands caught my attention, and I grimaced. “I tripped and fell on top of her arm. I didn’t know she was….”

  “What’s your name?” He had inched away from me. “What’s your relationship to the deceased?”

  “Philip!” I jumped up from the sofa and rushed to him, my arms held wide. “I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  He frowned but didn’t push my hug away, so I rested my head on his chest. I clasped
my hands behind his back and held on tight. Hoping I’d wake up to find this was only a nightmare, I wanted to be wrapped in his arms and embraced. Except, as I hugged him, I felt how soft he’d gotten around the middle. How had I not noticed that before? How long had it been since we’d been this close?

  “Mrs. Martinez? I guess I didn’t recognize you.” The officer scratched his head and looked toward Tori’s room then back at Philip. “Um, I’ll go check on the status of the crime scene techs. You’d better not touch anything else.”

  Philip stepped away from me and examined my bloodstained clothes and hands. “What the heck happened? What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I just found her.” Everyone’s assumption that I had something to do with Tori’s demise terrified me.

  “What are you doing here? You should have left things alone.” His voice, low and angry, buzzed in my ear.

  I realized he didn’t want anyone to hear about his affair with Tori. I stepped away from my husband, afraid. What if he told people I killed Tori? He witnessed my fight with her and heard my threats. Would he blame me?

  I shook my head and tried to settle all the thoughts swirling around in there. Despite what I’d seen this morning, I was having a hard time reconciling her betrayal with the vivacious Tori who, only yesterday, made me laugh when she brought me an early birthday gift in my office. It had tickled me, watching the young statistic-analyst guys in my accounting department pop their heads above their short walls when she entered the room. They reminded me of prairie dogs as she sauntered like a catwalk model, her curvy hips swaying in her tiny, low-cut blue jeans. Her wavy platinum-blonde hair bounced against her shoulders, keeping rhythm with her impressive chest jammed tight into a tiny hot-pink sequined T-shirt. She created a bobblehead effect on the guys watching her. Long after she’d left the room, her signature honeysuckle scent lingered on the air-conditioning-generated breeze, reminding those boys of her presence.

  She captivated everyone who came across her path, and while women might want to envy her, Tori managed to make them friends instead. Including me, despite our differences. Physically, I was the exact opposite of Tori, with my frizzy red hair and short stature. I was chubby, thanks to my sampling the goodies I loved to bake, yet my chest remained flat. My clothes were comfortably conservative, and I wore flat shoes instead of the colorful ensembles and stilettos Tori favored. What mattered was our common interests. We enjoyed the same kinds of music, movies, books, and food. Tori’s devil-may-care attitude about life balanced my overly cautious outlook. Now she was gone. Forever.

  “Officer Martinez, what do you think you’re doing here?” A deep voice, sounding like the owner chewed gravel for breakfast, barked right behind me, and I jumped.

  “Captain Newman. My wife is the one who found the body.” Philip edged a bit farther from me, looked at the floor, then shook his head when he noticed Tori’s blood on his uniform. “I came as soon as she called me.”

  “Captain?” a uniform called from Tori’s room. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “Martinez, I trust I don’t have to tell you not to touch anything.” He nodded toward me. “You either.”

  I looked at my husband, whose chocolate-brown eyes glared at me. “Why did you get me in such a mess, Em? Why couldn’t you have left things alone?”

  “You’re insinuating I did this?” I stamped my foot, my anger getting harder to contain. My voice rose an octave. “You realize you’re the one who started it, you idiot.”

  “Officer and Mrs. Martinez,” the gravelly voice boomed across the room, “there’s something you need to see in here.”

  I didn’t want to go back into Tori’s room, and I really didn’t want to see her body again. Philip must have sensed my reluctance because he placed his hand on my lower back and propelled me down the hallway toward the room of death.

  I told myself not to look at the body, but my eyes betrayed me. Tori looked like she’d been ready to go clubbing. Hiked up, her short leather miniskirt allowed a glimpse of lacy red panties. Black Manolo Blahnik stilettos were strapped to her feet, and her painted toes played peek-a-boo out of them. Perhaps the killer had surprised her while she was getting ready for an evening out—on her upper body, she only wore a plunging lacy red bra that didn’t hide the gash in the top part of her torso.

  “Oh no,” Philip groaned.

  I turned to comfort him, despite his betrayal. I knew it was a shock to see someone you cared about lying with her life snuffed out. But instead of looking at Tori’s body, he fixed his gaze on Tori’s large screen computer monitor.

  There I was, black lace bra and all, with Randall’s lips planted on my neck, in living color.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do, Mrs. Martinez,” barked Captain Frank Newman.

  “It’s Philip and Tori’s fault. If they hadn’t had an affair”—I paused and gulped air—“none of this would have happened.”

  A muffled moan sounded behind me. I turned to find the noise. Officer Amy Doyle stood there, glaring at Philip. Her short, curly brown hair shook back and forth, while her lips pressed tightly together. Her hands, bleached white from gripping her water bottle so tightly, quivered. Moisture glittered in her almost-black eyes. Maybe the lighting made me think it could be tears. I glanced over at Philip, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. His normally olive-toned skin turned pale, drained of color. Amy stomped from the room. Had something been going on between them after all?

  The captain’s barking orders made me turn back toward Tori, and then his rough hands gripped my arm.

  “Emory Martinez, you are under arrest for the murder of Tori Carlton. You have the right to remain silent….”

  Chapter 5

  I stopped listening to the rest of my Miranda Rights. My mind buzzed, trying to make sense of it all. Who had killed Tori, and why was I being set up for it? I allowed myself to be led to the captain’s car and placed gently in the back seat. He retrieved a silver Mylar blanket from the trunk and placed it over my lap, tucking it around my quivering legs.

  “Officer Martinez, I suggest you stay away from this crime scene and take the night off. Be in my office at eight sharp tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” My husband’s voice sounded low and mournful.

  I tried to get Philip’s attention, but he wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to make sure he took care of Piper but couldn’t get the words out. Instead, my husband turned his back on me and walked away. His head hung low, and his feet scuffed the sidewalk while he walked to his patrol car. Amy sat in his passenger seat, her nose buried in a wad of tissues.

  That lying son-of-a-you-know-what would get everything he deserved for cheating on me with not one but two women. At least I hoped he didn’t cheat with more than two women. How could I have been so blind? Captain Newman drove, but all I noticed was how blurry the streetlights were and how quiet the evening had become.

  “Young lady, I didn’t want to arrest you.” He ran a hand through thin graying hair. “What a mess.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Tears stung my eyes. “I didn’t kill her. Please believe me.”

  A heavy sigh came from the front seat. “I know. But you were getting ready to incriminate yourself back there, and I had to get you away before you said anything stupid.”

  “I didn’t mean to, Frank.” My hands shook, so I squeezed them together. “The shock kind of made my mouth run on its own.”

  “I’m not going to lie. This looks bad, and I shouldn’t be helping you. My retirement is in five months, and this might blow up in my face.” Captain Newman cleared his throat, which did nothing to help his rough, gravelly voice. He fumbled with the volume on his scanner. “As soon as we get to the station, call your parents and have Lars get the best lawyer he knows. Say nothing until they show up, and please don’t say a word about my advice. Do I make myself clear, young lady?”

  “Yes, sir.” I shivered.

  Mother was going to kill me, and Lars would be pretty angr
y too. They played golf with Captain Frank Newman and his wife several times a month, and everyone at their country club would find out he had arrested me for murder.

  I had even made his silver wedding anniversary cake four months ago. It was a five-tier chocolate cake with white chocolate and Oreo cookie filling. I had covered four tiers with wedding white fondant and accented the middle tier with lilac-colored fondant billows. It was my first try at making gum paste flowers, and I had to say my pale-pink anemone flowers turned out perfect. I was at the anniversary party serving all one hundred and fifty of his guests, so everyone knew me. To say this might blow up in his face was an understatement.

  Once we reached the police station, Captain Newman had the desk officer take photos of my hands and clothing and then allowed me to visit the ladies’ room to wash up. Three rounds of soap and scorching-hot water later, my hands felt somewhat clean, although what I really needed was a stiff brush to get the rusty-brown gunk out from beneath my fingernails.

  My reflection in the mirror looked as bad as I felt. My hair had partially escaped the ponytail I had pulled it into while working on the party cake and looked frizzier than normal. Dark bags sat beneath my eyes, and the whites of my eyes looked like small red arteries on a road map. I tried to tame my hair with water and secure it in the scrunchie again. That effort didn’t help much. I thought about trying to rinse some of the blood out of my favorite pink T-shirt, which had a cartoony cake silk-screened on the front, but I decided I would never wear this shirt again. It was destined for the trash can if I ever made it back home.