Murder, Wrapped Up

by K. J. Emrick

  I hated to admit it, but I knew he was right. It wasn’t like we found DNA from the killer, or a fingerprint, or something like that. To find that stuff we’d need to have an evidence team come in, and for that we’d need the help of a police force. Which we didn’t have.

  “Kevin, do you think you might be able to get the Australian Federal Police in here? Go over Cutter’s head and get the big boys to investigate this?”

  I was really hoping he’d say yes, but instead he shook his head. “I asked around a bit when you called. No one up there believes Bostwick is dead. He’s supposed to be on a scheduled vacation. Whatever Cutter did to push ‘em off, it worked.”

  “Not to mention,” I added, “he came to Lakeshore under false pretenses to work his second job as a private detective. Not like he would’ve left word at the office about what he was doing here.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “Not likely.”

  So. No help from Lakeshore PD. No help from the Federal Police. All me and Kevin had was each other.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Well, it’s a start, I guess.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my voice. Bostwick’s ghost had led me to find this button, to find the proof that he had died in this room, and now that we had it we didn’t know what to do with it. “It is a start, right?”

  “More than a start,” was Kevin’s answer.

  “Well make up your mind, will you? Either it’s useless, or it’s not.”

  He smiled at me in that annoying way he had that reminded me so much of his father. “Never said it was useless. Just said we couldn’t do much with it. Not until we have a plan.”

  “So do you have a plan, smart guy?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  I felt like smacking him in the chest. “You couldn’t just tell me that in the first place?”

  “Tried to. You wouldn’t let me get a word in.”

  I didn’t care if he is my son. I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “For now,” he said, “let’s get this little bugger someplace safe—”

  “Can I help you two?”

  Alfonse Calico. Me and Kevin both looked over to find him standing in the door, arms crossed over his open silk shirt. The chains around his neck clattered against each other. I can only imagine what he must think, finding two people up here in his apartments that were supposed to be locked up.

  Then he saw me, and I watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he blew out a breath. “Of course it’d be you. Ya know, Dell, I’ve had rabid fans that spent less time chasing after me. Maybe I should just let ya move in with me. Be less work to find me next time, don’t ya think?”

  “Hey, easy there, friend,” Kevin said, stepping in front of me. “That’s my mom you’re talking to.”

  He made it sound like he was defending my honor but I saw him use the motion to quietly slip the button and its wrappings into his pocket. Clever.

  Alfonse looked from me to Kevin. “Sure. I can see the resemblance. Yer both stickybeaks. Got yer noses in where they don’t belong. Dell, I thought we were done after our little conversation earlier. There couldn’t possibly be anything more to say... here now, wait a tic. This is your son? Your police officer son?”

  “The same one,” Kevin said, holding his hand out. Alfonse didn’t take it right away, and when he did, it was a quick grip. “Hope you don’t mind me looking around your room up here, Mister Calico.”

  “What if I do mind?”

  “Then I appreciate your help even more.”

  “Oh, do ya now.” Alfonse twisted one of the rings on his left hand. “Now listen—”

  “This woman is my mother,” Kevin said, like Alfonse hadn’t spoken at all. “She’s in trouble. She needs my help and I’m giving it to her. Nobody is going to stop me. So, Alfonse Calico, either help me or stay out of my way. Because I’m telling ya right now, standing in my way is somewhere ya don’t want to be.”

  Alfonse’s dark face paled a bit. He could hear the steel in my Kevin’s voice. So can I. “Well,” he said, twisting his rings faster, “in that case, I’m glad to help ya, Officer Powers. Anything ya need.”

  “Same here,” Kevin returned. “Let me give you the number to my mobile. We’re gonna keep in touch, me and you. I think we’re gonna be best friends.”

  The smile was tight on Alfonse’s lips. “Oh good.”

  Chapter Eight

  I didn’t like Kevin’s plan.

  Thing was, I didn’t have anything better.

  There should be a way of uncovering murder that doesn’t involve so much sleuthing. If someone commits a murder, their hands should turn red or their hair should fall out or... I don’t know. A big flashing sign should appear in the air over their head: “I did it,” flashing in neon lights.

  Guess that’s asking for too much.

  For now, sleuthing is all I had.

  Sleuthing. I think that might be my new favorite word. Makes me feel like a female Sherlock Holmes. Maybe I should get myself one of those floppy deerstalker caps and a pipe.

  Well, not the pipe. Smoking is bad for your health.

  So was murder.

  The police station was quiet when I walked in. There was nobody in the lobby. Nobody in the parking lot. Cutter had just arrested someone—me—for murder. I really expected there to be more activity here. I think they were down to five officers altogether, including the Senior Sergeant, and at least a few of them should be here doing paperwork. Where were they?

  Guess I didn’t merit that much attention.

  The sliding glass was closed at the service window. I hit the top of the little bell on the window shelf, it made a hollow clang sound throughout the station. Then I waited.

  After a moment one of the officers came to see who was in the building. The officer’s blue uniform shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and even tighter against the bulge of his waist. Thick arms, thick neck, thick head.

  Just who I wanted to see.

  Bruce Kay kept his scalp shaved bald and shiny and the scraggly brown handlebar mustache was growing in, finally. Everything he could do to look just like Senior Sergeant Cutter. The man took boot licking to a whole new level.

  I really could not stand this man.

  Kevin didn’t come with me. Last night we had talked for hours, just him and me, until Ellie had arrived just before midnight. Then the three of us had stayed up even longer, just catching up. It felt good to just sit and be Kevin’s mother for a while. Not Dell Powers, owner of the Pine Lake Inn. Not Dell Powers, ghost whisperer. Just me, sitting with Kevin and Ellie. It felt good to have that, at Christmas time, for just that moment.

  That was last night. Now I was here, in the police station, with Bruce Kay.

  He’d been the one who stood by while Bostwick’s body was taken out of the Thirsty Roo and carried away to be disappeared. The officer Alfonse had seen when the murder scene was being sterilized. This officer, right here.

  There was a long few seconds when Bruce just stared at me. Then he slid the window open and leaned his elbows on the shelf. “What d’ya want?”

  “I’m here to see you, Bruce.”

  “Officer Kay,” he corrected me with a growl in his voice. “That’s who yer addressing. Show some respect.”

  “You get all the respect you deserve. You and this whole department. My son was the only one of you worth the dust on my shoes. Bruce.”

  I smiled as I added his name. Seeing the sour pout of his lips under his mustache was worth it.

  “Well,” he said to me, “whatever ya want don’t matter. Ya saved me a trip to go haul yer backside down here.”

  Well. I didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? You boys planning on arresting me for something else I didn’t do? Maybe somebody spray painted the water tower again?”

  He snorted. “Murder wasn’t enough for ya?”

  I had to make my fists unclench. “You know I didn’t do that, Bruce.”

  To my sur
prise, he nodded. “Don’t make much difference, does it? Cutter’s in the back. He wants to talk to ya. Whatever ya came down here to say to me, say it to him.”

  He reached under the window and buzzed the lock for the door to get through into the inner office. He stood there, and I stood there, and the door kept buzzing. There wasn’t anything for me to do except go in.

  Besides. That’s what I came here for in the first place.

  Bruce had that smug look on his face when I got in and the door closed behind me. I really wanted to slap that smirk right off his pudgy face but hitting a police officer probably wouldn’t be good for my reputation. Or my fist. Not that my reputation was in great standing right now, but I didn’t feel like breaking my hand today.

  Thankfully there’s more than one way to wipe a smile off a man’s face.

  I reached in my pocket, and took out the button.

  Me and Kevin had taken it out of the toilet paper wrappings and put it into a little plastic bag. It was more secure this way. Plus, it looked a lot better than pulling a folded stack of TP out of my pocket.

  “Know what this is?” I asked Bruce.

  “Yer lunch?”

  “It’s a button,” I said, ignoring his snark.

  “Good on ya, Dell,” Kay laughed at me. “Found yerself a button. Think ya can find the sock my dryer ate last week?”

  “This isn’t just any button.” I held the little baggie closer to him so he could get a good look. “This happens to be a button off the sleeve of a dead man. Notice the initials?”

  He glared at me, but then squinted down at the button. “J, B,” he read. Slowly, the light came on in his eyes. “Jason Bostwick? That dead man. That’s who ya mean? Ha. That’s a laugh. Maybe let yer son be the detective in the family, Dell. Yer not too good at it.”

  I couldn’t believe he was just laughing this off. Apparently, he didn’t believe me. At least, not yet.

  “I got this,” I told him, “when I found Bostwick’s grave. He’s dead. We both know that, mainly ‘cause I was charged with his murder, but no one outside of this town seems to know it. Somehow, that information’s being kept a secret. But, we both know Jason Bostwick is dead, don’t we, Bruce? So I found his grave, and I dug him up, and here’s the proof.”

  Bruce choked on his laughter. His face turned red as he tried to get a breath and his eyes focused down on the button again.

  There’s the reaction I was hoping for.

  “So, no more cover up, Bruce.” I took the button and put it back in my pocket, his eyes following it the whole time. “No more lies about who killed Bostwick. I’ve got the proof of what really happened. This is your chance to come clean before I tell everything to the newspapers.”

  He just stared at me, his mouth hanging open.

  I know the spot I was putting myself in. I’m the one accused of murder, and here I stand with a button from the dead man in my hand. If Bruce here wasn’t guilty as sin he probably would’ve had the good sense to turn it around on me and say I took the button when I killed the man.

  My little gambit was dangerous for me.

  Dangerous, yes, but it paid off.

  Bruce cleared his throat, about to say something. About the button, about the murder, all of it. I was about to get the confession from the man himself.

  “That’s enough.”

  It was Senior Sergeant Cutter’s voice I heard. He was just coming down the hallway from his office. I knew he was there. If he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been there watching me dress down one of his men the whole time, that was fine with me. He heard the last bit, when Bruce had been about to talk. That was enough for me.

  “Hello, Senior Sergeant,” I greeted him. I made a show of patting my pocket where the button was. “Bruce here tells me you wanted to see me.”

  “That’s enough,” he repeated, looking at Bruce, not me. When he did turn to me his expression was grim. “Miss Powers. Come with me.”

  “I’d rather not,” I told him, speaking honestly. “Last time I went anywhere with you, I ended up being charged with murder.”

  He stood there, waiting for me to finish. He didn’t move. His voice took on an edge. “Come with me.”

  “Thing is,” I said, planting my feet just like Cutter had and refusing to be moved, “nobody knows about this murder. Outside of Lakeshore, I mean. I was just telling Bruce here about it. Everybody here knows. Can’t step sideways without someone looking at me funny. ‘Course, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  “Don’t know what yer yabbering about.” Cutter turned his glare on Bruce. It was a warning to keep quiet while he talked. “I had a complaint of murder. I charged the most logical suspect. It’s what us police officers do.”

  “It’s what your officers do, sure. That’s why my son tossed his badge in your face and his gun on your desk and left.”

  “Right.” Cutter’s face twisted like he’d eaten something sour. “Yer boy, Kevin. Heard he was back in town. Not surprised he didn’t want to come over and say G’day to me. He’s home just for the holidays, I take it?”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “Sure. Family’s important.”

  I was surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth. “Well. Looks like we finally have something to agree on, Senior Sergeant. Family is important. Especially around Christmas time.”

  “Too right. Got my wife and boy waiting for me at home. Only two more days till Christmas, ya know.”

  “I do. I’ve got my son and his girlfriend waiting for me at home, too.” And my husband’s ghost too, I supposed. “So what did you want with me?”

  “Rather have this talk in my office, Miss Powers.”

  “I’m sure you would. I’m more comfortable here.”

  Cutter isn’t a man used to being denied what he wants. Most everyone in Lakeshore jumped when he said so. Not me. He stood his ground for just a few seconds, then he shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Fine. Let’s do it here. Seems there was a mistake, is all. Yer off the hook for the murder of Jason Bostwick. Charges dropped.”

  Everything I had been about to say slipped right out of my mind. “I’m what now?”

  “Yer free to go. The charges are dropped.” He waved his hand at me like he was shooing away an insect. “Go home.”

  Then he turned to walk away. Like I was being dismissed.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I shouted at him. “You can’t just arrest me for something and then... unarrest me, and then expect me to skip on home with a smile!”

  Turning back on his heel, Cutter lifted a finger in my direction. “I don’t give a brass razoo how ya get home, but ya can’t stay here. Charges dropped. Think of it as a Christmas present.”

  “But... why?” I was still trying to understand. I’d come down here to see if I could clear my own name by tricking Bostwick’s killer into confessing to the crime. Now I was being let off the hook without so much as an apology. Not that I’d ever expect an apology from Senior Sergeant Cutter. An explanation would’ve been nice, though. “I don’t understand. Why?”

  Cutter and Bruce shared a smirk. “Turns out,” the Senior Sergeant said to me, “there was no murder.”

  “You had pictures!” I exploded. “How can you even try to say there was no murder? You had photos of his dead body. You showed them to me right here, in this building!”

  The Senior Sergeant hooked his thumbs into his duty belt, making a show of shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what yer on about. Photos? Nope. Never had any photos. Can’t take pictures of something if it never happened. I guess that Calico character just overreacted to one of his tenants stiffing him on the check, because Officer Bostwick is alive and well and on vacation. Thought ya heard about that?”

  “I don’t—” But, I did. James. Somehow he knew that James had found out from the Australian Federal Police that they thought Bostwick was off on vacation. Just like that, the cover up was complete. No one had any reason to believe a murder had ever happened.

&
nbsp; Just like that.

  I stared at Cutter, really seeing him for the first time.

  Now I understood what he was doing. Now I got it. My arrest had been a big old red herring. Just a way for Cutter to buy himself time. His plan had always been to say Bostwick was alive and well. The man wasn’t dead, he’d just left town in a hurry to go off on his vacation. That was the cover story. I could just imagine Cutter getting postcards sent from some other part of Tasmania to make it look like Bostwick was still alive. The newspaper story never went out. I’d been arrested for murder, sure, but Cutter had cleared the charge. All one big misunderstanding.

  Except, Alfonse had seen the body being taken out. He wasn’t supposed to be at the Thirsty Roo that morning. Bostwick’s killer—standing right here in this room with me—had made that one small mistake. What if Alfonse talked? The man loved to hear the sound of his own voice. What was Cutter going to do about that? Because he’d already silenced everyone else. Including me.

  He needed a fall guy. He chose me because he hates me.

  I’m just lucky that way.

  But Alfonse had been there when the body was removed. He was the only witness...

  Oh, snap.

  I had to show Cutter that I could prove Bostwick was murdered. I had the button. I knew where the grave was. At least, that’s what I wanted them to think. If the Senior Sergeant was looking to tie up loose ends, Alfonse was a big one. If he was the only thing that stood in the way of this cover up working then he was in serious trouble. And he didn’t even know it.

  Cutter would come after him hard.

  Unless I stepped up and made myself a bigger problem. Then he’d come after me instead.

  Okay, so it wasn’t a perfect plan.

  “Cutter,” I said, “I was just showing Bruce here something that proves—”

  “I don’t care!” He blew up at me, his face turning red. “Get outta my station!”

  Apparently, I’d pushed my luck as far as it could go.

  That was all right. I’d done what I came here to do... I hoped.

  Time to take my leave.

  I patted my pocket again, and then looked over at Bruce Kay.

  Cutter was already walking away from me. “Senior Sergeant, I’d like to thank you for dropping the charges,” I called down the hall at him.