Dead Women Tell No Lies (2 page)

From Main Street, he turned into the shopping plaza that edged the abandoned railroad tracks. He cruised down the fire lane, circling around the back of the two anchor stores, Babyland and Jumbo Mart. The New Hampshire Liquor Store stood on the side of the lot, tempting buyers with weekly specials posted in the window. As he sped past the delivery dock and over the tracks, he spotted four cruisers, an ambulance and a small crowd congregated on the hill crest. The news van for Channel 23 was parked to the side.

He flashed his dome light and drove toward the scene. The uniforms stepped in front of the gathering, pushed the gawkers back and waved him forward. He hopped out of Old Charger. While his men held the crowd away, Luke met Detective Conroy. At six foot-two, the man was one of the few on the force who could stare Luke in the eye. True to form, Conroy never wasted a second on a smile or a greeting. Today was no exception. His navy parka hung open, revealing the badge on his belt and his protruding stomach. The odor of fried onions clung to him. “Our victim is below on the bank.”

“What’s happening with the photos and measurements of the area?” Luke scanned the hilly terrain of dead grass and shrubs. “Have you separated the teens to take their stories?”

Conroy’s brown eyes flashed behind his dark framed glasses, and he raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. “We’ve done our part. We’re working on pictures, measurements and have separately interviewed the teenagers who found the body.” He put one hand on his belt and glared at Luke. “We’re capable of conducting a homicide investigation even though our city’s a lot smaller than Buffalo.”

“Good start for a homeboy,” Luke snapped. “Now cut the crap and get down to business.” Conroy refused to let go of the fact that Luke snagged the job Conroy wanted.

“Any drag marks, footprints or pieces of clothing found?” Luke asked.

“No marks or prints found near the body. The men are working the hill. The ground is too frozen to give us much. The remains of her clothes are shredded. Pieces of duct tape trussed her wrists, ankles and mouth.”

Maybe the forensics techies would connect the tape he’d found to the pieces on Miss Blue.

“It’s difficult to judge if she was assaulted,” Conroy said. “I’d guess she’s been in the water for a while and did a job on the forensics. The new ME will help us there.” Conroy shook his head. “No personal belongings found yet. Oh, and for the record, we’re videoing the scene. You did want us to do that, right, or do you do it different in the big city?”

“Listen, Conroy, do the job and save the attitude for whoever tied up the woman and disposed of her like trash.” Luke tamped down on the urge to tell Conroy off further. “If the videographer hasn’t already, have him shoot the crowd. You never know if our killer is standing around watching us.”

“Got it. Follow me.” Conroy trudged parallel to the river and stopped to speak to the slim, young man with the camera. After that, he continued with Luke downward toward the bank.

Luke’s boots thudded across the lifeless grass while the sound of the gushing river below grew louder the closer as they hiked to the waterway. His gut clenched. A few techies threw cool glances at him, the big shot detective. Many of them remembered his excitement when he left to join a “better” force.

Ahead, Conroy slowed at the edge of the gray water. Unkempt brush and litter covered the ground. An overgrown shrub wagged a warning in the breeze and bit into Luke’s pant legs. With a curse, he freed his clothing.

“Enjoying yourself, detective?” Conroy tossed over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s as much fun as watching the Yankees pound the Sox at Fenway.” Luke picked his way through the bushes to join the detective near two uniforms. By Conroy’s feet, he found the woman.

“The last break in the temperature melted most of the ice and raised the water level,” Conroy told him. “She was a floater who got caught in the brambles.”

Luke crouched beside the woman, who rested in a semi fetal position. She appeared small, about five-feet, and helpless. Her arms and legs were twisted and held prisoner in the wild rose’s thorns. A tattered white shirt lay open around her thin body, exposing bare breasts. A shredded bra was pushed up toward her throat. Her lower torso was nude, and she wore no shoes. Wet blonde hair hugged her cheeks. Tape wound around her mouth sealed in her secrets. Her open hazel eyes glistened lifelike, staring up at him. Death couldn’t hide the fact the woman had been attractive.

“Spooky, isn’t it?” Conroy grimaced. “Her eyes make her look alive. I almost expect her to try to speak.”

If only they’d found her before the scumbag left her like this. Luke swallowed the bitter taste and straightened. “Her sister mentioned a butterfly necklace when she filed the missing person’s report. Anyone locate it or come up with a reason for her to be in Ledgeview?”

“No jewelry found on the body or near the scene. No one’s discovered a reason for her move from the Vermont border where she ran a business and rented an apartment. It’s a strange one,” Conroy conceded.

“We’ll find out what happened to her.” No one deserved to die this way. Luke’s wall of self preservation slammed shut, cutting him off from her pain. “I’ll contact the sister.”

What or who ended the young woman’s life with such brutality? He turned and headed up the bank to speak to Rose Blue in private.

* * *

No one knew who killed the woman. They’d kept their meetings secret. She’d smiled that trusting smile and followed like an innocent follows the devil and his promises. How she regretted that before her death, begging and crying.

The best part was the final moment when she realized she’d never escape. The fear on her face….an adrenaline rush with no comparison!

Today her sister had come looking here, looking there. Keep searching, sister. You’ll find me. Until then, I’m watching. My pretty Rose, you were meant for me.

* * *

Rose stared through the morgue glass at the inert body. Her sister, who always had a hint of laughter in her voice and a ready smile, was a corpse. Her wild, out-of-control hair that she fussed over lay limp and lifeless. Rose’s chest tightened and she caught only short breaths. The room dipped under her feet. She silently prayed she wouldn’t get sick.

“Are you okay?” Detective Lennox stepped forward and guided her away from the glass with a gentle, but firm grip and then released her. “Do you want me to call a friend or relative?”

Who would she call in Ledgeview? Besides the police, she’d only spoken to Dahlia’s landlord, and he barely knew her. She gulped in air and the dizziness eased. “No, sorry, I needed a moment. I tried to prepare myself, but staring at my sister on the metal tray like a specimen was worse than I expected.” She turned to the six-foot-plus detective in washed out jeans and scuffed leather jacket.

He stared at her with intense, blue eyes he most likely used to intimidate his suspects. A few days’ growth of blonde whiskers marked his lean jaw. He hovered at her elbow as though he expected her to faint. His mouth softened, and she swore she heard a touch of sympathy in his voice a moment ago.

“Are you confirming it’s your sister, Dahlia Blue?”

“It is.” She tugged out her chain from inside her white button down shirt. She held up the silver butterfly pendant with a ruby on each wing. “My sister created identical necklaces for our birthdays with our birthstone. The jewelry’s not worth much. But it meant a lot to her, and I’d appreciate it if you passed the jewelry on to me.”

“No necklace was found. My men recovered two personal items, a torn blouse and a bra. You’re sure she was wearing the butterfly when she disappeared?”

“She never took it off.” Rose remembered the day her sister had given the chain and pendant to her.

Dahlia grinned her lopsided smile.
“Happy Birthday, twin of mine. Wait until you open your present. You’ll love it. I know because I do.”

“I apologize in advance for bringing up the subject,” he said, returning her to the present, “but your sister was awaiting a court hearing on a shoplifting charge.”

She flinched and tilted her head to reassess him. Why did he bring that incident up now? Was he fishing for some flaw in Dahlia? “You mean the engagement ring from her ex, A.J. Edwards. Her lawyer worked out the legal matters, and the theft charge was dismissed. The incident was a mistake in the first place. She’s not a thief.”

“She rented a place in Ledgeview. I’m trying to understand why she left home and moved to a new city. Was she running to avoid court?”

“My sister didn’t really move. Most of her belongings are still in Vermont, and she wouldn’t take off because of a false charge. She believed her lawyer would prove her innocence. Besides, when Dahlia was upset, she’d lay low, but she’d never leave town. My Gram instilled in us the belief we should never run away from our problems. She was very strong in her convictions, and Dahlia and I loved our hometown. So to answer your question, I’ve no idea why she came to New Hampshire.”

“Did your sister own a cell phone or laptop? I’d like to look at her phone records and emails.”

“She was using a prepaid one, temporarily, until our boutique earned out and freed up her money. I don’t know what happened to her laptop. She must have taken it to New Hampshire with her, but she was much more a phone person. It was faster and she liked fast.”

“I’d guess her laptop is in a landfill in New Jersey or some other unsearchable site. We can look into her ISP, but sometimes their storage is brief.”

Rose darted a glance at her sister’s body. Her stomach dropped with a sickening wave. “I’d like to leave now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Blue.” Lennox escorted her toward the exit. “Are you registered in a hotel or driving back to Vermont?”

“I’m staying in New Hampshire until you arrest her killer. I drove over from Dahlia’s apartment.”

His stare bored into her. “Are you sure you want to stay at her building? You’re lucky if your sister’s rental provides any security. It’s an old structure without the safety updates offered in modern apartments.”

“I don’t need a five star hotel. I’ll be fine.”
Keep moving through the door. Don’t picture Dahlia lying on the table in the morgue. Block the image.

Outside, she pointed at her vehicle. “My car’s the green compact parked at the curb.”

He walked her to the edge of the sidewalk and paused. “Miss Blue, I have to ask you a favor. Keep the fact your sister’s necklace is missing to yourself.”

She nodded. At any minute, she’d break into tears or collapse. She wanted to get away before either happened.

He held out his card. “Here’s my number. Call me night or day.”

“What about your family? I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t bother anyone. Call.”

At his last clipped word, she looked closer. An air of authority that breathed confidence rolled off his broad shoulders. She wished it would land on her.

“I’d like to discuss the progress of the case when I’m more on top of everything.”

“I’ll keep you up to date,” he promised, gentling his voice. His blue eyes met hers. “Don’t worry. We’ll arrest the person who did this to your sister. She won’t be forgotten.”

The forceful, steady light of certainty shone through his gaze, and the strong line of his whiskered jaw tightened. She believed him. A sense of relief and assurance poured through her. Palming his card, she slid inside the front seat. She’d meet with Detective Lennox again soon. She keyed the engine of her vehicle and merged into the traffic.

“I won’t forget, Gram,” she whispered, blinking away tears. “I’ll keep my promise to find Dahlia’s killer.” Her hand went to the weapon’s bulge in her pocket.

Chapter 2

Monday, Dahlia was buried with her First Communion rosary next to Mom and Gram in Brattleboro’s Village Cemetery. Father Mark bent his balding head and said the final prayers in the shadow of the mountain, just beyond the moss covered markers. Several church members, a handful of neighbors and Gram’s co-workers from the diner listened to the pastor’s words. With the murmur of one final rest in peace, they disbanded for refreshments in the church’s basement.

As children, Rose and Dahlia had always whined about attending Sunday Mass, and as they grew independent, they skipped the weekly ritual. Today, the familiar faces added a sense of support and consolation.

Rose accepted condolences and answered the discreet inquires about the investigation into Dahlia’s death. Time seemed to drag, and Rose longed to escape. When the last mourner left, she swallowed the lump in her throat and caught up with her friend, Cassie, to discuss arrangements for keeping her store open. A friend since kindergarten, Cassie accepted the job of holding down the boutique until Rose returned.

The next day Rose drove to Ledgeview to follow through on her promise to Gram. She locked herself away in Dahlia’s apartment and pulled out the photo album she’d brought back. The pictures always gave her the feeling that she belonged to a real family.

She opened the worn cover and flipped to the first photo of her always sober, gray-haired grandmother. If only her sister paid attention to Gram’s favorite warning: “Always work hard and remember the only free lunch sits in the mousetrap.”

It was advice Dahlia ignored and her mother botched by giving birth to them at age seventeen. On the next page, Dahlia had inserted a magazine picture of George Clooney with the label “Father” printed underneath.