Killer in the Band

by Lauren Carr

  Slowly, J.J. lifted his head. Instead of looking at her, he stared straight ahead. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “But—”

  “He’s going to tell me that Suellen’s dead.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Next Morning

  The day after the murder, the barnyard at the Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards was filled with vehicles from the West Virginia State Police and the Hancock County sheriff’s department. Since Suellen Russell had been in a relationship with the son of Hancock County’s prosecuting attorney, Sheriff Sawyer had called in the State Police to take the lead on the murder investigation in order to avoid any appearance of a possible cover-up—even though J.J. had an ironclad alibi.

  Cameron was surprised to find the barn door open when she arrived at the farm to take a look at the crime scene. Then she reminded herself that the farm animals needed to be fed and cared for even though their owner had been brutally murdered. Climbing out of her cruiser, she looked out across the pasture to where Captain Blackbeard was grazing. He lifted his head and looked back at her.

  She thought his eyes looked sad, although she could’ve been imagining that. The whole barnyard seemed to be eerily quiet. It was as if the animals were also in mourning.

  “I swear, you’re worse than a child,” Poppy said in the barn. “You should know better than to go around showing off like that.”

  Who is she talking to? Cameron made her way into the barn.

  “Who do you think you are? Captain Blackbeard?”

  In the center alleyway between the first group of stalls, Gulliver, loosely tethered to one of the posts outside his stall, was chomping away on a bale of hay. On the other side of the hay bale, Comanche, who was untethered, was also eating. Their heads were side by side. Apparently chaperoning the two horses, Charley was resting on the same bale of hay.

  Sitting on a footstool near Gulliver’s shoulders, Poppy chattered away as she bandaged up one of the horse’s front legs with gauze and a bandage that she had taken from a large medical box. She had her long red hair in a French braid that spilled down over one shoulder.

  Seeing the trainer and her horse together, Cameron noticed an almost familial resemblance between the two. Poppy’s sleeveless tank top allowed Cameron to see that her freckles did not stop at her face. They were liberally splashed across both shoulders and down her arms.

  An Appaloosa, Gulliver had chestnut-colored spots all over his white body. His mane and tail matched his brown markings. Izzy had told Cameron that he was a leopard Appaloosa. Cameron was struck by how Poppy’s freckles and Gulliver’s spots seemed to match.

  “It isn’t like you have to impress Comanche,” Poppy said to the horse. “She likes you just the way you are. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be in here now. Girls are more attracted to boys who aren’t afraid to be themselves—quirks and all.” Patting the bandage, she sat up straight to check her work. “How does that feel? Better?”

  Gulliver answered by lifting his foot up and then snapping it down. Then he reached back to thank Poppy by nuzzling the top of her head.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re quite the Dr. Dolittle,” Cameron said.

  Even though her back was to the detective, Poppy did not appear to be surprised that she was there. Without turning around, she said, “You’d be surprised by what you pick up on when you pay attention. Over the years I’ve spent working with horses, I’ve learned from the vets how to do just about everything short of surgery.” She stood up from the stool and detached Gulliver’s lead. “In one place I was training horses, a dog got shot by a nasty neighbor.” With Gulliver following her, she went over to the barn door that led out into the pasture and gestured for the two horses to return to the field. “It was a Sunday, and the vet’s office was closed. Nearest emergency vet was over an hour away. I removed the bullet and treated him. He completely recovered.” She closed the barn door, but not before a calico kitten scampered through it. Seeing the baby cat, she picked it up and let it lick her chin. “How’s J.J.?”

  “Devastated.” Cameron reached out to stroke the kitten. “The police are still looking for the suspect, and even Clyde has disappeared. I hope he didn’t catch up with the killer and get himself killed.”

  Poppy cocked her head. “They don’t really suspect Noah, do they?”

  “They will until we can clear him as a suspect.” Through the barn door that led out into the barnyard, Cameron saw two forensics officers carrying their sample cases trot out of the house. “I haven’t seen the scene yet—”

  “They won’t let anyone inside. My overnight bag is in there because I spent the night while J.J. was gone. They won’t even let me get that.”

  “Well, I have a ticket that’ll allow me inside.” Cameron placed her hand on the police shield clipped to her belt. “I’ll see what I can do.” After stroking the kitten one last time, she went outside and walked toward the main house.

  She mentally prepared herself for the upcoming meeting with Lillian Cross, a detective with the West Virginia state police whom Cameron did not like at all.

  A tall, buxom blonde, Lillian Cross could only be described as a “bombshell.” Cameron could tolerate the fact that she knew she was good-looking and flaunted it by flirting with every male she encountered. While that behavior was totally unprofessional, it didn’t bother Cameron. But what she found difficult to tolerate was watching Lillian mentally undress Joshua, her husband, every time he was in the room.

  The night before must have been like a double feature for Lillian. At the Thornton home, she’d questioned J.J., and Joshua had given his son moral and legal support during the interview. The detective had subtly smiled and tried to mask her erotic fantasies under the guise of professional observation as she’d looked J.J., who’d been fighting to keep his grief under control, up and down.

  When she was finished, Lillian had slipped her business card into J.J.’s hand and demurely said, “In case you need anything.”

  Cameron had felt sick.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Lillian said to Cameron, who had ducked under the police tape spread across the front walkway.

  “I told you last night that I was coming,” Cameron said.

  “I meant I’m surprised to see you here alone.” Lillian looked out across the barnyard toward Cameron’s cruiser. “I expected your handsome husband to come with you. Isn’t like him to not want to get his hands on such a sexy case.”

  Tugging on her evidence gloves, Cameron brushed past her and crossed through the foyer and into the living room. “J.J. needs him more. Besides, as I told you yesterday, this perp might have murdered the victim in one of my cases eight months ago.”

  “Did you discuss that case with J.J.?”

  Cameron stopped in the doorway. The bloodbath in the room unnerved her. She sucked in a deep breath before answering her fellow detective. “No.”

  There was that smirk that so annoyed Cameron. “But you did discuss it with Joshua, J.J’s father.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Had a talk with Suellen Russell’s lawyer this morning.” Lillian paused for dramatic effect. “Remember last night, when J.J. claimed that he’d been caring for Suellen out of pure love and that he hadn’t expected to be compensated for his time…and affection?”

  “I don’t like—”

  “Suellen recently changed her will.” Lillian looked up and around the luxurious house and farm around them. “All of this is now his.”

  “She has a stepson,” Cameron said. “I assumed—”

  “Obviously, J.J. offered her more of an”—she cleared her throat—“incentive than her stepson did. She didn’t disown the stepson completely. She left him her portion of his father’s company and their estate in Philadelphia. But this”—she pointed to the floor—“one of the largest dairy farm a
nd orchards in the Ohio Valley, she left to Joshua Thornton Jr.”

  “J.J. was with me when Suellen was killed,” Cameron said. “We were half a state away.”

  “Maybe he paid someone to do it for him and to make the scene look like Monica Brady’s murder—since he knows that you haven’t been able to catch that culprit.” She narrowed her eyes. “I did notice that last night, even after the woman he supposedly loved—”

  “He did love Suellen!”

  “Did you notice how vehemently he defended Noah when I said that we were looking for him? Why did he do that?”

  “He feels sorry for Noah,” Cameron said. “He’s a kid, and he has no one.”

  “And it was J.J. who suggested that he be promoted from the orchards and that he come here to assist Poppy with training the horses.”

  “It wasn’t a promotion,” Cameron said.

  “I’d rather work with the horses in an air-conditioned barn than trudge around out in the heat picking fruit out of trees. Wouldn’t you?” Lillian lowered her voice. “I wonder how much J.J. paid Noah.”

  “Have you even talked to Tad MacMillan?” Cameron asked. “Suellen was dying. She had less than three months—”

  “Yes, I have talked to Tad,” Lillian said. “He did tell me that Suellen was dying and that it was not going to be a pleasant death. I’m sure J.J. thought he was doing her a favor when he arranged all of this and used you to establish an alibi. But it’s still murder.”

  “I’m not going to let you railroad J.J. into jail for something he had nothing to do with. Understand?” She tossed her head in the direction of the blood-stained living room. “May I?”’

  “Forensics is done,” Lillian said. “Knock yourself out. I’m going to go find Noah. I’m sure Joshua told you all about my magic touch when it comes to turning suspects against each other.”

  As she watched the detective strut out of the front door, Cameron wanted to yank every strand of her long blond hair out of her head. It wasn’t until she was out of sight that Cameron remembered the valise that she had tucked under her arm. She had tucked the Monica Brady case file in it so that she could share her notes with her colleague from West Virginia. She was no longer inclined to do that.

  I really should. She fingered the edges of the folder. Okay, I will—later.

  Taking the folder out of the bag, Cameron crossed the threshold into the living room. Once again taking note of all of the blood on the floor and across the sofa and the wall, she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. Most of the blood was Suellen’s. She had come to like Suellen. Her love for J.J. was not totally sexual, as Joshua had assumed it was years before.

  They had shared something special.

  But due to the circumstances of Suellen’s death and the windfall that she had passed on to J.J., Lillian Cross was going to twist and spin their relationship into something sick and perverted.

  With a sense of determination, Cameron placed the open folder on top of the grand piano and spread out the crime-scene pictures of Monica Brady’s murder. The forensics investigators had collected the glass that had littered the floor from one end of the Suellen’s living room to the other. Luckily, Joshua had been thinking quickly. He had taken pictures of the scene of Suellen’s murder with his cell phone, and had sent them to Cameron so that she could compare them to those of Monica’s murder.

  After taking out her tablet, Cameron brought up the pictures Joshua had taken and set the tablet on top of the piano next to a picture of the bedroom where Clyde’s wife had been strangled.

  Looking from one to the other and then back again, Cameron was struck by the similarities between the two.

  The broken dresser mirror in the bedroom.

  The shattered antique mirror in Suellen’s living room.

  There was broken glass in every room of the house.

  Clyde claimed that Monica had been cheating on him and that he’d found pictures of her with another man.

  “No. It can’t be.”

  The buzzing of her cell phone made Cameron jump, and she fumbled when she tried to take it out of the case on her belt. “Gates here.”

  “Detective Gates,” the officer at the Pennsylvania state police barracks said. “You put a BOLO out on Vincent Brady? Well, the feds picked him up in Youngstown, Ohio, this morning.”

  “The feds?”

  “Yeah,” the officer said. “Your suspect had joined up with a multistate burglary ring that got busted this morning.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Joshua’s expression betrayed a sliver of hope that Cameron was pulling his leg about Suellen’s will. When Cameron, who had been recounting her morning with the detective who was investigating Suellen’s murder, shook her head, he slumped over the kitchen counter.

  Cameron had stopped at home to have an early lunch before going to meet with Vinnie Brady at the jail in Youngstown.

  “J.J. didn’t know?”

  Joshua shook his head. “No idea. He was worried about what was going to happen to the farm. He told me that Suellen’s stepson would most likely sell it to a developer. He was upset about the workers and Poppy and the horses and—he has no idea that she’d changed her will.”

  “Try proving that to Lillian.”

  “Of course Lillian suspects J.J. Do you know how much that farm is worth? If he weren’t my son, I’d suspect him.”

  “So what now? Are you going to keep an eye on him so that he doesn’t escape, or are you going to protect him?” After taking a package of sliced turkey out of the fridge, Cameron closed the refrigerator door and took a loaf of whole-wheat bread from the bread box.

  “Protect him, of course.” Joshua watched Cameron place two slices of turkey between two slices of bread and proceed to eat it completely plain—with no butter, mayonnaise, lettuce, or even chips to accompany it. He figured that she was craving an easy meal rather than that meal specifically. “He’s completely broken up about this.”

  “Of course he is,” she said. “Before, he knew that it was coming and had time to prepare—”

  “You can never be prepared—no matter how much of a heads-up you have. I wish Murphy were here.” In response to the question in her eyes, he said, “Murphy and J.J. have always leaned on each other. He’d know what to say—”

  “Can’t Murphy’s CO get word to him?”

  Joshua shook his head. “He’s on a mission with a communication blackout. Hopefully, he’ll get word in time to come home for Suellen’s funeral.”

  “Well”—Cameron reached for his hand—“I think right now, J.J. needs his dad more. You’ve been through this. Murphy hasn’t.”

  With a nod of his head, Joshua swallowed. “Any sign of Clyde Brady?”

  “I checked with Sheriff Sawyer,” she said. “No one has seen or heard from him. There are two cruisers waiting for him at his farm. One from West Virginia. The other from Pennsylvania. The neighbors say they haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”

  “The murder was only yesterday,” Joshua said.

  “So where was he the day before that?” Cameron asked. “Also, Noah seems to be in the wind, which does not look good for him or for J.J.”

  The solemn quiet of the large house was broken by Admiral’s deep bark. Then, when the doorbell rang, the huge dog galloped down the hallway.

  “We have company,” Joshua said, stating the obvious.

  He was halfway to the foyer when Izzy raced down the stairs from her bedroom. “It’s Poppy!” One would have thought they were being visited by the latest pop star.

  Joshua yanked open the door to greet the horse trainer, who had Irving in her arms. She was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and riding boots and had a cowboy hat on her head.

  With a dreamy expression on his face, Irving was relishing the vigorous petting and loudly purring.

  “I see you’ve met our watch cat,
” Joshua said.

  Izzy stepped forward to take Irving out of Poppy’s arms, which allowed Admiral to jump up to lick the trainer’s face—something the huge dog had never done before. It was only because of her sheer strength that the petite young woman didn’t collapse under his weight before Joshua and Cameron managed to pull him off of her.

  “I am so sorry,” Joshua said as Cameron and Izzy wiped dog drool off of their visitor’s shirt.

  Poppy waved her hat at them. “Happens to me all the time. I send out a nonverbal message to animals that says ‘hug me.’”

  Satisfied that all of the household pets had had a chance to greet her, Poppy held her hat to her chest and explained the reason for her sudden visit. “I’m sorry to disturb you and your family at this time, but I have someone with me who I thought you’d probably want to talk to.”

  Joshua and Cameron looked up and down the wraparound porch. They saw no one but Poppy and Admiral and Irving, who were sniffing the trainer’s pants.

  “He’s hiding in my truck.” Poppy gestured over her shoulder to her truck in the driveway and to Noah, who was crouching in the front passenger’s seat. Seeing them, he slipped down farther.

  Joshua smirked. “You didn’t just find him. You’ve been hiding him. I knew it. You weren’t using the outdoor arena because you were afraid we’d notice him in your camper.”

  “He didn’t kill Suellen,” Poppy said.

  “If he’s done nothing wrong, who’s he hiding from?” Cameron asked.

  “He won’t tell me,” Poppy said in a low voice. “I tried to get him to talk to me but he won’t. I swear, animals make a lot more sense than people. Charley is more logical than Noah is.”

  “That’s saying a lot,” Izzy said. “Everyone knows that Charley’s crazy—even Charley knows it.”

  Joshua had stepped down into the driveway to usher Noah out of the truck and into the house. “I didn’t hurt anyone,” Noah said. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “We’ll talk about this inside.”