Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1) Read online

  Picture Perfect Murder

  Jenna St. James

  Copyright © 2015 by Jenna St. James.

  Published by Jenna St. James

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  I hate looking at dead bodies. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of them in my twenty-eight years. There’s nothing that can prepare you for that first glimpse of death.

  In college, I worked part time at Jaworski Funeral Home. It was one of those small, family-owned businesses. They were great about working around my class schedule. They were even better about including me as family. A few holiday dinners and family gatherings later, and Ryli Jo Sinclair had become an honorary Jaworski.

  For four years I did everything from flower arranging to consoling families. I didn’t deal with the actual prepping of the dead body. But still, a dead body is a dead body as far as I’m concerned.

  Tonight, however, was completely different. This dead body wasn’t neatly arranged in a silk-lined casket. This dead body was spread out over the kitchen table, naked from the waist up, covered in blood, and missing a heart.

  I swallowed, pushing down the bile that rose in my throat. Tonight I was moonlighting as the forensic photographer in my small hometown of Granville, Missouri. Mainly because the newspaper I work for, The Granville Gazette, doesn’t pay me enough money to survive.

  I’ve worked for The Gazette, the one and only newspaper in town, since returning from college six years ago. I graduated with a major in journalism and a minor in photography. A few months later, not only didn’t I have a full-time job, but my college loans were coming due. A few desperate weeks later, my mom called and said The Gazette was looking for a reporter and photographer.

  So now here I am, stuck in the same small town I’d left, writing fluff pieces for people who have made being nosey neighbors an actual art form.

  But I like my job. Since the newspaper is small, I not only write the stories, but I also help with layout, editing, and taking photographs.

  The Granville Police Department also calls me whenever they need a professional. And tonight they definitely needed me.

  “God, what a freaking mess,” Officer Troy Chunsey muttered, holding his hand under his nose.

  I glanced over at Officer Chunsey. Nothing like stating the obvious.

  I graduated with his older sister, Sherrie. She wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist, either. Officer Chunsey was around twenty-four, overweight, and still had a baby face. Although his baby face wasn’t looking too good right now. In fact, it had already turned four different colors since we’d arrived in the bloodied kitchen.

  “If you’re gonna throw up, Chunsey, you’d better do it outside!” Chief Kimble barked.

  Garrett Kimble was our new chief of police for Granville. I say new because he’s only been here for a little over a year. In order not to be new in Granville, you’d have to be born here. Everyone else is considered new in town.

  Kimble came to us from the Kansas City Police Department where he worked for almost eight years after leaving active duty. He has jet-black hair styled short from his military days, and cold blue eyes, also left over from his military days. And did I mention a body that could make a nun weep? I tried staying clear of him when he first came to town…mainly because he makes the spit in my mouth dry up. Whether it’s from sheer terror or sexual frustration, I don’t know, but more and more lately I’ve been thinking of finding out.

  He’s about ten years older than me, give or take a few months. I’ve never really dated an older guy. Hell, who am I kidding, I’ve not really dated a whole lot period; so older, younger, I guess it doesn’t matter.

  Recently I’ve been not so subtle in my advances toward him. I figure it’s better to let him know I’m interested than making him guess. The thing I worry about most is whether or not I can handle a guy like Kimble. There’s no doubt in my mind he could chew me up and spit me out before I even know what happened.

  I looked over at Melvin Collins, the coroner. “Just making the pronouncement. I haven’t really had time to do much else, Chief.”

  “Ryli, get over here with that camera,” Chief Kimble ordered.

  Walking over to him, I carefully averted my eyes from the table. Not so much out of respect, but because I was afraid I was gonna puke. Then he’d be yelling at me instead of Chunsey.

  “Start shooting. Make sure you miss nothing.”

  The body, which was once known as Dr. Vera Garver, stared back at me with empty eyes. I lifted my camera and began shooting. I’d probably taken seven chest shots before I lowered my camera and backed up from the table to really look at her and the crime scene.

  Garver probably weighed one hundred sixty pounds and had shoulder-length brown hair, which was currently covered in blood. Actually, everything was pretty much covered in blood.

  The oak table that housed her body wasn’t really all that big. It was one of those round, kitchen-nook tables. This meant her feet were dangling off the edge. You could tell the chairs had been pushed back quickly because one was toppled over.

  I carefully avoided the blood as best I could and walked away from the body toward the main area of the kitchen. The dark brown granite countertops and stainless steel appliances gleamed under the bright lights of the kitchen.

  The kitchen was pristine except for the two coffee mugs, two plates, and two forks drying on a dish towel beside the sink. Almost like Dr. Garver had been entertaining right before she died.

  This was definitely going to be a hard one to solve. Garver was probably the most hated person in all of Granville. She’d been the superintendent of our local school for almost a decade.

  “You know we’re gonna have to question the whole town, right?” Chunsey said. “Everyone is pretty much a suspect when it comes to who would want her dead.”

  I bit back a chuckle. Just nervous laughter I was sure, since I wasn’t used to dealing with such graphic scenes. Truth was, Chunsey was right for once in his life.

  I didn’t think many people would openly weep for Garver, but I couldn’t really think much of anything because the smell was making me light headed.

  I lifted my camera and walked back toward the body, again avoiding the blood as best I could.

  I glanced down at Garver’s fingers, getting ready to snap a picture of her hands, which were also dangling off the table, when I noticed something odd. I squatted down to get a better look.

  Okay, now I did gag.

  “What’s wrong?” Kimble walked over to the corner of the room where I had quickly retreated, still hunched over, taking deep breaths.

  I didn’t dare say anything for fear of what would come out…or come up. Instead, I just pointed to her hands the best I could from my precarious position. Garrett’s latex-gloved hand reached down and gently lifted Dr. Garver’s right hand. The fatty tips of her fingers had all been cut off.

  I just hate it when that happens.

  Now I did laugh. Hysterical laughter. Never good when you’re trying to be taken seriously.

  Ignoring me, Garrett walked around the table to examine her other hand. Same thing.

  “Guess the gaping hole in her chest made it easy to overlook,” Chunsey muttered.

  Kimble’s eyes cut to the officer then back at me. “Good job catching it,” he said and gave me one of his rare smiles. I
almost felt a little better.

  “Why cut off her fingertips?” I asked after kicking my own ass to get it together. “It’s not like we’d have to ID the body through fingerprints.”

  “Not sure,” Garrett said.

  I walked back over to the table and continued snapping pictures of the body, blocking out the images, and just getting lost in the lighting and angles as best I could.

  I know most folks would think that being a newspaper journalist and working for the police department might be a conflict of interest, but usually there wasn’t anything that interesting to scoop. Besides, like I said, I really needed the extra money. It was nice being able to eat on a regular basis.

  Of course, until tonight, most of my jobs for the police department consisted of photographing vehicular accidents, vandalism, that type of thing. Nothing like this.

  Working with the police department also let me believe I was helping to solve cases. I know I wasn’t really solving them, but a part of me enjoyed putting clues together and coming up with theories. I’ve been able to ask the guys on the squad questions while I shoot pictures, and they usually answer them.

  “I don’t see evidence of a struggle,” I commented, trying to make conversation.

  Stony stare from Kimble.

  “I’m just saying. The house isn’t trashed, and she doesn’t appear to have defensive wounds on her arms or anything.”

  Again, stony stare. “You are snapping pictures…that’s all.”

  Shrugging, I finished up with the body and went into the living room, snapping pictures just in case. It was a newer house with an open-floor concept. You could be in the kitchen and still watch television in the living room. At the far end of the living room there was a desktop computer, flat screen monitor, and multi-use printer.

  Melvin Collins walked back into the room. “I contacted the medical examiner in Brywood. They are expecting the body tonight. Couple days for the autopsy and answers, hopefully.”

  “Where’s the husband?” Garrett asked when he finished with the body.

  Officer Chunsey raised his head off the kitchen counter. “He’s in the formal dining room. Matt took him in there to get him settled down. Husband’s the one that came home and found the body around eleven. Called 911.”

  “Pretty late night for Mr. Garver, isn’t it?” Garrett asked.

  “This is Thursday night,” I volunteered. Since Garrett just raised his eyebrow at me, I figured I’d better elaborate. “Professor Garver teaches English at a local college over in Brywood. Everyone knows that Thursday night is his long night. He has class from six to ten.”

  “Everyone knows?” Garrett said.

  “Yeah. It’s a small town, in case you forgot.” Even to my own ears I sounded defensive. But it was true. The Professor had been teaching that class on Thursday nights for about nine years. He was pretty much a staple. If you wanted to take his class, and you wanted to take it at night, you had to take it on Thursday nights. It was the only night class he had.

  “I haven’t forgotten.” I could tell by the way Garrett was glaring at me I hadn’t heard the end of it. “So he ends class at ten, stays around and gets his papers in order, maybe talks to a student, walks out to his car, then drives home. It’s about a thirty-minute drive over to Brywood, so that could put him home around eleven. Comes in, sees the body, calls 911. Gives him a nice, solid alibi.”

  I never did know when to keep my mouth shut. “Please, you don’t really think that Professor Garver is capable of this, do you?” I gestured my hand vaguely in the area of Vera Garver’s body. I still wasn’t fully capable of looking at it without gagging.

  “Well, Ms. Sinclair, if not her husband, who do you think we should be looking at? Please enlighten me with one of your theories.” I could tell he was pretty pissed, especially since he used my last name. As soon as Garrett starts using my last name, I know I’ve pushed enough and it’s time to shut up. So I took the easy way out and shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, seeing as how I’m still the acting chief of police around here, perhaps I’ll go in and talk to Professor Garver just the same.” He paused and gave me a heated look. “And when you’re finished, just wait for me in my office at the station. I’m sure I won’t be much longer than you.”

  Damn. I was in big trouble. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut around him? Probably because he made me so nervous I just couldn’t help myself. Now I was going to get chewed out by Hardass Kimble himself. Nothing like a long night of taking bloody pictures and topping it off with an ass chewing.

  Truth is, Garrett's never raised his voice to me personally, but I’ve heard him chew out others enough to know it could be brutal.

  Half an hour later I finished off my last roll of film. I took plenty of pictures because after my run-in with Kimble, I didn’t want to take any chances of not getting everything possible. Plus, a few of the other guys on the squad were willing to whisper their theories to me. But mainly, I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to fire me. Packing up my gear, I decided to snoop and find out where everyone was.

  I walked down the short, spacious hallway that led away from the kitchen and living room. There were several framed pictures lining the two walls. I paused to look at them. Most were of the two adult Garver kids, a boy and a girl, and a granddaughter. I actually felt a twinge of pity for Dr. Garver. She’d never be able to see her family again.

  At the end of the hallway on the right was the guest bathroom. Hearing voices, I turned left and caught my breath. The spacious room consisted of the formal living and dining room. It had vaulted ceilings and over-sized casement windows all around the room, giving it a bright, airy feeling. The walls were painted a light beige, and the large crown molding throughout the room made it pop. I absolutely loved this room.

  I looked in and saw Professor Garver sitting on a tan, leather couch, a handkerchief dabbing at his eyes. Kimble was sitting directly across from him in a matching leather chair. My big brother, Matt, was sitting next to Professor Garver. He must have sensed my presence like only siblings can because he slowly turned his head and smiled at me.

  Matt works as an EMT and part-time firefighter for Granville. He lives in a nice two-story house off Main Street, which he bought about six months ago. I was kind of surprised he'd bought it since he already had a place in town he owned. His purchase was a perk for me, because now he lets me live in his old house.

  Matt has been seeing my best friend, Paige, for almost a year now, and neither of us can figure out why he hasn’t popped the question. Paige currently lives in a tiny trailer on her parents’ land. She helps out at their farm doing the books for her dad and helping her mom when needed. It’s a large farm, so she’s busy most days.

  Paige has been in love with Matt since elementary school. Matt was four years older than us, and Paige was my best friend…needless to say he didn't look twice at her. When he joined the Army, Paige took it almost as hard as I did. She wrote to him in boot camp and then later when he was overseas in Afghanistan. When he’d come home on leave for a few weeks, Paige was always certain he’d ask her out, but he never did. When he finally got out of the military after serving eight years, he decided to live in Kansas City. Paige eventually woke up to the fact that Matt wasn’t going to be her happily ever after.

  Little did we know what was really going on with Matt. I found out later that the reason he chose to stay in Kansas City was because he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. And until he got help, he didn’t believe he could come back to Granville.

  Kansas City was also where Matt first met Kimble. They were both at a veterans’ function, and Matt said it was because of Kimble’s help that he was able to get through what he needed to and move on with his life.

  When the chief of police position came open in Granville, Matt made sure Kimble knew about it and was instrumental in getting his name pushed through. One of the many perks of personally knowing the mayor and city manager in a small town.


  Matt met my eyes across the room and gave me a slight nod. I could tell he was taking this hard. Matt was that way. He had a gentle heart underneath his tough exterior. I like to think he got that from our dad. I don’t know for sure considering I was just a baby when our dad died in a single-car collision. But my mom always described him as a gentle giant.

  I listened to Kimble ask Professor Garver a few questions, but the truth was he didn’t seem to know anything. So I decided to head to the station to drop off my film.

  I shut the front door of the Garver house and walked briskly to my car. Not so much from the cool October air, but because I was still more shaken than I cared to admit.

  I’d parked my car behind the three other vehicles already in the long, curved driveway. The house was about fifty yards from the street, which was also deserted this late at night.

  The Garvers technically lived in town, but it was on the outskirts of town, so it had a country feel. The nearest neighbor was probably a quarter of a mile away, and the driveway was lined on both sides with shrubs that were taller than me.

  The oak tree in the front yard and all the tall shrubs surrounding the house definitely provided plenty of shade…but also plenty of protection from an intruder being seen.

  I flung the camera bag into the backseat of my Civic and started the car. I’d gotten the Civic my senior year of high school, and it was slightly used then. Needless to say, it’s about on its last leg. But she’s a good car so I haven’t really felt the need for anything else. Who am I kidding, I couldn’t afford anything else right now...but it was still a good lie to tell myself.

  * * *

  I pulled into the police station and turned off my car. It was pitch black outside, and it looked even darker inside the station. Usually the darkness didn’t bother me, but after what I’d seen tonight, I was more than a little creeped out. Putting on my big-girl panties, I opened the door and took out the camera bag. I rifled through my keychain until I came up with the key to get into the station. Claire, the dispatcher for the graveyard shift, should be inside. All I had to do was make it inside before I peed my pants out of fear. Running the last few feet to the door, I unlocked it as fast as my shaking fingers allowed and pushed it open.