Dead Women Tell No Lies (5 page)

“Did your sister owe money?”

“Dahlia kept up with her bills, though it was hard for her. Except…” Rose hesitated and broke eye-contact. “Recently, she messed up the boutique’s account. We had a hard time paying January’s rent. The
Blues Sisters
has always been our dream. Dahlia bored everyone talking about the boutique and her jewelry. She was an accomplished silversmith, a natural talent and we sold her creations at our store. I was more the buyer, behind the scenes person. When Dahlia was younger, she designed beaded bracelets for the kids at school, and I sold them. Some kids ran cold drink stands, we sold jewelry.”

He sensed she was trying to bury the admission of Dahlia’s error with another story. “What happened when your sister messed up your account?”

She lowered her eyes for a second.

He was onto something. “Go ahead.”

She inhaled and her breasts under her gray sweater rose and fell with a sigh. His gaze skipped down and back to her face.

Rose wet her lips and admitted, “It was unusual. We’re both good with figures. So we argued about the lost money.”

“How much?”

She expelled a breath as though surrendering. “She stole two thousand.”

“Yet, your sister paid three thousand dollars cash for her Ledgeview apartment’s first and last month’s rent plus security deposit.” He spotted the slight jolt of her body.

“She did? I’d no idea.”

“I reviewed her W2 Forms and bank records. The Ledgeview lease money wasn’t from her savings.” His pulse picked up. Something wasn’t right here.

“Maybe she stashed away a rainy day fund.” Rose avoided his gaze again.

“Where do you think she got her additional funds for the New Hampshire rental?”

“I don’t know.” Rose crossed and uncrossed her ankles and finally heaved a sigh. “All right, you might as well know though I’ve never discussed her problem with anyone. Dahlia helped herself to small items.”

“She stole?” He was getting a different picture of Dahlia now, and one that might have led to her unhappy ending.

“Not exactly, she took little objects like pens or a salt shaker from a restaurant. She worked on controlling the problem. There’s no way she’d steal the amount you mentioned.”

“Her dishonesty must have caused problems for you.”

Rose shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Gram and I had a few tense confrontations with Dahlia and her victims. We always tried to watch her, encourage her and have her replace the items. And as I said, they were small objects.”

“She helped herself to a couple of grand from your business. It sounds like she graduated to taking larger amounts.”

“The boutique theft was a one-time thing. In the past, Dahlia stole these small things to get people to see her for herself. She felt everyone saw us as a pair, a set.” She shrugged. “That’s what a counselor told Gram when Dahlia was first caught shoplifting. She was twelve.”

Follow the money trail. “Who would loan her the rest of the payment for the apartment?”

“I can’t think of a soul.” Rose wrinkled her brow.

“The cash could be a motive for her leaving home. She met someone, maybe online, who was financially well off, and your sister came to meet her online friend. Then she took too many little things from her network pal, who punished her by a swim in the river.”

Her face paled, and she shook her head. “You’re describing a big time thief, not Dahlia.”

“What about the stolen engagement ring?” he asked in a quiet, challenging voice. “I read the report. She stole it from the pawn shop, and it was worth more than a pen.”

Rose sat forward on the edge of the chair. Her hands fisted in her lap. “I can explain.

When she and A.J. broke up, she returned the ring to her fiancé. He didn’t want it, so he pawned it. When Dahlia spotted the ring in the pawn shop window, she was hurt. She didn’t think. She just grabbed it.”

“Did your sister sell the ring?”

“No, she cooled off and returned it the next day, but while she was at the pawn shop, a cop arrested her for shoplifting. Believe me, my sister’s not a big crook.” She paused and fanned her face with a hand. “Is it hot in here?”

She didn’t’ look well. Her face was the color of beach sand. She closed her eyes and her shoulders hunched forward as though she was in pain. A shiver shook her body.

“Miss Blue?” He jumped out of his seat and reached her in two seconds. “Rose.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes glazed.

“I’ll call a doctor.” He reached for his phone.

“No, don’t.”

“What is it?”

She straightened in the chair and ran a shaking hand through her hair. “I just saw my sister for a moment. I’m okay now.”

“Saw her where?” What was she talking about?

She waited a beat. “How about I give you unknown details about my sister’s death?”

“You mean what exactly?”

Her eyes narrowed, and he felt her take an emotional step back for a second before answering. “I was there the night Dahlia died.”

He had witnessed unexpected confessions when he worked in Buffalo, but he had to use all his willpower to keep his jaw from dropping. “You went with your sister when she was killed?” He sobered.

Was she a co-conspirator? He’d investigated the insurance angle. Rose received enough from the policy to bury her sister. Nothing else was left. Dahlia Blue possessed no funds to bequeath. She lived financially on the edge. Had the fight over the stolen boutique money prompted the killing? He stood in front of her. “Miss Blue, are you changing your story and confessing to murder or being an accomplice? Wait a minute.” He shot a hand in the air. “Remember you have the—.”

“You can save your Miranda rights. I’d never harm my sister.” She folded her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair. “I’ll explain, but you must try to believe me.”

He nodded, unsure what was to come next. Resting his hip on the end of the desk he waited for her to begin.

“Remember, keep an open mind. I wasn’t literally there.” She swallowed several times as though the words refused to come out of her mouth. “Since Dahlia…died, I’ve been undergoing a few…paranormal experiences.”

A ping of caution erupted in his chest. He worked to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Paranormal meaning−?”

“The night she died, I was with my sister because I entered her mind, but I couldn’t make out everything, or I’d pinpoint the location.”

Was she serious? Luke reconsidered her. Possibly, he’d let her attractive face mislead him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d sworn off pretty females long ago.

“You were in your sister’s mind?”

“Kinda. I watched.” She shrugged and held out her palms. “My explanation sounds odd, but we sometimes shared feelings, experiences—though nothing like when she was murdered. Last night, for instance, I saw Dahlia in a pond, the way she died.” Rose paused and swallowed. “I believe Dahlia cried for help, and she brought me to her when she was killed.”

The woman was original. At least she wasn’t spouting the worn out my-controlling boyfriend-forced-me defense, or the Ledgeview River Monster did it. “Can you remember anything about the killer? Shoes? Tattoo?”

“I’d guess she was murdered by a man. His form was more of a shadow. I think he attacked from behind because I felt the blows.” She laid a hand on the back of her skull and winced. “Then my sister fell down onto the rock. Her killer tied her up in duct tape.”

“But you weren’t really hit? Have you always been psychic?” If this story didn’t work, would she claim aliens beamed down the information?

“I’m not. Except for the night I described, Dahlia and I always communicated in the normal way, and I’ve had no luck talking to her so far. Let me explain.” She gripped the top of her purse. “Growing up, my sister and I experienced the usual identical sibling occurrences. We chose the same toothpaste, shampoo, but nothing like the night she died. Once Dahlia broke her foot, and I experienced the same pain although my foot was fine. It was a twin thing.”

“A twin thing,” he said, taking in the information.

“I’ve talked with a few people and found out not everyone develops their psychic ability at an early age or recognizes it. I’m guessing the fact my grandmother strongly discouraged us having our own twin talk or sharing mentally interfered with my psychic development.”

“Sure.” Had the woman told him anything truthful?

Rose gripped her hands together. “Gram was very religious and brought us up in her faith. Anything supernatural or in the psychic realm was against our beliefs. It was a sin. I wasn’t about to go against Gram or our church. I always denied mental communication with my sister and passed it off as intuition, but now I realize the ability was always there. We often knew where each other were or felt without words, unless we were fighting or blocking the message.”

“Were you fighting when she disappeared?” he asked, observing the nervous tightening of her hands.

“Yes.” She shifted in her seat with discomfort. “We argued over the boutique’s missing funds. Since the night Dahlia died, I’ve been trying to communicate with her, but I haven’t made much progress.”

It sounded like a crazy story to him, one he’d have to be crazy to believe.

A corner of her mouth turned down. “I can’t clarify that horrible night’s experience much better except I’m certain it happened to us, Dahlia and me.” Rose stiffened when he didn’t comment. “I’m not good at explaining what went on, but I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Describe the site of the murder for me.” He picked up the ballpoint and notebook.

She stretched out her open palm. “Let me draw it.”

He passed the writing utensils and eased back to wonder about her sanity and his own. The drawing would be the ultimate test. He was in a tight spot in the investigation. With the new ME unable to pinpoint the exact time of Dahlia’s death because of the water temperature, he was left with only a weak estimate. Rose could have committed the crime and be leading him on a merry chase, starting with the sketch.

“My sister was the artistic one, but I’ll give you an idea how it appeared to me.” She bit her lip and set to work. The sound of the pen’s tip scratching across the paper filled the cubicle, and all the background noises had long ago faded.

“Dahlia hated heights.”

“I can sympathize with her. Flat ground is where I prefer my feet. How about you? As a twin, did you share your sister’s fear?”

She stared at him, appearing to be judging him, deciding if she should share her secret. “I never reveal or discuss my personal fears, but since you’re working my sister’s case…spi–ders.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “I hate them.”

“Spiders?” Not an unusual phobia or what he expected to hear. “I understand. How’s your drawing?” He bet it was a place that didn’t exist and no one would find.

“I’m almost done. I’d guess the killer knew about Dahlia’s phobia, bound and dragged her to an old, iron bridge. He threw her off to watch the ultimate horror on her face as she fell.” Though the words were spoken softly, there was an underlying sadness mixed with revulsion in the rigidity of her body. She set the pencil down before flipping the drawing toward him.

“Dahlia was attacked on these boulders.” She pointed to the ellipses, and then lowered her finger to the wavy lines beneath the stones. “This is the water below.” She bent her head, breaking eye contact. “The bridge where he tossed her over seemed to be an old train overpass.”

The picture on the paper leapt into his mind and grew until the matching scene came into focus. A granite ledge appeared out of the woods and sloped into the river below. A few yards north stood the remains of a deserted railroad trestle. A jolt of recognition hit him with a punch that nearly knocked him over.

“Besides my search of the Brattleboro area, I surfed the internet for hiking trails and campgrounds in New England. Nothing resembled my mental image of where she was murdered. My car was in the garage the week she disappeared, and I was limited to bumming rides to hunt for her. I should probably broaden my searches now.”

“Rose, don’t bother chasing down anymore sites. I know the exact place where your sister died.”

Chapter 4

They’d had the perfect night at the perfect place. Everything had been a dream. Their evening together played over and over. In the daylight the rush disappeared and the daily grind took its place.

Now Rose had come. She walked the streets around Ledgeview. Lived in the same apartment.

Could a flower by any other name be as sweet as dear Rose?
 
We’ll meet soon in the spot your sister and I loved.

“You drew The Ledges that are on the outskirts of the city.” Luke tried to hide his excitement and speak in a professional manner. “It’s an unofficial recreation area. During the summer, families picnic on the boulders and swim in the river below the rocks. But after dark, they say the place is haunted. Only the local high school kids risk going in the evening for the occasional drinking party. The police chase them away, but unless they assign a cruiser to patrol all night, it’s a lost cause. The teenagers make it a personal challenge to stake out a claim and sneak into the place after sunset.”