Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1) (21 page)

"Don't go getting blood on my white leather
seats," she said.

"Nice swan dive for an old lady," I countered.

I put the key in the ignition and started the car. One a
silent count of three, Aunt Shirley and I popped up into our bucket seats. I
shoved the gearshift down in reverse and peeled out behind me.

I happened to make eye contact with Patty. Pushing down even
harder on the gas pedal, I glanced in my rear-view mirror. I wanted to make
sure no one was coming down the road, since Paige and Mindy couldn't tell me.
They were still screaming in the backseat.

Seeing no one coming, I veered to my left, hoping to make a
wide enough arc I could just throw it in park and haul ass out of there.

Crunch!

I didn't see the mailbox until it was too late. I'm pretty
sure it was a total annihilation by the look of horror on Patty's face.

I yanked the shifter down and shot off like a bat out of
hell, wheels squealing. I looked in the rear-view mirror one last time and saw
Patty lower the shotgun and flip me the bird.

Note to self...the next time you go somewhere where you
might have to haul ass, park with your hood facing the road.

"Damn fine driving, girl!" my aunt exclaimed as she
hit me in the arm. "Damn fine."

I looked down at my hands and saw they were shaking, just
like the rest of me I assumed. When I knew I was far enough away, I pulled the
Falcon over to the side of the road and put it in park.

I turned and looked in the backseat. I'm not sure when they
decided to pop up from the floorboard, but now Paige and Mindy were high-fiving
each other and laughing. Like the last ten minutes had never happened.

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I'd almost killed us
all with my stupidity. Where on Earth did I get an idea I could solve a murder?

Paige looked at Mindy and the two started giggling. Aunt
Shirley joined in with her cackle. Pretty soon the three of them were wiping
tears from their eyes and holding their sides.

"Are y'all crazy? I about killed us and all you can do
is laugh?"

"Yes," Paige said breathing deeply, "because
that had to be the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me. I can't
believe Patty Carter pulled a shotgun on us!"

"Well, speak for yourself," Aunt Shirley said,
patting her hair in place. "I've had tons of excitement in my day.
Although I must admit, it’s been a while since I dove headfirst into a car
window." She rubbed her right shoulder and laughed some more.

I closed my eyes, and admitting defeat joined in on the
laughter. I guess what they say is true...if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

"I've had enough excitement for the day," Mindy
said. "I think I'll just keep my happy hiney at the office from now on."

I put the car in drive and headed back to town. I dropped
Mindy off at the office with a promise not to tell Hank what we had done. I
didn't want to get fired for almost killing his wife.

"What now?" Paige asked.

"Now," I said, "we just go home. Let the professionals
handle this."

"We are the –"

"No, we aren't, Aunt Shirley," I said
emphatically.

"Let's just take it slow,” Paige said. “I need to
finish up some things for my mom and dad out on the farm, so why don't you take
me home."

"And you can take me back to the prison. I want to look
over my notes. Obviously we've missed something."

"Ya think?" I asked snarkily. I know it was
beneath me, but I couldn't help it...especially since it had been my idea. I
needed a nap and a drink. And not necessarily in that order, either.

After dropping everyone off, I drove the Falcon back to my
house and parked it in the driveway. I was really surprised Aunt Shirley hadn't
skinned me alive when I hit the mailbox with her precious Falcon.

I got out and walked around to the trunk. Not a dent. I ran
my hands over the fender just to be sure. Nope...this thing was like a tank.

Opening the front door, it took me a minute to realize
something was wrong. Miss Molly didn't come out and greet me. The weight of the
day engulfed me. I wrapped my arms around myself and started to sob. Walking to
my bedroom, I emptied out my pockets, put my cell phone on the nightstand, slid
into bed, and cried myself to sleep.

The ringing of my cell phone woke me. Snatching it up, I didn't
recognize the number.

"Hello?" I said, clearing my throat. Even I could
tell I'd been asleep.

"Ryli, honey, this is Sister Williams. How are
you?"

Sister Williams? My preacher's wife? My mind was still a
little groggy.

"Fine. What's going on? Is everything okay?" I
couldn't for the life of me figure out why she was calling.

"Oh, yes, everything is fine. Your mother just left
here. We're setting up for the carnival this afternoon, you know." She
said the last part as though I had completely let her down by not showing up.

How long had I been asleep? I looked over at my alarm clock
and saw it was now after four o'clock. I think I said I'd be there around two
or three to help set up.

"I'm sorry, it's just been a long day."

"
Tsk-tsk,
" Sharon said, clucking her
tongue. "You poor thing, I know all about it. Your mother told us all
about Miss Molly and how someone tried to poison her. Why, none of us here can
believe it."

Thankful for the sympathy, I let myself indulge a little in
the pity party. I knew it was silly. Molls was coming home soon...but I
couldn’t help it.

"The reason I'm calling is because I have something for
you, and for Miss Molly. I discussed it with the ladies at the church, and we
believe we have just the thing to cheer you up. They are waiting downstairs in
the basement, do you think you could come over real quick?"

No,
I don't think I can.

But I knew if word got back to my mom that I told the church
ladies I didn't want a gift, she'd probably turn me over her knee. She's always
trying to get me to be more lady-like and genteel.

Sighing, I instead said, "Of course, I'll be right
there."

"Oh, thank you, Ryli. Just come through the basement.
We'll see you in a bit."

Hoping to get this over with as quick as possible, I didn't
even bother changing my clothes. I just dropped my cell phone into my pocket
and whispered goodbye to Miss Molly.

There were only five other cars in the lot when I got there.
I parked in my normal reserved parking so I could enter into the multi-purpose
room downstairs. Not that I was ungrateful for the thoughtful gift, but I was
hoping to get in and get out.

The normal core group of old ladies was just inside the
doorway. A pang of nostalgia hit me when I entered the basement. The room
looked amazing. The church had been putting on the festival for over twenty
years. It was the same thing every year, the booths in the same spot, but
that’s what made it so special—the familiarity.

I wasn’t sure how much longer the older church ladies could
continue keeping up the laborious work before they finally gave out. I knew
soon the reins would have to be turned over to the younger generation.

There were probably twenty booths set up ready to go. They
were mostly different types of ring toss games, a space for the cake walk, a
miniature bowling area, and even face painting. My favorite booth was the
baseball toss. I loved the old-time feel of it. The backdrop had a red and
white checkerboard print, with old-fashioned wooden milk bottles. The baseballs
were white with red stitching. Currently the balls were resting in shallow,
wooden apple-picking baskets.

What I hated the most was the balloon dart booth. While it
was one of the most colorful booths set up, with about fifty randomly colored
balloons attached to white pegboard, I hated hearing the popping of the balloons
all night. It drove me crazy.

I usually ran the duck pond booth. It was safe and easy.
Every kid got a prize, and I didn’t have to worry about getting beamed in the
head with a baseball or have my body pierced from wayward darts. The worst that
happened at the duck pond booth was I got a little wet.

“Oh, Ryli, Sister Williams was just telling us about poor
Miss Molly,” Mrs. Evans said, wringing her hands.

“I told Chief Kimble today when he came over to interview me
that I can’t imagine anyone here knowingly giving you poison,” Mrs. Nelson
added. “I gave him a list of all the people that were helping put food away,
but really anyone could have given it to you when we turned our backs.”

Sister Williams patted my arm. “I guess no one is safe until
the killer is caught. I just can’t believe he was parading around at the
service waiting to get to you. It’s shocking.”

My head snapped. I hadn’t really thought about it like that.
Had the killer been watching me the whole time I was people watching. Whereas I
had no idea who the killer was…the killer obviously knew all about me and my
personal life.

Crap!
 

“Well, I’m sure your young man will wrap this up shortly,”
Bea Sellers said, her eyes twinkling. Bea was the oldest member of our church
at ninety-five. Her and her ninety-year-old sister, Mildred, live together just
two doors down from the church.

“We better be going, we don’t want to keep you,” Mrs. Evans
said.

The ladies left, and weaving our way through the maze, Sharon
led me to one of the islands in the kitchen. There were numerous cakes,
cupcakes, and cake pops stacked on the counter, along with homemade caramel
popcorn balls. Jugs of apple cider and cola were also lined up against the wall
on the counter.

It was obvious a group of ladies had been here earlier
baking. Usually they were a lot tidier, though. There were icings, sprinkles,
and even a little container of sugar sitting out on the counter.

I eyed the cake pops.

Sharon must have noticed. “You want some, Ryli?” she asked.

“Sure do!” I exclaimed.

Smiling, Sharon busied herself gathering some goodies. She
looked slim tonight in black pants and black sweater. If I didn’t know better,
I’d have thought she was going to a funeral. Her mousy brown hair was caught in
a barrette on the back of her head.

“I told your mom and the other ladies to just go on home,
I’d finish icing the cupcakes. I love icing cupcakes…it’s so relaxing.”

Whatever floats your boat there, Sister Williams
.

I just wanted some sweets.

“I know how much you like chamomile tea. I’ve got a little
left in the pot. I fixed some for the ladies earlier to help them relax for the
evening. I’m sure after the stressful day you’ve had you could use it.”

I practically wept. Did this woman know how to take care of
someone hurting or what? “I’m just so thankful Miss Molly is going to make a
full recovery,” I said.

Saying nothing, Sharon finished pouring the tea. She reached
over and dumped in a large spoonful of sugar. I didn’t have the heart to tell
her I didn’t care for sugar in my tea. After a few seconds of stirring, she
carefully slid the hot tea over to me.

“I prefer apple cider myself,” she said as she poured
herself a large glass.

Blowing on the scalding tea, I took a small sip. I wasn’t at
all prepared for the taste...it had a little bite to it. I almost wanted to ask
for more sugar.

“Do you know why I asked you here tonight, Ryli?”

I wrinkled my brow. I was pretty sure. “Yes, to give me a
present for Miss Molly.”

Sharon chuckled as though I’d said something funny. Not
wanting to say something offensive, I blew on the tea then took another sip.

Yep, tea still sucked.

Sharon set an orange cupcake with candy-coated bone
sprinkles in front of me. I’d never seen anything so cute before. I picked off
one of the bone sprinkles and bit into it. It tasted like the stick out of a
fun-dip. It was glorious. I gobbled up the rest of it.

I washed it down with another sip of my tea. I was just
beginning to feel tranquil when Sharon started talking again.

Plop! Plop!

My cell phone sounded from the front pocket of my jeans. Not
wanting to be rude by pulling out the phone in front of her, I carefully
wiggled it out of my front pocket.

Great, it was from Garrett and he was yelling at me again.
WHERE RU? GOING STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL!

I’d forgotten it was sometimes hard to receive calls down in
the church basement. I went to answer him, but my fingers felt funny.

I realized through my haze that Sharon was still talking. I
blinked, trying to focus in on what she was saying.

“I absolutely loathed that woman. The nerve of her coming
over to the parsonage to tell Pastor she was going to push for our pay to be
cut. She wanted to bring in a youth pastor to generate new blood. New blood! Who
did she think she was?” I could see spittle starting to gather at the corners
of her mouth. Her eyes looked wild and glazed.

It took me a minute to realize whom she was even talking
about. Not only did my limbs seem to be tired, but so did my brain.

And just like that...everything snapped into place.

What
the fuck, how did I miss this?

I tried thinking back to all the clues, but I couldn’t make
my mind focus.

“I knew I had to do something. One thing about your pastor,
he’s a wimp when it comes to playing hardball.”

I willed my brain to keep up, but I could tell I was
slipping.

“So I did what any loving wife would do when pushed…I killed
her. The bitch once told me that in business you couldn’t have a heart when it
came to doing what needed to be done. Can you believe that?” Sharon screamed,
throwing her glass of cider against the wall. “Who did she think she was?”

I watched as the juice slid down the wall at a snail’s pace.
Or so it seemed to me it was a snail’s pace. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“So I made sure she understood what I thought of her
ridiculous proposal that she typed up for the church board. It was so easy. I
knew her husband would be gone. I slipped some Ambien in Pastor’s drink, took
out my bottle of ketamine I stole from my brother-in-law, and off I went to cut
that bitch’s heart out!”

Her brother-in-law's ketamine? “Wait, why does your
brother-in-law have ketamine?” I managed to ask. Or at least I thought I did.
In my mind it came out clearly.

Smiling a twisted smile Sharon laughed. “He’s a veterinarian
in Columbia. I made sure Pastor and I went for a little family visit the day
after Vera came to tell us what she planned. I went there, snagged a bottle,
and came home.” Her eyes suddenly darkened. “Of course the ungrateful bastard
had the nerve to call me and ask about it! I told him it must’ve been stolen by
one of the people at his clinic, and he should call the police. How
dare
he accuse me!”

I must be delirious because I laughed. “For some reason,
Steppenwolf’s ‘The Pusher’ is swimming around in my brain the more you talk,” I
sneered at her.

I vaguely remember my mom telling me about that song some
years back. I knew the ketamine was kicking in, because I could feel myself
starting to drool, and it took a while to move my arms fast enough to wipe it
away. At this rate, I’d be a goner soon. I needed to keep her talking.

“So that night you drugged your husband and went to see Dr.
Garver, taking your special stash of ketamine. Then what did you do?”

Sharon reached out and pulled a huge butcher knife out of
the drawer. She tapped the blade against the island counter. “I came and got
this knife and the mandolin slicer. I went over to her house, brought a nice
dessert and thermos of hot tea already spiked with the ketamine, and pretended
I wanted to understand her side.”

I’m pretty sure I threw up a little when she told me about
the knife and mandolin. I’d never be able to use a utensil from here
again…assuming I survive the night.

“Oh, she went on and on about the good of the church, showed
me the proposal she’d already typed up to present to the church board,” Sharon’s
harsh laugh echoed off the walls of the room. “I plied her with the tea, waited
for it to take effect like it’s doing to you right now, then hauled her ass up
on that kitchen table and started ripping out the heart she clearly didn’t
have! Then as a nice touch, I went ahead and sliced off her fingertips. Didn’t
want her to use them to write any more nasty letters.”

You’d
just hacked out her heart. Typing a letter would’ve been her last worry, you
psycho
!

Sharon laid her hand on my arm. I glanced down and felt my
skin crawl. “Did you like my little present to you? I knew the minute you
stopped me that morning outside Subway, wanting me to answer questions about
that
woman
that you would probably snoop around until you found out the truth.
So I knew you had to die. Jesus doesn’t like snitches you know.”

I blinked and managed not to laugh out loud.
Should I remind her Jesus doesn’t like
murderers?

“Why kill Iris?” I asked, hoping to stall her.

“I wasn’t sure what that evil bitch had told Iris. I
couldn’t take the chance Garver would blabbed to Iris one day when Iris was doing
her hair. So,” Sharon shrugged her shoulders, “Iris had to go. Iris
swore
she knew nothing when I went over to her house Sunday night. And even if that
was true, she knew too much by then and had to die. One less gossip to worry
about. Jesus doesn’t like gossips you know.”

I snorted.
This bitch
is freaking bonkers!

“Figured giving you the very tongue that came from the
gossipmonger as a gift would finally keep you quiet. Little did I know you were
already fornicating with the Chief, and he’d come calling.”

Fornicating?
I wish!

Calming the hysteria I could feel bubbling inside me I asked,
“I thought Garrett questioned you guys and you had airtight alibis?”

Sharon laughed. “Silly girl. Your pastor wouldn’t know which
end was up most days. He’s not really aware of this, but he’s become quite
dependent on my special drink I give him at night…a little Ambien mixed in with
his two-finger measure of Scotch.”

I’m not sure what shocked me more, the fact she drugged her
husband every night or the fact my preacher drinks Scotch. I suddenly felt
sorry for him. Unbeknownst to him, his wife was drugging him while she wrecked
havoc on the town.

“It makes me sick to watch him drink the devil’s potion.
Jesus doesn’t like drinkers you know.”

I couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter that escaped from
me. I wanted so badly to ask her what exactly Jesus
did
like...but I
knew she wouldn’t hesitate to cut out my tongue. And I kinda liked having one.

Realizing I needed to do something soon, I asked the one
question I could formulate in my mind. “Why kill my cat?” I asked, hoping rage
would bolster me enough to react.

Sharon shrugged again. I was about ready to rip off her
shrugging arms and beat her with them!

“I guess I wanted to watch you suffer. I just wish it
would’ve died so I could torture you with that knowledge while I killed you.”

My phone plopped again. Another text message from Garrett.
WHERE
THE HELL RU?

In her crazy ramblings, Sharon hadn’t noticed the notification
sound on my phone. Hoping to hide the phone, I hunched over and grabbed my
stomach, moaning. “My stomach,” I said and laid my head on my arms,
surreptitiously forcing my fingers to cooperate and text a reply.