by K. J. Emrick
It was a pretty effective technique. I knew what Cutter was playing at, and I was still a little nervous when he finally came in to sit down across from me. He didn’t look at me. Just folded into the chair and set down a manila folder on the table, and opened it up. He turned over several pages, shaking his head at each one.
There were reports, and handwritten notes, and a photograph of Bostwick, laying on a floor with an ugly carpet of brown and gold designs. The pattern was nothing I had seen before. His room above the Thirsty Roo, I was guessing. His arms were folded up over his chest. Blood covered one side of his face. His head lay to the side, and a round hole had been drilled into his right temple.
Gunshot wound.
I cringed at the photo. Knowing someone is dead was one thing. Seeing the way they died...that’s something I’ll never get used to.
Cutter must have seen the way I reacted, because he left the folder open to that picture as he sat back and folded his arms across his barrel chest.
“So tell me, Miss Powers. Why’d ya kill Officer Bostwick?”
Anger welled up inside of me. In my lap, my hands curled into fists. “Cutter,” I told him in a tight voice, “you are the biggest drongo I’ve ever known in my whole entire life. What in God’s name makes you think I did this?”
I pointed at the photo, careful not to touch the image of a dead Federal police officer. Even if it was just a picture of him I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.
“Never known ya to be violent, Dell,” Cutter said to me, his jaw set. “But yer cunning as a dunny rat. I figure if ya wanted to get something like this done, ya might just find a way. Don’t take much strength to pull a trigger.”
There was a long moment before I could speak. “There must be some reason you brought me in here. Let’s hear it, Cutter. Tell me why. Why would I do something like this?”
“That’s the question, now ain’t it?” He rapped his knuckles against the photo in the folder. “The two of ya had a bit of a sit down at yer Inn yesterday, is what I’m told.”
Rumors fly in this town faster than a bilby scurrying to hide its furry backside in a hole.
“Yes,” I told him. “He came to talk to me.” No sense denying it. No reason to deny it. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Not that Cutter wanted to hear that. “Sounds fishy to me. What’s a Federal officer want with a little rinky-dink Inn owner way out here in the wilds of Tasmania?”
The dilemma I found myself in hardened around me like cement. I know Cutter’s dirty. Telling him Officer Bostwick wanted me to testify against a criminal organization would be like telling a rat I was the one holding the cheese. I’d just be asking to get myself attacked.
On the other hand, not telling Cutter what Bostwick wanted would mean lying to the police. Well. Lying to Cutter.
Yet I was strangely good with that.
Keeping my expression as neutral as I could, I told him just enough of the truth to make it sound good. “Officer Bostwick wanted to talk to me about the ‘Ndrangheta hit woman that Kevin arrested last month. He’s part of some government taskforce. Just tying up loose ends.”
Cutter stared at me for a long moment. I could just about hear the wheels turning in his mind. It was a slow grinding noise. Rusty, and heavy, and slow.
“That why ya killed him?” he finally asked.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Well, I think ya did. The two of ya had yer talk and ya got worried he was gonna muck things up for that son of yers. Got so stirred up, ya shot him.”
“Cutter, I don’t even own a gun!”
He actually laughed at that. “This is Tasmania. Everybody owns a gun.”
Where’d he get an idea like that? I couldn’t even speak after that. Exactly what kind of world did Angus Cutter live in?
“Let’s try it this way,” he said to me when I just sat there blinking at him. “If ya didn’t kill him, Miss Powers, then how’d ya know Bostwick was dead? First thing ya said to me when I came knocking on yer door this morning was that I had a murder to investigate. Seems the only one that’d know Bostwick was dead, before I could say so, was the woman what killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I repeated for what must’ve been the tenth time.
“Then how’d ya know about it?”
My dead friend told me in a dream.
No, I couldn’t say that.
“You know how rumors fly in this town,” I told him instead. Which was true. Just not the actual answer to his question. I’d already lied to him. One more wouldn’t make that much of a difference.
He nodded his head. “I know how rumors go. For instance, there’s more’n a few about me ‘round this town. I think some of ‘em had a start from Dell Powers.”
“My friends call me Dell,” I said. “We’re not friends, Senior Sergeant Cutter.”
“Know that, too. That son of yers wasn’t any friend of mine, either. Two peas in a pod, both of ya.”
Suddenly, I was very certain that I did not want to be in this office alone with the high-and-mighty Senior Sergeant Angus Cutter. “I’ve answered your questions, haven’t I? Bostwick came over to the Inn, we talked, he left. There must be somebody who saw him going back to that room of his over the Thirsty Roo?”
Cutter shook his head. “Not a one. Just turned up there dead this morning. Shot, like ya see in the pic there. Funny thing ‘bout that. Those rooms opening up for rent above the Roo kinda hurt the business at yer Inn, didn’t they?”
“I didn’t even know that Alfonse was renting rooms until yesterday.”
“Yesterday.”
It hadn’t been a question. “Right.”
“When you first met Officer Bostwick in the Thirsty Roo. Yesterday.”
“Well, sure.”
“Now, follow me on this.” He leaned forward again, and began closing up the folder. “If’n some out-of-towner was found dead in the rooms over the Thirsty Roo, that just might keep anyone else from wanting to rent up there, wouldn’t it?”
“Well... maybe, I guess, but—” I wanted to point out there’d been a murder in my Inn and it had only helped business, but he didn’t give me the chance.
“And if those rooms don’t rent, people come to find a place at yer Inn instead, right?”
“Of course they would. It’s the only other place in town for—”
“Kind’ve gives ya motive to want Bostwick dead in those rooms. In a couple different ways, don’t ya think?”
I ran it through my mind, just like Cutter had said it. He was twisting a lot of facts, and wasn’t listening to anything I was saying, but... the way he put it could almost make sense. A judge and jury might just buy it. If I didn’t know me, I might even suspect me.
I was the last person to see Bostwick alive, that we knew of.
I didn’t like the man.
He was staying with a competitor, even if I hadn’t known about it before yesterday.
And, even though he hadn’t asked me yet, I didn’t have an alibi. I’d gone to bed early and stayed in all alone. Nobody could vouch for where I was... or wasn’t.
Yup. In Cutter’s world, that amounted to motive and opportunity.
Which meant I was in trouble.
Oh, snap.
“So what happens now?” I asked him as the seconds began to tick by.
He slapped the folder closed, and looked across at me.
And smiled.
“Now, ya get to be my guest. Until somebody can pay yer bail, anyways.”
“Cutter!”
He stood, hands curled into fists with his knuckles flat against the table. “That’s Senior Sergeant Cutter. Yer gonna learn to respect me, Miss Powers, now that yer son’s outta town. Got nobody to shield ya anymore.”
His grin turned feral.
“Miss Adelle Powers, yer under arrest for the murder of Officer Jason Bostwick. Stand up. We’re gonna process this arrest, and then yer gonna spend some quality time in the holding cells. Don’t worry. Ya g
et one phone call. I’d make it count, if I was you.”
This couldn’t be happening. Only, when I looked at Cutter, there was no doubt that it was. I knew he would do everything in his power to make my life miserable. Worse than that, even.
He was going to pin this murder on me.
I held on to the unicorn necklace, and stood up.
***
It didn’t take me long to decide who my one phone call should be. Once I got over my embarrassment, I dialed his number.
To his credit, James didn’t even laugh at me. At least, not on the phone. He saved that for when he came to get me.
I guess that’s what boyfriends are for.
We’ve been dating for a while now and believe me it was a hard thing for me. For a long time after my husband left me I figured I would never love again. Then I met James, and we flirted and danced around our feelings for what seemed like forever, and then we were just suddenly dating.
Then last month, I told him I loved him, and he said the same to me.
So here I am, phoning the man I love from jail for him to come and make my bail. Life in Lakeshore. Well, my life, at any rate.
I walked out of the Lakeshore Police Department building under the hawkish eye of Senior Sergeant Cutter. He stayed behind the service window, counting out the yellow and red bills that James had brought to him for my bail. I was glad he was on the other side of that sliding Plexiglas window. Feeling his eyes on me was bad enough. I didn’t know if I could keep my mouth shut if he’d decided to walk me out.
James was waiting for me in the parking lot next to his car. The Dodge Charger had seen better days, but it was still an impressive sight, with the hood scoop and that gleaming rectangular front. It was black, although there was some spots of rust creeping in around the front quarter panels and along the chrome bumper. James wouldn’t tell me where he got this piece of automotive history from. That was all right with me. It was healthy to have a few secrets in a relationship.
Like how I talked to ghosts. Or how I got glimpses of the future. Still haven’t worked up the nerve to tell him about that one. Not even really sure how I’d start the conversation. I can picture it now. Oh, by the way James, my dead friend Jess thinks you’re a real hottie.
I’ll tell him. Just... when the time is right.
So maybe secrets weren’t all that healthy. Either way, I was selfishly hanging onto mine.
For now, I was just glad to see him and his stack of emergency cash.
He was head and shoulders taller than me and his slender body was a lot stronger than it looked. I knew that from several long, comfortable nights of him holding me on his couch while I fell asleep in his arms. I wasn’t quite ready to move in with the man, or sleep in his bed—I blushed when I thought about it—but I really enjoyed the way he treated me like a woman. He was really cute, too, with those pale blue eyes and his windswept blonde hair. This is just the kind of guy a girl dreams will save her from jail one day.
Like I said. This is my life, and welcome to it.
“I didn’t realize I was dating a bad girl,” he said with a smile. “Not every day I get to say my girlfriend got pinched by the coppers.”
I tried to look annoyed as I swatted him across his chest but the truth was I was just too happy to see him. “Shut up,” was the best I could manage.
Then I folded myself into his arms and finally let loose the tears of frustration I’d been holding back. “I can not believe him, James. Cutter’s off his rocker. Did you know he arrested Kevin once? Now this. He just makes the rules up as he goes!”
His strong hands felt good against my back. “Don’t worry,” he told me. “After this, Cutter’s through. I’ll make sure of it. My paper’s gonna devote a lot of editorial space to the state of law enforcement in Lakeshore, I can promise ya that.”
I love the way he talks. It’s a strong, clean Australian voice, smooth and warm and comforting. He’s proud of his heritage, and proud of this town, and he doesn’t want to see it mucked up by Cutter any more than I do.
“Cutter bounced out as Senior Sergeant,” I thought out loud, wiping away the dampness from my cheeks. “That’s the only Christmas gift I need this year, that’s for sure.”
“Really? ‘Cause I had something for ya, but if all ya want is Cutter gone then I can return the other thing.”
“What other thing?” I pushed back from him enough to look up into his eyes. Of course, I have something for him too. Can’t be dating a man on Christmas without getting him a gift. I just want to know if he’s gotten me something better than what I got him. Men can be so sneaky like that.
His smile says it all. Whatever he got me, it’s good. “Hardly matters now. All ya want is Cutter gone and I’m gonna make that my mission in life after this, so I’ll just send the other thing back.”
“Don’t you dare, James Callahan.” Our banter was making me feel a little better. I was grateful to him for that, but it didn’t solve the bigger problem.
Who killed Officer Jason Bostwick?
“Uh, oh,” James said to me, sliding his arms away so he could take me by my hand and lead me to his car. “I know that look.”
“What look?” I asked, all innocent.
“That look that says you’re going to go poking around into this investigation.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know I had a look.”
At his car, he stopped and turned me to face him again. “Dell Powers, I know ya better than anyone else. Yes, there’s a look. I know enough to brace myself when I see it, ‘cause what comes next will blow me down if I don’t. You’re like a storm when ya get going.”
“Maybe you shoulda left me in jail, then.”
“Now what kinda boyfriend would I be if I did that?” He opened the car door for me. “Besides, the bail wasn’t all that much, considering you’re charged with murder.”
I could hear the eagerness in his voice. He was already crafting his story for the paper. I could tell. I was betting the first two—no, three—paragraphs were already written in that gorgeous head of his, and my name was featured prominently in the first two sentences.
“The bail wasn’t very high,” I explained, “because Cutter set it himself. There’s no way he’d chance taking this to a judge to have a court set bail. He’s got nothing but his crazy theory and a few circumstantial bits. If he brought it to the court they’d throw out his whole case.”
“Should be thrown out anyway,” he mumbled, getting in behind the wheel.
I got in with him, and then sat there, thinking. This whole thing made no sense. Who would dare kill a Federal officer? People in town had to know who he was. It wasn’t like he was shy about throwing out his title. Federal Officer Jason Bostwick, organized crime division, raging egomaniac.
Maybe I shouldn’t talk ill of the dead, but there it was. Couldn’t help myself. Him being dead didn’t change who he was. Then again, he’d only come to town to ask for my help. I’d turned him down, and he’d left the Inn, and then he’d gotten himself killed.
What if...
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” James asked me as he put the Charger in gear and drove us away from the police station. The only thing down at this end of town was the PD and Oliver Harris’s towing and recovery business and some storage buildings. After that the street turned back into the dirt Kookaburra Road and headed off into the wilderness. It was a short drive from here back into town, and James had just asked me a big question.
“I was just thinking,” I admitted. “I told Bostwick I didn’t want to talk to him or have anything to do with what he was offering. What if... what if I’d said yes? What if I hadn’t tossed him out of my Inn? If I’d at least sat down and listened to what the man had to say, would he be alive now? Would things have turned out different?”
His left hand reached out and patted my knee. “Hey, now. This isn’t your fault. You’re not the one that killed the man, and ya didn’t send him to his death. Nothing ya did could’ve chang
ed things.”
I nodded, because I know he’s right. It still bothered me. I’d said no to helping out on his investigation because I was scared. There. I said it. Well, I’d said it to myself. The ‘Ndrangheta were leaving me alone, and that’s all I wanted, to be left alone, but instead I’d gotten myself mixed up in Cutter’s ego trip and the man who needed my help was dead. Maybe it wasn’t my fault, but I sure hadn’t done anything to help stop it.
Was that unreasonable? It’s not like I asked for him to come here. Whatever got him killed had nothing to do with me, but that’s not how it felt.
This time was different, I guess. The mystery involved me. Thanks to Senior Sergeant Angus Cutter. And maybe, thanks to my own fears. I’d told Bostwick no when I should’ve at least heard the man out. The ‘Ndrangheta were bad news. Bad people. Just... bad. Bostwick had reached out to me, and he must’ve thought I had something to offer in the case against the crime family. Why would he be here in Lakeshore otherwise? Maybe I still would’ve told him no once I’d heard his whole pitch, but I at least owed him a listen.
I was going to do more than listen now.
I could tell you that I’m not the type of girl to go sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong, but the thing is that recent events have kind of put the lie to that. I’ve gotten into more messes in the past year than I ever have in my whole entire life put together, all because I stuck my neck out to help a friend or solve a mystery. So, yeah, I get involved where I maybe shouldn’t.
That was the kind of person I am. That woman who told Bostwick no? That isn’t me. I didn’t want to walk around scared in my own skin. Not anymore.
Setting aside whatever fears I might have about my own safety, I reminded myself that neighbors help neighbors. If there was a problem, we stood up for each other.
We’re Australians. We don’t hide out under our beds when there’s things need doing.
We were back in the heart of town again, driving by the houses and the shops. The Thirsty Roo was just up ahead.
“Stop the car,” I said, pointing to an open parking space next to the curb. “Please? I need to talk to someone.”