Free Caught Dead Handed by Carol J. Perry Page B

license. He squinted at it for a long moment, then handed it back. He nodded toward Aunt Ibby.
    â€œYou with her, Miss Russell?”
    Library buddy? Facebook friend? Does she know everybody?
    â€œShe’s my niece, Patrick. How’s your mother?”
    â€œShe’s fine, thanks. Go on back, you two. Chief Whaley’s waiting down by the water.”
    â€œPatrick’s mom is in my Zumba class,” my aunt explained as we crossed the lot.
    Chief Tom Whaley was a big cop. I’m five-eight, close to six feet in heels, and he towered over me.
    â€œMs. Barrett?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He looked at Aunt Ibby. “And you are . . . ?”
    â€œIsobel Russell. Maralee is my niece.”
    â€œYou work at the library. I’ve seen you there.”
    â€œYes. What’s all this about?”
    He consulted a notebook, and I looked around. Everything seemed a lot different than it had the day before. Felt different, too. The yellow tape now read CRIME SCENE, instead of DO NOT CROSS. A paneled truck marked CSI was parked nearby, and several jumpsuited technicians had congregated beside the wall, close to the spot where I’d found the buzzing phone. A few yards away stood a group of people in lab coats. At their feet, in a neat, still row, were the bodies of five dead seagulls.
    I nudged Aunt Ibby.
    A few dead birds in a parking lot hardly constitute a crime scene!
    My aunt put my thought into words. “Chief Whaley, it’s certainly a shame about those poor birds, but killing birds isn’t a real crime, is it?”
    He snapped the notebook shut. “Of course not. We’re investigating a homicide here.”
    â€œYou mean . . . Ariel?” I asked.
    He ignored my question. “Do I understand that you have been hired to replace the deceased, uh, psychic?”
    â€œYes. That is . . . ,” I stammered. “I think I have the job. I don’t have a contract yet.”
    â€œYou spoke with someone about that job within a few hours of the discovery of the body?”
    â€œYes. Janice Valen.”
    Once again he consulted the notebook. “And you were the person who discovered the body?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAt approximately what time did you discover it?”
    â€œA little past nine.”
    He scribbled in the notebook. “And how did you happen to be in this area?”
    â€œWell, as I explained to Detective Mondello yesterday, I’d just been told that the job I wanted had already been filled. So I came down here for my car.” I gestured toward the space where the Buick had been. “That’s when I heard a phone buzzing. I went to the wall to see what it was, and then I saw the body.”
    His uh-huh sounded skeptical. He lifted the yellow tape so the three of us could duck under. The CSI people paused as we approached. One motioned to the chief.
    â€œWhat’s up?” the chief asked, frowning.
    â€œThere’s a trace of blood on the pavement here,” was the reply. “We’re swabbing it now.”
    Aunt Ibby couldn’t remain silent any longer. “So Ariel’s drowning wasn’t an accident?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. We don’t think so.”
    Aunt Ibby persisted. “Why?”
    â€œI guess there’s no harm in telling you. It will be in all the papers. The fingers on both of her hands were broken. As though someone had stepped on them. With heavy boots.” He looked pointedly at my booted feet and then directly into my eyes. “Does that bag contain the articles you took from the Nightshades set?”
    I handed him the bag. “I didn’t take anything. I borrowed a few props—with permission.”
    â€œI see.” His tone was almost casual. “Can you account for your whereabouts at around midnight the night before last?”
    â€œOf course I can,” I snapped. “My aunt picked me up at Logan Airport around eleven. I flew nonstop from Tampa. It took