Secrets in a Still Life by Kari Ganske (mobi ebook reader .txt) 📕

"So how did her locket end up down here?" Colleen asked, voicing my thoughts from earlier.

"I wondered the same thing. Did you notice the broken chain?" Colleen nodded. I continued, "What if Missy and her murderer argued down here by the water. Their fight turned physical, and the murderer tore off the locket in the struggle."

"Yeah. He killed her here and then dragged her into the woods to hide her body," Colleen added. "Or maybe she tried to run, and the killer caught her up there on the path."

"Let's look for drag marks," I suggested. I had no idea if they would still be here even if they once were. It had been a week since the murder. How long did it take for grass to bounce back?

We looked around a little, then admitted defeat.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," Colleen said.

"The killer could have used the path instead. Then there would be no drag marks." Some detectives we were.

I looked at the pictures I'd taken of the locket, on the back of my camera. I zoomed in on one of the locket’s back, the way we'd first found it laying in the dirt.

"Look," I said, enlarging the area beside the locket. "What does that look like to you?"

"Drops of blood," Colleen said. "And there, too, on the corner of the locket."

"This could mean that she was killed by the reservoir and then moved up the path," I said. "What if the killer tried dragging Missy, but she was too heavy. It was taking too long, so they left her in the brush on the side of the path."

"That would pretty much rule out Mike," Colleen pointed out. "He's strong enough to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out."

I pursed my lips. "Dangit. You're right. What's another theory that makes him guilty?" I snapped my fingers. "Maybe someone came down the path, and he dropped her instead of having to answer questions."

"Alex. These are all theories. We probably should report the locket to the police," Colleen conceded finally.

I pouted for a moment, then huffed out a breath. "Fine. But I'm calling Detective Spaulding. Not Chief Duncan."

Chapter 19

I made the call as Colleen drove us back to the loft. I wanted to ask Colleen to take us back to the reservoir so I could put the locket back where we'd found it. We could just tell Detective Spaulding we came across it. Or call it in as an anonymous tip. Too late now. Better to be honest up front. How else would we be able to explain Colleen’s fingerprints on it?

"He's going to meet us at the loft in half an hour. He promised not to bring Chief Duncan," I told Colleen.

"Good. I wonder what your mother got for lunch," Colleen responded.

"How can you be thinking about food? We just found a dead woman's locket," I admonished. Then my stomach growled, betraying me. Colleen laughed.

Nana K's Mercedes was parked next to my parents' car in the orchard parking lot, which didn't surprise me at all. I was more surprised it took Nana K this long to get here.

We stepped inside the loft to the noise and smells of family. My mother and grandmother laughed and talked as they opened containers and spread out food on the kitchen counter buffet style. I smelled fried chicken and coleslaw with an undercurrent of fresh coffee. My father sat on the couch holding a paper and a mug.

Wait. I had a couch?

"Where did that couch come from?" I asked by way of greeting.

"There you two are. We were ready to send out a search party. Either that or eat all this chicken ourselves," Mom said brightly, giving me and Colleen a hug.

"The couch?" I asked again.

"I've had that old thing sitting in storage for years," Nana K explained. "It's a bit beat up, but better than having company sit on the floor."

"That old thing" as Nana K described it was anything but. An ornate wooden curvature adorned the back of the midsized couch. The cushions were upholstered with a deep-purple, almost fuzzy fabric. Was that velvet? I didn't think so, but I wouldn't put it past my grandmother. Right now it sat facing the kitchen area. Ideal for this situation so we could all converse. But I could easily turn it around to face the fireplace. It would be a good visual buffer to separate the space, especially once I found a table and chairs for dining.

"Thanks, Nana," I said, embracing my grandmother and placing a kiss on the top of her pink and purple hair. I wasn't tall by any means, five foot three and a half—the half was important—but I felt like a giant compared to Nana K, who stood no more than five feet tall if she stretched her neck out. Part of our coming of age in my family was growing taller than Nana K. Out of all of my cousins, I took the longest. My cousin Greg passed Nana K at the budding age of eight. He held the record. I hadn't reached Nana's height until middle school. And even then, my parents weren't sure if I'd actually surpass the matriarch. Luckily, due to a three-inch growth spurt in the ninth grade, I sprouted passed Nana K for good. Then added another inch and half for good measure.

"Come get lunch," Mom said. "We stopped by Solomon's for chicken and the market for dessert."

My mouth watered. Colleen said, "Don't have to ask me twice to eat Solomon's." She practically ran for the counter.

Solomon's was the local butcher and game processor. People came from all over Maryland for their fresh-cut bacon, fried chicken, and locally sourced venison. The attached restaurant overflowed with