An Equal Measure of Murder

by B. T. Lord

  For the first time, Maud raised her eyes and looked at him. “The truth is, we don’t know what to think.”

  Her answer left him bewildered. Were they trying to tell him, in a roundabout way, that their nephew’s girlfriend wasn’t all there mentally? Had they sent for him simply to humor her?

  He had no choice but to withhold judgment. Until he met this Cammie and heard her story, he needed to remain open-minded, regardless of what Glenn and Maud believed.

  He heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the backstairs. A moment later, Glenn appeared, closely followed by a tall woman and an even taller man.

  “Cammie, Jace, this is Deputy Ellis Martin. Ellis, this is Cammie Farnsworth and my nephew, Jace Northcott.”

  Ellis stepped forward and shook Jace’s hand. He liked the handsome young man’s firm handshake and the way he looked Ellis in the eye without the usual nervous reaction people had when they met an officer of the law for the first time.

  He wasn’t sure what to expect after Maud’s cryptic comment. As he shook hands with Cammie, he did a quick assessment. She was attractive, with curly auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked unusually thin beneath her fishermen’s sweater and there were dark circles under her hazel eyes. But her expression was sharply intelligent, and he was slightly surprised to realize that, as he studied her, she was in turn studying him.

  “Thank you for coming out,” she said. Like her boyfriend, her handshake was firm and no nonsense. “Why don’t we sit down in the library? I’m sure Maud wouldn’t appreciate us being in her way.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, she was already walking out the door.

  A woman accustomed to being in charge.

  He had no choice but to follow. Jace took up the rear.

  The three silently walked through the dining room and lobby and into the wood paneled library. Cammie sat down at the nearest table, with Jace taking a seat next to her. As soon as Ellis slid into the chair opposite her, she asked, “So, were you told I’m off my rocker?” He glanced at her in surprise. She chuckled. “I suppose if I were in Glenn and Maud’s shoes, I’d think I was nuts too.” Her expression abruptly turned serious as she looked at him. “But I’m not.”

  Ellis sat back in his chair and quietly regarded her. “I’ve been on this island for almost an hour and I still have no idea why I’m here.”

  “I saw a murder being committed yesterday.”

  Ellis frowned. Hell, she really was delusional. Here she was, telling him she’d seen a murder as calmly as if she were telling him she’d seen a seagull on the beach. Any sane person would have been at the very least upset to witness the taking of a human life.

  “A murder?” he asked slowly.

  She nodded. “I was out on the bluff yesterday when the storm came in. I saw a boat out beyond the surf. It caught my attention because no one in their right mind should have been out there. I stood watching it for a few minutes and that’s when I saw a body being thrown overboard.”

  Ellis’ eyes widened in astonishment. “Are you sure it wasn’t a lobster trap or a net they were either hauling in or throwing out? The sea has a way of playing tricks, especially in such bad weather.”

  “How long have you been a deputy?” she asked.

  He blinked at the sudden change in the conversation. Her tone wasn’t rude or offensive. But her steady gaze and matter of fact manner intrigued him. If she was truly delusional, she was doing a great job of hiding it. “I’ve been on the job for six months.”

  “And before that?”

  “I was NCIS for fifteen years.” Naval Criminal Investigative Service. He saw she was impressed. “Is there a particular reason you needed to know that?”

  For the first time, Jace broke into the discussion. “Deputy Martin, Cammie is the elected Sheriff of Clarke County, Maine.”

  Ellis managed to hide his surprise. “Your aunt and uncle neglected to tell me that.”

  “It’s because they don’t know.”

  Before Ellis could ask why, Cammie said, “I spent ten years in homicide in Seattle, three years as a private investigator in Boston and the last two years as Sheriff. Jace and I aren’t telling you this in an effort to impress you with my credentials, or to try and take over your investigation. We’re sharing this with you because it proves I know a body when I see one.”

  As if he needed additional proof that what she was saying was the truth, she reached into her pocket and took out her ID. Flipping it open, she showed him her badge.

  “I guess you would,” he answered, realizing that his first impression of her had been spot on. She was definitely a woman who was accustomed to being in charge. And to having her questions answered.

  She is certainly not what I expected.

  “However, I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell Maud and Glenn you’re a sheriff.”

  “I’m not here in any official capacity,” she answered slowly. “No sense making people nervous there’s a cop in town.”

  Ellis knew there was more to it than that. But he could find no justifiable reason to dig deeper. Not yet anyway.

  “So what happened after you saw the body thrown overboard?” he asked.

  “I ran down to the beach, but the storm obstructed my view. As you can imagine, the waves were the size of skyscrapers. I can’t tell you what direction the boat went in, or if it even reached land. As for the body itself, I have no clue if it sank or drifted out to sea.”

  Ellis looked at Jace. “Did you see the boat or the disposal of the body?”

  Jace shook his head. “By the time I reached the cliff, Cammie was already running down to the beach. I was too preoccupied getting down the narrow stairs without breaking my neck to notice much of anything.”

  “May I ask why the two of you were out in such a ferocious storm in the first place?”

  His question was directed at Cammie. He watched her hands, folded on the table in front of her, visibly tighten. “I thought I could get a walk in before the storm arrived. I was wrong.”

  Ellis didn’t need to ask Jace why he’d been out on the bluff as well.

  You were keeping an eye on her. What happened back in Twin Ponds that would make an elected sheriff need someone to babysit her? More importantly, why would a law officer need to keep what she does a secret?

  Ellis noticed Cammie watching him closely, almost waiting for him to scoff at her report. So far, she was the only one to have seen the boat and the body being tossed into the ocean. But there was something about her, something beneath the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide that made him believe her

  “Did you happen to notice if it was a man or a woman in the boat?”

  Cammie shook her head. “Impossible to tell. They were dressed in a yellow slicker with the hood pulled down.”

  “Do you remember any details about the boat itself?”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know much about boats. It looked to be your average pleasure craft.” She paused. “I did notice that the person who dumped the body overboard didn’t seem to have too much trouble doing it. The boat was being tossed about pretty violently, yet they didn’t need to stand to haul the body over the side.”

  “So it was either a very strong man or woman.”

  Cammie gave him a lopsided smile. “That narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

  “We’ve got fishermen of both sexes on these islands. It’s not a job for the weak and feeble.” He met her eye and matched her joking smile. “So yes, it does narrow it down.”

  Ellis took out his notebook and jotted down everything Cammie told him, including the time she saw the incident. When he was done writing, he flipped shut the book and shoved it into his pocket.

  “Whoever it was had to be pretty desperate to risk capsizing and drowning to dispose of a body,” he noted. “They probably assumed the risks were worth it. Lacking a corpse, it’s harder to pin the murder on the killer.”

  “Would the body have been swept out to sea?”
Cammie asked.

  “Depends on the currents. I’ll cruise around the islands to see if it washed ashore. There are still parts that remain uninhabited, so we can’t depend on the locals seeing anything if it came up in those areas.” He paused, then asked, “You know I need to ask why the Northcott think you’re off your rocker.”

  He watched as Jace reached over and covered her hand with his.

  Cammie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just finished an investigation that didn’t end well,” she answered in a tight voice. She slowly raised her eyes until they met his. He saw the pain in her gaze. He could only guess what the trauma Maud mentioned was. But he’d been in law enforcement long enough to know there was usually one case that got under your skin and wouldn’t let go. In time, you learned to work around the agony. But you never forgot. He’d had such a case himself. It was why he was now deputy on a group of remote, godforsaken islands.

  “Why do you want to know?” she continued.

  “Because I don’t want to invite someone onto my boat to help me search if they’re crazy.”

  Cammie blinked at him. Then she unexpectedly threw her head back and laughed.

  Before he could stop himself, Ellis thought, I think I’m going to enjoy working with her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rick’s hands shook when he pulled into John Graham’s driveway. He wished he could chalk it up to still feeling a bit hung over from the night before. The truth, however, was more ridiculous. So ridiculous he didn’t even want to acknowledge it. But it was there, staring him in the face. The doubt drenched words needling him.

  This is my first test as acting sheriff. What if I blow it?

  Emmy had called to tell him he was needed ASAP out at the Graham property. All she knew was that John Graham had found something he needed Rick to see. On the drive over, he’d tried to figure out what this something could be. Maybe it was an old revolver found up in the attic. Or maybe it was buried treasure, left by one of the original loggers who’d had their camp out this way.

  Whatever it was, John was adamant that Rick get out there as quickly as he could.

  He’d grown up with John and knew he was one of those men who wasn’t much of a talker. When he did speak, people paid attention. The fact that he was insisting Rick drive over as fast as he could didn’t give the deputy the warm and fuzzies.

  Damn. Cammie wasn’t even gone a week and he was already facing the potential of investigating something that could very well be over his head. He tried to calm himself with the knowledge that if he needed help, he could call in the Houlton authorities. Or he could pick up the phone and contact Cammie.

  Neither sat well with him.

  Of course, it could be one of those situations where John thought it was worse than it was. What was potentially explosive to a lay person could just be routine to a law enforcement officer. Like finding an ancient revolver in the attic. Or stumbling onto a pack of coyotes in your backyard sizing you up for breakfast.

  Although John was far from the hysterical type, those last thoughts still managed to calm him down. He pulled into the driveway of the dark red colored Cape Cod and shut off the engine. As he climbed out of his vehicle, he saw the front door open and John step out.

  John Graham was the same age as Rick. He was shorter and chunkier than the deputy, his coloring showing his Irish roots. They’d gone to school together, but their paths diverged when John went on to a trade school to become an electrician, married his high school sweetheart and settled down as a father to three boys. They saw each other around town and occasionally shared a beer at Zee’s Bar and Grille, but John’s life was as far away from Rick’s as the moon.

  “Hey John,” Rick greeted as they shook hands. “Got the message you needed me out here ASAP. Everything okay?”

  “You tell me,” John answered enigmatically. Rick raised an eyebrow and was about to ask him to elaborate further when John turned and began to walk away. “I think it’s best if you see it for yourself.”

  Long accustomed to John’s abruptness, Rick followed him to the back of the house. As soon as he arrived, he’d heard the incessant barking of the family dog coming from inside the house. Now that he was entering the property, the beagle’s baying became more pronounced.

  As they entered a gate that led into the backyard, Rick noticed the fenced in area strewn with toys, bicycles and scooters. They had to maneuver their way around the playthings as they walked across the grass.

  “You don’t want to give me some kind of a clue?” Rick asked as he barely avoided tripping over a baseball glove.

  “Nope. Rather you see it without any input from me.”

  John led them to the far corner of the property where an ancient, weather-beaten shed stood, precariously leaning to the right. Rick hesitated at the threshold, convinced it would collapse on top of him once he stepped inside. John though had no problem entering. He pushed open the door and flicked on the switch. The light was feeble, throwing off more shadows than illuminating the interior. Rick stuck his head inside and looked about.

  “You sure it’s safe to come in?”

  “Pretty much.” Rick threw him a look. “What I want to show you is over here.”

  “Maybe you can bring it out here. The light’s better.”

  “I don’t want the wife or kids to see it.”

  Rick continued to hesitate. Scanning the small, slightly claustrophobic area, he was disgusted to see spider webs hanging from the ceiling. There were boxes neatly stacked in the far corner, but from what he could see, it looked as though they’d had been chewed on by God knows what kind of rodent. If he had to guess, he’d say the last time the shed was cleaned out was just after the American Civil War.

  Twin Ponds’ new acting sheriff hated rats, mice, dust and every insect known to man. He especially hated spiders. The last thing he wanted was to smudge his jacket with dirt or mouse droppings. He especially didn’t want any spiders dropping down on him. Just the thought of all this dust staining his newly cleaned uniform, or having a spider skitter down his collar gave him the heebie jeebies. Ready to tell John hell would freeze over before he took one step inside the dilapidated shack, he suddenly remembered why he couldn’t refuse. This was his first call as acting sheriff. How was it going to look if he refused to get dust on his jacket? Or went ballistic because he stepped in mouse shit? Damn. He had no choice but to suck it up.

  Keeping a wary eye on the webs above his head, he willed himself to enter.

  John was standing against the opposite wall. At his feet Rick could just make out a hole in the dirt floor. “This shed has been on the property since we bought the place. As you can tell, it’s in need of some major work. My wife has been after me to get to it. She’s afraid it’s going to collapse on one of the kids one of these days. This morning I decided to take a look and see what needed to be done. I removed a table that was here, and I found that the ground beneath it had caved in a bit. I was worried that maybe some snakes had made a nest.”

  Rick’s eyes widened as he quickly scanned the floor around his feet. “Did you find any?” he gulped.

  “No. But I found this.”

  He reached up to a shelf where the table had once stood and took down a square metal box. He brought it under the lightbulb and placed it on the floor.

  “Looks like a strong box,” Rick observed.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The deputy took out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on. He then knelt down and carefully examined the box.

  “There was a lock on it that I had to break,’ John continued. He ruefully rubbed his chin. “I hate to admit it, but I let my imagination get away from me. I was convinced I’d found a box filled with cash, or stock certificates that would make me a rich man.”

  “I thought you made good coin as an electrician.”

  “I do. But with three kids, it doesn’t hurt to have a bit more.”

  “So, did you hit the lottery?” Rick joked. He
swallowed his chuckle when he saw the pained look on John’s face.

  “Take a look for yourself.”

  Puzzled, Rick withdrew the flashlight from his police belt and handed it to John. “Do me a favor and shine the light on the box. I can’t see squat in here.” John flicked on the flashlight, sending much needed light to the box. Rick lifted the top and peered inside. His stomach clenched when he saw a pink baby blanket. He jerked his head up and stared at John.

  “Go on,” the man whispered. “There’s more.”

  Rick’s mind raced with dozens of unthinkable possibilities. Worse, he was again consumed by a mounting fear that he wouldn’t be able to handle what he was about to see. He didn’t have the stomach to deal with any kind of violence done to children, women or animals. What if what was in the box overwhelmed him? What if he couldn’t deal with it?

  His first impulse was to slam the box shut. He could always call in Forensics and have them open it. By the look on John’s face, he knew that whatever was beneath the blanket wasn’t going to be something as harmless as an old toy or a lost love letter. That would have been too easy.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt John’s gaze on him. He felt the spiders’ beady little eyes watching him. He felt the weight of the job on his shoulders. He was the voice of authority here, whether he liked it or not.

  He had to man up.

  Forcing himself to act, he leaned forward and slowly peeled back the blanket. Beneath it, there lay what looked like a faded black piece of leather. When Rick unwrapped that, he swallowed a gasp.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Now you know why I didn’t want you opening the box outside,” John said.

  The two men stared down at a hatchet lying atop the leather. Its blade was rusty. But the dried blood and chunks of hair still clinging to the metal was unmistakable.

  Later, Rick would be surprised at how part of his brain immediately shut off. Thankfully, it was the part that was full of fear and doubt. The professional police officer swooped in and took over.