Aislinn McFarland clutched her aluminum forensic case and stared at the imposing salmon-colored, stucco-plastered giant before her. Yellow crime tape fluttered in the summer breeze of Northern California.
The house towered above the other homes in the neighborhood, and her resolve to enter faltered. Not because of the smell of death emanating from the front door, but because of a feeling of not having been invited into such a place, a place of being unworthy among such wealth. The feeling of intrusion rose above the summer sun, beating on her head as perspiration beaded on her brow. She sighed, breathing in the humid air and shrugged away the unwelcome feeling.
A young male reporter loped in her direction, microphone clutched in one hand, his mouth open in preparation for a bombardment of questions. He stopped abruptly at one cold glance from Linn and snapped his mouth closed.
“I just got here, Alan,” she tossed over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “Give me a moment to get my bearings before you pester me.”
Alan Barker, zealous for news, frowned. “Talk to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait right here.”
“Linn?” Her partner Steve appeared at her side. “You ready?”
Nodding, Linn dug into her pocket for the metal tin of scented cream she’d stashed there. She set her case on the flagstone walkway and twisted the cap off the container. She stuck her finger in the waxy balm, then spread it across her upper lip. She sighed as the smell of roses helped mask the odor of decay. “Has the medical examiner arrived?”
“He’s waiting for you.” Steve lifted Linn’s case, grasped her by the elbow, and steered her inside the mammoth front entrance.
“Who secured the scene?”
“I did.” Steve pushed open one side of the massive double, oak doors.
Although the home was chilled from air conditioning, the heavy odor of death slapped Linn in the face as she stepped into the marble-tiled foyer. She pressed her lips together, breathing through her nose the mix of decaying flesh and roses.
“Aren’t you glad you added forensics to your job title? You work more with the Crime Scene Investigation now than you did as a detective.”
Her gaze flicked to Steve as her mouth twitched. “Very true. I knew those extra classes would come in handy. After our run-in with Lyman, I figured I might as well. I was doing the job without the title anyway. Where’s the victim?”
“Living room.”
“Anyone taking pictures?”
“I took a few. You can take the rest.”
Two police officers stepped aside as Linn and Steve entered, allowing them access to the scene. An over-sized, stark-white brick fireplace occupied one wall. Equally white furniture was placed at pleasing angles around a marble-top coffee table.
The victim lay face down on a faux-bear skin rug, an overturned wineglass beside a clenched fist. An empty wine bottle rested on the glass-topped coffee table.
“Detective McFarland?”
Linn set her case on the floor and extended her right hand. “Mr. Mason. What can you tell me?”
Brown eyes in a round, ruddy face turned toward the body. “There doesn’t seem to be any foul play. Doesn’t look like a suicide either.”
“No, it doesn’t. But we’ve only had a glance, haven’t we?” Linn squatted and opened her case, withdrawing a pair of rubber gloves. She snapped them over her hands. “How long has he been dead?”
“Approximately twenty-four hours. The man’s secretary found him. She came checking when he didn’t show up for work. According to her, he’s a workaholic. Never misses a day.”
Linn turned the head and stared into the gray face of a man around his mid-fifties. He wore an old-fashioned, silk smoking jacket and nothing else. Muscular legs stuck out from beneath the hem of the jacket.
Turning, she lifted the wineglass from its nest in the long hair of the rug. Light bounced off the etched crystal. Linn raised the glass to her nose, trying to decipher a smell through the death and roses. Merlot and something…else. She wrinkled her nose and set the glass back where she’d found it. “Can we roll him over?”
“Sure.” Mr. Mason grabbed the victim’s shoulders and rolled him.
Linn stood staring down at the gap in the man’s robe. A reddish imprint of lipstick shone up from the concave spot just above the collar bone. “Seems Mr. Vandergiven was on a date, and you’re going to have to do an autopsy.”
“Is that so? I was going fishing this weekend. I was hoping to rule his death as a heart attack or something just as easy.”
“Nothing that easy, I’m afraid.” Linn reached for the camera around her neck and began snapping pictures of the victim and the wineglass.
Mr. Mason squatted, tracing a finger over the lip print on the glass. “My wife wears this shade. I think it’s called Coral Sunset or something silly like that. Looks like a shade of orange or pink to me. Half the women in this town probably wear that same shade.”
“I hope not. It’ll make our job a whole lot harder. We need to question the woman he spent the evening with.” Linn glanced to where Steve waited beside the other officers. “Where’s the secretary?”
He motioned his head. “Crying in the kitchen. Her name is Leslie Baker.”
Linn led the way to the kitchen, pulling off the gloves. Steve followed. He carried a small notepad and leaned against the doorframe as Linn approached the kitchen table.
Leslie Baker sat hunched over a pile of shredded Kleenex, her bleached-blonde head lowered as sobs shook her body. The woman raised red-rimmed, blue eyes as Linn entered the chrome appliance-filled kitchen. Linn’s whole house would fit in this one room.
With a sigh, she lowered herself into a metal chair across from the distraught woman and reached for a tissue. She swiped it across her mouth, removing the rose-scented lotion. “Ms. Baker?”
“Yes.” The woman sniffed.
“How long have you worked for Mr. Vandergiven?”
“Almost six months. He is, was, a wonderful man. Always gave me gifts, letting me take time off. He wasn’t a very demanding boss. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
Linn leaned forward, her elbows resting on the tabletop. “It appears as if your boss had a lady friend the night he died. Would you know anything about that?”
“A lady friend? That’s impossible.” Leslie straightened in her chair. Her eyes focused on Linn.
“Why?”
“Because…Uh…” Leslie grabbed for another Kleenex. “We were keeping this low-key, but…David and I were, you know, seeing each other.” Fresh cries erupted from the woman’s mouth.
Hence the gifts. Linn glanced to where Steve wrote on his pad, the pen scratching out notes. “What shade of lipstick do you wear, Leslie?”
“What?”
“Your lipstick. What color is it?”
Leslie dug through the pile of Kleenexes, showing Linn one with a lipstick smear. “I…mauve, I guess. I change my lipstick to match what I’m wearing. Why?”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Vandergiven alive?”
“Uh,” she lifted her face to the ceiling. “Today’s Saturday, and he didn’t show up for work yesterday, so it was Thursday. I saw him at work on Thursday.” She wailed again. “We had a date tonight!”
“Did Mr. Vandergiven mention seeing anyone else? Any enemies? Business rivals?”
Leslie shook her head vigorously. “No. Everyone loved David. He donated to charities, paid for school programs, sponsored half the town festivals. He was generous.” Her voice lowered. “He did have arguments sometimes.”
“What kind of arguments?” Linn asked.
“Mostly business. Men calling late at night. He’d get angry and go into his office and shut the door. But he never told me details.”
Steve looked up from his notes. “Any names?”
“One man called a lot. Richard something. I don’t remember the last name.”
“Did David seem frightened?”
“No.” Leslie frowned as if considering it for the first time. “Actually…Thursday afternoon he did seem upset. He canceled a meeting and told me not to transfer any calls to him. Then he left early.”
“What time?”
“Around four.”
“Was that unusual?”
“For him? Very.” Leslie twisted the tissue in her hands. “He practically lived at the office.”
Linn rose slowly. “Thank you, Leslie. We may need to speak with you again.”
Leslie fished a business card from the pocket of her jacket. “Please give me a call if you think of anything.” She rose from the chair and preceded Steve out of the room. She flashed a smile to see her case sitting by the front door. She wouldn’t have to see Mr. Vandergiven again in order to retrieve it. Clutching the handle, she headed to her car.
“Think she knows anything?”
“No.” Linn opened the trunk and tossed the case inside. “She isn’t the brightest pebble on the beach, if you know what I mean, but I don’t think she’s a killer.”
“Think Vandergiven died of natural causes?” Steve opened the driver side door for Linn, then jogged around to the passenger side.
“Do you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. The lipstick throws a curve on things, though. Doesn’t it?”
“I’ll check the case items tomorrow. Maybe we’ll get prints off the glass.” She reached for the key and paused. “If Vandergiven was on a date, where’s the other glass?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Did you check the sink?”
Steve flushed. “No.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll have the guys look for another glass.”
“And the dishwasher,” Linn added. “People hide things in dishwashers all the time.”
Steve relayed the order while Linn leaned against the warm metal of the car. Across the street, neighbors clustered in little groups pretending not to stare. Curtains twitched behind windows. Wealthy neighborhood or not, death still drew a crowd.
A patrol officer emerged from the house carrying a plastic evidence bag. Steve snapped the phone shut. “Looks like you were right.”
Inside the bag rested another crystal wineglass.
Linn straightened. “Was it in the sink?”
“Nope. Dishwasher. Top rack.”
“Clean?”
“Looked it.”
“Which means somebody didn’t want us finding it.” Linn took the bag and held it toward the sunlight. “Run prints. Fast.”
“You think the date killed him?”
“I think somebody stayed calm enough after finding a dead man to clean up evidence.” She handed the bag back. “That tells me more than lipstick.”
Steve gave a low whistle. “So our mystery woman either panicked and cleaned, or she’s smarter than we thought.”
“Or our mystery woman isn’t a woman at all.”
Steve blinked. “The lipstick—”
“Could’ve been planted.” Linn climbed into the car. “Let’s not get tunnel vision yet.”
As they pulled away from the mansion, Alan Barker darted into the street waving his microphone.
“Detective McFarland! Was it murder?”
Steve laughed under his breath as Linn rolled down the window halfway.
“No comment, Alan.”
“Come on, Linn. The whole town knows you only show up when things get interesting.”
“This town thinks a stolen lawn gnome is interesting.”
Alan grinned. “So you’re not denying foul play?”
“I’m denying your ability to annoy me into giving a statement.” Linn rolled the window up again.
Steve chuckled as Alan threw his hands in the air dramatically behind them.
“You know he has a crush on you, right?”
Linn groaned. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious. The guy practically follows you around with heart eyes.”
“He follows murder scenes around. Unfortunately, I happen to be at most of them.”
Steve smirked and turned onto Main Street. Upton Falls drifted around them in postcard perfection. Flower baskets hung from old-fashioned lamp posts. Couples strolled the sidewalks carrying shopping bags and iced coffees. Children darted between storefronts laughing in the golden haze of late afternoon.
It looked like the kind of town where nothing bad should happen.
Linn knew better.
By the time Steve dropped her off at home, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. She unlocked the front door of her small bungalow and stepped inside. Cool air wrapped around her as she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the couch.
The front of Vandergiven’s house splashed in all its gaudy glory across her television screen. Reporters milled around on the front lawn, jostling for position. Linn frowned and turned down the volume. The newshounds would be bothering her tomorrow, wanting a statement. Especially the young Alan Barker, who seemed to be shadowing her way too much lately.
Her cell phone rang, its shrillness interrupting her thoughts, and she reached for the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Linn curled her legs beneath her, a smile spreading across her face. “Drew.” His warm and throaty voice cut through the phone line, erasing the stress of the day.
“How was your day?”
“Got a call on a dead body. Found in his living room by, of all people, the secretary he was dating.”
“Heart attack?” Drew’s laugh rumbled through the line, and Linn giggled.
“Maybe. But the funny thing is, we found a lipstick print on the man’s collarbone and on his little friend.”
“A parting gift?”
“I don’t know. How are things on your end?”
Drew was silent for a moment before answering. “We got the woman who abducted the baby from the hospital.”
“And?” His voice told Linn there was more.
“We had to shoot her. It was her or the infant. She was dangling the little guy over a two-story balcony. The woman didn’t survive.”
“And the baby?”
“Safe at home with his parents. Luckily, she fell backward. A dangerous gamble, but one that needed to be made, or so the sniper says. Seems the woman was unable to have children of her own, so she decided to take someone else’s. We’ve been trying to locate the husband, but he’s disappeared.”
“I’m sorry, Drew.”
“Yeah.” The silence stretched for several seconds before he spoke again. “Guess what?”
“We’re engaged.”
“Besides that.”
“You’re flying out this weekend.” Linn ran a finger across the scar on her lip.
“No, sweetheart. I can’t. There’re some things I need to take care of here.”
“You promised.” Her heart plummeted to her stomach as his drawl deepened. “It’s been two weeks. A long-distance engagement …”
“I don’t think you’ll mind too much when I tell you the reason.”
Linn sat up straighter. “Tell me.”
“I’ve accepted the job as chief of police there in Upton Falls. Give me a week to tie things up here, and I won’t be gone again.”
Linn squealed. “For real?”
“For real.” His laughter rolled through the phone. “How old are you?”
“Stop. I’m just excited.” For the first time in her life, Linn felt free. Free enough to be who she was and not who those around her expected her to be. “Good. You can help me find the elusive love-interest of Mr. Vandergiven who apparently favors lipstick in the shade of Coral Sunset.”
“Maybe she’ll turn out to be a little old grandmother.”
“Or maybe she already knows more than she’s saying.”
Drew’s tone shifted instantly, detective instincts taking over even from hundreds of miles away. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Linn leaned her head back against the couch cushions. “There was only one wineglass out when we arrived. But somebody washed another one and hid it in the dishwasher.”
“So somebody cleaned up the scene.”
“Exactly.”
“You think homicide.”
“I think maybe.” Linn stared at the muted television screen where Alan Barker now stood dramatically in front of the mansion gates. “And I think whoever was with Vandergiven kept a clear enough head to cover tracks before calling nobody and leaving him there.”
“Careful with this one.”
“You sound worried.”
“I am worried. Every time you say the words maybe homicide, you end up in danger.”
“That’s not true.”
Drew snorted. “Lyman ring a bell?”
Linn smiled despite herself. “Point taken.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful until I get there.”
“I promise.”
Thunder rumbled faintly outside her window. Linn rose and crossed the room, peering through the curtains. Dark clouds rolled over the mountains surrounding Upton Falls, swallowing the sunset in deep shades of gray.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, a chill crept up her spine.
Somewhere in town, someone had shared a bottle of wine with David Vandergiven while he died.
And that someone had walked away without reporting it.
- ASIN : B0BCD5C7DP
- Publisher : Independently published
- Publication date : August 30, 2022
- Language : English
- Print length : 314 pages
- ISBN-13 : 979-8849170107