An Uplifting Murder (25 page)

Josie remembered her monster heating bill. Sorry, Angela, she mentally told her stylist. I have a utility giant to feed.

“Cheap Chic promises customers will never wait more than fifteen minutes for high style,” Harry said. “The main office wants you to drop by either today or tomorrow and test the wait time.”

“With my head?” Josie said.

“What’s the problem? They guarantee a high-style cut or your money back.”

“I’m mystery-shopping this salon. Isn’t headquarters paying for my haircut anyway?” Josie said. “If I get a bad cut, how do I get my money back?”

“Jeez louise, do you want the job or not? First I got you and your friend new underwear. Now you get a free New York haircut. If you don’t like the cut, write a report and get the stylist fired. It’s just hair. It will grow back.”

It won’t grow back on your bald head, Josie wanted to say. But Harry had slammed down the phone. Just as well, she thought.

Amelia emerged damp from the shower and still stinking of prom perfume.

“What do you think, Mom?” she asked.

“A couple more showers might drown out the perfume,” Josie said. “Tell Grandma hi for me. I have to run to the store. We’ll talk about dinner when I get back. Go straight upstairs.”

Outside, the air felt fresh and crisp after Amelia’s penetrating perfume. Josie breathed it in gratefully, taking deep lungfuls of carbon monoxide-laden air. Then she held her breath.

What was that on her car? Something red was spattered on the windshield.

It looked like someone had upended a strawberry shake. No, it was darker. Maybe cranberry. Or a raspberry drink. Except it didn’t smell like raspberry.

Josie examined the gunk frozen on her windshield, then picked off a piece and sniffed it.

This wasn’t a fresh-fruit smell.

It was raw and harsh. An iron scent, like . . . blood.

Cold blood.

Someone had thrown blood on her windshield.

Chapter 26

Officer Doris Ann Norris studied the blood on Josie’s windshield like a collector examining a rare find. The afternoon light was fading and she used her flashlight.

“Less than a cup of blood,” the officer said. “Doesn’t look like an arterial spurt.” Norris was a fit thirty. She was tall, but everything else—from her brown hair to her fingernails—was short and practical.

“Is that good?” Josie asked.

“For the victim,” Officer Norris said. “Cut an artery and you’re dead unless you get medical attention fast.”

“Then no one was murdered?” Josie didn’t bother hiding her relief.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Officer Norris said. “An injury with low blood loss can still be fatal. Any blood drips down the side of your car?”

She shone her flashlight on the driver’s door. The patrol officer’s leather gun belt creaked when she bent for a closer look at the car. “Ah, it is a murder,” she said. “The body is under your car.”

Josie grabbed the fender for support and braced herself for a new horror. Officer Norris reached under the car and pulled out a bloody mass of gray feathers.

“It looks like a pigeon,” she said, aiming the flashlight at the bird. “Look at this left wing here. I think the pigeon was injured, possibly hit by a car. Someone took the dying bird and splashed its blood on your windshield.”

Josie’s stomach turned. “That’s so cruel.”

“It is,” Officer Norris said. “I’m no fan of pigeons. You won’t believe how they mess up my patrol car. Nothing but flying rats. I’d like to see them all dead.” She seemed to be aware of the gathering crowd. She added, “In a humane way, of course.”

“Absolutely,” Josie agreed.

“Well, now we know that there’s no human victim, this is a lot easier,” Officer Norris said. “Looks like a nasty prank. Someone got it in for you?”

“No,” Josie said.

“What about your boyfriend?”

“Ted and I are just fine,” Josie said. “My former boyfriend Stan lives in that house right there. His fiancée’s blue VW Bug is in the driveway. They’re getting married. I’m out of that picture.”

“How about the boyfriends before him?” Officer Norris asked.

“Mike and I parted on good terms.” And his ex is in jail, Josie thought. She didn’t mention the man before Mike, who’d supplemented his income with drug dealing. She was still trying to forget Josh. Josie knew she’d made some bad choices when it came to men, but she dumped them as soon as she found out they were seriously flawed. Just as well not to mention Josh to the police. She hadn’t seen him in months, anyway. Maybe he’d found a new way to make extra money.

“Know anybody mixed up in Santeria?” Officer Norris asked.

“What?” Josie asked.

“Santeria. It’s a Caribbean religion. They make animal sacrifices.”

“In Maplewood?” Josie didn’t bother hiding her disbelief.

“You’d be surprised,” Officer Norris said.

Josie could see trouble coming straight at her. Mrs. Mueller marched across the lawn in her Russian-winter outfit, moving through the yard like a snowplow.

“Absolutely nothing would surprise me, Officer,” Mrs. Mueller said, loudly. “I’ve lived next to this young woman since she was nine years old. The things I could tell you. I saw this whole incident.”

“What incident, ma’am?” Officer Norris asked. She looked deceptively wide-eyed, like Amelia.

“The bird. I saw the woman who did it.” Mrs. Mueller puffed herself out like a giant pigeon. “I can describe her, too. She was wearing dark gloves, a dark coat, and a black-and-white scarf. Josie has a scarf just like it.”

“Are you saying Ms. Marcus vandalized her own car?”

“No, this woman was bigger than Josie.”

“How much bigger?”

“She was taller and bigger around.”

“As big as you?”

“I wouldn’t say I am big,” Mrs. Mueller said. “Stately would be more accurate. This was a generously built woman.”

“Could you tell her race?”

“She was a white woman,” Mrs. M said.

“Young? Old?” Officer Norris said.

“I couldn’t tell. I didn’t get a good look at her face.”

“Blonde, brunette, or redhead?” Officer Norris asked.

“She had brown bangs. Ordinary brown. Josie’s color, I think. The rest of her hair was hidden by the scarf. But she was carrying a box, a pink shoe box. She took the lid off and I saw something flapping inside the box.”

“You saw this from your living room?” Officer Norris sounded skeptical.

“I was upstairs in my bedroom. I’d been napping, but I was awakened by a sound of some sort.”

Right, Josie thought. Mrs. Mueller spent every afternoon watching who went up and down the street and whether the person walked, drove, or rode a cycle. Her description was so detailed, Josie wondered if Mrs. M used binoculars to spy on the neighborhood.

“I woke up suddenly and went to my window,” Mrs. Mueller said. “The sun was out. I watched the woman take the lid off the box. I could look down and see inside. There was a creature bleeding and flapping, like a wounded bird. The woman sort of squeezed it over the windshield, wringing out the blood.”

Josie hissed in horror. Even a pigeon didn’t deserve that.

“Then she threw the bird under the car and left,” Mrs. Mueller said. “She must have heard the black car.”

“What black car, ma’am?” Officer Norris asked.

“It was a black Lexus. The driver was a woman and she had several young girls inside. One of them was Josie’s daughter, Amelia. They were driving with the windows rolled down and it’s cold out.”

“Yes, I know that, ma’am,” the police officer said. “The woman in the black coat who painted this windshield with bird blood—did you get a look at her car?”

“She didn’t drive. She walked here. I saw her come from the west. She went back that way and around the corner.” Mrs. Mueller pointed in that direction.

The officer followed her wool-gloved hand. “The sidewalk is shoveled and salted,” Norris said. “There’s no way we can get footprints. You saw this person squeezing blood from a wounded bird on a windshield and you didn’t call the police?”

“It didn’t look like a police matter,” Mrs. Mueller said.

“It was an act of animal cruelty, ma’am. You should have reported it.”

“Well, it was just a pigeon.” Mrs. Mueller was deflating like a week-old balloon.

“You do understand that killers enjoy acts of animal cruelty?”

“No,” Mrs. Mueller said. “I don’t associate with killers.”

“You didn’t warn your neighbor that someone had vandalized her ride?”

“No,” Mrs. Mueller said. A touch of malice tinged her voice. “I can’t keep track of everything Josie does. She has so many men in and out of her house. Men who are not of the highest character and reputation. Neither is Josie. She’s not married and she has a child out of wedlock. The father of her child was a drug dealer.”

“He was pardoned,” Josie said.

“He still spent time in a foreign jail,” Mrs. Mueller said, firmly. “The father of her child died on that very front porch.”

“He was murdered,” Josie said. “He was poisoned. The killer is in jail.”

“I seem to remember that incident,” Officer Norris said.

“Well, then, you understand my problem, Officer,” Mrs. Mueller said. “That’s why I don’t associate with Josie Marcus. With the caliber of people she knows, it’s hard to tell what’s out of the ordinary at her place. Do you want me to come down to the station and sign a statement?”

“Thank you, ma’am, but no,” Officer Norris said. “You witnessed an act of animal cruelty and vandalism. You saw nothing useful. You failed to warn your neighbor or call the authorities. You let a potentially dangerous person go free. I won’t take up any more of your time. If I need a statement, I’ll contact you.”

Mrs. Mueller slunk off to her home. Josie heard the older woman’s front door slam, then saw her mother and Amelia running toward her.

“Josie!” Jane cried. “Are you all right?”

“She’s fine, ma’am,” Officer Norris said, holding up her hand like a traffic cop’s to stop Jane. “I need to ask her one more thing. Then you can take her inside to warm up.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Officer Norris said to Josie. Her eyes were watchful.

“No,” Josie said. She didn’t want to tell the police about her private investigation.The cops were clueless.They had the wrong person in jail. Those two Venetia Park detectives had never even found the mysterious blonde in the wheelchair.

I did that, Josie thought. Alyce cleverly established that the shoplifter was telling the truth with a phone call. I must be getting somewhere. I’m close to solving this. I can do it on my own.

“I find that hard to believe,” Officer Norris said, as if she’d heard Josie’s thoughts.

Josie’s eyes shifted. The cop knew she was lying.

“Here’s my card,” the police officer said. “When you’re ready to talk, call me. If anyone threatens you, call 911. Watch out for your daughter. Whoever is after you may decide your daughter is the way to hurt you. If you get a message from this person, let me know, hear?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

She already had the message. She was a dead pigeon.

Chapter 27