Justice in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  Neville shook his head. “No, none at all.”

  “Excellent. Give me five minutes. I have a new audio file for you,” I replied.

  Sam looked up from scratching Flip’s ears. “Liz, when you’re done, let’s chat about the interview.”

  “Okay,” I agreed and hurried to my office. I turned my laptop on and connected my cell phone to it with a cable. I found the right audio file and renamed it. Then I dragged and dropped it to our shared drive. I wrote the new filename and Doc Marsden’s name on a piece of paper.

  After brewing a cup of coffee, I grabbed my notebook and returned to the reception desk.

  “This is the filename for the audio file I just put on the shared drive,” I said to Neville.

  “One sec,” he replied and after a few touchpad clicks he had connected to the shared drive. “Okay, I see it.”

  “Doc Marsden is the guy we interviewed. You’ll have to enter him as a new contact.”

  Neville nodded. “Got it,” he replied

  Then I remembered our conversation from yesterday. “How was the taste testing with Chloe and Olivia?” I asked.

  Neville made a face. “Olivia wouldn’t tell us what was in the tea and Chloe couldn’t guess. I didn’t like the taste, but it did relax me. Chloe liked the taste and but it definitely didn’t relax her.”

  “How often are you doing this?”

  “Daily. Olivia is trying to refine the tea recipe, I guess,” Neville replied.

  “I hope she’s at least giving you both cookies,” I said.

  Neville smiled, “We did have some crackers and cheese afterwards.”

  I gave him a smile and thumbs-up. He put his earbuds in and turned back to his computer.

  I walked into Sam’s office and sat in the first guest chair. Sam clicked away at his laptop

  “What did you think of Marsden?” he asked.

  I sipped my coffee and tried to slow down my thoughts. “I found him believable. Now we have a better explanation for all the money Meagher had. I bet he funneled some of his gambling winnings into the S.M. Trading bank account to launder it. Then he probably used another portion of his winnings to buy bitcoin. The rest he squirreled away for fast cash. It also raises the possibility that someone in his gambling world killed him.”

  Sam nodded. “I agree. However, I don’t think a connected guy running one of the poker games would kill Meagher by hitting him over the head.”

  “I see your point. They’d pick a more traditional mob-style execution,” I said.

  “Maybe a gambler saw Meagher winning money at one of the poker games and decided to rob him. He followed him to the cabin, things got out of hand, and he killed him,” Sam replied.

  “The timing is off though, Sam. Doc said the games were at night. Meagher saw his wife the morning of the murder and he was killed in the afternoon the same day.”

  Sam frowned. “Okay, maybe someone saw him win big earlier in the week and targeted him. Then they staked him out and followed him that Wednesday to the cabin.”

  I shrugged. “But if another player saw him win big earlier in the week, why not just ambush him after leaving that game?” I asked.

  Sam thought about that. “Yeah good point,” he replied.

  I sipped more coffee. “I can think of another scenario. Maybe the killer wasn’t a stranger. What if Meagher stashed some money out at the cabin from his earlier poker games and a friend or co-worker knew about it? That person arranged to meet Meagher out at the cabin for some bogus reason. Then he tried to rob him, Meagher fought back, and the other person killed him.”

  Sam thought about that for a minute. “Then why did the killer leave $2,300 in Meagher’s pocket?”

  I felt my scenario deflate like a balloon. Unless… “Maybe the killer found much more money hidden away at the cabin and left with that? It could have been so much money that he never thought to search Meagher’s pockets.”

  Sam smiled. “Yeah, that sounds plausible. We can run that by Newmont. So what’s next?”

  “Before we interview anyone else, I’d like to go look at Meagher’s office in Braden,” I proposed.

  Sam looked doubtful. “Why? I’m sure the police searched it thoroughly, Liz.”

  I shrugged. “You can never tell. It can’t hurt to go look.”

  “Let’s check with Newmont,” Sam said dialing his friend’s number. Newmont answered right away and Sam put the call on speakerphone.

  “Hey Newmont, we may have a couple of leads for you,” Sam said.

  “Sounds good,” Newmont replied.

  Sam first told Newmont about S.M. Trading, Meagher’s business, and his bank accounts in Madison.

  Newmont grunted. “How’d you find that information? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  “Better to not ask,” I suggested and Newmont chuckled.

  “A small business would be one way to launder dirty money,” Sam observed.

  “Yes it would,” Newmont agreed.

  “Do you have anybody who might know more about the traveling poker games?” I asked.

  “Yeah, there are a couple of people I can call. Do you trust your source?” Newmont asked.

  “I do. Very believable but wants to stay anonymous.”

  “Okay, I’ll pass this on to Detective Swanson. I’m sure he’ll be interested in those accounts,” Newmont replied.

  “Hey, did you find a safe or money stash at the cabin?” I asked.

  “No, there wasn’t any safe that we found,” Newmont replied.

  “We were thinking maybe Meagher stashed some money at the cabin. Then someone who knew about the money met him out there and tried to rob him. There was a struggle and this person killed Meagher,” I replied.

  “I’ll double check with Mrs. Meagher on that. If he had a hidden safe, we may have missed it,” Newmont said.

  “The other thing is our source mentioned that Meagher tried to recruit him to play in some of the high-stakes poker games. Meagher told him he wouldn’t have to report his winnings to the IRS. Meagher said he used a strategy of buying bitcoin with some of his profits and hiding it in online accounts,” I said.

  “Bitcoin? To my knowledge, we haven’t found any bitcoin accounts in the evidence we collected. But I’ll pass that on to Swanson. I’ll ask Larissa Meagher about that too,” Newmont replied.

  “Thanks,” Sam replied. “Anything new on your end?”

  “Let’s see. Yesterday, I spoke to Larissa Meagher about Dom Fontana,” Newmont said. “She explained she had helped him find and buy a house in Black Earth. Then they became friends. However, she angrily denied any romantic relationship. When I asked why Mr. Fontana attended the same church services as she did, she got even angrier. She said she had recommended St. Joe’s to him as a friendly parish.”

  “Did you talk to Fontana?” I asked.

  “I did,” Newmont replied. “I drove to Mr. Fontana’s office in Madison and chatted with him. He also said that he and Larissa were just friends. When I asked him about St. Joe’s, his answer was almost identical to Larissa Meagher’s response. There was one interesting thing though,” Newmont said and paused to drink something.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Fontana’s face was bruised and he had two black eyes. When I asked him about it, he said that he spent the day of the murder with a friend named Moose Crotty. Crotty was depressed over a breakup with his girlfriend. So he and Dom Fontana sat around drinking most of the day. When Fontana made a comment about the girlfriend, Crotty hit him and they had a fistfight. After he calmed down, Crotty apologized and they kept drinking. Fontana spent the night there, because he was too drunk to drive.”

  “Did you talk to Crotty?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, his story was the same as Fontana’s. He didn’t sound rehearsed or prepared though.”

  “So you believed Crotty?” I asked.

  “I did,” Newmont replied.

  “Did you get the feeling Larissa Meagher and Dom Fontana were also telling the tr
uth?” I asked.

  “Hard to say,” Newmont replied. “Mrs. Meagher almost overreacted, but then she’s been distraught over her husband’s death. I have to factor that into her reaction. However, Fontana wasn’t at all surprised by some of my questions. I had the feeling he expected them.”

  “Larissa warned him?” asked Sam.

  “Very possible,” Newmont replied. We absorbed that for a minute.

  “Shifting gears here. Newmont, is there any way we could look at Meagher’s office in Braden?” Sam asked.

  “If you mean search it, the sheriff’s deputies and our guys went through everything already.”

  “I understand. It would help our investigation if we could look at it too,” Sam replied.

  There was silence on the line and then Newmont said, “Okay, we can do that. How’s 10:00 a.m. tomorrow? I can introduce you to Aggie, the receptionist.”

  “Thanks buddy. We’ll share anything we learn,” Sam replied.

  “I know you will,” Newmont said and they laughed.

  When the call ended minutes later, I did a small fist pump and Sam grinned.

  Neville had left for the day so I summarized our conversation with Newmont. I left the summary on his desk with a sticky note.

  I felt we were on the right track. Meagher flashed a lot of money and played in high-stakes poker games. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone who knew about the money meeting with Meagher at his cabin and then trying to rob him. Meagher resisted and the person clubbed him to death. It would help if Larissa Meagher confirmed that they had a safe at the cabin and that her husband kept money there. Sometimes waiting for answers was the hardest part of this job.

  Chapter 14

  At 10:00 a.m. the next morning, we arrived at the sheriff’s office in Braden. Sam parked his Jeep behind Newmont’s police SUV. The morning air was chilly, so Newmont still had the engine running.

  I hurried to the SUV and slid into the front passenger seat. Sam sat in the back.

  “Morning,” we all said.

  “Anything new?” Sam asked.

  “A few things,” Newmont replied. “I spoke to Mrs. Meagher and she said there wasn’t any safe or hiding place that they used at the cabin.”

  My spirits dropped. “Did you believe her?” I asked. I had pulled my notebook out of my bag and was taking notes.

  Newmont paused for just a second and replied, “I did. I didn’t see any signs of evasion in any of her responses. I also asked her if there was a Will and she said there wasn’t. They had talked about preparing Wills but kept putting it off. When I asked her about bitcoin, she said she didn’t know anything about that. However, she reiterated that they kept their finances separate. I contacted the banks where Meagher had accounts to see if he had safety deposit boxes and he didn’t. Oh and Madison will look into S.M. Trading, but that may take a while.”

  “Okay. Has the coroner released a report?” asked Sam.

  “Yes. The cause of death was blunt force cranial trauma,” Newmont replied. “The manner of death was homicide. Someone hit him three times on the top right side of the head with a weapon shaped like a pipe. Meagher was standing when he was attacked. The coroner estimates the height of the assailant as between 6' and 6'2”.

  “Tall,” I commented, adding to my notes. Mac Goodman was around six feet tall, I thought. “And the time of death was still between 1:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. Wednesday?”

  “Yeah no changes there,” Newmont replied.

  “Toxicology?” Sam asked.

  “Not yet. Those tests always take longer,” Newmont said. “We also checked out Harley Hill, Edith Hill, Sue Hill Barlow, and Leon Barlow. They all have solid alibis for the day of the murder.”

  I felt a wave of relief that nobody in the Hill or Barlow families were involved in Meagher’s death.

  I checked my notes. “Newmont, do you know Rose O’Ryan?”

  “Rose O’Ryan is a village trustee. She and her husband live in Mystic Grove. What’s your interest there?”

  “She had some interactions with Meagher. I plan to interview her. How about Dwight Reed?”

  “Interesting that you bring up Dwight Reed’s name. About a month ago, I got a call about a fight in the Village Tavern parking lot. Reed and Meagher had gone toe to toe and Meagher got the worst of it.”

  “Really? Did Meagher press charges?” I asked.

  “No. As I recall, they both said it was a misunderstanding. I told them it couldn’t happen again and they agreed. Reed and his wife went into the Tavern to eat. I waited in my vehicle until Meagher left the parking lot. You think he’s involved with the murder?”

  “No, actually he’s more of a witness. If we learn anything from him, we’ll let you know,” Sam replied.

  “Fair enough. Anything else new on your end?” asked Newmont.

  “Not since yesterday,” I replied and he nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go inside,” he suggested.

  ***

  Aggie Beal, the receptionist, didn’t smile or stand when Newmont introduced us.

  “This won’t take a lot of time, will it? I have to leave at noon,” she said. She sat behind her desk, nervously tapping a manicured nail on her coffee cup.

  “We’ll be out of here by noon,” Sam replied and flashed a smile. Aggie relaxed and gave him a brief smile. Sam and I sat in the guest chairs at Aggie’s desk. Newmont leaned against a wall.

  “Aggie, we know this must be a difficult time for you,” I said, starting the voice recorder on my phone.

  Aggie tossed her short blonde hair and frowned. “It’s not a difficult time at all. Meagher was a terrible boss. One of the great things about quitting and moving east with my boyfriend was never seeing him again.”

  My eyebrows shot up and my mouth dropped open in surprise. Obviously, there was no love lost between Aggie and Meagher.

  “So you gave notice?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m here through the end of the month,” Aggie replied. “But I might leave earlier.”

  “What made Meagher a bad boss?” Sam asked.

  Aggie blew out a puff of air and folded her hands on her desk. “Where do I start? Meagher was a jerk. In addition to being crude and short-tempered, he was rude to me and rude to most of the residents of Braden. He also sometimes drank liquor in his office, which made him even more obnoxious. He was the type of person who kept you on edge all the time.”

  “Okay, thanks for your honesty, Aggie. Tell us about the last day you saw him,” Sam said.

  Aggie sipped her coffee. “It was the Wednesday he was killed. He was interviewing part-time receptionist candidates and wanted me there.”

  “How many candidates did you interview?” I asked.

  “Three. I gave them an overview of the job and answered any questions they had. He went through their resumes and asked them questions about their work experience.”

  “Did he hire anyone?” Sam asked.

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “What was his mood that day?” I asked.

  “He seemed… a little happier that day. When we talked to the applicants, he lightened up even more,” Aggie replied.

  “How long did you interview people that day?” I asked.

  “We started at 8:00 a.m. and were done by around 10:30 a.m. That’s when he said he was going for an early lunch.”

  “Were you concerned when he didn’t return?” asked Sam.

  “No, not at all. He would often leave and I wouldn’t see or hear from him until the next day,” Aggie replied. “He told me once he liked to patrol in his car in the afternoons because it reassured people to see the police out and about.”

  “Did he seem worried at all?” I asked.

  Aggie shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you know if he received any threats?” asked Sam.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me but he never said anything. Most of the people in Braden hated him, but they were also afraid of him,” Aggie replied.

  “Why?” Sam aske
d.

  Aggie snorted. “Because he was nuts. He had a hair trigger temper and liked to push people around. Meagher was a bully with a gun and everyone tried to avoid him.”

  I nodded. “Is there anybody specific you can think of who wanted to hurt Meagher?”

  Aggie sat back and shook her head. “Almost everyone hated him, but I can’t think of anyone who would have actually killed him.”

  “Okay. Let’s go back to that Wednesday. Did he say where he was going to lunch?” I asked.

  “He didn't say, but he liked to eat at the Tipsy Cow,” Aggie replied.

  “Was he meeting someone?” I asked.

  Aggie shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Did he mention having any appointments after lunch?” asked Sam.

  “No, but now that you mention it, Meagher checked his watch a lot that day. That was unusual,” Aggie replied.

  “So maybe he was meeting someone,” I said.

  Aggie waved a hand. “Could be. I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever dispatch police calls to Meagher when he was out?” asked Sam.

  Aggie’s head bobbed up and down. “If anyone called this office with a police emergency while I was here and he was out of the office, I’d call him on the dispatch radio. After hours, any 911 calls were automatically routed to the Mystic Grove police department.”

  “Did you get a lot of calls you had to dispatch to him?” Sam asked.

  “No, hardly any at all,” Aggie replied. “Unless it was a real emergency, a lot of residents waited until evening to call. That way they knew it would go to the Mystic Grove police and not Meagher.”

  “Did Meagher mention anything about going to his cabin?” I asked.

  Aggie shook her head. “No, I didn’t even know he had a cabin.”

  “Okay, last question. You were here late on that Wednesday and took the call from Mrs. Meagher?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been staying late. I was documenting all the things that the new receptionist would have to do, including the occasional dispatching,” Aggie said.

  “How did Mrs. Meagher sound?” Sam asked.

  Aggie scrunched her face as she thought back. “She sounded worried. I explained I hadn’t seen or spoken to Meagher since that morning. Then I said I could dispatch a call to him and she asked me to do that. I did transmit a call but there wasn’t any answer. When I told her that, she thanked me and hung up.”