“Hmm.” The agent tapped her finger on my desk. “And your other friend, Vanessa? What happened with her?”
“Oh, she decided to stay a bit longer. I know she took an Uber home later that evening because she texted me when she arrived home.”
“And when was that?”
“Um, just after one in the morning, if I remember correctly.”
“Did Vanessa tell you how the rest of her evening went?”
“No. But as I said, it was after one, and I was already in bed. I didn’t think to ask her how her evening went.”
“It’s a bit unusual, though, isn’t it? Leaving a female friend alone at a bar?”
I felt my shoulders tense, “I asked Vanessa if she wanted to leave, but she said she liked the band that was playing that night, and she didn’t get a lot of opportunities to cut loose. She stayed. So, no, I wouldn’t say it was such an unusual thing to do.”
“And your other friend, Anne Marie? That name is familiar. She works here, doesn’t she?”
“She does. She works at the spa.”
“And you said she was feeling ill? You said you arrived at nine, and by eleven she was feeling ill. That was right around the time Mr. McMurphy arrived at Rascal’s, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. She left just before he arrived at our table.”
Agent Riley nodded. “And where did you go when you decided to leave Rascal’s?”
“Annie, Anne Marie, and I took an Uber home. The driver dropped Anne Marie off first, and then me.”
“And what did you do once you arrived home?”
“I got ready for bed. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and changed.”
“And when was this?”
“Around eleven-thirty, I guess. Maybe a bit later. Right after I arrived home. Rascal’s isn’t that far from where I live,” I explained. Was Agent Riley really interested in my whereabouts on Friday night?
“And you were still awake when your friend Vanessa texted you after one in the morning?”
“I was. I was having trouble sleeping.”
Agent Riley remained quiet for a moment. She kept her eyes glued to me as if she was waiting for me to add something to my account of what happened Friday night. I had nothing else to add. Then, she spoke.
“Right. And if I told you that Mr. McMurphy was not alone in his suite that night?”
I shrugged. I didn’t make a practice of checking on who our guests invited to their rooms. Also, from what Tony told me, it wouldn’t surprise me if Crater had a guest in his room. “If Mr. McMurphy invited someone into his suite, I would have no way of knowing that. We don’t keep tabs of what our guests do in their rooms, and I was tucked away in my own bed, Agent Riley.”
“I collected and reviewed the surveillance video footage from the Chalet. Mr. McMurphy returned to the Chalet at approximately twelve-thirty on Saturday morning.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Annie and I had left the nightclub an hour before. We couldn’t possibly be suspects, could we? Also, Tate said he didn’t get back to his tent until around two that morning. Tate had been lost in the woods for hours. I thought that meant there was no way Tate could be a suspect.
Agent Riley continued, “Mr. McMurphy entered the Chalet alone.” Her eyes grew sharper. “I believe that I read in your brochures that housekeeping does a complimentary turn-down service?”
“That’s right. Our housekeeping staff begins to turn down the bedding in our guest suites around six-thirty each evening. Usually, guests are out exploring or having dinner at that time, and they return to an inviting bed and a fancy piece of chocolate from Silver Chocolatiers on their pillow.” I could write a brochure about our services. I know them by heart.
“I imagine the housekeepers straighten the room while they're performing the service?” the agent asked.
“Yes, as long as the guest doesn’t object—presuming the guest is in the suite at the time. The staff person turns down the bed, drops off extra towels, and removes dirty ones, she empties the wastebaskets, and tidies the sitting room.”
“Right. What about the balcony? Do the housekeepers check the balconies during the visit?”
“Um, yeah, they are supposed to. They clean as necessary and they shut and lock the balcony doors before they leave. It’s a safety precaution, really,” I replied, remembering the open patio door in Crater’s room.
“And how long does it take for the housekeeping staff to finish their evening checks?”
“The Chalet only has ten guest suites, so the housekeeping staff usually finishes up by eight-thirty in the evening. Sometimes earlier.”
“As I said, I checked the surveillance footage from the Chalet. Mr. McMurphy returned at twelve-thirty. Ten minutes later, a woman, or at least I think it was a woman, entered the Chalet. Unfortunately, she was covered up pretty well. She was wearing a long coat with a hood and boots. I couldn’t get a good look at her face.”
“She was probably just a guest of the Chalet. We don’t lock the doors to the lobby at night. We have a full staff, and our guests come and go as they please,” I replied, a bit defensively.
“You see, this is what caught my eye.” Agent Riley handed me a photo. Frankly, it was surprising that the agent showed me anything related to the case. “This is the balcony of Mr. McMurphy’s suite. Can you see that?” Agent Riley pointed to a dark mark on the floor by the balcony’s railing. “If a housekeeper had entered the suite between six-thirty and eight-thirty, and cleaned, then that stain must have appeared after your staff left.”
The agent pointed at something in the photo. It was a small dark mark on the patio floor close to the railing. “That is a bloody shoe print—a boot print actually—it’s kind of a small and feminine, don’t you think? Ms. Swift, I think it is safe to say that Crater McMurphy had a guest in his room that night. Wouldn’t you agree? I wonder, where is she now?”
I had no answer for her.
“Also of note, there were a few stains on the railing. Lab tests confirm that the stains were blood—Crater McMurphy’s blood.”
I remained silent, but my mind was working.
Agent Riley stood, “Oh, funny thing. You know that surveillance video? I never saw the woman exit the Chalet. What do you make of that?”
I shrugged. It turned out that I didn’t need to respond because Agent Riley supplied me with her answer.
“I think that the killer was drenched in Jonah McMurphy’s blood, and she couldn’t risk being seen. I think the killer went onto the balcony and lowered herself down to the courtyard below.” I considered the agent’s theory. Crater’s suite was on the second floor. Someone could have climbed off the balcony and lowered herself to the ground if she was strong and knew what she was doing. I am fairly confident I could do it if I tried.
The agent reached into her pocket and extracted a business card. “If you think of anything that might be relevant, I’d appreciate a call.” She handed her card to me.
“I have a question,” I took the card and reviewed the information on it before I spoke again, “Why are you interested in Crater McMurphy’s death? Don’t the local police normally handled cases like this?”
“Cases like this?” Agent Riley frowned. I decided the agent didn’t like me to characterize her cases as ordinary.
“A single murder. Are you here to investigate because Crater McMurphy was a celebrity or is there something about his death that has you interested as a Federal investigator? Why is the FBI interested in Crater McMurphy’s death?”
“I’m not at liberty to say anything other than to tell you that the FBI does, at times, investigate homicides under special circumstances.”
“Special circumstances?” My eyebrows rose. What kind of special circumstances? The agent didn’t offer to clarify what special circumstances led her to investigate Crater McMurphy’s death.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Swift.” Agent Riley stepped out of my office as quietly and abruptly as she arrived.
I looked at
my computer, and began my search: When does the FBI get involved in murder investigations?
An hour or so after Agent Riley left, I found the answer to my question, and I tried to get back to work. I was getting nowhere with my account reconciliations; I was too focused on the murder. My phone rang, and I answered it.
“Mandy, this is Janine at the police station,” the friendly dispatcher said.
“Hi Janine, is everything okay?” I asked. Janine is a family friend, but I rarely received calls from her while she was working at her job. I mostly saw her at town meetings and holiday parties. Given the hour, Janine was probably still at work. I wondered if she was calling me on some ‘official’ level.
Janine spoke to me in a whisper, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jonah McMurphy’s wife strolled into the police station about an hour ago.”
“Wow,” I let out a deep, low breath. “But that makes sense, doesn’t it? She’s the bereaved widow. I’m sure she has a few questions.”
“More than a few, I assure you. But you would think the woman would be in here crying and asking for tissues. Instead, she is ranting and saying how she is going to sue everyone—that’s why I’m calling you—I’m pretty sure she plans to show up at the Chalet at some point. We sidetracked her as long as possible so that she could speak to Agent Riley. They’ve been speaking in Jed’s office for about thirty minutes.”
“Oh no, why would Crater’s wife want to come to the Chalet?”
“I think she wants to see where her husband died,” Janine whispered. “I ask you, is that not the most morbid thing you have ever heard? I mean, maybe if the man had died of a heart attack, but a violent death like that?” I could hear Janine tutting on the other end of the line.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Agent Riley or Jed will allow Mrs. McMurphy inside the suite. It’s a crime scene and it hasn’t been cleaned yet. It’s a pretty disturbing sight.”
“No, that’s the remarkable part, Mandy. Agent Riley asked for our full cooperation. Uh, I need to go. Expect to see them probably tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, Janine.” Well, now I was flustered. Not only was I trying to make sure my friends were safe, but I also had to deal with a tough as nails FBI agent, and possibly an angry bereaved widow. I decided I needed some help. I needed someone with insight and knowledge about what to do about my predicament, but first I needed to make a call to warn a friend.
My call was to Vanessa. I worried that she might be Agent Riley’s next target, and for good reason. She was, presumably, the last of our GNO group to see Crater alive Friday night.
“Hey, Mandy,” Vanessa answered my call with an upbeat voice.
“Hey, Vanessa. Got a minute?” I wasn’t feeling upbeat at all.
“Sure. I’m just doing a search for a chandelier one of my clients thought she saw in one of about a dozen stores and she just has to have it. I’m getting nowhere. I could use a break. What’s up?”
“Where were you between twelve-thirty and one-thirty Friday night?”
Vanessa laughed. “Are you serious? Why?” My friend sounded a bit surprised by my question. I’ve only known Vanessa for about a year, and most of our interactions have been during our monthly girl’s night out get-togethers.
“Yes. You must have heard about Crater McMurphy by now?”
“You mean that he was a philanderer?”
“No, that he was killed,” I was incredulous. How was it possible that Vanessa didn’t know about Crater McMurphy’s death?
“What?” Vanessa asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“He was killed at the Chalet early Saturday morning. Don’t you read the newspaper or watch TV?”
“No, I haven’t since, I don’t know, Friday. I’ve been busy.”
“What have you been doing? His murder is all over the news, Vanessa.”
“Wait. Are you asking me because you think I had something to do with it?” Vanessa screeched.
“No. I’m sorry. I just need to know that you have an alibi,” I stammered. “An FBI agent stopped by my office today asking all kinds of questions. She knows we were at Rascal’s Friday night. She knows we spoke to Crater.”
“You don’t honestly think I could kill someone, do you?” Vanessa persisted. “Anyway, why would I? I didn’t even know that man.”
“No. Of course, not. You stayed away from him on Friday night, right?” I assumed that Vanessa would heed my warning and keep her distance from Crater McMurphy after Annie and I left the club.
“Not exactly. After you left, I went back to our table, and Crater was there waiting for me.”
“Ugh. What happened?”
“Nothing really. We had a couple of drinks and we danced. It was no big deal.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Vanessa. People probably saw you together.”
“So what? Of course, they saw us. How could they miss us? I was dancing with Crater McMurphy.”
“I know you didn’t do anything, Vanessa, but it would be a good thing if you had an alibi. The FBI agent I mentioned? She is intense.”
“Well, I do have an alibi—kind of.” She didn’t sound very sure about that.
“You do?”
“Yes. Not that it’s any of your business, but the owner of Rascal’s, Chuck? He saw me out Friday night, and I invited him back to my place, okay? We ended up spending the entire weekend together.”
“Good. Then you do have an alibi.”
Vanessa hesitated before she answered me. “Well, that depends. I’m not sure if Chuck will collaborate on my story or not. We made sure to leave Rascal’s separately. He’s kind of going through a nasty divorce. He stands to lose a lot. Chuck won’t want his wife to find out about us. She might realize that it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”
“Oh, Vanessa...” I stopped myself before I could admonish her. I am not the morality police.
“I know...”
“Maybe you should give Chuck a call, just in case.”
“I will. And this FBI agent?”
“Agent Riley. She’s a tough cookie. She had me wondering if I killed Crater.”
“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. I guess.”
“Sure.”
AT AROUND 6 P.M., I let down my hair, literally, and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved blue t-shirt. I headed to the local country western tavern. I don’t eat at Delilah’s often because I usually get takeout from Slopes. I eat alone in my office more often than I want to admit. I happened to know that a lot of the local first responders dined at Delilah’s after their shifts. I was on the lookout for Jed Link. I knew that he dined at Delilah’s frequently and I needed to speak to him. I walked through the giant double doors of the establishment and stepped into another world. There was a giant bar in the place, a dance floor that was currently vacant, and even a little stage for live music. At the time though, the sounds of a popular crossover country band were coming from the restaurant’s sound system. I noted the cool lighting and the western décor of horseshoes and southwestern art hanging from the walls. I noticed one of those mechanical bulls in the corner. It didn’t take me long to find Jed. He was seated, hatless, at a small booth in a dark corner at the back of the restaurant. His short hair was mussed, and the top three buttons of his shirt were open. Jed’s laptop computer was sitting on the table in front of him. There was a half-eaten steak and French fry dinner pushed to the side of the table as if he was already finished eating. No wonder Jed stayed so slim. He probably wasn’t eating enough.
“Hey Jed,” I said as I lifted his cowboy-style police hat from the otherwise vacant seat across from him and placed the hat on my head. I slipped into the booth across from him. Jed didn’t look amused when he looked up and saw his hat perched on my head. I was smiling devilishly at him. He closed his laptop. Jed stared at me like he was adjusting his tired eyes after a long spell of looking at the computer screen. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath before he spoke to me.
“Mandy, what brings you here?” He finally said as he rested his elbows on the tabletop. Then he placed his cheek against his fisted hand. He looked distant and a bit dreamy. Was he trying to look dreamy? The sight of him was unnerving. Annoyingly, I began mentally rhyming again. Jed/Dread.
“I met your friend, Agent Riley today,” I began.
“Friend?” He shot me a wary look. We used to engage in playful banter all of the time when we were kids, but Jed didn’t look up to it at the moment. He looked tired, worried, feral, and maybe even a bit ravenous.
“Friend, associate, or whatever. Why is she here, Jed?” I pushed the hat further back on my head and crossed my arms over my chest assuming a pose that I hoped looked casual.
“I already told you, Mandy, Susanne is helping with the investigation of Jonah McMurphy’s death.”
“Susanne, is it? That’s very friendly. I bet she’s just your type too. She seems to be all business, and she likes to take control of things,” I smiled, uncrossed my arms, and pulled a French fry from his plate and ate it.
Despite the dim light in the restaurant, I could see that Jed’s cheeks pinkened. “It’s just a working relationship, Mandy. What do you want? You know I can’t give you information about an open case.”
“Jed, I looked into the reasons that the FBI gets involved in homicide cases, and do you know what I found? They only do it for very specific kinds of cases.”
“Mandy...” Jed started to argue and then I guess he thought better of it. He closed his mouth and stared at me with those cold gray-blue eyes.
I tapped my fingernails on the tabletop. Realizing that Jed wasn’t about to share anything with me, I tried a different approach. “I have a few thoughts on the matter. One is that Crater McMurphy was working for the government; I mean, we all know he used to be with some kind of special military unit, maybe he still had some kind of government connection. But then again, organized crime and drug trafficking sound like reasonable explanations too. Crater McMurphy traveled a lot; he used private planes. He was charming but I don’t think he was a nice guy. I can see how a man like Crater could be involved in the dark world of crime. I’m guessing either of those things could have gotten him killed.”
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