Justice in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  “Tony mentioned that when Meagher left, he was driving an old cargo van,” Meagher said.

  “Sissy noticed the van too. She also said Meagher acted happier and left her a forty-dollar tip, which was unusual for him,” said Sam.

  “Interesting,” Newmont replied. “It’s possible he was meeting someone at the cabin and it cheered him up.” He flipped through his notebook and then drank some wine.

  “Any word on Meagher’s gambling?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I did get some information. It turns out the Chicago mob controls the high-stakes gambling in this area. They pushed out the made guys in Madison and Milwaukee. I was told the Chicago gang running the games loved Meagher. He brought in a lot of big money gamblers. In return, the mob let Meagher play poker at the games. They didn’t care if he was a big winner,” Newmont replied.

  “Do you have agents playing in the games?” I asked.

  Newmont shook his head. “No, not yet. But we have people who know some of the players. That’s how we found out the mob loved Meagher.”

  “So it’s unlikely any connected guy killed Meagher,” Sam said.

  “Right,” Newmont agreed. “The method of murder kind of suggested that too. Mob guys are more likely to shoot a target than bludgeon him.”

  “That doesn’t eliminate another gambler though,” Joyce said. “Someone could have lost to him at poker big time and followed him to the cabin.”

  “I thought about that,” Newmont admitted, looking at his girlfriend. “But why not kill him when they left whatever house they gambled at?”

  “Too risky. They probably had mob muscle inside and outside the games to keep the peace. It would have been insane to kill someone near one of those houses,” Joyce replied.

  “Sam and I talked about a gambler following Meagher to the cabin. But on the day of the murder, Meagher was at work in the morning and killed later between 1:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m.,” I said.

  “That kills my scenario,” Joyce agreed.

  “Another possibility is that a friend or co-worker knew about Meagher’s gambling and thought he stashed the money at his cabin. That person met him at the cabin, tried to rob him, and ended up killing Meagher when he resisted,” Sam said.

  Newmont and Joyce nodded. “That scenario works,” Newmont said.

  “We also can’t rule out that it was some random psycho who somehow ended up at the cabin and murdered him,” I offered.

  “Yeah, that’s a possibility too,” Newmont said and returned the notebook to his pocket.

  Then I thought of our client and his son.

  “Hey Newmont, does Chief Durand still consider Mac Goodman a serious suspect?” I asked.

  Newmont nodded. “He remains on the chief’s list. During his interview, Mac went on a rant about Meagher. He said Meagher tried to scare his sister and had probably done the same thing to other people. He thought he was an evil person and deserved to die. He admitted to threatening Meagher and getting into a physical fight with him. It all added up and put him on Chief Durand’s radar. Mac Goodman swore he didn’t kill Meagher, but his rant didn’t help him any.”

  “Don’t forget the lack of a confirmed alibi,” I added and sighed.

  Newmont nodded. “Yes, that was another red flag. Chief Durand also thinks it’s odd that Kerry and Mac Goodman hired you and then Meagher was killed a couple of days later.” Sam and I both grimaced.

  “I fail to see any cause and effect there,” Sam commented and we laughed.

  After a pause, I asked, “Is there going to be a service for Steven Meagher?”

  Newmont looked at me. “The family plans to have him cremated and then interred privately. No church service.”

  “I thought they might have a Mass at St. Joe’s since that’s the church he and Larissa attended,” I replied.

  “I think Larissa Meagher wanted to keep it private. I doubt a lot of people would show up for a church service for Meagher,” Newmont said.

  “One more question. Have there been any break-ins around Meagher’s cabin?” Sam asked.

  “No, I asked the Crawford county deputies about that. They said none so far this year,” Newmont replied. “And that’s all I have which is good because I think this is our dinner.”

  Looking up, I saw Millie Todd rolling a serving cart toward us. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  “Millie, this looks delicious,” I said as she laid larger platters of fried perch, rye bread, coleslaw, and lemon wedges in front of us. Newmont and I had opted for potato pancakes with applesauce, while Sam and Joyce ordered French fries.

  “We have a larger crowd tonight, so your dad is helping us fry the fish,” Millie replied and smiled. “There you go. Do you need anything else right now?”

  “No, we’re good. Thanks Millie,” Sam replied and smiled. Millie winked and returned to the kitchen with the empty cart.

  There was silence at our table for at least five minutes while we all dug into our meals. The crunchy breaded perch was sweet and flaky. The creamy coleslaw and the potato pancakes were perfect. I even liked the rye bread. I also enjoyed watching Sam devour his fish and French fries.

  As I sipped my wine, I glanced over at Neville and Chloe. Uh oh. Chloe leaned forward and spoke intensely, gesturing with her hands. When she sat back, Neville leaned forward and replied at length. She said something in response and Neville’s hands shot up in the air. Chloe whipped her napkin from her lap and slammed it on the table. Then she stood and stalked toward one of the swinging kitchen doors. After watching her, Neville pulled out a notebook and wrote something down.

  “Are Neville and Chloe okay?” Sam asked quietly. He noticed the drama too.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. When I saw Joyce’s questioning look, I explained, “My cousin, Chloe, has been dating a great guy. But they’re having a rough patch.”

  “I hope they work things out. Finding the right partner can change your life,” Joyce replied and looked at Newmont. He smiled and covered one of her hands with his. When I glanced at Sam, he was watching me. We both looked away quickly.

  ***

  After dinner, I hugged Newmont and Joyce goodnight and smiled as they walked out of the dining room holding hands. Then Sam and I said goodnight. He headed for the kitchen to talk to Aunt Grace and retrieve his dog. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and left the dining room. I took the west hallway and pushed through the mudroom door to the outside.

  The temperature was still in the sixties but felt cooler thanks to a steady wind. I hurried north past the gardens to the coach house.

  When I entered the house, my two cats, Snap and Sammy, were waiting for me. They were black, white, and gray “cow cats.” Snap, the older cat, had gorgeous eyes and a sweet disposition. Sammy was smaller, and still had a lot of psycho kitten in him.

  After hanging my jacket in the hall closet, I got down on the floor. Snap and Sammy both rolled over as I gave them tummy rubs. Laughing, I stood and grabbed my bag. I walked straight through the double doors into the dining room and turned right into the living room. The cats trailed behind me.

  The living room was a big space with warm white walls, a white ceiling, and red oak floors. We used area rugs in the living room to block off different seating areas. A gray, Persian border rug marked the TV area where Chloe and Olivia sat on the old white couch with pink leaves and flowers. Chloe’s arms were folded and her face was red. Katie sat in one of the button-tufted easy chairs next to the couch. There was a bottle of wine and glasses on the wooden coffee table, but nobody was drinking.

  “Hey,” I said, dropping into a second easy chair that faced Katie. I put my bag on the empty chair to my right. Snap jumped up on the chair to Katie’s left. Sammy sat near the table and started licking a paw.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, a little unnerved by the silence.

  Chloe exhaled noisily but didn’t say anything. Katie raised her eyebrows at me and Olivia just looked down.

  “Chloe did you and Nev
ille have a fight?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, giving me a dark look. “We fight all the time, lately.”

  “What about?” I asked.

  Chloe shrugged. “Nothing. Everything.”

  “Chloe, you must know what you and Neville argue about. Spill,” I said firmly.

  She grimaced. “I don’t keep track of our fights, Liz. We’re just drifting apart. We fight about everything, okay?”

  “What are you talking about? Neville adores you!” I said.

  “He does,” Olivia agreed and Katie nodded.

  Chloe made a guttural sound. “I’m just realizing we’re not a good fit. We’re very… different people with separate goals.”

  One glance at Olivia and Katie told me they were as confused as I was.

  “Chloe, tell us what’s really bothering you,” Katie prompted.

  Chloe stood up slowly. “I love you guys but I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m going to bed. It’s been a rough day.”

  We watched her walk out of the living room.

  “I don’t understand this. Chloe and Neville are perfect together,” Olivia said in a low voice. “I’ve asked her to explain the problem several times and she just won’t answer.”

  “I spoke to Neville and he’s confused too. Chloe gets upset and he doesn’t know why,” I replied, keeping my voice down.

  “They need to have an honest discussion with each other,” Katie said.

  “I agree but Chloe has dug her heels in. We have to do something to help,” I replied.

  “I’m working on it,” Olivia said quietly. Katie and I stared at her.

  “How?” asked Katie.

  “I can’t say. Just trust me,” Olivia replied. “I’m going to bed too.” She stood and hurried out of the living room.

  I looked at Katie and said, “It’s time for wine.”

  “Amen to that!” Katie replied, jumping up. I poured us each a full glass of wine.

  “Here’s to communication… something our family sorely lacks,” I toasted. We laughed as we gently clinked our glasses. I took a healthy gulp and closed my eyes as the wine warmed my body. I was happy the day was over.

  Chapter 19

  Sam and I both took the weekend off. However, I did take time to summarize the information Newmont had given us at dinner. When I arrived at the office on Monday, Neville was already at his desk.

  “Morning, Neville.”

  “Morning, Liz,” he replied. “I just started the Dwight Reed interview.”

  “That’s great,” I said and dug through my messenger bag.

  “Another interview?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I replied. I found my notes summarizing what Newmont had shared at dinner and handed the sheet to Neville.

  “We had dinner with Newmont on Friday. He gave us some information about the case. You can enter that information under the case notes. Use “Montana” as the source.”

  Neville frowned. “Montana?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I should have told you this earlier. We can’t use Newmont’s name in the case notes. He and Sam are old friends. We help him and he helps us. However, we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize him.”

  “I understand,” Neville agreed. ”I’ll check to see if I mentioned him earlier. If I did, I’ll change it.”

  “Perfect. Thanks Neville,” I replied. Then I noticed he didn’t look well. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  He sat back in his chair and smiled weakly. “I’m a little under the weather, but I wanted to catch up on work. Then I have to go to another tea tasting at THE Herb Shop or Chloe will be angry.” He made a face.

  I frowned. “Do you think you should be drinking experimental tea blends when you don’t feel well?”

  Neville shrugged. “I was going to ask Olivia if we could try something more…soothing today.”

  “Okay. You know best,” I replied. “Any progress with Chloe?”

  Neville shook his head. “Not really. But I’m writing down everything that seems to spark an argument between us. Once I have a few more, I’ll see if there are any patterns.”

  “Good. If I can help in any way, let me just ask,” I said.

  “Thanks, Liz. You’ve already helped,” he replied. He smiled briefly but then looked glum again.

  I’d almost reached my office when Neville called out, “Hey Liz, I forgot. A woman dropped something off for you. She was waiting by the front door when I arrived.” He stood and held up an old, brown briefcase.

  I returned to his desk. “What’s this?” He set the briefcase on his desk.

  “She said to give you this too,” he replied, handing me a legal size envelope with my name on it. I tore the envelope open and pulled out a folded piece of paper. When I opened it, I scanned down to the signature.

  “Aggie Beal,” I said.

  Neville frowned. “Wasn’t she Steven Meagher’s receptionist and dispatcher?”

  I smiled at him. “Good memory, Neville.”

  “Thanks. What does she say?” he asked.

  I read it aloud. “‘Dear Liz Bean. Last night I went through the office to make sure things were in order for the next deputy and receptionist. I decided to clear out the closet in Meagher’s office because it was such a mess. I totally forgot there was a large storage compartment built into the wall next to the top shelf. When I started this job, Meagher said his closet and the one in the front of the office both had hidden storage areas. He had no idea what they were used for. When I opened the one in his closet, I found this briefcase. I decided to give it to you instead of the police. After working with Meagher, I’m not a fan of law enforcement. My boyfriend and I are leaving for Boston at the end of the week. My contact at the County Sheriff’s office said it was fine if I left the job early. Good luck with your investigation. Aggie Beal.’”

  “Very responsible of her,” Neville commented.

  “It was,” I agreed and lifted the briefcase. “Wow it’s heavy!”

  It was an old brown briefcase with a padded handle and leather flap. There were two leather buckles on the ends of the flap. Between the buckles, there was also a brass tuck lock with an opening for a key. I pressed the lock button and it didn’t give.

  “It’s locked. I don’t suppose Aggie left a key?”

  Neville shook his head. “No, but we might be able to force it.”

  “That’s okay. It’ll wait until Sam gets here. He has a way with locks,” I replied and we both laughed. I walked back to my office with the briefcase.

  Of course, Sam called to say he had an errand to run and would be in late. He and Flip arrived at 1:00 p.m. Sam sat in one of my guest chairs and Flip came around the desk to greet me. After I hugged him and scratched his head, he trotted back to Sam.

  “Hey did you ever look into those GPS dog collars?” I asked, watching him pet Flip.

  Sam looked up and smiled. “I did. I ordered one from Amazon yesterday. I’ll be able to track him on my laptop or phone. I can also define the back yard and house as safe zones. If he leaves either one, I’ll get a text alert.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I replied.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to get it. I also spent the morning at a security company looking at alarm systems for my house. I got a package that includes cameras I can use inside and outside the house. They’ll transmit images to my laptop or phone.”

  “So you’ll be able to watch him on the cameras and track him with the collar if he gets out?” I asked.

  “Exactly! I’ll feel better about leaving him home when I have to.”

  “I hope you’ll still bring him to the office,” I said, glancing over at Flip who had sprawled out on the floor by Sam.

  “Oh I will. Don’t worry about that,” Sam assured me. “I like having him here too.”

  At that moment, Flip opened one eye and wagged his big red tail. When it thumped on the floor, we laughed.

  “Hey, Aggie Beal from Braden dropped this bag off,” I said. I reached
down and put the brown briefcase on my desk. “She left a note saying it belonged to Meagher. She found it in a hidden compartment in the closet in his office. We have a problem, though. It’s locked and we don’t have a key.”

  Sam frowned. “There was a hidden compartment in the closet and I missed it?”

  “The police did too, Sam,” I replied. That didn’t seem to make him any happier.

  “Where in the closet?” he asked.

  “Somewhere near the top shelf.”

  He shook his head. “I must have forgotten to test the walls.”

  “Sam…the briefcase? It’s locked,” I said, pointing to the bag on my desk.

  Sam focused and his eyes lit up. He stood to examine the briefcase. “Piece of cake. Do you have a hairpin?”

  I pointed to my short pixie haircut and laughed. “No.”

  “Hang on,” he replied. He used the shortcut door between our two offices and returned with what looked like a thin nail. I stood to watch him. First, he undid the two leather buckles. Then he inserted the nail into the lock and twisted it around for minutes until there was a click.

  “It’s open!” I exclaimed.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Sam said and smiled.

  He flipped the briefcase flap back. The interior had a zipped center compartment and two open sections. Sam extracted two, thick, 9” x 12” Manila envelopes and handed them to me. I set them on the desk. The first envelope wasn’t sealed and was filled with sheets of paper. I slid all of the pages out and examined them. Each page had similar printed designs but with different colors. There were black and white squares, colored squares, numbers, and letters.

  “Do you know what these are?” I asked. “There must be over two hundred sheets here in this one envelope.”

  Sam looked at the sheet I held out to him and shook his head. “No idea. Artwork of some sort?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. I put all of the pages back into the envelope.

  We checked the other envelope and it contained the same type of paper with weird designs. In the bottom of the briefcase, Sam found another photograph of Sharon Meagher and her two children. It was identical to the one that we’d discovered in Meagher’s office. There were also colorful travel brochures and photos of boats. Sam turned the briefcase upside down and checked for any hidden compartments.