Little Broken Things

by Cheryl Bradshaw

“Her friends, I guess.”

  “How well do you know them?”

  “Not a lot. Olivia, ahh … didn’t hang around with them as much after we met. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. We spent so much time together, she didn’t have much of it for anyone else.”

  “Did you meet any of her friends or hang out with them?”

  “A few times when we first started dating. They had a lot of opinions about us.”

  “Opinions like …”

  “Before I met Olivia, she’d planned to do a road trip with her friend Abigail for a year. They wanted to hit every state in the US. Then they were going to rent an apartment together and go to college. When I came along, those plans changed. Olivia backed out of the trip, and, well, Abigail was super pissed.”

  I didn’t blame Abigail.

  I would have been pissed too.

  “What’s Abigail’s last name?”

  “Nichols. She does nails over at Remedy Nail Bar.”

  “Any other friends I should talk to aside from Abigail?” I asked.

  “Maybe Roxie? Not sure about her last name. Abigail will know.”

  I decided I’d questioned him enough for one day and to circle back later. I stood, thanking him and his mother for taking the time to talk with me.

  They walked me to the door.

  “I still can’t believe she’s gone,” Delores said.

  “Tell me about it,” Casper said with a shake to the head. “I woke up this morning and grabbed my cell phone to send her a text just like I do every morning. It took me a minute to realize I couldn’t text her because she’s gone. She’s gone, and I’ll never get her back.”

  Chapter 5

  I found Silas mid-autopsy, dressed in a surgical gown and humming along to the sound of smooth jazz playing in the background.

  “You’re playing my kind of music,” I said.

  He glanced at me and smiled. “I’m, ahh … well, I thought I’d try something new.”

  “What inspired the change, or maybe I should ask who inspired it?”

  “All right, I’ll admit it. I’m dating someone new. She turned me on to this guy I’m listening to … Bill something or other.”

  “Evans. Must be serious. You’ve never listened to anything other than big-hair bands in all the years I’ve known you.”

  “I suppose we all have the ability to change,” he said. “Even you.”

  Speaking of changes …

  I considered saying something about my personal life, then changed my mind. “I, ahh … so how’s the autopsy going?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you meant to say something else just now?”

  Silas had tried several times over the years to get to know me on a personal level, but I didn’t overshare often. Today, I felt different, like I needed to get out what I had been keeping in.

  “Giovanni just bought a house here, and he’s asked me to move in with him,” I blurted.

  Silas narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a moment, saying nothing.

  “What?” I asked. “Why are you giving me the side-eye?”

  “I feel privileged. It’s not often you talk to me about your private life.”

  “I share things with you.”

  “Oh yeah? When was the last time?”

  He had a point.

  I couldn’t recall.

  “There aren’t a lot of people I can talk to about Giovanni—at least no one who will be objective. My family loves him, and I don’t blame them. He’s wonderful. You don’t live with anyone, and you’re happy having your own place, right?”

  Silas removed his protective face shield, set it on the table, crossed his arms, and shook his head at me. “Oh, I see. You told me because you think since I’ve never asked anyone to move in, I’d tell you not to do it.”

  “It is what you’d tell me, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He bit down on his lip, and I got the impression I’d irritated him, which shocked me. He was one of the most easygoing people I knew.

  “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry, Silas. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  I had a habit of blabbing out thoughts before thinking them through first, a trait I wasn’t proud of and had been working on, even though it still seemed I was in the baby stage of the ‘mastering your mouth’ process.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal, all right?” he said. “Sometimes I think everyone assumes I don’t want to be in a committed relationship. It’s not true. Dating around is fun sometimes. It’s also tiring. Over the past few months, I’ve realized how much it sucks to sit at home without anyone to talk to about my day, or my life, or their life.”

  “I know what you mean. When Giovanni travels back to New York, I find myself counting the days until he’s back—something I’ve never done with anyone before.”

  “I came in from surfing the other night and caught myself watching a couple stroll along the beach. They seemed so happy. Maybe they were or maybe they just appeared that way. The point is, I stood there, jealous of the relationship they appeared to have with each other.”

  I’d always seen Silas as a playboy, a man jumping from one date to the next whenever his newest flame mentioned the “R” word: Relationship.

  Something had changed.

  He had changed.

  “Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Do you love Giovanni?”

  Do I love him?

  Yes, I do.

  “I think I’ve loved him ever since we were in college together,” I said. “Back then, we were friends, and I wasn’t aware of how strong my feelings were for him. By the time I figured it out, he’d decided to marry the woman he was dating. I never thought we’d get a second chance to be together.”

  He leaned toward me, patting me on the shoulder. “Seems to me you have your answer.”

  The lab door swung open, and Harvey walked in. “Hey guys. How’s the autopsy going? Any news?”

  Silas and I exchanged glances, and he smiled, indicating we’d put a cap on our relationship conversation for now.

  “For starters, I didn’t find any prints on the pipe that was next to the victim’s body,” Silas said.

  No surprise there.

  It would take a special kind of idiot to leave the murder weapon in plain sight along with his or her fingerprints. And since Olivia’s murder had occurred in a bookstore, a place hundreds of customers had frequented in recent months, processing such a high volume of latent prints was a chore pushed to the backburner while Silas focused on more important things.

  “There was a significant amount of blood at the scene, including a fair amount on the dress the victim was wearing,” Silas said. “It will take some time to process everything, but I’ll get there.”

  “What about defensive wounds?” I asked. “Did she try to fight off her attacker?”

  “It doesn’t look like it. She has two areas of blunt-force trauma. One on the top of her head, and a second on the side. And the medium-velocity spatter, which we see in victims where a significant amount of force is used, is consistent with the victim being struck by the pipe we found at the scene.”

  “Any signs of a sexual assault?” Harvey asked.

  Silas shook his head. “Rape exam came back negative.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  Harvey turned toward me. “Whatcha thinking so far?”

  “The same thing I’ve been thinking since last night. If the motive wasn’t robbery, and it wasn’t rape, I believe it was personal.”

  Chapter 6

  I arrived at Barb Spencer’s house and found Aunt Laura sitting outside on a balcony upstairs, along with a few other people. The home Olivia had grown up in was a darling, two-story farmhouse, with blue siding and framed white windows. Aunt Laura saw me drive up and came out to greet me.

  “How’s Barb doing today?” I asked.

  “Not well.”

  “Who else is here with her?”

  Aunt Laura raised a finger and pointed at the tall, slender man to Barb�
�s left. He had tanned skin, a pointy nose, and was wearing a flat cap and a short-sleeved, button-up shirt tucked into khaki shorts. “Chad is Barb’s husband. The other two are Chelsea and Stuart Nelson, Olivia’s aunt and uncle. Chelsea is Barb’s sister. The four of them went to school together, and they’re all close. Chelsea and Stuart live a few blocks away, next to the new car wash that just went in.”

  I knew the one.

  It was red and yellow and flashy in a gaudy “Look at me! Look at me!” kind of way.

  “Do you think Barb and Chad are up for a few questions?” I asked.

  “Anything other than small talk and Barb bursts into tears, but you can try. How’s your day going? Any leads yet?”

  “I talked to Casper and his mother this morning. I didn’t learn much, but he gave me the names of a couple of Olivia’s good friends. I know you were her godmother, but how close were the two of you?”

  “Close enough. We saw each other once or twice a week, most weeks. She was a kind girl. She always threw her arms around me and gave me a hug when she saw me. She was a bit on the reserved side, though.”

  “How reserved?”

  “She’d asked me a zillion questions about my life when we chatted but say little in return when I asked about hers.”

  “Did she ever seem unhappy or depressed?”

  “If she was, it would have been hard to tell. She was a pleaser, the kind of girl who’d eat an entire plate of food she didn’t like so her mother felt good about what she’d made. I tried connecting with Olivia on a deeper level over the years, but it was hard …” she patted me on the shoulder and laughed, “even harder than trying to connect with you.”

  First Silas, and now Aunt Laura.

  Maybe I did keep too much of my personal life private.

  “We talk, don’t we?” I asked.

  “A lot more now, yes,” she said. “You’ve come a long way in the last two years.”

  Not wanting to dwell on my shortcomings, I pushed the conversation back in Olivia’s direction. “Are you aware of any hardships Olivia was dealing with in her life?”

  “Nothing specific, no, but …”

  She paused, tapping a finger to her lips.

  I waited, knowing there was something more Aunt Laura needed to say.

  She glanced up at Olivia’s family like she wanted to be sure they were well out of earshot before she spoke. “Olivia once admitted to me that there was a lot more to her than anyone knew. When she said it, I got the impression she was ashamed about something, but she wouldn’t say anything more.”

  Shame came in many forms, expressed itself in many ways.

  A feeling of disgrace.

  Pain and humiliation.

  A grave mistake.

  Thinking back to what Casper had said earlier, I wondered if anyone ever knew the real Olivia.

  “What was Olivia’s relationship like with her parents?” I asked.

  “Great. I mean, the rushed wedding had everyone a bit rattled, but Barb and Chad still respected her decision and supported her, despite their feelings.”

  It was as if she’d channeled Barb when she mentioned her name. Barb bent over her chair, looking down at us like she was curious about the conversation we’d been having. I made eye contact, and she waved.

  Time for the tête-à-tête with Aunt Laura to be over.

  We headed upstairs, joining those sitting on the balcony.

  “Everyone,” Aunt Laura said, “this is my niece, Detective Georgiana Germaine.”

  Stuart leaned forward and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  We shook, and he relaxed back in the chair, interlacing his fingers over his sizable belly. Chelsea, his wife, forced a smile, and said nothing.

  “How long have you been a detective?” Chad asked.

  “Long enough to know what I’m doing,” I said.

  “Good. What are the odds you’ll catch the scumbag who killed my daughter?”

  Blunt and to the point.

  I liked it.

  Barb, on the other hand, did not.

  “She’s a fine detective,” Barb said. “According to Laura, Georgiana has caught every bad guy she’s ever gone after.”

  Or girl, in some instances.

  Chad raised a brow and looked at me for confirmation.

  “Let me put it this way,” I said, “I won’t stop investigating your daughter’s case until it’s solved.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Chad said. “We need a pit bull on this, not a poodle.”

  Nothing like a little sexist undertone to rev up my day.

  “How many pit bulls have you known?” I asked.

  “What?”

  I repeated the question.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “They’re a misunderstood dog breed.”

  “Misunderstood how?”

  “Most aren’t as aggressive as people think. In most cases, a dog is as good as the owner who trains him, or her.”

  Chad shook his head. “You’re missing the point.”

  “I don’t believe I am,” I said. “You want a detective who’s been well trained. Someone who’s willing to do whatever it takes. You got her.”

  He eyed me like he still wasn’t sure I was the right one to investigate his daughter’s murder. “I hope you’re right. Last thing we need is someone sitting on the sidelines telling us they’re following leads when they haven’t done diddly squat.”

  “Chad, stop it!” Barb frowned at him and then turned toward me. “I hope you’ll forgive his rudeness, Georgiana. It’s not like him to come across as harsh as he is now. It’s just hard, for all of us, with Olivia being—”

  “Don’t apologize for me,” Chad said. “I have every right to feel the way I do. I expect results right away, not ten years from now.”

  Chad sprung out of his chair to a standing position, grabbed a can of Bud Light off the table, and bolted inside the house without saying another word. Barb started to cry. Furious, Aunt Laura went after Chad, no doubt to reprimand him for his behavior—behavior I thought was warranted given the circumstances.

  He wasn’t mad at me.

  He was mad at everyone.

  Chelsea reached over and grabbed Barb’s hand.

  Stuart wiped a few tears from his eyes and looked at me. “Chad’s a great guy. He’s just suffering right now.”

  “I understand.” I knelt in front of Barb, looked her in the eye, and said, “I will find the person responsible for your daughter’s death.”

  She sniffled a few times and said, “I know, honey. I have every bit of faith in you. I’m sure Chad does too, deep down.”

  “I was hoping to take a look at Olivia’s room while I’m here.”

  “Of course,” Barb said. “I’ll take you.”

  Stuart rose from his chair. “You stay here and relax, Barb. I’ll take her, all right?”

  Barb reached out and squeezed his hand, thanking him.

  I followed Stuart inside the house, stopping in the hallway where Chad and Aunt Laura were talking. Chad caught my eye, sighed, and muttered, “I, uhh, you know, apologize for being a total jerk before.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ve said far harsher things to people in my life than you did just now.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have. You’re doing your best. You don’t deserve it.”

  Aunt Laura crossed her arms and grinned at me, pleased with herself—taking all the credit for Chad’s abrupt change of heart.

  “The detective would like to take a look at Olivia’s room,” Stuart said.

  “Sure, sure,” Chad said. “If you need to take anything, evidence and what not, would you mind letting us know first?”

  I agreed, and Stuart and I continued down the hall, stopping at the third door on the right. Stuart twisted the knob and pushed the door open, and I stepped inside. Olivia’s room was decorated in bright shades of yellow and orange. The comforter on her bed had a large sunflower in the center.
Twinkle lights adorned the top of the railing on the metal bed frame, and above it, several framed floral watercolor paintings were lined up next to each other on the wall. I walked over to get a closer look and noticed the paintings all had Olivia’s signature on the bottom.

  “She was an artist,” I said, “and a good one by the looks of it.”

  When Stuart didn’t respond, I glanced in his direction. He looked past me, eyes brimming with tears as he focused on the artwork I’d just pointed out. He stared at it a moment and then turned, disappearing down the hallway.

  Chapter 7

  Alone at last, my attention shifted to a large corkboard on the wall opposite the bed. It was brimming with photos, most of Olivia and Casper and their adventures together. Sure, they were young, maybe too young to get married, but looking at the photos, there was no mistaking the love they had for each other.

  I snapped a photo of the board and stood in front of the bedroom window, glancing up at Olivia’s parents who had reunited on the balcony. They were holding hands, which was nice to see. How many times had Olivia stared out this same window? And what did she see when she did?

  I crossed the room and slid the closet door open, my eyes coming to rest on a gorgeous wedding gown—a gown she’d never wear. It had a fitted bodice and a ruffled mermaid skirt. I imagined she had looked stunning in it.

  Aunt Laura entered the room. “How’s it going in here?”

  “Fine, I guess. Just looking at everything, trying to get an idea of Olivia’s life and who she was when she was alive. How’s Stuart? He got emotional a few minutes ago and took off.”

  “Everyone grieves in their own way, I suppose. Stuart was a big part of Olivia’s life since the day she was born. Barb went into labor early. Chad was a couple of hours away at the time, so Stuart and Chelsea drove Barb to the hospital. They almost didn’t make it there before Olivia decided to make her grand appearance.”

  My attention was drawn to a pink, metal box on the floor of the closet. I bent down for closer inspection. “It looks like Olivia had a safe.”

  Aunt Laura shuffled over to see for herself.

  “Any idea what the combination would be?” I asked.