Deception with Murder (A Rilynne Evans Mystery, Book Two) (10 page)

T
he station was always slower on Saturday mornings. Other than the officer at the front desk, Rilynne didn’t see anyone until she stepped into the homicide office.

“Morning,” Detective Wilcome called out before picking up his phone.

Rilynne grabbed a cup of coffee and laid the file out on her desk. She glanced over the copies she had taken of a few of Villarreal’s journal pages before closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair.

Villarreal was sitting in the hot sun, sweat beading along his brow, with a hammer in hand. He tossed an empty box over his shoulder and heaved a new one down in front of him. After tugging it open, he pulled out the new shingles and started tacking them the roof.

“Evans,” Wilcome motioned her over. “Here’s the address for Villarreal’s beach house. I’ve spoken with the local officials and they’re handing over jurisdiction to us since he was one of our own. I want you to head out there and see what you can dig up.”

“What about Matthews?” she asked, looking around for him.

“Matthews is working with Villarreal’s sergeant going over the reports the other officers on the case had submitted,” he answered without looking up. “I’ve called for a crime scene investigator to join you. He’ll be meeting you downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, walking back toward her desk. “Who’s going with me?” she called back out across the room.

“Ben Davis.”

Rilynne was suddenly hit with both nervousness and excitement. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with Ben about the morning’s events. She had a strong feeling that it was going to be an awkward three-hour drive.

Ben was already waiting in front of the building when she pulled around in the department SUV. If he had been surprised to see that she was the detective he would be accompanying, he didn’t show it any sign of it.

“I grabbed some snacks for the trip,” he said, loading his cases into the back. “Did you want me to drive? I know you’re not fond of it.”

Rilynne was slightly taken aback by his casualness. It was as if the last eight hours had never happened. “Actually, that would be great. I’m exhausted and the last thing that I want is to be driving right now.”

“Well, I can’t blame you,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled onto the road. “You had a bit of a rough night.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” she said, looking out the side window. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t add to her comment. Instead she got lost in the buildings rolling by. It wasn’t until they turned into trees that she twisted around to face him again.

“So who taught you to cook?” she asked. She had guessed by the number of gadgets she had seen in his kitchen while investigating his kidnapping that he had enjoyed cooking, but she’d never actually tasted anything until that morning.

“Believe it or not, Justin,” he chortled. “He had a natural talent in the kitchen, even when he was young. After he took me in, he thought that I needed to learn how to take care of myself, so he started giving me cooking lessons. I can also do my own laundry and iron in case you were wondering.”

Rilynne was glad to see the familiar smile sitting on Ben’s face. “I’m not going to lie,” she smiled. “I’m quite impressed.”

“So what were you dreaming about last night? It didn’t sound very pleasant.”

“Flashbacks,” she said simply. “I haven’t actually had one in a couple months. I guess it was brought on by that letter.”

“Understandable. Although, where did monkeys come in?”

“I, uh…” she stammered. “Monkeys?” She felt herself start to panic as she did her best to keep a blank expression. As slim as the chances were that a monkey actually had anything to do with their case, she knew it would only take one slip of the tongue for someone to discover her secret.

“Yeah, you were saying something about a monkey when I walked in.”

Rilynne pulled her feet up in her seat. It wasn’t like her to talk in her sleep. “I have no idea. I don’t remember anything about a monkey. Sorry I woke you up, by the way.” She quickly tried to shift the subject, hoping that he would forget anything he might have heard.

Ben squirmed in his seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So, is my bedroom still a workshop?” She smiled as she saw his ears turn crimson.

His knuckles dragged thoughtlessly across his chin, as he seemed to be trying to find his words. After a few moments he gave up and just stared at the road in front of him, knuckles still rubbing his jaw.

Rilynne turned toward the window so he couldn’t see the smile on her face. Between his reaction and her mind drifting back to the morning’s events, her insides seemed to be spinning, as if caught in a tornado. Several long minutes passed before she had regained her composure enough to want to talk again. She considered for a moment bringing up their sleeping arrangements, but she knew where it could cause the conversation to lead.

“So, your neighbor seems,” he paused. “Friendly.” Despite the light tone in his voice, Rilynne could still hear something behind it that sounded vaguely like jealousy.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said nonchalantly. “He did wake me up at seven in the morning on Thursday mowing the yard. I was not very thrilled.” She saw out of the corner of her eye Ben’s hand drop from his chin and return to its place on the steering wheel. She glanced over just long enough to see a hint of a smile sneaking across his face.

Rilynne kicked her feet up on the dash and leaned back in her seat. As she tapped her foot along with the radio, her eyes started to feel heavy and slowly drifted closed.

Villarreal ran through the front door of a quaint little house and straight back into an open door at the end of the hall. She could feel an almost overwhelming sense of excitement flowing through her.

She stood behind him as he took an envelope out of his pocket and hid it in the room before rushing back for the door. Before shutting it, he took a good look around and smiled. “One more week,” he said aloud to the empty house.

“Hey, I think we’re here.” Ben was poking her in the arm. She opened her eyes and but he didn’t stop. “I’m awake. Why are…” she trailed off when she saw the confused look on his face. Following his gaze, she knew immediately that something was not quite right.

The front door was slightly open and the window next to it was broken, leaving the curtains fluttering with the breeze. She jumped out of the car and made her way toward the door with Ben following close behind her.

“Stay behind me,” she said, drawing her gun. She reached out and pushed gently on the door, causing it to swing open.

When she stepped in, she found that the entire house had been torn apart. “Take this,” she said, pulling a small revolver from her ankle and handing it to Ben. “Stay here. If anyone comes at you, shoot.” A voice inside her head was yelling for her to send him out to the car where he would be safe, but she knew she needed him at the door. Rilynne took one last concerned look at him before turning and advancing into the house.

She worked her way from room to room, but it appeared that who ever had gone through the house was already gone.

“It’s all clear,” she called to Ben as she walked back into the main room. He reached out to hand her the gun back but she shook her head. “Keep it. They might come back and I don’t want you unarmed if I’m in another room.” He looked at the gun hesitantly, but did not argue. “Well, where should we start?” she asked.

“I’ll check the door and window for prints. I don’t suppose there’s any chance we’re actually going to be able to find the pages that you’re looking for now?” Ben asked.

Rilynne walked through the living room, looking at all the damage. “I don’t think that’s the case,” she said confidently. “I don’t think they found what they were looking for.”

“How can you tell?” he asked, looking around the room.

She slid on a glove and picked up the baseball bat that was lying on the floor and pointed it toward the random holes in the wall. “Look at the level of damage,” she explained. “It goes beyond just searching. They were frustrated and taking it out on the house. The lamp has been smashed, and they took a knife to the back of the couch nearly shredding it. There would have been no reason for this if they were just looking for something.”

“Makes sense. So does that mean that the pages more than likely aren’t here?”

She smiled contently. “Oh, they’re here.” That had been the first thing she checked after making sure that the house was secure.

He looked like he wanted to ask her how she could be so sure, but instead grabbed his case and began processing the front door.

Rilynne started sifting through the wreckage in the living room, knowing if she went straight to the pages, it would raise questions she wouldn’t be able to answer. She decided to give herself thirty minutes before ‘happening’ upon them.

The person who had searched the house had certainly done a thorough job. The spots Rilynne herself would consider hiding something appeared to have all been searched, such as the underneath side of the coffee table, buried in the faux plants, and in movie cases. Even the backs of all of the picture frames had been pulled off.

“There’s nothing here,” Ben said. “The door has been completely wiped clean. It also doesn’t appear that he or she cut themselves on the broken glass getting in. I’ll start in the kitchen. Do you want me to pull prints as I go, or just search for the pages?”

“Just look for the pages. We’ll be here forever if we try to process the whole house. We can call the local forensic team to come in when we’re done.”

After he left the room, Rilynne shifted around the destruction on the floor. Nearly every item in the room had been destroyed. She knew the perpetrator would have been frustrated after not finding the journal pages, but there seemed to have been more behind the destruction than just that; there was anger.

Ben had just walked back into the living room when her thirty minutes ran out. “It’s not in the kitchen or the dining room,” he said. “Did you find any sign of it in here?”

She shook her head and stood up from where she had been sitting in the middle of a pile of books. “No, let’s go to the bedroom,” she said, pointing to the door at the end of the hall. From his position in front of her as she followed him to the open door, she could just make out the reddening of his ears where his hair was tucked behind them. “We could start on the bed,” she added, purely to get a reaction. His ears flamed brighter, but he didn’t respond.

The room was large, with a queen size bed at one end and a seating area at the other. The walls were painted dark green and covered with jungle themed artwork. The mattress, like the couch, had been assaulted by a knife and was cut nearly in two. The floor was covered in a thin layer of feathers from the pillows that had been torn apart, and the dresser drawers were emptied out and the dresser knocked over. One of the chairs from the seating area looked to have been beaten into the wall until it had broken into several pieces.

“Well,” Rilynne said in her best frustrated voice. “Start with anything that doesn’t appear to have been touched. She grabbed the remaining chair and pulled it under the air vent on the wall and pulled out her screwdriver before climbing up. After briefly searching it, she jumped back down to the floor and began walking around the perimeter of the room, looking for just the right spot before kneeling down. “Hey, do you have something I can use to pry this off?” she asked pointing to the baseboard just to the right of the door. He grabbed a knife out of his bag and handed it to her.

The board popped off easily, as if it were held on by nothing more than a child’s glue-stick. She handed the board and the knife back to Ben and reached in the hole, pulling out a large envelope. She ripped the end off and peered in to find four pieces of paper, the same size as the pages in Villarreal’s journal. “Wow,” Ben sounded astonished. “What made you look there?”

She shrugged casually. “It looked like it had been taken off and put back on.” He held his hand down and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll go call the locals and have them meet us up here so they can look into the break in,” she said as she slid the envelope into an evidence bag.

“Huh,” he said behind her just before she reached the door. She turned around to find him staring intently at the board still in his hand.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Monkeys.” He looked up at her appearing both bewildered and amused. She looked down at the board in his hand and found that it had been engraved with little dancing monkeys.