An Ear for Murder Read online

  An Ear for Murder

  A Sara Baron Tuned In Mystery

  by

  Diane Weiner

  This book is dedicated to Laura Grigull for all her help, support and enthusiasm.

  Chapter 1

  Sara Baron’s head ached from the stuffy heat inside the rental car and the thought of lying to her parents. Hoping the night air might ease the throbbing, she searched for the automatic window button while paying more attention to the road than she felt she should have to. Did I pack aspirin in my purse? It didn’t matter. Her Coach bag had toppled over in a heap under the dashboard, out of her reach.

  She exited the New York Thruway and snaked up the icy mountain road, creeping past road signs warning of deer and falling rocks. Her stomach growled, still set to San Francisco time.

  The car slipped as if driving across a hockey rink. The frigid night air wasn’t helping her headache as she’d hoped. As she raised the window, blinding headlights headed straight toward her.

  She screeched on the brakes, forgetting that was not the thing to do when driving on ice. The car went into a skid. She felt the seat belt yank her back against the seat. Glass shattered. Metal scraped metal. Her heart thumped against her chest.

  Time moved like newly tapped maple syrup as she unclenched her fingers one by one from their death grip around the steering wheel. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. In and out. You’re safe now. What just happened? That truck slammed right into me!

  She stared at the truck in front of her windshield. She stormed out of the car, pulse throbbing like a metronome, as a man in a puffy parka and bright ski cap exited the cab and strode toward her.

  “Why didn’t you watch where you were going! You weren’t even in your own lane!”

  Sara’s anger welled like magma. “Me? It was your fault. You hit me!”

  “What were you doing? Putting on mascara? Texting? Checking Instagram?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m calling the police.”

  “Don’t bother. I already did. You broke my headlight.” He pointed to shards of glass on the ground.

  She pointed to her rental. “Headlight? Half my front bumper looks like an accordion.”

  “Rental car, huh?” He kicked the front wheel. “No snow tires. You should’ve taken an airport shuttle.”

  “And you should go back to the cave you came out of.” Her anger was about to erupt when… Whoa! From around the bend, a car whizzed by, avoiding the vehicles but aiming right at Sara. She felt a strong arm yank her out of the car’s path. “Where’s the fire?” she shouted after the driver, who by now had disappeared around the curve of the mountain. She regained her breath and heart rate for the second time that evening.

  “You okay?” asked Parka man.

  “I’m fine. Just a bit shaken.” His expressive brown eyes momentarily softened.

  Momentarily. For half a second.

  “He’s a worse driver than you are. I wish I’d gotten the plate number, or at least a decent description.”

  “It was a dark blue, Buick Le Sabre. Late model. I can write down the plate number. Oh, and I think he’s got a hole in his radiator.”

  “You saw a hole? In the radiator? In the dark?”

  “Heard, not saw. You didn’t hear the high pitched whine as the car approached us?”

  He shook his head. She knew he’d underestimated her. Jerk.

  He walked around his truck, then bent down and inspected her bumper. “We don’t have to go through insurance. There’s a body shop in town…”

  “Right next to the Greek diner. I know.” She knew because it was the only one in town. “I grew up here.” The thought of her insurance premiums rising made her stomach churn. She was already stressed about covering her bills. “Yeah, okay. We can go over in the morning.” She headed back to her car.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Dark road. Girl alone with a stranger, crippled car. She’d seen enough crime shows to where her neck hairs stood on end.

  She swallowed, then stood up tall. “The police will be here any minute.”

  “No, I didn’t really call them.”

  “I’ve got a gun in my pocket,” she lied.

  “Sure you do. I need your name and contact info. In case you’re a no show tomorrow.” He retrieved a pad and pen from his truck.

  “Sara Baron.” She scribbled down her info and demanded the same from him. He shoved a business card into her hand. Travis Jennings, Physical Therapist. “If you’re a no show, I’m calling the police and my insurance company.” She got back in the car, praying it would start up. It did. She pulled away first, shaking her head.

  Putting on mascara. Who does that in the car? Instagram? Do I look like I’m twelve? Jerk.

  She passed the diner, the mom and pop bookstore, and the hardware store that gave the Home Depot the next town over a run for its money.

  Stay awake, Sara. With the adrenaline rush gone, her eyes felt like lead curtains. She opened the window an inch. Almost home.

  Her phone vibrated.

  “Mom? I’ll be there soon. I’m fine, just a bit of traffic. No, I’m not angry. Ten minutes max. Start the coffee. Yes, I’m alone. I’ve got to go; my phone is dying.” Patience, Sara. Breathe in, breathe out.

  Did I stuff the Excedrin in there? She felt for the black case next to her, glad she’d secured it with the passenger seatbelt. Recalling the mascara comment, she stopped herself from pawing through it with one hand while steering with the other. She continued down the familiar road and soon arrived at the brick split-level in which she’d been raised.

  The hand-painted mailbox at the end of the driveway read Patty and Bob Baron. The front door flung open before she could turn off the engine. Her mother, in shirtsleeves, ran down the driveway.

  “Sara, honey! I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Sara heard the excitement in her mom’s voice, saw the sparkle in her sea-blue eyes, and smelled the faint scent of Ivory soap as her mom embraced her with a bear hug. She’d needed this many times in the past months.

  “Mom, what are you doing out here without a coat? Go back inside. You’re going to get sick.”

  Her mother stepped back and looked at the rental. “Sara, what happened? What happened to the car?”

  “It’s nothing. Just a fender bender.”

  “Are you hurt? I’m going to bring you to the emergency room.”

  “No, I’m okay. You should see the other guy.” Her attempt at humor fell flat.

  Sara’s father, a few pounds heavier than the last time she was home, caught up to them. He bent down to examine the car. “What happened to your bumper?”

  “Fender bender.” It didn’t look as bad as she’d initially thought. “Let’s go inside. You have any food? I’m starving.”

  Bob Baron pushed up his bifocals and circled the car. Seeming satisfied, he said, “I’ll grab your bags. Pop open the trunk.” She gave him a kiss, getting a whiff of Old Spice. “Leave them. It’s freezing out here. Let’s get inside.” She hugged the black case beneath her jacket and grabbed her purse from the car floor. Home, sweet home.

  The afghan-covered floral sofa and worn leather recliner were exactly where they were the last time she’d visited, the magazine rack still stuffed with old issues of Reader’s Digest. A log crackled in the fireplace.

  “I smell cookies.” She’d eat cardboard about now just to soak up the gurgling acid in her stomach.

  “Your favorite. Gingerbread. Come, grab a plate,” said her mom. “I’ll pour you some milk.”

  “So, how’s work?” asked her dad. “I heard your orchestra play Mahler’s Fourth on the radio the other day. You sounded good.”

  “I had a couple of good reeds. Had
. Past tense. This cold weather will be the death of them. While I’m home, can you replace my sticky octave key?”

  “Of course, but you know how to do it.”

  “Where’s Grandpa?”

  “He turned in early.”

  “Does he have any clue we’re planning his birthday party?”

  “I don’t think so. Don’t go letting it slip.”

  “I came across the country for this. My lips are sealed.”

  Sara’s mom put a second plate of cookies on the table. Like Sara, she was girl-next-door pretty, with honey-brown hair and a wide smile.

  “I ran into Jessie the other day. He’s put on some muscle. He’s not the skinny kid he was back in high school and he’s making good money as a plumber.”

  “Is there such a thing as making bad money? Mom, I haven’t talked to him since the senior prom. How’s your new job?”

  Her father cleared his throat. “Your mom got Employee of the Month.”

  “Wow! Congratulations.”

  “That police station would be upside down without me managing it.” Her eyes twinkled. “Such a sweet group of boys. And that Detective Lambert …easy on the eyes. Smart too. You’d like him.”

  “I’m glad it’s working out. If anyone knows a thing or two about being organized, it’s you. Have you heard from Scott?”

  “He’s not loving being stationed in the middle of a desert. Who would? I hope his tour goes by quickly, that’s all I can say.”

  “I miss him.”

  “We all do.” Her dad stood up. “I’ll go get your bags.”

  “Wait, Dad.”

  “I put a new quilt on the bed, and if you need an extra blanket, there’s one on the closet shelf. Oh, and I bought a new down comforter at the church craft fair last week.” Her mom started for the stairs. “We’ve been meaning to replace the faded pink wallpaper in your room. Maybe after Christmas.”

  “Mom, I’m not staying here.”

  Her mother stopped in her tracks. “Why not?”

  “I’m house-sitting for Ellie. She left for London yesterday and asked me to babysit her cat. I thought I told you on the phone.”

  “But, we were looking forward to you staying here.” Her mom sounded like a whiny toddler.

  Her dad cleared his throat. “You can bring the cat here.”

  “With Grandpa’s allergies? I can’t do that to him. I’ll be right around the corner. You’ll see plenty of me.”

  “You’ll only be here for a few weeks.”

  She put her arm around her mother’s shoulder. “We can go do some shopping tomorrow. Have you bought the decorations yet?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I have to work.”

  “Then over the weekend. I’d better go. I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up about now. I’ll come by the shop in the morning, Dad. And, Mom, are you making lasagna anytime soon?”

  She smiled. “Got the ingredients waiting for you. Come by for dinner tomorrow.”

  Sara kissed them goodbye. “See you tomorrow.” Thankfully, Ellie’s house was only five minutes away. Sara wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed under a fluffy warm comforter. She pulled her car into a driveway lightly glazed with recent ice. In her headlights, she could see how much the yellow aluminum siding had faded since she’d last visited. The street was dark, with the exception of a light in the window of the house next door.

  She grabbed her bags and trudged up the porch steps, her back and neck aching from the long plane ride and hours spent driving. Her hand was acting up. Gripping the bag was an effort. She bent down and picked up the tattered welcome mat and retrieved the key. Fumbling with her gloved fingers, she inserted it into the lock, but the door pushed open with a gentle jiggle of the knob. Ellie had always been the one to carry mace and keep the car doors locked when driving. Why had she left for Europe without triple checking that she’d locked up the house?

  Sara put down her bags and barely stopped herself from tripping over something. She flicked on the hall light. What’s the coat rack doing on the floor? While odd, she assumed it had toppled under the weight of the winter jackets still clinging to the hooks. She proceeded to turn on the living room lamp. Overturned couch cushions, books littering the floor—she felt panic wash over her.

  “Ellie? Are you here?” She didn’t expect an answer. Ellie was supposed to have left for Europe yesterday. “Ellie?” Maybe she’s upstairs.

  The stairs creaked with each step. She checked the bathroom. The contents of the medicine cabinet had spilled into the sink and onto the tile floor. The hair on the back of her neck tingled.

  She saw light shining through the bottom of the master bedroom door. She gently pushed it open.

  “Ellie!” she screamed. Ellie was on the floor, face down.

  Sara bent down and prayed she’d hear breathing. “Ellie!” She couldn’t bring herself to touch her, afraid of feeling a cold body. Nothing. No movement. No breath. “Oh my God!”

  Chapter 2

  Phone. Where’s my phone? In my purse. Downstairs. Reluctant to leave Ellie’s side, she reached for the old fashioned rotary on the nightstand. Dead. Probably hadn’t been connected since Ellie’s parents lived here. No choice but to run downstairs.

  Sara rummaged through her bag. When she finally found what she was looking for, her heart sank. Dead. The long trip had taxed the battery to its max. Why hadn’t she packed the portable charger?

  She ran outside, subconsciously remembering the light in the window next door and made a beeline for the neighbor’s house.

  “Help! Open the door. It’s an emergency!” She pounded so hard her knuckles hurt.

  A cappuccino-skinned man wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a faded, holey Seattle Seahawks tee shirt flung open the door.

  “What’s the emergency? I just got to sleep.”

  “It’s…it’s my friend next door. Ellie. I’m supposed to be house sitting. She was supposed to be in Europe. The door. It wasn’t locked. She’s on the floor. She isn’t breathing.”

  “Calm down. Did you call the police?”

  “No. My phone. It’s not charged.”

  He grabbed his phone. She looked at his face for the first time since arriving. Looked into eyes the color of chestnuts. “Not you! You’re the man in the truck.”

  He blinked. “And you’re the twit who skidded on the ice because you were swiping through Instagram.”

  She had no choice. She needed his help. “I…”

  “I know. You’re sorry. Come on. Let’s help Ellie.”

  Infuriated over his smugness, she followed him out the back door and into Ellie’s. “She’s in the bedroom.”

  He flew up the stairs two at a time, and headed directly to the master bedroom. She later wondered how he knew the layout of the house so well.

  In a flash, he was kneeling beside her, putting his ear near her face, his fingers on her wrist. “911, this is an emergency. A woman is dead. Looks like it was a break in. Yes, I’m sure. She isn’t breathing and there’s no pulse. No, I don’t think anyone is still in the house. Okay. Hurry.”

  “Are they sending an ambulance?”

  “Yes. And the police. Did you see or hear anyone else in the house?”

  “I don’t think so. I was focused on Ellie. Besides, if someone was here, they’d have taken off when I went for help.”

  “Did you see a vehicle in the driveway? Or pass one speeding away?”

  “No. Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Remember the car that whizzed by almost killing us earlier? The Buick?”

  “Shortly after you crashed into my truck.”

  “Yeah, after you slammed into my car. I think I heard it. The high-pitched whine…I’m almost certain it was the same car.”

  “This could have happened hours ago.”

  “Why would anyone try to hurt Ellie? She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to leave yesterday.”

  “If someone knew she was plannin
g on being away, maybe this was a robbery gone bad. You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

  “I turned on the lights. I grabbed the bedside phone. Why?”

  “Fingerprints, DNA. Leads for the police to follow.”

  She paced back and forth. There was a carry-on bag on the bed, and a laundry basket with folded clothes. I’ll bet she was packing for her trip. But a carry-on? For an extended trip? And she told me she was leaving yesterday.

  “He must have been waiting here for her.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “She hadn’t turned around. She was hit from behind. Looks like she was in the process of packing. And the drapes right there by the nightstand are messed up. I’ll bet he was hiding there.” She pointed to the other set of drapes. “See how those others are neatly tied back?”

  “Maybe she was just too preoccupied with packing to worry about the drapes. What’s taking the police so long?”

  “Neither the station nor the community hospital is around the corner, plus the roads are slick. They’re careful. They wouldn’t risk skidding on the ice by speeding, right?”

  Jerk. With a capital J. “There’s no murder weapon.”

  “Maybe he took it with him. Why leave evidence behind?”

  “Her jewelry is lying on the dresser, and her purse is on the bed. It wasn’t a robbery gone bad.”

  “Pure conjecture.”

  “When the police get here, you’ll see I’m right.” She wiped her eyes. “You knew Ellie?”

  “Yeah. Obviously, we were neighbors. I’d see her outside shoveling the walk or getting the mail. Didn’t know her well. I’ve only lived here less than a year.”

  “Where did you move from?”

  He hesitated. “The Chicago area.”

  Fueled by adrenaline, Sara paced back and forth. Her legs felt like Jell-O. She’d never seen a dead body before. Even at the few funerals she’d attended, she could never bring herself to peer into the casket. This was Ellie, her friend. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that her friend was…dead.

  “Where’s the ambulance? What’s taking so long?”