2 Multiple Exposures (16 page)

“Well since I didn’t, it makes no difference!”

“Was your car in the lot when you left the alley?”

“You know it was since you and your men made me to verify it!”

“The hood was warm.”

“We hadn’t been there long. The guy at the bowling alley confirmed that much. I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.” Paul jabbed a finger in our direction. “None of them said they saw me behind the wheel, and if they claim they did—”

“Careful, Mr. Jacobs,” Spencer warned. “You don’t want to make any threats.

Paul’s attorney whispered into his ear, and Paul clamped his teeth together.

On and on the arguments continued until I was weary all over again. We were getting nowhere. The situation seemed to amount to our word against Paul’s and his friends. No proof existed. Paul wanted to claim he had no motive for running us down. Gloria cried nonstop. Inna sat in a chair and drew her feet up with an expression of sullen indifference. I had heard Allie Kate was driving her mad with constant nagging the closer she drew to graduation.

As for me, well, I didn’t know what to think. If Paul thought I worked with the police to try to get him convicted for Dr. Bloomberg’s murder, he might feel angry enough to try to kill me. So he was not without motive. However, I agreed with him. We had nothing.

“I’d like to dust your vehicle for prints,” Spencer suggested.

Paul’s eyes widened.

“What will that prove? It’s
my
car?”

“We don’t have to submit to that,” his attorney stated.

Spencer grunted in frustration. “It’s possible
if
there was someone driving your car, they may not have worn gloves. Yes, it’s a chance, but it’s all we have.”

Much whispering commenced between Paul and his attorney. Gloria sniffed, head bowed. Her husband glanced at her, and I did too. Surely, he didn’t think Gloria had done it, and even if her prints were found, she had no doubt driven his car before, hadn’t she?

“No,” Paul said. “No dice. You’re not dusting my car, and if you’re not going to arrest me, I’m leaving.”

I waited for Spencer to stop him, but he said nothing.

“So that’s it?” I asked. “We almost get killed, and that’s all?”

“I’m sorry, Makayla,” Spencer said. “There’s nothing else I can do without a court order, and I don’t have any evidence to get that order.”

Paul cast me a scathing look as he left, and Gloria didn’t turn her head my way at all. Isabelle walked over to stand beside me and wrapped an arm about my shoulders. I offered her a weak and tired smile. “I didn’t thank you before.”

“No matter.”

I shook my head. “You said you were there to save my life. The words turned out to prophetic. Kind of creepy, but I’m very grateful.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave me a squeeze. “Sheriff, have you spoken with my brother?”

Spencer eyed her. “Yes, an hour ago. Seems like a good man. He didn’t know why you were here though.”

She smiled and released me. “I’m going where the leading takes me. I like Briney Creek and its people.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Does that mean you’re going to stay?”

“Oh no. I have to get back to my shop, and my brother needs me even though he thinks he doesn’t. My place is in Summit’s Edge, so this visit is temporary. I’ll be leaving soon.”

I still didn’t understand the woman, but I liked her spirit. She seemed genuine, and I accepted her as she seemed to be. Spencer also accepted whatever Isabelle’s brother had shared about her. He dismissed us all with a warning to be careful. I saw that he wanted to talk to me further, but I assured him we would talk later, and I left the station with Isabelle and Inna.

Chapter Eighteen

I stood in the shower allowing the water to rinse away shampoo from my hair, but it did nothing for my temperament. Weariness sat like a boulder on my shoulders and confusion clouded my mind. Did Paul have something to do with the murders, and if he didn’t, who did?

Was Paul the partner Lissa had been about to name? The prospect shook me. I couldn’t make my mind wrap around it let alone accept it. Paul might be an angry man, but perverted? He had a wife and child.

I know, my reasoning was flawed and ridiculous. Criminals didn’t fit in neat little molds of hiding out in dark corners. One couldn’t identify them by their lack of a wife and kids. I shivered because of this despite the heat from the hot water.

At last, I shut the water off, having decided I had used up half of Briney Creek’s supply alone. The skin on my fingertips was wrinkly, with the uncomfortable feeling of dryness notwithstanding the beads of water still running over the surface.

Dried, lotioned, and clothed, I curled up on the recliner I had recently purchased and worked a towel through my hair. I didn’t feel like blowing it out and tried to get as much of the moisture absorbed into the towel as possible.

So, Lissa wanted to tell me something the night she died. She had suspected someone else was in the picture all along. Who might it have been? Was there proof anywhere? She’d said she’d gone back to the office, but I imagined the killer removed whatever it was she found there.

Was there anything else?

I gasped and sat bolt upright. There might be. Lissa had sent me an email with the full list. Maybe she had written something in there. I rushed to my laptop and jabbed the button to boot it up. Bouncing with impatience while the inner cogs whirred, I considered what Lissa might have said that could lead to the murderer’s identity.

At last the screen lit with my icons, and I double clicked the one for the browser. My email took seconds that felt like hours to come up. I opened Lissa’s email, which I still had, and read the short missive. Nothing. In hindsight, I realized if she had said anything revealing, I would have seen it the first time I read the email.

Deflated, I pulled up the list again, which was pointless because I had it printed out and had been blurring my vision with it for ages. Well, not really. I had switched to using Spencer’s full list, which highlighted the women whose pictures were on Dr. Bloomberg’s computer.

I ran through the list using the ball on my mouse. The names zipped by. I scrolled back and forth, lethargic, annoyed. While I pretty much ignored what I was seeing, I went over the facts again in my head. I was losing steam.

“Three thousand, eight hundred forty-two,” I read at the end, uncaring. “She should have said just under four thousand not over three thousand. Ugh, what does it matter, Makayla? This is impossible.”

Dr. Bloomberg had been busy. What happened to easy cases where there were only three or four suspects? Why was I in this position?

“Stop it, you,” I said to myself. “This is no time to feel sorry for yourself.”

I looked at the daunting number again. Spencer had gone through all of the marked names, he’d told me. Now he would begin with the others. Temptation to let him handle it came over me because, after all, he did order me to leave it be.

I shook my head and started to repeat the number again. I stopped midsentence. What if…

Heart pounding, ears ringing, I ran to my purse and dug out Spencer’s list and flattened it on my desk. Then with my hands shaking, I flipped to the back page. Each entry was numbered, so I knew I would find out the answer to my question right away.

“Three thousand, eight hundred forty—”

I swallowed. My throat felt like the Sahara. I compared the numbers over and over, but there was no mistake about it. Spencer’s list held three thousand, eight hundred forty-one names. He had pulled his list off of Dr. Bloomberg’s computer. Mine I had gotten directly from Lissa, and I hadn’t told Spencer about it because I didn’t want to get into trouble. Lissa had compiled her list before the murders occurred, and it held one name more.

One name.

Someone had removed her name from the list. That someone might also be the killer. At first glance, I couldn’t be sure who was on one list but not the other. If I had received Spencer’s list digitally, maybe I might be able to compare the two in a spreadsheet program. Being so edgy at that moment, I couldn’t imagine how I would do it. Maybe after I calmed down.

Instead, I phoned Spencer. I waited while the phone rang and rang. Of course he would be busy at a time like this. I disconnected and sat back in my chair, staring at the list on my computer screen and on the paper. What should I do? Common sense said pore over the lists until I pinpointed the name. My stomach muscles contracted so much, they affected my eyes. Call me crazy.

My cell phone rang, and I snatched it up thinking Spencer returned my call. David’s name flashed on the screen. I answered.

“Hi, honey, what are you doing? I’m feeling blah, and I need a drinking partner.”

“You heard about the accident, didn’t you?” I shot back.

He whined. “You were supposed to believe my excuse. Okay, fine. Yes, I did. Are you all right? Ollie said you were this close to death.”

“How close? I can’t see.”

“Don’t give me a hard time, missy. I’m calling because I’m worried about you.”

I smiled. “Thanks, David, but I’m okay. Mostly. Spencer couldn’t get clear evidence on whether Paul was driving the car, so I don’t know what to believe about that.”

“Who else could it have been? We all saw that maniac at the church. He’s dangerous. Maybe we should worry about his wife.”

“Gloria does seem to be cowed by him, but I think she loves him, and maybe he doesn’t take it too far, you know?”

David made a noncommittal noise. “I’ve decided not to believe any of these nutty people anymore.”

“That’s a dark view, David. Most of the citizens of Briney Creek are good souls.”

“You think that because you see light and butterflies around everyone.”

“Someone is bitter.”

David sounded like he shook himself. “You’re right! I’m not my usual fabulous self. We can’t let that happen. So, I’m getting my best stuff and bringing it to your apartment. Have the glasses ready, honey, because we’re going to drink ourselves happy.”

I chuckled. “Okay, but if we do, you have to help me.”

“Anything, suga’.” He spoke the endearment with a heavy southern dialect, which was how many of the ladies in Briney Creek spoke. For some reason, it lifted my spirits.

“You said you have a good eye for detail?”

“I must have to make jewelry.”

“Good. Then I will make use of your eyes. Come on over whenever you’re ready.”

“You got it.”

A short while later, my doorbell rang, and I checked the peephole to see that David stood on the other side. He must have heard me approach the door, because he plastered a huge smile on his face and held up a bottle of wine to press to his cheek. The man was a lush, I thought amused.

The moment I unlocked the door, Talia’s music started up. I rolled my eyes at David because of it, and he laughed. “I think she’s assuming we’re about to party, and it doesn’t matter if she does too.”

“How does she even know I have a visitor,” I demanded.

He started past me and kissed my cheek. “No idea, but can anyone explain the fearsome Talia Johnston?”

“No,” I agreed. “I guess we can’t.”

I shut the door and pointed out the glasses to David. As he poured for both of us, I explained what I needed. He set the bottle down and took a long drink of his wine ahead of me.

“That bad?” I snarked.

“Yes, honey!” He smacked his lips and approached my desk holding out my glass. “Come on. Drink up. We can use it. I don’t like all this killing business. Gives me the willies, and it’s all just too close to you. I’m wondering just how safe it is to be your friend.”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you blaming me, David?”

“Never, darling.” He waved his glass around, the liquid sloshing. I worried about my carpet. “Like I told you, there are crazies in this town. Then again, if we catch him, we can send him away and be one down. How many more might there be though?”

“I choose to believe zero.” I handed him half the sheet of names, which I had printed out from my list and half from Spencer’s list. I took the other half. “Start looking before you’re too drunk to see straight.”

David wrinkled his nose. “Where’s the fun in seeing straight?”

“Honestly, David, did you come to help or not?”

“I came to help.”

“Thank y—”

“And to party.”

Talia’s music changed, and David yanked me up from my chair and started dancing around the small living room. I leaped for his glass and managed to pry it from his fingers to set down. David, not deterred, whipped me around a few more times.

“Okay, you,” I said with a smirk, “since you’re determined, I will show you how to boogie.”

I pulled my hand from his and did a little wiggle with my hips and pivoting this way and that on my toes. David stopped moving completely and blinked at me. “You’re not good at that at all, Makayla.”

I stilled. “Well that’s just mean, David.”

He chuckled and grabbed my glass to refill. “More for you, young lady. Whatever you did just now looked painful.”

I took the offered glass and set it on the desk. “We have to get serious. What’s come over you?”

He drained his glass. “Life, honey.”

“David?”

He hiccupped.

I touched his cheek. His skin felt clammy, and his eyelids were heavy. “You’re already drunk. I guess I’m going to have to do this on my own.”

My doorbell rang, and I groaned. With the constant interruptions I was getting nowhere. Stomping over to the door, I grumbled under my breath. The bell rang again just as I reached it, and I was surprised to see Brandon waiting. I opened the door.

“Brandon? It’s kind of late.”

He offered me an apologetic look and pointed to the huge box in front of him. “I’m sorry, Makayla. I’m behind today, but I always have up until eight p.m. to deliver before I have to move the delivery to the next day. Is it all right?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Come inside.” I backed up to let him in. As soon as his gaze met David’s droopy one, he seemed hesitant. David in his current state might mean he would come on to Brandon without holding back. I rushed to reach for the signing device in David’s hand. “Here, let me hurry up and take care of that.”

“Brandon,” David chirped too loudly. “It’s you. Did you come to see me?”

Brandon opened his mouth, but David stumbled over to him and grabbed his arm. I reached for David, but my friend whirled in a pretty good move for a drunken man, still holding onto Brandon.

“You make me feel like dancing,” David sang off key. “I want to dance the night away.”

“Oh, David,” I moaned. “Come here. Sorry about this, Brandon. I think he’s had a little too much to drink tonight.”

Brandon mumbled something unintelligible in his apparent embarrassment, and I grabbed David and tried to drag him from the room. The man might be small, but he was wily. He ducked away from me twice to get back to Brandon, and my patience grew thinner.

“Maybe I should come back tomorrow,” Brandon suggested and turned toward the door.

“No,” I shouted and then tried to modify my tone. For the moment, I had wrapped both arms around one of David’s. His knees kept dipping, almost dropping us to the floor. I began to wonder if he was faking, but the odd look in his eyes as he gazed at Brandon decided me on removing him from the room. “Just a minute while I get him to lie down. I’ll push him if I have to.”

My teasing didn’t get a rise from Brandon, but he did wait, and I turned to shuffle David into my bedroom. This time, he didn’t fight me, and true to my word, I gave him a mighty push onto the bed. He plopped onto it face down. I thought he wouldn’t swivel his head to get some air, but eventually he did, and I sighed in relief.

I hesitated long enough to yank off his shoes and dump the comforter over him. Guess it was the recliner for me tonight. After I was done with David and feeling a bit of moisture in my underarms, I returned to the living room. Brandon leaned against the wall studying his shoes and jiggling the signing device. He was too close to one of my precious landscapes, and I cleared my throat.

Brandon jumped to attention. “Here you go.”

I signed, thanked him, and let him out of the apartment. All of a sudden, I was exhausted beyond belief. I didn’t want to compare the lists. In fact, I didn’t want to open the stupid box that had been delivered to me either.

“Okay, Makayla, in a minute you’ll be pouting like Edna.” I chuckled at the thought, which lightened my mood a tad.

Starting with the box since it required less brainpower, I found a pair of scissors and cut the tape holding the flaps closed. Beneath a mountain of bubble wrap was a cycle exerciser. Now I know you’re thinking I found an exercise bike, and that might be cool
if
I wanted to actually use it. Two problems with this thought—one, I still had no wish to exercise, and two, this wasn’t a fancy exercise bike at all. This was, according to the instruction manual, which was really just a slip of paper, an upper and lower body cycle with plastic grips.