How to Survive a Killer Seance (17 page)

I hadn’t thought of that.

Two technicians brought out the body on a gurney, wrapped in an opaque plastic bag, and wheeled him out the main ballroom exit. Luckily, I couldn’t see the wound, but the memory of what I had seen made the room spin again.

“You okay?” Brad asked, grabbing my arm.

“Fine,” I said brushing him off.

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay. Well, it looks like they’re done, so I better get to work.” He gave me a last squeeze, then returned to the room where Levi had died. The body had been removed, but the blood remained, and that was Brad’s jurisdiction.

“Miss Parker?” I heard my name called and turned to see Detective Luke Melvin’s brother standing behind me.

“Yes?” I said. My heart began to beat rapidly. I was always nervous talking to Luke Melvin, and apparently it would be the same talking to Lonny Melvin.

“I just want to ask you a couple of questions. You’re the one who found the body?”

“No, that was Stephanie. Mia let her into the office, Stephanie went in, she screamed. Then I went in.”

He had already talked to Mia and Stephanie, so I wondered if this was a trick question, an attempt to trip me up and—What? Confess? That was what Luke Melvin would have done.

Lonnie Melvin asked a few more questions, jotted down a few notes, then said if I remembered anything else to call him. He gave me his card and returned to the crime scene.

Left on my own, I thought about poor Levi. More questions bubbled up like sparkling champagne.

Who had access to the room? Just about anyone who was at the party—the guests, the staff, even the caterers. And waiters.

Who had access to the candlestick? Likewise—anyone.

Well, that narrowed it down.

I thought about MOM—one of the many things I’d learned from hanging out with Brad. Determine the Method, Opportunity, and Motive. Retrieving my notepad from my purse, I sat down, and jotted down some facts.

I knew the method—the heavy brass candlestick. I wrote that down, then added “Fingerprints?”

I’d learn the opportunity—the approximate time Levi was killed—when the ME came back with her results. I left a question mark.

But what was the motive? Why had Levi been murdered? I did a little brainstorming and came up with some possible motives:

I closed my notebook and stepped over to the doorway of the crime scene, blocked by yellow police tape. Brad was on his hands and knees in his white jumpsuit, pressing a cloth into the bloodstained carpet. Detective Melvin had disappeared.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

He looked up. “We’ll see. This carpet is hand-painted. It’s really old and very delicate.”

I looked over the Victorian carpet, with faded cabbage roses in peach and forest green. “Did you find anything . . . unusual yet?”

“You mean besides blood?”

I gave him a you-know-what-I-mean look. I’d also learned from Brad that everyone has secrets and that things are not always what they seem. He knew this because he’d uncovered a lot of secrets cleaning up after horrendous murder scenes—and probably had a few of his own.

He grinned, then added, “Oh. You mean a clue?”

“I was sorta hoping you might have stumbled onto something.”

“Not yet,” he said, pressing a fresh cloth on the stain. “You thinking about playing detective again?”

“Well, it happened on my watch,” I said. “I feel a little responsible. Wouldn’t you?”

“Nope. This had nothing to do with me or you. Like I always say, everyone—”

“—has secrets. I know. So what kind of secrets do you think Levi had?”

Brad sat up and opened a plastic bottle filled with liquid. As he poured it into a plastic bowl, the strong smell stung my nose. Ammonia. I waved my hand in a useless attempt to fan it away.

“Phew.”

“Probably,” he answered, opening another plastic bottle. He poured blue liquid that smelled like a flower garden into a plastic bowl. Dish detergent.

I watched him work for a few minutes, fascinated, as he dipped a toothbrush into the blue detergent and began to scrub the stain. Knowing how to get blood out of a carpet would no doubt be helpful for an event planner like me.

“Don’t you need a bigger brush?” I asked.

“Nope. That’ll just spread the blood.” He blotted the wet area again with a dry cloth, turning the cloth pink. Then he poured a small amount of ammonia on the spot and let it set a few more seconds.

“Why the ammonia?” I said, nearly nauseated by the smell.

“Blood is made up of iron and proteins. Coagulation makes it harder to remove a dried stain. This breaks down the blood.” He blotted again, then repeated the whole process, starting with the detergent and toothbrush, then the ammonia and cloth.

“That’s it?” I said, watching the stain slowly disappear before my eyes.

“Pretty much. Sometimes I use a shop vac to suck up the stuff. But not on this antique carpet. This one’s going to take time.”

“It’s going to reek of ammonia.”

“Naw. I’ll rinse it with soapy water when I’m done, then blot it again. If that doesn’t work, there’s always meat tenderizer.”

“You’re kidding. Meat tenderizer?”

“Yep. The crystals break down the collagens in meat. They’re made of enzymes from tropical fruits like papaya, pineapple, and kiwifruit. Meat tenderizer works on swollen joints and sports injuries too.”

What didn’t this man know?

I figured Brad was going to be a while, so I told him I’d see him later. I picked up my boxes and started out of the ballroom. I nearly bumped into Stephanie entering as I exited the main ballroom doorway and almost dropped the boxes. She caught the top one and said, “Let me help you out with this.”

“Thanks, Stephanie.”

“Have they released the crime scene yet?” she asked, as she followed me to the parking lot.

“Not yet. Most of the officers are gone—I didn’t see Detective Melvin—but Brad is still working in there.”

“Do you think they’ll question everyone at the party?”

I set my box on the ground and pulled my key from my purse. “Yeah, the detective asked for the guest list.”

“What about the 4-D Projector? I need to get that back to Hella-Graphics or Jonathan will have my butt.”

“I think the police took it. They impounded Levi’s computer and everything else.” I opened the trunk and took the box from Stephanie.

She dropped her hands. “What? They took it? That equipment belongs to Hella-Graphics. It’s invaluable IP—intellectual property!”

I lifted up my box and set it on top of the first box, then closed the trunk. “Why don’t you call the San Jose Police Department and check with them? I’m sure they’re planning to return everything to the company once they’ve gone over it.”

“I hope so,” she said, checking her watch and fiddling with the band. “If they don’t, I’ll sic the company lawyers on them to make sure nothing’s leaked.”

“Have you heard from Jonathan yet?”

“No. I’m seriously worried about him. You don’t suppose . . . I mean, it’s just that he seemed so upset . . .” Her voice drifted off again.

“Okay, well, I better go,” I said awkwardly, and opened my car door. “I’m sure Jonathan will turn up, and you’ll get your equipment back.”

Stephanie didn’t appear to be listening to me. I didn’t blame her. My words rang false, even to me, considering the circumstances. But she seemed genuinely concerned about her boss. A fleeting thought went through my head as I closed the car door and started the engine.

Was it possible Stephanie was also having an affair with Jonathan?

 

By the time I returned to my office, I had a whole scenario going about who killed Levi Webster. I’d decided it was the guy who’d been harassing Jonathan. The guy who, in fact, had tried to kill him with his car. The way I imagined it, this Zachary character had followed Jonathan to the Winchester House, waited for a chance to get him alone, found him in the room with Levi, grabbed the candlestick, slugged Jonathan over the head, killed Levi since he was a witness, dragged Jonathan’s body away, and, and . . .

Where had that wild scenario come from? Good thing I had party planning skills to fall back on. I’d never make it as a mystery writer.

As soon as I’d unloaded the boxes from the MINI into my office, I plopped into my chair and checked my iPhone messages. There were three. The first was from Mother asking if I’d found Jonathan yet. No, Mom, I told her in my head. That was not my job. I was a party planner, not a host finder. I hadn’t even talked to Detective Melvin about George Wells’s questionable suicide for Teddi.

The second call was from a blocked number. A whispered voice came on the line; I could barely hear it. I had to listen twice to make out the message. “If Jonathan Ellington isn’t caught soon, he’ll come after you next. Watch your back.”

I hung up, feeling a cold sweat break out.

WTF?

Somebody had just threatened me! And I hadn’t done anything!

With trembling hands I checked the third call, wondering if it would be the same voice with another ominous message. But this voice was warm and familiar.

“Presley,” Brad said. “Got some news you might be interested in. Call me back ASAP.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves—and my hands—so I could punch Brad’s number. I waited for him to answer, my heart beating double time.

“Hey, Presley,” he said.

“Brad! I just heard the strangest thing.”

“You heard already? Personally, I don’t think it’s so strange.”

“Heard what? What isn’t so strange?” I was confused.

“Oh, I thought that’s what you meant. That you’d heard my news already.”

“No, tell me! What? Did you hear from the police?”

“Yep. They got a match on fingerprints they found on the murder weapon.”

“Oh my God. There were fingerprints on the candlestick? Whose?”

“None other than your party host—Jonathan.”

Wow. Even though I’d sort of suspected so, it felt like a kick to the stomach. So Jonathan
had
killed Levi after all. For exposing his sex secrets.

“Yeah, although I’m not surprised. I knew that guy was trouble. Now they’ve got him. So, what were you talking about—you heard something strange?” Brad asked.

I’d almost forgotten about the disturbing phone message. Suddenly it didn’t seem so frightening.

“Uh, nothing really. I got a phone call from someone warning me about Jonathan. But now that he’s been caught—”

“What did you say?” Brad interrupted.

“I said, now that Jonathan’s been caught . . .”

“Oh no, Presley. I didn’t say that. He hasn’t been caught yet.”

Oh God. Jonathan was still free? And according to that phone call, he was supposedly after me? But why? Did he think I knew something? I didn’t know anything! What was there to know? That he was Levi’s murderer?

I felt prickles of sweat break out on the back of my neck.

“Brad, I need you to come back to the office, as soon as you can,” I said, my hands trembling once again. “I may be in some serious trouble.”

It took Brad nearly an hour later to get to the office. By then I’d had enough caffeine to keep a narcoleptic awake; except for me, it did the opposite and calmed my trembling hands. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep me from looking over my shoulder for a killer.

“Thank God!” I said as he walked into my office. I grabbed him and pulled him in the door.