Out for Blond Read online

  He got up and came after me. “Ivy, wait.”

  I opened the door to his office.

  He caught me by the shoulder and turned me to face him. “Listen, it can be an addiction, just the same as gambling or drugs or—”

  “Stop it, Miles.” I shook him off. I felt dangerously close to tears now, because I had really made a mess of this whole thing. I was such an idiot, saying stupid things. “I was worried about you, that’s all. I said it because I was worried about you.”

  He tensed, letting go of me. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

  Shit, now I’d made it worse. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I really do care about you, and I…” Shit, shit, shit.

  “I’ll print you out the crime scene photos, all right?”

  “You will?” I was confused. “But you said—”

  “Just promise me you’re doing this to find the truth, not just because you need money or something.”

  “Doing what?” I was even more confused.

  “The Tess Carver case,” he said. “Promise me you’re looking for the truth.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Well, you’ve got an instinct about these things. If you think there’s something we’ve missed, then I don’t mind letting you look over things. Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes on a case. I’ll give you the photos.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot.”

  But he wasn’t meeting my gaze again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Brigit thinks that I’m being charmed by Gunner Bray,” I said, peeling at the label of my High Life. I was sitting in the back of The Remington with Crane, who was vaping something that smelled like oranges and drinking a cranberry and vodka.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Are you?”

  “Well, I don’t think so, but I suppose I could be. Anything’s possible. What do you think?”

  “I don’t see why she’d think that,” he said. “I mean, knowing you, I’d say you’re one of the least likely women to fall victim to a man’s charms. It’s just not in your nature to be sentimental that way.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, you’re much too…” He sucked on his e-cigarette and then blew out thoughtful vapor. “Pragmatic. You aren’t swayed by a pretty face or anything like that.”

  “How do you know?” I said. “After all, I put up with you.”

  He laughed. “Oh, you think my face is pretty, then, do you?”

  “Don’t be an idiot, you know you’re gorgeous, Crane.”

  He was still laughing. “Gorgeous, am I?”

  I rolled my eyes and took a swig of my beer. He was vain, and I was feeding his arrogance. “Seriously, do you think that it’s obvious that Gunner’s guilty? Do you think I’m wasting my time?”

  “I don’t know that it’s obvious, but it does seem likely, I suppose. That guy seems like a real jerk, and I wouldn’t mind thinking he was a murderer. He’s certainly not someone that I’d like to be friends with.”

  “Right, but the fact that he’s an ass doesn’t make him a murderer.”

  “From what you’ve told me, though, he looks guilty, doesn’t he? He lied to you. He’s got motive—”

  “Well, he says that killing her has actually made it tough for him to see his son,” I said, “and besides, I don’t think he’s particularly all that interested in his children, considering he has so many.”

  “He’s got lots of kids?”

  “Yeah, with zillions of women on the farm. Apparently, he sleeps with everyone.”

  “Well, this just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” Crane laughed. “He really is an ass, isn’t he?”

  I cringed. “Yeah, he’s a jerk, all right.”

  Crane gave me a funny look. “Wait, hold up a second, Ivy.”

  “Hold up?”

  “You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

  I took another drink of my beer. “Why would you say that?” But I wasn’t looking at Crane.

  “Oh, holy hell, you did. For fuck’s sake, that’s really going a bit far, don’t you think? I mean, aren’t you supposed to keep your hands off of your clients, at least?”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, shut up.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, just because I’m supposed to doesn’t mean that I always manage it, you know.”

  He groaned. “You really did sleep with him, then?”

  I shrugged. “Well, it was kind of his idea. He sort of seduced me.”

  “What? And you’re asking me if you’re under his charm? Then, the answer is obviously yes, and it’s not good, because he gets you to abandon your morals, thin as they may be. I mean, here you are, saying that you won’t sleep with clients, and he somehow talks you into it.”

  “He didn’t talk me into it.”

  “Seduces you into it, whatever. The point is, he made you change your position. He has power over you.”

  I finished the rest of my High Life in one drink. “So, it’s bad. He’s charmed me, then. And thinking that he might be innocent is just a silly idea?”

  “Kind of sounds like it,” he said. “But why are you asking me this?”

  “I just want to know if it’s the right thing to drop the case or not,” I said. “Look, I have these crime scene photos.” I reached into my bag to get them out.

  He held up his hands. “Whoa, what are you doing? I don’t want to see those. You’ll give me nightmares.”

  “I just need to be sure,” I said. “It could be that more than one person killed Tess Carver.”

  “So Gunner had a helper. Or he ordered two of his people to do it.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Even if two people did it, it doesn’t clear Gunner’s name.”

  “But it does mean that the case is more complicated than people think it is,” I said. “It means there’s something there. I need to follow up on that.”

  “Do you?” he said.

  I sighed. Crane didn’t understand.

  * * *

  I suppose what I wanted from Crane was permission. I wanted him to tell me that it was okay to drop the case, and to leave my questions unanswered.

  Sometimes, I go to people for things like that, for permissions that deep down, I know that only I can give. It takes a while for me to realize it. That the only person who can allow me to stop is me. That I’m the only one who is responsible for myself. In fact, it really isn’t fair for me to ask someone else to bear that burden.

  Once I realized what I was doing to Crane, I left the bar. I wasn’t too drunk. I’d only had about two beers. So, it wasn’t a big deal for me to drive out to the crime scene. Because that was another thing that Pike had given me. He’d printed out all the crime scene photos, but he’d also printed out a map of the farm, showing me exactly where Tess Carver had been killed. I wanted to see the place. I wanted to match the photos to the scene, to try to walk it out, figure out exactly what happened.

  When I got there, it was twilight, and the dusk hung heavy on the surroundings. Tess had been killed in a clearing in the woods. The trees surrounded it in a rough circle. It wasn’t perfect, but that was part of what made it appealing—it was obvious that it was naturally occurring not man made. And yet it appeared as if it had been made intentionally. Inside the trees, the grass was green and soft. The little area was open to the sky, and I peered up to see the first stars appearing.

  I wasn’t an idiot, and this time, I’d brought a flashlight out with me so that I could see. It wasn’t yet full dark, but I knew from experience how dark it did get out here.

  I got out the pictures, printed on photo paper, full color, and I flipped through them, using the flash light to make sure that I could see them well.

  Tess had been killed right in the middle of the circle, and that was where her body had been found. She’d been spread eagle, limbs yanked out and tied down. And if I looked to the middle of the circle, I could still see the four stakes in the ground
that she’d been tied to.

  I went there, carefully walking over the carpet of grass. This seemed like too nice of a place for a murder scene. It was pastoral and picturesque. Bile rose in my throat just thinking about it. What kind of person defiles a place as natural and beautiful as this with blood and death?

  There was a stain on the grass that I could still see, where Tess’s life blood had poured out of her throat. And there were stains on the grass around, from her other wounds. Those stains were haphazard, as if the blood was spurting out as she struggled.

  That fit, as I remembered. Porter had said that the symbols had been carved onto her body while she was still alive, while she was suffering.

  But that was strange, wasn’t it?

  I dug out the notebook that Brigit had gotten from Natalie, the one that contained notes on the sermons Gunner had given on the ritual. Yep, sure enough, Gunner said that the Ocapotactu would have knocked the victim unconscious before starting any of this, because the sacrifice’s suffering brought the Great Spirit no joy. Only the sacrifice itself was powerful. It was better, in fact, if the sacrificial offering was done willingly.

  So, that meant that whoever had done this, they hadn’t followed the ritual instructions as carefully as they might have. Why, I wasn’t sure. Possibly, they didn’t know the ritual very well. Possibly, they were trying to make the crime look like it was a sacrifice. Maybe they were framing Gunner, just as he claimed. Possibly the murderers had wanted Tess to suffer. Possibly, there was a motive here other than a religious ritual.

  That, I had to admit, fit with Gunner, however. He might very well have been angry with Tess for stealing away his son for all of those years. And, though I’d said he didn’t seem too interested in his children, I couldn’t be sure that was the case. I didn’t know him that well, after all, and I didn’t have enough evidence to be sure that was true. Also, he might be so crazy and power hungry that he was simply angry at Tess for leaving the farm and getting out from under his thumb. If he truly was a cult leader, he likely thought of himself as all powerful, and anything that challenged his power would naturally anger him.

  I knelt down, examining the stained grass without touching it. (I was fairly sure that all the evidence had been gathered from this site, but I wanted to be careful not to contaminate anything, all the same.) A woman had been killed here. It had been messy. It had been bloody. It had been horrific.

  This wasn’t some kind of peaceful ritual, some way of freeing her soul, not like the loony loyalists had said. This was a horrible crime. I thought of Tess Carver struggling for her life here, probably screaming and sobbing. I thought of the awful pain she had been in as she died.

  I stood up. If Gunner Bray was responsible for that pain, he didn’t deserve my help.

  But if Gunner Bray wasn’t responsible, then I needed to make sure that the people who had done it paid the price for their actions. Because Tess hadn’t deserved what happened to her. Only someone truly cruel could have meted out such a nasty murder.

  Gazing at the stakes, at the blood stains, and then looking back at the crime scene photos, I was certain. This wasn’t the work of one person. It was the work of at least two, maybe more. So, even if Gunner was guilty, there was someone else out there.

  That alone was enough to keep me on the case. I wanted everyone involved in this horrendous crime punished. That was what I did, after all. The only good thing I managed to do with my life. I might be screwed up in every other way, but this? This was what I did to make the world a better place.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When I got to the office in the morning, Laura was waiting for me. She was sitting in the waiting room area, across from Brigit’s desk, her legs crossed tightly as she toyed with her hands. She looked nervous.

  “I told her that you weren’t interested in the case anymore,” said Brigit. “You aren’t, are you?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Laura stood up, sucking in a deep breath. “I know what you said the last time you were at the farm, and I know that it’s perfectly reasonable for you to say, and for you to quit. And I know it’s a long shot coming here at all. I know that. But I just can’t give up that easily. You’re the best detective in town, you really are, and we need you.”

  Saying I was the best detective in town wasn’t really saying much, as there wasn’t a bustling private detective business going in Renmawr. I was one of the only detectives in town. Still, it was nice to be complimented, I had to admit. And since I’d decided that I was going to stay on the case, I really should put Laura out of her misery. “Listen, Ms. Hopper—”

  “No, wait,” she said. “Just hear me out.”

  “But you don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of reasons why you don’t want to work for us anymore, but you just have to let me try to convince you. Please, even if your mind’s made up, let me try to talk to you. What does it really hurt you to listen to me?”

  “But all I was going to say is—”

  “He is innocent,” she said. “I know that you think that I’m blind. You think I’m some stupid woman who’s been taken in by a religious cult, and you think that I can’t tell his character. You think that I would do anything for him, believe anything he said, no matter how ludicrous. Well, you’re wrong. You really are. I’m not stupid, and I’m not letting myself be fazed by feelings or beliefs. I happen to be certain that Gunner didn’t do this. I would stake my life on that fact. But I realize that my saying that doesn’t necessarily convince you, and I wouldn’t expect it to. But what I do want to convince you of is how much I believe this, and how willing I am to make sure that you stay on our case.”

  Brigit spoke up. “You didn’t even like the way she was conducting the case. You guys were all bent out of shape about the way she was interviewing people on the farm.”

  “Brigit,” I said, holding up my hand.

  “No,” said Brigit, “you can’t make me shut up. With the way they treated you, you’d think they’d be happy you were off the case.”

  “You’re right,” said Laura. “You’re right. I should never have questioned your methods. If you come back and continue working for us, I swear that no one will make that mistake again. You’ll have free reign to do things however you feel necessary. We won’t stand in your way or criticize you.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, smiling. “That so?” Maybe there was a good reason to let her sweat it out a little bit. If I got some concessions, I didn’t mind in the least.

  Laura nodded eagerly. “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Oh please,” said Brigit. “You can’t actually be considering this, can you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “After all, it does seem to me that it was a lot of trouble working on that case…”

  “Was it the money?” said Laura, looking desperate. “We’ll pay you more.”

  “How much more?” I said.

  “However much you want,” she said. “We’ve got the money to do it, and it’s worth it. We can pay you… oh, double your regular rate.”

  “Double, huh?” I grinned. “Well, that’s quite an offer.”

  “It is?” Laura hadn’t been expecting that.

  “I suppose I might mull that over a bit.”

  Brigit groaned.

  “Really?” Laura was beside herself with happiness.

  “Really,” I said. “Have my assistant draw up a new contract with the increase in rates. You sign it, I’ll sign it, and then I’ll get back to work on the case.”

  “Just like that?” said Laura.

  Brigit rolled her eyes. “Ms. Hopper, she’d already decided she was going to go back on the case.”

  “No, I hadn’t,” I said. “I was completely swayed by the money.” I went back to my office, humming to myself.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, an email arrived in my inbox. It was one of those forwarded ones from the dirty cops’ email addresses. It w
as in code, but it was easy enough to crack it and figure out where it was referencing to meet. They’d be meeting up that night at eight o’clock, behind Shamrock’s bar.

  Oh, did I know that bar well. When I’d been working the case that turned out to be Ralph, I’d followed some leads that had taken me to O’Shaunessys, and they owned that bar. I’d been trapped there, and had to run and hide to get out. But the email specified behind Shamrock’s, so I was hoping that meant that I didn’t have to go inside again.

  Generally speaking, I’d still be working at that time anyway, so it was perfect, not an inconvenience at all. I’d swing past the bar on my way home, photograph the exchange, send it to Pike, and he’d get them arrested. The end.

  The only issue was that Brigit was doing this stupid thing where she kept trying to find ways to go along with me on every single job. I would have to leave a little early to make it to Shamrock’s on time, and she’d want to know where I was going. I didn’t want to get her mixed up in this.

  So, I made up some bogus story about how tired I was feeling, and I said we should knock off early.

  At first, she was suspicious, because she thought we should be maximizing our hours now that we were getting double the rate. But I told her that was exactly why we should knock off early. Why bother when we’d already made our money for the day?

  She bought it, and we both left the office around 6:30. Then I had an hour and a half to kill until the drop. I waited until Brigit was gone, and then sneaked back into the office to file and tidy. I liked to keep my office organized. My house wasn’t so pristine, but I liked my work space to be nice.

  I got to the parking lot behind Shamrock’s about fifteen minutes before eight. I spent that time setting up my camera. I could have just used my phone, but I wanted better pictures than my phone could take. As a private detective, sometimes my camera was the only tool I needed. I took photos, showed them to jealous wives, and dissolved marriages. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. Anyway, I had a nice camera. Something that could zoom in from far away and get tiny details. This way, no matter where they decided to do the exchange, I’d be able to get detailed evidence.