Illusions of Death (7 page)

Chapter 14

Logan shut his computer down and turned off the monitor. Ever since the mayor’s efficiency expert studied the work habits of city employees, they’d received almost daily emails on how to save energy. He grimaced. If he won the race for police chief, that kind of bureaucratic crap would be unavoidable.

Brad sauntered into the squad room. “Just landed a hot date tomorrow with that new receptionist. You doing anything this weekend?”

Logan stood. “Having dinner with my parents tonight.”

His partner’s eyes lit up. “Your mom making roast beef by any chance?”

Brad often wrangled an invitation to dinner at the Warner household. Resa loved to see a man with an appetite appreciate her cooking. Brad Patterson came with an empty stomach and a mouth full of pretty compliments.

“We’ve been invited by Martha Campbell to have dinner at her house. She wants to get more involved in town now that her husband’s passed.”

“And Resa Warner is the busiest soul in Walton Springs. Frankly, I can’t believe she’s never run for mayor. Maybe Mrs. Campbell will become her new bestie and financial back her campaign.”

Logan saw the look in Brad’s eyes. “Don’t think you can crash this dinner party, partner.”

“Will the lovely Karlyn Campbell be there?”

“I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly. He hadn’t liked the interest Brad showed in Karlyn, though he had yet to lay eyes on her. Brad was a solid partner but a total womanizer. Karlyn, rebounding from divorce, needed to give men like Brad a wide berth.

Especially since Logan wanted to stake a claim with her first. He’d spent a restless night thinking about the explosive kiss they’d shared. He remembered the countless times he’d read
Sleeping Beauty
to Ashley. She clamored for the story again and again and watched the DVD religiously. She’d even gone through a phase where she wanted everyone to call her Aurora, Sleeping Beauty’s given name.

His kiss with Karlyn last night had awakened him, as sure as the prince’s kiss has stirred Aurora back to life.

And he wanted more. Much more. With her.

Brad pulled out his phone as he hit a few keys on his computer, pulling up a file. He smiled and punched in a number. Logan seethed, knowing exactly how this would play out.

“Mrs. Campbell? This is Brad Patterson from the Walton Springs Police Department. I was calling to check on you, ma’am.”

Logan didn’t bother listening to the rest. He’d seen Brad’s charm in action before. He walked out, knowing Brad would be sitting at the Campbell dinner table later tonight, flirting outrageously with both Karlyn and her mother.

He promised himself to stay pissed on the inside and be cool to the world on the outside.

And make sure Brad didn’t make any headway pursuing Karlyn.

Karlyn joined her mother and Chris in the living room, glad that Chris fit in effortlessly upon his arrival. Martha was delighted to play hostess for the writer and his partner.

“Would you like a drink?” Chris moved to the bar. “I bartended for years in New York before I moved to Atlanta. It kept me going before I sold a screenplay and could give it up to write fulltime.”

“I’ll take a pomegranate martini. Thanks.”

Chris mixed the drink and handed it over. She sipped it. “Perfection.”

The doorbell sounded. Martha excused herself to answer it.

Karlyn told Chris, “Thanks again. You’ve entertained Mother since you got here. The best medicine for her is to be around others right now.”

“She’s an interesting lady. Lots of good stories. She’s met everyone—Capote, Trump, Clinton. She should write a book.”

“My father knew everyone, even if he didn’t care much for the company of others.”

Logan walked into the room, escorting his mother and father. A man she didn’t recognize followed them. Karlyn noted looking at Dr. Warner was like seeing Logan twenty-five years down the road.

Mrs. Warner came straight to her and shook her hand warmly. “Miss Campbell, I’m Resa Warner. You’re the only author I read. And your haircut is remarkable. I love all those messy layers of honey blond.”

Karlyn pushed a hand through it. “It’s actually starting to get a little long. Logan tells me you have your own salon. Since I’m staying in town for the near future, I’ll need to book an appointment with you.”

“You do that, hon. And who is this young man? I must say your hair is impeccable. Resa Logan. Hair stylist, in case you hadn’t figured it out by now.”

Chris extended his hand. “Chris Stevenson, ma’am. And credit Warren Newlin with my hair. I haven’t had a bad hair day since Warren took over.”

Resa brightened. “
The
Warren Newlin? His last book on blow-outs opened my eyes. The tresses of Walton Springs owe a lot to Mr. Newlin’s influence on my work.”

Resa turned and introduced her son to Chris. Karlyn added in, “Chris is a screenwriter and my collaborator on my first attempt at a screenplay.”

The stranger stepped up. “Nice to meet you, Karlyn. Chris. I’m Brad Patterson, Logan’s partner in crime. Or I guess in solving crimes. I called to see how your mother was doing, and she was kind enough to invite me to dinner tonight.”

Karlyn caught Logan’s eye roll and stifled a smile. She made a mental note to ask him about Brad.

The group adjourned to a large, oak-paneled dining room. No shortage of laughter occurred. Chris told a handful of Hollywood stories of stars on the set and their tantrums. Martha added her own twist with anecdotes from the literary world. Mitchell Warner entertained the group with tales of camping trips that went awry, while Resa caught up Martha and Karlyn up on local town gossip.

Over coffee and dessert, Logan spoke up.

“I’d like to run something by you.” He shifted in his chair. Karlyn could see he was unsure where to start.

“Spill it, Logan,” Brad chided him. They probably already know if they’ve gassed up at Casey’s the last couple of days.”

Logan sighed. “I was afraid of that.” He sat a little taller. “I’m planning to run for police chief in the upcoming May election.”

Resa beamed her approval. “I think you’d make a fine chief, sweetie. And you have big city experience that Seth Berger doesn’t have. I’m sure he’s your main competition.”

“Berger’s no competition,” Mitchell Warner noted. “He’s a nondescript paper-pusher. Logan here knows how to solve cases. He’s got the practical experience to back it up.”

“I need to get five hundred signatures in order to run.” He extracted a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket and looked at his father.

“I’d be honored, sir, if you were the first registered voter to sign my petition.”

Karlyn saw the doctor’s eyes mist. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scrawled his signature. He eyed Logan with a bit of mischief in his eyes.

“I suppose this means I’ll also be the first person you hit up for a campaign donation.”

His son grinned. “Great idea, Dad!”

Resa smiled as her husband passed her the pen and petition. “You definitely need a haircut. Citizens in the Springs will want a well-groomed chief.”

“Does this mean I have to get a manicure, too?”

Resa laughed. “I’d say yes. If you look good, it’s good advertising for me.”

Both Brad and Martha signed. Chris and Karlyn apologized that they couldn’t.

“That’s okay. I’ll hit the square tomorrow for the rest. It’ll have a lot of pedestrian traffic since it’s a Saturday.” He blew out a long breath. “I guess I’m officially in the race.”

They raised their coffee cups in a toast.

“If I can keep crime down between now and the election, I think I’ll have a good chance,” Logan declared.

“That’s if we can keep the Rainbow Murders out of the Springs,” Brad muttered.

Chris shivered. “Those are some pretty violent murders. Everywhere I go, that’s all people are talking about.”

Karlyn frowned. “Rainbow Murders. I’ve been busy writing lately and haven’t caught much news. Feed me some details.”

Chris explained. “They started about five months ago in downtown Atlanta. A couple a month since then. They’ve taken place in various parts of the city, but the last one occurred in Mortonville. First time a Rainbow Murder occurred outside the city limits, in a suburb north of the city.”

“That’s only about twenty minutes from here,” Karlyn remarked. “I passed through it on my way here. Why are they called the Rainbow Murders?”

“After killing his victims, he paints them from head to toe in a solid color of the rainbow,” Logan added. “Cops nicknamed him Roy G. Biv because he’s stuck with that order—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.”

“The pattern wasn’t obvious till after the third murder,” Brad said. “He completed the cycle of seven murders and then started repeating the colors with a new set of murders.”

“Who are the victims? And why hasn’t this gotten more press?” Karlyn asked. “I’m surprised the media isn’t all over this. They love it lurid and violent.”

“The mayor of Atlanta has tried to keep it quiet. They don’t want people to panic as they did with the Atlanta child murders years ago.” Logan sighed. “And there’s no profile victim. He’s killed an elderly widow. Two gay men. A hooker and a lawyer. Then an accountant and a plumber. You name it. Roy’s victims are a hodgepodge of people.”

Karlyn thought a moment. “You know, John Grisham did a non-fiction book about murder in Oklahoma. I would love to sink my teeth into something like that. Maybe I should write about this Rainbow Killer.”

“Don’t do it,” Logan warned. “We don’t know who this guy is, much less why he does it. You get involved, and it raises the profile of the entire case. Hell, you could even wind up as a victim yourself, Karlyn.”

Chris added, “And you’ve got the screenplay to finish. Dabble with Roy later. If then.”

“You’re also three-quarters through a new stand-alone, dear,” her mother reminded her. “No time to get involved in these grisly murders.”

Karlyn disagreed, but she wasn’t finding any support around the table. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Anyone need a refill?”

She rose to get the coffeepot, but as she walked to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think how much Roy G. Biv intrigued her.

Chapter 15

The minute he saw her, he knew she had to be Yellow.

He’d done a black teacher in Atlanta. Retired. Had kids and grandkids. Feisty for a woman on Social Security.

But Jeanine was forty years younger. White. An elementary art teacher in his new hunting ground—Fountain Valley. A specimen he couldn’t resist. He’d watched her for weeks. Knew in his gut that this strawberry blond was the next one.

Bumping into her at the grocery store had been genius. He gave his sheepish smile and struck up a conversation, pretending not to know the difference between a melon and cantaloupe. She helped him. Teased a little with him. Rewarded him with a genuine smile. Was at a point where he knew she wanted him to ask for her number, so he pretended he got a call and excused himself. Noted her disappointment as he hustled from the market.

Now she was a bit tipsy from drinks with a few friends. She’d remained behind to hit the restroom. He knew her car. He knew her house. He knew everything about her.

And how good she was going to look in all yellow.

She exited the restaurant. Headed for her car. He’d parked next to her. Just before she approached, he stepped from a doorway and stood next to his car. Watched her approach. Saw her do a double take. Let a smile escape as their eyes met. He’d feed her a line about being stood up by a blind date. How embarrassed he was. How he was still hungry. Ask her if she was. Suggest to her that they get a pizza—no melons involved.

She’d laugh. He’d nudge her some. Make her think going back to her place and having pizza delivered was her idea.

They’d eat. Drink a little wine.

Then he’d have the time of his life.

Jeanine? Not so much.

Chapter 16

“What do you think?” Karlyn asked.

“You nailed it.” Chris wrapped her in a bear hug. “Matt pops off the page. The dialogue is crisp. Pacing’s terrific. The studio will want more. This has sequel—no, series—written all over it.”

She sighed. “And it only took a week. Your suggestions had me pouring words onto the page. I wouldn’t have completed this without you.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re a dream to work with, Karlyn. Organized. Original ideas.” He laughed. “And you listened to my suggestions. You wouldn’t believe the screenplays I’ve tried to punch up with the writer fighting me tooth and nail.”

Karlyn inserted the flash drive into her laptop. “I’ll save it and email it to Alicia. She’s a fast reader and eager to get this. We’ll have her feedback by this time tomorrow.”

“Ahead of schedule. The studio won’t expect that.”

“It’s a relief to finish. I feel we did Matt justice. Now if I could help cast him? Icing on the cake.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “When will you head home? I’m not trying to get rid of you. Mother and Resa will die when Warren leaves.”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s stayed so long. He’s had a blast hanging with Resa at the salon and going to all the social events with her and your mom. But we need to get back to Atlanta. I’ll give him the news and start packing.”

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She answered it as Chris slipped out.

“Hello?”

“Hello, my beautiful.”

Freaking
Mario was calling her?

“I’m definitely changing my cell number.”

“Karlyn. Always so dramatic.”

“No, that was your specialty. Tantrums. Mood swings. Excuses for sleeping around. I’m hanging up. Goodbye.”

“Wait!”

Karlyn knew she should cut the connection, but the writer in her thought she might get something good from whatever her ex-husband wanted. He was a recipe for disaster. Might as well see what he asked for. Maybe he’d provide fodder for a creepy character down the road.

“My Karlyn, I have missed you.”

“Cut to the chase, Mario. You want something. What?”

He began cursing in Spanish, his mother’s tongue. Then Italian, which he’d picked up in art school in Florence. She rode out the torrent of words, waiting for him to wind down.

“You are so petty, my darling.”

“You treated me like shit, Mario. Stomped on my heart. Spit it out. How else would you expect me to be toward you?”

“Well, I do have a small request. I want to see you. I heard your father passed. I should comfort you and your mother. And possibly borrow a bit of money. Maybe as a commission.”

She expelled a loud breath, furious at his nerve. “You have got to be kidding.” She almost went on her own cursing rant but decided a cool head would prevail. She’d take a firm tone with him, like a parent with a naughty child. “We are divorced. I gave you the condo. The furnishings. It’s over between us. I’d give a homeless person my last dime before I’d see it in your greedy hands.”

Her ex let out a long string of profanity in multiple languages. Karlyn hung up and turned her phone off rather than listen to his tirade. She knew it would infuriate him—which gave her pleasure. He didn’t have the unlisted number of the Walton Springs’ house landline. He’d always left details like that up to her. She made a note to change her cell phone number tomorrow.

Yet she was curious. How could he go through that kind of cash so fast, assuming he’d listed and sold the condo. Gambling? A mistress?

She didn’t care enough to Google it. Mario was the past. She looked forward to her future.

Karlyn thought about it. Georgia was growing on her. Technology made it easy to stay in touch. She could write anywhere. Look at Chris. He pulled seven figures easily and lived over two thousand miles away from the major studios.

Maybe she could buy a Victorian in Atlanta. She loved the architecture and pace of the city from book tours she’d done. The outstanding food and terrific museums made it an attractive place to live.

Yet she had to admit she felt the tug to stay close to her mother. Maybe the time had come for a fresh start in their relationship. Walton Springs was an idyllic town with big city conveniences a short drive away. It might be the place to put down roots.

And Logan Warner’s face kept popping up in the equation. True, she was nowhere near wanting to become involved with a man, but if she were? Logan would be a good place to start. And end. What was not to like? Intelligent. Sexy as hell. Dedicated to his job.

Maybe she would stay in the Springs.

“The witness is dismissed. Court is adjourned for the lunch break and will reconvene in two hours.”

Logan left the stand and exited the courtroom. He saw Brad on a bench talking on his cell.

Brad caught sight of him and waved. “Okay, babe. Looks like it’s my turn to testify. My partner finished. See you tomorrow at eight.” He pocketed his phone. “It go okay?”

Logan nodded. “You know me. With my detailed notes, I’m the last person that some public defender would trip up.”

“A true blue Boy Scout to the end. Maybe that could be your campaign slogan. Has a ring to it. Of course, nothing will ever beat
I Like Ike
or
Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too
.”

Logan ignored the comment. “The judge sounded the lunch horn as I was leaving. I guess you’ll be stuck here till mid-afternoon. Want to grab a bite during the recess?”

Brad shook his head. “I got a call a few minutes ago to pick up my car. I dropped it off this morning and had new tires put on. I’ll grab a sandwich and the car. Then return here and testify. I’ll see you back at the house.”

Logan stepped out into a sweet spring day. Not a cloud in the sky and only a slight breeze. He decided to see if Rick Mabry was available. They’d graduated from the same patrol class in Atlanta. Both gravitated back to their hometowns. Rick made lieutenant a few months ago and ran a squad room not two blocks from the county courthouse.

He dialed the number. “Hey, Rick, it’s Logan. I wrapped up testifying and wanted to see if you were free for lunch.”

“Perfect timing. Ensenada okay? Order me the daily. I’m leaving now.”

“Will do. See you in five.”

Logan cut around the corner and entered the restaurant. He grabbed a booth and ordered two iced teas and two daily specials. By the time the chips and salsa arrived, Rick slid in across from him.

“How’s Fountain Valley these days?”

Rick shoveled a few chips in. “Busy morning. Had to deal with an EEOC discrimination charge, so I spent a couple hours in HR. I think it’s all settled. How about you?”

Logan grinned. “Got the number of signatures I needed and paid my filing fee. I’m officially a candidate in the May election. You might be sitting with the next chief of police in the Springs.”

Rick let out a low whistle. “That’s awesome. You have what it takes to lead a department, Logan. You start campaigning yet?”

“No.” He laughed. “I know I’ll need signs. I moved enough of them around twenty years ago. Might as well give other enterprising teens the same opportunity.”

Rick thought about it. “Set up some informational meetings. You know, your ideas on what you’d change. And a website is a must. Maybe some flyers. And tweet. A lot.”

“I met an author recently. I know she has a website. Maybe I can pick her brain about how to engage voters through social media.”

His friend’s eyes gleamed. “A she? Who’s this author? And why would she take up with a sorry SOB like you?”

“It’s Karlyn Campbell, the—”

“—mystery writer. No way! She’s amazing. Even keeps me guessing till the end.” He eyed Logan. “And those back cover photos? Scalding hot, bro. Those brilliant green eyes scream fuck me, baby.” Rick studied him. “So you know her well enough to pick her brain? You’ve been holding out on me, Warner.”

Logan shrugged. “We’ve had dinner a couple of times.”

Rick leaned across the table and punched him on the shoulder. “Dinners. Yeah.”

The server arrived with their platters, preventing Logan from answering. His friend doused the entire meal with salsa while Logan busied himself buttering a corn tortilla and rolling it up.

The men ate in silence a few moments, savoring the best Mexican food in the area.

“I think it’s good you’re having dinner with a lady.”

Logan raised his eyebrows.

“Seriously. It’s been a long time between dates. You need to get out more. Hell, I can’t wait to tell Hildy you’ve been seeing Karlyn Campbell.”

Before Logan could reply, Rick’s phone buzzed. He busied himself with the last bites of his meal while Rick took the call.

“God, no. Not here. Who did? Okay. Be there in ten. Don’t let him talk to anyone but Brady and Malone. I’ll check the crime scene first and then come back to see how the interview went.” Rick ended the call and sat there, an odd look on his face.

“Bad news?”

His friend grimaced. “Looks like Roy G. Biv has hit Fountain Valley. An art teacher didn’t report for work this morning. Didn’t call in for a sub. Wasn’t answering her phone. Her principal went to her house to check on her. Saw the body through the window, in all its painted glory.”

Rick tossed his napkin on the table. He pulled out a twenty and dropped it there. “I got it. You up for heading over there with me?”

“Sure.”

It was the first—and last—thing Logan wanted to do.