Taking the Fall (7 page)

“You were knocked out, but I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to bother you, so I went downstairs and opened up the studio—the dojo. I was visualizing, you know? Ruth left a couple of benches behind, and I was experimenting with which wall to put them on for the parents to watch, thinking about where the kids should take off their shoes, whether we should put a desk or a table up in front to sit down with potential students … and then I heard the sirens. And saw the lights. The patrol car stopped right outside the front door. I came out to see what was wrong, and they told me I needed to come to the station right away. They said something had happened to Ellison. I was confused. Why were they notifying
me?
But I wanted to help, so I went.”

She picked one of the pink rhododendron blossoms from the bush next to the bench and absently twirled it in her fingers. “I was the last one to see Ellison alive. Everyone in town said so. But I didn’t know that yet, then. The police didn’t even tell me he was dead until they’d grilled me about where I’d been and when. Over and over … ” Her twirling fingers flicked too hard, and the blossom flew onto the ground.

I picked it up and tucked it behind her ear. She gave me a little smile. “And then?” I prompted.

“And then they showed me the brush. They asked me if it looked familiar. I told them I had one like it, in my purse. But then I dumped out my whole purse, right there on the table. And it was gone.”

“How did your brush get in Ellison’s house?”

“I didn’t go over there! I wouldn’t go into a guy’s house, who I just met, all alone. I don’t even know where he lives!”

No, she wouldn’t. Blythe might not have a good sense for judging guys, she might lose her head a little when it came to them, but her practical side wouldn’t go so far as to let her do such a clearly stupid thing as that.

“There’s only one explanation.”

Blythe eyed me expectantly.

“Someone set you up.”

“Who would
do
that?”

“A crazy mom who blames us for Miss Ruth leaving?”

“Or Crazy Eric. Anyone could’ve taken it out of my bag at the dojo last night. And he looked like he wanted to kill you. Maybe he thought it was your hairbrush. But why not just go after you directly then?”

“Crazy is crazy … but to kill some innocent person just to get rid of us?” I straightened up. “Maybe Ellison wasn’t some innocent person!”

“Brenna!” My sister said, in that shocked, whispery gasp that reminded me of our mother. “The man is dead. Must you insist on him being a scumbag?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Although there was the strong possibility that he
was
a scumbag. “The killer must have had some other reason for killing him, not simply to blame us. But because they don’t like us being here, they have no qualms about casting the blame our way.”

Blythe gulped. “Two birds with one stone.”

“Yup. In a twisted way, it makes sense. And it will help us narrow our search.”

“Our search?”

“Of course. We have to figure out who did this to Ellison, and to us. We can’t count on the cops to do it, not when they think they have the smoking gun … ah … hairbrush.”

Blythe finally laughed a little at that, though a new spurt of tears and sniffles came along with it. “You know, I really liked that brush.”

It was good to see her let go of some of the tension. I returned her laugh.

“Maybe we should stay here for a while,” Blythe said.

“In Bonney Bay?”

“Here.” She patted the bench. “Brenna, I gave the police permission to search the apartment. They have my key. They’re probably on their way now.”

“You what? They need a warrant, and you need a lawyer!”

“I’m not under arrest, and I’m not going to be, once they see that I have nothing to hide.”

“Blythe!”

“We are not spending your savings on attorneys. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I have faith in the system. It will work out as long as I cooperate and show them I’m innocent. Maybe it wasn’t even my hairbrush. It could’ve been one just like it. Maybe when they search our apartment, they’ll find mine.”

We sat there in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then I said, “I wonder who called the police? I mean, how did they even find the body so quickly?”

“A neighbor heard screams and called 9-1-1. I don’t know who it was. They wouldn’t tell me. By the time they got there, Ellison was dead and the killer was gone.”

“Didn’t they wonder how you got back to the studio so fast? Does Ellison live that close?”

Blythe pulled out a tissue she’d stashed in her pocket and blew her nose as she shook her head. “I don’t know. All the neighbors came out when they heard the sirens and the commotion. They started talking about who’d seen Ellison tonight and who he was with. Eventually it came out that I was the last person known to be with him.”

I stood up and began to pace the deck. And that’s when I saw the zig-zag of unlit wooden stairs and landings leading down the hill, into the darkness. To what? I squinted, but couldn’t make out where they ended up. The wind picked up a bit, and I shivered. Somewhere down there, beyond the deck railing, the leaves rustled, and a new kind of chill froze me in place. The stairs might’ve been inviting in the daylight—or even just on another night. When there wasn’t a killer on the loose. Why hadn’t I thought of that? He or she could be anywhere. Right here, watching us! In the alley, in the shadows of the ivy and rhododendrons around the deck. There were shadows all around us. Shadows, everywhere. Another gust of wind brought a smattering of fine raindrops. I grabbed Blythe’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go. We should probably keep an eye on those guys while they go through our things, anyway.”

I kept my voice as steady as I could, but I couldn’t help glancing back and forth, looking for the killer. The killer, who might just be after us. Armed, this time, with more than just a hairbrush.

10

After a few hours of fitful sleep, I woke to the sunshine streaming through the frothy curtains Miss Ruth had left behind. Riggins and that skinny Tony guy had gone through our apartment quickly and efficiently. They’d left with nothing but hair and fingerprint samples and Blythe’s laptop. I didn’t give them permission to rifle through any of my things. I got the impression they were looking for bloody clothes Blythe might have secretly changed into and then back out of, or something really obvious like that. Since Blythe was still wearing the same clothes she’d had on after the judo practice at the PAL, she’d changed and surrendered those to the police so they could have forensics experts check them for traces of evidence.

Blythe was curled up in her sleeping bag next to mine, her eyes still puffy from crying. I tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep. I could really use the rest. Besides, the idea of getting up and facing everything I’d gotten us into in the last twenty-four hours put my stomach in knots. But my stomach growled loudly, declaring that it was not only in knots, but very, very empty.

I obeyed my stomach and stumbled into the kitchen. I opened the empty refrigerator and stared at its lone occupant—a box of baking soda. I don’t know what I was thinking—that eggs and bacon and orange juice would have magically materialized overnight?

The only food in this place was a half-empty can of Blythe’s low fat Pringles. We didn’t even have any coffee.
 
By the time I washed my face and brushed my hair, Blythe was up. I offered to head out alone in search of caffeine and sugar, but Blythe wouldn’t have it.

“We need to go about our lives. I know we have to deal with what happened last night, but we can’t let it get in our way. This is going to be our new home.” She smiled bravely.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to dwell on it right now. I want to get this place together so we can get open for business.”

And I wanted breakfast. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get some groceries.”

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

While I waited for Blythe, I did a little research on Ellison Baxter. So far, no mention of his death online. It looked like he’d grown up in Bonney Bay. I found a mother and sister on his social media. They listed Bonney Bay as their home towns, but were both currently living in Florida. He wrote for the
Bonney Bay Blaster
, a local paper that seemed to have just gone digital only. That couldn’t possibly pay all his bills. I did some more digging, and found that he freelanced as a technical writer. Why had his family left Bonney Bay? Why had Ellison stayed?

True to Blythe’s word, in ten minutes we were on our way to the town’s general store, the Cherry Bowl. It sported a sort of Old West style facade and was painted spring green and accented with bright red awnings. Though my mind was strictly on food, Blythe insisted we get all the essentials while we we here—toilet paper, detergent, etc. And of course it only made sense to start with the non-perishables first. Besides, Blythe knew me well enough to understand that once I had the bacon in the cart, it would be a battle to keep me from checking out as fast as I could and running home to fry it. I could already smell the sizzling goodness.

I tried not to think about bacon and reached for a jumbo pack of toilet paper instead.

“Just get a small one, Bren. We’re on a budget.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We can’t afford to pay these small-town store prices for everything. There’s a Costco twenty miles from here. We’ll make a big trip once we’re settled in.”

Of course Blythe had done her research. It was so good to see her acting like her put-together self again. I cheerfully filled the cart with little essentials as she read and checked them off a list on her smartphone. I dropped a stick of deodorant in the cart and looked over my shoulder at Blythe. “Next?”

She just stared straight ahead at the rows of haircare supplies. Oh, crud. There was a purple hairbrush, just like the one—

“Excuse me, Miss?”

We both jumped practically out of our skin. Blythe even gave a little yelp. A plump, middle-aged lady wearing a lime green polo shirt and a black apron embroidered with the store logo, a cluster of cherries, said, “Are you Blythe Battle?”

Blythe’s eyes darted from the hairbrush to the store clerk, her expression one of guilt and terror. I quickly stepped in front of her. “I’m Brenna Battle,” I said firmly. “And this is my sister, Blythe.”

“Amy, it
is
her!” the clerk shouted down the aisle.

A younger clerk hurried breathlessly around the corner into the aisle. Blythe and I shook hands dumbly as the older woman introduced herself as Millie Brown, the owner of the store. The younger one—just a girl, really—was Amy Winebauer. Before I could get a grip on what was going on, and why they were so enthusiastic about finding my sister in their store—were the police looking for her? Did they want to take her back in?—Millie said, “You were the last one to see Ellison alive, right? What happened to him?”

“Uh, we really wouldn’t want to speculate,” I said.

“Oh, right. Until his family gets informed and all that.”

I nodded enthusiastically. They didn’t seem to know the police had already determined Ellison had been brutally murdered.

“I—I wasn’t there when he—when he . . .” Blythe’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Millie put an arm around her shoulders. “You poor thing! What a welcome to a new town!”

Amy nodded sympathetically. “His poor mother. I wonder if DeeDee even knows yet?”

“She’s not here?” I said, as if I didn’t know.

Millie said, “No, when her daughter, Stephanie, moved to Florida and had a baby, DeeDee followed. I guess she didn’t think she was getting a grand-baby out of Ellison any time soon.”

“It’s so sad,” Amy said. “Now she never will. And I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it comes out that his death was suspicious.”

I tried to make my face blank. Were they looking for a reaction? Fishing for information? Manipulating us with pretended concern?

“You wouldn’t?” Blythe said.

“After what he did to Stacey?” Amy said. “If she did him in, well, I’m not saying it’s right, but what woman wouldn’t understand that, you know?”

I exchanged a glance with Blythe. “What did he do to Stacey?”

“Come on, Amy, they’re new in town,” Millie said. “Don’t spoil Bonney Bay for them with a bunch of gossip.”

I waved my hand nonchalantly. “Every town has its gossip. We wouldn’t judge Bonney Bay on it.”
And I wouldn’t want to stop you from spilling the beans. Not if it could help keep my sister out of jail and save us all from the real killer
, I thought.

“I think we just landed right in the middle of it anyway,” Blythe added. “Would that be Stacey Goode?”

Millie nodded. “Oh, have you met Stacey already?”

“She was at the recital and party yesterday.” Blythe put on a winsome smile.

“Of course! Ruth said you two were coming to the party. She was so excited. We both had to work, so we missed it.”

“So … ” I ventured, “Stacey and Ellison?”

“He dumped her,” Amy said. “Like yesterday’s garbage.”

I tried my best to look concerned and sad for poor Stacey, instead of jumping up and down and saying,
Yes! I should’ve known!
That explained the dose of extra-strength witchy-ness she’d dished out. Ellison had been all over Blythe during the party. If Stacey was crazy jealous like that, it could explain even more—like Ellison’s murder.

“Were they together long?” Blythe said. I caught the suppressed anger mixed with excitement in Blythe’s polite tone.

“Well, they weren’t physically together long,” Millie said.

Amy snickered.

Millie reddened. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stacey lived in San Antonio. She met Ellison online.”

“While she was still married,” Amy added. “He told her he loved her, and she left her husband—”

Millie jumped in. “Her little boy, Leo’s, father!”

“For Ellison,” Amy continued. “She moved out here, expecting to get married and live happily ever after in Bonney Bay. It never occurred to her that she was just one of a long line of women Ellison liked to string along.”

“It never occurred to any of us. Ellison was good at keeping things quiet. Stacey was the beginning of the unravelling of his web of lies,” Millie said.