A Deep and Dark December (9 page)

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to put his hands on her. Either in an embrace or around her neck, he wasn’t sure which. She’d somehow gotten in his head and messed with it. He had to find a way to get her out of it before he forgot why getting involved with her in any way was a bad idea.

The techs had set up their lights, illuminating every corner of the house. Graham found Erin’s phone on the floor against the wall outside the kitchen door. He grabbed one of the techs to photograph and catalog it, then took it out to Erin waiting on the porch.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Be at the station by eight tomorrow morning to give your statement.”

She went down the steps of the house to Keith without a backwards glance. He thought about calling out a goodbye to her, but figured he’d hit his sarcastic limit with her and would only dig himself in deeper.

So he stood there and watched as Keith came around to open the car door for her. Keith, the high school track star. Keith, the hometown boy who’d stayed. Keith, who didn’t say stupid shit to piss her off. Keith, who offered her comfort instead of aggravation. Keith, with the smug look as he got back into his car and drove away with Erin.

Graham wished there was a law against being a self-righteous prick just so he could throw Keith in a cell. He had to remind himself that it was a good thing she had a boyfriend. She was also a witness in this case, the only witness. And he had no business starting something with her when what had happened in L.A. wasn’t completely over.

He watched their taillights until the night swallowed them. A few hearty souls were still camped across the street. The coroner would be bringing the bodies out soon. Graham was sure that’s what they were waiting for. He recognized his cousin Willie and lifted a hand in reluctant acknowledgement.

God, he couldn’t wait to get out of this town.

He walked into the false florescent nightmare created by the lights the tech guys had set up. Night crime scenes were the worst. Everything was lit up like a movie sound stage, giving it an eerie dreamlike quality. The butcher shop stench of death, mingled with the coppery tang of blood, anchored the scene, ensuring no one present would mistake this for anything other than the horror it was.

He found Pax talking to the coroner in the kitchen. He walked in just as Greg’s body bag was being zipped closed. The sudden tightness in his chest caught him off guard. He rubbed at it with the palm of his hand. When he’d left San Rey he’d left everything and everyone behind. Including friends like Greg. Good friends. Somehow taking those friendships with him had seemed impossible at the time. Now it seemed stupid and childish.

He wondered who was left to make Greg’s funeral arrangements before turning his attention to what the coroner was saying to Pax.

“—to the lab, but I can tell you that Na-tabs are prenatal vitamins. My wife took them. If Mrs. Lasiter was prescribed them, she was most likely pregnant. We’ll know for sure after the autopsy.”

“Can you check paternity against the husband?” Graham asked.

Pax swiveled his head in Graham’s direction. “You don’t think Greg’s the father? Why?”

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Graham said. “Just covering all the bases.”

“We’ll check paternity against the husband,” the coroner said. “I’ll let you know our findings.”

“Thanks.”

Graham watched them wheel out Greg’s, then Deidre’s body. He knew well the path his friend’s body would take, what the autopsy photos would show, how he’d look pale and waxy on the table, a Y incision carved and stitched into his flesh. Greg should’ve grown old, died old. If anyone had asked Graham which one of them would be the first to stand over a grave, Graham would’ve said it would be Greg standing over Graham’s. He’d taken risks—too many risks—and survived when more deserving others hadn’t. As usual his thoughts drifted to Patricia. Another person who should’ve grown old and died old. Another grave Graham had to stand over. Another person he’d let down.

Graham shook those thoughts off. That was a bad road to go down, especially now when there was so much work to do.

He turned to Pax. “Did you get the name of Deidre’s doctor from the prescription bottle?”

“I did. I Googled him. His office is in San Luis Obispo.”

“Where she lives now.” Something nagged at Graham, but he couldn’t put his finger on what he was missing. “What’s your take on this, Pax?”

Pax puffed up a little, adjusting the weight of his belt. “From the witness’s statement and appearances, Greg’s death was self-inflicted. Deidre’s… it’s too soon to tell yet, but my gut says murder/suicide. I’d sure like to know more about why they were getting a divorce. You know, other than what my wife tells me she overheard at the beauty shop.”

“What’d your wife hear at the beauty shop?”

“You aren’t serious. That’s just a bunch of gossiping wives and girlfriends.”

“Sometimes there’s truth in gossip.”

“Well…” Pax began. “Not that I listened or anything, but the talk was that Deidre had plans, was bragging about coming up in the world. And if you tell anybody I passed on rumors from the Clippity-Do-Da, I’ll sock you in the teeth.”

That jived with what Erin had told him about her vision of the killer.

Graham chuckled. “Hey, man, sometimes police work is dirty work.” He clapped Pax on the shoulder. “Keep your ear to the parlor door. I’m counting on you.”

“Yeah, right. Next thing, you’ll want me to go down and get a permanent wave so I can record the gossip for you.”

Graham pretended to consider it.

“No way I’m stepping foot in that cackle house.”

He winked at Pax. “We’ll keep that option open just in case. Did the crime scene techs get all the samples I asked for?”

“Yeah. There was one thing they noticed when they moved Deidre’s body.” He motioned for Graham to come closer. “Deidre had a tattoo right here.” He pointed to a spot over his heart. “They said it looked new, still scabby. It was two hands holding a heart.” Pax pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I took a picture of it. Thought you’d want to have a look.”

He brought up the photo and handed the phone to Graham. The tattooed design was of a red heart with a crown on top held on either side by hands.

“The Claddagh,” Graham said. “Good work.”

“The what?”

“An Irish symbol of love, friendship and loyalty. Guys often propose to their girlfriends with a Claddagh ring. My mom has one. How big was the tattoo?”

“About as big as a quarter or half-dollar, why?”

“Just want to put things in perspective. Text me the photo, will you? We’ll want to find the shop that did the work. Maybe someone there will remember her and why she got the tattoo.”

“Sure.”

While Pax worked on sending the text, Graham took another look around the kitchen. The stack of papers on the table and Deidre’s purse were gone. “When you bagged Deidre’s purse and the papers on the table, did you move the furniture?” he asked Pax.

Pax looked up from his phone at Graham and then at the table and chair set. He frowned. “No. I only touched the things I bagged. Why?”

“Deidre’s purse was on the floor next to the chair on the other side of the table. The divorce papers were on table, facing the chair. Why would she put them there like that if she didn’t sit down at the table?”

Pax eyed the chair in question. “It’s pushed in.”

“Right. Someone pushed the chair in. Could’ve been Deidre.”

“Could’ve.”

“Could’ve been Greg or someone else.”

“No one touched that chair since I got here. If not Deidre or Greg then someone else did it. Maybe a third person? The real killer? This is looking less like murder/suicide, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Too soon to tell. We’ll need to talk to everyone the Lasiters knew. Who are Greg and Deidre’s next of kin?”

Pax flipped through his notebook. “Greg’s brother’s in prison, as I’m sure you know.”

He didn’t know. He should’ve known. Would everyone assume he’d kept in contact with Greg and the others after all these years?

“He has an uncle on his mother’s side in Sacramento,” Pax continued. “Deidre has a sister, Denise, who lives in San Luis Obispo and a brother, Darrin, who lives in North Carolina. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Day, also live in San Luis Obispo. I guess they’d be the next of kin.”

“You’d better call Vera and let her know you won’t be home for dinner.”

Pax closed his notebook with a sad sigh. “I’ve never done a death notification.”

“I have.” And he could remember every single detail about every single one. Right down to the noise in the background as he informed parents, siblings and friends that their loved one had died. And now he’d have to tell the family of his old friend that Greg had killed himself and possibly murdered his wife.

“What is
happening
?” Erin asked her aunt, whispering into the phone so Keith couldn’t overhear from the other room.

“I don’t know. Your father thinks… bah! I can’t even say it.”

“What?”

“He had to pay full price for his lunch today at the Do or Dine and now he’s convinced someone is purposely manipulating our abilities.”

“He never pays full price. For anything.” The only time her father used his ability of suggestion was when money was involved.

“I know! And Tera was his waitress. Her mind’s so open to suggestion that her name badge should read: Suggestion Box. Then he went down to Fine’s to pick up a few things for his woodworking club and paid full price again! He’s so discombobulated he’s sure there’s some great universal conspiracy cooking.”

That would explain why all of their abilities had been affected. But… “By who and how?”

Aunt Cerie sighed into the phone. “I don’t know. This whole business has me twisting and turning like a wind chime in a tornado. How are you doing, chicken?”

“I’m okay… I guess.”

“You’ve had a heck of a day. I’m sorry.”

“The premonitions are always the worst for me. I hate not being able to change anything.”

“If you change even one little thing, you could change everything. You know that.”

Erin had heard this lecture before. At least a thousand times. “I know.”

“We were given our abilities for a reason. It’s a great responsibility. I don’t like that your father uses his to get discounts, but at least he doesn’t give people the suggestion to give things to him for free.
That
would be irresponsible. It’s like if I told Paul Webster that his wife is having an affair with her best friend Gina, I’d be changing the natural order of events. Either Paul will find out or he won’t. Although—between you and me—if Paul
did
find out, he’d want to turn the whole thing into a threesome. That guy is into some seriously kinky stuff.”

“Aunt Cerie,” Erin warned.

She hated it when her aunt told her more than she ever wanted to know about the people around her. Cerie saw nothing wrong with using her ability and wasn’t shy about sharing what she learned. She’d supported herself for years off her ‘readings’, which were really just Cerie telling people what they wanted to hear. Cerie’s antics and Donald’s uncanny knack for never paying full price fueled the rumors that there was something strange about the Decembers.

“You know I don’t want to hear about that kind of stuff.” Wait. What if her aunt heard one or both of the Lasiters’ thoughts. She might know whom Deidre was having an affair with. Goodness knew Cerie knew about every other affair in town. “Did you ever overhear anything about Greg or his wife?”

“Hmm. Well, there was this one time—”

“Yeah?”

“You know I can’t delve into people’s brains. I can only overhear what they’re thinking at the time.”

“I know.”

“Well… about a week ago I was in Goldman’s Drugs buying some cream for this rash on my side that the doctor can’t seem to find the cause of, and two aisles over in personal products I caught the threads of some very interesting thoughts. So I moseyed on over an aisle and listened in, which was quite difficult because I found myself in the incontinence aisle.
That
is not an aisle you want to be seen in.”