Dead Women Tell No Lies (9 page)

She turned to find the door to the abandoned restaurant open.

What was going on? She crept forward. The outside streetlight lit the room. In the puddle of light on the floor, lay a severed hand holding a rose.

Chapter 6

Rose hovered near the stairs to her apartment. She gestured toward the empty restaurant. “I can retrace my steps and show you how I found the hand and flower.”

“Stay where you are.” Lennox crossed the hall and stopped at the open doorway. He reached inside and the click of a switch echoed in the empty room. “Electricity’s not working. I doubt Dean would shut the service off. It’s not good for showing a space to prospective renters.” Lennox entered the adjacent room. “Someone removed the light bulbs. Answers the power question.”

She climbed a couple of steps and stretched up on tiptoes to spy through the open doorway. What was he doing in there? Were more body pieces scattered across the floor? She pressed her fingers to her mouth and fought the urge to run upstairs.
Buck up, Blue.

She drew her gun and crept into the restaurant. Lennox was shining the beam of his flashlight over the severed hand. Somewhere a handless person must be spouting a pool of blood. She gulped a deep breath and prayed everything would stay put in her stomach.

He turned around and crossed the floor to her. “You were to stay near the stairs.” He extracted the weapon from her hand. “We’ll head up to your place.”

They walked in silence to the staircase where she couldn’t wait any longer “What did you find?”

“Rubber hand, the type you can buy at a costume store.”

“What? A sick-o left the body part as a joke?” She couldn’t believe it. “I’m not laughing.” At least her queasiness disappeared. “How about the flower?”

“Fake too.”

She cleared her throat. “You shot over to my apartment for nothing. I apologize.” She pivoted around to go upstairs.

He cut in front of her, blocking her escape. “You’re missing the big picture. Whoever left the presents wanted to scare you or worse. The perpetrator painted the fingernails
blue
along with choosing a
blue
rose for you. He was sending a message and not a friendly one, Miss
Blue
.”

Nerves jangled in her stomach. “You think it’s the same person who left the newspaper clipping?” She chewed on her last remaining fingernail. Had someone hidden in the defunct restaurant, left the gifts and watched her discover them? She glanced into the corner shadows, and her hand slid toward her empty pocket. She should retrieve her gun.

“I can’t rule it out. Whoever dropped off your newest presents is at the least, a sadist who gets off on scaring women. Listen, I’ve a guest room at my house. You’ll have plenty of privacy, and no one will bother you. I live alone, and I’m not home much. You can lay low until you find another place.”

No, she wouldn’t leave Dahlia. She had to try and talk to her and learn who’d killed her. “I’m sure it’s all a sick joke. Maybe a teenager left me the hand and flower. My sister’s story was in all the papers and on TV.” Yes, that was reasonable. She felt better already.

“Does your answer mean you’re rejecting my offer?”

“I am. I’m not giving that creepy person the satisfaction of thinking he scared me over a couple of pieces of plastic. Besides, this type of gag sounds like a kid’s idea.”

“You’re aware of my professional opinion to the contrary.”

“I get it.”

“Then stay glued to your spot while I look around some more.” He dug out a mini flashlight and stole back into the empty restaurant.

Her nerves tightened and twanged. She didn’t like being alone after her new discovery. She skirted the doorway. “See anything?”

He moved closer to the restaurant’s main entryway and shone the light on the frame. “The lock was picked. Must be an amateur from the marks left. I can dust for prints after you’re upstairs.” He placed a gloved hand on the knob and gave it a twist. The door swung open with a creak of protest.

Rose crept forward. The musty odor followed her across the room. She swung a glance around the grimy dining area. A person could hide behind the long bar in the rear. A sick dread squeezed her chest as she inched toward the counter, and then, held her breath and peeked behind. A torn and dirty mattress lay on the floor. “A person’s living here,” she yelled. “I bet it’s the stalker who chased me. If you hadn’t shown up the other night…”

“Forgot how to stay in one place, Rose?” He was beside her in seconds. He flashed his light over the bedding. “The blanket probably belongs to a homeless person. The shelters close this time of year, but the nights are still cold. They search for cover wherever they can. It’s not unusual to find them in an unused or a deserted business like this one.” He rested his flashlight on the bar top. “When the weather warms up, they’ll camp down by the river. The bank is a mixture of teens seeking privacy and street people hanging out.”

“I hope you’re right.” A person who lived under the stars seemed harmless compared to a homicidal maniac hiding under her bedroom. “Though I’m not sure a street person living in a tent or makeshift house could afford to buy a plastic hand and a rose.”

“Stealing or finding them in the trash are possibilities. I’m calling in my men. We’ll work the restaurant. You need to leave.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her across the floor.

“Lennox, you must have been a bodyguard in another life. I like it.”

“I’m just doing my job, Miss Blue.” He released his grip in the hallway.

“Some stranger holed up underneath my apartment makes me crave my gun.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I won’t use it since I’ll be okay with you downstairs.”

“I want you to remain locked in your apartment the rest of the night. Don’t wander out. I’ll talk to Dean and find out if he knows anything about his uninvited guest.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of coming downstairs, and I don’t sleepwalk. I hope you find who left the gifts.” She headed upstairs with the detective ushering her from behind.

The sound of the main door slamming followed by shuffling footsteps sounded in the downstairs hall. Rose froze on the stairs. Lennox halted a step behind her.

Was her stalker brave enough to walk inside with law enforcement present? Had she deluded herself into believing he would stay hidden and away once he saw she wasn’t alone? Her hand went to her empty pocket. She turned around and faced the detective. “You have my gun,” she whispered.

“I know.” He made no move to retrieve it.

The footsteps grew louder. She braced herself, gripping the rail and fastened her attention on the figure jogging up the stairs. He raised his head, and his step slowed when he spotted them.

“It’s my neighbor.” She stopped clutching the banister. The young man slipped in and out of his apartment across the hall at all hours. He was about twenty, tall and wiry. As he drew closer, he shifted green eyes toward her and slid them away with a blink. His bandanna‒wrapped head bobbed an acknowledgement.

The guy was strange, no doubt about it. He always dressed in the same clothes: jeans held up by a black belt that appeared ready to fall off his slim body with one release of a belt hole. A gray jean jacket and a pair of scratched work boots topped off his ensemble. Around his neck, a cross hung from a chain and clunked against his chest with each step. The weight of the crucifix could easily tip him over. He was probably stronger than he appeared. The young man carried a boom box in his tattooed hand. His gaze landed on Lennox and flickered away.

He stopped two steps below Rose. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“You tell me,” Lennox said.

“I got nothin’.” He shrugged and pointed above. “Gotta go.”

The detective cut in front of him and held up his badge. “Remember me? I’m Detective Lennox. We spoke the other day about your former neighbor, Dahlia Blue.”

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I hardly knew her. What’s up? Did another person die?”

“I’m here about a break-in. We found the connecting door open, and the closed restaurant’s locks picked. Have you seen any strangers entering or hanging around the building?”

“No.” He shot a glance toward the entry and back to Lennox.

“Any ideas who broke in?”

“Nope. But book ’em.” A grin spread across his face.

Lennox’s jaw tensed. “This is serious. A woman died. The moment you see anyone prowling around inside or out, you call me immediately. You have my number. Use it. Do you understand?”

“Right, I sp-eye.” He pointed to his eye with a grin that disappeared when Lennox glared at him. “I really gotta go now.”

Lennox stepped aside, and her neighbor thudded up the stairs.

“Does he resemble the man who ran after you?” Lennox asked Rose, watching the young man disappear into the upstairs hallway.

The question set free the quivering in her stomach. “No, why would he bother to chase me on Main Street when he lives across the hall and could catch me coming or going?”

She caught the flicker of disagreement as he raised one brow at her. “I don’t know much about him. We’ve never been introduced. I nicknamed him Bike Boy.”

“His name’s Todd Clark. He’s twenty years-old, works as a fast food cook and lived on the outskirts of Ledgeview with an aunt until about two months ago when he moved into this building. After Detective Conroy and I interviewed your Bike Boy, we paid the aunt a visit. She knows nothing is her story. Todd claims he only saw your sister twice. Both times, he passed her in the hall without speaking.”

“He could be lying.”

“I believe everyone’s lying until I find collaboration.” He held out his palm for her to continue upward.

“Distrust in a police detective is a reassuring trait,” she tossed over her shoulder. “No one will put something over on you.” She ran up the rest of the stairs energized by the lure of security. No newspaper article met her at her apartment doorway. What a relief.

Lennox insisted on checking inside before she entered.

She waited two minutes and then crossed her front door threshold. The odor from this morning’s toast greeted her as she walked inside.

He reappeared in the kitchen. “You were supposed to wait for the all-clear from me.”

“I feel safer inside the apartment. No monsters under the bed, I presume.”

“Do not open up for anyone and call me anytime. Got it?” He handed her the key. “Your weapon is on the counter. The safety is on. Put it away.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He turned to go.

Maybe she could delay him. “Lennox?”

He paused with his hand on the knob.

What should she say? I want you to stay with me? Her mind went blank as he skimmed a gaze over her face.

“Rose?”

“Sorry, I wanted to say, thanks.”

“I’m—”

“You’re just doing your job. I know.” She shut the door and listened to the sound of his footsteps until they faded away. Detective Lennox would be easy to get used to having around. He was also great to look at, and his confidence added a sense of protection she lost when she was alone. At least he’d be nearby for a while. She paused, struck by her own foolishness. He was a policeman, not Superman. But what was the harm in a little fantasy? She needed a lift.

Not that he’d care about a woman who screamed when she found a plastic hand. She wasn’t off to the best start in Ledgeview.

Stepping into the small living room, she walked past the sofa and chair covered by tan throws and crossed to her sister’s pine bureau. Rose took out her silver chain with the butterfly pendant from the drawer. The small rubies decorating their wings winked in the light from the lamp.

Rose closed her eyes and felt the wet tears trickle down her cheeks. “I miss you, Dahlia. I prayed for you to come home.”

The day she’d confronted her sister at their store crashed into her memory. Dahlia had denied stealing from their store to Rose’s face. Rose had yanked off her butterfly chain and thrown it at Dahlia. “I can’t believe a word out of your mouth. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Afterwards, Rose found the necklace on the floor where her sister let it fall.

If she’d never said those words to Dahlia, she’d still be alive. Rose wouldn’t be alone. With trembling fingers, she fastened the jewelry clasp around her throat. What had happened to her sister’s necklace? Unlike Rose, Dahlia never removed her favorite piece.

Rose studied the butterfly in the mirror above the chest. “I will find Dahlia’s killer. I won’t let him scare me away.”

Her image in the glass rippled and warped before suddenly clearing. “What—?”

She squinted at her likeness. Where was her jewelry? It was missing in the reflection. What was going on? She peered closer. A birthmark marked her chin in the mirror—Dahlia’s birthmark.

A cold sweat popped out on Rose’s forehead. With unsteady hands, she reached up toward her neck. The cold metal tip of the pendant against her fingertips told her the truth. She was wearing her necklace.

Her sister whispered, “We will be together. Soon.”