Ruled A Suicide

By Andie Alexander

After breaking into a home for food, homeless single mother Ellie Blackwood stares at the dead homeowner lying under a Christmas tree. She’s trying to remain anonymous, but knows she’s also seen the murderer.

She and her half Native American daughter are almost at the end of their rope. Ellie could sell her information to make money to eat, but she'll pay a steep price if the U.S. government finds out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andie Alexander
• Release date: Jul 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452416014

Andie Alexander

Andie writes mysteries and adventures, and also writes as all the author names on SweetTaleBooks.com. Writing is escapism, at its finest.See more at http://www.AndieAlexander.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

I couldn't breathe. I had to remain anonymous.

My heart fluttered to what felt like a stop as I stared at the dead man in front of me. The body positioned under the Christmas tree oozed blood all over the carpeted floor near his feet, while the dead man's right hand held a gun. Upon closer inspection, I recognized him as the owner to the house. The picture window for the room would allow anyone walking on the street to look inside, but they may not see the body behind the tree.

As I gazed at the full length of the body, I noticed a note tied to the dead man's leg by a red bow. 'He got too close and others will pay,' it read in big black letters. The bow was clean of blood, as was the white note. It must have been tied after he'd died or there would've been blood splatter on the note near most of the other blood, I'd surmise.

My stomach fell, realizing what was in front of me. This man had been murdered, because no one could write a note for themselves then tie it after they died. Besides that, most of the blood was near the guy's feet and not near his head, unless it'd bled out underneath. Regardless, that was some impossible feat.

To think I was standing at the murder scene caused me to panic.

I was in deep trouble if my fingerprints were anywhere in the house. I had to get out, because I'd sort of broken in and would be a prime suspect, if they had my prints on file. I didn't think anyone did, but from my past, someone could've gotten them from anywhere, just in case.

I'd been so sure the place was empty before I entered the home, strolling right past the body without noticing. It didn't even strike me as odd that the tree lights and a small lamp were on, yet no one was home. The murderer must've been the person leaving the house before I came inside. It wasn't the owner, like I'd surmised, because he was dead on the floor.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I was a witness and the cops would want to talk to me, even if they ruled me out as a suspect.

I didn't want to be found. I couldn't be found. My life and the life of my daughter depended on it.

A loaf of bread and a bottle of cold medicine in my hand reminded me of my true mission. I ran to the door, covered my empty hand with my torn sleeve, and wiped the doorknob clean. It wasn't the same door the killer had gone through, so I didn't feel too badly for damaging fingerprints.

I racked my brain, trying to remember. Did I touch anything else in the house?

The medicine cabinet and the breadbox.

I ran to the bathroom and wiped the mirrored cabinet door clean, then headed into the kitchen and did the same for the breadbox. When I was satisfied my fingerprints were gone, I left by the side door, wiped the outside doorknob and edge of the door, and searched for witnesses. No one was nearby, so I ran to the curb and waited for two cars to pass. As soon as it was safe, I crossed the road and approached my young daughter, Kaya, sitting on an old couch in an alley.

Yes, we were two of the many homeless in Phoenix.

Mama, is that you? She was my three-year old half-Navajo daughter. In the darkness of the night in the alleyway, I could barely make out her dark tan skin, black hair, and blue eyes. She got the blue eyes from me, as odd as that sounded, but she didn't get my blonde hair.

Yes, Kaya, it's me. I have to make a phone call. Can you stay here for a minute?

She coughed and sneezed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Sure.

I handed her the loaf of bread and dug deep into the cushions of the couch, searching for one of my only possessions, my change purse. Once found, I opened it, able to see only coins, and retrieved enough change to call the police if the operator required it. There was still a phone box close to our couch home, which was probably one of the only ones left in the state.

Kaya dug into the bread, sniffled a little as she ate, and coughed again. I grabbed an almost empty jug of water and tipped it to her mouth. She was sick, the poor thing, and it was winter. Even though it was the Southwest, the nights were cold for homeless people.

I kissed her forehead and walked around the corner, lit by the streetlamp, while keeping a vigil for anyone nearby. After depositing some coins, I dialed for help with my threadbare sleeve over my hand.

Emergency, some woman said. How can I help you?

I lowered my voice as much as I could. I'm at 2105 Puma Street. I was out for a walk and saw a dead guy under a Christmas tree in his front living room. I looked around yet again. I was still alone.

What's your name? the woman asked.

I don't want involved. I hung up the phone and checked to see if any change returned. It didn't, which was the story of my life. I sighed, knowing I'd spent some of my last bit of money, with barely enough cash left to buy clean drinking water. Maybe tomorrow would be a better begging day.

I ran back to Kaya, who'd eaten all but three of the pieces of bread. While guessing at the amount she needed for her weight, I poured some of the medication into the attached plastic cup and made her drink it, along with a sip of water.

Yucky, she said, grimacing.

You need it. We're going to get you better then we can figure out where to go next. I don't think this is a safe place anymore.

Why?

No reason you need to worry about. I sat down, pulled her to my lap, and covered her with the one blanket we'd saved. Now get some sleep.

Thanks, Mama.

I kissed her forehead. Thinking back to what I'd just seen, I had to stay calm, but the terror of it all made me shake on the inside. If the killer saw me, he might return. There was no way I'd be able to sleep. I had to protect Kaya and myself.

Every night, I prayed we'd find a way out of the current mess, but every morning, the full weight of being homeless hit me square in the face when the sun came up.

As I looked up, a dark figure walked toward us, making my heart race. However, I could tell from the way the person threw their hips that it was a friend and not the murderer. Killers didn't wear skimpy clothes like this person.

Hey, Louise, I said. The sirens sounded from a distance, but I tried to ignore it.

Hey, Ellie. Anything new?

Yep. I tried not to sound scared and didn't want to alert Kaya, so I spelled it out. A D-E-A-D B-O-D-Y is in that house over there. I pointed, almost able to make out Louise's surprise in the darkness of the alley.

Are you sure?

Yep. Called the cops.

Louise sat beside me. Did you see anything? she whispered.

I glanced down at Kaya, sucking her thumb and almost asleep. Yes. I was getting bread and cold syrup and it was obvious.

Did anyone see you?

I shook my head. I hope not. I saw the guy, too, I think.

The killer? she whispered.

Yep. Where were you?

I had a job over on sixth. It paid good too. Louise was a prostitute with a heart of gold. As a pretty black woman, she had short black hair and brown eyes, was short and slightly overweight. She had fun with her clients, so she had many repeats. When she wasn't working, she took care of Kaya and me, even though I had no way to repay her.

The sounds of the sirens got closer. They'd be on Puma Street in downtown Phoenix in a few minutes.

Guess we have a movie to watch tonight, she whispered, looking out of the alley and across the street. It's better than the usual bum channel, huh?

We both chuckled. I was still spooked by the thought of the dead guy across the street, but Louise always made everything better, no matter how terrible it was.

Six police cars skidded to a stop on the street in front of us, lighting up the sky in blue and red, their sirens stopping before they got to the scene. While Kaya seemed to sleep through the commotion, Louise and I watched the cops work. From the way my couch was situated down an alley, they couldn't see us. It was fortunate, because we had to stay hidden. If they found me, they'd make life miserable for us and would take Kaya away from me. I'd lived that fact for almost a year, so I knew how to hide.

Across the street, one of the officers knocked on the dead guy's door, then looked into the front picture window with his hands shielding the sides of his face. I could hear some of what they were saying while Louise and I kept as quiet as possible.

The main cop turned to another guy, standing behind the cop's car. A light and the tree are lit inside, but there's no way anyone could see that body without knowing it was here. Think it was the murderer who called it in?

Could be. The other guy looked up and down the street. Do you see any homeless? Sometimes they know things.

No, they're useless witnesses. They're all either drunk or crazy.

Louise and I glanced toward each other and chuckled. Yes, we were the invisible population. It was as if we could see them but they couldn't see us, thinking we were alcoholics or insane. Louise and I were neither of those things. We could've told them many things, if we wanted to. But I had to stay anonymous and Louise respected that.

One of the officers kicked in the door while other emergency vehicles drove to the house. They worked the crime scene, with people going in and out. Eventually, they wrapped yellow tape around the perimeter of the building. Some reporters showed up, standing behind the tape.

Many people went in, more lights were turned on, and flashes from a camera lit the inside of the home. I just hoped none of my fingerprints would be found, even if they didn't have my prints on file for comparison.

What happened? Louise asked, glancing down at my sleeping daughter.

I broke in to get some cold medicine and bread because I thought no one was home, even though the side door was unlocked. When I was leaving, I saw the guy's feet sticking out from under the Christmas tree. His leg had a note attached to it by a red bow that said, 'He got too close and others will pay.' Blood was all over his leg, but not on the note, which means it was attached after he was shot in the head. Why most of the blood was there and not as close to his head was anyone's guess.

He was moved. Think it'll be ruled a suicide? Louise laughed. We both knew the scoop about the medical examiner ruling murders as suicides, just so they didn't have to do any extra work.

Appears so. It was so quiet in the house. With the low lighting, I didn't notice the body until I was ready to leave. I would've missed it if I didn't just happen to see the tree. I stopped and stared, remembering Christmas as a kid. We used to put our tree up right after Thanksgiving, too. Kaya would never know the thrill of Christmas, making me sad. But I had to focus on the crime and not dwell on things that couldn't be real for my daughter. When I called emergency, I said I saw it from the street, hoping it was true. The place was all bloody, but after shooting him, they definitely moved him and tied the note to his leg. There's no way he shot himself while he was lying under that tree. He couldn't have been standing because he'd have knocked the tree over when he fell, considering his position. I'm sure the dead guy is the owner. I could see his face and familiar mustache.

Did he have the gun in his hand?

Yes. And it was up to his head, too. It was weird and I felt like an intruder.

Louise leaned closer. Did you leave any prints?

I wiped them all off so I couldn't be found.

I understand. She glanced down at Kaya. I can't blame you, either. We were quiet for a moment. You said you saw the killer. What did he look like?

Before I went in, I heard someone talking loudly. I figured the owner was on the phone because there was only one voice. The other guy must be a quiet one who knows how to stay in the background. The loud man sounded like the guy who lived there, from what I'd heard in the past. I didn't hear any shot, even though I was beside the outside wall, just waiting for him to leave. All of a sudden, the place went silent. It was quiet for quite a while before someone walked out the door, closed it, and limped away. He was in a dark outfit—dark coat, dark pants, and dark gloves. I figured the owner was just out for a walk and would return, because the inside light and tree lights were on. That's why I had to hurry.

Gloves. No prints. Professional job, I bet.

Yep.

Did you say limped? she asked.

Yeah. Weird, huh? Why would a murderer limp? You'd think he'd get out of the business if he couldn't run away.

Yeah. But she didn't offer any more insight.

I looked out at the city lights over the building across the street. Way above the immediate area of red and blue lights sat a tall building that had me thinking. You know, I bet someone would pay a bunch of money for this information.

That's the name of the game, Ellie. I'm sure you could make a bundle with just what you've seen. If I were the murderer, I'd pay to keep you quiet.

Yeah, or kill me.

That too.

We were silent for a while.

I sighed, thinking it through. I needed money for Kaya, and my mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to keep her alive. You know, there are other people who would pay for that information, too.

You mean like a snitch for the police?

No, because that would be a one-time deal. I mean a steady paycheck. I moved my eyes toward my friend, thinking it through. What about an investigative reporter? Could I do that job?

You and those big words, she said, laughing. What's that?

Someone who digs deep into a story. I used to type and I know I can write. When I worked at that car dealership, I had to write up ads for the cars, making them sound like they were the dream car for any owner, when in fact they barely had four bald tires.

Louise was quiet for a moment. I have an idea of how to help you. She was definitely smiling as she stood. I'm going to make you my pet project.

Pet project?

Yep. Me and tons of my friends. Sister, you're going to be employed tomorrow, and be able to afford to give that baby girl of yours some decent medical treatment. You may even be able to afford an apartment or a house or something.

What are you thinking? I'm homeless. No one hires the homeless. They're invisible, remember?

Not you.

But I have to stay invisible, I whispered. Remember?

She leaned down and patted my arm. Trust me. She straightened up and sashayed away, singing an old hymn from my childhood days.

I had to hand it to her. For being a prostitute, she certainly had a proper upbringing and almost had morals. It was odd. Never in my wildest dreams growing up would I ever have guessed I'd be homeless and best friends with hookers. But life had a way of twisting and turning, with problems just around the bend.

I had to figure a way out of my situation, but I wanted to do it on my own and legally. Since we'd been forced to the streets, I'd refused to be a prostitute, so Kaya and I begged for change instead. Some days we'd make nothing, but when the tourists came to town, it picked up. One day I made close to fifty dollars, wishing I could do that every day. We stored all the money away in the couch cushions, never knowing when I'd need the cash. With Christmas coming, there weren't many people walking on our street, so all of our money had to last as long as possible.

A screeching noise made me turn back toward the house. EMTs carried the body to a waiting ambulance, the back door screeching as they pulled it farther open. What a shame for the homeowner to be killed. I'd been watching his house for a while and observed the dead guy kiss his wife goodbye at the front door earlier in the day. I overheard their conversation—not because I was nosey—but because the street was so quiet at the time. The wife was headed on a business trip to Europe, but would be back before Christmas. They seemed happy, with a very lengthy kiss. It made me miss being married with a home and a warm bed, even though my marriage hadn't even been nearly that happy.

The crowds gawking at the scene grew, and one man got closer to our alley. He walked with a limp and stood under the streetlight, smoking a cigarette, just watching from a distance. While taking mental notes, I was certain he was the murderer. He had a tattoo of a weird symbol on his left hand, kind of like an 'X' but more like two half circles meeting to form a black 'X'—black as his heart. He was the man who'd gunned down the victim and had stuffed his body under his own Christmas tree.

I was staring at pure evil.

~~~~~

Chapter 2

Someone shook my arm. I jumped, opening my eyes to sunshine and Louise's smiling face as she stood in front of me.

Time to get up for work, she said.

Work? I looked down at Kaya, asleep on my lap. She snored and coughed, stuffed up with a cold.

Louise chuckled. Yes, ma'am. My people have been working all night to get you ready for your new job. Remember? In-something reporter?

I waved her off. That was just the ramblings of late night. I can't do that job. I don't even have a résumé.

Louise pulled a piece of paper from behind her back. You do now.

I couldn't believe it, as I took it from her hand. The typed piece of paper had my name and address at the top—the address of my couch—and various jobs I'd never do in a million years. But—

No one ever reads résumés, she said. Your references are at the bottom of the page, too, so you won't even have to worry about making up a name of someone you don't know.

They were very formal names, ones I'd never seen before. I glanced up at her. Who are they?

Dead guys from the cemetery. It doesn't matter. They never check those either. She sat down and touched my hair. We're going to make you into a blonde bombshell and no man will question you. You're an insipid reporter.

You mean investigative reporter. I grinned. Insipid means dull and boring.

Louise laughed. Yeah. You're right.

I looked down at my holey shirt and pants, filthy from months of wear. I can't go like this.

We know that. She checked her watch. In five minutes, Mr. Morning will be going into a motel room around the corner, and you're going to get a shower, shave those legs, and get dressed. We got you a new blue low-cut number with extreme wow factor, and it'll be in the bathroom for you in a bag.

Got? You mean stole?

No, I mean I don't know how the three knuckleheads did it, but they got you some duds—complete with pantyhose.

Unbelievable. These people really did pull together last night for me. Terry, Jerry, and Ralph? They're like 90 years old. How?

It's their gift to you.

They're nice guys and all, but do you think they even know my size?

Louise pulled my shirt out to the side. It's not tough. Extra-small with frills. And your shoe size is a six. I checked while you were asleep.

I looked down at my foot, my holey sneaker still tied. Unbelievable. Kaya stuck her thumb into her mouth, trying to breathe and suck at the same time. She's really burning up. Do you think I could put her into the shower to cool her off?

I'll do it after Mr. Morning leaves. She doesn't need to see anything.

I handed her off to Louise. Thanks. I owe you quite a few for this.

No, you don't. I get to spend time with her and that's always fun.

Kaya opened her eyes. Mama? she whispered at me, and coughed.

Good morning. How do you feel?

Pretty awful.

My goal was to make my baby well again, so I had to be tough. This job thing might just work. I have to go away this morning but Louise will get you a shower after I'm gone.

What's a shower?

She didn't remember because she hadn't had a bath for a while. It's like rain.

Where are you going? Her face was so innocent, making me feel guilty for being an awful mother. That just might change, though, if this worked out.

To see if I can get a job so we can get some money, I said. Is that okay?

Do you need me to beg with you? She coughed again.

I wasn't just an awful mother, I was a terrible loser mother, teaching her to beg and giving her a rotten childhood. I really needed a job and a place for us to live.

No, you stay here, I said. You don't feel well and I think I can do this one by myself. Just take a nap then Louise will get you a shower so you can feel better.

Thanks, Mama. She put her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes again.

I addressed my friend and current babysitter, Louise. I'll be back.

She nodded down the sidewalk. Someone will meet you around the corner and tell you where to go.

Thanks. I stood up and headed down the sidewalk. Cold wind blew through my hair, making me cross my arms to stay warm. I had to do this. I had to get us out of the winter air or we'd both probably die.

As soon as I turned the corner, one of Louise's friends, Vicki, met me and pointed at the motel room. Number six.

It was so touching that they'd help me, bringing tears to my eyes. Here were the dregs of society, helping someone even further in the gutter than they were. If they could do it with what little they had, why couldn't everyone else help someone down on their luck?

Thank you so much. I was just about ready to cry at the sentimentality of the situation. All of you.

No problem. It's our pleasure. Vicki handed me the key.

I stepped closer to the room, put the key in the lock, and eased the door open. The couple kissed on the bed while she removed his shirt. Otherwise, they were even clothed.

Who's there? the man said, turning his head.

The woman's name was Jane, a friend of mine as well. She turned his head back toward her. She's just using the shower. She'll be gone in no time.

I want an audience, he demanded. I want to prove I'm a man.

I inched toward the bathroom, but the man pointed his finger right at me. Stay put. I want you to watch.

Sweetie, Jane said. We can do that, but it'll cost ya.

I'll pay. He turned toward me. I want to watch her take a shower, too.

If I have my way, you won't last that long, Jane said, pulling him to her. We'll give you an audience, but it'll cost an extra thousand.

Fine. He stood up and grabbed his wallet. As soon as he handed Jane the cash, she walked to the door, stuck her head out, and whistled for her friends. She chuckled, mumbled something, and Gayle and Vicki walked in and took a seat.

I took a step closer to the shower, feeling guilty for using the room on this guy's dime. But I needed to do something to get a job.

No, her too. He pointed right at me.

As soon as I'm done in here, I said, and moved closer to the bathroom. Gayle nodded while I just winked. I knew he wouldn't care if I were there or not, once Jane had her hooks into him.

Fine, he said. But hurry up. It's getting exciting out here.

Right. I went into the bathroom and saw some bags on the counter. I knew they were for me, so I shed my clothes, turned on the water, grabbed the complimentary soap, razor, and shampoo on the counter, and took a shower. It had been so long since I felt clean, the scent of the shampoo and soap so pretty that I wished I could do this every day.

After shaving my legs, washing my hair, and lathering up, I finished the shower, dried off, and brushed my hair and teeth. Fortunately, I'd had toothbrushes for Kaya and me for the entire time we'd been homeless, and my teeth were already clean.

Amidst screams of ecstasy from the other room, I opened the bag on the counter and pulled out the makeup, clothes, and a brown purse. After getting dressed in the beautiful navy dress and matching heels, I donned the new makeup. The clothes fit better than I thought they would—even the shoes. The three knuckleheads should really become fashion designers because I looked and felt great.

I walked out into the bedroom, where Mr. Morning was smoking a cigarette, lying under the covers beside Jane. We missed you, he said.

Sorry. I couldn't join in because I was filthy. It would've made you sick.

True, but you're hot now. Want to wait an hour and have a go with me alone? I'd pay.

I pulled the empty purse onto my shoulder. No thanks. I have to go to work. I'm trying to get a job today.

Need a reference?

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. A reference from a john? No, but thanks anyway. I slipped out the door and into the sunshine. The whole way back to the couch, I lifted my head higher, feeling as if I could take on the world.

Louise whistled as soon as she saw me. Holy smokes, you clean up nice! Wait till Terry, Jerry, and Ralph see you.

Thanks. My daughter was lying on her lap, sucking her thumb. What'll I do with Kaya while I'm trying to get a job?

I'll keep an eye on her, Louise said. I'm off duty anyway, and have my cell phone if I need you. The newspaper office is a few blocks that way. As she pointed, I followed her stare past the murder house. Take this. You need to read it on the way. She handed me the résumé and the newspaper, and a quarter from the couch. That's in case you need to use a pay phone. I hope they still take quarters. Considering it was most of