Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery (3 page)

“Fuck,” Zack muttered and shook his head, dragging me behind the privacy of his work issued SUV.

“Ouch!” I said.

“Oh, I barely pulled on your arm.”

“Well, I bruise easily,” I said rubbing the spot where his hand had been.

“Yes, I
remember,” he replied with a glint in his eye.

So, it’s probably best to tell you that once upon a time Zack and I h
ad a little thing. Nothing hot and heavy or deep and meaningful, just a simple one night stand. It happened right after my divorce, and I swear it was only once. (Okay maybe three times, but seriously no more than five!) Every woman should be so lucky as to have a divorce remedy like him. But beyond that night nothing else happened. Now he’s dating one of the other town trolls, Emma Phillips. I couldn’t for the life of me understand what he saw in her. Emma was a notable local relator and an even more notorious home wrecker. She was older than Zack, (over forty) but it was nothing that a plastic surgeon couldn’t fix. Rumor has it she’s already had implants, lipo and a tummy tuck. However, judging by some of her latest Instagram and Facebook photos, she might want to start with some Botox and fillers soon (I know I’m a catty bitch). Emma loved being out in the sun, hitting the river in the summer and tanning her naturally fair skin to the coveted bronzed shade that so many women strive to achieve. Unfortunately it was starting to show on her skin. Home girl was looking rough.

“My, my, what would your girlfriend s
ay if she heard that?” I said.

Zack only smiled,
leaned in and said, “I was merely referring to that time in elementary school when you tripped on the bleachers and fell down the stairs.”

“Oh,” I replied.

“You’re always thinking dirty Nat. That’s what I love about you,” he said with his brilliant smile.

I should also mention I have known Zack even longer than Karen. The problem is that we never ran in the same circles. Zack was always Mr. Popular, you know the type. Homecoming king, quarterback, class president and of course voted most likely to succeed. Even in elementary school he had it all together. Meanwhile I was the chubby, shy, awkward girl, just trying to make it through the day. Zack never noticed me. It wasn’t until I was long out of high school and had lost all the baby fat that he started to take notice.  Once my marriage tanked, I began hitting Chucky’s, a local bar where we reconnected. After that I assisted him with a missing housewife’s case and that’s when our little night of sin occurred.  I went into rehab a short time later, and have since stayed out of bars and Zack out of me. However, every once in a while he does call to ask for my help on a case of two, and if he doesn’t I sometimes arrive on scene to offer my services.

My heart started to do that little thump-thump beat that it always did when he was in my three feet of personal space
circumference. He smelled so damn good. The man really messed with my senses and train of thought.

“Why did you pull me over here anyhow?” I asked changing the subject.
I took a light sniff. Was it soap or body wash? Suddenly thoughts of him in a shower ran through my mind. Oh, shower. Suds. Naked…

“Because you always have a knack for showing up at these important scenes. I a
lso know you have amazing hunches about things. Care to share?”

I stared at him not actually hearing what he said, as I was too busy thinking impure thoughts about him and a soapy lo
ofa.

“Hello? Earth to Nat?” he said waving his hand in front of my face.

“What? Sorry, my mind wandered for a moment.”

“No kidding. So, what are your thoughts?”

The things I could do to you in a shower…

“Well, I d
on’t know. My mom just called and told me about the murder,” I replied dragging my mind from the gutter.
“That’s it? You came down here because your mom called?” he asked not believing.

“Alright,
so I’m a little curious.”

He laughed and licked his lips. I hated when he did that. It was subtle, but oh so sexy.

“You have any psychic impressions?” he asked in a hush tone.

There was one thing tha
t was bothering me. The whole situation was way too familiar. It felt a bit like déjà vu, but I wasn’t about to say so to Zack.

“No.”

“No?”

“Look, last night Hannah and Simon came into the store and she was a total bitch to me and Debbie.”

“What time was this?” he asked returning to cop mode.

“I guess about
quarter to midnight? It seemed like there was some tension between them.”

This caught his attention.

“Were they arguing in the store?”

“No. It was just the way he spoke to her, as if he was tired of dealing with her. She seemed a bit needy, and possessive. I don’t know. I guess I got the feeling that he was unhappy.”

“This ‘feeling’ is it an impression of yours?”

“Yes. That’s one thing I remember picking up. Nothing bad, or terrible, it just
felt like he was done with her, you know? Like when you’re at the end of a relationship and you’re tired of fighting and trying to make things work? That’s what I felt was going on with him.

Zack was quickly jotting down my response.

“What about her? Did you get anything from her?” he asked.

I thought back to last night and what I had felt about Hannah.
Obviously she grated on my last nerve, but the first impression is what caught my attention.

“I remember thinking she was trouble.”

“Trouble? As in what?” he asked with curiosity.

“Like she was trouble and also that she was surrounded by it.”

He continued writing down my thoughts and then paused and asked, “Did you happen to mention any of this to her?”

“No. She was just so rude and
spiteful; the first impressions went out the window after she opened her mouth.”

He nodded.

Man, now I felt bad. Maybe if I had warned Hannah, she might still be alive?

“I’m not blaming you,” Zack said softly, as if reading my mind. “Besides, it appears she pissed of
f quite a few people, including her lover boy, Bellamy.”

My spirit guide
was screaming loudly that this was false.

“I think you might be off base with this one,” I said rubbing my temple. Sometimes
my guide Gilles gets a little excited.

“Oh, yeah? Well, the live-in housekeeper stated she
overheard an argument between the two shortly after returning from their late night shopping trip. She said it was pretty heated.”

Gilles was still adamant the fight had nothing to do with the murder.

“The boyfriend’s not the only suspect either. Apparently his ex showed up last night too, which is what sparked the shouting match.”

“Bebe Gloth is here?”

“Yeah, and she stayed the night too.”

Oh, boy. This was getting better and better. Not only did the police suspect Simon, but they also had his former wife, famed young adult dystopia
n author Bebe Gloth as a person of interest. While I couldn’t see Simon having a real motive to kill, Bebe was a different story. Hannah had befriended Bebe, landed the role of the heroine in the film adaption of her bestselling books, won an Oscar for that role and Simon too. It was a tabloid journalist’s wet dream! For months it was the cover story all over the gossip magazines and blogs.

“Got any inside feelings on the ex-wife?”

I stopped and sent a silent thought out to Gilles, but he was suspiciously quiet.

“Nope. Nothing.”

Zack nodded and began surveying the crowd of reporters and looky-loos. He was probably checking to see if there was anyone that stood out. Sometimes killers liked to return to the scene of the crime to watch their work be discovered. I knew that they already had someone taking photos of the crowd, so he would most likely be going over those pictures later.

“So, how was she killed?” I asked.

“Gunshot wound to the head,” he said mimicking a gun to his right temple.

My blood ran cold.
Murdered in her car with a gun? This sounded just like my dream.

“What time did it happen?”

Zack looked down at his notes, “According to the M.E. preliminary T.O.D. is around two a.m.”

Shit. My heart nearly stopped. I had dreamt about Hannah’s murder. My psychic abilities usually consisted of knowing random things about people that I shouldn’t, past and present stuff. But I had never been one to dream about things and then have them come true. This was uncharted territory for me.

“What’s wrong? Are you picking up something?” Zack asked with interest.

I was about to answer
when his partner Detective Jack “Fatty” Russo came waddling over. Fatty was pushing fifty-five, retirement and 250lbs. He was short, about 5’7 with a large gut and hound dog jowls.

“Hey, Notebook, finish it up with your side piece and get back over here!” he yelled.

Oh, did I mention Zack bears an uncanny resemblance to Ryan Gosling?

“Shit. I hate when he calls me that.”

I laughed, and judging by his crimson face, he wasn’t lying. I figured there were worse names a person could be called and Notebook was not one of them.

I glanced over to see Fatty guiding someone into the back of his Crown Vic, it was Simon.
Just as he was getting into the car, our eyes locked and I could see a moment of recognition in his eyes.

“What’s he do
ing with him?” I asked concerned.

“He’s taking him down to the station for formal questioning. It’s all routine, so just simmer down,” he said understanding the alarm in my voice.

“Look, as per usual. Keep everything I’ve said to you confidential, okay?”

“Of course,” I said, praying that I was able to withhold this information from my mom and Karen.

“Nat, please stay away from this. I know that you love to help and use your little abilities, but I think you need to just sit back and let the boys handle this one.”

I hated when he treated me like a girl. Yes, I know I am one. But I hate when he made me feel like I was a fragile bird, unable to face the big bad world alone. I was going to try hard to respect his wishes, but I wasn’t going to make any promises
, especially when I felt like I was already involved whether I liked it or not.

With that he escorted me back to th
e police line and watched as I got into my car before walking away.

Chapter Six

I decided after leaving the crime scene that I would head over to Bike City to visit Karen and get some advice about my dilemma. Bike City was another small town, but worlds apart from Treeville. While we were mostly hickspanic and blue collar people, Bike City was all Asian and white bread intelligence. It was probably due to the fact that a UC was located there, which brought many scholarly types, such as scientist and doctors. I guess you could say there was a bit of rivalry between the two towns. Treeville thought Bike Cityites were a bunch of snooty assholes, while they thought we were ghetto trash. I guess you could say there was no love lost between the two towns.

Karen
worked as a librarian at the Bike City library. It took her nearly a decade of schooling, but she was finally doing what she loved. The pay wasn’t so great, but the benefits of having thousands of books at your fingertips more than made up for it. Also, I could see the happiness she got out of introducing someone to a new author.

After grabbing a couple of mysteries for myself and a few for my mom, I stood
waiting behind a rather elderly woman who had a copy of
50 Shades of Grey
in her hands. She appeared to be very eager with some questions, and Karen was the lucky recipient.

Oh, this should be interesting.

“May I help you?” Karen asked the woman, giving me a nod to let me know she saw me.

“Yes, Dear. What is this book about? I keep hearing things about it, but no one has given me details. Can you enlighten me?” Silver grandma asked putting the book on the counter.

I smiled at Karen and folded my arms. I figured I should settle in and get comfortable. This was going to be educational.

“Ah, well……..You see it’s about…..
Have you read or heard about the Twilight books?” she asked.

“No, but my grandbabies have. I used to hear them go on and on abo
ut them. Is this similar to that?” Grandma asked.

“Yes, it is actually,” Karen replied.

“Oh, so should I get this for them?”

“How old are they?” Karen asked.

“Well, let me see Katie and Mattie are about? Hmmm…16 now?” Grandma said.

“Oh, no! Definitely not. These would not be appropriate for them. This book is for the
mature
crowd,” Karen said trying to emphasis her meaning.

“Is it anything like them Fabio novels?” She asked.