Arson Takes a Dare: The Third Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 3) (7 page)

“Dreamus runs it through the national database. And then we know Elizabeth’s secret identity!” Marisa wracked her brain. She brightened. “On television and books, people give the suspect a water bottle, and then take it back with her fingerprints and her DNA from her saliva.”

“The best way is to get her fingerprints and her DNA voluntarily, with a fingerprint kit and a DNA kit. I’ll order one online.” Tara’s fingers flew over Marisa’s computer.

“She’s already tried to blackmail us,” Marisa said. “She’s smart, savvy, and would know what we’re up to. She’d never agree.”

Tara pumped a fist. “That’s why we have to trick her! We’ll find someone to pose as a representative of the television show
Prancing with the Stars
. In order to get her on the show, the representative must have her fingerprints and DNA sample.”

“There’s a fatal flaw in your plan, Tara. If she does have a sinister past, she’d never risk revealing it. Millions of obsessed viewers would dig into her past like determined terriers.”

“That’s the beauty of the plan.” Tara laughed. “Elizabeth needs something to differentiate her from the other contestants. Her checkered past is an asset and would draw viewers to her. She’d use it as her own coin of the realm to gather votes.”

“There is no television show and no viewers!” Marisa threw up her hands.

“
She
won’t know that.” Tara snapped her fingers. “We’ll convince your friends Clara and Fred to pose as employees of the show. We’ll outfit them with fingerprint kits and a DNA swab kit.”

“Tara, you’ve lost your mind. They won’t agree to help. Clara was the lunch lady at my elementary school. She’s enjoying her retirement. Fred is a bus driver, and Clara’s boyfriend.”

Tara shook Marisa. “And Fred is a member of your addiction support group.”

Marisa narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t take that attitude with me. No one’s confidentiality or anonymity was violated. Remember, Fred rallied the area support groups to your rescue when you were investigating Jonah’s murder. He announced his membership in the group to everyone that chaotic night when he delivered a bus load of addiction support group members to the nursing home to save your ass.”

When Marisa stubbornly shook her head, Tara frowned in thought. “Anyway, I think Elizabeth has to deal with a more imminent threat.”

Marisa rubbed her forehead, her mind reeling with Tara’s colorful changes of subject. “Imminent threat? What do you mean?”

“Andrea!” Tara reminded Marisa. “She was furious with Elizabeth today. I wouldn’t be surprised if Andrea kills Elizabeth—”

“Tara, I don’t think Andrea would murder someone because she compared her to a badger. And the original parallel was drawn by Andrea’s former employee.”

“We still have a bitch on the loose with major holes in her past.” Tara crossed her arms.

Marisa bit her lip. “What if she paid a hacker to scrub her online persona?” She sighed. “I’d need a super hacker to clean up my past.”

Tara cocked her head at the glum tone in Marisa’s voice.

Marisa continued, “Alex seems fine with my past. But I wonder what he really thinks of it. Sometimes I wish I could hire a super hacker for my brain and just wipe out some of the incidents—”

Tara rose and gripped Marisa’s shoulders. “Stop that. You don’t have anything to regret.”

Marisa pulled free of Tara’s clutching fingers. “Oh, sure, one of these days, I’ll write a sizzling memoir and make a ton of money. Remember that congressman—”

“Shhh!” Tara released Marisa to put her fingers to her lips. “Don’t give the information away to Elizabeth. She lurks the halls to scoop up juicy gossip.” She snapped her fingers. “Speaking of juicy gossip, I meant to tell you about Mrs. Kenton. She won fifty million dollars in the lottery.”

Marisa pushed away her personal black cloud of regrets. “I remember Mrs. Kenton when she was a resident at the nursing home. She seemed so out of it, sprawled in her wheelchair with that ragged baby doll clutched to her chest. After the fire, Mrs. Kenton was off the strong medications and out of the wheelchair. When I saw her at the assisted living center a few months ago, she was positively spry. And now she’s won a mega jackpot. How lucky for her.”

“I’m not sure if it’s good or bad,” Tara said. “You remember her daughter died twenty years ago in a fire? Mayla Kenton was a gorgeous twenty-year-old college student, attending the University of Louisville on a music scholarship. Mrs. Kenton announced she’ll give the entire jackpot to the person who can bring her killer to justice.”

“Wow!” Marisa frowned. “How is it a bad thing?”

“Dreamus had to go on television to talk about the case. He thinks Mrs. Kenton will be inundated by crackpots who’ll try and trick her out of the money.”

“You’re right. People will do worse things for less money.” Marisa shivered.

Tara shrugged into her snug purple jacket. “Let’s go tell Alex about the amazing development with Mrs. Kenton. He met her a few months ago.”

* * * * *

“Alex, it’s not fiscally responsible to pay a full-time human resources director. You can contract with a third-party human resources consultant. That way, you can just pay for the services you need.” Elizabeth Furlong laughed. “You’ll have an even healthier bottom line, with a larger bonus for yourself.”

Outside Alex’s slightly open office door, Tara’s chest swelled in outrage.

Marisa put a cautionary finger to her lips.

“Thank you for your suggestions, Elizabeth. But Marisa does excellent work, and I’m not eliminating her job. Now, I have work to do.”

Marisa heard the tapping of fingers on a keyboard.

“Alex, you work too hard.” Elizabeth sounded pouty. “How about having dinner with me tonight?”

“You were right.” Marisa grabbed Tara’s arm. “That bitch is trying to get rid of me and steal my boyfriend.” She kept her voice low.

“She doesn’t know about you and Alex.” Tara whispered back. “She thinks you’re in the midst of a torrid romance with me.” Her shoulders shook and she put her hand over her mouth.

Marisa dragged Tara along the corridor.

“Hey! I wanted to stay and hear Alex put her in her place.” Tara stared over her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but she’s stomping away from Alex’s office.”

Elizabeth’s body was stiff with anger as she passed them. She disappeared around the corner.

Tara turned to Marisa and squealed. “Did you say Alex is your boyfriend? Now that Elizabeth is determined to play all of the angles and has Alex in her sights, you decide he’s your boyfriend?”

Marisa clenched her fists. “I’m not sure what Alex is, boyfriend or otherwise. But I’m sure he doesn’t need that boa constrictor wound around him, cutting off his oxygen.”

“Ms. Forrest, we’ve heard you’re an excellent realtor,” Will Stanton said. “We’re desperate to sell.”

“Please, call me Dee.” The realtor touched the heavy bun at the back of her head. She pulled the lapels of her jacket straight. She glanced down her body. The pinstripes and the tailored lines disguised her huge bosom. The relaxed fit pants hid her curves and sculpted legs. A thick layer of pale foundation and beige powder covered her exotic features. A touch of nearly colorless pink lipstick thinned her full mouth, while clunky, plain glass eyewear lent a scholarly air.

“Dee, we decided to sell our home because it’s too close Lacey’s brother’s place.” His wrinkled face sagged as Will put his arm around his wife’s bent shoulders. “We could have our own
Neighbors from Hell
television show.”

No one will recognize me as Diana, the exotic dancer,
the realtor thought in satisfaction. She focused on her new clients, frowning in sympathy. “Oh, no, that sounds terrible.”

Lacey Stanton nodded, her round ball of white hair bobbing above her distressed old face. “After our parents died, my brother Sam turned into a greedy, grasping fool. He believes I and our two sisters wanted to ‘cheat him out of his inheritance’. Mom and Dad eked out an existence on the old farm and didn’t leave much. Sam thought since he was the only male, he should inherit the farm.”

“My brother-in-law bought a computer so he could start meeting women online,” Will said. “He figured it would be akin to going to the animal shelter and picking out the dog he wanted. He’d click on the women he wanted to play with, and then he thought he’d simply choose one to go home with him.”

Lacey’s smile was devoid of humor. “He found out it wasn’t quite as easy as he thought it would be. After he got frustrated with online dating, he poked around on other areas of the internet. He stumbled across old-fashioned laws, like the eldest son inheriting estates in England.”

“That clinched it,” Will said. “Sam decided he was getting the old farmstead, and his sisters were out of luck. Lacey and the other girls had to hire a lawyer to get their shares under their parents’ will.”

“And now my brother is a bitter and mean old man,” Lacey said sadly. “He’s making our lives miserable. He even sent my sisters and me copies of his will. It says none of us are allowed to go to his funeral when he passes away.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, smearing the bright pink powder and leaving tracks of black mascara. “He was such a sweet boy. He taught me how to fish. I was squeamish, so he always baited the hooks and cleaned the catch. Now, he breaks our windows and ruins my flower gardens.”

“Lacey and I decided it’s not worth the fight. We’re in full retreat mode.” Will stared up at Diana. “Now, we need your help, Dee. We’ve heard you’re an excellent realtor who won’t try to pressure us or browbeat us into buying a house that’s not right for us.”

The conference room door opened. “Dee, may I speak to you for a moment?” Her mouth a grim slash across her pinched face, the newcomer grasped Dee’s arm and propelled her to the hall. She shook her finger in Dee’s face. “It’s my turn for the next walk-in client. You cut line to steal my sale.”

“Amber,” Diana said, “Mrs. Stanton called and asked for me by name. I made this appointment with them. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Dee, or whatever your name is, I’m onto you.” Amber hissed angrily, sending spittle flying.

She knows Dee is short for Diana, and I’m a stripper.
Diana’s stomach clenched.

“You think you can waltz in here with a brand-new realtor license, trying your best to outdo me in sales. Your employment application shows you’re a freelance entertainer, but not what you do to entertain.”

This is my new life and you’re not taking it away from me.
Diana pulled herself upright to her six-foot height and took a deep breath.
 

“Our rival Greenhouse Realty is constantly throwing parties and galas for their realtors.” Amber craned her neck and stood on her tiptoes to get her face as close to Diana’s as she could without a stepladder. “I bet you work for their catering staff. Greenhouse Realty decided to pay for your real estate training and license, and they sent you here to spy on us.”

Hoping her face was impassive, Diana let out her breath in relief. “That’s ridiculous.” Her voice rang with sincerity.

“You’re hiding something, and I’ll dig until I find it.” Amber was furious. “Then you’ll slink out of here in disgrace.”

Diana watched the enraged realtor stride back to her cubicle.
What am I going to do about her? I can’t let her steal this chance from me because of her jealousy.

She slipped back into the conference room. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton. I’ve selected some properties for us to view online as the first step. I can even use Google Earth to show you the neighborhoods. Would you like some coffee before we get started?”  

  * * * * *

As Diana guided the elderly couple through online tours of possible properties for them to view in person, her mind wandered. Earlier in her career as an exotic dancer, she’d assumed the persona of Diana the Huntress, from Greek mythology. She’d stride on stage in a little sparkly silver outfit, and a silver bow and arrow. She’d pretend to get her spectators in her sights. When the customers thought it was funny to change the H in Huntress to a C, she had hastily changed her stage persona.
I could shoot Amber with my arrow and solve that problem for good.

Using the wireless keyboard to operate the computer with one hand and taking notes on her tablet with the other, Diana inwardly perked up.
Maybe Marisa would have some ideas about Amber.
Diana sighed as she thought of the other woman.
She loved Marisa like a sister.

Marisa had patronized the club when she was in the depths of out-of-control drinking. The professional-by-day and carouser-by-night Marisa had loved the elements of exhibitionism. She’d been a junkie high on adrenaline and attention as she’d strutted through the club in her miniscule skirt and high heels, dragging male attention in her wake.

Diana and Marisa had entered into their unlikely friendship when a customer had tried to get rough with Diana as she was walking through the club between sets. Marisa had been seated nearby. Andre the club bouncer was on his way, but Diana didn’t think he was going to make it in time to save her from the drunken patron. As the man pivoted to take a vicious swing at Diana, Marisa had managed to trip the drunken customer.

Unlike most other men and women who knew about Diana’s night job, Marisa treated her with respect and as an equal. When she’d said she was sick of using drugs and alcohol to numb her pain, Marisa had helped her get into treatment. Later, when she’d told Marisa she was thinking of studying real estate and getting her license, her friend had encouraged her and helped her study.

Then Marisa’s brother was murdered right in front of her by a man Marisa had trusted and in whom she’d confided her deepest and darkest secrets. The combination of murder and betrayal had sent Marisa over the edge.

To add to Marisa’s agony, she’d discovered soon after her brother’s death that Althea had betrayed her. Marisa’s former teacher was the only one to reach out to her when she’d been an abused and neglected child. Marisa’s love for Althea had deep roots in her battered soul, and the older woman had returned the love with interest.

Now, Marisa and Althea were estranged. Althea had used Marisa’s childhood deprivation in her books. Althea had written the books under a pen name, without telling Marisa. Parvis Stidham, unscrupulous online investigative reporter, had dug up the information on Althea and used it to hurt Marisa. 

Marisa was her friend and she was hurting. They had the shared pain of addiction issues and getting on the rocky path to sobriety.  With the recent events in her life, Marisa was acting out. She had gotten drunk. Sheriff Creature had nearly kidnapped her. Diana shivered. What if he had succeeded in spiriting Marisa from the club, and then he’d decided he couldn’t let her go when he’d finished with her?

The Stanton’s story was another example of estrangement among people who loved one another. Diana wondered if the elderly couple and their pain had been sent to her as a sign.
I need to wave my magic arrow and fix the problem between Marisa and Althea.

     * * * * *

“You used cruel trickery to get us here to the dancing club and now you’re threatening us with a bow and arrow.” Althea straightened to her full height. The top of her head, the black hair streaked with silver, didn’t even meet the cloaked, Amazonian shoulder of the younger woman standing next to her. Althea’s spine was ramrod straight under the elegant black silk blouse, long-sleeved and high-necked in defiance of the unseasonably warm autumn. Flickering candlelight caught her treasured cameo, pinned at her regal throat.

“Please have a seat at the table on the dancing stage, Mrs. Flaxton.” The glittering silver of the cloak caught the flickering light from the thick candles marking the corners of the cloth-covered table as Diana helped the elderly woman up the few steps to the stage. Her solemn face framed by her hood, she pulled out a chair with a flourish.

She turned to the man waiting below. “Mr. Napier, please join Mrs. Flaxton at the table.”

Clay waved away Diana’s assisting hand. “When we received your frantic message that you were in trouble, Miss… Diana, and to meet you here at the club, we answered the summons as quickly as possible. We feared there’d been another killing here.”

“What’s going on here?” Dreamus Camden appeared from the shadows, a uniformed police officer at his heels like a faithful spaniel.

Clay Napier grasped Althea’s thin shoulder. “I didn’t see you in the darkness, Lieutenant Camden. Why are you here? And who is with you?”

“My newest officer, Josh Landis, and I were on patrol, when I saw Mrs. Flaxton and Mr. Napier sneaking into the closed club. Last spring, Zoe, Goth Girl and former dancer, was murdered. Then during the summer, Sarah, also an exotic dancer, was killed. When I saw my favorite amateur detectives slipping inside, I thought for sure we had an autumn dancer killing. It would keep the seasons of murder pattern complete.”

“What the hell? Is this a bizarre séance to raise the restless spirits of dead strippers?” Tara’s voice echoed through the empty club as she moved quickly through the scattered tables, chairs, and deserted stages, impatiently dragging Marisa behind her. In the dim light of the candles, Tara’s long blonde curls cascaded across her shoulders like a mermaid’s tresses in cloudy seawater and seemed to merge with her pale suit jacket and short skirt. Marisa’s dark hair, free of its normal braid, waved down her back like inky tentacles in the ocean’s depths.

Officer Landis pinned the two women in the glare of his flashlight. He moved closer. “You’re Wanda Bra Woman. She adds, or used to add, color to the lower tier wrestling shows in this area.”

Tara clapped her hands. “Marisa, you’re a celebrity!”

“Tara and Marisa, please join us at the table.” Diana raised her arms, the shining cloak folds trailing like exotic fins.

“Officer, what do you think about all of this?” Dreamus sounded like a professor quizzing a student.

“The club’s closed,” he answered. “It’s not allowed to open on Sundays, because of the Blue Laws. These people can’t be here.”

“What else?” Dreamus crossed his arms.

“They need to blow out those candles.” Officer Landis determinedly strode toward the dimly-lit stage. “They’re not just a fire risk. They can also release toxins in the air.” As he walked, he dug in his pocket. “Wait a moment, and I’ll look it up for everyone on Wikipedia.”

Diana reached into the shadowy folds of her cloak. “Stop right there or I’ll shoot.” She held up her silver bow and arrow. She aimed the shining point of the arrow at the officer’s heart. Her slim hand was perfectly steady. The only movement was the flutter of a long, silver feather trailing from the arrow.

Officer Landis’ free hand touched the weapon at his hip.

Dreamus touched the officer’s stiff arm. “Landis. That gun should be your last resort, not your first option. Use your brain first.”

Diana lowered her arrow. “Officer—uh, Landis, and Lieutenant Camden, I don’t have seats for you lawmen, but you may stay below the stage if you keep quiet.”

“Stay here, Landis.” Dreamus glided to the shadows. “I’m going to check the building and make sure no one else is here.”

“Diana, what are you up to?” Marisa shook off Tara’s hand and stomped up the stairs. She lost some of the desired effect when her sneakers didn’t make any noise. Her blouse and her jeans appeared black in the flickering light, and her face was a pale, angry oval. She jerked out the seat next to Clay. Tara scooted in next to her.

“I am Diana the Huntress. I am concerning myself with your earthly affairs this evening.”

Officer Landis’ face was smooth angles and planes in the dim light of his phone. “According to Wikipedia, ‘the celestial character of Diana is reflected in her connection with light, inaccessibility, virginity, and her preference for dwelling on high mountains and in sacred woods…’

“The page also states: ‘Diana reflects the heavenly world in its sovereignty, supremacy, impassibility, and indifference toward such secular matters as the fates of mortals and states. She does help ensure the preservation of humankind through the protection of childbirth.’ Hmmm…”