A Carol for Kent

Chapter 2

Tuesday, April 17th

CAROL Mabry stared down at the beautiful corpse carefully arranged on the floor of apartment 3A. The dead woman wore a gray silk pantsuit and pink silk blouse. Her hair was perfectly coifed into a French twist, and her makeup looked like it had been applied professionally. Pink beads adorned her neck, hanging loosely against her breasts. Clip-on pink ball earrings clung to each ear.

She lay spread eagle on the ground, her eyes a blank stare in the direction of the ceiling. Her limbs had been arranged in near perfect symmetry as if she were caught in the very act of making a snow angel. Some sort of wire around her neck had cut into her skin, making it look like she had on a red necklace.

At her head, at each of her hands, and at her feet, fat red candles burned, forming flickering lights at the points of the pentagram of her body. The crimson-colored wax had run down the candles and pooled into the beige carpet.

Horrible, Carol thought.

She hated senseless death. After her years as an Assistant Commonwealth Attorney for Richmond, Virginia, she kept expecting to become immune to it, but so far, every time was just as horrible as the last.

Pushing aside those personal thoughts, needing to run on logic and not emotion right now, Carol knelt near the head of the body and inspected the wire without touching it. She recognized the marked tip on one end.

Detective Mitchell “Mitch” Carpenter knelt beside her and looked on, rubbing his chin with his large hand. His father had been American, but he’d inherited all of his features from his Italian mother. He was in his mid-forties and about her height. His face showed the lines of strain that came from being a homicide detective in one of the largest cities in the state.

He wore a cheap suit today, and she could smell the lingering odor of cigarette smoke mixed in with the scent of Old Spice clinging to the polyester blend.

“Darla Cody,” he said by way of introduction. “Twenty-five, CPA at the Grayson firm. Single, straight.”

“Doesn’t look like she fought at all, does it?”

“No. She looks almost relaxed.” He used the tip of his pen to touch the tip of the wire on her neck. “What do you think?” he asked.

“Violin string.” She gestured to the marker. “G.”

“G?”

“Yes. See?” She brought her finger closer. “I can guess at the brand, but that’s probably unimportant. This is definitely violin string.”

“So, our victim was strangled with a G-string? Is that supposed to be funny?” Even years of hardening his heart to the things he saw every day could not disguise all of the disgust in his voice.

Carol raised her eyebrows. “Check her underwear?”

Mitch shook his head. “Way, way outside of my lane. I’ll wait on the medical examiner for the lingerie report.”

“Could have swapped for a trophy. Check her underwear drawer?”

Mitch just shook his head. “Could just be nothing. Could just be a rather interesting choice of weapon.”

“Indeed.” Carol stood and looked down at the body. “What’s with the candles?”

“Cult?”

“Perhaps.” She checked her watch. “Who found her?”

Mitch gestured with his chin to the blonde woman standing next to two uniformed officers. “Friend from work. She said they were out last night, and that this one left with a guy named Rob. She didn’t show up for work, so at lunch, she came over here to make sure she was okay.”

“Anything else on this Rob?”

“Nada.” He stepped back as the crime scene unit arrived. “I’m canvassing now. We have people in this apartment and at the bar. We’ll pull security footage, too.”

“I saw the cameras coming in here. Hopefully, we have something.” She looked back down at the body. “Something’s not right here.”

“You mean other than the strangled dead girl?”

“Yeah,” she said absently, staring at the gray jacket and pink blouse. “Something.”

“Carol, this girl could be your sister,” Mitch said in his careless and almost callous way.

Carol tilted her head and looked at the girl again. They had the same shade of auburn hair, and both were tall and thin, but there weren’t too many other features they shared. Carol’s eyes were tawny colored, and this girl’s eyes were green.

Unfazed at Mitch’s manner, she shook her head. “Not if you took her out of her suit.” She pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket. “There’s something here we’re supposed to see. I think the killer is telling us something. I just can’t get it right now.” She checked the incoming text and put her phone back into her pocket. “I have to run.”

“I’ll send over witness interviews as soon as I have them.”

“And the photos. I want to try to see what I’m not seeing right now.”

“You got it.”

BECAUSE she was already out and about, Carol stopped at her favorite coffee shop on her way back to her office. The drive-through line looked really long, so she parked in the tiny parking lot and dashed inside.

She nearly groaned out loud when she saw Jack Gordon sitting in one of the leather chairs by the gas fireplace. The bell on the door had jingled when she entered, and he glanced her way over the screen of his laptop. As soon as he recognized her, he set the machine aside and stood with a smile.

Carol had met Jack here three weeks ago. He’d just relocated to the Richmond area from Alexandria. He looked incredibly fit at about two-hundred-twenty-pounds of solid muscle. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he was both handsome and very charming. Carol agreed to meet him for lunch the next day. She thoroughly enjoyed herself right up to the moment she found out he was a detective about to start work in Richmond. Unfortunately, she had a personal rule about dating lawyers or law enforcement.

She thought he’d understand, but he hadn’t taken it well. He’d crushed a cup of coffee in his hand, swearing out loud when the hot liquid burned him. His angry reaction put her off of him completely. The next time she’d seen him, he’d acted utterly charming and once more perfectly poised and polite. She couldn’t forget how quickly he’d gotten violently angry. Even if his looks and charm had tempted her to compromise on her personal rule, nothing would convince her to do so after that display.

“Hello, Jack,” she greeted coolly.

“Carol.” He approached but didn’t hold his hand out or try to touch her. “I’ve missed seeing you here in the mornings.”

“It’s been really busy at work. I’m lucky if I have time to hit the drive-through.” She turned her attention to the barista behind the counter. “Café au lait, please. Whole milk.”

When Jack spoke again, he was a little too close for her comfort level. “Look Carol. We got off on the wrong foot. You’re an Army brat. You know how it is when you move to a new town. I could really use a friend. I was hoping we could go out again,” he gently conveyed.

Carol turned her head to look at him, but not her body. “I already told you, Jack. No lawyers. No cops. I’m afraid I really can’t make an exception. It interferes with my job.”

“And what’s your job?”

She smiled. “If our paths ever cross, then you’ll know.” The barista set her coffee in front of her and collected her cash. Carol tossed the change into the tip jar, picked up the cardboard cup, and turned to leave. “Hopefully, we won’t ever have to meet on the job. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

As she turned away, she saw two things. In her peripheral vision, she saw Jack Gordon’s entire body tense up and his jaw clench, and she knew at that moment that her instincts were spot on. Simultaneously, she saw her friend and fellow attorney, Rhonda Regalman, come in through the front door. Rhonda spotted Carol standing next to Jack Gordon and momentarily looked surprised, nearly shocked to see her there. Then, in the blink of an eye, the shocked look vanished, and she grinned a hello. “Hi, Carol! Do you want to have a cup of coffee with me?”

Relieved to have a handy excuse to end the conversation, Carol waved a greeting to Rhonda and hastened over to where the other attorney stood. Still bristling over the confrontation with Jack, she gave Rhonda a curt shake of her head. “I can’t stay for coffee. Sorry. Gotta’ go. But thank you. I’ll see you later on.”

Keeping her back toward Jack, she walked past Rhonda and out the door back to her car.

YOU nearly missed her solo. It’s up next,” Harriet Kent whispered as Carol slid into the auditorium seat next to her.

“I know. How’s she doing so far?” Carol whispered back.

Harriet smiled at the stage. “She’s the best one up there.”

They watched the stage full of seven and eight-year-olds do their best to follow the steps they’d been taught, while parents sat in the audience dreaming of prima ballerinas, occasionally wiping at tears of pride or joy. Carol laughed when she caught herself thinking the same thoughts and wiping the same tears, and she clapped just as enthusiastically as the rest of the parents and grandparents when it was over, and the little bumblebees gave their bows.

At the reception immediately following, she picked up her daughter, Lisa, and gave her a smacking kiss on lips that proudly bore a red punch mustache. “You are getting better every time I see you,” she told her.

“I missed a step toward the end,” Lisa said, sadness pushing through the pride.

“I didn’t even notice,” Carol said, then set her down and straightened the bumblebee wing on her outfit. “Did you have a good time up there?”

Lisa shrugged. “It’s a little scary, but fun at the same time.” She looked around. “Where’s grandpa?”

Carol eyed Harriet, Lisa’s grandmother. “He’s not feeling too well this evening, Lisa. He decided to lie down and rest while I came here,” she said.

Carol felt a twinge of nervousness. Robert Kent had been staying home more and more often lately. She waited until Lisa ran to a group of friends before speaking to Harriet about it. “Has he been to the doctor yet?” she asked.

Harriet pursed her lips and shook her head. “I can’t get that man to admit anything is wrong with him. Carol, I’m about near my wit’s end. Do you think your friend, Dr. Suarez, would come out to the house and talk to him?”

“I’m sure he would, Harriet, but I don’t see what good it would do. He’s not going to let Henry examine him, and without an examination, he wouldn’t be able to tell what’s wrong with him.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” the older woman said. She looked at her watch. “I’m going to go tell Lisa good-bye, then go on home.” She looked around and said almost absently, “What time will the birthday party start Saturday?”

“Four. We’ll be out around three.”

“Why don’t you just let Lisa spend the night Friday? We can make it a special birthday treat,” Harriet suggested.

Carol had seen that coming. Harriet had offered nearly every weekend for about a year now, but so far Carol only let Lisa sleep over there when her work kept her overnight.

“We have plans for just the two of us Friday night, Harriet. But we’ll see you about three,” Carol said with a forced smile.

Harriet frowned, then walked off to find Lisa. Carol sighed at the woman’s back. When Lisa was a baby and Carol struggled just to get through law school, working nearly full time and still trying to be a mommy, the Kents had offered to take Lisa full time and let Carol visit her whenever she was free. The notion had appalled her, and she had refused, almost considering relocating to a school farther away from them.

A year later, the child support checks slowly got bigger until she didn’t have to work anymore, but the offer had continued to bother Carol considerably. Perhaps if they had never offered that, she would feel more comfortable letting Lisa go out to their ranch and spend more nights. As it was, she didn’t completely trust their motives. They were good grandparents and truly loved Lisa, their only grandchild, but their opinion of Carol had room for improvement.

Carol watched the little bumblebees weave their way through the crowd of fans while she chuckled to herself. If their opinion of her was low, it was her own fault. She showed up in their town not only five months pregnant with their son’s child, but asking for their assistance to help her find him. She remembered standing on their doorstep and explaining that she didn’t even know how to start looking for him.

Her heart wept a little, as it always did when she thought of him, and she frowned at the memory. They’d contacted him for her, but he told them he wanted nothing to do with Carol or the baby she carried.

In all fairness, he had supported them financially, but in the time, she carried her and the nearly eight years since Lisa had been born, he had never once called nor written, and Lisa had never met him. Lately, Carol’s daughter had started expressing curiosity about her father.

Carol decided that she would tell her one day. For now, she and the Kents both agreed that it was best she not be told just yet. They removed pictures of him from the house, and Lisa had yet to ask to see one. Once she did, she would immediately know who he was.

She shrugged off her dark mood, deciding it was probably a reaction to the afternoon she’d endured, and went in search of her little bumblebee. They were going out for dinner to celebrate the recital with Lisa’s best friend and her parents. Carol always enjoyed the time spent with the Bradfords and looked forward to shedding the tragedy of the day and the stress of Harriet Kent with tortilla chips dunked in spicy salsa and cheese enchiladas at their favorite Mexican restaurant.