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    JC Phelps
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Storm of Suspicion - 10. Chapter 10

Misty awoke, lifting herself from the bed and looked around disoriented. She had passed out face down on the bed, leaving a smear of makeup on the pillow like an animated reproduction of the Turin shroud. Her wig hung off the top edge of a lampshade at the head of the bed and one shoe was flung across the room, the other remained on her foot, now looking like it was two sizes too small from her foot being so swollen. Her dress draped from one shoulder being torn in the back. “Shit”, she declared seeing herself in the full length mirror on the wall opposite from the bed. She reached down to extricate her foot from the offending shoe and stumbled towards the bathroom. Turning on the light and glaring into the mirror over the sink, she noticed splattering of blood crusted among the sequins. “Well I guess this dress is ruined”, she mumbled as she pulled the dress off and crumpled it up, tossing it into the trash can. She then grabbed a washcloth from the rack and began scrubbing the rest of the makeup off her face and finished undressing. “Ok, enough of that, time for a long hot shower!”, she concluded, taking one final long look in the mirror, noticing a few scratches along her shoulder.

Standing in the hot shower, Misty let the water run over her head and down her back, being soothed by the sound of the water and the light massaging effect of the shower. Suddenly an insistent knocking at the door brought her back to the present. Quickly turning off the water and putting on a terry cloth robe, Misty went to see who was at the door.

“Who is it?” she inquired, peering through the crack of the door left from the security lock.

“It’s Tony, from downstairs…”, he answered. “We met last night…”.

“Oh yes, of course” she replied, closing the door again to unhinge the security lock and then open the door completely.

“Oh, I’m sorry…”, Tony stuttered. “I think I have the wrong room. Is Misty here?”.

“Silly, I’m Misty. Well, um I guess you could say I’m Mark,” she replied.

“Wow, I didn’t even recognize you at all”, Tony grinned. “Definitely a big difference.”

“A good difference or a bad one?”, Mark edged on.

“Let’s just say you're striking either as a man or a woman”, Tony commented.

“Aren’t you just the little politician?”, Mark giggled as he directed Tony into the room. “And what can I do to.. ah…for you this morning?”.

“I just came up to see if you wanted to come down to the cafe for breakfast and meet with Ron. He’s there now having his coffee and going over the schedules for the month,” he explained.

“Yes, of course. Just gimme a minute to get dressed,” Mark replied, motioning for Tony to have a seat while he waited. As he dropped his robe, like nobody was in the room, he pulled a pair of jeans from the open suitcase thrown on the floor, a t-shirt, and put them on along with a ratty pair of sneakers. “Ok, ready!”.

“Wow, that’s the quickest I’ve ever seen a drag queen get ready for anything”, Tony teased.

“Haha, no underwear. No tucking and no tits. That’s half the battle right there,” Mark joked as they headed to the door and downstairs to the cafe.

§

Thom suddenly sat up looking around as if he’d just remembered something or wasn’t sure where he was. The bed was partially made and had obviously been slept in. So why was he on the couch? “Oh yeah”, Thom declared as he rubbed his neck. “I wonder where Karla is?” he pondered aloud as he got up and headed to the bathroom. Upon returning, he noticed that her phone was still on the nightstand beside the bed charging. “Guess she couldn’t have gone too far”, he decided as he finished getting dressed. He then picked up his own phone and made his way to the hallway and began knocking on the door of the room next to his. “Nate, Mike, you guys up yet?”, he called out. “Hey Thom, come on in”, Nathan replied as he opened the door. “Mike is still in the shower. We were going to come get you in a bit.”

“I think Karla already went to the dining room so I figured I’d see if you guys wanted to go get breakfast”, Thom replied. “After that I figured we could go down to the station and check on Steven. Plus I still haven’t been able to get them to release Johannas body so I can begin making the funeral arrangements. Well Danny too but…..”, he drifted off, shuddering at the thought of what may or may not be left of Danny's body to contend with.

“Yeah, actually we need to go down there too. Remember Michael saying that the name ‘Terrance Edwards’ seemed familiar to him…”, Nathan began to reveal as Michael entered from the bathroom.

“Hey, good morning Thom”, he said.

“ so yeah”, Nathan continued. “Apparently Michael here hired Edwards to come spy on you at the Griffin”.

“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that”, Michael responded. “More like undercover boss. I just had him go by the other night to see how the club was doing and whatever. He just happened to be there the night Johanna gets killed. With all the threatening calls I’ve been getting about selling the place, I thought it’d be good to find out if it was worth hanging on to.”

“So, I’m confused”, Thom responded. “How come you didn’t tell us this before?”.

“I didn’t know it was him when we dragged him here from the wreck. I never actually met him”, Michael explained. “I hired him through a contact and we had only communicated through texts and emails”

“Ok, I guess”, Thom sighed. “So what did you find out?”.

“Actually nothing. I never heard from him again. I suppose he skipped town right after the murder like everyone else”, Michael rationalized.

“Well that doesn’t sound right ... we just found him only a few miles out of town and the wreck looked fairly recent. I mean he’d already been either found or dead by the time we came through”, Nathan speculated. “It’s like he didn’t leave town right away.”

“Yes”, Thom injected, “he’s been in town this whole time. Steven said he’s the guy that rented his room at the Pilgrims Landing and then I’ve seen him around here a couple times. In fact I chased him out the back door after Steven saw him upstairs earlier. And I’m pretty sure I saw him down on Commercial street the morning of the fire.”

“So maybe you did hire someone to kill Johanna and then burn the place down…”, Nathan proclaimed turning towards Michael.

“What? Wait… NO! That’s preposterous!”, Michael burst out. “How could you even think such a thing? I’ve been wanting to keep the bar so that Thom here would always have a place and something to do”, he concluded.

“Well whoever he is, Karla claimed she saw Officer Peters kill him last night”, Thom declared.

“That can’t be”, Nathan stated firmly. “She might have thought she saw but… that just wouldn’t make sense. Edwards was just here to check out the club. I dunno maybe he got stuck in town because of the investigation? I dunno…”

“Yeah, I didn’t hire some crazed killer!”, Michael cried out. “And why would Peters kill him? That really makes no sense. She must be mistaken”.

“Now let’s not argue about this”, Thom declared. “There has to be some logical explanation for all of this and everyone getting all in a tither isn’t going to resolve anything. Now let’s all go out to the dining room and get coffee and something to eat.”

“Sounds good to me”, Michael declared as he finished tying his shoe and jumped up from the bed, throwing his wet towel back onto the bathroom floor.

“Agh”, Nathan shuddered. “I guess you never got the memo that gays are supposed to be neat-freaks!”

“Oh whatever, that’s what we have maids and houseboys for!”, Michael quipped back.

“Unhuh, ‘houseboy’. Is that what you call your tricks these days?” Nathan scoffed as he turned back to Thom. “So where's Karla?”

“I think she already went down to breakfast, we’ll catch up with her there”, Thom replied. “After that I think we all need to go ask this Terrence Edwards character a few questions, unless Peters did actually kill him.”

As they entered the dining room, Thom scanned area and the lobby but didn’t see Karla anywhere. He walked up to the front desk where Carter was sitting, watching TV, mostly flipping channels. “Agh, 986 channels and not a damned thing worth watching”, Carter declared as Thom approached the desk. “Good morning Thom, did everyone sleep well I trust?”

“Like a rock”, Thom declared. “I think I actually just passed out more then anything. In fact I didn’t even hear Karla leave the room. You haven’t happened to have seen her have you? She left her phone so I know she couldn’t have gone far….”

“Actually I have”, Carter replied. “She was here maybe 30 minutes ago to get some coffee and then was heading to the police station to see Steven. I sent her with a basket of muffins and a couple sandwiches”.

“Well that's odd that she’d leave her phone….” Thom drifted off as her made his way back to Nathan and Michael who had already taken seats at one of the tables and were looking over menus.

§

“Where do you think your taking me?”, Karla bellowed from the back seat of the cruiser. “The police station is the other direction”.

“I think you’ve seen enough of the police station for now,'' Peters stated firmly as he sped down Bradford Street, abruptly turning right as the road ahead of them ended at the ocean.

“So you think you can get away with this?” she screamed louder as she began kicking at the back of the seat. “I saw you kill Edwards and I know you're trying to frame Steven for Johannas murder”.

“I don’t know what your talking about”, Peters replied. “Edwards is dead as a result of the car wreck. Steven did murder Johanna, we have the ‘proof’. And you ...you accidentally got caught in the storm and drowned in the ocean”.

“So that’s your plan?”, Karla speculated. “What’s Steven got to do with it? And why’d you kill Edwards? He didn’t do anything!” she exclaimed.

“He was a liability, and so are you!”, Peters replied. “We’ve come too far for a couple of meddling intruders to mess everything up!”.

“Messing what up? Ruining everyone's life?”, Karla inquired. “What did Steven or Thom ever do to you?”

“Nothing, but that’s not even the point. The point of this all is to build a casino and turn this town into a year round destination, they’re all in the way” Peters explained. “Everything was going fine until that guy showed up at the Pilgrims Landing and then the drag queen got axed. And then you show up nosing around…”

“You mean Johanna's death didn’t have anything to do with all of this? Then how come….”, Karla began questioning. She suddenly started feeling light headed as the car turned swiftly, throwing her to one side of the car.

“Enough of your damned jibber-jabbering”, he snapped as he pulled into a parking lot surrounded by sand dunes, small low growing bushes, and patches dune grass. Directly to one side of the parking lot stood a small grey weathered building that resembled a welcome center that you’d typically see along large highways. A little further beyond was a two story, white clapboard house with a red roof and a seemingly small lighthouse that barely extended above the roof of the house.

As Peters opened the rear door of the cruiser, Karla began to scream and kick frantically. “You’ll never get away with this”, she screamed but she felt like she was already underwater, he own voice sounded muffled as her kicking became weaker.

“We already have”, Peters replied with a condescending grin. His large imposing frame nearly blocked the doorway as he reached in and grabbed Karla by the arm and dragged her out. Her demure figure was hardly adequate at fending off his size and stature, despite all her combative training. Once out of the car, Peters was able to secure her hands in cuffs and began leading her towards the light house. “Go ahead and scream if you want to, nobody is ever going to hear you out here!”, he declared gruffly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and unlocked the door, swiftly pushing Karla inside.

“What are we doing here?”, she shrieked as she fell limp to the floor, feeling the room spinning about her, her hands still secured behind her. “I thought you were going to throw me in the ocean”, Karla continued antagonizing Peters. Karla had been a world class swimmer in high school and college. At one time, she had even had the chance to tryout for the Olympic team but somehow life had gotten in the way and had her first daughter. She was certain that if he threw her in the ocean, even with the handcuffs on that she could still swim enough to get away.

“Oh no, no….” Peters replied. “I never said I was going to kill you...I said you were going to be found after drowning, having had wandered off in the storm, which will be hitting the hardest in a few more hours,'' he explained. “Meanwhile your happy ass can stay way out here, where nobody can hear or find you and out of everyone’s way; especially mine!”.

§

Thom, Michael, and Nathan walked briskly down Pearl Street towards the police station, carrying three brightly colored and oversized golf umbrellas that Carter had given them before leaving the Inn. They occasionally struggled as the increasing winds would catch the umbrellas and pull them upward as if to take the trio into flight like an ensemble of Mary Poppins’ clones. As they approached the station, both an ambulance and a hearse pulled up alongside the building. “I wonder what the hell is going on now?”, Thom mused, turning to the others for suggestions.

“I guess we’ll find out when we get inside”, Michael declared.

“Well I hope nothing happened to Steven”, Thom declared.

“Maybe they’re just here to transport Danny and Johanna to the funeral parlor”, Nathan rationalized in an attempt to curb Thoms growing anxiety.

“But they never let me claim their bodies so I could make the arrangements…”, Thom replied with an obvious disappointment in his voice.

Inside the station, the level of chaos was palpable. Several officers were rushing around carrying files and paperwork from one desk to another like a hoard of bees in a newly discovered flower garden. At one desk in the corner sat a middle aged woman with a stethoscope draped around her neck, busy writing. Two EMT’s approached the woman and after speaking to her briefly exited the room down the back stairway. Another older man dressed in a simple Navy blue suit with a plain white shirt and black tie appeared from Wallace's office, spoke briefly to the woman, and then exited down the stairway. The plump girl from earlier spotted the trio and addressed Thom, “Did you need something?” she inquired, almost brushing them into the corner and away from the turmoil in the room.

“I came to see about Johanna and Danny’s bodies so I could begin making the funeral arrangements and they’re here to talk to that guy they brought in from the wreck,” he replied gesturing towards Nathan and Michael.

“Well now isn’t a good time for any of that,'' she replied. “The undertaker is already here to take them to the funeral parlor before the storm hits”.

“Oh, I see”, Thom responded distantly. “Well what about Mr. Edwards then? Can we talk with him?”.

“Dead”, the woman replied, without batting an eye.

“Say what?”, Michael turned suddenly to hear more. “He was fine when we brought him here, I mean he was starting to come around and the medics that checked him didn’t seem too concerned…”.

“See, Karla was right”. Thom slyly whispered to Nathan.

“Well, now he’s dead”, she continued very flatly. “They’re getting ready now to take him to the state examiner in Sandwich for a full autopsy”.

“By ambulance?”, Thom inquired.

“Yes, by ambulance,'' she replied. “Why?”.

“Process of elimination; I thought something might have happened to Steven”, Thom explained.

“Karla should be here with him now I would imagine”, Nathan stated, again trying to reassure Thom.

“The woman that was with you earlier?” the woman asked. “I haven’t seen her here at all since she came to see Mr. Haynes last night”.

“Well that’s weird, she should have been here by now”, Michael declared.

“Can we go check on Steven anyway?”, Thom asked.

“Sure, just better come with me”, she directed as they maneuvered through the room and down the stairs.

§

 

“Hey Ron”, Tony called out as he led Mark into the cafe at the MagnoliaHouse. “This is Mark…. um I’m sorry I didn’t catch your last name”.

“Yes, more infamously known as Misty Lane. I spoke to you about working the cabaret show here….”, Mark announced, extending his hand toward the man.

Ron was a much older man than expected with an overwhelming year-round tan that added to his years. His snow white hair made a stark contrast to his weathered skin and his smaller frame made him appear less imposing then Mark had interpreted from their prior phone conversation. “I’m so glad you were able to fill in the last minute for Johanna. Any idea how long she’ll be tied up?”, Ron asked, directing Mark and Tony to sit down and then motioning for the waitress to come to the table.

“Oh, um, I think she’ll be stuck in P-town for a while,'' Mark stated. “She’s getting buried pretty deep in her work lately”.

“I’m afraid I’m at some disadvantage not having met you before. My partner David does all the recruiting talent. He said you actually did quite the show as Bette with the Delores De Lago routine. Really killed the audience.”

“Yeah, I’m a killer all right”, he groaned under his breath.

“What’s that?”, Ron asked. “I’m sorry all these years in a loud nightclub, my hearing isn’t what it used to be.''

“Oh, ah… thrill. What I was saying is I’m thrilled to be here”, Mark quickly replied.

“Hey Ron, I thought David took you to the Doc to get your hearing checked?”, Tony intercepted.

“He did, they gave me one of those damned hearing aids”, he grumbled.

“Well why aren’t you wearing it?”, Mark urged further.

“I’m not wearing that damned thing, makes me look old”, Ron griped.

“But you are OLD”, Tony mocked.

“Bitch”, Ron glared before turning to the waitress who had been patiently standing at the table, trying not to giggle over the conversation. “Coffee for everyone to start with, and anything you like”, Ron added, turning to Mark. “Bitch you can buy your own breakfast”, he sneered back at Tony.

Copyright © 2019 JC Phelps; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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