All That Sparkles (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  My mouth falls open in exasperation as I quickly surmise he’s either insane or an exceptional story-teller.

  “I’m crazy? I’m crazy!” I shout at him. “I tried to tell you, tried to tell everyone out here, that a man just killed a woman over there in the alley, and all you did was sit on me!” I look at the officer and shake my head. “He just kept stabbing her and stabbing her. I tried to help her. I swear to God.”

  The middle-aged, ill-humored officer turns his head to speak into a small radio on his shoulder as he unsnaps an ominous-looking holster at his side.

  “Uh…10-23. This is Jamison. I’m at the Iron Horse on I-45 responding to a 10-15, now a possible 10-27. Standby for a 10-52. And send backup.”

  The radio crackles in response. “Uh…10-4 Officer Jamison. Standing by. Backup on its way,” a woman informs him.

  I stare in awe, wondering what the hell he just said. The only thing I understood was 10-4. Why don’t they just speak in plain English?

  Officer Jamison marches toward me and reaches for my arm, lifting me off the ground, none so gently to my surprise. “Okay. Show me,” he barks.

  “Ellie!” I look up to see Rachael and Misty at the door of the club waving like maniacs. “Ellie! Oh my God! Are you okay?” Rachael looks horrified, as she and Misty begin pushing their way through the crowd of gawkers to get to us. Misty holds her drink above her head, trying diligently not to spill any.

  “Yes, but I have to pee! And, I saw someone get murdered!” I shout back, realizing that I kind of buried the lead there.

  “Ma’am.” Officer Jamison addresses Rachael and Misty collectively. “I’m going to need you to wait over there.”

  “What?” Misty stops, offended and obviously agitated at being dismissed by a warm-blooded man with a penis. “Why? What the hell is going on?”

  “Come with me,” Officer Jamison commands, yanking me by the arm and practically dragging me back to the alley.

  “Hey!” I protest. “I’ll be right back!” I yell over my shoulder to Rachael and Misty before turning my attention back to the officer. “You don’t have to be so rough. It’s down there.” I point, not really wanting to see the poor woman again, and hoping he’ll let me go while he investigates. No such luck, though. He keeps a tight grip on my arm and I almost have to run to keep up with him.

  We continue on a short distance down the alley and then my heart sinks. There’s no sign of the man. “He’s gone.” I shake my head at Officer Jamison in dismay. “I knocked him out and he was lying right here,” I explain, shaking my hand at the spot where I left the unconscious man. Officer Jamison looks at me, doubt sketched on his face.

  “Really! I did! I had a pool cue and I hit him over the head with it,” I insist, though he’s obviously not buying it.

  “How much have you had to drink tonight, ma’am?” he asks in a condescending tone.

  “Quite a bit. I am at a bar,” I snap. “Okay, well, he might be gone, but she’s right over there.” I point toward the space between the two large bins where I left the woman’s lifeless body what seems hours ago now. My expression quickly turns to one of confusion as my hand sinks slowly back down to my side. She’s not there either. “What the hell?”

  “Okay, miss.” Officer Jamison looks at me like I’m trying his patience.

  Suddenly, the alley explodes with light as more police cars arrive on the scene. I assume they are the ‘back-up’ he requested.

  “Why don’t you start over and tell me what happened from the beginning?”

  I roll my eyes at him as I dance around with my teeth chattering.

  “Jamison!” From the headlights, I see the outline of a man jogging toward us. “What’s going on?” he shouts impatiently.

  Officer Jamison looks up and sighs. “Great.” He mumbles under his breath, and then launches into a quick version of events. “Detective Logan. You got here fast. Well, I got a report of a 10-15 that turned into a possible homicide. But apparently, the body has dissolved or dissipated because it ain’t here anymore. Or someone has just had a little too much to drink.” He glances at me and I give him the stink-eye. “I was just about to take this young lady’s statement. You can join us, if you want.”

  I am still processing the fact that Officer Rudeness is talking about me like I’m crazy and not standing right here beside him when Detective Logan steps out of the bright lights where I can see him. My breath catches. And, suddenly, I hear angels singing and I’m bathed in a soft, brilliant light. What the hell? I turn around and see one of the band members lighting a cigarette and playing Beyoncé on his iPod. Whew! Thought I was actually going crazy for a minute!

  Still, I’m no longer irritated with Officer Jamison and I forget about my bladder, which until a few minutes ago, is all I could think about. Now, I’m only acutely aware of this handsome male specimen right in front of me when, here I stand, my shirt and jeans spattered with blood and covered in pavement grime and worried that I have a boot print in the middle of my back. I know the damp night air has ruined my makeup, but that is nothing compared to my hair, which after my tussle with Chuck, the over-enthusiastic bouncer, I’m sure, looks like Don King came through a wind tunnel.

  Without thinking, I give myself a quick dusting and run my fingers through my hair. I even wipe my mouth for fear I may have drooled a little. I think about the poor dead woman and a pang of guilt ensues, but it dissolves just as quickly as I stare at the magnificent man now standing directly in front of me. Detective Logan? Detective Dreamy is more like it! I lick my lips nervously.

  “Ma’am!” Officer Jamison snaps, obviously irritated, and I jump, startled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What?” I reply, tearing my eyes away from Detective Dreamy, who seems to be amused by my reaction. Officer Jamison, unfortunately, does not, and he sighs grumpily.

  “Why don’t you just tell us what happened tonight?”

  I take a deep breath and then recount the night’s events in painful detail over the next several minutes, trying hard not to look at Detective Logan, except when he asks me a direct question. Two other officers scour the alley with flashlights as I recount the awful specifics.

  “A pool cue.” Jamison repeats when I’m done. “A pool cue?”

  I sigh. “Yes. Those sticks you play pool with, you know?” I motion like I’m playing pool and Detective Logan stifles a grin.

  “Jamison!” One of the other officers shouts. “Over here.”

  Detective Logan is the first to reach the officer who is leaning over the place where I left the woman. A large, dark stain blots the pavement, barely visible now with the officer’s flashlight. But it’s shiny when the light hits it, like it’s still wet.

  “It’s definitely blood,” Detective Logan says, running his gloved finger through it.

  Jamison looks at me, clearly surprised.

  “See? I told you,” I say, sounding more like my friend Misty than me.

  “Look at that.” The officer points behind me at a dark smear trailing down the side of the bin behind me. “That’s definitely blood, too.”

  “Over here!” another officer shouts from across the alley and we all scurry toward him.

  “There’s the pool cue!” I shout feeling somewhat vindicated. Detective Logan bends over and picks it up, examining it closely. There are traces of blood on the thick end of the stick, which further supports my story.

  “So.” Detective Dreamy looks at me intently and all I can do is stare at his lips while he talks, such full, lovely, tempting lips. “We have blood drying on the pavement over there, and lots of it. We have blood smears on the trash receptacle. We have a bloody pool cue over here, a witness with bloody hands and clothes, and a bloody knife.” He stops and looks quizzically at Jamison. “We do have a bloody knife. Right?”

  “Yes. Right. Here’s the knife,” says Jamison, shoving it toward him.

  Dreamy holds it up, examining it briefly before dropping it into a plastic baggie and continuing his assessment. �
�But…we have no victim and no perp.” He stares at the pool cue and the knife looking somewhat perplexed. “Did you get a good look at them? Could you identify them?” he asks me finally.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, my courage fading the more sober I become. But I’m actually fairly sure that I could. I shake my head. “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” he repeats, narrowing his steely eyes at me, and I stop breathing. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Miss…” He pauses for me to fill in the blank.

  “Carter,” I reply, feeling like a child being scolded. “Ellie. Carter. Ellie Carter.” Shut up! He gets it! “Um…let’s see.” I tap my index finger against my chin as I think. “We got here around nine thirty or so and started with a couple of tequila shots. After that, I had a Margarita and then I finished off Misty’s Cosmo. Then, I had one…no, make that two glasses of wine. And, that’s it,” I finish proudly.

  He looks at me, surprised. “In an hour’s time? That’s a lot of liquor for someone your size. Do you drink that much very often?”

  “It is?” I ask sheepishly. “No. I don’t normally drink like that. I’m here with my friends. We’re…kind of celebrating, I guess.”

  “Celebrating?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.” I shrug. “It’s a work thing.”

  “What do you want me to do with her?” Jamison interrupts, nodding toward me.

  His question confounds me. What does he mean ‘do with me’? And then the realization hits me. They think I did this! Detective Logan stares at me long and hard like I’m some kind of puzzle for him to solve. I almost blush.

  “Right now, she’s just a witness. Get her information and let her go,” he says, finally, and I sigh in relief, although I don’t much care for the sound of ‘right now’. Does that mean it might turn into something else later?

  Unsettled, I turn to leave, but Dreamy grabs my arm, yanking me to him so close that our faces almost touch. I gasp in surprise, thinking for a second that he’s about to kiss me. “But don’t go far, Miss Carter. I want to talk to you some more later.” His words drip with promise and my knees begin to buckle.

  “Um…okay,” I squeak.

  Surrounded by curious onlookers and a few uniformed officers trying their best to keep order, Misty and Rachael are waiting for us when we get back to Officer Jamison’s car.

  “There you are!” Rachael springs toward me, her arms extended to offer me a friendly, supportive hug. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” She fires questions at me in rapid succession giving me no time to answer. Then she holds me at arm’s length eyeing me up and down until, satisfied, she pulls me to her and squeezes me as she rocks me like a child. “Oh, sweetie.”

  Please stop squeezing me right now. I need to pee.

  Misty, who’s been chatting up a rather cute officer of her own, bats her eyes at me salaciously, no doubt for his benefit, and adds, “Honey, we’ve been so worried. I can’t even think straight.” She does a neat little double hair flip, that I resolve to have her teach me later, and then shivers, pulling her jacket tight around her as if she’s either deeply distressed or really cold.

  “See? I told you she’d be fine.” The young, smitten officer reaches out and gently rubs her shoulder. She smiles demurely at him.

  I have to suppress a smile of my own. Only Misty can take something like this and make it all about Misty. Rachael rolls her eyes, shaking her head with mock disgust. “Whatever. Do you want to go home? Do you want to go back in and sit down? How about a drink?”

  “I need to pee!” I insist.

  “I need to get some information first,” Officer Jamison interrupts. Rachael gives him a dirty look, but he ignores her and gives her officer a disapproving frown. “Let’s just start with your ID.”

  I grab my purse from Misty and I fish around for my wallet. “Here.” I hand it to Officer Jamison. Thirty minutes later, we’re done with the interrogation, Jamison is satisfied that he has all my correct digits and info, and I finally get a much-needed trip to the toilet. Forty-five minutes later, we’ve managed to pry Misty away from Officer Good-Body and we’re on our way home.

  Chapter Three

  “That’s freaking unbelievable!” Rachael says when I finish recapping the events of the evening. She grips the steering wheel tightly as she considers all the facts. “So what happened, do you think? Did he wake up and just decide to take her body with him?”

  “I have no idea.” I shake my head slowly. My previous buzz has settled into a pounding headache now. “Maybe. Honestly, he could have been dead the whole time for all I know. I didn’t check him for a pulse.”

  “Well, he obviously wasn’t dead,” Misty adds from the back seat where she’s been listening intently. “Unless he came back as a zombie and ate all the evidence before you got back.” She giggles at herself. “But seriously, don’t you think it’s weird that he would steal her body? I mean, what the fuck is that all about?”

  “I don’t know. It all just seems so surreal now. All of it.” Even I start to doubt myself.

  “Creepy is more like it,” Misty mumbles. “But tell me more about this Detective Creamy.”

  “Dreamy!” Rachael and I correct her in unison. She is such a slut. But she’s our slut.

  “You know you’re probably going to have to pick this guy out of a lineup now and testify and stuff,” Rachael says, ignoring Misty.

  I hadn’t even thought about that.

  “If they catch him,” Misty points out.

  “Of course they’ll catch him,” Rachael snaps. “They have his DNA, his blood on that pool cue. Right?” She glances at me for confirmation.

  I nod slowly, realizing the extent of the God-awful mess I’ve gotten myself into.

  “Oh, my Lord!” Misty suddenly screams. Startled, Rachael jerks the wheel and the car swerves dramatically. I have my second brush with death tonight.

  “Fuck! What is it now?” Rachael yells irritably at the back seat once we’re recovered.

  “What if he comes after Ellie?” Misty sounds half-scared, half-excited.

  “Misty! Don’t be stupid.” Rachael cuts her eyes toward me, gauging my reaction.

  No big surprise here. My eyes are wide as saucers and I’ve stopped breathing. I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

  “Well, what if he does?” Misty insists.

  “He doesn’t even know who she is,” Rachael argues, but continues to throw me concerned glances. “Don’t worry about that,” she coos as she softly rubs my knee. “He’d never try to come after you. He’ll be more concerned about getting the hell out of Dodge than anything else. He’s probably halfway to Detroit by now, Ellie. And, that’s a long way from Little Rock, Arkansas.”

  I give her a shaky smile and turn back to face my window. What if he does come after me? Could he find me? Would he even remember what I look like? Surely not. I see Rachael’s reflection in my window shaking her head in warning at Misty. To hell with this.

  I turn to address them both. “Well, all I know is that was the last time you guys get to plan our evening out.” We laugh and the mood gets lighter for the last few miles to my house.

  Rachael pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park, which Misty sees as an opportunity to lean forward and place her elbows on the console.

  “Damn, Misty. Why don’t you just climb up here and sit on our laps?” Rachael says playfully.

  “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teases, knowing that Rachael tends to prefer members of the fairer sex.

  “Dream on,” Rachael quips, and then looks at me seriously. “Do you want us to come in with you?”

  “No. That’s not necessary.” I laugh nervously.

  “We don’t mind,” Rachael insists, looking at Misty and nodding her head as if to convince her. “Or, you can come home with us, if you want.”

  “Thank you, but no.” I smile and give them each a hug before I step out of the car. “I’m tired and I just want to go t
o bed now. But thanks. Really.”

  I hasten up the porch steps to the front door, fumbling for my keys along the way. Misty jumps out of the car and replaces herself in the passenger seat as Rachael gives two short beeps on the horn.

  “Night, Ellie! I’ll call you tomorrow.” I watch briefly as the car begins to back down the drive.

  “Goodnight, guys!” I wave to them again as I step inside and close the door. I lock it, bolt it, and then fasten the chain with surprising fervor before I turn and lean against it. Exhausted, I take a deep, cleansing breath, toss my jacket on the sofa, and kick off my shoes. What a night.

  Finally, the thought of Advil entices me to move again and I head off down the hallway to the bathroom, peeling off clothes as I go. I emerge a few minutes later medicated, teeth brushed, and stripped down to my skivvies with only one thought in mind…sleep.

  My bedroom is dark and cool, just how I normally like it. But tonight, I would have preferred a little more light. I will not get creeped out. I will not get creeped out. My alarm clock informs me that it is almost one-thirty in the morning, but I don’t mind because tomorrow is Saturday and I can sleep as long as I want. The thought makes me smile as I crawl beneath the cool sheets, pulling Aunt Jo’s super soft quilt up to my chin. Ahh. I snuggle in and close my eyes, too tired to think anymore.

  I blink, unsure of where I am exactly. I’m confused, but not really scared as I look around for a clue that might help me figure it out. It’s a small room, sparsely furnished, and lit only by the delicate moonlight filtering in from a big, round window overhead. There’s nothing familiar about any of it.

  A large full-length mirror stands by itself in the middle of the room and I’m drawn to my own reflection. My chestnut hair is long and straight and seems to be behaving for once. My makeup looks a little heavier than I normally wear, but it’s the deep, red lipstick that really catches my eye—well, that, and the striking red dress that I have on. I run my hands over my hips and up my sides. The soft, silky linen feels good against my hot skin. Really good. The dress is bright red with a plunging neckline, and its short hem is only accented by my strappy black high heels. I almost feel sexy. Yes, definitely sexy.