A Very Catty Murder Page 3

  What kind of history did Frank and this woman have? Did others here know about that history?

  "Oh, Frank. Were you talking about me?" Sheba smirked with one side of her mouth, her eyebrow twitching mischievously.

  The caused Sonja to pause. The woman was talking as if she'd known Frank would be here. Had she planned this all along? Could it be that she was here in town specifically to see him?

  She couldn't help but wonder what other people in town thought about this long-ended relationship. Whatever it was, Sonja got a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  "Sheba, what are you doing here?" Frank asked the same question that was on Sonja's mind.

  She walked with one foot in front of the other, sauntering slowly down the driveway so her hips swayed in the form-fitting skirt she wore. Only now was Sonja noticing the woman's legs and the hot red high heels.

  What in the world was going on?

  "I was in the area, Frank, dear. I decided it was time for a visit."

  Frank's slack-jawed shock tensed up into an unamused expression, his eyebrows burrowing down closer to his eyes. "You just happened to be in the area?" he asked.

  "That's right. I thought it would be good to catch up, for old time's sake, you know?" As she spoke, she gave her ex-boyfriend a slow and uncomfortable up-down.

  Sonja simply didn't understand it.

  It was as if something in the woman had changed within a matter of seconds, a natural seductiveness rising to the surface. Had the redness of her lips and nails darkened in color, or was it just Sonja's imagination?

  "So, how about it? Have coffee with me this morning?" she requested, waltzing up to him and standing so close that Sonja felt her cheeks burn with anger.

  Frank stood dumbfounded for a few seconds as if the woman had some sort of seductive power that had silenced him into a stupor.

  "I-I should get back to the bar and wait for the deputy," Charles stumbled over his words, clearly having grown uncomfortable watching the scene play out, and turned to leave. This departure seemed to allow Frank to regather his thoughts.

  Clearing his throat and finally closing his mouth, he vehemently shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Sheba. I'm a bit busy today."

  Sheba turned and looked at all the stuff laid out across the driveway. "Having a little garage sale, I see."

  "Not to mention, I already had my morning cup of joe," he said, giving another easy excuse.

  "Don't try and fool me, Frank. I know you drink your coffee like it's was water." Walking over next to Sonja, Sheba bent low--as if trying to show off her figure--and opened the box of toy miniatures. "Oh, Frank, dear. Getting rid of all your little soldier men? But you worked so hard on them." Reaching in, she picked one of them up.

  "T-That's not for sale," Frank blurted out, much to Sonja's surprise.

  What had changed his mind?

  "This is a garage sale, isn't it?" she asked.

  Frank pointed at her. "Those were put out on the driveway by mistake."

  "But I helped you carry them," Sonja's father chimed in.

  "A mistake, like I said."

  Setting the figure back in the box and closing it, Sheba straightened up. "What a shame. I would have loved to keep a memory or two."

  Frank folded his arms in defiance to the woman's presence. "What are you doing here?" he demanded again, more firmly this time.

  "I already told you. I was in the area."

  "And why exactly did you decide to show up at my house?" he shot back, not trusting the woman.

  Sheba hesitated, looking around at the others present and assessing them. Finally, she turned back to Frank with that same crooked smile. "Maybe to see if the old spark was still there."

  At this comment, Sonja practically fell over on the sidewalk. How dare this woman just march in here thinking she could steal Frank away after away after he was already married?

  Seemingly unable to keep her legs from propelling her forward, she practically pushed the woman aside, so she could stand between her husband and the huntress. "Clearly, you didn't get the memo," Sonja snipped a little more rudely than she'd intended.

  The woman's eyebrows both shot up, clearly shocked by the rapid intrusion. "And who is this?" Sheba asked Frank, basically ignoring Sonja's presence. "Your latest girlfriend? She's a bit young, isn't she?"

  Sonja's jaw dropped, and her fists clenched up so hard she felt her fingernails digging into her palms. Who did this woman think she was?

  It was true, Frank was a few years older than Sonja, but when you were both adults, what did it matter? She was almost thirty.

  Sonja gnashed her teeth together, holding back the urge to lash out at the woman.

  Thankfully, Frank came to the rescue, putting his arm around her. "Sheba, this is my wife. Sonja Reed."

  The woman's face twitched for a moment in a hint of anger at being defeated, but she didn't let any sense of surprise, shock, or disappointment show. "I see. Well, I guess I may have overstepped my bounds."

  "May have?" Sonja's mother whispered under her breath, but still loud enough to be heard. Sonja knew she was probably struggling to hold her tongue the whole time.

  "I know when I'm not wanted." Walking past them, she paused. Standing up on her tippy toes, she kissed Frank on the cheek--leaving a red lipstick mark there.

  Sonja felt her whole body tightening up like a spring.

  "See you around, dear." Continuing her sensual saunter, the woman walked off down the road.

  Chapter 5

  "What was that all about?" Sonja asked once Sheba was clearly out of sight of the house.

  Frank shrugged, walking over to his box of toys and squatting down next to it. "I honestly have no idea. Why would she show up after all this time?"

  "Unbelievable is what it is. Unbelievable and presumptuous," Sonja's mother added her own thoughts that had been bubbling beneath the surface. She stood up from her chair with a huff. "To think, I didn't even recognize her."

  "You knew her, Mom?" Sonja asked.

  "She did look pretty different, it's true. But the years will do that to a person," Frank added before Sonja's mother spoke.

  "I mean, in all that makeup and that little dress, it's no wonder she passed under my radar at first," her mom noted.

  "She certainly wasn't the Sheba I knew and remembered," Frank sighed, staring at his toys in the box as if he were staring at a past life, a time he cherished and regretted all at once.

  Sonja put her hands on her hips and looked around at her mom and her husband. "Okay, why do I get the feeling there is a whole lot more to this story?"

  "Because there is," her mother chimed in.

  "It's not worth telling," Frank interrupted, clearly not wanting to dig up old wounds.

  "Certainly, it is," her mother retorted adamantly. "It's good for couples to be completely open about everything, especially past relationships."

  Why didn't Sonja like the sound of that? "It's okay, really. I don't need to know," she lied, trying to hold back her burning curiosity to help her husband feel more at ease.

  Frank stood up. "No, your mother is right. I should just be honest."

  Sonja looked up at Frank, her face grim with anticipation.

  "It was the first year you moved to Colorado, is that right?" her mother started the story for him when he didn't leap right into the painful yarn.

  "Mom," Sonja scolded her.

  "I was volunteering as to help with the cataloging at the station, dear. Remember?"

  Sonja did remember. That's how her mother had become such good friends with Marie, the police secretary. Back then, Frank hadn't been on Sonja's radar as a romantic prospect. He was just another friendly officer at the station.

  "That's right," Frank said, wringing his hands and pacing. "Sheba and I met after I moved to Colorado for police academy. I dated a few girls on and off back then, but Sheba was one of my more serious prospects." He shrugged timidly. "We both thought it would be great to become small town law
enforcement together. When we finished, we started looking for jobs. I got a position as a deputy here in Haunted Falls and she didn't."

  Sonja could hardly believe it. One of his old girlfriends had been in police academy with him. They had a different kind of connection, a love of police work. Sonja couldn't relate to it.

  "She lived here in town looking for other jobs while I worked."

  "You've got to be kidding me? How come I never knew about this?" Sonja asked, unable to help herself.

  "Keep in mind, hon, that you were in your senior year of high-school when all this was happening," her mother noted. "You were busy with school work, college applications, creative writing club."

  "I get it," she interrupted.

  "It wouldn't be something on your radar."

  Sonja knew her mother was right. She was so focused on getting out of Haunted Falls that little else mattered at the time.

  "That's true. And I became acting Sheriff around that time, as well."

  "Wow," Sonja said, more acutely feeling their age difference. Frank had already made a career for himself before she'd even moved out of her childhood home.

  "Anyway, after a while, she started to get antsy about not being able to work. She started applying for jobs in other places outside of Haunted Falls and got picked up by a bigger city police force."

  "So, she just moved away and that was the end of it?" Sonja asked.

  "Sort of, but no. We promised to keep our relationship long distance until we could both find jobs in the same place." His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "But, after a few weeks, she stopped returning my e-mails and phone calls. She just sort of cut me off without much of an explanation."

  "Wow, that's so sad," Sonja said.

  "It was. Very sad," her mother said. "He was pretty cut off and resigned, even while at work at the station."

  "I buried myself in my favorite hobby at the time to forget about her." He motioned to the box. "Model painting."

  Sonja looked over at the box. That partially explained why he'd been reluctant to discuss them and probably wanted to get rid of them.

  "Then, I finally decided enough was enough. I needed to stop dwelling on the past and look to the future. I put all my miniatures away from good, put aside any childish notions, ideas, or hobbies, and threw myself completely into police work."

  Sonja had no idea about bits of her husband's past. He'd lived a full section of adulthood before she came along, and they started dating.

  Still, she was grateful that as they grew older, the difference in age had less and less effect on a relationship. In fact, it wasn't abnormal for a married couple to be a few years apart. She tried to console herself with those thoughts.

  "Anyway," Frank said, standing up. "That's the story. Now, I'm ready to part with those figures forever."

  "I thought you said it was a mistake we put them out?" Sonja's father said.

  "No, I just didn't want Sheba buying them." He shrugged. "Hopefully she got the hint and left town. I don't really want to see her again."

  *

  Thankfully, the rest of the day went on without a hitch. Sonja quickly pushed Sheba out of her mind as locals and tourists alike followed the signs to the garage sale. It was amazing how many people turned out in the hot summer sun, all buying up stuff and thinning out Frank's lifelong collection of junk.

  Still, no one touched the figures or showed any interest in them.

  When the sun began to set, they packed everything away for the night, so it would be easy to pull back out in the morning and then went and got burgers and saw a summer blockbuster action flick in the local movie theater to wind down. Sonja enjoyed it, but it wasn't her favorite kind of film.

  Frank was the action guy.

  The next morning, she and Frank drove to the house together instead of separately. Sonja made their breakfast at the cottage beforehand but still made sure to pack coffees for her parents. Pulling up on the street, they saw that Jameson's car was already gone.

  "It's a Sunday. You don't think he has more meetings today, do you?" Sonja asked.

  "Probably not. He likely just went out to golf or something."

  Getting out of the car, they walked up to the garage. Frank grabbed the handle on the door and pushed it up, revealing the stuff they'd packed away the night before--as well as something else they hadn't packed away.

  "Oh, my goodness," Sonja practically shrieked. Lying face down on the concrete floor of the garage space was a woman. The uncomfortably familiar high heels and tight skirt instantly stood out to Sonja, telling her who it was that had so, unfortunately, found herself on the floor.

  It was Sheba.

  Frank dashed quickly into the garage and knelt next to the woman to check on her.

  "I better call an ambulance," Sonja said, setting the caddy of coffees down on the driveway so she could dig her phone out of her purse.

  "No, don't bother," Frank stopped her. "It's too late. She's dead."

  Chapter 6

  Despite the shock of his ex-girlfriend's body being inside the garage, Frank worked as efficiently as ever to get the scene cordoned off and secured. After the EMTs and the local coroner checked the body, the cops themselves got to work.

  "Looks like she ate something she shouldn't have. A severe allergic reaction, I'd say," Sonja barely overheard the coroner say.

  "Are you sure about that?" Frank had muttered his question.

  Frank stepped aside and supervised while his deputies did an initial walkthrough, taking mental notes and snapping pictures of the body and scene at hand.

  He seemed a little more hands off than usual, and Sonja wondered if it was because he didn't want to let his own experience with the victim cloud his judgments.

  All the while, Sonja stood leaning against the car on the street and watched as all the action transpired. The instant they'd found the body, Frank went into police mode and ordered Sonja to step back. She knew it wasn't her role, or right, to involve herself--but, how couldn't she? This was her husband's old home and his ex-girlfriend now lay dead on the concrete with a sheet to hide the body from public view.

  As she stood there watching, she only passively noticed the same black cat jump up on the hood of the car as if it too were watching the scene. Despite her interest in what was happening inside the house, Sonja took the opportunity to turn toward the cat to check its collar.

  "Hello, sweetie. Where do you belong?" she whispered, careful not to spook it or scare it away.

  Surprisingly, unlike many street cats, this one didn't even flinch at the sudden attention. Most cats, even domesticated ones, turned and ran the other direction when Sonja tried to approach.

  This one was stoic in its stance, and its eyes looked at Sonja without a hint of fear or caution.

  It was an almost familiar and friendly glance.

  "You're pretty tame, aren't you?" she spoke to it in a hushed tone, bending close to try and see the collar tag that was clearly dangling from its neck. "Let's see what your name is." With gentle hands, she reached out and touched the circular tag.

  Much to her surprise, there wasn't heads or tails of a name on it. Instead, it appeared to be just a symbol or image of brambles or vines that intersected with one another. "Strange," she whispered.

  The cat moved, jumping down off the car and at Sonja's feet, rubbing against her jeans.

  "Oh, do you want attention?" she asked, bending over and grasping the cat around the waist.

  Even at this, the cat did nothing to make an escape and willingly allowed itself to cuddle into Sonja's arms while she went back to watching the crime scene from afar.

  It was about fifteen minutes later, as she anxiously waited to hear more news about what exactly had happened, that three more cop cars pulled onto the street and parked. They were a sleek sporty design with white doors and a thick black streak across the top. The headlights had a pinched look as if the car's each had a serious expression built into the make.

  The large glisteni
ng badge on the door told her that these were state troopers.

  The doors opened and men and women in uniform all filled out, most carrying supplies such as evidence bags, cameras, and more. It was all far more up to snuff and professional than the usual round of investigative abilities by the local police. It wasn't to say that Frank and his men weren't as well put together as other police forces. They were some of the best Sonja knew.

  However, small town forces never had the kind of immediate resources that the city or state police possessed.

  Frank stopped to talk to one of them, presumably the man in charge. After a few words between them, Sonja could just overhear the man say, "Thank you, Sheriff. We'll take it from here."

  Giving his nod of approval, Frank walked over and stood next to Sonja.

  "You called in the state police?" she whispered to him, watching as the crew of strange officers and detectives made their way around the crime scene, searching for clues of their own.

  "Yes, I did," he confirmed the information all while eyeballing the strange black animal in his wife's arms. "A new friend of yours?"

  "You could say that. I was hoping to find out who she belonged to and take her home, but her tags don't have any actual information on them--just some weird symbol."

  Frank leaned in and looked at the tags.

  Sonja was doubly surprised, with how fast Frank moved in, that the cat didn't take a swat at him. It just sat pleasantly and let him have a look. "Strange. Maybe it's like the logo for a company or something."

  "Who knows?" Sonja said with a shrug. "So, they're going to help in the investigation?" she asked, turning the conversation back to a more pressing topic.

  He shook his head. "No, they're taking over," he clarified, leaning on the side of the car next to her and folding his arms.

  "Taking over? What for?"

  "I didn't see any other option here."

  "What do you mean?" she asked, still not clear as to why he needed to completely abandon the case out of the gate.

  Putting his arm around her, he explained. "I'm too close to this case to work on it, so I preemptively removed myself from it."