road and pulled near the Crown Vic. Barry pulled us back as the paramedics checked over Bradley and a couple of uniforms took out yellow tape and started to wind it around a big perimeter. I looked back to where Bradley was sprawled and tried to make a mental note of as much as possible. One of the uniforms gave me an odd look. I recognized Officer James. He rocked his head from side to side. “What’s with you and crime scenes?”
He’d been the one to find me standing over a body once before. “Don’t say it,” I said, cringing, but he did anyway.
“It’s like you’re some kind of crime-scene groupie.” If Barry heard, he ignored it.
“I guess you know I won’t be getting this case,” Barry said. I nodded in understanding. He couldn’t investigate anything where he knew someone who was involved.
He held on to both Dinah’s and my arm. Partly it was for support since we were both rubber kneed and partly it was to move us away from the area. He led us back to the short expanse of paved road where all the cops had parked. “Okay, you two, stay put.” He separated us and told us to wait to be questioned as if I didn’t know the drill.
The police helicopter kept circling and was soon joined by news helicopters that stationed themselves in hover mode.
It was almost twilight now. I heard a uniform say something about sifting through the area looking for the murder weapon. Sift through the area? I glanced around. We were in the mountains with a cliff that led to green mounds of scrub oaks as far as the eye could see. I hoped they had a lifetime.
I had my fingers crossed on who would be doing the questioning, or more who I hoped wouldn’t be doing it. It turned out to be a waste of twisted fingers. Detective Heather Gilmore got out of another Crown Vic and went to talk to one of the officers.
I called her Detective Heather in my head or when I was talking to Dinah about her. If there was a Barbie the homicide detective, she’d look like Detective Heather. We had a bit of a history. She’d questioned me a few times before when I had gotten in the middle of murders. The rest of our history had to do with Barry. She had wanted him and was annoyed that I had him. During the time Barry and I were broken up, they’d gone out enough times for him to figure that even with her hot body and hot looks, she wasn’t for him. Did I mention she was really smart, too? She seemed to have come to terms with the fact that there was going to be nothing between them.
“Not you again,” Detective Heather said, walking toward me. Her curve-hugging dark blue suit and heels seemed at odds with the surroundings. Barry had been hanging around, but when she arrived, he had left.
Detective Heather asked for my information as if she’d never heard it all before. It was only when she got to my age that she volunteered anything. “You’re fifty, right?” she said, pen poised.
“No,” I said, “not until next year.” I knew it was her chance to make me feel old next to her late thirties. I thought she’d gotten over Barry, but maybe not.
“So, tell me what happened,” she said, flipping her notebook to a new page. I glanced over to where her partner was talking to Dinah, who seemed very agitated and was pointing at her watch. The sky was translucent blue now and there was just a trace of lavender and pink near the horizon. In the distance coyotes were howling, announcing their dinnertime. It had been chilly to start with, but now was downright cold. I was glad for my sweatshirt hoodie, but could have done with a down vest over it. Some cops went by carrying big lights to set up around the crime scene.
I gave her all the basic information about who Bradley was. She looked at my arms and pants. “Thanks, but let’s hear how you ended up with blood all over you.”
I mentioned how it had seemed like Bradley was dead, then it seemed like he was alive, then dead again. “I was back to thinking he was alive and I thought his wife was meeting him.”
“What made you think his wife was going to meet him?”
I was dreading this part, but I plowed ahead anyway and told her about the afghan. I even offered to show her the photos I’d taken of Bradley holding the afghan. Unfortunately I clicked the wrong thing and a photo of Holstein appeared. Detective Heather didn’t seem amused.
In the midst of it I stopped as I remembered the passport and the cash. Without thinking, I’d stuck it in the back pocket of my khakis. I pulled it out and handed it to her. To say the look she gave me was hopeless was an understatement. “Tampering with evidence,” she said as she made a note.
I didn’t wait for her to ask but offered to be fingerprinted and give up a sample of my hair so they could eliminate them.
Detective Heather wanted to know about Emily, but she made sure to tell me I was still a person of interest. It didn’t matter that I pointed out I had no motive.
Down the way, Dinah finished with her questioner and, seeming agitated, took off. A uniform came over and said my friend apologized for leaving, but she had to pick up some kids.
“If the wife left, why didn’t you pass her on the road?” Detective Heather said.
I pointed out the other path. “You should check to see if her SUV is still parked on the street.” I described the location and the stickers on the back window. Detective Heather seemed less than pleased with me telling her what to do. She paused for a beat, then like it was her idea, took out her cell phone and punched in a number. Lucky her, she got a signal. She turned to me. “What kind of car is it? You don’t happen to know the license number?” I told her what I knew and she relayed the information.
“Well?” I said when she hung up.
“No black Element is parked on the street.” She began to ask me more questions about Emily. No matter what she’d said about me being a person of interest, it was obvious she’d now decided Emily was the guy.
The lab people arrived and started processing the crime scene. I gave my samples and I was free to leave. There was only one problem. Dinah was my ride. Detective Heather was heading for her car. I had a pretty good idea where she was headed. I swallowed my pride and asked for a lift.
She hesitated, but finally agreed and I followed her to the car. She let me out in front of my house before she pulled in front of the Perkins’ house. Ryder was walking down the street but stopped when he saw me. The look on his face, and the way he picked up his camera when he saw me, made me look down. It was the first time I noticed the front of my white shirt was splattered with blood. Ryder saw me checking out my shirt and gestured toward my pants. Blood was smeared around the pockets and the front had dirt and grass stains. He nodded toward my hair and I put my hands up to feel it. I could tell it was messy and clumped together. He made a face and I figured there was blood in my hair, too. I must look like an escapee from a horror movie. Now I understood Barry’s reaction.
Ryder didn’t let up until I’d given him all the details. We stood at the end of my driveway and watched as Detective Heather walked up to the Perkins’ front door. I could only see body language as Emily stepped outside. The news about Bradley wasn’t something you said on the front porch, but Emily didn’t seem to want to invite her in.
As I was watching the scene, something surfaced in my mind. When Dinah and I had looked at all of Bradley’s things, there was something we hadn’t seen. Where was the afghan?
CHAPTER 21
“SO, YOU FINALLY SHOWED UP.” ADELE CAUGHT me at the door when I finally got to the bookstore. I’d taken a long hot shower and scrubbed away any traces of blood, but I couldn’t scrub away the image of leaning over Bradley Perkins. Barry had said the first dead body you encountered was the worst, implying it got easier as you went along. I hadn’t planned on ever seeing another body after my first one, but that wasn’t how it worked out. I could speak from experience: It didn’t get easier, and if I saw a hundred, I’d never get immune. I’d taken my clothes, even the things that had no sign of blood, and put them all in a trash bag. I was glad for the cheerful atmosphere of Shedd & Royal and the sense of normalcy.
Adele trailed along behind me, reminding me again how late I was and how she’d had to stay and cover for me even though she had plans. As self-absorbed as she was, she noticed I seemed a little off.
“Pink, what’s up?” I muttered something about needing to talk to Mrs. Shedd. I felt obligated to tell her what happened. Adele pointed toward the table we’d set up for gift wrap. Mrs. Shedd was talking to some customers while she tore off a sheet of decorated paper. I had to give her credit for keeping her spirits up, despite her loss, and joining us down in the trenches for the holidays. She cashiered, helped customers find books and now was even wrapping them.
