by A R Kennedy
He gently picked Ferris up and cradled him against his chest.
“Get the door, will you, Pugliese?”
Vinnie did as instructed, closing the car door but never taking his eyes off of Cecilia. Her full attention on Ferris, she didn’t notice and walked up to the side door to open it.
“Where should I put him?” Holden asked.
“Um…” Cecilia said, as she tried to decide.
Ferris usually slept in his bed in the master bedroom. Unless she was working, then he slept at her feet.
When Joey was alive she didn’t allow him on the bed but on more than one occasion she had found him stretched out on the bed when he didn’t hear her come home. Or she found the evidence—his hair. But things had changed since Joey died. A lot of things.
Cecilia pointed to a dog bed in the living room and Holden gently placed him down. Ferris groaned a bit as Holden pulled his arms from under him.
They stood over him for a moment until they were sure he was comfortable.
“We need to ask you some questions, Mrs. Chandler,” Owens told Cecilia.
She turned to face the Chief. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.
“We need to ask you some questions, Mrs. Chandler,” he repeated. Pugliese stood behind him, in front of the front door, arms crossed.
“Can we do this later?” she asked.
“No, we have to do this now,” Pugliese ordered. Owens shot him a look.
She slowly nodded understanding. “Um…okay.” She pointed to the couch for them to sit.
Holden sat while Pugliese remained in his ready stance. “Thank you, Mrs. Chandler.”
“Cecilia. Or CeCe, please.” She figured the polite thing to do was to offer something to drink. “Do you want something to drink?”
He shook his head no. “You probably don’t want to go in there right now,” Holden told her.
The brief look she had earlier flashed in her mind. The cleaning would have to wait. The short nod she gave to agree intensified her headache. She grabbed her head, trying to ease the pain. Holden jumped up, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“It’s been a long night and my head hurts.”
He tried to guide her to the couch with him but she refused and chose the chair next to Ferris’s bed. She watched him breathe several steady breaths and she did the same.
Pugliese cleared his throat to get her attention and was successful.
“Did you catch him?” Cecilia asked. “Or do you need me to give a description? I really didn’t get a look at him. He had that ski mask thing on.” She mimed that the intruder had something over his head. “It covered his whole face.”
The two officers exchanged a glance.
“Mrs. Chandler…Cecilia, the intruder…he’s dead.” Holden cleared his throat in order to continue. “You killed him.”
CHAPTER 8
Daniel Briscoe had been locked in his office all morning. Folley’s prosecutor leaned back in his chair and looked at the man sitting across from him and, for the third time that day, he questioned himself regarding his hire.
Of course, Alex Sanders was the only campaign manager who had agreed to come to Folley. None of the others wanted anything to do with the small town lawyer’s pursuit for the state senate.
Briscoe had wasted time on the phone with each prospective manager, helping them find Folley on the map. He described it how most residents did: quaint. Briscoe usually called it old and small. He’d long outgrown the town and wanted out.
The town’s website boasted “small town charm.” It had been part of Mayor Townsend’s failed attempt to increase tourism to the town. The only attraction was a lake and plenty of other towns had better lakes. And with only one hotel in town, few tourists arrived.
Briscoe had watched Mayor Townsend’s career drive slowly evaporate. The mayor had big aspirations when he was first elected. He’d thought Folley would be a stepping-stone to the capital as well. Briscoe didn’t want that to happen to him.
A firm knock on the door disturbed Briscoe from his thoughts. He yelled, “What?”
His assistant, Marcy Thompson, walked into the room. He glared at her. He could not think of one reason she should break his “Do not disturb” order. He also could not think of one time she ever had. “Yes, Marcy?”
She nodded to the middle-aged Sanders, who ignored her and pulled out his phone.
“I think you need to call the Chief.” She hesitated and Briscoe held his tongue. He did not want to snap at his assistant in front of Sanders. He’d worked all morning on portraying himself as a calm man, for Sanders. A man he could sell to the constituents to work at the capital for them. If Sanders dropped him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He doubted he could run a successful campaign himself. He wanted out of Folley and he saw this as his only chance. Time was slipping away.
Briscoe stared at Marcy, jaw clenched, waiting for explanation. “There’s been a murder,” she told him.
Briscoe sat up. “A what?” He could not have heard her correctly. A murder in quaint Folley? The biggest case he’d ever had was an armed robbery.
“A murder,” she repeated.
Sanders perked up as well. “A murder? Does that mean a murder trial?” He turned to Briscoe. “Has there ever been a murder trial in this town?”
Briscoe shook his head. “Not since I’ve been here.” He looked to a lifelong resident of Folley. “Marcy?”
“Not that I can remember,” Marcy answered. “I can call my mother—”
“No,” Briscoe interrupted her.
“This will help your campaign immensely,” Sanders told him. It was the first time he had seemed interested in Briscoe since his arrival. He smiled and Briscoe returned the smile. A big trial was exactly what Briscoe needed to bolster his career. Sanders made a few notes on his phone. “Will the mayor support you?” he asked.
Out of character, Marcy answered for him. “The mayor will definitely support you after this case.”
CHAPTER 9
“Aren’t we going to arrest her?” Vinnie asked as they left the Chandler home.
Holden hesitated. He certainly didn’t want to. She was a recent widow struggling with enough and he didn’t want to add this to her plate.
“She killed him,” Vinnie said. As if Holden needed to be reminded. But he knew several people, with higher ranks and bigger egos, would be reminding him when he returned to the office who she killed.
“It was self-defense. He attacked her. On her property,” Holden responded. “You heard her.”
They had listened to her brief account of the night. He appreciated her succinctness. The recollection was devoid of emotion. Holden didn’t know if it was shock or just Cecilia’s way.
He’d heard in town she was some kind of computer wiz. Something he knew very little about but something many in the town, whose computer knowledge did not extend past how to turn one on and off, felt the need to comment on. He’d heard more than once how surprised they were that she still lived here after Joe Chandler’s death. They all gossiped how she belonged in the city, not here. They’d said that when she’d arrived a couple years ago too.
“Did you know the husband?” Vinnie asked when he got in the driver’s seat.
“Joe? Sure. Grew up here. Couple years younger than me. Real shame.” Holden was thankful he hadn’t had to give the death notice to Cecilia. He didn’t like having to tell a wife her husband was never coming home again. Especially the young wives. It always made him think of his mother.
Holden recalled arriving on the scene last December.
An ambulance had been pulling away as he parked his car. Another ambulance remained on the scene.
The sheriff was waiting, talking on his cell phone. He waved him over. The construction site was outside city limits but the business, Chandler Construction, was in city limits.
“The owner’s dead,” Sheriff Walter Winkins announced after they shook hands. “Joseph Chandler.” Wall
y lit a cigarette. He offered one to Holden, who passed. “You know the wife? Want to come with me?”
“No,” Holden answered. “No, I don’t know her,” he clarified. And no, he did not want to go with him to tell her. “I’ve seen her around town but not to talk to.”
Mrs. Chandler was tall and slender, always meticulously dressed. She stood out in the rural town. He’d seen her more than once in the local grocery store. She smiled politely as people passed but she was clearly uncomfortable. He’d never seen her stop to talk to anyone. Or them stop to talk to her.
He knew how uneasy he’d felt when he moved here ten years ago. He hadn’t moved from a metropolis like she had but it was a bigger town than this one. He had found it a big transition. It must have been a monumental transition for Mrs. Chandler.
His marriage hadn’t survived such a move. Annabelle had left after seven months.
Maybe Mrs. Chandler loved her husband more than Annabelle had loved him. Maybe the Chandlers were simply a better match.
They watched as the coroner’s van pulled in.
“What happened?” Holden asked.
The sheriff pointed to the construction site. “Right over there. The heating and cooling unit broke free from the crane.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “No hard hat going to protect you from that.”
“Everything up to code?” Holden asked. He’d never heard anything negative about Chandler Construction, before or after Joe had taken over from his father. And this town talked. If there was a problem, he was sure he’d know about it.
“Yep. All the permits are up to date. Preliminary findings, the equipment is in good shape. All inspections up to date. All the workers legal. Appears to be an accident.”
They walked toward their cars as the coroner’s van pulled away with Joseph Chandler inside.
Sheriff Winkins finished his cigarette and flicked it away. “So you want to come with me or what?”
“No, you don’t need me with you to watch a pretty woman cry.”
Holden looked at the Chandler home and was glad he hadn’t made Cecilia cry, today or last year.
Vinnie was talking again. “She killed him outside her home. After she had already gotten away from him. And was safely in her house.”
“But he was still there. He was still threatening her.”
“Outside her home. She could have just closed that glass door and called 911.”
“But he had the dog. He was going to kill Ferris.”
“The law says—” Owens stopped him before Pugliese could recite the statute.
“I know the law, Pug.” But Chief Holden Owens never had a case like this. He didn’t know how the law applied.
“The Castle Doctrine says you can use deadly force to protect you and your family, not your property.”
Owens didn’t want to argue with Pugliese any longer. He knew he’d be facing a bigger fight when they got back to the station. He hoped he could win the fight so he could save Cecilia from more stress.
“Just drive, Pugliese.”
As they pulled away, they didn’t notice the first news truck pull up.
CHAPTER 10
Then
“Why are we here?” Cecilia asked when they pulled into the dirt parking lot. There was a white trailer at the end of the parking lot.
“For a little education,” Joey responded as he parked his Ford F-150 among many other similar trucks.
“It’s a Saturday. Can’t I have a day off from the learning about country life?” Cecilia sighed and rested her head against the headrest. Dressed in wide-leg floral patterned pants, a pink silk tank top, and a white blazer, she felt overdressed for a dirt parking lot and the trailer. Cecilia had hoped they were going out for a nice meal. But she had left nice meals in the city.
Her clue that they weren’t going anywhere nice should have been when Ferris jumped in the truck. He rested his head on Cecilia’s shoulder and she gently pushed him off. She cringed when she saw the dirt his muzzle had left on the white blazer. The dirt wiped away easily.
“Learned? CeCe, I don’t think you’ve learned anything about country life.” He laughed and the laugh filled the truck. “You just need to be glad we don’t have the farm anymore. I would pay any amount to see you getting up with the roosters and milking the cows…oh and feeding the chickens…” The thought of each new chore made him laugh harder and he had more difficulty speaking it. “Oh and the pigs. You walking among the pigs!”
Cecilia lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “Why are we here?” she asked again.
“Today you’re going to learn how to protect yourself.”
Excited to be somewhere new, Ferris ran from one window to the other, smacking Cecilia with his tail each time he turned. “I think Ferris here is the one who needs protection.”
“Let’s go, boy,” Joey instructed him as he helped Ferris out of the car. Then he came around to the passenger side and helped Cecilia out. She slid down his body and asked, “Is there something else we could do today? Go somewhere a little more romantic than this?”
“Maybe later,” he answered.
Joey held her hand to steady her as they walked on the graveled parking lot. Her fuchsia high heels were not made for this terrain.
The popping sound she heard when she got out of the truck got louder as they walked closer to the trailer. “Hey, Boomer. How you doing today?” Joey said to the man inside.
Boomer gave Cecilia a thorough once-over, as if he’d never seen a woman before. Cecilia looked around and took in the trailer. Boomer sat behind a glass case that held guns for sale. Pictures of guns hung on the walls behind him. She slowly turned to take the place in. Pictures of people holding guns, people shooting guns, pictures of guns hung on every wall. Boxes of bullets were displayed for sale on a rack by the door. It slowly dawned on her what her date night was.
A shooting range was not what Cecilia had planned for their Saturday night out.
Boomer grunted hello when Joey introduced them.
“The usual, Boomer,” Joey told him as he got cash out of his wallet.
“I’ll put you in the end,” Boomer said after inspecting Cecilia again.
“Yeah, probably best,” Joey agreed. “You get my order?”
Boomer nodded and handed Joey a bag, along with a gun and two sets of headphones.
Joey handed Cecilia the bag. “I got you a little something.”
Normally, she would smile when presented with a gift. But she doubted something at a gun range would ever appear on her wish list. Joey took her hand and led her out the back exit of the trailer.
Two lanes of the eight shooting lanes were occupied. Once finished shooting, the two men, at the far right, reeled in their targets. They removed their headphones and pulled down their targets. They glanced up at the open door to check out the new arrivals. “Hey, Joey,” one called over. Then he did a double-take when they noticed his wife.
Joey returned their greeting and Cecilia gave a little wave. Each looked at Cecilia before returning to their conversation about who shot their targets better.
Joey escorted Cecilia over to the leftmost shooting lane. Cecilia opened the bag to find pink headphones.
“Pink headphones?” She held them out and wondered how she would wear them without messing her hair.
Joey nodded. “Nice, right? Knew you’d love them.”
She pulled her hair back and to the side, placing the headphones around her neck.
“Look, they even match,” Joey said, pointing to her pink tank top. He put one pair that he was carrying around his neck and placed the other pair on Ferris. “You and me boy, we get black ones.” Ferris sat patiently between them. Cecilia struggled daily to put a leash on Ferris but he let Joey put earphones on him without a wiggle.
“So this is going to be a usual Saturday night date?” she asked.
“No,” he answered, helping Cecilia put her headphones on, with no regard for her hair. The headphones rested askew on one ear so she co
uld still hear him. She sighed relief.
“We can come any night,” he added. Joey put a target up and pointed to the center. “This is what you’re aiming for.”
“I don’t like this, Joey,” she said as he placed the gun in his hands.
“You need to learn how to shoot a gun.”
“I’ve lived twenty-seven years without even holding a gun. I’ve done just fine.”
“But we live here now. It’ll take over twenty minutes for police to get to us if there’s a break-in. You need to know how to use a gun.” Using the clothesline apparatus, he placed the target ten feet away.
The target wasn’t simply expanding rings but a picture of a man, with rings transposed on top of him. She could clearly make out his eyes. “I can’t shoot something that close.”
Joey laughed. “Well, I doubt you’ll be able to shoot anything farther.”
He turned her to face the target and placed the gun in her hand. She recoiled. “Really, Joey, I don’t like this.”
“CeCe, living here, you need to learn.” He held his hands firmly over hers and kept her facing the target.
“What kind of neighborhood have you moved us into?” she asked, turning her head to meet his eyes.
He took the gun and placed it on the shelf in front of them. “The neighborhood is fine. It’s just isolated.”
Removing the headphones, Cecilia turned to face him. She smiled and hoped she could flirt herself out of the gun range without ever having to shoot a bullet. It was bad enough she had held the gun. Joey, six inches taller than her, looked down at her and into her eyes. He returned the smile. “Can’t we get an alarm?” she asked.
Joey placed his hands on her upper arms and gently squeezed. “We already have an alarm. You never set it.”
“How about a guard dog?” she asked.