Bloodstone (12 page)

We think of him as Deputy Dawg. He thinks he’s Clint Eastwood.

He was playing with one of those paddleballs and he couldn’t keep the thing in the air for more than two whacks. There was a stun gun in his holster where an actual gun should have been. I’m not clear as to the true version of the story, but it was rumored that Gus shot himself in the ass about a year ago. I didn’t want to think about how that was even possible.

He chased the ball down the hall just as the door swept shut behind me.

The entryway of the station house was divided in half by a short, wooden wall, a swinging gate the only barrier between the lobby and the dispatcher. I didn’t recognize the woman behind the counter. She must have replaced Betty, which was okay by me. Betty had a lot of laughs at my expense. Mostly due to my unfortunate knack for stumbling across dead bodies.

At least this time, I wasn’t the one who found it first.

“Hello,” I said.

She raised a finger to let me know she’d be with me in a minute. She seemed to be fielding a call about a UFO sighting.

“That big, eh? Hovered right outside your window, you say? Was it round? Uh-huh,” she said. She was in her sixties, plump, bouffant hairdo and press-on nails. Her reading glasses were attached to a thin chain that was lost in the cleavage of her pink sweater.

“Okey-dokey. Say, did you get Violet’s invitation? Yep. I know. Her kids look more like that neighbor than her husband.” She cackled and a snort escaped.

“Excuse me?” I said, louder this time.

Yet again, she held up one, expertly pressed-on nail longer than a carving knife.

“Oh, sure, yeah, that could be. Uh-huh.”

I tapped my foot to keep myself from planting it in her ass.

She sent me an unapologetic look and continued her conversation. “You know, I don’t doubt it. I think I’ve seen one myself. Oh sure.”

Then she had the nerve to spin around, her back to me, and put a foot up on the half wall.

“Big as the moon it was. Yep.”

There was a bell on her desk that said
ring for service
so I did. Repeatedly.

DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!

She sighed with disgust. “Hold on a minute, Martha.”

“Stop that now. Can’t you see I’m on the phone? Where are your manners?” she snapped, dangling the receiver.

“Is that a citizen complaint?”

I could hear Martha bust out laughing on the other end. Miss Press-On spat into the receiver, “Did you hear that, Martha? As if you would make an Official complaint!” Pause. “I know. Can you believe the nerve?”

In a small town, stories take on a life of their own. Needless to say, there are several versions still floating around Amethyst regarding what happened next. In my defense, my mother was apparently missing, I just found out I had a sister, there was a dead guy in the kitchen of my grandmother’s house and I had skipped breakfast. But I would like to go on record stating that I have never struck a woman twice my age.

I pounced on the desk and yanked the phone from her chubby hand. She jerked in surprise and with her foot on the rail, the shift in weight sent the chair wobbling. She shrieked as I put the receiver to my ear and said, sweet as sugar, “Hello? Martha? Yeah, she’ll have to call you back.” Then I slammed the phone down.

I filled my lungs with air and said, “Now, I would like some assistance, please.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but the chair was coming to a halt. She looked at me in horror. “Gus!” she shouted over her shoulder. She didn’t take her eyes off me.

Gus strolled up to the desk then, took one look at me and bolted.

“Gus! You little weasel! Get back here!” I shouted.

Miss Bouffant swiveled her head from side to side, not sure what to do.

“I’m going in,” I said to her.

She nodded.

I swung through the little gate and ran around the corner full throttle. Unfortunately, I smashed into Leo and bounced off him like a bullet off Superman’s chest.

“Jesus! Are you okay?” He asked, bending down to help me. “I heard Stella calling Gus. Thought something was wrong.”

“Thank you.” I stood, stepped away from him. “Why isn’t he at the B&B right now anyway collecting evidence or at least getting in the way of someone else collecting evidence?”

“I asked the Sheriff’s department to partner on this one. The county medical examiner would have to process the body anyway since the coroner passed away.”

Leo must have seen that I was upset, because he didn’t offer a lecture on my choice to leave Birdie’s house after a guest had permanently checked out. He also didn’t ask how I escaped a man twice my size. With handcuffs.

“Your grandmother is down the hall. She’s just finishing up her statement. Come on.” Leo put a hand on my back, guiding me through a long corridor.

“Don’t touch me.”

He dropped his arm.

“You didn’t have to come down here, Stacy. You know she’s in good hands.”

I knew she had a big mouth.

I said, “She should have a lawyer.”

“For what? She isn’t accused of anything, and from what John told me, my guess is the guy got in a bar fight, got a little blood on his shirt, passed out at the kitchen table this morning and had a heart attack. He was still tipping the drinks when we left. I saw the stunt he pulled yesterday with that knife through the neck, so my guess is he was still at it this morning.”

“You think so?”

Leo gave me a warm smile and nodded. “Birdie insisted on coming down here to personally tell me everything she knows. Probably to keep me away from you.”

I don’t know how it happened, but an irrational bitch took possession of my mouth. “Well can you blame her?”

Leo turned to me, his upper lip curved in that way it does when he’s confused. “What exactly is your problem? You broke it off with me, remember?”

The bitch wasn’t backing down. Now she had control over my hands. She wagged a finger at Leo. “And YOU just couldn’t wait to climb aboard that silicon-stuffed herpes ride could you?”

“What the hell are you talking about? YOU are the one who shacked up with your old boy toy about five minutes after you dumped me!”

“ENOUGH!”

We both turned to face Birdie. I hadn’t realized we had made it all the way down the hallway. Crap, did she hear that last part about shacking up with Chance?

She relaxed her face, straightened out her blouse and gave us both ‘the look.’ “I should think that two grown adults who claim to have cared for one another at some point could have a civilized conversation without getting into a shouting match.”

Oh, please. The woman has been divorced for thirty years and still uses my grandfather as her personal tongue sharpener.

“Sorry,” Leo grumbled.

“Suck-up,” I mumbled.

Birdie cleared her throat.

“I mean, sorry,” I said.

“Better. Now come on, I don’t have all day.” She held the door open and we both entered the room.

Leo pulled a chair out for me and I sat down. He took a seat across from me and Birdie settled in the chair next to me.

Leo glanced down at the paperwork, read through it. “Mrs. Geraghty, I think I have everything I need here from you. Look it over one more time before you sign.” He slid the page across to her. “The rest of your guests and your sisters will be questioned, of course, and if by some long shot the knife—plastic or otherwise—turns out to be the cause of death we can just take your fingerprints, rule them out, and that should clear things up on your end.” He looked at her. “Please, next time something unusual happens, just wait for us to get there.”

Birdie ignored that part. “You will handle this with discretion.”

Wasn’t really a question.

Leo said, “You have my word that we’ll do our best. We’ll need to sweep the room Mr. Sayer booked and hopefully find some contact information to notify his family.” He handed Birdie a pen.

“May I see the statement?” I asked.

Birdie passed the paper to me.

Leo said, “If you want we can take your prints now and we shouldn’t need to bother you further.”

“Oh, they’re on file.” I regretted the words immediately. He may never have had to know that. Leo sat back. “They are?”

Birdie sighed. “Yes, apparently test driving an automobile is a crime.”

“It is when you drive it out of state,” I said.

Her voice gained an octave. “I had to take it on the highway. How else to know if a car runs well.”

“For six hours?”

Leo stood up, “Okay then. I think we’re done here.”

I was still scanning the statement. Birdie had said earlier Sayer helped himself to the coffee, but here it just indicated there was a coffee cup in front of him when she entered the kitchen. She assumed he was playing dead again. She didn’t mention sticking a prop knife in his back, but how could he have done that himself? And how could it have stayed there if it was just a prop knife? Unless he took his shirt off first and glued it to the fabric. Her version stated that she didn’t recall seeing the knife until Fiona and I pointed out that he was still in her kitchen.

I looked at Birdie who stood, ready to leave, and decided to ask her a few questions myself in private. Like had she left the kitchen at any time? Perhaps she had made a trip into the fruit cellar before I got there? That might have given someone enough time to slip into the kitchen undetected.

The phone buzzed then and the gate guard with the Press-On nails said, “I have someone on the line here for Stacy Justice.”

I checked my phone. No bars. Ironic, I know.

“His name is Chance,” she said.

Leo slid back noisily and stood up. “I’ll see you out, Mrs. Geraghty.” He walked around and whispered in my ear. “I’m not seeing her. She kissed me to get under your skin.”

“Didn’t work,” I lied.

He flashed a look I couldn’t read, then guided Birdie out the door.

I had no intention of telling him his assumption about Chance was anything less than accurate. Let him wonder.

I picked up the receiver and punched the blinking button.

“This is Stacy.”

“Hey, Stace. Your phone was going right to voice mail and Fiona said you were at the police station. Everything ok?”

I really didn’t want to get into the whole scenario at the moment so I told him it was.

“Listen I...found something.” His voice had an edge to it. Nervous? Excited? “You better come to my place quick. Bring Ivy too.”

IVY GERAGHTY’S PERSONAL BOOK OF SHADOWS

by Ivy Geraghty

Entry #11

I have received word from my sister to meet her back at our hideout. What is the urgency, I wonder? Has she located The Blessed Book? Has she uncovered a sinister plot that involves our mother’s kidnapping? I make haste on foot (and not a moment too soon, because I’m pretty sure the big, white ride outside isn’t a limo for the living. I mean, RIP and all that to the dude, but the creep factor is off the charts on this one, even for me.)

-Ivy Geraghty, Junior Apprentice Warrior Goddess (in training)

THIRTY-EIGHT

I texted Ivy, asked her to meet me at Chance’s place then hurried from the police station. I didn’t see anyone on my way out and when I searched the parking lot for Birdie, I discovered she hadn’t bothered to wait. That was okay by me, frankly. There were still unanswered questions floating around my mind. Like why had she rushed to the police station? Was Sayer animated when she first saw him? How often had she left the kitchen? But I feared she had a few questions for me too, and since I wasn’t ready to explain the lie about taking a trip, nor was I ready to explain Ivy and my missing mother, I decided it could wait.

The sun was bright, melting the snow into muddy puddles as I walked to Chance’s house. My leg was beginning to throb from the wound—the wound courtesy of a crowbar-wielding maniac. Just when I was wishing I had a car, Derek Meyers, the photographer for the Amethyst Globe, pulled up alongside me.