Corpse in the Crystal Ball (9 page)

Selena glanced at my pen poised above my handy-dandy notebook, ready to take down every word. “Mitch is a very private person. You should probably ask him that question.”

“Oh, right. I’ll be sure to do that.” Disappointment surged through me like a vision, filling my senses to the core. He’d sooner pull out his eyelashes one by one than tell me the answer to that question. Ugh. I forced myself to focus. “Can you tell me about the last phone call Isabel made to you on the night she died?”

“Well, it was a bit strange. She called me out of the blue. Said she had no one else to turn to. That Mitch wasn’t an option anymore. She said she made a huge mistake, and that she was in danger. Someone was following her. Then she screamed, and her phone went dead. I called back all night, but she never answered. That’s when I packed a bag and took the bus to Divinity.”

“You still here?” Mitch asked, strolling out of his
bedroom and filling the doorway, fully dressed in NYPD sweats and a black T-shirt, thank goodness.

“I need to ask you some questions,” I answered.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’m exhausted and need some time alone. I’m going to retreat to my room. I have a funeral to plan. It was nice seeing you, Sunny.” Selena waved at me and then smiled gratefully at Mitch. “Thank you so much, Mitchie. I’ll never forget this.”

He hugged her tight. “Let me know if you need anything, Lena. Anything at all.”

“I will.” She picked up her half-eaten plate of food, walked away quietly, and disappeared as if she’d never been there.

And suddenly we were alone.

Mitch grabbed a container of food and a paper plate from the kitchen and then sat on the couch beside me. He crossed his bare feet at the ankles, plopping them on his coffee table. A whiff of his soap and aftershave traveled through my nose and warmed my insides. He just stared at me until I squirmed and pulled my legs back, sitting pretzel-style.

“Mitchie?” I asked, laughing to diffuse the tension between us.

His lips twitched once, but he tried to hide it on a shrug, of course. “Selena’s a sweetheart. She shouldn’t have to go through something like this.”

I set my pen down, all traces of humor gone from my face. “Neither should you, Mitch. I know you didn’t kill Isabel.”

“Good.” His face hardened. “Then you know I should also be working this case.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You’re too close to it. It’s personal now.”

“Damn right it’s personal,” he thundered, glanced toward the guest bedroom, and then lowered his voice. “No offense, Sunny, but you don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”

“It’s not like I’m working alone. Detective Fuller is in charge. I’m just doing a little digging on my own as usual.” I winked.

Mitch scowled. “Fuller doesn’t know squat. He’s a nice guy, and all, but let’s just say he’s not that ambitious. They’re crazy if they think I won’t do a little digging of
my
own.”

“You really are that stubborn, aren’t you?” I shook my head. “If you want to help, then help me. Tell me what you know, and then”—I cleared my throat again—“take care of Selena until all this blows over.”

“Don’t you worry, Tink. I plan to take care of her.” He pounded his fist on the cushion beside him. “If it wasn’t for me, her sister would be alive right now.”

“Is that why Isabel wrote that message ‘It’s okay, Mitch. You didn’t mean it. I forgive you’?”

His eyes met mine and held me captive. Then he ran a hand over his face and continued. “The day before Isabel died she cornered me during lunch at Nikko’s. I was eating alone, but the place was packed. She tried to get me to run away with her and start over again. I told her I still hadn’t changed my mind. We were over, and we were never getting back together.” He searched my eyes as though trying to read my mind. For once I mastered his show-no-emotion look while on the inside I was melting into a puddle of desire and hope.

“She threatened to make trouble for me. That’s when I shouted that if she didn’t leave town, she would be sorry.” He frowned and a brief pained expression crossed his face, but then his expression turned to stone once more. “She
mentioned she thought someone was following her, but I didn’t believe her. I thought she was desperate and would say anything to get me to stay, so I ignored her plea for help and stormed out of the restaurant.”

He looked me in the eye. “Now do you see why it’s my fault? I could have saved her. Only I never spoke to her again. I left town the next day right after I saw you. Isabel tried to call my cell shortly after, but I was on my motorcycle and couldn’t answer.”

He searched my eyes again, looking for what, exactly, I wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a soft aura about him, as if all his emotions were seeping to the surface, no longer wanting to be kept behind his wall. I couldn’t look away. We were connecting on such an astral level, it was amazing. I opened my mind to comfort him and urge him forward when he added, “I came back early because I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said.”

My heart hit my stomach and then bounced back into my throat. We were going to have
that
discussion now? Was I even ready? I had no clue how to respond. “This wasn’t your fault, Mitch,” I finally said, but his face just hardened more and the aura started to fade. “Did she say who she thought might be following her? Any hints or clues at all?”
Business first,
I told myself. Then we’d have time to figure “us” out.

“No, I never gave her the chance,” he answered grimly, obviously not pleased with my focus.

I thought about my readings for Isabel and the police. They had clearly shown that Isabel knew he had been about to propose to her. She had also said
I didn’t tell her.… She just … saw.
I wondered if Mitch knew she was talking about me, and that I knew about his sister. I didn’t know all
the details, but I knew she was murdered. That she had told him someone was after her.

That he hadn’t believed her, either.

I still didn’t know why Mitch hadn’t proposed to Isabel, though. What had that phone call been about, and how had it changed everything? How was I going to help him if he wouldn’t open up to me?

“Are we done now, Tink?”

“One more thing. Why didn’t you propose to Isabel?” The question seemed to pop out of my mouth all on its own.

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely done,” was all he said, stabbing the plastic fork back into the container of lo mein he’d been about to dish onto his plate.

I paused and then finally replied, “I guess we are.” Which also meant the conversation about “us” wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, if ever.

I didn’t head home after I left Mitch’s apartment, but I didn’t call Detective Fuller, either. I wasn’t sure what mess Isabel had gotten herself into, whether Mitch had been involved or not, who was following her, or how much to go public with. So for now I headed to the one place that had always brought me peace and all the answers I needed.

The library.

I still had an hour before the library closed. Stepping through the front doors, I entered the small but quaint establishment that felt more like a home than a library—one of the things I loved most about it. The place had a cozy atmosphere I’d always found welcoming, with an early pioneer, log cabin theme.

Scenic pictures of the Adirondack Mountains and rivers of upstate New York filled with moose, bear, elk, and deer decorated the log-cabin-style walls. Simple rugged, heavy small tables made from bare wood were strategically placed throughout the building. And wonderful books of all kinds graced the shelves of the light oak bookcases, which stood in rows like proud soldiers. Antique knickknacks made from pottery and stoneware were scattered about as well as natural rocks, animal hides, antlers, barrels, horseshoes, and Native American trinkets.

“That mystery book you put on reserve is in,” Carolyn Hanes said, glancing at me with her big eyes. After the former librarian, Amanda Robbins’s, murder had been solved, Carolyn had become the new librarian. We’d gotten off to a rough start, but had since become amicable acquaintances.

“Thanks, Carolyn. I’ll pick it up on my way out.” I headed to the computers in the back and sat down.

Almost everything could be found on the Internet if you did enough digging. Births, deaths, arrests, etcetera, were all a matter of public record. There were news reports, newspaper clippings, and police reports. Everything I needed.

It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for.

I read about Mitch’s younger sister, Miranda Stone. He’d been working on an undercover sting operation, which involved drug lords. Miranda had received threats, but Mitch had been so focused on cracking the case, he didn’t have time to worry about silly fears. He never imagined those fears could be tied to him …until she was murdered by a hit man as a warning for Mitch to back off.

He went on a rampage and busted the drug lords but never did find his sister’s killer. He was only twenty-five at the time. It had been ten years since his sister’s death, and he still carried around that pain. He’d never received closure. Knowing him, I was sure he felt like he’d let her down.

Poor Mitch. For his sister to have been killed by the same creeps he’d been trying to take down was just awful. I read on and continued my research, beginning to understand where his anger and distance came from.

Isabel Gonzales had graduated high school with honors and went off to college on a full scholarship just like her sister had said. Then she’d landed a great job in a small electronics company called New Generation Electronics at twenty-two. Then just one year later, she …

Oh my God, she’d been arrested!

I read the date and gasped. Mitch was the one who’d brought her down five years ago. That must have been the phone call he’d received. He’d gotten a tip that she’d embezzled millions from the company, and he’d had no choice. He’d had to arrest the woman he had been about to propose to and put her in jail.

She’d just been released in January. Now I understood why she’d scarred his face. But there was one thing I didn’t understand.

Why come back for the man who betrayed you?

“Detective Fuller, it’s so nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and sat across from him at the small, round wrought-iron cocktail table in Warm Beginnings & Cozy Endings Café the next morning. The place was buzzing with activity, with the sound of clanking sliver and glassware bouncing off the gleaming cream-swirled tile floor.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Meadows.”

“I’m excited we’ll be working together. I only hope I can be of some assistance to your department. What happened is such a tragedy. The killer must be caught soon, for Divinity’s sake.”

“The captain speaks highly of you and your services. I’m sure you’ll be a great asset in wrapping up this case quickly. Lord knows Divinity doesn’t need more drama,” he responded with a genuine smile.

He looked to be in his midforties with a potbelly and a
bad dark blond comb-over. “But whatever you do, don’t tell the missus you saw me eating these.” He gestured to the half-eaten donuts on his plate, the telltale crumbs sprinkled over his shirtfront. “My cholesterol’s too high, and she’s got me on some health food diet I just can’t stomach.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I pretended to zip my lips and throw away the key.

“Why then, I reckon we’re gonna get along just fine.” He winked.

“I reckon so.” I winked back and laughed.

“I was just looking over my notes for the case before you got here.” He took a swig of coffee, then held up his cup in question.

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

Over breakfast that morning, Granny Gert had filled me in on my parents’ phone call. They were upset that I was involved in another murder. But once Granny assured them I wasn’t a suspect this time, because I was with her at the time of the murder, they’d let it go. They decided to stay home, assuring her they would call as soon as her repairs were finished.

Then Granny had proceeded to stuff me like a pig, as if I were still twelve, before she let me leave the house. Only I wasn’t a child. I was a grown woman, investigating a serious matter—murder.

I rubbed my hands together to rid myself of the early morning chill, ready to get down to business. “What do we have so far?”

“Well, let’s see.” He scanned the notebook on the table before him. “Isabel Gonzales arrived in Divinity two weeks before her death two days ago. In that time she managed to
anger half the town. The way I see it, any number of people could have wanted her dead. The question is, what was she doing here?”

“Her sister said Ms. Gonzales wanted to make a new start, but first she came to Divinity to make amends with Detective Stone.” I took a sip of water and cleared my throat. “They used to date, and I guess she wanted him back,” I finally got out. “Any suspects stand out yet?”

Detective Fuller tapped his pen on the table as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Well, the obvious one is Detective Stone. He was heard arguing with Ms. Gonzales on a number of occasions. And the day before she died, he was heard saying that if she didn’t leave town, she would be sorry. Then there’s her last words to the detective scrawled into the dirt: ‘You didn’t mean it. I forgive you.’ I can’t help wondering what didn’t he mean, and why does she need to forgive him? And what else, exactly, had she been about to say?”