Page 6 of Little Last Words
The door to the bathroom was ajar, not a lot, just a few inches. I approached and repeated the same greeting I’d given before, hoping the girl’s mother would answer me this time.
When she did not, I entered, flipping the light switch on, except the lights didn’t come on. I tried the switch a few more times. Still nothing. There was a candle resting at the opposite end of the counter. I leaned down and took a whiff. Vanilla and something else … cedar, perhaps.
A black shower curtain with large, white daisy patterns all over it was closed, offering no visibility into the shower itself. But the red smudge marks on the cabinet door and towel puddled on the floor told their own story.
This was it, the moment of truth, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
I reached out a finger and slid the curtain to the side.
There, lying face up, was a woman I assumed to be the girl’s mother.
Her eyes were closed, and there was no need to check for a pulse. Her body was stiff, her skin pale, indicating she was in a state of rigor mortis. Bloodied tissues were wadded up around the woman’s neck.
I grabbed a comb off the countertop and used the handled end to pull back some of the tissues. I was looking for any indication to explain what had happened here. Some of the wadded-up tissues were stuck to the woman’s neck, making it hard to remove them. After a few tries, I achieved success, the comb falling to the floor as I slapped my hand over my mouth. I may not have known why the woman died, but looking at her now, I had a good idea about how she died.
Someone had slit her throat.
CHAPTER4
My main objective after alerting 911 and San Luis Obispo’s Chief of Police Rex Foley about the homicide was to find the girl’s grandmother or another relative who could take the child. I knew Foley would want to question her, but right now, I wanted her far away from the hellish nightmare she’d already endured.
I fished around several cabinets and drawers until I found a pair of plastic gloves inside a bowl alongside a couple of boxes of hair dye. After slipping them on, I did a bit of snooping around in the master bedroom. Inside a handbag dangling from the knob on the door, I found a driver’s license and some credit cards in the name of Penelope Barlow. I had a name, which put me one step closer to locating her family members.
A year and a half earlier, after I’d stepped down as lead detective for the San Luis Obispo Police Department for the second time. I’d opened the Case Closed Detective Agency, bringing on former detectives Lilia Hunter and Simone Bonet. Simone also happened to be married to my brother. Lilia, who preferred to be called Hunter, was an introvert, preferring to work behind the scenes during our investigations, oversaw the research end of the agency. I gave her a call.
After explaining what I’d encountered while out for my morning walk, she said, “Not the best way to start your birthday, eh?”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “I’m just glad I noticed the girl when I was passing by.”
“You got the kid’s name yet?”
“A pillow on the bed in the girl’s bedroom has the name Sadie embroidered on it.”
“And the mother?”
“Sadie said her mother’s name is Penelope. It matches the driver’s license I found inside a purse in the master bedroom closet.”
“How’s the kiddo doing?”
“She’s asleep on the couch, which is good,” I said. “I’m concerned about how she’ll react when she wakes to find a bunch of cops milling around the place.”
“Geez. I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.”
“I’m guessing she’s scared and trying to make sense of what’s happened.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I called Giovanni a few minutes ago. He’s on his way to pick her up and take her to our house. I’m hoping Luka will be a good enough distraction while we try to locate any relatives in the area.”
“Does Foley know you’re planning to remove Sadie from the house?”
“What do you think?”
She laughed. “I’m guessing he doesn’t.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I doubt he’d approve, but she doesn’t need any more trauma right now. I don’t want her here while they take photos and bag and tag her mother. If he chooses to be mad at me, that’s his choice. He’ll be here soon, but since he isn’t yet, I’m not keeping her here any longer.”
“Hey, I agree. What can I do to help?”