Random Acts of Murder: A Holly Anna Paladin Mystery, Book 1 (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries) (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

B
y the time I showered and got downstairs, my brother and sister were there. They came over once a month to have breakfast with Mom. I usually fixed my “famous” coffee cake, and my mom made freshly ground coffee. We’d all catch up for a few minutes before heading in different directions. It was a nice little ritual that ensured we all kept up with each other.

My sister and brother were older by quite a bit: Alex by ten years and my brother by eight. Alex was an assistant district attorney for the city and was getting married in a
couple of months. My brother Ralph had been married, but his wife had died in a car accident only six months after they said, “I do.”

That had happened twelve years ago when Ralphie was
twenty-four, and I was only sixteen. It all seemed surreal. Ralph said he was never going to get married again and instead threw everything into his career. He’d been a high school principal before running for the school board. That had lasted five years, just enough time to give him a real hunger for politics.

“Did you hear?”
my sister asked, downing a sip of coffee.

My sister was what most people called “The Total Package.” She was blonde, thin, smart, savvy, confident, and successful. Pretty much, she was perfect. She’d been
homecoming queen, been listed on more “Who’s Who” lists than I could count, had graduated from Harvard, and owned a gorgeous house in the suburbs.

I lowered myself into a chair. I’d normally help my mom serve the food, but today my brain spun at a dizzying pace. I just needed to sit for a moment.

“Hear what?” Ralph grabbed a banana from the center of the table.

My brother was tall
and thin and wore plastic-framed glasses. He had a love for sweater-vests and was kind of nerdy cute, I supposed. I mean, he wasn’t cute to me, of course.

“About that Good Deeds Killer they’re talking about on the news?” Alex continued. “There are sick people in this world. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You see the worst of them,” my mom added, thrusting some coffee into my hands.

I hoped my gaze said the appropriate amount of “thank you.”

“You’re right.” Alex slid a bite of cake into her mouth, leaving not as much as a crumb on her perfectly plum lipstick. “I do see the worst offenders. So the fact that I even think this killer is messed up should tell you a lot.”

“This guy has a calling card—cl
eaning supplies. I really don’t get that. Is he cleaning up the crime scenes before the police get there?” Ralph asked.

Alex shook her head. “From what I heard, no.
The crime was executed in a different part of the house. It’s like the killer wants to be nice to make up for their evil.
Sorry about killing your loved one. Let me clean part of your house so you can more easily accept visitors who come to offer their condolences in the aftermath of what I’ve done
.”

“This might be the time to think about
getting an alarm system.” My mom sat at the table.

Ralph prayed for th
e food, and then we all dug in. The time frame we had was limited, so everyone ate fast and talked even faster.

“The house where
the first crime took place was actually the home of someone on my caseload,” I offered. It would seem weird if they found out later and I hadn’t shared.

Everyone in my family seemed both impressed and horrified.

I still felt like I was living in an alternate reality. I’d dug a hole for myself and fallen in, and now I had no idea how to get out without pulling other people in with me.

“Let’s talk about something happy,” Alex suggested.

“I have good news,” Ralph announced. “I’m up by six percentage points. If no skeletons from my past come out, I think I’m going to be able to take this election.”

My hole got deeper.

My mom laughed. “Skeletons? In your closet? I don’t see that happening. You have a squeaky-clean past.”

“It’s amazing the things the media can dig up.”
Ralph frowned.

More of the imaginary dirt in my hole was thrown to the surface. I felt claustrophobic even thinking about it.

The media liked to talk about Melinda—Ralph’s wife. The whole story of her death had been a gut-wrenching human-interest story that made people instantly like my brother Ralph.

“I thought I’d also add that
Rex Harrison is a scumbag,” Ralph said. “He’s going to dig up whatever dirt he can. I have no doubt about that. He’ll make up dirt if he has to.”

“
Dirty is as dirty does,” Alex agreed. “I don’t care if everyone else in the city thinks it’s great that he used to be a cop, a public servant. Some people are cops to serve people; others because they want power. I know what category I’d put Rex into.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Ralph said. “I heard his campaign is in serious financial trouble. At least, that’s what Brian said a couple of weeks ago.”

“All right, enough about this. Holly, name one new thing with you,” my mom encouraged.

I shook my head
, running a napkin over my lips. “Nothing new here. Same old, same old.”

“Did you all hear that Chase Dexter is back in town?” My mom’s eyes sparkled
as she glanced at Alex and Ralph.

“Good old Chase,” Ralph said. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

“I did hear that he was working for the police department, on the fast track to becoming a detective,” Alex said. “He looks like one of those made-for-TV detectives, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t let William hear you say that,” my mom laughed.

William was Alex’s fiancé. He was a general surgeon at a nearby hospital. My sister, also known as “Alex the Great,” lived what I called a charmed life.

“He’s always reminded me of that guy who plays Thor,” Ralph added.

Why did everyone always say that? Chase wasn’t
that
handsome. I mentally snorted.

That’s when I realized everyone was staring at me.

Maybe that snort hadn’t been mental.

“You don’t think he’s handsome?” Alex grinned, a sparkle in her eyes.

I shrugged. “I think he’s arrogant.”

“Don’t tell Brian that Holly has a crush on Chase Dexter. He’ll be
mopey for weeks,” Ralph said.

“First of all, I don’t have a crush on Chase. Second of all, Brian and I are just friends. There’s nothing to be
mopey over. Third of all—”

“Keep telling yourself that.
All of it. All of your dozens of reasons. We all know the truth.” Ralph stood, chugging another sip of coffee. “Okay, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting with Brian.” He threw me a smile.

“We’re just friends,” I repeated
in a singsong tone that I often used to hide my annoyance.

“Keep telling yourself that. You’re going with him to the fund
-raising gala, right?” Ralph slipped his coat on.

I nodded. I’d forgotten about that. Brian had asked me a few weeks ago. We both needed a date, so I’d said yes. Going together just made sense
, since Brian had to be there anyway. He was Ralph’s campaign manager.

My fami
ly liked to give me a hard time for a multitude of reasons. But one thing they really liked to tease me about was the fact that I’d had this crazy idea in high school to save my first kiss for the man I married. And that didn’t mean the man I was engaged to, even. It meant that on my wedding, after I said, “I do,” I’d kiss the man I’d spend the rest of my life with. So, it was true that I’d never been kissed.

I’d been engaged once
, but my fiancé had broken it off. So, one of the things on my bucket list was to fall in love. To experience my first kiss.

I was up in the air about it all, truth be told.
I’d realized when I’d almost gotten married that having not kissed my fiancé led my thoughts to dwelling more on my kiss than I did on my future marriage. While I could still see good aspects of dating that way, I couldn’t say it was definitely for me. It did seem like a shame to die without ever experiencing my first kiss.

“That’s great
that you’re going together.” Ralph smoothed the front of his argyle sweater. “Someone from the newspaper asked if we could get a family photo for a feature they’re running. You guys all good with that?”

We all nodded.

Alex stood, downing one last bite of coffee cake. “I’ve got to go prep for a court date. I’ll see everyone at the gala.”

“I’ve got a board meeting so we can raise money for that new children’s hospital,” my mom added.

I felt like I needed to contribute something. “I’ve got mounds of paperwork that I need to do, even though I really need to do home visits.”

Everyone—except me—rushed out the door. I sat there a moment, dumbfounded.

If I admitted the fact that I was at the first crime scene, I might single-handedly ruin Ralph’s campaign. Maybe I’d come forward
after
the election. If the police didn’t catch onto me by then, I’d go to them myself. That was all there was to it.

I collected the plates, put them in the sink, and then got to work.

It was time to face my boss, Doris Blankenship, a.k.a. the Devil.

As if my life couldn’t get worse.

**
*

I’d finished up my paperwork—piles of bureaucracy, if you asked me—in the morning, and right now I sat on the couch of Edna Edmond’s house. I’d been doing home visits with her for the past six months. She had custody of her four grandchildren, and she’d have liked to have permanent guardianship.

“Are you okay,
child? You seem distracted today.” The grandmotherly lady had puffy wrinkles under her eyes and painfully unnatural red hair. She was thin, spoke in a gravelly voice, and always had cookies around.

I jerked my head toward her. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Edna. I guess I just had a long day yesterday.”

“You make sure you get enough rest now, you hear me? Enough sleep is my secret to a long life. That’s what I always say.”

I smiled. If she only knew my situation. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You stay safe out there, too. This world is getting crazy.” She shook her head back and forth in long, heavy swings.

I stiffened. “I guess you heard about the murder a couple of streets over.”

“Murders aren’t unusual in this area. I know that—I’ve been around the block a couple of times. But this guy just sounds creepy. He cleaned that woman’s house before shooting her cousin.” Her voice rose along with her thin eyebrows.

I swallowed hard. “I know. That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“You were her social worker, weren’t you?”

I licked my lips. “I can’t discuss that.”

“I know you are.” She waved a hand in the air and grunted. “I’ve talked to Katrina before. One of her boys is in school with one of my granddaughters. We both think you’re the bee’s knees. We have the best social worker in the area. Some of the people who work for your agency—you can tell they don’t really care. You’re the real deal, though.”

Great, another person I’
d disappoint if I were found out. I croaked out a “Thank you.”

“I’ve also heard that Frank Jenkins has been talking trash about you all over town.”

I shifted in surprise. There was a name I hadn’t heard in a while.

Frank Jenkins was a man I’d always suspected of hitting his children. He had a nasty temper
and a drinking problem, and was oblivious to it all. His kids had been taken away from him and placed in a foster home where they were now thriving. He desperately wanted them back.

H
e’d turned all of his rage toward me. He’d made threats, called me names, told me I’d get my payback.

As
scary as it sounded, the whole scenario had slipped my mind.

Could he be the one behind the bullets that had flown my way while I stood on the porch
with Chase?

I called in sick from work for the rest of the day. Partially because I was making myself mentally sick with anxiety. The other part was the disease ravaging my body.

Really, the best medicine I could get right now was talking to Jamie. I just hoped she was available.

**
*

“You’re going to have a mental breakdown if you don’t do something,” Jamie said.

I stared at my friend as she sat on the couch across from me at my mom’s place. “If I go down, my family’s going down with me. Look, I’ve been thinking about it
, and telling the police that I was there won’t help anyone. I have no idea who the killer is. I saw nothing. I know nothing.”

“But the bucket and mop . . .”

“Originally, I worried that by me leaving it there, I’d be wasting the police’s time. That they’d be investigating something that wasn’t integral. But now that the killer left his own mop and bucket, that’s not really the case.”