Dead Storm

by Emma Rose Watts

  “Can I help you?”

  “Skylar Reid. Franklin County Sheriff’s Department.” She flashed her shield. “Here to talk to you about your boyfriend Lamar Erickson.”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she said, emphasizing the ex part. Skylar was tempted to crack a joke about that being true now that he was dead but she bit her tongue instead. She could already hear Harvey in her head saying how insensitive that would have been. Of course it would but she had gained a very dark sense of humor from the job. Most cops did after so many years of seeing the underbelly of society.

  “Right,” Skylar replied. “So you’re aware he’s deceased.”

  Her jaw dropped. Skylar’s stomach sank. She now realized the reply was in reference to their relationship, not his life status. She stepped to one side. “You should come in,” Sara replied.

  As Skylar entered, she apologized realizing she’d put her foot in it. Harvey was correct that she wasn’t thinking right. Usually she had more tact. Sara Goodman’s home was beautiful. The kind of home that might have been seen in one of those home décor magazines. Everything looked as if it was staged; the place barely looked lived in. There wasn’t a smidgen of dust and the décor screamed money.

  “Beautiful place you have here.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. She guided her into the living room where high-end white furniture filled out a large rectangular room. There was a dark grand piano at the far end overlooking a gorgeous view of the surrounding landscape. She was used to entering homes where folks were living hand to mouth, and where it smelled musty and of animals. Skylar took a seat on a plush couch with one too many blue striped cushions. The entire home had a beachy, Cape Cod feel to it.

  “How? When?”

  “Yesterday in Carrabelle. Do you mind telling me where you were?”

  “Out of town in Panama City on business.”

  “And what business would that be?”

  “The kind where you mind your own business.”

  Skylar’s eyes widened. Oh, she was a firecracker.

  “I would if someone hadn’t died, someone who was dating you, someone who was in anger management related to you. Now you want to cut me some slack or do I need to take you down to the department? Because I can tell you, it’s not as comfortable as this abode,” she said glancing around.

  She pursed her lips then said, “I’m in the business of selling furniture.”

  Skylar frowned. “Selling? You have a store?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, can you be exact?”

  “Look, are you here to grill me about my career or to tell me about Lamar’s death?”

  “Both.” Skylar could tell she wasn’t going to make this easy. Catching people in lies came down to the fine details. Everyone dealt with death in different ways. Some would break down and they’d have to help them off the floor and get a family member to come and sit with them, others would have no outward response. Then there were those who would get angry. Skylar’s job was trying to determine whether this lady was purposely trying to elude her questions or was just having a reaction from grief. “Look, Ms. Goodman. We have a hurricane bearing down on us and someone out there killing people. I understand this comes as a shock to you.”

  “It’s not a shock. I warned him about this.”

  “Warned?” Skylar asked, probing for more details.

  “Lamar had got caught up with the wrong people. I would like to say I’m surprised but I’m not. It’s part of the reason why we broke up a few weeks ago.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I found out he was selling drugs.” She got up from the chair across from Skylar and told her she would be right back. A few minutes later she emerged with a fairly large box. She placed it on the coffee table in front of her and made a gesture. “Go on, take a look.”

  Skylar pulled back one of the cardboard flaps and peered in. It was full of empty drug bottles. “Does the name Mike Randall ring a bell?” Skylar asked.

  “No.”

  “Well it seems that was Lamar’s source.” Skylar lifted her eyes. “Why do you have these?”

  “He used to store them in the second garage. That’s where I found them. I rarely went in there other than to take out the trash through the main garage. I decided to do some spring cleaning and found these. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer so I assumed he was either selling or taking them. I assumed it was selling as he was a fairly level-headed guy. He never suffered from depression or stress. At least he didn’t show any signs.” She paused and added, “Lamar used to live here with me, that was until I kicked his ass out and he got himself an apartment again in Carrabelle.”

  “So you didn’t like him lying to you?”

  “Would you?”

  Skylar pulled a face and looked down at the box again. “I’m a little confused on one thing here.” She frowned. “If he was selling. Why would he keep empty bottles?”

  “To fill them.”

  “But he got them from Mike Randall.”

  “Perhaps this Mr. Randall didn’t give him the bottles, only the contents,” Sara said. Skylar took out her notepad and scribbled a few notes to follow up with Harvey and find out what they found at Randall’s residence. She continued, “Anyway, I don’t know. All I know is that he acted all defensive when he came home one day and I had the box on the table. Accused me of rooting through his stuff. Can you imagine that? Rooting through his stuff? This is my home. And anyway, why would he have a problem if he wasn’t trying to hide something?”

  “Did he eventually give you a straight answer?”

  “Of course, but whether it was straight or a lie is unknown. He said they were for someone else. Not him. But I know he was selling to different people.”

  “For someone.” Skylar looked inside the box. The bottles had labels on them but they were blank. She thought back to what was sprayed on the tree. “Sara, did Lamar ever speak about someone named Jason Matthews?”

  Sara was looking down when Skylar dropped the name. Her eyes immediately flicked to hers and she could tell she knew him. “Jason Matthews? I don’t recognize the name.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Sara got up from the chair. “Can I get you some coffee?” Skylar nodded. She wandered into the kitchen and Skylar followed her. “This business of yours, does it take you to different towns on a frequent basis?”

  “Sometimes. I have to buy products.”

  “Buy?”

  “I flip furniture, detective. I purchase what people don’t want at a low price, refinish it with paint and resell it at a higher price. You can see some of my work in the garage, that’s where I do it.” She motioned for Skylar to go see while she put the kettle on. Skylar took herself down the hallway and through a door that led into the garage. She turned the light on and was met with the sight of pieces of furniture taking up every inch of space. Tables, chairs, cupboards, dressers, you name it, it was in there. Off to the side was a workbench covered in sheets and stacks of paint. Some of the products looked as if they’d just arrived and were scratched up and had pieces missing, others were ready to go, plush looking, upscale with new knobs, handles and a fresh lick of paint.

  “You been doing this long?” Skylar called out to her while Sara continued making coffee. Skylar scanned the room looking for anything suspicious, such as rope. Besides the furniture the room was organized and tidy. A couple of cardboard boxes at the rear but that was it. She stepped down the wooden step and crossed the garage to take a look. “You lug all of this in here? Strong woman,” Skylar said.

  As she was about to open a box Sara appeared in the doorway. “Coffee is ready.”

  Skylar didn’t have permission to go digging around in her belongings so she pretended she was looking at a piece of furniture. She turned, smiled and headed back in.

  “So business is doing good? I mean, it must be to afford a home like this and that brand-new SUV in the driveway, right?”

  Sara didn’t
look very enthusiastic when she replied. “It’s operating at a profit.”

  Her lack of excitement was strange.

  “I’ve been in the market for a vehicle. Lexuses aren’t cheap.”

  “I lease it.”

  “Still that’s quite the monthly payment.”

  Sara squinted. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “It’s my job to,” Skylar replied. Sara made her way back to the kitchen and handed Skylar her cup. She offered her milk and sugar but Skylar took it black. Skylar looked at a photo on a shelf. It showed Sara in a judogi.

  “You do judo?”

  Sara glanced back. “Used to, was a state champion for many years.”

  Skylar nodded. “That explains being strong enough to carry those products into your garage.” Skylar continued to stare at the image of her with some girl in a choke hold. Her thoughts returned to the crimes committed. It would have taken someone who had some strength. A woman might have been easy to overlook. Changing the topic, Skylar said, “I have to say you seem to have a flair for what you do. Do you mind me asking how much you’re selling them for?”

  “Depends, you interested?”

  “I might be. I don’t have a lot of space on my boat right now but I’ve been thinking of getting off the water and getting a place of my own.”

  Sara took a seat at a round oak dining table. There was a beautiful chandelier above it and fresh flowers in the center. “Varies from thirty to two hundred dollars. Though most of the items in the garage are below a hundred dollars.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty cheap. You must buy them for next to nothing. I mean to turn a profit, as you would have to account for paint, your time and so forth. You must stay busy.”

  “I guess,” she replied taking a sip of her coffee and eyeing Skylar over the rim of the cup. Skylar was fairly good at telling if someone was lying and their conversation so far had all manner of red flags. It didn’t take a mathematician to realize there was no chance in hell she was making enough money from the business to pay her bills. The furniture flipping business wasn’t as lucrative as it was made out to be. The fact was few people wanted to buy something second-hand for top dollar and if each piece cost anywhere from ten to thirty dollars to buy, she either had to be churning them out fast or selling them for at least five hundred or more to be getting anywhere close to bringing in the kind of money that paid for a home and Lexus. That got Skylar thinking if she was running some other business on the side. Perhaps she was involved in the drug game. Maybe her falling out with Lamar was related to that, or… Her mind went back to the description given of the woman who was seen with Jason Matthews.

  “Excuse me, I just need to make a phone call. By the way, great coffee,” Skylar said. Sara smiled. She seemed to thrive on attention. Skylar headed out the side of the home and stood under the carport watching the wind batter the landscape. She made a quick phone call to Harvey.

  “Oh hey, Harv, the description of the woman that was seen with Jason Matthews the night he died. It was a blonde with green eyes, right?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Skylar made a clicking noise with her mouth and nodded confirming her belief. “I’m here at Sara Goodman’s home. She has a box of empty drug bottles that apparently belonged to Erickson. She said he was dealing to someone. You mentioned Jenna said there was no trace of those drugs in his system, so the question is who? And why not just put whoever he was getting them for in contact with Randall directly? Then we have to ask the question, was that person behind his death or was Ms. Long Legs?”

  “Ms. Who?”

  “Ah forget it. Listen. Have you seen the body of Carly Michaels? Any word back from Davenport on Veterans Village?”

  “Not yet. Then again, we aren’t having much luck with this storm. I’ll follow up with Davenport though. Stay safe.”

  “You too.” Skylar hung up and went back inside. Sara was still sitting in the kitchen drinking her coffee. She had this guilty look on her face. She was only in the house a few minutes when a window smashed on the far side of the home. Sara jumped up and double-timed it down the hallway and into the living room. Skylar wasn’t that far behind her. A large tree branch had snapped and embedded itself through her large window. Glass was all over the floors in tiny and large pieces. Sara looked beside herself as the wind continued to batter the home and flow in through the open space causing paperwork to churn and fly into the air.

  Skylar didn’t think twice. She went straight over to the window and heaved the large branch back out. “Do you have a tarp or black plastic bags, and some tape? We’ll need to seal this up.” Sara nodded and took off to collect the items while Skylar began picking up some of the large shards of glass and stacking them. As she was crouched down and was doing that, she noticed a beautiful piece of décor underneath one of the side tables. It was made from glass and resembled a fishbowl except inside was a tree made from steel with a wooden swing hanging from it. Skylar scooped it up and upon a closer look she noticed words engraved in the glass: Love from Jason M. Coincidence? I think not, she thought. She set it back down again as soon as she heard Sara coming. She returned to collecting shards when Sara entered with a pan and broom, a box of black plastic bags and tape. “Will this do?”

  “That should be fine.”

  As Skylar went about fixing the window, she glanced at Sara who was brushing shattered glass into the pan. “Beautiful décor,” Skylar said gesturing with her head to the glass object. “Was it a gift?”

  Sara looked up and followed her gaze. “Oh, no I bought that in Panama City.”

  “New or used?”

  “Brand new.”

  She nodded. “Strange they would engrave it with the words, Love from Jason M.”

  All the color in Sara’s face disappeared and she swallowed hard.

  14

  The phone call from Elizabeth came in at the worst time. Harvey was knee deep in the serial murder investigation and was following up with Veterans Village when it rang for the second time. He was in the habit of ignoring it the first time then if it rang a second time, he figured it was urgent. Sure enough within seconds it jangled in his pocket. Harvey was multi-tasking. He was looking at the report that the Carrabelle Police Department had sent over on Jake Weslo, while holding a landline phone receiver between his shoulder and neck, waiting for someone at Veterans Village to pick up. “Urgh,” he groaned fishing into his pocket while still typing away with one hand. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen until he glanced at his phone. A quick redial and he was connected to home. “Elizabeth. Can this wait? I’m real busy right now.”

  “It’s Payton, she’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “I went to give her lunch but she’s locked the door and won’t answer.”

  “Perhaps she has her headphones on or is asleep.”

  “Harvey, I practically put a hole in the door.”

  “Yeah she did,” Michael said in the background.

  “Have you gone around to the window?”

  “Well that’s the thing, you sealed it up, remember?”

  He groaned. “Try her cell. Just in case she had her headphones on.”

  “I’ll give that a try. Hold on,” she said before placing the phone down. Harvey could hear Michael trying to get his sister to open up by intimidating her through saying that she was in big trouble. A few seconds later, Elizabeth got back on the phone. “She’s not responding. I’m worried. You don’t think she might have done something, you know, because of what you said about Jake the other night, and her not being allowed to see him?” Harvey rocked his head back. He felt a wave of tiredness hit him and he was beginning to miss Barb’s coffee. Besides Vagabond’s it was the only stuff that seemed to wake him up.

  “Listen, I have to speak with Jake’s stepfather. Give me ten minutes and I will swing by and check in.”

  He disconnected and stood up fast, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. His doctor had told him he had to slow d
own otherwise he was liable to end up in the hospital from stress. All well and good but his doc hadn’t met Skylar, and he sure as hell didn’t know what the job put him through. He reached for his third cup of coffee for the day and downed the remainder. Harvey nearly spat it out as the last few dregs had gone cold. There weren’t many things that he hated in this world but cold coffee was one of them. He couldn’t understand folks that asked for it. Warm or cold weather his coffee had to be piping hot. Harvey gathered up an armful of paperwork and keys to the cruiser, and marched towards the exit past desk after desk of officers who were answering phones.

  “Baker. Where you going?” Hanson asked. He’d been hounding him since they’d returned to the department with Randall. He was beginning to feel sorry for Reznik. Having Hanson as a partner daily must have been a challenge.

  “I’m following up on one of Randall’s clients.”

  “Related to the deaths?”

  He wasn’t going to answer that. The fact was Jake Weslo had nothing to do with the murders but he couldn’t exactly tell him that. As it stood, until they got more information from Veterans Village and Sara Goodman, and until the weather died down, the chances of them making any headway were slim to none. Besides, he had a bad feeling about Weslo after discovering he was purchasing from Randall. To think that kind of guy was hanging around his daughter creeped him out. The last thing he wanted was to find her addicted to drugs. Harvey threw a hand up and mumbled something incoherent in the hope that Hanson would drop it. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t.