Murder to Go

Thankfully, not only had the nausea and headache not been as severe as before, but I was also recovering more quickly. It took only a mile or so for my stomach to settle and my headache to fade to a dull ache. All that was left was the slight disorientation, like that feeling I had the first couple of times I woke up in what was once Mom's bedroom, when it took me a moment to remember where I was and why I was there.

As I drove, I replayed in my mind what I'd seen and heard. I started. Heard? What I'd heard? I realized that was the other difference between my previous vision and my first, that something I couldn't put my finger on. I hadn't realized it at the time, but not only could I smell the blood, but I had also heard the steps of the person casting the shadow leaving the house, the thunk of the closing door, and the background noises that I heard everyday--bird song, the whisper of moving air, the ticking of a clock--but ignored.

The sudden chill of my realization fading, I considered how to use what I'd seen. Eric obviously wasn't happy about Melina dating Ken--at least that's who I assumed the 'pencil necked geek' was--but would he actually kill her over it? An officer of the law? That made no more sense than Ken killing her. Maybe if Melina's death had been unintentional, as Mom's had been, but I couldn't figure out how someone could be killed by accident with a hatchet unless they accidently cut their hand off or something and bled to death before they could get help. I didn't have the details about how Melina had been killed, but she was inside her house, so the accident idea seemed pretty farfetched on the face of it. There was something going on, something I wasn't aware of, some piece of information I was missing.

As I drove, I realized that I now had a place to start digging, and Officer Eric Salada, of the Gardner Police Department, was the place I was going to start. As hard as it was to believe, it seemed to me it was more likely Eric killed Melina than Ken. But how to prove it? That was the question. The people of Gardner wouldn't believe me, wouldn't believe it was one of their own, and a member of their police force to boot, unless I had incontrovertible proof.

And how am I going to get that? my mind whispered.

I needed to think and try to get my head around what I'd seen in the vision. I was having a hard time imagining a police officer killing a woman in cold blood in the same way I couldn't believe Ken did it... but I knew Ken. Because I knew he wasn't capable of doing something like that, then that meant it had to be Eric.

I was going to grab a bite to eat at the diner and then return to the Star Bright Inn. Maybe if I contemplated my vision, I'd have another one, one that'd give me some details I could use to clear Ken. When I stepped into the diner, the din of people's conversations dropped noticeably and most of the eyes watched me as I moved to an empty table. A waitress stepped up and slid a glass of water and a menu in front of me.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Pop... Sprite if you have it, please."

"Coming right up."

As I looked at the menu, the babble of voices began to increase again, but I could still feel the weight of everyone's gaze. Word had obviously gotten around that I was Ken's friend and that I didn't believe he was guilty. Thank you, Terri Salada, you old busy-body, and I wondered if I'd have a room at the Star Bright Inn to return to.

"Know whatcha' want?" the woman asked as she placed the clear, bubbling liquid in front of me.

"I'll have the pasty," I replied, handing over the menu.

"Good choice," the woman nodded. "Want it smothered?"

Having warm brown gravy ladled over the top of the meat and potato filled pastry sounded divine. "Yes please."

The waitress scribbled as she walked away. I stared at the table. Now I knew how a bug under a microscope might feel. I wanted to see Ken and tell him what I'd discovered about Eric and Melina, and to find out if he knew anything, but he'd been moved to the county jail in Eustice... and it was almost certainly past visiting hours. I'd drive to Eustice and see him in the morning to find out if he could shed some light on the situation.

I was still mulling over my vision, trying to decide how I could use this new piece of information, when my pasty was placed in front of me. It looked and smelled delicious.

"Thank you."

"Enjoy," the waitress replied.

I picked up my fork and cut into the thick pastry. Smiling with the hearty scent of beef, potatoes, and onions, I began blowing it cool. I popped the first bite into my mouth, discovering too late the potatoes were nearly as hot as the earth's core. I first fanned rapidly with my hand as I quickly moved the contents of my mouth while puffing and blowing, futilely trying to stop the burn, before I took a quick sip of my pop to cool the molten concoction searing the inside of my mouth. Sighing with relief, I furtively glanced around to see if anyone had seen my antics. Most people were ignoring me, but one man sitting on a stool at the counter was watching me keenly. I offered him a small, embarrassed smile and a polite nod before turning my attention back to my meal.

"Mind if I join you?" the man said as he slid into the booth across from me.

"I'm, uh..." I stuttered, unsure of what to do.

"A piece of advice, missy. Don't be sticking your nose in where it don't belong."

"What? Who are you?" I demanded softly.

"I'm the guy that had to pick up that poor girl's body. I'm the guy that had to sew her up enough so she could be dressed for a decent burial. I've buried a lot of people from Gardner, but never have I seen nothing like that. Don't be causing trouble for these good folks. Let the dead lie in peace."

He had to be the local mortician or something. "Even if an innocent man goes to prison?"

"The man who did that isn't an innocent man."

"The wrong man, then."

"Why are you so sure he's the wrong man? They found the murder weapon in his bedroom, in his bed, with his fingerprints all over it."

His statement made me flair with anger. "They did no such thing! The hatchet was in his bathroom and his prints were nowhere on it," I hissed, leaning over the table as I did.

The man waved his hand dismissively, as if the distinction wasn't important. "Either way, it was in his room." He began to slide out of the booth.

"What about Eric Salada?" I demanded.

He paused. "What about him?"

"He had a crush on her, right? He threatened her. Has anybody investigated him?"

"Eric Salada? The police officer?"

"Yes. Why not? He had a crush on her, right?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Has since the ninth grade. The whole town knows that. Doesn't mean he killed her, though."

"Did anybody checked to see where he was?"

"Don't need to."

"Why?"

"Because he was doing some painting at the Star for his grandmother. He showed up at the scene still covered in paint." The man slid out of the booth. "Why don't you go back to Detroit where you came from and let us grieve in peace?" he asked before he turned and walked back to his stool, sat down, and turned his back to me.

I stared at my pastry. While it wasn't conclusive proof, I had a hunch that Terri would keep a close eye on her grandson as he painted, so it was unlikely he could slip away unnoticed to kill someone. I was back to Ken being the prime suspect.

I finished eating, chewing mechanically, alternating between anger and despair. Anger because people were spreading rumors without knowing what they were talking about. The man believing I was from Detroit was a prime example. While where I lived didn't matter, people thinking Ken's fingerprints were on the murder weapon did. While what the townspeople believed wouldn't make any difference during his trial, it still pissed me off because it reinforced their belief Ken was guilty, and probably blinded them to anything that contradicted that belief. Regardless of what the citizens of Gardner believed, I knew it couldn't be Ken. It couldn't be!

Meal finished, I left twenty dollars on the table, enough to cover my meal and a decent tip, and stepped out of the diner. With a deep sigh, I returned to my truck. I was tired from my long drive yesterday and the stress of today. I flopped into my truck and stared out of the windshield. I'd only been here a day and I was already feeling defeated. I felt like the entire town was against me because they were convinced it was Ken who'd killed Melina. I hated to admit it, but my own certainty in Ken's innocence was being tested. Every time I thought I had a glimmer of hope, someone dashed it.

I started my Ford and backed out of the parking spot. What I needed was a good night's rest so I could start fresh in the morning. I puttered through town, watching the store fronts as they passed, idly looking for ideas I could apply to my own building. It had been too dark to see anything last night, and I'd been too focused on helping Ken to pay attention to anything when I'd returned to town this morning and afternoon.

Most of the shops were closed, or closing. I shook my head. Seven o'clock, and the entire town was shutting down. Summer evenings were a busy time for the cream part of Coffee w/ Cream. What did the locals do for fun around here? Watch puddles dry up and paint dry? Maybe, if they were really feeling wild, they'd go watch the stop light change. Oh, wait, that's right, they didn't have a stop light. I wasn't being fair, and I knew it, but I wasn't feeling especially charitable at the moment. It seemed like the entire town was trying to get Ken thrown in prison for the rest of his life for a crime he didn't commit.

While most of Gardner was closing down for the night, one place, on the edge of town, was hopping. The Dairy King was brightly lit with numerous cars in the parking lot. I thought about pulling in and checking out their ice cream, but decided the last thing I wanted was another run in with a local. As I passed, I saw a man carrying a pizza box to his car.

Ken and Melina were standing in a bedroom. The room was painted with the palest of yellows with dark oak trim. In the center of one wall was a large four-poster bed, complete with a canopy. I could smell the same slight mustiness of the house that I'd noticed when I'd seen the dead body.

"All I'm saying is, if you don't deal with him, he's going to keep bothering you," Ken said, holding his hands in front of him like he did when he thought he was saying something obvious. "Ignoring the problem isn't going to make it go away. When he keeps calling or showing up when you're on the other side of the state, then simply telling him to leave you alone isn't going to work."

"What would you have me do? He's a cop, Ken."

"Report him to his supervisor."

"I can't do that!"

"Why?"

"Because it could get him into trouble."

"So? Why do you care?"

"I just do, okay?"

"What is it with you? You complain that he's bothering you, but you won't do anything about it. Maybe you like the attention. Is that it?"

"Now you're being an ass!" Melina snapped, her eyes narrowing with anger. She started to step around him, but he took her shoulders and stepped in front of her to stop her leaving.

"You won't block his calls. You won't report him to his boss. You don't do anything except complain that he's bothering you. What do you expect me to think?"

"Let go of me," Melina said, her voice low and dangerous.

Ken released her shoulders and held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. If you don't want to do anything about it, none of my business, but stop complaining to me about it until you're ready to deal with it."

"Fine!" she snapped as she stepped around him, slamming the door behind her as she stomped out of the room.

He sighed, then opened the door. "Melina!"

"What?" her voice called from far away, but it had lost none of its harshness.

"I'm sorry."

I heard the clomp of feet coming up stairs. Ken stepped back as Melina entered their room again and shut the door.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know you're trying to help, but I've known Eric my whole life. I don't want to get him into trouble. I keep thinking if I tell him no often enough, he'll give up and go away."

"I know, babe. Want me to talk to him?"

She smiled. "No. That's okay."

"I wish you'd told me this was going to cause a problem. If I'd known, I wouldn't have suggested we come here."

Her face softened. "I know. I should have told you, but I thought I could handle it... but his grandmother." She rolled her eyes. "There isn't anything that goes on in this town she doesn't know about. Me showing up with a boyfriend... and him staying at my house?" She slapped her hands to her face in mock horror, her mouth opened wide.

He smiled and pulled her in close. "What would she think if she knew where I slept?"

She looked at him with a mischievous smile. "She's probably already told the entire town that we are doing the wild thing in every room of the house and behind every bush in the yard... with Greg watching."

He snickered. "Well, the first part doesn't sound so bad. The last part, though, not so much."

"How about just this room and the two of us?"

His lips touched hers in a fleeting caress. "That sounds doable."

"How about now?" she asked as she plucked at a button on his shirt.

"Greg's still here."

"Ask me if I care," she said as she loosened another button.

I didn't want to watch this. I tried to will myself out of the room as Ken took Melina into a deep kiss. I took a step back and bumped into a table, causing a vase full of porcelain roses to clink softly. Melina and Ken broke their kiss and looked directly at me.

"What was that?" Melina asked.

I froze. Could they see me? How would I explain being there?

They continued to look at me for a moment more before Ken looked at her and smiled. "Ghosts."

Melina grinned. "That must be it. Now, where were we? Oh yeah, I remem--"

I slammed on the brakes of the truck, causing it to studder to a halt. The man with the pizza box stopped and stared at me in surprise. After a moment, he shook his head and continued to his car.

I tried to get myself together and glanced around. Like with Officer Salada, the vision appeared to have been instantaneous. I was going to have to learn to stop panicking when I returned from one of my visions.

I swallowed hard while gritting my teeth against my urge to vomit. Almost immediately, my stomach began to settle, and the headache that I felt coming on began to recede. My face hot with embarrassment, I took my foot off the brake. Yeah, sure. I'd just watched my friend, my ex-boyfriend and lover, and his soon to be dead girlfriend, making out in their room, bumped into some flowers, and made a noise they'd heard. Sure. Nothing to it. Happens to everyone. Nothing to get flustered over.

I needed to talk to Aunt Liz and Vicki. My visions were getting scary now. I'd actually touched something in the past. Ho-ly crap! How had I done that?

I motored out of town, terrified something would happen or that I'd have another vision, but I arrived at the Star Bright Inn without incident. I parked my truck in front of my room and stumbled inside.

I'd just thrown myself on the bed when someone knocked at the door. I sat up with a frown. Maybe the knock was at another room, so I waited. The rap came again. No, it was definitely my door. I got up and peered through the peek before opening the door.

"Mrs. Salada?"

"What's this I hear about you accusing my grandson of murdering Melina Riis?"

"What?" I cried. "I did no such thing!"

"Did you or did you not tell Morton Evenson that Eric had threatened Melina? I don't appreciate you spreading false rumors about stuff you don't know anything about. You can stay the night, but I want you out of my motel tomorrow. Understand?"

The woman's tone made my hackles rise. Suddenly she was concerned about rumors? "Fine, but I'm not going to let this drop. Maybe I should mention to the chief of police how your grandson was harassing Melina. Maybe he's the one that killed her."

"He did no such thing! He adored that girl!"

"He pulled her over one night. She told him to leave her alone and he talked about how they belonged together and he wasn't going to let a pencil neck geeky nerd take her away from him. If you don't believe me, why don't you ask him yourself?"

Terri stared at me for a long moment. "How do you know this?"

How indeed? "She told Ken," I finally lied. I couldn't very well tell the truth about how I knew. "Can you account for his whereabouts the entire time he was here painting? It's what, fifteen minutes from here to the Riis home? Is it at least possible he was gone for thirty minutes without you noticing?"

Terri stared at me for another long moment. "I want you out of here first thing in the morning," she snapped before turning and stomping away.

I watched her storm away and smiled grimly. I was treading on thin ice, but it felt good to put the woman in her place. "Think on that, you old biddy," I muttered as I shut the door.

I didn't know what I was going to do. Without a place to stay, I didn't know how I was going to help Ken. I wanted to go home, wanted to fall asleep in Hunter's arms, but I couldn't leave. Not yet. First thing in the morning, I'd drive to Eustice and see Ken and find another room. Getting out of Gardner was probably for the best. I was pretty sure I'd already ticked off just about everybody in town.

Nine o'clock the next morning, I stepped into the office of the Star Bright Inn and tossed the room key on the counter. Terri stared at me with a sour face.

"Did you ask him?" I asked with a pleasant smile. I hoped she had because I wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Yes."

"And?"

"He said he didn't."

"Uh-huh," I grunted with a grin. Either Terri was lying, or Eric was.

"Just go, and don't come back."

"See you around," I said as I stepped out of the office.

The moment I was outside my smile disappeared. I felt sick. I didn't sleep well last night. When Ken had called, begging for help, I'd gotten cocky and thought I could save him, but now? Now I wasn't sure, especially if the entire town arrayed itself against me. Maybe I should drop it, leave it to the professionals, and return home to my little coffee and ice cream shop. Even Ken's parents wanted me to leave it alone. The thing was, Ken wanted my help, and it was Ken's life that was on the line.

I sat down in my truck and started the engine. I was going to need gas before I left for Eustis. I drove into Gardner and pulled to a stop at the only gas station in town. I'd just swiped my card when a new, pristine white, Chevy pickup pulled to a stop on the opposite side of the pump. When I glanced up, I saw Greg Riis step out of the cab.

"Mr. Riis! If I could have a minute of your time! Please!"

He glared at me. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Please, I just want to talk to you about Melina."

"No. I have nothing to say to you. You come into town, stir up trouble, and accused the police of killing my sister, of all things."

"I did not!"

"Didn't you tell Mrs. Salada that Eric had threatened Melina?"