Microphones and Murder Page 6

  Eventually, the adrenaline drained from my body and my sanity returned.

  Holy hell.

  I grabbed hold of Hazel’s arm. “I’m sorry about the window. I’ll clean the mess and pay for the repair.”

  “Never you mind all that.” Hazel placed the last bandage on my face and smoothed it down with her finger. She had a grandmother’s touch.

  “We can stay at a hotel if you’re uncomfortable?” I offered.

  “Don’t you dare. It’s only a piece of fruit. Plus—” A smile crept across her face. “—I think it’s all rather exciting.”

  Glad she thinks so.

  We were back in the guest room. It was windy outside, and because there was no glass in the window, it was windy inside. The floor was peppered in leaves and pine needles from the front yard trees. I picked the apple up by the stem. “It’s more oval than round, with moles, and it doesn’t have the waxy feel of a store-bought apple,” I said into the recorder.

  Hazel looked closer. “Honey crisp is my guess. They grow decent around here. But this is one ugly apple. Like some kind of mutant.”

  “Any of your neighbors have a honey crisp apple tree?” I asked Hazel.

  “Not on this street. Weird thing to throw through a window.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “A bit risky, too. An apple might not necessarily break the glass. A brick or a rock would do the job.”

  “Seriously?” Camry said. “You two are spending way too much time examining a freaking piece of fruit and too little time calling the police.”

  Good point.

  An hour later we (as in the police officer called to take the report, Camry, Hazel and myself) stood together on the driveway looking up at the window. “Hazel’s driveway is long and curved, no chance someone threw the apple and ran away before Camry and I looked out. Which meant whoever threw it, hid until the coast was clear. Or maybe they’re still hiding,” I said into the recorder.

  “I thoroughly searched the area,” said the cop, a young guy with dark sideburns and a dimple chin.

  Camry patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, she’s world building.”

  “For the podcast?” asked the Officer.

  “Exactly.” Camry held up a Ziploc with the apple in it. “Here’s your evidence. You can run fingerprints on fruit. I googled it. They’re doing it in England.”

  The police officer took the bag and examined the apple. “Not sure the department will cover the cost of running prints on fruit.”

  “You need to give it to Detective LeClare,” I said. “She’s the one working the Amelia Clark disappearance, and obviously whoever threw that apple is involved.”

  “Yeah,” added Camry. “And tell her we want to speak to her.”

  In my periphery I could see Oliver running down the driveway. He had a wetsuit on his lower extremities and a hoodie on the upper.

  I checked my watch: five forty-five a.m. Surfing time.

  “You okay?” Oliver slouched down so he and Hazel were face-to-face. “I was about to leave when I saw the cop car.”

  “I’m fine,” Hazel said and signed. “It was a little mishap.”

  Camry tapped Oliver’s shoulder to get his attention. “It wasn’t a mishap.” She whirled her hands around while she talked. It looked like she was attempting to sign “Jingle Bells.” “It was assault with a fruity weapon.”

  Oliver looked to me for clarification.

  “A person threw an apple through the window,” I signed.

  Oliver took a step closer. “You’re hurt!” He grabbed my face between his hands and examined my cuts.

  “It’s fine. Good thing I’m not taller, the apple would have smacked me right in the head.” I laughed.

  Oliver didn’t. He traced the bandage on my forehead with his fingertip and stared intently. His eyes were a deep, sea color blue with specs of green and white, striking against his dark hair.

  “I’m going to head out,” said the cop.

  For a second, I forgot he was there.

  “The cop is speaking to me,” I said to Oliver.

  Oliver’s eyes dropped and his face went red. He took a step back and bumped into Camry. Then stumbled into the cop. Then stepped on Hazel’s foot and used her shoulder to steady himself.

  I smiled inwardly.

  What can I say? I have that effect on men.

  Okay, I typically didn’t but, you know, there was a first for everything.

  Episode Five

  Planted

  “Hazel’s grandson helped us board up the window. Now we wait and see if the detective contacts us,” I said to my brother, David. The phone was sandwiched between my ear and shoulder while I pushed the cart behind Camry. We were at Target. We’d come to buy antacids but got sucked into the bargain bin area. “I offered to stay at a hotel, but Hazel wouldn’t hear anything of it.”

  David was at work. I could hear the station chatter in the background. He was recently promoted to detective. A huge relief. I didn’t like him on patrol. It’s a dangerous world out there and people are monsters. “Sure, it could have been someone trying to scare you off, or they were attempting to get your attention, saw the light on, threw the apple, didn’t anticipate the apple going through the window, got scared and took off.”

  He made a good point. I hadn’t thought of that.

  Camry held up a hat with I’m not short. I’m travel sized printed on the front. “You need this,” she mouthed.

  I shook my head no.

  Camry threw the hat in the cart.

  I placed it back on the rack.

  “Liv, now I’m worried,” said David. “Can’t you investigate from home?”

  “What? No! I’m fine. We’re fine. It was just an apple.” Aimed right at my head.

  “An apple this time. Next it could be a brick, or a keyed car, or you’re run off the road by a maniac, or taken hostage, or even murdered. People are crazy.” David didn’t have to listen to true crime podcasts because he lived it. “Give me the address where you’re staying. I’m sending you pepper spray. No arguments about it.” David took his role as protective older brother serious.

  It wasn’t like pepper spray was going to protect me from flying fruit (or a flying brick), but I gave him the address anyway. We hung up with the promise I’d be careful.

  Camry held up a spiral notepad with a unicorn on the cover. “I feel like I need this.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Notes?”

  “How much?”

  “A dollar?”

  “Eh, whatever. It’s your money”

  She tossed it into the cart. “Also, how cute are these tissues?” She held up travel-sized Kleenex with owls printed on them.

  “It’s up to you.”

  Camry tossed them in.

  “Did David say anything about me?” she asked while looking through the gift labels. “Like, did he ask if I got hurt or if I was okay?”

  “Of course.” That was a lie. He didn’t ask about her. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. David had never paid much attention to Camry. Not because he didn’t care about her, and not because her mother married our father less than a year after our mom died, and not because she’s so much younger than him, but because...well...scratch that. Those are the reasons why he didn’t pay much attention to her.

  “What did he say about me?” Camry asked.

  Oh geez. I sucked at lying. “He wants to make sure we’re safe.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged like she’s doesn’t care, but I caught a smile spreading across her face. At our parents’ wedding, Camry had given a toast about how excited she was to finally have siblings.

  I feared neither David nor I lived up to the hype.

  Camry tossed a pink tumbler into the cart along with a scarf, a package of mechanical penc
ils, and an eraser in the shape of an elephant.

  “Okay, I think you’re covered. Let’s go find the antacids before you spend any more money.” I had to get control of the fire raging in my throat before I could concentrate on anything else. Hazel had made homemade maple-bacon glazed donuts this morning and served them with fresh fruit, cheesy eggs, sausage, and indigestion.

  We followed the signs to the laxatives, antacids and nausea medicine aisle. I could use all three. Camry consulted the back of a Pepcid AC box. “I’ve never had such bad heartburn in all my life.”

  “How can we ask Hazel to stop feeding us so much without being rude?”

  Camry grabbed one of every antacid and dropped them in the cart. “I don’t know, maybe there’s a card for that?” I followed her three aisles over to the greeting card section. “Let’s see, ‘thank you religious.’ ‘Thank you funny.’ ‘Thank you sentimental.’ ‘Thank you sympathy.’” There’s no thank you but for the love of all that is holy put away the deep fryer. Hallmark should really look into that.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think there’s a tactful way to refuse her food. We have to suck it up and eat.” I grabbed a bottle of Tums. “Can we take this and other antacids at the same time?”

  “Let me see.” Camry studied the back of the bottle. “Oh, I just remembered.”

  “What?”

  “That I’m not a pharmacist. Let’s go ask.”

  We got in line at the pharmacy. The acid was blistering in my esophagus and I couldn’t wait any longer and popped two Tums into my mouth.

  “I saw that,” someone loudly whispered into my ear.

  Startled, I whirled around. It was Oliver. He released a lopsided smile. Sometime between this morning and now, Oliver had cut his hair. Goodbye mop of dark curls. Hell-o coiffed mane.

  Wow. Good thing he isn’t my cousin.

  I playfully smacked him on the arm. “You scared me.”

  Oliver feigned pain. “So violent,” he said and signed.

  “Don’t mess with a woman who has heartburn.”

  “I see my grandma is feeding you well.”

  “She’s trying to kill us by way of consumption.” Camry ran her finger across her neck. Which isn’t the sign for kill, but got the point across. “Oh, I forgot.”

  “That you’re not an ASL interpreter,” I said.

  “No, that I need toothpaste. Be right back.” She dashed off, stopping first at an end cap to check out the selection of discounted lip glosses.

  I turned to Oliver. “What brings you to Target on this fine day?” I asked and signed.

  He held up a package of HDMI cables. “For the security cameras I’m installing at my grandma’s house.”

  I moved up in line. Oliver moved with me.

  “I feel terrible. I told her we’d stay at a hotel, and I offered to pay for the window. She won’t hear of it. Please let me pay for the security cameras.”

  “The system’s five-hundred dollars.”

  I nearly passed out. “What I meant to say was, help. Let me help cover the cost by buying those cables...assuming they’re under a hundred bucks.”

  Oliver placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s not a problem,” he said without signing. “She doesn’t know I’m installing them. It’s mostly for my own peace of mind. I’m wondering if this is all worth it though?”

  He lost me. “If the cameras are worth it, because I’m sure you can find a cheaper system on eBay.”

  “No, the podcast you and Camry are trying to do. Is it worth getting hurt over?”

  “No one got hurt.”

  He gave me a look.

  “Okay, I got a few scratches, but if I thought we were in serious life-threatening danger I’d send Camry home and go to a hotel.”

  We moved up in line.

  Oliver ran a hand through his newly coiffed mane. “I don’t think you realize that this is big time, real world stuff you’re getting involved in. It’s not a joke or a game, or something to be taken lightly.”

  “Excuse me?” I liked messy haired Oliver better.

  “I think you’re in over your head here. Maybe you two should think about doing a different project.”

  “Over my head? I’m in over my head? You think I’m in over my head?” When I’m upset, I’ll repeat the offending remark over and over until I can come up with a good retort. “I’m in over my head?” Sometimes it takes a while.

  “Next!” said the pharmacist tech.

  “They’re calling me up,” I signed. “Goodbye.”

  I left Oliver and pushed my cart up to the counter, seething. The pharmacist tech, Penny (per her name tag), drummed her lacquered nails on the register while I slammed the antacids on the counter, mumbling to myself, “Over my head? I’m a podcaster. He makes YouTube videos. Where’s the camaraderie?”

  “Excuse me?” asked Penny

  “Sorry, I’m talking to myself.” I dropped the last of the medication on the antacid pyramid I’d built on the counter. “Which of these combinations would be best to battle the worst heartburn known to man?”

  “Let me ask the pharmacist.” Penny went to talk to the man counting pills behind the partition.

  Do I think this is a joke?

  Does he see me laughing?!

  Camry appeared at my side with a box of Direct Dental Toothpaste, lip gloss, and a nail file. “Where’d Oliver go?”

  “To buy an over-priced security system,” I said and left it at that.

  “Awe. Do you miss him?” She dug her elbow into my rib.

  “No.”

  “Yes you do. My sister has the hots for my cousin,” she sang and now everyone was staring at us.

  “No, I don’t,” I said loud enough for all to hear. “And maybe we don’t say that sentence in public.”

  “Good idea.”

  Penny returned and plucked two boxes from the pyramid. “He says you can take these and the Tums.” Of course, they’re the most expensive brands. Whatever. At this point I’d swallow a cactus if it would help.

  Okay, maybe not a cactus.

  Penny rang us up. “Did I hear you say podcast?”

  Camry slid a can of mints across the counter. “Yes, we’re doing a podcast about a local girl, Amelia Clark, who disappeared in 2008.”

  Penny twisted her face. “I knew Millie. We worked together at Direct Dental.”

  Camry and I both froze in place.

  Penny?

  My mind spun this name around.

  Penny?

  Aha!

  “Are you Penny McDonald?” I asked.

  I’d found a Penny McDonald when I searched ‘Direct Dental employees 2008’ on LinkedIn. I’d sent her a message, but she never responded. This Penny didn’t look like the LinkedIn Penny. LinkedIn Penny was a slender blonde with long hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a smooth complexion. This Penny was round and blemished and her eyes didn’t sparkle. But I could see the resemblance.

  “No. I’m Penny Green,” she said. “Sure, I was once Penny McDonald. I was originally Penny Scott. Once I was Penny Lin, but we don’t need to get into that right now.” She snorted a laugh.

  That was lot of Pennys to keep track of.

  “I sent you a message on LinkedIn,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah? Like, I don’t ever go on there anymore,” she said with a shrug. “What’s the point when you got a job, right?”

  “Can I speak to you about Amelia? Do you have a break coming up? We’ll wait for however long. It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want.” I knew I sounded eager and a bit too desperate—but that’s only because I was eager and a bit too desperate.

  Penny checked the clock on the wall behind her. “I’m off in three hours.”

  “Perfect. Where should we meet?” I handed her a business card with all my information on it
.

  “In the back near the dumpsters. It’s where employees have to park.” Penny scanned the last of our medicine. “That’ll be seventy-three dollars.”

  Ouch. That put a ding in my budget. However, we didn’t have to buy our own toilet paper anymore, and I did score an interview out of it.

  Worth it.

  To pass the time, Camry and I drove to the Orcutt Hollow where Amelia’s car was found. The trail starts at the end of a residential street at the very south point of Santa Maria. In 2008, this was an unofficial hiking trail. A few years ago, the property was purchased by a third party and donated to the city. Now, Santa Maria Parks and Rec ran it. They’ve since paved a parking lot and put in mile markers—which is wonderful for the residents here, but terrible for us because it completely changed the landscape.

  “Based on this—” Camry held up the picture of Amelia’s car—a white Toyota Camry. “—she was parked right—” She spun around with her arm outstretched, finger pointed. “—there.”

  “Are you sure?” She was pointing at a fire hydrant.

  “Positive. Look at the background. It’s the same brown hills.”

  She was right.

  In the picture, Amelia’s car was parked at the curb. There were wild grown shrubs and a dead tree beside her vehicle and the same brown hills off in the distance. Now, there was a fire hydrant, manicured bushes, and a row of newly built homes.

  “This bothers me,” I said into the recorder. “On the tenth of October, which was a Friday night, Amelia was dressed like she was going out. A skirt, heels, and black leggings underneath, which must have been the style in 2008. You don’t dress up like that unless you’re going to meet friends, or even going on a date. Then she takes out three hundred dollars, which is a lot of cash to carry. Then her car is found here. I think it was a plant.”

  “It’s not a plant,” Camry said. “It’s a fire hydrant.”

  I gave her a look, not in the mood for jokes.

  “Sorry,” she said and backed away.

  “A plant as in, someone put her car here to make it look like she went hiking and disappeared.”

  “What if she went hiking the next morning and did disappear? Like you said.”