A Palette for Murder Page 6

  Rory was in the middle of saying “Let us know if you need anything” when the front door closed.

  “That was a little abrupt, wasn’t it?” Liz said as they headed back to the car.

  “She’s probably one of those people who wants to be alone when she’s sick.” Rory turned the key in the ignition and drove to Big Wave Steak and Seafood in downtown Vista Beach, where they settled down at the bar to wait for their dates to arrive.

  Rory took a sip of her ginger ale. “Doug’s coming, right? Which one is he?”

  “The doctor who works at that clinic in Hawthorne. You met him once when he dropped me off at your place.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “You don’t remember him, do you?”

  “You have so many boyfriends. How am I supposed to keep track?”

  “At least I’m getting myself out there. Yours is a doctor too.”

  Rory glanced nervously at the time on her cell phone. “Where are they?”

  “That’s them now.”

  Liz pointed her martini glass toward the doorway, where two men stood, one a foot taller than the other. The taller one had a backpack slung over his shoulder with a red rabbit’s foot hanging from a zipper pull. She waved them over.

  The taller one held out his hand to Rory. “Hi, I’m Tripp. Tripp Keating. I believe you’re my date for the evening.”

  Rory looked into eyes that twinkled when he smiled, the bluest ones she’d ever seen. She took his hand, holding it a moment longer than necessary, and stammered out her name.

  After all the introductions had been made, the hostess led them to their table. Rory took a seat between Liz and Tripp. They made small talk as the waiter distributed the menus and filled their water glasses.

  When a waiter delivered a steak knife to a neighboring table, Rory’s mind flashed back to the knife sticking out of Willow’s chest. She bent her head to study her menu. “Definitely not the steak,” she murmured to herself.

  Tripp gently touched her arm and leaned toward her. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Rory placed her menu on the table. “I’m fine. I think I’ll have the Caesar salad.” She gave him her brightest smile. “Liz tells me you moved to town recently. Where were you before?”

  “Africa. I do some work with Doctors Without Borders. I’ve been to Central America, Africa, all kinds of places. Wherever I’m needed, really. This is one of the rare occasions I’m back in the U.S. I hope to make it more permanent this time.”

  “That sounds interesting. What’s your specialty?”

  “I’m a trauma surgeon, but right now I’m working at a local clinic with Doug.” He nodded across the table at Liz’s date. “There’s a real need for good low-cost medical care in a lot of places, even here in the States.”

  “Do you have family nearby?”

  “No, but I grew up in a place similar to this. Surfing’s a hobby of mine so I decided this would be a good area to hang out for a while. A friend introduced me to Reverend Paulson at Good Samaritan church. He’s letting me stay there in exchange for doing odd jobs.”

  “Good Samaritan? My parents and I go there. I don’t remember seeing you.”

  “I’ve only been in town a few weeks. I usually hang out towards the back during the service, but Reverend Paulson convinced me to join the choir, so I’ll be front and center tomorrow morning. I’ll be sure to look for you. But enough about me. Tell me about your job.”

  Rory was telling him about her freelance software business when the waiter came to take their orders. During dinner, Tripp regaled them with stories of his travels while Doug talked about the clinic where they both worked. “Did you hear about that murder on Seagull Lane?” Doug speared a piece of his blood-red steak. “That’s your street, isn’t it?” he said to Rory. “Were you home?”

  Rory averted her gaze as he popped the piece of meat into his mouth. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Why not? Wait, did you find the body? What is that, your third?”

  “Doug!” Liz said.

  “What? Everyone in town knows she has a habit of finding bodies. It’s been in the paper.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not proper dinner table conversation.”

  A faint cock-a-doodle-doo sounded from Rory’s clutch, saving her from having to say anything else. She checked the display on her cell phone. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She headed outside to answer the call. When she returned to the table five minutes later, a chastised Doug apologized.

  “Bad news?” Liz asked.

  “They found Kit. He’s back in the hospital.”

  “A friend of yours?” Tripp asked.

  Rory explained how they’d found the homeless man on the beach.

  “I think I’ve met him at the church,” Tripp said. “He comes and gets lunch there on Fridays, right?”

  “That’s right.” Rory put her napkin on the table and stood up. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to go to the hospital to check on him. I had a good time though.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?” Tripp asked, concern in his voice. “I can interpret doctor-speak for you. And they might tell me more than they would you.”

  “That would be nice,” Rory said.

  “You’ll have to drive though. I don’t have a car.”

  “How do you get around?” Liz asked.

  “Public transportation, mostly, and I have a bicycle.”

  “Go,” Liz said. “We’ll take care of the check. I’ll get a ride home from Doug.”

  Rory smiled her thanks, then she and Tripp headed to the hospital. Along the way, they talked about Kit.

  “Do you know anything about his background?” Rory said. “He never wants to talk about his past with me.”

  Tripp leaned back in his seat and stared out the window. “I’ve only had a few conversations with him. All he wants to talk about are books. Can’t get enough of them. I tried to find out more, believe me, but I haven’t been here that long. It takes time to build up trust. Maybe someone else knows him better.”

  They lapsed into silence that lasted until they reached their destination.

  Before long, they were standing by Kit’s hospital room, waiting for the doctor to finish his examination. Rory peered into the room. A steady beep came from a monitor that displayed Kit’s vital signs while an IV pumped what she assumed was an antibiotic into his unconscious body. From where she stood, she couldn’t tell if the numbers on the screen were good or bad. She was just happy not to hear the shrill sound of an alarm.

  When the doctor came out of the room, he greeted Tripp like an old friend. They stood off to one side and discussed Kit’s condition while Rory ventured inside the room and stood by the bed. She closed her hand around his and gently called his name so he would know someone was there. No response other than a slight fluttering of his eyelids. She said his name again. This time his eyes opened fully for a moment. He smiled and seemed to recognize her before he closed them again.

  Rory squeezed Kit’s hand and stepped out into the hallway where Tripp now stood by himself.

  “It’s not good,” he said. “Let’s talk over here.” He led her to a row of chairs in the hallway a few doors down. As soon as they were seated, he got straight to the point. “I won’t sugarcoat it. He’s picked up a nasty infection. Between that and the blow to his head, it’s not looking good.”

  “I thought the head injury wasn’t a problem.”

  “Head injuries are tricky. Sometimes a problem shows up later. That’s why we like to monitor patients for a while.”

  “They can help him, can’t they?”

  “They’re doing everything they can.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “He’s getting the best care possible. Why don’t I give you my number in case you have any more quest
ions.”

  After exchanging phone numbers, they walked out the front door of the hospital. Rory silently vowed to find Kit’s family. She couldn’t heal him, but she could make sure he was surrounded by loved ones if the worst happened.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Rory slipped into the pew next to her parents moments before the church service was about to begin. Tripp waved at her before taking his place with the rest of the choir at the front of the sanctuary. She smiled shyly and waved back.

  Swan Anderson leaned toward her, his gaze focused on Tripp. “Should I have a talk with him, man to man?”

  “Dad!” she said in a hushed voice.

  Arika gave her husband an affectionate smile and gently swatted him on the arm with her program. “Swan, stop torturing your daughter. The service is about to start.”

  “Just trying to help,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

  The minister walked to the front, and the congregation rose for the opening hymn.

  Rory smiled up at her father who, at six foot three, was three inches taller than she was. She sang along with the choir, occasionally casting a glance at Tripp, wondering if he’d enjoyed their date as much as she had. She stood oblivious to the world around her, unaware the hymn had ended until her father gently tugged on her arm to remind her it was time to return to her seat.

  She blushed and sat down, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming in church. From then on, she focused her attention on the service, bowing her head with the rest of the congregation when Reverend Paulson prayed for the sick, mentioning Kit by name. As they all stood for the next hymn, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head slightly in time to see Dawn slip into a pew across the aisle. The woman’s face was pale, but her walk was steady and she seemed to have recovered from her illness.

  After the service was over, Rory wended her way through the crowd gathered on the patio near the church entrance looking for Dawn, but she was nowhere in sight. In the parking lot, Rory spotted her standing next to her car, shaking her head at Detective Green. Moments later, he closed his notepad and left her leaning against her car.

  Rory headed across the parking lot. “Are you okay?” She touched Dawn’s shoulder. “What did Detective Green want?”

  Dawn looked up, her face paler than Rory had ever seen it.

  “Here, sit down.” She led her to a stone bench on the sidewalk next to the parking lot. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “You’ve got to help me.”

  “Are you feeling worse? Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

  “I’m not sick anymore. It’s that detective. He thinks I did it.”

  “Detective Green? What does he think you did?”

  “Killed Willow.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “I was there the night she died.”

  “At her house?”

  “I found her body. What am I going to do?” Dawn buried her head in her hands.

  Rory patted her back a few times and waited for her to recover. Dawn took a deep breath and sat up, then turned to Rory and laid a pleading hand on her arm. “Please, help me.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can, but I’m not sure what’s going on. Tell me from the beginning.”

  In fits and starts, Dawn explained how she’d gone to Willow’s house late Friday evening, and when the woman didn’t answer the front door, she’d gone around to the back and discovered the body in the kitchen. “I didn’t kill her, I swear.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I don’t trust them. I saw what they did to you when you found that body in your garden.”

  “You must have realized they’d find out you were there.”

  “I thought I was careful. I wiped off everything I touched, or I thought I did. I stepped in some blood and didn’t realize it.”

  That explained the bloody shoe print near the body, Rory thought. “I can see why they’re suspicious.”

  “I didn’t do it. Now they want my DNA.”

  “Is that what Detective Green was talking to you about just now?”

  Dawn nodded, then took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I’m not giving it to them. I won’t be railroaded. You have to help me. You know what it’s like to be accused of murder when you’re innocent.”

  Rory cast her mind back to April when the police had suspected her of killing her painting teacher. She’d been proved innocent in the end, but she cringed every time she thought of how frightened she had been. She didn’t want anyone else to go through anything like that. “I’m not sure what I can do,” she said hesitantly.

  “Ask around. You solved those other murders. Aren’t you friends with that detective, the one you saw me talking to?”

  “You could hire a private investigator. I can give you a name.”

  “Can’t afford it. I’m barely getting by as it is.”

  Rory studied the woman’s hopeful face. Rory’s heart went out to her, and she remembered how comforting Dawn had been when her mother was sick.

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can find out. No promises though. And you’ve got to tell me everything.”

  “Of course. What do you want to know?”

  “Why did you go to see her?”

  “We had a bit of a dust-up. You remember, she stopped by my place when we were testing your software.” After Rory nodded, Dawn continued, “It wasn’t anything major, just a stupid argument about one of my classes. She was trying to tell me how to teach. Got my back up, you know.”

  Rory nodded, thinking of how fond Willow had been of giving unsolicited advice.

  “After our argument, she sent out an email to the students in one of my classes, saying some changes should be made. I give everyone a class list so they can contact each other, establish a painting community, not so they can criticize people.”

  “What sort of changes did she think you should make?”

  “She said I was too old-fashioned in the way I teach. Said I should use an overhead projector during class instead of using a poster board for my demonstrations.”

  “Is that why you decided to do the online courses?”

  “I was planning on starting them anyway.” Dawn took a deep breath. “I couldn’t get the argument and the email out of my head, so I stopped by her place that evening to have it out with her. Sure, I was mad, but I didn’t kill her!”

  “Doesn’t seem like much of a motive. Is that it?”

  “A neighbor saw me knocking on the door, and, to make matters worse, my cell phone puts me in the area around the time Willow died. Eleven p.m. She must have been killed right before I got there. I was planning on stopping by her house earlier, but I had errands to run. If I hadn’t had things to do, I might be dead now too.” Tears trickled down the woman’s face.

  Rory hugged her until she stopped crying.

  “Thanks.” Dawn took a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose. She gave Rory a faint smile. “Thanks so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Promise me you’ll try. That’s all I ask. You’re my only hope.”

  After Rory assured her she’d do what she could, Dawn headed back to her car.

  Rory was thinking about the conversation, sorting through everything in her mind, when a shadow fell over her. She looked up to find Detective Green standing in front of her, a serious expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at church, but duty calls.”

  “I understand. I saw you talking to Dawn earlier.”

  “Ms. Ogden’s a friend of yours, right? Are you two close?”

  “I’d say so. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m checking on her movements over the last few days. She said she saw you Friday evening. What t
ime was that?”

  “She didn’t do it, you know. Kill Willow. She’s not that kind of person.”

  He merely stared at her and waited for her response.

  “She was helping me test out my conferencing software. We started around seven thirty and finished a little after nine.”

  He jotted something down in his notebook. “Anything unusual happen during your test?”

  Rory stared down at her khakis. She didn’t want to get Dawn in any more trouble, but she couldn’t lie to the police, especially not to someone she considered a friend. She squared her shoulders and looked up. “Willow stopped by in the middle of the test, but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about.”

  “Was it friendly?”

  “Like I said, I couldn’t hear more than a few words, nothing that made sense to me, but the tone of their voices was a little…sharp.”

  “So they were arguing?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Did she and Ms. Bingen have a lot of issues?”

  “Not any more than anyone else. Willow could be…controlling. She liked to butt in to everyone’s lives.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yours too?”

  “Not yet.” But it was only a matter of time, Rory thought. “Dawn was stupid, not telling you she found Willow, but she couldn’t have done it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I just know.” She studied him. “What happened to the burglary-gone-wrong angle?”

  “We’re investigating all possibilities.” He snapped his notebook shut and put it back in the pocket of his suit. “I think your friend’s holding something back. If you have any influence over her, get her to tell us everything she knows. It’s better we find out from her rather than someone else. Thank you for your time.”

  As he headed toward his car, Rory stared after him, wondering if Dawn really was holding something back. She shook her head and began mentally planning her next move. Now that she knew approximately when Willow had died, she could question her neighbors to see if they’d seen anything. Hopefully, one of them could tell her something that would clear Dawn’s name.