Visions of Death Read online

  “I know how difficult this is for you,” he replied softly.

  She nodded. “I’ve never had someone I care about murdered. It’s just too awful to even think about.”

  “That’s why I need your help in finding who did this to her.” She nodded again. “You mentioned you had a boyfriend?”

  “Tim Rice. We’ve been going out for almost a year now. He works maintenance at the high school.”

  Ellis thought back to the young men he’d interviewed that day and an image came to mind of a tall, skinny kid with light brown hair, hazel eyes and an easygoing demeanor.

  “What did you and Tim do after you left the bonfire?”

  “He drove me home, then went home himself.”

  “What time did you get in?”

  “Around 11:30ish or so, I think. I wasn’t looking at the clock.”

  “And you’re sure Tim went right home?”

  She met his eye. “I have no reason to doubt him. He texted me that he got home like he always does. He said good-night and that was it.” She dug into her pocket, withdrew her cellphone and flipped through the messages until she found the one she was looking for. She showed it to Ellis who saw that the message had been sent at 11:45 pm the night Mallory disappeared.

  Unfortunately it didn’t show where the message had been sent from. It could have been sent from Tim’s home. Or it could have been sent from his truck as he doubled back to pick up Mallory.

  He put that aside and instead asked DeeDee, “Was Mallory dating anyone?”

  DeeDee suddenly burst into giggles, the tears abruptly gone. Ellis wondered just who the drama queen was in the women’s friendship. His money was on DeeDee.

  “Mal? She’d never give any of these guys the time of day. None of them were good enough for her.”

  “Weren’t there rumors that she was gay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That was so stupid. Believe me, Mal was not gay. She just wanted a guy who could talk about more than the weather, or how big the catch for the day was.”

  “Did she ever date any mainlanders?”

  “A few times. It lasted about as long as their vacation did. Then they went home and Mal went back to daydreaming about ‘the one’. There was a guy last summer though. He was here for a month with his family and he was all she could talk about.”

  “Did anything happen between the two of them?”

  “Do you mean did they sleep together?” He nodded. She shrugged. “She didn’t come right out and say so, but I kinda figured they did. Whenever she wasn’t at the dress shop, she was with him. I know she was hoping they’d continue the relationship once he went back home.”

  “Did they?”

  “Heck no. It was actually sort of interesting to see the tables reversed, you know. Here was a guy who thought he was too good for Mal.” As if she’d realized what she’d just said, she hurriedly added, “Don’t get me wrong. It broke my heart to see her so hurt. I mean, she really liked this guy. But even I could tell it was never going to happen. Rich guys from Virginia don’t marry fishermen’s daughters from Maine, no matter how pretty they are. When he left at the end of August, he never asked for her number. I know she tried to friend him on Facebook, but as far as I know, he didn’t respond. Hey, maybe he finally did accept, which explains why she was so upbeat at the bonfire.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “It was one of those real rich Wasp-y types of names. Bradley or Francis.” She immediately snapped her fingers. “I remember now. It was Bradford Monroe the Third. I couldn’t get over how pretentious he was, but Mal just lapped it up.”

  He'd informed the Angletons of Mallory’s pregnancy, not only because they had a right to know, but also in order to use the information during an interview. Listening to DeeDee prattle on about what close friends she and Mallory were, he decided to test the theory and observe her reaction.

  “Do you know who the father of Mallory’s baby was?”

  He instantly saw the color drain from her face as her mouth dropped in shock. “Wha--?” she sputtered.

  “Mallory was almost three months’ pregnant.”

  “No way!” DeeDee exclaimed. “She would have told me!”

  “Did she?”

  “Of course she didn’t. This is the first I’m hearing about it.”

  “Do you have any idea who the father could be?”

  “Holy shit! I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

  “DeeDee, I need you to focus. Do you have any idea who could have fathered the baby?”

  She shook her head back and forth in stunned silence. “I have no friggin’ clue.” This time what looked like authentic tears welled up in her eyes. “No wonder she was so quiet these past few weeks. She must have been totally bitched out.”

  “Yet you observed that she was happy the night of the bonfire.”

  “Yeah, she was.”

  “Any idea why she could have been happy?”

  “Maybe she’d decided to get rid of it.”

  The cold manner in which DeeDee spoke took Ellis aback. Not aware of his reaction, she continued. “Mal was not maternal in any way, shape or form. She didn’t even like puppies, much less babies.”

  “What would you do if you suddenly found yourself pregnant?” he found himself needing to ask.

  “I’d keep it, of course. I love kids. In fact, I’m hoping Tim and I will have lots and lots of kids. After we get married, of course.”

  Pulling the interview back on track, Ellis asked, “Did Mallory have a temper?”

  She raised her black rimmed eyes and squinted at him. “Huh?”

  “You know, did she shred people behind their backs? Was she mean to others?”

  He saw an emotion he couldn’t quite define flash in her eyes before it was replaced with anger. “That’s an awful question. She didn’t deserve to die. And it’s positively disgusting that whoever killed her also killed her poor, innocent baby.” She took a shuddering breath. “I can’t imagine her not being around anymore. It’s just so…so…”

  She lowered her head and began to cry into the tissue. Ellis watched her for a moment, not sure if she was crying over Mallory or the unborn baby. Nor was he unaware that she’d managed to sidestep his question. He withdrew a business card and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. “If you think of anything at all, call me.” She nodded through her sobs. “I’ll get your parents.”

  Leaving her, he went to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. He found the two seated at an oblong table in the large, airy room.

  “What was your opinion of Mallory Angleton?” Ellis asked the couple.

  He took note when Frank and Aggie glanced at each other. It took Frank a few moments to respond, as if he were trying to find the right words to answer a simple question.

  “She was always polite whenever she came over.”

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?”

  Once again Frank hesitated. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t. Sorry, deputy.”

  “What about you, Mrs. Reid? What did you think of Mallory?”

  “Please, call us Aggie and Frank. We’re not formal around here.” She too hesitated for a long moment before answering. “She was a beautiful girl. So well dressed. I was amazed at what she could do with just a few pieces of clothing.”

  “What about Mallory herself? Did she like to gossip? Was she arrogant? Sweet?”

  Aggie looked decidedly uncomfortable. “What girls don’t like to gossip?” She laughed nervously.

  “I’ve gotten the impression Mallory thought she was better than everyone else.”

  “She was confident. Some people misinterpret that.”

  “I left my business card on the coffee table. If either of you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call me. You may want to go to DeeDee. She began to cry near the end of the interview. She’s very upset over the loss of her best friend.”

  Yet again, he observed a strange look pass b
etween the two before they got up and hurried from the room.

  Sitting in his SUV a few minutes later, Ellis reviewed not so much the conversation, but the demeanor of the three. Once more, he was confronted with the reality of the natural reticence of the islanders. Yet there was something else going on here that went beyond mere discretion. Was it the desire to not speak ill of the dead?

  Or was there an element in Mallory’s personality that no one wanted to touch? A slight feeling of guilt because they were relieved her darkness was no longer walking among them?

  As he drove down the road to his last interview, he once again saw the image of Mallory’s sewn mouth and eyes. Why do that to her? What kind of message was the killer trying to send?

  If nothing else, his interviews that day demonstrated that Mallory Angleton was not this one-dimensional woman who oozed sweetness and light. There were facets to her that no one wanted to talk about. Facets that may have been responsible for, not only her death, but for what was done to her face.

  Although it was close to five o’clock, he nevertheless picked up his cell and dialed Chloe Reynolds at the Portland Police Headquarters.

  Chloe was a junior police officer who’d provided valuable assistance to Ellis in his last case. She was a slim woman of medium height with ash blonde hair cut in a severe style. She was smart, ambitious and the perfect person to turn to for help, especially when it came to conducting any kind of research on the internet. Just as he expected, she picked up on the first ring.

  “Officer Reynolds,” she said in her clipped, straight-forward voice.

  “Chloe, this is Ellis Martin. I know it’s late, but I was hoping I could convince you to look some information up on the internet for me.”

  There was a pause and he thought she would refuse. Instead, she said, “I heard what happened. It sounds as if it’s going to be as interesting as the last investigation we worked on together, in which case you can count me in. What do you need?”

  “Anything on Mallory Angleton’s social media accounts. I know she was at least on Facebook. See if you can find out if there were any friend requests made by or to the victim within the last few days. I’m especially interested if you come across anything regarding Bradford Monroe the Third from Virginia. They had a fling last August. She also wrote some sort of fashion blog. In addition, I’ll need you to see what you can dig up on a Dara Clemons.”

  “Got it.”

  She hung up and he knew she’d work through the night to get him exactly what he needed.

  Dara was curled up on the couch reading a fantasy novel on her eReader when an image of Deputy Ellis Martin abruptly popped into her head. She knew in that moment he was on his way to see her. Thankfully, she’d dusted and vacuumed that day, so the place was in decent shape.

  She felt a slight shiver run through her belly as she thought of the six-foot-tall police officer with the grey eyes and black hair streaked with white. She guessed he was in his early forties – a little too old for her – but there was something about him that caught and kept her attention. He was soft spoken, yet she had no doubt he could be tough when he needed to be. She’d done a little digging since speaking to him a few days before and discovered there was no wife or kids. She wasn’t surprised. His energy was that of a loner – a man who kept his secrets close to his chest.

  She still wasn’t sure it had been wise to tell him about her dream. Especially now that it had actually come true. She prayed he didn’t think she was Mallory’s killer, though it would make sense if he did.

  Who had dreams that actually came true?

  Of course she hadn’t told him the entire dream. There was no way she was going to describe the black thing with the red eyes that still haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. If he didn’t think she was nuts before, that would clinch it.

  Nonetheless, he was on his way to her apartment. Knowing it was silly and probably a waste of time, but unable to stop herself, Dara jumped off the couch and changed from the sweatpants and ratty orange sweater she’d been wearing into a long black skirt and deep purple velvet top. She primped her hair, threw on some rouge, a little lipstick, spritzed herself with some Japanese jasmine flower body scent and checked out the results in the mirror. She knew she wasn’t a beauty and could stand to lose a few pounds – okay, more like twenty pounds -- but at that moment, she looked as good as she was ever going to get. Which honestly wasn’t half bad. She then went downstairs and sat on the step in the hallway, waiting for him to arrive.

  It wasn’t difficult for Ellis to find Dara’s apartment. All he had to do was look for the only card shop in town.

  Pulling up in front of the building, he looked up and saw her lights were on. There was a well-lit walkway that separated the card shop from the florist next door. Guessing the entrance to her apartment was in the back, he soon found himself in a small courtyard. At the far end was a dumpster. Closer to the house was a tiny grassy area with a picnic table, its red paint peeling in spots. He walked towards a minuscule porch, illuminated by a motion light that blinked on when he approached. Going up the few steps, he raised his hand to ring the doorbell when the door suddenly opened.

  “Come on in,” Dara said as she stepped aside. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  He followed her up a steep, creaky flight of stairs, bemused by how well she was dressed. Wafts of sweet perfume filtered down to him in the enclosed space. What a difference from the ragamuffin he’d met on the dock a few short days ago.

  Stepping into the studio apartment, he was struck by how cozy it was. There was no sense of claustrophobia or clutter. Before him was a couch and armchair with a coffee table separating the two. To the left was hung a beaded curtain behind which he guessed was her bedroom. To the right lay the kitchen.

  “I made you some coffee. Black, right?”

  He nodded, wondering if she was putting her so-called abilities on display to impress him. However, she worked at the coffee shop where he sometimes stopped by to order a sandwich and coffee. Although she was never on duty whenever he visited, which was usually in the afternoon, he was certain everything he did was discussed. Including how he took his coffee.

  Nor should he be surprised she was waiting for him. He was sure everyone knew by now that he was interviewing Mallory’s friends and acquaintances. Considering she was the one who’d first approached him with the dream that seemed to have come true, it was clearly evident she would be on his list of people to talk to.

  After handing him his coffee, she sat down on the couch where she already had a steaming cup of hot cocoa waiting for her on the coffee table. She picked it up and held it in her hands.

  “I heard you found Mallory,” she said as he sat down in the chair opposite her. “Was her face – you know?”

  “The information hasn’t been released to the public. But yes it was.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “God, that’s awful.”

  “I was hoping I could ask you some questions about Mallory. How well did you know her?”

  “We went to school together. And she came into the coffee shop a couple of times a week.”

  “What was your opinion of her?”

  Dara shrugged. “We didn’t interact much.”

  It was easy for Ellis to guess why. Mallory had been a beautiful, lively girl, easily a member of the elite ‘cool’ group. Every school had one – a congregation of the prettiest, most gregarious students. Dara, on the other hand, wasn’t what one could call pretty or gregarious. She appeared clumsy, uncoordinated. A girl who fed her insecurities with food. A girl who wanted so much to belong yet didn’t know how. And because she didn’t know how, stood out even more by being different. The reactions today whenever he brought up Dara’s name showed she wasn’t highly thought of. If she was thought of at all.

  “What about at the coffee shop?”

  “She’d order her vanilla bean skim milk latte and sometimes sit with DeeDee. Most times though, she came in, got her coffee an
d left.”

  “Surely you must have formed some opinion of her?”

  “I can only tell you what I saw.”

  “And that was?”

  “Someone who had everything going for her. She was pretty, popular, had loads of friends and every guy wanted to date her.” Dara started to say something more, but quickly caught herself.

  “What else were you going to say?” Ellis prompted.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Dara sighed. “The problem with Mallory was that she knew all the stuff I just described to you. Sometimes she could be nice. Other times—well…let’s just say I’m not into worshipping the false god of beauty.”

  Interesting way of putting that Mallory was arrogant.

  “That must have been disheartening for you.”

  Dara lifted her shoulders. “You get used to it.

  “How did you find out about the murder?”

  Anger tinged with wariness flashed through her eyes before she blinked it away. “I know what you’re thinking. How could I describe her death if I didn’t do it? But I swear I’m innocent. I really did see it in a dream. I didn’t recognize the girl as Mallory. Her features were fuzzy. All I could make out were the eyes and mouth.” She involuntarily shuddered, and Ellis noticed her knuckles turn white as she tightened her grip on her mug. “I –I found out what happened at the coffee shop today. It was all anyone could talk about.”

  “You honestly expect me to believe that you dreamed it before it happened?”

  “I can’t control what you believe. But it’s the truth.” She gave an impatient sigh. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone to see you. I should have known what your reaction would be.” Dara turned her head and looked out the window. “I know how weird this all sounds. Believe me, if I could, I wouldn’t have what other people call a gift. Frankly, it sucks. I don’t like knowing what people are thinking or feeling. I don’t like knowing if something is going to happen to them. And I certainly don’t like dreaming about such a horrible, twisted thing.” She turned her dark eyes back to Ellis. “I know your world is all about logic and incontrovertible proof. It has to be. But there is another world that exists right next to the world you know. It’s a world where visions and feelings and knowings occur whether we want them to or not.”