Oh, I did. Fish mewls. And now I know all about what a lying two-time cheat she’s married to. She told me to stay away from men, and to get lost in a good book once in a while instead.
I nod at the advice Jane doled out. Bitter, but sage, I suppose.
“They found another cleaver.” I shed my wrap and land on my stomach next to her while propping up on my elbows.
The faint smell of coconut-scented suntan oil permeates the air, and that mingled with the briny sea air makes it feel as if summer has finally hit its zenith.
“Another one, huh?” she huffs at the thought. “You know it’s probably just Peter trying to hype his film. I bet if you head down to the local hardware store you’ll see him on the security footage buying out the store.”
Security footage? Not a bad idea, and I tip my head her way to acknowledge it.
“So I take it, the culprit wasn’t you?” I try to laugh it off, but it comes out as serious as a cleaver in the back.
“Wasn’t me by a long shot.”
Sherlock nudges her hand for a quick pat and she’s more than happy to oblige.
Don’t worry, Bizzy. Sherlock whimpers. I’ll distract her with my cuteness. People say the darndest things to me. I bet I get a confession out of her yet.
Jane purses her lips at him. “Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are. Just between you and me, I apologize for ever calling my soon-to-be ex a dog. It was clearly an insult to your kind.” She flashes me a look. “And no, I didn’t leave the cleaver. It’s not my style. I’ve never been one to be passive. If anything, I’ve been known to be blunt.” And use blunt force trauma when needed.
I take a breath at the thought.
“Jane?” I lean in. “You were on the beach the night Heather was killed. Did you see anything strange? I mean, you were walking on the sand—by the shoreline.” There’s no use in pretending. She already knows I saw her covered with sand.
“I told you that night, I was just taking a walk.” She lets Fish jump down to the sand.
She’s the killer, isn’t she, Bizzy? Fish lets out a razor sharp meow. I don’t want a killer holding me. I’ll have to lick myself for two days straight just to get her killer germs off of me.
Good point. Sherlock moans as he moves out of Jane’s grasp.
“Wow,” she muses. “It’s as if I’ve got cooties. Well, I didn’t do it, kids,” she says to both Sherlock and Fish. “I’m not the big bad cleaver wielder. But”—she gives a quick glance around—“I did hear something. I was about halfway to the end of the cove, and I thought I heard screaming. I heard a woman.” Her voice shakes as she leans my way. “I haven’t told this to anyone else, but I heard Heather shouting something about the past. I heard her say the words haunting me.” She shudders. “And then I heard something like the splitting of a melon.” Her body bucks with the memory. “I thought…I thought I was going to catch Peter and her in the act, or in the least an argument.”
I don’t dare take a breath. “Jane, you went down to the end of the cove, didn’t you? What did you see?”
She shakes her head, her gaze set off to the cobalt blue horizon.
“I saw a blonde lying on the beach. I didn’t know what to think. Peter was never violent with me. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t even get close enough to see anything protruding from her body. I thought maybe she passed out. I ran back to the café and that was it. I had no idea she was mortally injured. And then I heard she was dead.” That last word comes from her threadbare as a tear rolls down her cheek. “It’s horrible is what it is.”
“I’m so sorry.” I quickly fish a tissue out of my beach bag and hand it to her. “Jane, did you know Heather very well?”
“Not really.” She takes a moment to blow her nose. “I never spoke with her privately. We were usually in a group setting with Faith and Kiki.”
“Did any of those conversations stick out to you?”
Jane falls back and rests on her hands as she considers it.
“You know, strange things were supposedly happening on set—mostly to Heather.”
“What kind of strange things?” Every cell in my body is at peak attention.
“Things moving around her dressing room. Her personal items missing then reappearing in odd places. Her toothbrush in the toilet, her phone in the refrigerator, things like that. It sounded like nothing more than childish pranks to me, but Heather insisted it was a ghost. So when Faith said we should hire a medium to come to the set, Heather flew off the handle. She said that was evil, and that there was a very good reason we should never try to contact the dead. She said life after death was none of our business, and once you started to delve into it, you would be forever sorry.”
Forever sorry.
“Jane? Did Heather ever mention that she delved into life after death?”
Jane glances to where Sherlock lies fast asleep.
“I don’t know. She didn’t extrapolate and nobody pushed her. She was the star. Half the time we were walking around on eggshells trying to keep her happy. But she wasn’t happy. In her own words, she was being haunted.”
Jane gets back to reading her book and my mind races with thoughts as to why Heather Kent could have been haunted.
Could all of these ghostly encounters she was supposedly having be linked to Rachel Hatterman? And if so, who is this Leeny that Bates mentioned last night?
One thing is for sure—Heather Kent
