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“Hello.”
“Mitch, this is Jennie at dispatch. Just got a call reporting a murder. First responders are already there, but the chief thinks you and Myra need to get over there right away.”
Mitch hurried toward the bedroom, the phone pressed to his ear. “Have you called Myra?”
“No, but I will.”
“Good.” Mitch reached for his wallet on the dresser and stuffed it in his pants pocket. “What’s the address?”
Jennie took a deep breath. “417 Lansdowne Drive.”
His fingers tightened around the gun he’d just picked up and he felt his heart constrict. “What did you say?”
“C.J. called in the report. She just found her neighbor Mary Warren murdered.”
He lowered the gun back to the dresser top and swallowed. “Mary? Murdered?”
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I know you were fond of Mary. From what C.J. said, it’s really bad.”
He pressed his hand to his forehead. “Is C.J. all right?”
“She’s pretty upset. She was practically hysterical when she called.”
Mitch shook his head, grabbed the gun again and straightened his shoulders. No time to be upset. He had a job to do. “Call Myra and tell her to meet me there. I’m on my way.”
He flipped the cell phone closed and headed for the door, his thoughts whirling. The memory of Mary’s concern yesterday flashed through his mind.
Guilt pierced his soul. He’d thought about checking on Mary the night before. A call had come in just as he was leaving work, and he’d been tied up until late. When he finished, he’d thought C.J. might be home from the station. He needed to stay away from her, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that if he saw her lights on. So he’d gone back to his apartment, warmed up some pizza and watched a ball game until it was time for bed.
Suppose he had gone to Mary’s. Could he have saved her life? He stopped beside his car and pounded his fist on the roof. He would never know the answer to that question, but he knew it would weigh on him for a long time.
C.J. stared out the window over Mary’s kitchen sink. Otto lay on the back porch, his head resting on his outstretched paws. His cries of distress had now dissolved into soft whines.
She slid into a chair at the table and sat there, staring into space, her hands folded on the tabletop in front of her. Hushed voices drifted from the living room. From time to time the front door opened and closed, and new voices joined those already in the house. Every few minutes another officer, his face pale, would appear in the hallway outside the kitchen, lean against the wall and offer a weak smile in her direction.
Mitch had often told her he had never become immune to the horrors one human being could inflict on another. She realized that some of these men hadn’t, either, although they appeared to be seasoned veterans. She could understand their need to step away from this horrible crime scene for a minute.
Her stomach heaved, and she ran to the sink. She leaned over until the sickness passed, then turned the water on full force and washed up.
A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed and whirled around. Mitch stood behind her, his eyes filled with concern. She collapsed against the side of the sink and stood there, staring at him. With a cry, she threw her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. His arms encircled her and rocked her back and forth.
It felt good to be in his arms. Now that he’d arrived, everything would be all right. “Oh, Mitch, I’m so glad you’re here.”
After a few moments she pulled away and gazed up at him. His jaw twitched. “Are you okay?”
Her stomach rumbled again, and she pressed her palms against it. “Did you see her? Why would anybody do that?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She could barely stand to ask the next question, but she had to know. “Did the killer dip his hands in her blood and then touch the walls?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can get fingerprints, right?”
“It looks like he may have worn some kind of gloves.” C.J. dropped into the chair again, and the key ring in her pocket rattled. She touched the bulge of keys, her eyes growing wide. “The house was locked. I had to use my key to get in. How did the killer leave all the doors bolted?”
“We don’t know, but we’re just beginning our investigation.” He paused a moment, then eased into the chair next to her. He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Which brings me to what I have to do next. We need to ask you some questions.”
“We?”
“Myra and I.”
Of course. Mitch didn’t check out any crime scene without his partner.
Myra walked into the room, sat in the chair across from C.J. and pulled a notepad from her pocket. Her fingers flipped the pages until she found a blank one. A tiny bead of perspiration slid down the side of Myra’s face, and she swallowed several times before she looked up. “I can understand how upset you are. We’ll make this as brief as possible.”
“Thank you, Myra.” C.J. glanced from Myra’s pale features to Mitch, whose fingers still clutched hers. Even if they were trained police officers, C.J. realized that the murder scene in the next room had left both of them shaken.
Mitch cleared his throat. “Okay, can you tell us what made you come over here this morning?”
Where to begin? With the e-mails and the call or noticing the closed drapes?
“Did you hear my show last night?”
Mitch shook his head. “I was on a call until late. Why?”
“Because, because…” Her lips trembled. She glanced around the kitchen where she’d visited with Mary many times. Otto’s leash hung on a peg at the backdoor. The teakettle sat on the stove. She and Mary had shared many cups of tea together, but they never would again. C.J. covered her face with her hands. “Because it’s my fault Mary is dead,” she wailed.
Mitch touched her arm. “What are you talking about?”
Tears squeezed between her fingers that still covered her eyes. “I should have solved the riddle.”
Mitch’s chair scraped on the floor as he pushed back from the table. He reached for a paper towel at the sink and wedged it into her hand. “Here.”
She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. “Thanks.”
Mitch sank back down in his chair and cleared his throat. “What’s this about a riddle?”
She twisted the paper towel between her fingers. “Harley said nobody would admit they were going to commit a crime, but I thought Fala really meant it.”
Mitch and Myra exchanged glances. “Fala?” he said.
The paper towel was now reduced to shreds in her hand. “Mary was just the first. The riddle said there would be four murders. And I don’t know who they are.” She jumped up and stared down at Mitch. “You’ve got to stop Fala!”
Mitch rose to stand beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re not making any sense, C.J.. Who is Fala, and what does that have to do with Mary’s murder?”
C.J. slumped against him, and he eased her back into her chair before sitting beside her. She took a deep breath, straightened in her seat and thought back to the events of the morning before. “It all began yesterday…”
Concentrating on the first e-mail and everything that happened afterward, she related each message and the call from Fala. When she’d finished, she looked to Mitch, then Myra. “In the last message Fala said the first move had been made. Mary must have already been dead by the time I received that e-mail.”
As C.J. finished speaking, Myra made another notation in her notebook. “We’ll need copies of those messages.”
C.J. nodded. “I deleted the first one, but I don’t think I’ve emptied the trash yet. Maybe I can retrieve it.”
Mitch stood up. “Good. Why don’t we go over to your house and do that right now?” He glanced at Myra. “I’ll go with C.J. if you’ll finish up here.”
Myra scribbled one last word in the notebook and closed it. “Sure. No problem.”
“Detectives, could I see you for a moment?” They all turned to stare in the direction of the deep voice. A young man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with latex gloves on, stood in the doorway. Mitch and Myra stepped over to him.
Mitch’s broad shoulders blocked C.J.’s view of the man. “Did you find something, Jeff?”
“Yes, sir. We found a blond hair in the victim’s hand.”
Mitch and Myra seemed unaware that C.J. now stood directly behind them.
Myra leaned toward Mitch. “Interesting. Maybe the killer left a calling card.”
“Don’t know about that,” the man said. “That’ll be for you guys to decide. Just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks,” Mitch said. C.J. started to step back, but Mitch turned before she could and plowed into her. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were right behind me. Ready to go get those e-mails?”
Just then a howl rose from the back porch. Tears welled in C.J.’s eyes again. “Otto. What’s going to happen to him?”
Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll send for the Humane Society. They’ll take care of him until they can find him a home.”
C.J. turned toward the back door. “I want to go out through the backyard so I can say goodbye to him.”
She paused before stepping outside and glanced in the direction of the bedroom. Biting her lip, she said a silent farewell to her friend. She wished she could tell Mary how sorry she was for not solving the riddle, but that was impossible. The only thing she could do now was try to stop Fala before three more people died.
FOUR
As Mitch waited for C.J. to release Otto, he shivered in the cold morning air, but it was more than just the temperature that chilled him today. A cold-blooded murderer had struck in a vicious way, killing a beloved friend and terrifying the woman he loved. If C.J. were right, there might be additional victims. In his years on the force, he hadn’t seen anything to compare with Mary’s bedroom. Overkill. That was the only word to describe it.
The crime scene puzzled him. Surely Otto had barked when the killer entered the house, but Mary’s body lay in bed as if she hadn’t been alerted. And how did the killer get into a locked house with no apparent forced entry? Had they overlooked something in their initial sweep through the rooms? He’d go back after he printed a copy of the e-mails and take another look around. By the time he completed this investigation, he’d probably be familiar with every nook and cranny of Mary’s house.
C.J. rose from petting Otto and touched Mitch’s arm. “I’m ready now.”
Police cars, their blue lights flashing in the early-morning gloom, lined the street in front of the house. Several grim-faced officers silently roped off the house with crime scene tape. A cluster of neighbors stood nearby, watching the proceedings.
“Mitch. C.J.” The voice came from the direction of the neighbors gathered near the edge of C.J.’s front yard. Adam Connor emerged from the crowd and ran toward the fence. Disbelief lined his face. “One of the ladies from across the street told me Mary is dead. Is that true?”
Mitch nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Adam’s fingers grasped the top of the fence, and he shifted his gaze from one to the other, his mouth open. “I-I can’t believe this.” He glanced back at the officers who’d just completed roping off the house. “Mitch, that’s crime scene tape. What’s going on here?”
“Mary was murdered.”
Adam gasped, his hands tightening on the fence. “Murdered? Not Mary.” His eyes grew wide. “When?”
“Apparently last night.” The scene in the bedroom flashed into Mitch’s mind, and he swallowed. “C.J. found the body.”
Adam turned to stare at her. “Oh, C.J., how awful. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I think so. I just can’t get that sight out of my mind.”
Adam leaned against the fence. “I was on my way to the gym when I saw the activity out here, but that can wait. You want me to come in and stay with you a while?”
“I think that’s a good idea, Adam,” Mitch said. “She’s still pretty shaken up and doesn’t need to be alone.”
“I’ll do anything I can to help. Maybe we need to call Gwen to come over, too.”
Mitch nodded. “We’ll go in through the back and let you in the front door.”
Adam raked his hand through his hair. “Mary murdered. I can’t believe it. I just talked to her yesterday.”
“Me, too.” The vision of Mary and Otto walking up and down the street popped into Mitch’s head. No longer would the two patrol the neighborhood on their self-appointed rounds to keep a watch for evil. Instead it had entered her house when she’d least expected it and left a grisly murder in its wake. Mary’s crime-fighting days might be over, but his weren’t. Mitch didn’t intend for this to become a cold case. He wouldn’t rest until Mary’s killer was brought to justice.
C.J. and Mitch stepped onto the back porch, and she grasped the knob of the back door. It turned in her fingers, but she jerked her hand away. She’d left her back door unlocked when she ran to Mary’s. Someone could have been watching. The murderer could be inside just waiting for her to come home.
“What’s wrong?” Mitch said from behind her.
She stumbled backward. “I left the door unlocked. What if someone’s inside?”
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry. Whoever killed Mary is long gone.”
“But what if they’re not?”
He pulled the gun from his belt. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll search the house before you go in.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
She moved out of the way and let Mitch slip into the kitchen. Minutes passed before he reappeared, Adam right behind him. “All clear. Come on inside.”
She shuffled into the kitchen, her face burning. “I’m sorry.”
Adam walked around Mitch and wrapped his arms around her. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”
She hugged him and looked over his shoulder toward Mitch, their eyes locking. It was Mitch’s arms she wanted around her. He should be the one comforting her, but today he was the professional police investigator.
Mitch inclined his head toward the den. “C.J.?”
Adam turned to face him. “What is it?”
C.J. pulled away and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I have to get some e-mails off my computer for Mitch.”
“The ones you got yesterday at work?”
A surprised look flashed on Mitch’s face. “How did you know about that?”
“Gwen told me last night at dinner. She said you were upset about them, but Harley didn’t think they meant anything.”
C.J. closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “That’s what I thought, too, until the mysterious Fala called my show and then sent another message.”
Adam sucked in his breath. “Gwen didn’t tell me about that.”
“She didn’t know. It happened after she’d left for the day.”
Mitch checked his watch. “I really need to get back over to Mary’s.”
“I’ll print out those e-mails now,” she said, heading toward the den. She rubbed her hands on her pants. “Then I think I’ll shower again before I go to work.”
Mitch reached out and stopped her. “Whoa, there. You don’t need to go to work. Why don’t you take the day off?”
“I can’t do that. I have a broadcast to do.”
Mitch waved his hand in dismissal. “Cancel it, or let Harley do it. You don’t need to go anywhere until we find out about whoever’s sending you these threatening messages.”
“What should I do? Hide in my house? No, thanks. Fala isn’t going to get in the way of my show or my life.”
He leaned toward her, gritting his teeth. “Don’t be so hard-headed. Your show isn’t worth the risk.”
Mitch might have appeared concerned about her this morning, but his words told her nothing had changed between them. “Not to you. You’ve certainly made that clear from the beginning, but it is to me.”
Mitch raked his hand through his hair. “Sometimes you…”
Adam stepped up beside them and placed a hand on each one’s shoulder. “Hey, guys, stop it. You’re both upset, but you don’t need to argue. We’ve lost a great friend.” He paused, blinked back tears and took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what. You two get the e-mails, and I’ll cook breakfast. Then we’ll all sit down and try to cope with what’s happened.”
Mitch’s shoulders sagged. “You and C.J. can eat. I’ll grab something later on.”
Adam frowned. “C’mon, Mitch. You’ve got to eat.”
“Sorry, I can’t. The chief will be waiting at the station for me.”
Adam nodded. “Then I’ll call Gwen to come over. C.J. can ride to work with her after breakfast. How’s that?”
She couldn’t believe it. They were standing here talking about her as if she weren’t capable of making her own decisions. “You don’t have to ask Mitch, Adam,” she said. “I’ll decide how I’ll go to work.”
Mitch’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a long breath. “Fine. I suppose I can’t stop you from what you’re bound and determined to do. Just give me the e-mails, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Without a word she turned and led the way into the den. Adam’s voice drifted from the kitchen. She knew he’d dialed Gwen. “This is Adam. Something terrible has happened.” His voice dissolved into choking sobs. “Can you come to C.J.’s house?”
Dreading to open her e-mails, C.J. eased into her desk chair and turned on the computer. As she waited for it to boot, she closed her eyes in an effort to forget the horrible scene in Mary’s bedroom. She could only imagine the message Fala might have left to torment her for not saving her friend’s life.
Finally she opened her eyes, held her breath and clicked. No new message from Fala in her inbox. Cold fear replaced the short-lived relief that flooded her body.
With Mary dead, three victims remained. Only Fala knew their names and the times of their deaths.
Who would be next?
The smells from the kitchen had teased her nose while she printed the e-mails for Mitch, and she’d hoped he would change his mind about staying. Instead, he’d scooped up the papers from the printer tray and headed back to Mary’s without so much as a goodbye.
Gwen dropped the piece of toast she’d been nibbling onto her plate. “I didn’t know you were such a good cook, Adam. Maybe I need to take lessons from you.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Anytime, lovely lady. You know I’m at your service.”
C.J. smiled at the two of them. It was evident the attraction they’d felt when she introduced them a few months ago was blossoming into something deeper. She wiped her hands on her napkin and stared at the scrambled eggs in front of her. Adam had done a great job with the meal, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. She lifted her fork and traced the flower pattern on the edge of the plate with the tines.
“C.J.?” Gwen’s voice caught her attention.
“Yes?”
“If you’re finished, Adam and I will clean up while you get dressed.”
She pushed back from the table and stood. “Thanks for being here, you two. It means a lot to have such good friends.”
Gwen rose and put her arm around C.J.’s shoulder. “We’re glad to help.”
Adam nodded. “Gwen’s right. We love you, and we’ll do anything we can for you.”
Fighting back tears, C.J. rushed toward the bedroom. Maybe a hot shower would make her feel better.
Thirty minutes later her reflection gazed at her from the dresser mirror. The dark circles under her eyes refused to disappear, even with a thick layer of makeup. She fluffed her hair one more time. What did it matter how she looked anymore? Who was there to care? Her audience would never know.
The doorbell rang. Maybe Adam or Gwen would get it. She listened for a moment until she heard the front door open and Adam’s voice. The storm door closed, and she supposed he had stepped outside.
Picking up her purse and coat, she headed toward the living room. She pulled the curtain back at the front window and looked out. Adam and Mitch stood on the sidewalk in front of the house talking. Adam nodded in agreement before Mitch turned and strode to his unmarked police car. When he pulled away from the curb, Myra followed. C.J. let the curtains fall back into place and watched Adam reenter the house.
“There you are,” he said. “Gwen’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
She pulled her coat on and busied herself with the buttons. “What did Mitch want?”
A tiny frown creased Adam’s forehead. “He asked me to keep an eye on you for him.”
C.J. lifted her head and sniffed. “Does he think I need a keeper?”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “Of course not. He’s just concerned.”
She reached into her coat pocket and drew out her gloves. “Well, he could have come in and said goodbye.”
“C.J., give the poor guy a break. You were the one who broke the engagement. If you’d meet him halfway, maybe the two of you could work out your problems.” Adam stopped, and she knew he wanted her to say something. When she didn’t, he turned away. “Never mind. I’ll tell Gwen you’re ready to go.”
Adam’s words made sense. She’d sent Mitch away, and there was no going back. It was too late for them, and now it was too late for Mary. She swiped at the dampness on her face as the words of the riddle ran through her mind. It was as much a mystery to her now as it had been when she first saw it.
She clenched her fists. Why couldn’t she figure out the hidden meaning in Fala’s message? She could have saved Mary if she had. Now she had to live with a terrible truth—Mary’s death was her fault.
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