by Kay Jennings
* * *
Jay nosed the police car out of Cranberry Drive and headed north on Ocean Bend Road. Fern sat in the front seat next to Jay, while Matt got in back with Marjorie and Fred. He didn’t think the Bushnells were the type to bail out of a moving car, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
To break the awkward silence in the vehicle, which was starting to get lengthy, Fern looked over her shoulder and asked Matt when he got to town.
“Just this morning,” he replied. “I was supposed to start work on Tuesday.”
“You’re from Texas, I understand,” Fern said, but it came out sounding like a question.
“Yes, ma’am. The Dallas area. Lived there all my life.”
“What made you come to Port Stirling?” she asked. “Our little town seems like quite a departure from Dallas.”
“Chief Horning got into a little trouble in Texas,” Fred Bushnell said. There was a hint of malice in his voice. “Isn’t that right, Chief?”
Matt stared at the mayor for a split second before answering, “You could say that. I prefer to think I was doing my job. The Grand Jury agreed with me.” No sense dodging the question; clearly the mayor was told my story before I was hired.
“But the girl’s parents didn’t agree with your version of what happened, did they?” Fred persisted.
“It was a tragic accident, and they were understandably upset to lose their daughter,” Matt bristled. “I’m sure you can understand how they felt.”
“Texas’ loss is Port Stirling’s gain,” Fern said quickly in an attempt to de-escalate whatever in hell was happening in the back seat. “Where will you be living, Chief?”
“I rented a nice little bungalow on Ocean Bend Road. It’s small, but it suits me just fine.” Thank you, Fern Byrne.
“It’s that cottage that belongs to Carol Newland, the teacher who retired and moved to California,” Jay piped in. “She didn’t want to sell it in case she ever wants to come back to Port Stirling. You’re going to love living on the beach.”
The mention of the beach brought an abrupt halt to all conversation, and the five adults rode in silence the rest of the way to the morgue.
* * *
Friday night, 8:12 p.m.
In death, I can now live. Watch me walk across the sea. The shark is in the tree! Eat! High on dying! Eat! Bite! Bite!
Is this real? All this blood! I’m covered in death. Bite!
Better think about getting rid of Emily’s blood. Never liked this sweater anyway. Throw it in trash. Saturday pickup! Bite!
Head hurts. Hands shaking. The shark! Tide coming in. Strong! Knife in my eye! Eat! Eat!
Chapter 7
Saturday, 1:00 p.m.
Matt, Jay, and Fern had been caught in a downpour leaving the Bushnell house after dropping off the mayor and his wife following the trip to the morgue. They left an unfortunate puddle inside Matt’s City Hall office.
OSP Lieutenant Ed Sonders followed them back to City Hall, and the four sat around a table in Matt’s new office, munching on the sandwiches that Bill Abbott’s trusty admin assistant had fetched for them. Mary Lou, stunned by such a frightful crime in her hometown, had insisted on coming in to work on Saturday to help out any way she could.
It had stopped raining, and the sun was peeking out occasionally through fast-moving clouds. The view Matt had valued in December was beginning to materialize through his rain-spattered windows. He removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and took a big bite of the turkey and cranberry sauce sandwich.
“What happened when Fred and Marjorie went to the morgue and identified the body?” asked Sonders.
“All of us went in with the parents,” Matt said between bites, indicating Jay and Fern. “Bernice was already there with the body. Marjorie gave the official confirmation that it was Emily. Both parents were relatively calm, considering the circumstances. I’ve seen much worse,” Matt added. “They both cried, but it was a soft cry, not a loud, sobbing scene,” he continued. “Would you agree with that, Fern? What was your take?”
“I agree. The only thing I would add—because I thought it was odd—is that at one point Fred moved to put his arm around Marjorie’s shoulders and she shook him off. It was subtle, but I caught it.”
“You know, you’re right,” Matt said. “I don’t think they touched each other the entire time they were in the room with their daughter’s body.”
“That does seem odd,” noted Sonders. “Most parents would cling to each other in this situation, you’d think. Wouldn’t you?”
“People are different,” Matt said. “I’ve seen all sorts of reactions to violence. Some people rant and rave, and some go absolutely silent. It’s difficult to make any judgments based on grief levels.”
Sonders nodded. “Every marriage is different, too. We don’t know anything about the Bushnell’s except how they appear in public. I haven’t been around Mrs. Bushnell that much, but Fred always struck me as a normal guy. If one or the other didn’t kill their daughter, they would be in shock.”
“Yeah,” agreed Matt. “We dropped them back at their house and told them to get some rest this afternoon. They are not to leave the house until I tell them it’s OK. Bernice was to start the autopsy after we left.”
“It’s important for the family to pull together now,” said Fern. “No matter how this turns out, they all need to support each other. I encouraged them to not talk about their statements to us, or to try to figure out what happened to Emily, but, instead, to rest and try to distract themselves from reality as best they can. At least, for a few hours until it really sinks in.”
“I stationed an OSP patrolman at the end of their driveway,” said Ed Sonders. “In case anyone gets any funny ideas.”
The difference between Fern’s approach and Ed’s was stark, but the two shared a friendly smile. They had worked together recently on a drug case when the single mother of two young children was arrested. Ed handled mom, and Fern took care of the children, and they respected each other’s work.
“I should have thought of that, Ed, thanks,” said Matt. “Let’s compare the family’s statements, shall we? Do you want to start with the kids?”
“The kids are all weird,” Ed said with a straight face, not joking in the least. “Gary hates Port Stirling, can’t wait to be back at U of O, and isn’t overly fond of either parent. He was, however, close to Emily, and seemed upset at her death. Maybe the most distraught of the three siblings. Susan is out to lunch…”
“What do you mean by that?” Matt broke in.
“She’s upset about her sister, of course, but at times during my interrogation she seemed just as upset about the fact that Emily managed to get herself killed on her birthday weekend.”
“That’s a teenage girl, me-first thought process,” Fern inserted. “It’s normal and should be discounted.”
“What about Jack?” Matt asked the lieutenant.
“Jack handled himself well for a 14-year-old. In fact, he seemed like 14 going on 35. He’s smarter than his two siblings. He said all the right things, but my bullshit meter was high. I kept getting the feeling that he was playing me.”
“Hmm. Do the three have alibis?” Matt asked. “It seems like Susan’s is probably the easiest to confirm; she either was or wasn’t at her friend’s slumber party all night.”
“Yeah,” agreed Sonders. “I will check that out as soon as we’re done here. Both of the boys’ alibis are a little shakier, especially in regards to timing. They were supposedly both out with friends in public locales, but that will take some tracking down.”
“First we need to hear the time of death more definitively from Bernice, and then we can pursue the boys’ stories more efficiently,” said Matt. “But, yes, talk to Susan’s friend and her parents to make sure they were all in the house all night. Let’s start by eliminating suspects with
air-tight alibis. In your view, Ed, does Susan seem capable of planning and executing a murder like Emily’s? Is she “out to lunch” as you say in general, or just because of the circumstances?”
“I don’t think Susan is smart enough to premeditate a crime like this, if that’s what you’re asking me. Maybe it was a spur of the moment deal, but I don’t believe she has the focus or the brain power to carefully plan her sister’s death in advance. No.”
“Check out her alibi anyway. We’ll go from there. Tell us about your interview with Gary. The timing of Emily’s homicide and Gary’s being home is coincidental. And I never cared much for coincidences. Where did he go last night?” Matt asked.
“Said he left right after the family dinner to catch up with some of his former high school pals. Told me they met up at the Stirling Tavern, where they played pool for hours.”
“That jives with what Marjorie said when I asked her what she could tell me about Gary’s activities last night,” Jay interjected.
“I didn’t want to butt in when Marjorie said that,” said Fern, switching gears, “but I thought you had to be 21 years old to be in there. Gary can’t be that old yet, can he?”
“No, he’s only 18,” said Sonders, his cheeks turning a little rosy. “Gary said the mom of one of his friends owns the place, and she lets them hang out in the back. Apparently she turns a blind eye as long as the boys are just playing pool. That shit’s gotta stop,” he fumed.
“Agreed,” said Matt. “Good catch. If he’s 18, he shouldn’t have been anywhere near that tavern. The law’s the law. Did Gary say if they had anything to drink?”
“I asked him that question, and he said that they had a “couple of beers” each. My guess is they had a lot more than a couple because Gary told me he didn’t get back home until almost 1:00 a.m. He asked me to not tell the owner that he told me they were served alcohol,” Ed said, shaking his head. “Do I look like a guy who’s not going to talk to the owner about this?”
They all laughed. “No, lieutenant, you do not. We’re going to clean that up. You have my guarantee,” Matt promised.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, Chief,” said Sonders. “I love ol’ George, but I swear he’s been asleep the past ten years.”
Jay snorted.
“Did Gary say when he’d last seen Emily?”
“At the family dinner table. They all had an early dinner together before the three oldest kids split for their activities. That was the last time he saw her.”
“Fred told me they’d all had dinner together, too. Jay?”
“Yep. Marjorie said the same thing. She told us that both parents and the four children had a “Friday night crab feed” at home to celebrate Susan’s sixteenth birthday. The crab feed was a family tradition, and Marjorie thought it would be a fun way to mark them all being together.”
“I can confirm that the dinner fare part of their story is true,” said Fern. “I ran into the mayor at the Crab Shack yesterday. He was buying several big crabs.”
“Why were you there?” Matt asked.
“Because it was Friday, and I wanted some clams for the weekend. Is there a law against that?”
“You are now an accomplice in the crustacean conspiracy,” Jay smirked, trying to lighten the room’s atmosphere.
“Just curious,” Matt said.
“Did Gary mention if anything about Emily’s behavior at dinner seemed odd or unusual?” Matt said, moving on.
“He said she was her normal, sweet self, and that they’d all had a good time together,” Ed said. “Gary answered all my questions directly, and didn’t seem to be hiding anything. I think he was telling the truth, and that he honestly wants to help us find the killer. We’ll see if his alibi checks out.”
Matt’s cell phone rang, and, looking at his phone, he said to the group, “I have to take this—it’s Dr. Ryder.”
“Chief Horning? It’s Bernice Ryder.”
“Dr. Ryder.”
They both would have been more comfortable with “Matt” and “Bernice”, but, somehow, the gravity of the situation seemed to call for a degree of formality. Bernice jumped right in.
“Emily Bushnell died of a front-to-back, right-to-left stab wound to the abdomen, between 7:00 and 11:00 p.m. last night,” she reported. “Her liver, small intestine, and descending aorta were perforated. Your murder weapon is likely a knife with approximately an eight-inch blade, serrated like a kitchen utility knife. Like I told you yesterday, hemoperitoneum, hemorrhage and a quick death.”
“Was she sexually assaulted?” Matt asked.
“No. No sign of any molestation at all.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. There were slight bruises on both of her upper arms, and one two-inch scrape near her right ankle. Otherwise, the only other damage to the body are the bite wounds I showed you on her neck and upper arm, and two more I discovered on her chest. They are human bites.”
“Good God,” said Matt.
“Yes,” replied Bernice. “If it helps, I don’t think there was much of a struggle. I suspect she lost consciousness almost immediately. It was over quickly.”
“Who would kill a little girl if they hadn’t sexually assaulted her?” Matt said rhetorically. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.”
“Like what?”
“Hell if I know. You’re the cop. Oops, that came out a little snippier than I intended. Sorry,” Bernice apologized. “My mouth does that.”
Matt ignored it. “Did she have any drugs or alcohol in her system?”
“No. Just her dinner. And, there was an absence of any significant natural disease.”
“So, no drugs, no molestation, no motive to kill this little girl. But human bite marks on the body.” Matt was frustrated. He heard a small moan escape from Fern.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more,” Bernice said. “This one doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”
“Do you send me a written report?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve given you the highlights, and my report will include all the technical details. I’ll write it up immediately, and get it to you today before our meeting. Do you have a city email address yet?”
Matt smiled through the wires. “Hell if I know. Probably not. I’ll work on that. Thanks, Dr. Ryder. I really appreciate your diligence here.”
Hitting the “end” button, Matt looked up at his colleagues
who were all staring at him wide-eyed. “We’ve got nothing, friends.
Nothing. And I’m scared.”
Chapter 8
Saturday, 2:00 p.m.
Jay recounted that his statement from Marjorie differed slightly from what Gary told Ed Sonders, and both he and Fern had felt more uneasy about her as their interview progressed. Jay described to the chief and Ed how the interrogation of Marjorie had unfolded.
Marjorie told them she had spread newspaper over the dining room table, like when the children were little, and rounded up a couple of small hammers. She and the girls used the handle of a hefty flatware knife to crack the crabs, but the boys in her family liked to use a hammer, she shared with them.
It had been a rollicking affair, and they ate crab, along with her homemade tomato soup and bread until they were all stuffed. Ice cream for dessert, of course. Gary had regaled his family with tales from his first semester in Eugene at U of O. They laughed at his description of the “hippie culture”, and thrilled to the newness of his dorm life in Bean Hall.
After dinner, they had all parted ways. Marjorie and Fred stayed at home, and watched a Netflix movie. Jay did the questioning, but Fern popped in occasionally in an attempt to keep Marjorie at ease, and was proud of herself for asking what they’d seen. Turns out, they’d watched an old “Poirot” mystery about an actor who had been killed on
stage.
Jack had gone to the movies in town, like he’d said. Marjorie didn’t know which movie he’d seen, and wrung her hands together at that admission. “I should know what movie my son is seeing, shouldn’t I?” she said, biting her lip. “It was a last-minute decision by Jack, and he rushed out the door before I thought to ask him what he was going to see.” She sounded a titch guarded to Fern.
“How did he get to the movie?” asked Jay. “He’s not driving yet, is he? How old is Jack?”
“He’s 14, and, no, not driving yet. He’s dying to, though, and Fred is teaching him. They go to the Community Center parking lot after closing and Fred lets him drive around there. He’s getting pretty good at it, Fred says. Don’t tell,” she said as an afterthought.
“The boy’s got to learn somehow, doesn’t he?” Jay smiled. He was genuine, but it couldn’t hurt to get on Marjorie’s good side until they got through this.
Susan had dropped Jack off at the town’s only movie theater about 6:30 p.m. She was on her way to her friend Chloe’s house for a slumber party which started then, and the theater—less than a mile from the Bushnell residence—was on Susan’s route. Chloe was hosting the party to celebrate her BFF Susan’s upcoming sixteenth birthday, and there were to be seven friends at the sleepover.
Jack was to catch a ride home with a buddy after the movie. Marjorie assumed that plan had hatched successfully, but she couldn’t say for sure as both she and Fred had fallen asleep on the couch during their movie.
Because they had both been groggy, they didn’t check on the kids’ rooms. But Marjorie remembered that the light from Jack’s room showed under his door, so she knew he was home but still up—he was always persnickety about turning out his light when he wasn’t in his room. Fred had put Emily to bed right after Susan and Jack left, and Marjorie noticed that her light was off and the bedroom was quiet when she and Fred turned the corner at the end of the hallway and went upstairs to their bedroom.