Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

the thread. "Even if it was a mannequin or someone playing a trick, we wanted to report it just in case."

"Convenient that Alex is the one to discover a body right after being the subject of another criminal investigation," Chief Duncan remarked, one eyebrow raised.

"Now, Chief," my father cut in, his voice carrying a warning. "I'd hardly label Alex's traffic accident criminal."

"It's convenient, is all," the chief mumbled.

"Convenient, how?" I asked, that prick of annoyance returning full force. "You think I wanted to discover a body? You think I wanted someone dead? Why? To get my picture off the front page of some rinky-dink newspaper?"

"Okay, Ms. Lightwood. I'm sure that isn't what the chief was implying," Detective Spaulding said, giving the chief a pointed look. "Can you walk us through the rest of the evening? Your father already gave us his statement, but we'd like to hear your version of events."

I nodded and described walking Linc, my father, and the chief back to the spot where Missy lay. I drew from my many years on-site with journalists to remove myself from the moment and report the events factually.

"You recognized the woman?" Detective Spaulding asked when I finished.

I nodded.

"How?" Chief Duncan asked. "You haven't been in town in years, and yet you recognized someone in one glance."

That gave me pause. Should I mention the fight at the salon? It wasn't really a fight, just a few women exchanging words. And insults. Deciding it would only confuse things, I chose to keep it to myself for now.

"We went to high school together," I said lamely.

"Almost fifteen years ago!" Chief Duncan leaned forward in his chair and pointed his stubby finger at me. I recoiled backward instinctively even though the table separated us.

"Clive Duncan!" my mother exclaimed, hands on hips. "I've invited you into my house. If you can't act appropriately, you can leave this instant."

"I'm asking relevant questions," he said, huffing back in his chair once again.

"This is sounding more and more like an interrogation. Like you think Alex could possibly have something to do with Missy’s murder. Which is just ridiculous," Mom spluttered.

Detective Spaulding cut in, "It's much too early in the investigation for anyone to be jumping to conclusions. We simply need the facts, and getting them right away while they are fresh in your memory is best."

"So answer the question," Chief Duncan said.

"What question?" I asked, trying and failing to keep the snippiness out of my voice.

"How did you recognize Ms. Vandenburg after fifteen years?" Detective Spaulding asked. His tone, like mine earlier, was matter of fact, not accusatory.

"I got my hair done in her salon, Missy K's, this morning," I explained, twisting the tips of a few wet strands in my fingers.

Chief Duncan snorted again, but wisely kept his mouth shut this time. With that reaction, any residual doubt I had about mentioning my small fight with Missy vanished. I willed my gossipy mother to keep the events to herself for once.

Dad cleared his throat. "I think any more questions can wait until the morning. It's already really late."

"Unfortunately, murder doesn't keep regular business hours," Detective Spaulding quipped. "But, you're right. We've got enough for now." He rose from his chair. "Is there a number where I can reach you if I have any follow-up questions?"

I gave him my cell number. My father stood up from the table to escort the trio of police to the door. I heard him say, "Chief, if you want to ask my daughter any more questions, you can direct them to our lawyer. I'll call you with the number tomorrow."

When he returned to the table, his face was grim. "I don't like Clive Duncan's tone. He has it out for you, Alex. Be careful what you tell them."

"Can you blame him, though?" I asked. "I am the anomaly in town. I've already wrecked a town landmark. And Missy and I had words at the salon in front of plenty of witnesses. If I were the murderer, it would wrap all this up in a nice pretty bow."

"Did you murder her?" my father asked, his face blank.

"Of course not!" my mother and I shouted at the same time.

"Exactly. The truth will out. Just don't help Chief Duncan along in his delusions."

"No problem there," I said and sighed, tired straight down to my bones. "I'm going to bed. It's been quite a day. Quite a week."

"I meant what I told him. We're getting you a lawyer tomorrow. Better safe than sorry. The only murder Chief Duncan has ever investigated is the one on Law and Order."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said. I gave him a quick kiss on his bald head. "You know, 'you are oddly attired—for a knight.'"

My father smiled at the Last Crusade reference. "That's my girl."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

 

As if my time so far in Piney Ridge wasn't crappy enough, karma gave me the middle finger by scheduling my court date the Monday after I found a dead body. Which was why I now stood grimacing at my meager offering of clothes. My wardrobe hit both ends of the spectrum: perfectly acceptable for traipsing around in a foreign country or going out to a night club in New York. Not much in the middle and not a lot that said "responsible adult." I finally broke down and asked my mother to borrow an outfit.

"I look like Auntie Delores," I muttered forlornly after I tried on the least loud spring dress I could find in my mother's closet—a lavender A-line with dancing flamingos wearing sunglasses. Luckily, the flamingos were small enough that from a distance they looked like geometric shapes.

At least that's what I told myself anyway.

"You aren't in a fashion show," my mother said, dismissing my dismay