Hidden Deception

When she got to the shop, there was nothing there to indicate a murder had occurred within those walls. All the police tape was down, but the door remained locked. She found the keys in her purse and opened the door.

With her hand on the knob, she prayed, “Lord, give me strength.” Slowly, she entered the building. Her gaze scanned the room. The police had moved things, and there was black powder on several pieces of furniture and the back door.

Walking into the room, she heard voices coming from the janitor’s closet at the back of the store.

“You don’t have to do that yourself, Diane. Call your experts that deal with rugs.”

From the voice, Elena recognized Preston Jones, the owner of the art gallery next door. Preston dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.

The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.

“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”

“The bus.”

Preston and Cam appeared behind her mother.

“How are you doing?” Cam asked, coming to her side. In his early fifties, he was a hippie, who came to Santa Fe in the early seventies and never left. He still bore some of his rebellious attitude toward the establishment and wore what was left of his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. His designs had become famous, and he’d developed a wide following. He was also a major dealer of native jewelry created by local artisans.

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he hugged her.

She stiffened. “I’m okay.” She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. When he released her, she stepped back.

Preston caught her gaze. “Are you sure?” He was the polar opposite of Cam. Preston Jones was tall, with a hundred-dollar haircut and clothes of the Hollywood elite, silk shirts and designer pants. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would help scrub this room. He’d probably give the sponge to her mother or Cam and then supervise.

“I can’t believe what happened here.” Cam looked around the room. “When I arrived this morning, the last of the cops were driving off. No one would tell me anything until your mom got here.” Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would anyone want to harm Joyce?”

Elena looked at her mother. They needed to talk.

“Guys, Mom and I need a few minutes,” Elena informed them.

The men glanced at Diane and she nodded.

Cam rested his hand on Elena’s arm. “If there’s anything that I can do, you let me know.”

She appreciated Cam. He’d been a rock when her father died. Those first few days after she arrived home from New York City had been hectic, but if something needed to be done, Cam had stepped up and helped until Adrian had arrived from Seattle.

Preston nodded. “Those are my sentiments, too. If you need anything, call.”

After the men left, Diane turned back to her daughter. “How are you?”

Elena sat down in the old rocker they’d recently acquired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go get my keys and purse from the cops. Detective Stillwater was still there.”

Diane sat on the coffee table next to the rocker. “And—”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Joyce’s police record?”

Diane looked down at her hands. “It wasn’t my secret.”

“You didn’t think I needed to know?”

“At the time, no.” When Diane looked up again, she grabbed Elena’s hand. “Do you remember when your father worked in the prison ministry?”

“Vaguely.”

“It was something he had a passion for. He met Joyce while she was still incarcerated for helping her ex-husband to pass counterfeit twenties. Apparently her ex-husband convinced her to pass some of the funny money.”

“She knew that money wasn’t real?”

“Yes. When Joyce came up for probation, your dad was contacted and asked if he would sponsor her.”

“So he agreed?”

“Yes. He believed Joyce had turned her life around and wanted to give her a new start. Your father trusted her. His trust was rewarded. Besides, your father’s faith in her led her back to church.”

Elena wasn’t surprised by the news. Phillip Jackson had been a mighty man of God with a heart that encompassed all around him. He’d been a tall man, with a full head of black hair. His laugh had been a thing of pure joy, and his smile had eased her heart more than once. When the Jacksons had first adopted her, she remembered how nervous she was around Phillip, worried that his temper would flare out of control. That had been her experience with her birth father. He would rage, shout and strike out. If he was mad, everyone in the family knew to hide.

Elena remembered the first time she’d disobeyed Phillip. She’d been in the antique store and spilled her purple grape soda on her father’s desk. She knew the rule about not bringing drinks into the office. When Phillip had discovered it, he’d been livid. He’d yelled and approached her. She covered her head with her hands expecting a blow. When nothing happened, she peeked through her fingers. Her father’s stricken expression shocked her. He squatted before her and waited.

It took several minutes, but she lowered her hands. He then said the most amazing thing. “I’m sorry, Elena.” She hadn’t believed her ears.

“I was wrong to yell at you. Please forgive me.”

Elena wasn’t sure she heard right. “Huh?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

It was the first time in her life anyone had asked for her forgiveness. But he didn’t move and continued to look at her.

“Yes. I forgive you.”

He nodded. “I give you my word, Elena, that I will never raise my hand to you. That doesn’t mean that when you do wrong you won’t be punished. But you will never have to fear me.”

Her father had been true to his word. He’d loved her and guided her through her teens. She knew her father would forgive her, but there were consequences for doing wrong. Slowly over the years, she learned to trust, and God had worked through Phillip to show her what a true father would do for his child.

Phillip had been that way with all the people around him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Joyce?”

“It happened while you were away at school. Besides, your father felt if Joyce wanted to share her past with you, she would’ve.”

Oddly, the information made Elena feel worse. Why hadn’t her father trusted her with that information?

“I guess I better start on the carpet.” Diane stood and walked back to the spot where Joyce’s body had been.

Elena came to her side. “I agree with the guys. Let a professional clean it.”

After a moment’s pause, Diane nodded her head. “Okay.”

“I’ll go call our regular guy.” She started toward the office.

“Elena—”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“It wasn’t you, sweetheart. Your father thought it wasn’t his secret to tell.”

“I understand.” But in her heart, she didn’t.

When Daniel woke at two in the afternoon, he showered, dressed, and made himself a cup of coffee. The night shift always took it out of him or maybe he was getting too old for night shifts. On the refrigerator under the magnet from Carlsbad Caverns was the playoff schedule for April’s soccer team. The final game was tonight at five. Her gym bag with her soccer uniform and shoes sat by the back door. He grabbed his digital camera, wanting to catch all the action of the game, and added it to the pile he needed to put into the trunk of his car.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, he opened his Bible to Ephesians 6 and read the chapter. Verse 11 jumped out at him—Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.

He knew from experience how important that armor was. When he was in Afghanistan fighting with his unit, he felt at peace in the midst of the flying bullets and tank fire. But when the chaplain had told Daniel his wife was dying of cancer, he’d felt naked. He’d come home within days and had two weeks with Nita before she died. In those dark hours beside her bed, he realized what he’d done to his wife. He had more of a bond with the guys in his unit than his wife. She hadn’t blamed or accused him of being a rotten husband, but she exacted a promise that he would not leave April. It was a promise that he’d not broken.

Shaking off the memories, he closed his Bible, snagged April’s gym bag and walked to his car. “Thank You, Lord, for another chance with April.”

He loved every moment with his little girl.

Walking into the police headquarters, Daniel met Raul. He held up the file in his hand. “ME’s preliminary report.”

The news stunned Daniel. “Already?”

“Amazingly, there was a lull at the morgue, so he got to our vic. She was stabbed four times. With the first three, our perp missed her heart. It was the final blow, straight into the heart that killed her.”

Obviously the crime had occurred at Past Treasures. Had the murderer been trying to rob the shop, or did it have something to do with Joyce’s life? “You want to interview the surrounding shop owners to see what they know?” They needed to know more about the victim. The square where the murder had occurred had a very low robbery and murder rate.

“I do. Let me get my coat and we’ll canvass the area.”

Once Raul got his coat, it took less than five minutes to get to Past Treasures. The store remained closed and Daniel didn’t see activity inside. They walked next door to the art gallery.

A tall, distinguished-looking man with a full head of dark hair and a deep tan approached them. “Gentlemen, how may I help you? Are you here to see the latest Jean-Paul Jaunes painting before it flies out the door?”

“I’m Detective Daniel Stillwater and this is my partner, Detective Raul Rodriguez. We’re with the Santa Fe Police and are investigating the murder of Joyce Murphy.”

He shook his head. “When I saw that Diane hadn’t opened the store, I went over there to see what the matter was. That was so tragic.”

Raul scowled. The guy was putting it on rather thick.

“Could we speak to you about Joyce?” Daniel asked.

“Of course. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

They followed him to the back of the store. His office was off the back workroom. Paintings, storage crates and bubble wrap filled the room, but no one was in sight. Mr. Jones walked to the enclosed office in the front corner. He’d spared no expense in furnishing the room, from the antique Spanish desk to the Tiffany lamp on the desktop. Beside it sat a laptop, open and working. Motioning to the chairs before the desk, he sat in the chair behind it.

Once settled, Daniel asked, “How well did you know Joyce?”

“She worked next door for several years. We traded hellos, but I didn’t know her very well.”

“Did you ever see her with a boyfriend? Or a friend she hung with?”

“No. The woman was completely closed up. She didn’t do small talk.”

Raul leaned forward. “Did she ever come over here and look at your gallery? Maybe talk about business at the store next door?”

“She came over here a couple of times. She didn’t appreciate fine art. And she couldn’t afford it. I told her it was a good investment, but she didn’t believe me.”

Daniel jotted down a couple of notes. “Do you know if anyone had anything against Joyce? Someone who she had a fight with.”

“I can’t say I ever saw anyone fight with her. But she mentioned working at the homeless shelter, the food bank and her church. There are plenty of people at the homeless shelter you can’t trust. Try there.”

“What church?” Raul asked.

“First Community Church over on St. Mary’s Avenue.”

“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.

“Nothing. One time I asked about her plans over the Fourth of July holidays—if any of her family was coming into town. She said nothing about family and planned to stay in town.”

“Can you think of anything else about Joyce? Habits, likes, dislikes?” Daniel hoped that Preston might help provide a clue to Joyce’s killer.

“She loved the Dodgers. Knew all the members of the team. She was something of a baseball fanatic.”

That piece of news could help. “Did she like college baseball?”

“Can’t say. You might ask Diane or Susan and Jeff Marks over at Mama Rosa’s.”

Daniel glanced at his partner, silently asking if he had any questions. Raul shook his head.

Pulling out his business card, Daniel handed it to Preston. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

Preston dropped the card onto his desk. “Sure.”

The detectives started out of the store, but Raul stopped by a large painting of a lily on a branch. Daniel had to swallow his smile at his partner’s puzzled expression.

“Are you interested in buying a good piece of art?” Preston flashed a smile at the detectives. “I have several up-and-coming local artists. You can buy them at a reasonable price before they become famous.”

Raul’s eyes widened. “There’s a market for this stuff?”

Jones bristled. “This is the Jean-Paul Jaunes painting I told you about earlier. He is the hottest upcoming painter on the art scene in the Southwest.”

Daniel grinned. Raul was more into the bold colors of his conquistador ancestors.

“Well, for that price, he better be number one.”

The painting’s price was equal to two months of a detective’s salary.

“It is an investment, Detective.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather put that kind of money in a good car,” Raul replied.

Preston sniffed and walked away.

“Apparently, you have no taste,” Daniel teased.

“No, I just have common sense. I don’t plan on being robbed.” Raul nodded to the door.

They walked down the street to Cam’s jewelry store, Three Star Creations, located on the south side of Past Treasures. The instant they walked into the store, Cam looked up from the customer he was helping. “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment,” he said, and went back to helping his customer. While Cam finished up, Daniel surveyed the store. Three Star Creations had a name in the city for its unique and inventive pieces.

When the customer finished her purchase and left the store, the man turned to Raul. “What can I do for you?”

Daniel stepped forward and introduced himself and the other detective. “You know about the murder of Joyce Murphy.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe what I saw when I came to work this morning. I’ve been sitting with Diane and Elena all morning.”

“Can you tell me anyone who might want to hurt the victim?”

“No one. Of course, I wasn’t close to Joyce. She kept to herself. Wasn’t very friendly.”

“Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.

“Nothing.”

“Is there any incident that you can think of where Joyce had a run-in with someone? Or maybe she mentioned someone who was angry with her.”

“No.”

“No boyfriends?”

“She never mentioned anything to me, and I never saw anyone.”

Daniel handed him his business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”

He nodded.

As they walked to the next store, Daniel muttered, “So far all we know is the woman was perfect.”

“And that bothers me,” Raul answered.

It was a red flag for Daniel, too.

Daniel and Raul walked the length of the alley behind the shops on the square. Cars from the shop owners and their employees dotted the alley. Parked behind the back door of Past Treasures was a cleaning truck. Daniel walked up the three steps that led to the door. The top step broadened out to make a small landing.

Carefully, he studied the back lock.

“Do you think it was a random robbery?” Raul asked. He glanced up and down the alley.

“Could be, but why not break into the jewelry store or the art gallery? Wouldn’t it be easier to fence jewels or one of the smaller paintings than some antique chest?”

“Naw, you couldn’t give away that art, but you might be able to get rid of the jewelry.”

Daniel studied the back door. “I don’t see any signs of the lock being forced.”

Raul joined Daniel on the top step. “So a pro did this, not an amateur or some teenager high on something.”

“Sounds right to me. Let’s check the statistics on robberies in the area, but I don’t think it was random. I think whoever broke in was after something in that shop.”

The back door opened and a man stepped out with a steam cleaner. He looked up and stopped. “The store’s closed today.”

“I was so sorry to hear about Joyce.” A woman’s voice floated out of the open back door.

Daniel pulled out his ID and showed it to the man. He shrugged and walked to his truck.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” the woman continued.

“No, but thank you. There’s nothing at the moment.”

Daniel recognized Elena’s voice.

He knocked on the back door to announce their presence.

Elena and her mother and another woman turned toward the sound.

“Detective.” Diane Jackson moved forward. “Is something wrong? Do you need more information?” A hint of panic colored her voice.

He smiled to ease her anxiety. “We’ve come to look at your shop in the light, to see maybe where the murderer might’ve come from.”

All three women paled.

Daniel turned to the woman he didn’t know and introduced himself. “And you are?”

“Susan Marks. My husband and I own Mama Rosa’s on the corner of the square.”

“Did you know Joyce?”

“Yes, I did. She helped with the homeless shelter. We donated food to the facility, and she helped us take it over there and serve.”

“How long has she been doing that?” Raul questioned.

“The last year and a half.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual about her in the last few weeks?”

“No.” Susan glanced at her watch. “I need to get back for the dinner rush.”

Daniel pulled out his business card and gave it to the woman.

After she left by the back door, he turned to Elena and her mother. “I’d call a locksmith today and have that back lock switched out. Whoever broke in here didn’t have a difficult time. Make it harder for anyone if it happens a next time.”

THREE

Elena opened the door to Joyce’s house. The modest dwelling on the edge of a business district had originally belonged to Phillip Jackson, but he’d sold it to Joyce for the mighty sum of fifteen hundred dollars. That information her mother told her after her father’s funeral had amazed Elena, but as she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her father was an exceptional man.

Pausing inside the door, Elena let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. The room looked as if a bomb had gone off in the place. Sofa cushions were pulled off and split open. In the corner, the desk had been ransacked, drawers hung awry, papers scattered about.

The kitchen mirrored the living room, with drawers hanging askew and dumped on the floor. Walking down the hall, she peeked into the bathroom. Same song, second verse. In the upstairs bedroom, the bed had been dismantled, the mattress pulled off the bed. The dresser drawers were thrown about the room with the mirror ripped off, the shattered remnants scattered over the top. Numbly, she walked around the room and glanced into the closet. Oddly enough, nothing was disturbed.

Elena pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed 911 as she walked toward the bedroom door. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Without thinking, she used her purse as a weapon and aimed at the man’s head. She made contact. He stumbled back into the hall and she tried to race by him. He lunged for her and caught her around the waist. Their momentum carried them to the floor. Somehow, he twisted in midair and took the brunt of the blow when they landed. She was ready to fight for her life when she looked into the man’s face and saw Daniel Stillwater. She went limp.

He said nothing.

In the quiet, she heard the 911 operator calling.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Scrambling away from Daniel, she yelled. “What’s the matter with you?”

He slowly got to his feet and offered his hand. “Are you all right?”

She took it and stood. “No.”

“Ma’am,” the operator called.

She could chew him out later, but now she needed to tell the operator she was okay. She looked around in the hallway for the phone.

“Ma’am,” the operator again called.

“Where is it?” Elena said, frantically scanning the hall. She stepped back into the bedroom. There between the mattress and a drawer lay her phone. Snatching it up, she said, “Uh—I’m sorry.”

“Are you all right?” the operator asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Are you being held against your will?” the woman questioned.

Color filled Elena’s face. “No, no. It’s just that I thought the intruder was—”

Daniel motioned for her to give him the phone. She did. He quickly explained the situation to the 911 operator, gave his police ID number and told her to notify the units on the way that he was with Ms. Jackson. He also asked for an evidence team to be dispatched to this address. He disconnected and handed the phone back to Elena. “Let’s go and greet the officers.”

She dropped the phone into her purse and followed him to the door. Outrage and mortification had replaced fear in her brain. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. You’re lucky I didn’t use the move my father taught me when he knew I was going to New York City.”

His brow arched. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you as an intruder.”

That gave her pause.

“What are you doing here?” He was all business.

“The medical examiner released Joyce’s body. I told Mom I’d get something for the funeral home to dress Joyce in.” She looked into the bedroom. “But someone had decided to destroy the place before I got here.”

“So it was this way when you entered?”

She frowned at him. “Yes, it was. Do you think I did this?”

He said nothing.

“I got here about five minutes ago. I was so stunned that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had just decided to call 911 when you appeared in the doorway and we did that little thing.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

His lips twitched.

When they arrived at the front door, the patrol units were already there.

Reaching for the doorknob, Daniel said, “I’ll have to commend patrol division on their quick response time.”

Elena frowned. That wasn’t exactly her first thought.

He called out to the patrolmen, then slowly appeared in the open door. The patrolmen holstered their weapons and walked to the front door. Elena recognized them. They were the same ones who responded to Joyce’s murder.

“Stillwater.” Icenhour nodded to the house. “What are you doing here?”

“Our murder vic from yesterday, this is her house. I wanted to let you know that Ms. Jackson and I were inside and the robbery call-in was a misunderstanding. No use having you shoot me.”

Icenhour nodded. “It would be hard to explain how I shot a Santa Fe Police Detective.”

Daniel pointed over his shoulder. “Someone has systematically destroyed the house. I want to see if we can get usable fingerprints. Also, I want you to look around the property and see what you come up with.”

The two patrolmen nodded and walked away. Daniel turned to Elena. “Do you still want to get a dress for Joyce?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes.”

He nodded and indicated for her to go back inside. “Why is your family handling the burial?