4 Arch Enemy of Murder (14 page)

Tosh gave Lacy her choice of restaurants, and she decided on the taco place. They took the food to go and ate in the car on the short drive to Pearl’s house. As they sat in the driveway to finish up, Lacy tried and failed to see any hints of Pearl’s personality in the house. It looked like any other on the block—small, tidy, and simple. They were probably attracting a lot of attention from the neighbors by hovering in the driveway. The neighborhood was old and well-settled, just like Barbara Blake’s neighborhood around the corner.

“I expected Pearl’s house to be pink or purple or have a bunch of scary lawn decorations,” Lacy said.

“She rents,” Tosh explained. “I think her landlord is fairly strict about what she can do on the outside. Speaking of which, why don’t you rent Barbara Blake’s house? It’s just sitting empty.”

“I should. I’ve been so consumed with opening the Stakely building that I haven’t had time or energy to think about it. But after the opening, you’re right; I need to do something. Oh, by the way, Riley’s throwing a grand opening party.”

“That’s nice.”

“For a fee.”

“That’s less nice, but still a good idea, I think.”

Lacy shrugged. She still didn’t see the need for a party, but it was a moot point, so she might as well get on board.

“Ready?” Tosh asked.

“Yes.” She got out of the car and followed him to the front porch. “What are we looking for?”

“Anything that might clear Pearl or point to someone else,” Tosh said. “Anything out of the ordinary.” He opened the door and they stepped inside. Lacy tensed and hugged the doorframe. Thousands upon thousands of sets of eyes stared back at them.

“How will we know if anything is out of the ordinary?” Lacy asked.

“She said she collected dolls, but this is a bit more than what I expected,” Tosh said.

Dolls were everywhere. They lined the shelves, chairs, stairs, mantels, and bookcases. They weren’t cloth dolls. Instead they were porcelain, and they looked real, like hundreds of tiny children who had been frozen in time. Some were dressed as clowns.

“If we’re going to search, then we should probably move away from the door,” Tosh said, although he sounded as reluctant as she felt. “Is that clown holding a scythe?”

“I don’t know; I don’t want to look directly at it,” Lacy said.

“C’mon,” Tosh said. He held out his hand to her and she clasped it. He pulled her close so that their arms were glued together as they shuffled down the hall, past the rows upon rows of observing dolls. “Why do I feel like they can hear us?” Tosh whispered.

“Is Pearl into taxidermy? Because some of these look too real to be fake,” Lacy said. They entered the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no dolls. There were, however, unicorns. “I’ve never seen a unicorn-themed kitchen before.”

“Do you think each room has its own theme?” Tosh asked.

“They make unicorn bread knives,” Lacy said as she held one up to inspect it. The body was the handle while the horn was the knife.

“We’re becoming distracted and losing focus,” Tosh said. He held out a pair of unicorn corn holders for her inspection.

“Of course we are; we’ve landed in a Beatles song from their LSD years,” Lacy said.

“Let’s move on,” Tosh said. “The bright mix of colors in here is making me feel like I’m going to have a seizure.”

They left the kitchen and moved to a small office. It was perfectly normal with a boring desk and generic lamp. “I never want to leave this room,” Tosh said.

They made quick work of searching the office and came up empty handed, but still they paused before heading into the living room. “I’m scared,” Tosh admitted.

“It can’t be worse than the dolls or unicorns,” Lacy said, but she was wrong. They entered the living room and turned in a slow circle, staring at the many stuffed animals. Not stuffed animals like teddy bears, but real stuffed animals. Except instead of the ubiquitous deer heads, pheasants and ducks, they all seemed to be members of the weasel family. Lacy counted four minks, three weasels, two skunks, two martins, and a stoat—the last three she knew only because they were labeled.

“Oh, sweet mercy,” Tosh muttered. Lacy tried to see the room through Jason’s eyes and knew it would take a miracle to get Pearl out of jail.

“She likes hunting,” Lacy said.

“That doesn’t mean she killed anyone,” Tosh said.

“But it does prove that she’s good with guns,” Lacy said.

“She already admitted that,” Tosh said.

“She admitted almost everything,” Lacy said.

“It’s the almost that gets me. If Pearl said she didn’t do it, then I believe her.”

Lacy didn’t point out the obvious—that Pearl was delusional in the least or downright psychotic at the most. “I guess we should go up to the bedroom now.”

Tosh agreed, but still they dawdled, daring each other to go first with their eyes. Tosh finally sighed and squared his shoulders. “How bad could it be after the weasel room?”

“Let’s not ask any more questions like that,” Lacy suggested. She nudged him and he went first up the stairs. He was the first to arrive and say, “Oh.” His tone was neutral, and he blocked the entryway, so she wasn’t sure if it was a good sound or bad. She squeezed in under his arm and stopped short, adding her own, “Oh.”

The room wasn’t creepy, at least not for an eight-year-old girl. It was a princess theme, from the pink and purple color scheme to the crudely shaped wooden Cinderella pumpkin cutout being used as a headboard. “This room is kind of sad,” Lacy said.

Tosh gave her a look. “The weasel room wasn’t sad for you?”

“It’s just that women hope their men will make them feel like a princess. Pearl apparently gave up on that and decided to make herself feel like a princess.”

“That is sad, and also a fascinating glimpse into the female psyche. Speak more wisdom, friend.”

Lacy gave his arm a shove. “Let’s search.”

They made quick work of the room and turned up nothing that would either incriminate or clear Pearl. “This is hopeless,” Lacy declared.

“Let’s talk to the neighbors,” Tosh suggested and then paused at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Lacy asked.

“I don’t want to walk through the dolls again.”

“Neither do I,” she agreed.

He took her hand and held it firmly in his. “Let’s do this.”

She nodded and together they ran as fast as they could down the stairs, through the hall of dolls, and out the door.

By the time they reached the porch, Lacy was hobbling again. The neighbors had nothing helpful to say. None knew Pearl. No one remembered hearing or seeing anything on the night of the murder, and everyone was incensed that they were being questioned again after the police had already made their rounds.

“Where do we go from here?” Tosh asked after they talked to all the neighbors who would open their doors.

“To bed. I have court in the morning, and I’m exhausted,” Lacy said. He dropped her at home and once again declined to come inside. Lacy wondered if he would always wait outside for as long as Riley was home. “Will you be there in the morning?”

“I can’t. No one is allowed in the courtroom but you, the judge, Pearl, and the prosecutor.”

Lacy supposed that was for the best. Even though she could have used the moral support, there would be fewer people to witness what was sure to be a humiliating failure. She had no idea what to do, and she was trying hard not to think about it so she didn’t become nervous and stay awake fretting.

She said a breezy hello to her grandparents as she passed through the kitchen. She should probably knock on Riley’s door and apologize for trying to kill her over the cupcakes, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she double-checked her alarm and fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning, anxiety woke her early. She had plenty of time to run, shower, and eat breakfast with her grandmother.

“You didn’t go out after you came in last night, did you?” Lucinda asked as she added another slice of coffee cake to Lacy’s plate.

“No, why?”

“I heard the door open and close. When I looked at the clock, it was three.” With a worried frown, she took a bite of her own cake.

“Grandma, you should have woken me if you were worried. Did you get up and check the house?”

Lucinda nodded and waited to speak until she swallowed and patted her mouth with a napkin. “Nothing was amiss. The door was locked, the lights off.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I think it was Riley.”

“Do you think she was coming or going?” Lacy asked.

“I don’t know,” Lucinda said. She twisted her napkin fretfully between her fingers. “Do you think she’s in trouble?”

“I think it’s more likely that she had a late date,” Lacy said. Riley was famous for sneaking in or out to see boyfriends, or at least she had been during high school.

“With Travis?” Lucinda asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lacy said.

“Then who?”

“I don’t know,” Lacy admitted. She couldn’t imagine who Riley might be meeting. Jealousy flared as she pictured Jason, but she immediately shoved the image away. He wouldn’t do that to her. Travis was out of the question since Riley didn’t deem him wealthy enough to trifle with. None of her friends were in the area. She had to be meeting someone, but whom? “I’ll keep an ear out for her and see if I can catch her some night,” Lacy promised. Catching her off guard was the only chance she had at finding out what she was up to.

Lucinda sighed. “I wish you two girls got along better.”

“So do I,” Lacy said. She gave her own sigh. She was envious of those girls who called their sister their best friend. Lacy and Riley had never been close. Her earliest memories of her sister were of Riley stealing her toys and breaking them on purpose. “I should go.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek and set off for downtown. Her feet still hurt, so she had chosen to wear sensible pumps instead of the more empowering heels.

When she arrived at the courthouse, she had no idea where to go. A helpful security guard showed her the way. She was the first one there and stood at the back of the room trying to remember which side was for the defendant and which was for the prosecution. Did real lawyers have this trouble? Which side had been Sam Waterston’s on
Law & Order
? The right side had been Sam’s; Lacy sat on the left.

Slowly people began to filter in, first a bailiff, then the prosecutor, and then a guard and Pearl.

“How are you holding up, Pearl?”

“Jail is very gray,” Pearl said. After seeing the fluorescent rainbow that was her kitchen, Lacy supposed that the lack of color at the jail was a dire punishment in and of itself.

She leaned in close to whisper her next question so the prosecutor wouldn’t hear. “Did you kill all those animals in your living room?”

“Most. I love to hunt. It soothes me. I tried to join a hunting club, but they said it was for men only. Maybe I should start a hunting club for women,” she mused as her face took on a dreamy expression.

“Good idea,” Lacy said because it was the best, most encouraging thing she could come up with. Better for Pearl to go to her happy place and pretend she would ever see the light of day again, let alone have the freedom to own firearms and use them.

“All rise,” the bailiff announced. The occupants of the room complied as the judge entered and took the bench. He sat. “Be seated,” he announced as he picked up some papers and began to shuffle. “Prosecution, proceed.”

The prosecutor began listing the reason for Pearl’s arrest. The judge nodded as he continued to scan the papers in his hand. Lacy felt a moment of panic that he might next turn to her and ask her to speak, but he didn’t.

“Ms. Merleputter,” he said when the prosecutor finished his part. “The sixth amendment provides you with the right to counsel. I see you have chosen your own counsel. I strongly advise you to rethink the matter and hire a skilled attorney.” He pinned Lacy with a glare that made her squirm for her incompetence. “You are being charged with murder in the second degree. Do you understand these charges?”