Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1) (2 page)

I looked in and saw Professor Garver sitting on a tan, leather
couch, a handkerchief dabbing at his eyes. Kimble was sitting directly across
from him in a matching leather chair. My big brother, Matt, was sitting next to
Professor Garver. He must have sensed my presence like only siblings can
because he slowly turned his head and smiled at me.

Matt works as an EMT and part-time firefighter for
Granville. He lives in a nice two-story house off Main Street, which he bought
about six months ago. I was kind of surprised he'd bought it since he already
had a place in town he owned. His purchase was a perk for me, because now he
lets me live in his old house.

Matt has been seeing my best friend, Paige, for almost a
year now, and neither of us can figure out why he hasn’t popped the question.
Paige currently lives in a tiny trailer on her parents’ land. She helps out at
their farm doing the books for her dad and helping her mom when needed. It’s a
large farm, so she’s busy most days.

Paige has been in love with Matt since elementary school.
Matt was four years older than us, and Paige was my best friend…needless to say
he didn't look twice at her. When he joined the Army, Paige took it almost as
hard as I did. She wrote to him in boot camp and then later when he was
overseas in Afghanistan. When he’d come home on leave for a few weeks, Paige
was always certain he’d ask her out, but he never did. When he finally got out
of the military after serving eight years, he decided to live in Kansas City. Paige
eventually woke up to the fact that Matt wasn’t going to be her happily ever
after.

Little did we know what was really going on with Matt. I
found out later that the reason he chose to stay in Kansas City was because he
was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. And until he got help, he didn’t
believe he could come back to Granville.

Kansas City was also where Matt first met Kimble. They were
both at a veterans’ function, and Matt said it was because of Kimble’s help
that he was able to get through what he needed to and move on with his life.

When the chief of police position came open in Granville,
Matt made sure Kimble knew about it and was instrumental in getting his name
pushed through. One of the many perks of personally knowing the mayor and city manager
in a small town.

Matt met my eyes across the room and gave me a slight nod. I
could tell he was taking this hard. Matt was that way. He had a gentle heart
underneath his tough exterior. I like to think he got that from our dad. I
don’t know for sure considering I was just a baby when our dad died in a
single-car collision. But my mom always described him as a gentle giant.

I listened to Kimble ask Professor Garver a few questions,
but the truth was he didn’t seem to know anything. So I decided to head to the
station to drop off my film.

I shut the front door of the Garver house and walked briskly
to my car. Not so much from the cool October air, but because I was still more
shaken than I cared to admit.

I’d parked my car behind the three other vehicles already in
the long, curved driveway. The house was about fifty yards from the street,
which was also deserted this late at night.

The Garvers technically lived in town, but it was on the
outskirts of town, so it had a country feel. The nearest neighbor was probably
a quarter of a mile away, and the driveway was lined on both sides with shrubs
that were taller than me.

The oak tree in the front yard and all the tall shrubs
surrounding the house definitely provided plenty of shade…but also plenty of
protection from an intruder being seen.

I flung the camera bag into the backseat of my Civic and
started the car. I’d gotten the Civic my senior year of high school, and it was
slightly used then. Needless to say, it’s about on its last leg. But she’s a
good car so I haven’t really felt the need for anything else. Who am I kidding,
I couldn’t afford anything else right now...but it was still a good lie to tell
myself.

I pulled into the police station and turned off my car. It
was pitch black outside, and it looked even darker inside the station. Usually
the darkness didn’t bother me, but after what I’d seen tonight, I was more than
a little creeped out. Putting on my big-girl panties, I opened the door and
took out the camera bag. I rifled through my keychain until I came up with the
key to get into the station. Claire, the dispatcher for the graveyard shift,
should be inside. All I had to do was make it inside before I peed my pants out
of fear. Running the last few feet to the door, I unlocked it as fast as my
shaking fingers allowed and pushed it open.

“Hello? Who’s out there?”

“Hey, Claire, it’s me, Ryli. I wanted to drop off the rolls
of film for Chief Kimble before I went home.”

Claire Hickman shuffled into the main room. Claire was in
her late fifties, stood about five foot nothing, and was as big around as she
was tall. She was always bringing in homemade cookies and cakes for the boys,
which was probably why she was as big around as tall. And as far as her
clothing style went—let me just say, she never met a crushed velour jogging
suit she didn’t love. She had tightly curled gray hair that she got styled
every week over at Legends Salon and Nails
.

Pretty much everyone in town went to Legends for either hair
or nails. Or in most cases, the never-ending supply of gossip that found its
way between those walls. The owner, Iris Newman, was known to repeat all the
latest gossip about everyone in town as she teased hair and buffed nails. Of
course there were other hair salons in town, but they weren’t nearly as popular.

“Oh, my God. Is it true? Did someone
really
murder
Dr. Garver? I just can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing? I mean, who
hasn’t thought about killing that old blowhard…but still, who would actually
do
it?” Claire took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For a minute, I thought she
was going to cross herself.

“Well,” Claire continued, “it was only a matter of time. You
piss off the wrong person, and you never know what someone will do. Truth is,
between you and me,” Claire leaned in, looking over her shoulder as though
someone would overhear, “I can’t believe her husband stayed with her all these
years. He’s such a sweet, gentle man. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like
to be married to that bitter, dried up old lemon?”

I thought about what she said. Who would have cause to kill
Dr. Garver? Garver became the superintendent my senior year of high school, and
with her came a lot of changes. Our class didn’t get to do a lot of the things
the previous seniors had gotten to do. So I pretty much hated her from day one.
Juvenile, I know, but it’s true.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Claire said, patting me on the arm.
“You need to get yourself home and have a glass of wine. It always helps me to
relax.”

“I need to stick around for a minute and talk with Chief Kimble
real quick.”

“Uh oh, what did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Tsk-tsk. Girl, when’re you gonna learn not to push that
man. He could chew you up and spit you out before you open your mouth to
scream.”

Wow...hadn’t
I just thought as much?

“Not that being chewed up by that hunk of a man would be all
bad,” Claire winked.

I shuttered. “Gross!”

Claire snorted and turned to waddle back into her cubicle to
wait for another phone call. “Believe it little girl. I may be getting old, but
I’m not dead.” Claire stopped and turned. “Hey, speaking of which, you suppose
it’s too early to call the Professor and maybe see about setting up a date?”

“Yes!”

“You and I both know that twelve other old maids are gonna be
swarming that man in no time. I need to make sure I’m there, too. Maybe I
should call Iris in the morning and make a hair appointment. I want to look
good for the funeral,” Claire said, patting her close-cropped curls.

Shaking my head, I walked into Garrett’s office and started
poking around. I’d been in here tons of times, but usually he was in here too,
so snooping wasn’t practical. The office had white, bare walls, with a beat-up
hardwood floor. His desk was made of metal and looked like it had been run over
by a tank. He didn’t have any pictures or personal items except for a
traditional banker’s lamp sitting smack dab in the middle of the desk.

I walked over to his built-in bookcase and picked up a wooden
box containing a medal. I brushed my hands over it, wondering how he got it. I
set it down and picked up the only photograph in the whole place. It was a
picture of Garrett in his police uniform. He was in the middle, with one arm
draped over a shorter, sandy-haired guy in a similar police uniform, and his
other arm draped over a stunning blonde, who was smiling into the camera. She
didn’t have dull, dirty blonde hair like me, but shiny, silky blonde hair that
I would kill for. I leaned down for a closer look.

She was almost as tall as Garrett, slim, and beautiful. She
had blue-green eyes and nice full lips. In comparison, I’m not all that tall,
have more curves than straights, and my eyes aren’t two-toned complex orbs,
just a simple hazel. Looking at her, I felt ordinary and plain.

Was this woman an old girlfriend or ex-wife? One thing
Garrett never did was talk about himself much. I do know that in the year he’s
been in town, he hasn’t dated anyone. I’ve made it my business to know that
much.

“Are you touching my things, Sin?”

I squealed and whirled around. Unfortunately, I also banged
the picture against the bookshelf. I’m always doing stupid stuff like that.
Instead of answering, I put the picture back where it was. I was stalling. I
didn’t have the courage to say anything yet.

Finally I turned around. “Nope. Just waiting for you. You
did
tell me to wait in your office, didn’t you?” I said defensively. “Believe
me, I’d rather be home right now, trying to forget this night.” For a brief
second I thought I saw compassion in his eyes, but it was gone in the blink of
an eye. Instead of commenting, he shut the door to his office. Great, there
weren’t any windows, and now he’d shut the only way to escape out of the room. No
one could see him throttle me.

“Come here.”

I swallowed and tried to look tough as I walked toward him. I
didn’t say anything but stopped about two feet away from him. He looked
dangerous in his tight black jeans and black shirt. Usually he wears a uniform,
but since he was at home when he got the call, he obviously just threw on some
clothes. He looked magnificent in them, probably even better out of them.

“Closer, Sin.”

I scowled and leaned in. He
knows
I hate it when he
calls me that. How many times did I have to tell the idiot that my last name
was
Sinclair
, not
Sin
. I was almost nose-to-chest with him.

He reached out and lifted a curl from my shoulder, winding
it around his finger. “Leave the investigating to me, do you understand?”

Of all the things he could have said and done, I was not
expecting this. Truth was I didn’t know what to say, he’d caught me so off
guard.

“I’m serious. I heard your questions and suppositions back
at the house.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, suddenly fixated on a
chip in the wall over his right shoulder.

“Yes, you do. I saw the look on your face when you tried to
think of people who would want to kill Garver and all the reasons why. This
isn’t some cute little puzzle to put together, it’s a murder. Leave it to the
professionals.”

I tried to squelch the urge to kick his ass. Mainly because
I knew I’d never win.

He turned and walked toward his desk. “It’s been a long night.
Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be tough, too. I have to do a
follow-up interview with Mr. Garver before he goes to the funeral home, and
then I have to start piecing this murder together.”

“I dropped off the film for you.”

“Appreciate it.”

Garrett didn’t say anything else, so I turned to leave.

“Hey, your brother invited me over for dinner tomorrow
night. There’s no football game this week, so I don’t have to help control
crowds. Anyway, he said if I saw you first, to tell you to come over, too. We’re
gonna start grilling steaks around seven,” he said as he opened the door for
me. “Now, go home. I’ll call you tomorrow if I need you. Oh, and Ryli, I know
you’ll have to write something for the paper, but use discretion, please. I
don’t want anyone knowing that not only is the heart missing, but so are the
fingertips.”

My house is a one-bedroom, eight hundred square foot
cottage. It currently sports a faded yellow exterior with white shutters. I put
a window box under my one and only window in the front of the house to give it
more personality. The porch spans the front of the house and sags dangerously
in some places.

Personally, I love the house. It’s just the right size for
me. And the plus, Matt comes over and mows my lawn. He assures me as my
landlord he’s supposed to do that. I think he knows if he doesn’t mow it, it’d
never get done. When he bought his new place a few months ago, he offered to
let me live here as long as I paid the mortgage. Seeing as how it got me out of
Mom’s house, I jumped at the chance.

I unlocked my front door and stepped inside. I felt a brush
against the bottom of my legs and bent down to pick up Miss Molly. Molls is my
black and white longhaired cat. I’d gotten her from the animal shelter here in
town right after I moved into the house. I hated coming home to an empty place,
so I thought a cat would be the perfect roommate.

And I was right. Miss Molly greets me warmly every time I
come home…as long as I remember to stock up on kitty treats and catnip.

Walking into the tiny kitchen to give Miss Molly a treat, I
couldn’t help but think about what Garrett had said to me. Why on earth would
the killer keep the heart and the fingertips? What did they signify?

I mean, the no heart thing was a no-brainer. Anyone who’d
met Vera Garver knew she had no heart. So I can see the symbolism of cutting
out her heart. But why cut off her fingertips? What on earth could that
symbolize?

“Meow.”

I bent down to pick Molls up and stroked her fur. Her
rhythmic purr calmed me at once. “What’s the matter Miss Molly, you scared,
too?”

“Meow.”

“I know. I’m a little freaked out myself. How about you
sleep with me tonight?”

Miss Molly leapt out of my arms and sashayed into the living
room. Well, I guess that answered that question. Not that I’m surprised, she
hardly ever wants to have anything to do with me. I don’t know why I bother.

I changed into sweats and a t-shirt, grabbed a pint of
Tiramisu Gelato from the freezer, and sat down on my couch. Maybe the mixture
of fantastic Italian ice cream and lack of sleep would give me some ideas for a
story.

Twenty minutes later, not only didn’t I have a story, but my
stomach hurt from all the ice cream I’d blindly shoveled into my mouth. I
tossed the empty container and crawled into bed…Miss Molly nowhere in sight. Big
surprise there.