Illusions of Death Page 8

  “This is ridiculous.”

  She scrolled her cell contacts for Chris Stevenson. Karlyn punched in his number and hoped she would get Chris and not his voicemail.

  “Hello. This is Chris’s phone, Warren answering.”

  The new voice with the thick Southern twang threw her. “Uh, this is Karlyn Campbell. Chris is—”

  “Oh, my god! Karlyn Campbell. Karlyn Campbell! I absolutely adore you. I wish that beautiful creation of Matt Collins could step from the pages and whisk me away to Tahiti. And Chris, too. But you don’t even know me, darling. I’m Warren Newlin, a terrific hairstylist, and the love of Chris’s life. At least this week.”

  “Chris is that fickle?” Karlyn had gotten a different impression from the few conversations they’d had. In fact, she hadn’t even known he was gay. Or bi.

  “Oh, hush, of course not. Chris is my dream come true. I’m a drama queen, through and through. Everything is larger than life with me because I’m Southern. Chris accepts it, so I’m good. He even takes out the trash, which makes him the best man on the planet. And here he is now, coming in from doing that. Hold on a minute, Karlyn, I’ll get him.”

  She took a deep breath and shook her head. Warren Newlin was a pure tornado of energy.

  “Karlyn? How are you?” Chris’s deep rumble sounded over the phone. “I saw the news about your dad. And I apologize for Warren getting ahold of the phone. He’s been dying to talk to you ever since I told him we were doing a little work together. He’s read all your stuff—historical romances, romantic suspense, the mainstream stuff. He desperately wants to meet you.”

  “As long as he doesn’t turn into a category five hurricane, I’d love to meet him.”

  “I assume you’ll go back to New York now that the funeral’s over. Where did you leave off? Last time we talked, you’d finished the scene with the Mafia don and dominatrix that Matt stumbled into.”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve decided to stay in Walton Springs for a while. And the Big Ugly is standing in my way and won’t let me write around it. I wanted to see if you’re free. Maybe you could come up for a few days and help me out. You’ll get a co-credit when I deliver the screenplay to the studio. And you’re welcome to stay here. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Walton Springs is only thirty miles away once you get outside Atlanta. I’d love to work together in person. Are you sure your mom won’t mind?”

  “The house is huge, and Mother loves entertaining. I think it would help her keep her mind off things.”

  “Hold on. Yes, I’m going up.” Chris paused. “I’ll ask.” He sighed. “About how long are we talking?”

  “A few days. Maybe a week at the most.”

  “Think there’s room enough for two?”

  “Absolutely. Warren sounds like a breath of fresh air. Whenever you can make it. You’re the one doing me the favor.”

  “I can drive up this afternoon. Warren says he has a few appointments he can’t break, but he can make it by Saturday afternoon. Can I bring anything? Living with a born and bred Southerner, he’s taught me I always need to bring something when I come a-calling.”

  Karlyn laughed. “All I need is your talent. And inspiration. Bring your own laptop. I’m a little possessive about mine.”

  “I’ll run a few errands and be there by six.”

  “Sounds terrific.” She gave him the address. “I’ll let you read what I have when you get here. We’ve got company coming for dinner, a local detective and his parents. Maybe we can pump him if we need some of the crime details tweaked.”

  “I love talking to experts, but I’m not sure this guy would’ve seen a lot in Walton Springs. It’s a little like Mayberry. Matt’s a New York guy through and through.

  “Logan spent several years with Atlanta PD, so he knows his way around gangbangers and homicides. He could be a good resource.” She laughed. “Besides, he’s read my novels and likes them.”

  “We all need that ego booster around, especially when the creative juices dry up. I’ll see you by six.”

  Karlyn hung up, feeling more confident. She needed to let her mother know that houseguests would arrive soon. Before, she might have hesitated with such news. Now with the new and improved Martha 2.0, she believed her mother would be in the thick of things.

  She decided to stop working. Chris would jumpstart her professionally. She felt an easy rapport with him.

  And Logan Warner might jumpstart her personally.

  Chapter 14

  Logan shut his computer down and turned off the monitor. Ever since the mayor’s efficiency expert studied the work habits of city employees, they’d received almost daily emails on how to save energy. He grimaced. If he won the race for police chief, that kind of bureaucratic crap would be unavoidable.

  Brad sauntered into the squad room. “Just landed a hot date tomorrow with that new receptionist. You doing anything this weekend?”

  Logan stood. “Having dinner with my parents tonight.”

  His partner’s eyes lit up. “Your mom making roast beef by any chance?”

  Brad often wrangled an invitation to dinner at the Warner household. Resa loved to see a man with an appetite appreciate her cooking. Brad Patterson came with an empty stomach and a mouth full of pretty compliments.

  “We’ve been invited by Martha Campbell to have dinner at her house. She wants to get more involved in town now that her husband’s passed.”

  “And Resa Warner is the busiest soul in Walton Springs. Frankly, I can’t believe she’s never run for mayor. Maybe Mrs. Campbell will become her new bestie and financial back her campaign.”

  Logan saw the look in Brad’s eyes. “Don’t think you can crash this dinner party, partner.”

  “Will the lovely Karlyn Campbell be there?”

  “I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly. He hadn’t liked the interest Brad showed in Karlyn, though he had yet to lay eyes on her. Brad was a solid partner but a total womanizer. Karlyn, rebounding from divorce, needed to give men like Brad a wide berth.

  Especially since Logan wanted to stake a claim with her first. He’d spent a restless night thinking about the explosive kiss they’d shared. He remembered the countless times he’d read Sleeping Beauty to Ashley. She clamored for the story again and again and watched the DVD religiously. She’d even gone through a phase where she wanted everyone to call her Aurora, Sleeping Beauty’s given name.

  His kiss with Karlyn last night had awakened him, as sure as the prince’s kiss has stirred Aurora back to life.

  And he wanted more. Much more. With her.

  Brad pulled out his phone as he hit a few keys on his computer, pulling up a file. He smiled and punched in a number. Logan seethed, knowing exactly how this would play out.

  “Mrs. Campbell? This is Brad Patterson from the Walton Springs Police Department. I was calling to check on you, ma’am.”

  Logan didn’t bother listening to the rest. He’d seen Brad’s charm in action before. He walked out, knowing Brad would be sitting at the Campbell dinner table later tonight, flirting outrageously with both Karlyn and her mother.

  He promised himself to stay pissed on the inside and be cool to the world on the outside.

  And make sure Brad didn’t make any headway pursuing Karlyn.

  Karlyn joined her mother and Chris in the living room, glad that Chris fit in effortlessly upon his arrival. Martha was delighted to play hostess for the writer and his partner.

  “Would you like a drink?” Chris moved to the bar. “I bartended for years in New York before I moved to Atlanta. It kept me going before I sold a screenplay and could give it up to write fulltime.”

  “I’ll take a pomegranate martini. Thanks.”

  Chris mixed the drink and handed it over. She sipped it. “Perfecti
on.”

  The doorbell sounded. Martha excused herself to answer it.

  Karlyn told Chris, “Thanks again. You’ve entertained Mother since you got here. The best medicine for her is to be around others right now.”

  “She’s an interesting lady. Lots of good stories. She’s met everyone—Capote, Trump, Clinton. She should write a book.”

  “My father knew everyone, even if he didn’t care much for the company of others.”

  Logan walked into the room, escorting his mother and father. A man she didn’t recognize followed them. Karlyn noted looking at Dr. Warner was like seeing Logan twenty-five years down the road.

  Mrs. Warner came straight to her and shook her hand warmly. “Miss Campbell, I’m Resa Warner. You’re the only author I read. And your haircut is remarkable. I love all those messy layers of honey blond.”

  Karlyn pushed a hand through it. “It’s actually starting to get a little long. Logan tells me you have your own salon. Since I’m staying in town for the near future, I’ll need to book an appointment with you.”

  “You do that, hon. And who is this young man? I must say your hair is impeccable. Resa Logan. Hair stylist, in case you hadn’t figured it out by now.”

  Chris extended his hand. “Chris Stevenson, ma’am. And credit Warren Newlin with my hair. I haven’t had a bad hair day since Warren took over.”

  Resa brightened. “The Warren Newlin? His last book on blow-outs opened my eyes. The tresses of Walton Springs owe a lot to Mr. Newlin’s influence on my work.”

  Resa turned and introduced her son to Chris. Karlyn added in, “Chris is a screenwriter and my collaborator on my first attempt at a screenplay.”

  The stranger stepped up. “Nice to meet you, Karlyn. Chris. I’m Brad Patterson, Logan’s partner in crime. Or I guess in solving crimes. I called to see how your mother was doing, and she was kind enough to invite me to dinner tonight.”

  Karlyn caught Logan’s eye roll and stifled a smile. She made a mental note to ask him about Brad.

  The group adjourned to a large, oak-paneled dining room. No shortage of laughter occurred. Chris told a handful of Hollywood stories of stars on the set and their tantrums. Martha added her own twist with anecdotes from the literary world. Mitchell Warner entertained the group with tales of camping trips that went awry, while Resa caught up Martha and Karlyn up on local town gossip.

  Over coffee and dessert, Logan spoke up.

  “I’d like to run something by you.” He shifted in his chair. Karlyn could see he was unsure where to start.

  “Spill it, Logan,” Brad chided him. They probably already know if they’ve gassed up at Casey’s the last couple of days.”

  Logan sighed. “I was afraid of that.” He sat a little taller. “I’m planning to run for police chief in the upcoming May election.”

  Resa beamed her approval. “I think you’d make a fine chief, sweetie. And you have big city experience that Seth Berger doesn’t have. I’m sure he’s your main competition.”

  “Berger’s no competition,” Mitchell Warner noted. “He’s a nondescript paper-pusher. Logan here knows how to solve cases. He’s got the practical experience to back it up.”

  “I need to get five hundred signatures in order to run.” He extracted a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket and looked at his father.

  “I’d be honored, sir, if you were the first registered voter to sign my petition.”

  Karlyn saw the doctor’s eyes mist. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scrawled his signature. He eyed Logan with a bit of mischief in his eyes.

  “I suppose this means I’ll also be the first person you hit up for a campaign donation.”

  His son grinned. “Great idea, Dad!”

  Resa smiled as her husband passed her the pen and petition. “You definitely need a haircut. Citizens in the Springs will want a well-groomed chief.”

  “Does this mean I have to get a manicure, too?”

  Resa laughed. “I’d say yes. If you look good, it’s good advertising for me.”

  Both Brad and Martha signed. Chris and Karlyn apologized that they couldn’t.

  “That’s okay. I’ll hit the square tomorrow for the rest. It’ll have a lot of pedestrian traffic since it’s a Saturday.” He blew out a long breath. “I guess I’m officially in the race.”

  They raised their coffee cups in a toast.

  “If I can keep crime down between now and the election, I think I’ll have a good chance,” Logan declared.

  “That’s if we can keep the Rainbow Murders out of the Springs,” Brad muttered.

  Chris shivered. “Those are some pretty violent murders. Everywhere I go, that’s all people are talking about.”

  Karlyn frowned. “Rainbow Murders. I’ve been busy writing lately and haven’t caught much news. Feed me some details.”

  Chris explained. “They started about five months ago in downtown Atlanta. A couple a month since then. They’ve taken place in various parts of the city, but the last one occurred in Mortonville. First time a Rainbow Murder occurred outside the city limits, in a suburb north of the city.”

  “That’s only about twenty minutes from here,” Karlyn remarked. “I passed through it on my way here. Why are they called the Rainbow Murders?”

  “After killing his victims, he paints them from head to toe in a solid color of the rainbow,” Logan added. “Cops nicknamed him Roy G. Biv because he’s stuck with that order—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.”

  “The pattern wasn’t obvious till after the third murder,” Brad said. “He completed the cycle of seven murders and then started repeating the colors with a new set of murders.”

  “Who are the victims? And why hasn’t this gotten more press?” Karlyn asked. “I’m surprised the media isn’t all over this. They love it lurid and violent.”

  “The mayor of Atlanta has tried to keep it quiet. They don’t want people to panic as they did with the Atlanta child murders years ago.” Logan sighed. “And there’s no profile victim. He’s killed an elderly widow. Two gay men. A hooker and a lawyer. Then an accountant and a plumber. You name it. Roy’s victims are a hodgepodge of people.”

  Karlyn thought a moment. “You know, John Grisham did a non-fiction book about murder in Oklahoma. I would love to sink my teeth into something like that. Maybe I should write about this Rainbow Killer.”

  “Don’t do it,” Logan warned. “We don’t know who this guy is, much less why he does it. You get involved, and it raises the profile of the entire case. Hell, you could even wind up as a victim yourself, Karlyn.”

  Chris added, “And you’ve got the screenplay to finish. Dabble with Roy later. If then.”

  “You’re also three-quarters through a new stand-alone, dear,” her mother reminded her. “No time to get involved in these grisly murders.”

  Karlyn disagreed, but she wasn’t finding any support around the table. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Anyone need a refill?”

  She rose to get the coffeepot, but as she walked to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think how much Roy G. Biv intrigued her.

  Chapter 15

  The minute he saw her, he knew she had to be Yellow.

  He’d done a black teacher in Atlanta. Retired. Had kids and grandkids. Feisty for a woman on Social Security.

  But Jeanine was forty years younger. White. An elementary art teacher in his new hunting ground—Fountain Valley. A specimen he couldn’t resist. He’d watched her for weeks. Knew in his gut that this strawberry blond was the next one.

  Bumping into her at the grocery store had been genius. He gave his sheepish smile and struck up a conversation, pretending not to know the difference between a melon and cantaloupe. She helped him. Teased a little with him. Rewarded him with a genuine smile. Was at a point wh
ere he knew she wanted him to ask for her number, so he pretended he got a call and excused himself. Noted her disappointment as he hustled from the market.

  Now she was a bit tipsy from drinks with a few friends. She’d remained behind to hit the restroom. He knew her car. He knew her house. He knew everything about her.

  And how good she was going to look in all yellow.

  She exited the restaurant. Headed for her car. He’d parked next to her. Just before she approached, he stepped from a doorway and stood next to his car. Watched her approach. Saw her do a double take. Let a smile escape as their eyes met. He’d feed her a line about being stood up by a blind date. How embarrassed he was. How he was still hungry. Ask her if she was. Suggest to her that they get a pizza—no melons involved.

  She’d laugh. He’d nudge her some. Make her think going back to her place and having pizza delivered was her idea.

  They’d eat. Drink a little wine.

  Then he’d have the time of his life.

  Jeanine? Not so much.

  Chapter 16

  “What do you think?” Karlyn asked.

  “You nailed it.” Chris wrapped her in a bear hug. “Matt pops off the page. The dialogue is crisp. Pacing’s terrific. The studio will want more. This has sequel—no, series—written all over it.”

  She sighed. “And it only took a week. Your suggestions had me pouring words onto the page. I wouldn’t have completed this without you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You’re a dream to work with, Karlyn. Organized. Original ideas.” He laughed. “And you listened to my suggestions. You wouldn’t believe the screenplays I’ve tried to punch up with the writer fighting me tooth and nail.”

  Karlyn inserted the flash drive into her laptop. “I’ll save it and email it to Alicia. She’s a fast reader and eager to get this. We’ll have her feedback by this time tomorrow.”