Wake Up to Murder (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 2) Page 14

  The blood rushed from Ricki’s head all the way down to the bottoms of her feet. The room started to spin and go black.

  “Who is this witness?” The words came out with a lot of effort. She was desperately trying not to get up from the table and flee.

  “It was an anonymous tip.”

  “How do you even know it’s legit?”

  “We don’t, but we have to explore everything that comes in.”

  “This witness actually saw Ricki?” Becca said. “Our Ricki, who has never punched a person in the face? She probably never even squished a spider.”

  “It’s true. I flush them.”

  “Can we stay focused, please?”

  Ricki mouthed the word sorry.

  “The witness gave a crystal-clear description of you. I’m sorry. Unless you can come up with an alibi to clear your name, I’m going to have to proceed with my suspicions.”

  Ricki couldn’t find words, but luckily, Becca could. “What did you wear that night, honey?”

  “I don’t remember.” Ricki had to think really hard because thoughts weren’t coming very easily. The one thing she did remember was that Kari insulted the way she dressed. That’s what prompted her to ask Becca for an outfit to wear on the show. “I think I wore a pair of black pants with a powder-blue colored blouse and this vintage vest that I bought at an antique shop.” She snapped her fingers as it all came back to her. “I also had on a pea coat.”

  “What color was this coat?” Steve asked.

  “Red. If you don’t believe me, talk to Bryce, the manager at Hilltop Inn. He should know. And maybe they have a surveillance camera.”

  “I’ll do that. The witness said you were wearing a black trench coat.”

  “I don’t even own a black trench coat. I’m not that cool.”

  Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “I have hope for you, yet. Anyway, just to give you a heads up, you’ll soon be dealing with a new homicide detective.”

  “Are you recusing yourself because things are looking bad for me?”

  Steve let out a little laugh. “Not quite. I am getting married and moving to Denver.”

  “I didn’t get my invitation,” Becca said, sarcastically.

  “We’re getting married in Hawaii. Just family. Sorry.”

  Ricki wanted to be happy for Steve, but the thought of not having an alibi and someone claiming to have seen her on the night Kari was murdered didn’t exactly make her feel like talking about weddings in Hawaii. But since her mother taught her never to be rude, unless someone deserved it, she said: “Congratulations. Is this the girl you met online?”

  “It is. Anyway, I’ll be leaving by the end of this week. Someone will take over for me. You’ll meet him soon.”

  The police officer that came in with Steve hovered about at the front of the restaurant. “That isn’t him, is it?” Becca said.

  “No, that’s just an officer who happened to walk in the exact same time I did. We’re supposed to talk a few things over, so I have to get out of here.” Steve stood to leave. “In the meantime, Ricki, you need to find someone to come to your defense. Otherwise, this isn’t going to turn out well for you.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “You don’t really think she did it,” Becca said.

  “Personally, of course not. Professionally, I have to deal with the facts that are given to me. Don’t fret. I’m working on your behalf.” He waved as he left.

  “Can you take me home? I suddenly feel like barfing.”

  “Let’s go. You can always use me as an alibi. I’d lie for you.”

  “That’s good to know, but I’d never ask you to lie for me.”

  “Maybe you really should start pointing the finger at Taryn.”

  Ricki was going to do more than point the finger at Taryn. She was going to prove she did it.

  Twenty-one

  After her conversation with Steve, Ricki went home and cleaned. She washed loads of laundry, cleaned out all her closets, rearranged the living room two times—the first time to change it around, the second time to move it back to where it was. Even with a bad wrist, she managed to find a way to keep busy. It was either clean the house or explode.

  Someone was more than out to sabotage her career; they were out to sabotage her whole existence by framing her for a murder she didn’t commit. Someone claimed to have seen her on the night Kari died? Nope, it wasn’t her. But why would someone try to pin the murder on her? What was going on?

  The lack of evidence in this case added to her confusion. There were hardly any clues to Kari’s death. No signs of struggle. No paper trails or digital trails leading back to the killer. No known enemies. This alleged stalker seemed to be more of a phantom presence than an actual human being. Even the media ignored the case for the most part. Every once in a while, she would see something online about it or hear a quick mention of the reward and hotline on the radio. The case seemed to be of little interest to anyone but her and the police, who suspected Ricki had done it. Once the police dusted Kari’s car for fingerprints and searched every inch of it, they still didn’t have any leads. Nothing. It was the most baffling case she had ever worked on. Okay, so it was only the second case she had ever worked on, but still. At least Jennifer Barnes left behind a trail of clues before someone offed her. But, then again, she knew someone was after her.

  Who was with Kari on the night she died? Maybe Marty would know something. He was on his way over to her house for the dinner she had promised to make for him. Or sort of make for him. He loved her mother’s meatloaf, and since it was one of the few things Thea could make well, she was taking care of that. Ricki prepared the rest of the dinner: mashed potatoes and gravy and sautéed green beans. Sautéed was a generous term. The green beans were frozen in a butter sauce. All she had to do was throw the contents in a skillet and turn on the stove. Marty wasn’t picky, so she wasn’t worried about offending his taste buds. She watched him eat baked beans out of a can once.

  The front door opened. “Honey, it’s me.” Thea walked in carrying a foil covered loaf pan on a tray. “This just came out of the oven. No need to heat it up or anything. What time are you expecting him?”

  “He should be here within a half an hour. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” She gave her mom a hug and a peck on the cheek. “I can’t cook meat to save my life.” Rumpus nudged her leg. “I’ll save you a piece if you promise not to beg.”

  “I better skedaddle before he gets here. Don’t want him thinking I cooked the food.”

  “The cat is already out of the bag, Mom. He knows I can’t cook.”

  Thea stepped back and studied her daughter. “Does this mean you two are getting back together?”

  “That ship has sailed. We’re reconciling our friendship. That’s all.”

  “Good. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want to be hurt again.”

  “I loved him until he left you for that woman.”

  Ricki’s breath caught in a hitch. “What? How did you know about that?”

  She cupped Ricki’s face in her hand. “Why else would someone throw a near perfect relationship away?”

  “It wasn’t that perfect.” Her chin quivered. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

  “No. I figured you would eventually. I lost my first love the same way.”

  Ricki threw her arms around her mother. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie. Have fun.”

  Marty smiled as Ricki placed a plate full of luscious food in front of him. “Your mom made the meatloaf, didn’t she?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I used to crave this stuff.” Rumpus jumped up on Marty’s leg. “I’m sure your mommy made a plate just for you.”

  “I did. Rumpus, get down and eat your food.” She placed a small plate of meatloaf and plain mashed potatoes on the floor. “Dig in. Both of you.”

  This wasn’t uncomfortable at all
. Nope, not one bit. Ricki forced herself to stare at the plate of food and not watch the man sitting across the table from her. The last time they had dinner together, a real dinner, was about a month before Marty took a trip to Chicago and ended up meeting someone else. They had tacos that night. For about a year, Ricki couldn’t eat a taco without getting weepy. She was grateful she had moved well beyond that point and could eat tacos with abandon again. She loved tacos. She really missed tacos that year. In fact, she was going to have one for lunch the next day.

  “Hey, sorry for my drunken state when you called me the other day. I was feeling really low the night before and went on a bender.”

  While Ricki was grateful that Marty broke the deafening silence, she didn’t want him to feel like he had to explain himself. “No need to apologize.”

  “Well, after we talked, I did a little digging. As for the person you asked about, Denise Myers? No idea who she is. But I did call the landlord at Kari’s old apartment and talked with him.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Marty chewed a mouthful of meatloaf and held a finger up. “Once her lease was up, he rented the apartment to two guys. I asked if he knew of anyone named Denise Myers, and he said he never heard of her.”

  Not that Ricki was surprised by any of this, but it certainly disappointed her.

  “When we’re done with dinner, can you show me the picture of the license again?”

  Ricki didn’t have that kind of patience and reached for her phone. “I can show you now.” She swiped through the photos and, when she found the picture in question, passed the phone off to Marty.

  “Nope, still doesn’t ring a bell. Too bad the picture is blotted out. Your brother’s a cop. Did you show him this?”

  “He said it’s fake.”

  “That’s definitely Kari’s address, though. I should’ve asked the landlord if there was a female who rented the apartment before Kari did.”

  “But you asked if he knew of the name and he said no, right?”

  “True, true. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  Ricki had to dig deeper. There was a missing piece to this rather convoluted puzzle, and she had to find it so the picture could make sense. She had a thought, but she didn’t know if Marty would entertain the thought with her. Their reconciled friendship was still at a delicate stage, but she had to take a chance. “I know you don’t want to talk about her, but what was the name of your ex-girlfriend, before Kari?”

  Marty dropped his fork on the plate and glanced away. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about her.”

  “Any other time I would respect your wishes, but we have to find out who killed Kari. You see, a witness came forward and identified me on the night of her…you know.”

  Marty narrowed his eyes. “They saw you? They actually saw your face?”

  “No, but they saw my person or someone who looked like me, which is what I’ve been thinking about.”

  “But what does it have to do with my ex?”

  “I’m not asking out of morbid curiosity, that’s for sure. I’m just looking for all possible angles.”

  “I don’t like talking about her. She really messed with my head. I don’t even like saying her name.” The color in Marty’s face drained. His eyes couldn’t stay focused and he couldn’t keep his hands still. “It was a nightmare. I have been working so hard to get over it, including seeing a therapist.”

  “Wow. Sorry. Now I’m really curious. What did she do?”

  He pushed the plate away and raked his fingers through his hair. “No man likes to talk about this sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  The pause in the conversation felt like an eternity. It was like everything had stopped: sounds, breath, pulse, thought. Even Rumpus licking his chops and getting comfortable on his pillow was soundless.

  “She abused me.”

  “I didn’t know. You don’t have to talk about her.” Ricki pushed her plate away, feeling the contents in her stomach curdle. So much for that great meatloaf. “I could offer you pie.”

  Marty laughed for which Ricki was grateful.

  “I’m sorry to bring it up. It’s just that I’m so desperate to find who killed Kari and to get myself off the hook that I’m searching and reaching for everything I can.”

  “I know.” He grew silent. “My therapist back in Chicago thought it was best that I talk about it openly, anyway, with people I trusted. I trust you.”

  “Thanks. But I don’t want to open healing wounds.”

  “No, it’s probably a good idea that you understand what happened. Maybe it could give you a sense of closure.”

  Ricki was pretty much close to achieving that on her own, but if he wanted to talk, she would listen. “Should I make coffee?”

  “No, it’ll probably just make me gag.” He took a gulp of water. “Her name was Michelle Thomas. I went to Chicago to photograph an up-and-coming artist in the area. Unfortunately, he died just recently, but that’s neither here nor there, I guess. Anyway, because Michelle was in the art scene, I ended up meeting her at the gallery on the night of his showing. She was intense. Fiery, passionate, bold, opinionated. There was something about her I was drawn to immediately. We ended up spending the next couple of days together, just talking. I never cheated on you.”

  If it was at all humanly possible, Ricki’s heart just let out a cry of relief. She had been waiting to hear him say those words for over two years. She struggled to hold back the tears at this confession.

  “By the end of the weekend, I knew I wanted to be with her. I wanted to be surrounded by the kind of passion and hunger for life that she had. So, when I came back home and told you about it, I couldn’t see anything else but her. She called and texted me every day after I left. That should have been my first warning sign, but I completely ignored it. It was like I was under a spell or something. I picked up everything and left it behind, including you.”

  “I’ve written characters like that, but they’re usually the bad guy or girl.”

  “Well, that’s just it. She was, or is, the bad girl. Within a couple of weeks, she had told me she loved me. Another warning sign I completely ignored. That’s how messed up I was right from the beginning.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “She had to know where I was at all times. She followed me if I went on an assignment, especially if there was a woman involved. Then the criticism came. It was so subtle that I didn’t even realize it was going on, Ricki. She would make passive-aggressive attacks with a smile on her face or she would undermine my reality, making me question everything I felt and saw around me. They call it gaslighting.”

  “I know the concept. I’ve seen the movie.”

  “About two months into the relationship, I had lost ten pounds and looked like crap. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t sleep or eat. I had a difficult time making little decisions without her input. Something as simple as choosing which shirt to wear on a date turned into this chaos in my head.”

  Ricki’s heart broke for Marty. She wanted to hug and comfort him, to say something that would make it all better, but she had a feeling nothing would make it all right. “How long did this go on?”

  Marty stared at the floor. “For about two more months after that. It was when she hit me a couple of times that I knew I was in over my head. One of my freelancer friends pulled me aside and asked if I was okay, asked if I had been drinking.” He laughed sadly. “The only thing that pulled me out of this, Ricki, was someone insinuating that I had an alcohol problem. Think of that. The abuse I was getting from Michelle paled in comparison to being accused of being an alcoholic. If that isn’t messed up thinking, I don’t know what is.”

  “That’s messed up. I’m so sorry you had to go through this. Where does Kari come in?”

  “That was the next step. She was covering the same story I was about human trafficking and we hit it off. She was like an angel. I know that sounds sil
ly, but that’s how I felt at the time.”

  “She mentioned you hit it off really well.”

  “She saved me. I moved out of Michelle’s apartment immediately after I met Kari. I slept on anyone’s couch who would let me while I got my head together. She encouraged me to go to therapy. Our relationship unfolded naturally. It was like we were meant to be together. I know you don’t want to hear that, but that’s how it happened.”

  Ricki swallowed hard. “No, I get it. Things happen. I write about love and relationships all the time, so I understand. It’s just different when it happens to you, I guess. So, what happened to Michelle?”

  “She stalked me for a while before giving up. Mostly because she found someone else to play with. A musician with a drug problem. After that, I lost track and vowed not to give a damn ever again.”

  “Was that the last you heard of her?”

  “It was hard to escape her. Her name kept coming up, but I distanced myself from anyone who mentioned her. So, when the opportunity came for Kari to take a job back here, I really pushed for her to do it. One, I was worried about her stalker, and two, I just wanted to get away and start over again.”

  “And did anything in your brain or Kari’s brain ever think the two were connected?”

  “No. Like I said, once Michelle found a new plaything, she left me alone. She focused her intensity on someone else. Everything for her was short-lived, you see. Longevity wasn’t in her vocabulary.”

  “How are you doing now?”

  He smiled thinly. “Well, I just lost my fiancée, so that’s all I can think about. The guilt I feel for forcing her to come here is wearing me down.” He bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling. “If I hadn’t pushed her to take this job, she would still be alive.”

  “You can’t do that to yourself. I know, I know, but you have to try.”

  With tears in his eyes, he studied her. “Thanks for being so understanding. I always knew you were, and I admit I carry around a lot of guilt for hurting you.”

  “I’m a Rydell. I’ll survive.”