Random Acts of Murder: A Holly Anna Paladin Mystery, Book 1 (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries) (4 page)

Chase leaned back in his chair, picking up on the conversation he’d probably been having with my mom before I came. “And in other news . . . it looks like I’m being promoted to detective.”

“You’ll make a
great detective,” my mom crowed, pride beaming from her face.

I sure did wish she’d look at me like that. My dad had been the only one who’d understood me, and now he was gone.

“Didn’t you just move here and start on the force?” I asked, hating to be the voice of reason here.

He
grinned. Man, he
did
look like Thor. It was unfortunate—for my heart, anyway. At least he didn’t have the killer Australian accent. “I did, but I accepted the job understanding that I’d be moved up to detective. They wanted me to start with patrol, so I could become more accustomed to the area first.”

My mom set the roast beef on the table. “Now we really have a reason to celebrate.”

I helped her with the rest of the food, trying desperately to think of an excuse to get out of this. Nothing acceptable came to mind. Finally, we all sat around the table, prayed, and dished out the food.

“So Chase, h
ave you been assigned your first case yet?” My mom adjusted a piece of parsley atop the corn.

Yes, she even garnished on nonspecial occasions.

Chase nodded. “I have. You’ll never believe me if I tell you what it’s about.”

“Tell, tell.” My mom
raised her eyebrows.

I
took a long sip of my sweet tea in an effort to bite my tongue. How did Chase always manage to cast a spell on my mom . . . and everyone else, for that matter?

“Someone
cleaned this lady’s house before killing her cousin.”

I coughed, nearly spitting my tea out all over the
table.

“Holly, are you okay?” My mom paused for long enough to eye me
with disapproval.

I nodded. “I’m fine. I . . .
I just thought maybe I was in the middle of a sitcom or something. Someone cleaning the house before a murder. What a calling card.”

Chase
nodded, taking a hearty serving of mashed potatoes. “Crazy, isn’t it? Kind of a lame case, but I’m the new guy, so I’m stuck with it, I guess.”

“I don’t know.
At least the killer has manners. Holly, you remember when your father was in the hospital, those ladies from church came over and cleaned our house and brought us food for a week?”

Boy, did I ever remember.
They were the ones who’d inspired me to break into Katrina’s. I bet they’d never anticipated I’d pay it forward as I had, though. I nodded.

“I’ll never forget their kindness
,” my mom continued. “Sometimes a clean house and warm food is all you need to brighten your day. Too bad whoever did this couldn’t have stopped there.”

“It’s a strange case. But we’re trying to extract some evidence from the cleaning supplies now. The results should be back in a couple of days
, and we hope to close in on this guy.”

CHAPTER 6

I dropped my fork, and it clattered on the table
.

“Holly? What has gotten into you?”
my mom reprimanded.

I shook my head. “Just feeling a little clumsy today. I mean, the thought of a killer being
that calm—calm enough to clean your home before murdering someone. It’s disturbing. Are you sure the cleaning isn’t unrelated to the crime?”

“You think someone else broke in and cleaned on the night there just happened to be a murder there?
” Chase chuckled, a slab of roast beef poised to be eaten on his fork. “What kind of crazy coincidence would that be?”

I let out a feeble laugh.
“Good point. That would just be crazy. Insane. Totally unbelievable.”

I heard myself rambling,
saw the strange look Chase sent my way, and stopped myself.

“
Any good leads?” I asked instead. I pushed my food away, my appetite suddenly gone.

I tried to control the tremble that threatened to claim my entire body
as I waited for his response. He had to finish chewing his dinner first, and he seemed to be savoring every bite.

“I can tell you what we’ve released to the press.
” He put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Right now our best lead, other than the cleaning supplies, is an old van that was sitting outside. One of the neighbors saw it. An old blue Toyota, probably an early 2000s model.”

“Sounds like you
r friend Jamie’s,” my mom added, totally clueless.

“Yeah, it was Jamie’s.
She’s a reporter by day, and serial cleaner by night,” I muttered.

Everyone laughed, which should have helped my nausea. It didn’t.
This was awful.

How much time did I have until I was discovered? Maybe crossing off things on my bucket list
should be kicked into hyperdrive.

“Enough of this talk about murder
,” Chase said. “What’s new with you, Holly?”

Both
my mom and Chase turned toward me, waiting for my response.

Oh
, nothing. Just terminally ill. Possibly going to be framed for murder. On the verge of disgracing everyone in my life.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Come now, there’s got to be something new,” Chase continued to prod.

“My life is pretty boring. I like it that way. Except for the skunkball.”

Chase’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He opened his mouth as if to ask, when my mom rushed in. Thank goodness.

“If
you’re ever hiring more detectives, maybe you should consider Holly. She helped her friend solve that cold case involving the Mercer family.” My mom raised her thin eyebrows and grinned, casting me a knowing glance.

Chase tilted his head. My mom just had to bring that up. It was one of her most recent favorite stories to tell.

“The Mercer family, huh? I remember that case quite well. It wrapped up right about the time I came into town. Tell me more.”

At least this beat talking about the other case I was currently involved with. I chased a piece of corn around my plate, trying to look hungry.
“My friend, who was hired as a PI, actually solved it. I just helped her.” More like, I just drove her around town while she was here. It had actually been fun, something off my bucket list: pretend to be Nancy Drew and solve a mystery. Done. I didn’t need any more investigations in my life.

“That’s amazing, Holly.”
Chase nodded, something close to admiration in his eyes.

“Isn’t it?”
My words didn’t sound quite sincere.

Chase eyeballed me, a twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m not so sure she’d make it through the police academy with the hair and nails, though.”

I touched my curly locks. “No prissy police officers allowed? No problem
, because I’m not interested.”

“Oh
, stop, Holly. She’s being so humble.” My mother let out a brittle laugh. “She’s doing quite well for herself in social work. She’s dating a nice guy—”

“Brian and I are not dating, Mom.”

My mom laughed. “She’s in denial. We all know they’re dating.”

I stabbed a piece of roast beef
with no intention of eating it. “No, really, Mom. We’re not dating.”

“Okay.
You’re not dating.” She said it unconvincingly—and unconvincingly on purpose. “She’s also been volunteering down at the youth center once a week.”

Chase smiled. “Sounds like a full, happy life.”

I raised my tea glass. “Full and happy.”

Chase’s phone beeped.
He glanced down at it, saw the number, and frowned. “Excuse me a minute.”

When he stepped back a few minutes later,
disquiet stained his features. “I think we have a lead on that minivan. I’ve gotta run.”

“You’ll come back again sometime, won’t you?”
my mom called.

“Anytime, Mrs. Paladin. Anytime.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek before waving to me. “Good to see you, Holly.”

I pushed my plate away as I forced my smile. “You, too.”

But all I was thinking was: I was in a heap of trouble.

Jamie, too.

***

Five minutes later—a respectable amount of time, I thought—I excused myself from the dinner table, feigning a headache and hurrying to my room. My mom thankfully didn’t ask any questions.

As soon as I was in my room with the door locked, I called Jamie. “Where are you?”

“I’m doing some research at the library. Why?”

“The police have a lead on the van at the scen
e last night,” I whispered.

“What do you mean?”
Her voice rose in pitch.

I did a quick rundown of dinner.

“You think the police are coming here?” A touch of fear reached her voice.

“I don’t know, Jamie. I have no idea. I’m going to ruin your life. I can’t let that happen.”
I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling as tears pressed at my eyes.

“You’
re not going to ruin my life. It’s like I said—I went along with your plan willingly.”

At that, I had a moment of sudden clarity and sat back up.
“I’m going to go tell the police what happened, Jamie. That’s all there is to it. None of this was ever my intention.”

Jamie softened her voice.
“I know I was all encouraging you to talk to the police, Holly. Now I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”
Because she might be implicated?

“This is a murder investigation
, Holly. You were there. No one’s going to believe you’re innocent.”

“I don’t even own a gun.”
My voice squeaked higher than I’d like to admit.

“It was Katrina’s gun that was used at the scene.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m a reporter. I have my ways.”

“So they’ll think I took Katrina’s gun and shot the man.” I squeezed my eyes shut again.

“They could even believe your original story. Maybe you went there to do a random act of kindness. But what if
you ran into the cousin, didn’t recognize him—thought he was a threat, for that matter—and you grabbed Katrina’s gun and shot him.”

“You’ve got this all worked out, don’t you
?” I felt like I might pass out and began fanning my face.

“I just want you to think this through.”

Another thought hit me with the force of a Mack truck. “You don’t think I did it . . . do you?” Her theory seemed pretty well thought out.

“No, of course not. I know you’re innocent. I still remember you crying when
we found that dead goose at the park that time. No way could you kill someone.”

“No way am I going to let you take the fall, either.”

I made up my mind. I was going to the police station. I had to own up to my part in all of this before I buried myself—or anyone else—any deeper.

CHAPTER 7

I stood at the reception area of the police
station. I’d asked to talk to a detective, and the officer behind the desk had told me just one minute.

I began pacing, s
moothing the folds of my dress. At least I’d look cute in my arrest photos.

A million thoughts rushed through my mind, and none of
them were good. Well, the only good one was that I was doing the right thing, no matter how much the consequences would stink.

I’d probably
be locked in jail, I realized. Maybe I should have told my family first? It was too late for that.

I shuddered to think about the process of being booked. As a social worker, I’d heard some horror stories.

I imagined spending my final days not with my family but with a cellmate named Big Annie who had gold teeth and a mean case of acid reflux.

When news spread, I was going to ruin my family’s lives.

My brother had once told me that my optimism would be the death of me. He was right.

Chase burst through
the door, a phone to his ear. He paused when he saw me and raised a finger, indicating I should wait.

“I see,” Chase muttered
into the phone. “I’ll head out there now. Thanks for the update.”

He hung up and looked at me
. His eyes were bright with curiosity. “Holly. What brings you here?”

I wiped my sweaty hands on my lavender dress. “
I was going to talk to someone about—”

“Dexter, you hear about that van?”
Another officer burst through the door, not slowing down.

“Justin just gave me the update. A convicted drug dealer sounds like a good lead to me.”

Chase inched toward the exit, casting an apologetic glance my way. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time. Is there anything I can do for you, Holly?”

My thoughts raced
at such a dizzying pace that I nearly lost my balance. “Convicted drug dealer?”

He shrugged.
“The van’s owner. We think we have enough to bring him in for questioning.”

M
y heart stuttered and time seemed to freeze.

They
weren’t going to arrest Jamie? Me?

Chase pointed toward the door. “I really do need to
get going.”

“I just wa
nted to . . .” To what? “You know what? I think I was overthinking something. I’m good.”

Chase nodded and pointed toward the door. “Al
l right, then. I’ve got to run.”

***

An annoying chirp pulled me from a restless sleep the next morning. I popped one eye open and scowled at my cell phone. Who was calling at . . . I checked my alarm clock . . . 5:30 a.m.? Could there have been an emergency at work?

I checked the ID and saw that it was Jamie. My friend never called me this early. I put the phone to my ear, making sure that my voice sounded especially pathetic so my friend could know she woke me.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Turn on the news.”

I sat up a little straighter when I heard the serious tone of her voice. “What?”

“No time for questions, just turn on the news.”

I shrugged my sleep off, grabbed the remote from beside my bed, and flipped on the TV that sat on my dresser. The early morning news blared across the screen, and I came in halfway through the story.

“. . . the Good Deeds Killer has struck again. Another man was found dead inside a home
in Price Hill, three gunshot wounds to the chest. At both this scene and an earlier one, a mop and bucket were found and part of the house had been cleaned. The victim’s name hasn’t been released yet, pending notification of next of kin. The police are looking for any information on this crime. If you know anything, call . . .”

“Oh. My. Goodness,” I whispered. So many thoughts raced through my mind that I could hardly make sense of any of them.

I listened as the news anchor offered some information on the first victim. His name was Dewayne Harding, he was twenty years old, and he’d grown up in the area. Friends said he was bright and always up for a good time, and that he wouldn’t hurt a flea.

I blanched when I saw his face. Sure enough, he was the same man I’d seen on Katrina’s bathroom floor.

“What’s going on, girl? This is crazy.”

“
Crazy
is an understatement . . . she said feeling dumbfounded.” I stared at the TV, something close to shock numbing my body and mind.

I was still sleeping, and this was a nightmare. That had to be it. No way was this actually happening.

I’d just settled on that thought when Jamie said, “Someone is copying what happened at the last murder. They know about the fact that you came and cleaned, and they want to keep that as a pattern.”

My heart thudded in my chest.
“Why would someone do that?”

“To frame you?”

“Why would someone do
that
?”

“Why would someone want to frame you?
Girlfriend, do I really need to answer that? To get the attention off of themselves, of course.”

The familiar feeling of nausea gurgled in my stomach. What had I done? The even bigger question—how
was I going to fix it?

I had no idea. But just when I
thought things couldn’t get worse, they had. Big-time.

The killer knew about me.
And as soon as the evidence was processed at the lab, there was a good chance my fingerprints or DNA would be found.

“Are you still there?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” I wished I weren’t, though. I really wished I weren’t.