Shallow Waters

by Kay Jennings

  “Sorry, dad.”

  “Has he ever been ‘perturbed’ toward you previously?” Matt asked Fred.

  “No, not really. Fergus is a good guy. It’s just that this time of year, without an abundance of fresh crops and fresh tourists, all the farmers around these parts get a little antsy.”

  “Does Fergus live in town?”

  “Sort of. He lives north a bit. You take 101 out of town, and then turn right on the north side of the river. Probably about four miles. I don’t think Fergus meant any harm,” said Fred. “He’s a pretty good guy.”

  “But he blew a gasket at you, dad,” insisted Jack.

  “Yes, he yelled, but he was just frustrated because he’s not making much money this winter,” Fred said. “You’ll understand that when you’re older. I don’t think he was mad at me, specifically.”

  “Just kind of a ‘mad at the universe’ thing, you think?” asked Matt.

  “Exactly.”

  “Is there anyone else you can think of who would want to harm you or your family?”

  “I’ll think more about it, but, no, I can’t think of anyone,” Fred said. “At least, no one who could be disturbed enough to hurt Emily. It doesn’t make any sense,” he said staring at Matt with dead eyes.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Matt agreed. “But someone killed her, and we have to figure out who had the means, motive, and opportunity.”

  Chapter 17

  Sunday, 9:30 a.m.

  Jay, Fern, Marjorie, and Susan took up positions at the dining room table. Fern made a note that the mother and daughter seated opposite her were not sitting particularly close to one another.

  Jay walked Marjorie and Susan through their alibis, and nothing substantial had changed in the telling of their stories. He followed up on names and contact information for the girls at Susan’s slumber party.

  “Will they all have to know what happened to Em?” asked a distraught Susan.

  “Eventually, yes,” answered Jay. “But we’re going to try to keep the details of our investigation as private as we can for now.”

  “Thank you for that, Jay,” said Marjorie.

  “The fewer people who know what happened, the easier it is for us to catch potential suspects by surprise.”

  “And it buys your family some time to cope with your grief,” added Fern. “The news will get out. It always does in Port Stirling, but we’ll try to protect your privacy as long as we can.”

  “I want to talk about your whereabouts and activities earlier this week,” said Jay. “And whether you had any angry or unpleasant encounters with anyone in town. Let’s start with that last part—any run-ins with anyone? Anybody mad at you or your family for any reason?”

  Marjorie squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Well, I saw Ted Frolick wandering too close to the road a couple of days ago when I drove into town,” Marjorie said. “He was walking with traffic and could have easily been hit from behind, so I rolled down my window and told him he was too close to the road. He flipped me the bird and kept walking. Can you believe it? I’m trying to help the old geezer and he gives me the finger,” she said shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Does he know who you are?” Jay asked.

  “Well, of course, he knows who I am. I’m the mayor’s wife; everyone knows who I am.” She looked at Jay and he knew she was thinking: What kind of foolish question is that?

  “Why do you think he reacted that way?” Jay persisted. “It would seem to me that he would thank you and move away from the road.”

  “Who knows?” Marjorie said. “Ted has bats in the belfry. Next time I’ll let him get hit.”

  “Anyone else you can think of who seemed angry at you or Fred this week?”

  “Well, there are always people unhappy with Fred because of city policies, but it never amounts to anything. One did come to the house this week—Fergus Dunbar, he’s a farmer, and we buy a weekly produce basket from him. He was raging at Fred about something.”

  “When was this?”

  “I think it was Tuesday evening.”

  “What exactly did he say to Fred? Did he threaten him?”

  “I didn’t pay any attention, sorry,” said Marjorie. “Fergus is a hippie and I don’t have patience with those people. I do like his vegetables, however,” she added.

  “He was mad at dad because dad won’t do more to help the farmers,” said Susan. She was slumped in her chair, and her breathing was a little shallow. “I listened to him. Dad got him calmed down, and Mr. Dunbar left. I don’t think he would hurt Em, he’s a nice man. I like him.”

  “O.K, I’ll note his name just in case,” said Jay. “Anyone else?”

  “No, Fergus and old Frolick are the only ones I can think of,” Marjorie said.

  “Moving on then, who took care of Emily on Friday?”

  Marjorie answered, “She was with me the entire day.”

  “What did the two of you do?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual—shopping, errands, cooking.”

  “Did Emily act different than normal?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing unusual at all in her behavior?” Jay asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “While you were out and about town, is there a chance that Emily saw something she wasn’t meant to see?” Fern asked Marjorie.

  “Like what?” asked Marjorie.

  “You know, mom, like a big drug deal going down,” said Susan.

  “Yeah, something like that,” Fern said looking at Susan.

  “Certainly not,” said Marjorie. “Don’t be ridiculous, Susan. We didn’t see or do anything out of the ordinary. It was just another day.”

  “What about Thursday?” Jay continued. “Where was Emily the day before?”

  “I took her to the doctor on Thursday morning,” Marjorie said. “She had a little cough, and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

  “Was it?” asked Jay.

  “Was it what?” Marjorie said.

  “Something to worry about?”

  “No, she was just getting over a case of the sniffles. Our doctor said she simply needed another day or two of rest. He said to keep her as quiet as I could, and she’d be fine.”

  “What else did you do on Thursday?” Jay asked.

  “We went to Summers’ Pharmacy, and to Toni’s Threads to shop.”

  “I love that store, too,” said Fern. “What did you buy?”

  “I bought a cashmere sweater.”

  “It’s real pretty,” added Susan. “That was the new red sweater you were wearing Friday, right?”

  “Yes, sweetie. One needs a bright color to get through January sometimes.”

  “Did you leave Emily in the car at any time when you were

  shopping?” Jay asked.

  Marjorie shifted her weight in her chair. “I might have left her just for a minute when I ran into the pharmacy to pick up a prescription,” she said, her voice thin and defensive.

  “Where was that?” Jay asked.

  “At Summer’s Pharmacy. I’m not about to go to that new impersonal Rite Aid,” Marjorie huffed. Jay thought he saw the tip of her nose raise up in the air slightly. OK, we’re not going to Rite Aid. Got it.

  “Any other time Emily might have been alone for a few minutes?”

  “No, I don’t think so. At least, not while we were out of the house. She played in her room and watched TV in the family room. She was curled up on the floor with her blankie. The Muppets were on.”

  “How did she act when you came out of the pharmacy? Any different than when you’d left her?” Jay continued.

  Marjorie looked over at the painting on the wall behind Jay’s left shoulder. He didn’t know his British castles all that well, but he thought it might be an oil painting of Windsor Castle. It looked like it
had hung there forever.

  “She might have been a little subdued,” Marjorie said. “But she did have a cold, and it was getting late in the afternoon, so she was probably a little pooped out.”

  “Did she say anything when you returned to the car?”

  “Just ‘are we going home now, mommy?’ That’s what she always says when we come back to the car.”

  “Were you in the habit of leaving her alone in the car?” Fern asked.

  Marjorie glared at her. “Do you have children, Fern?” she said.

  “No, Mrs. Bushnell, I don’t.”

  “Then your question is out of line.”

  “We are trying to investigate your daughter’s death,” said Fern. “I would think you would want us to understand any family patterns that might help Jay and the Chief get to the bottom of your tragedy.”

  “Was that all Emily said: ‘are we going home now’?” Jay inserted. “Did she say anything like ‘I saw Billy and Wendy’, or I saw Mr. Huggins’? Anything like that?”

  “No. Nothing else. If she saw anything strange, she didn’t mention it. Emily was essentially with me entirely on both days - Thursday and Friday,” Marjorie’s jaw quivered. “If she saw something she shouldn’t have, she never told me.”

  * * *

  Sunday, 10:00 a.m.

  In the Bushnell kitchen, Matt’s cell phone rang, and he recognized Patty Perkins’ number.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Fred and Jack, and slipped out through the sliding glass door that led to a cement patio.

  “Hi, Patty. What’s up?”

  “Thank you for picking up. I’ve uncovered something intriguing during my questioning of Ted Frolick.”

  “Are you still at his place?”

  “No, I’ve got a statement from him, and I’m in City Hall writing up my report, but I wanted to get to you while you are still with the Bushnells. Get ready - this is a bombshell,” Patty continued.

  “OK, you’ve got my attention,” Matt said.

  “It seems that one of our local firemen, Craig Kenton, might be having an affair with Marjorie Bushnell. Ted Frolick has seen them together twice, once in compromising circumstances.”

  Matt, stunned, grunted, “Huh? Would she dare do anything that dumb in a village this size, the mayor’s wife? Everyone would know, wouldn’t they?”

  “That’s exactly what I thought when I first heard about it,” said Patty. “Marjorie is a lot of things, but I never pegged her for dumb. Frolick told me he first saw Marjorie and Kenton coming out of the A-frame cabin below the Pacific View Motel. Frolick was down on the beach directly below them, and recognized them both. They stood clutching each other and kissing. Frolick said they looked like they were saying ‘good-bye’.”

  “But Frolick has a reputation for being a little—how shall I say—quirky, doesn’t he?”

  “I know, I know,” said Patty, waving one hand in the air for emphasis, even though she was the only person in the War Room. “Frolick might not be the most reliable witness, but he’s not as crazy as people say. It’s possible that he’s got some dementia starting, but he’s aware of his situation, and he knows when he’s in the moment and when he isn’t. He knows both Marjorie and Kenton, and swears it was them. He told me they didn’t see him because he was on the far side of two big rocks, and he hid when he saw them.”

  “You said he saw them together twice; when was the time at the cabin, and when and where was the second time?” Matt asked, at full attention.

  “He saw them leaving the cabin about a month ago—he couldn’t remember the exact day. But he said it was mid-morning on a weekday. And then he saw them again last week in the parking lot behind Goodie’s Market, pulled up in both of their cars and talking out the windows.” Patty looked down at the table and shuffled through her notes. “Frolick also said that Emily was with her mother in the car’s back seat in the parking lot,” she added in a quieter voice. “He thought it might have been on Thursday afternoon.”

  “So you think Marjorie might have been worried that Emily would say something to her dad about ‘mommy talking to a strange man’?”

  “It’s a real possibility, don’t you think?” Patty answered.

  “Holy shit,” Matt said. “Yes, it’s a possibility. Four-year-olds often say whatever pops into their head. Another possibility is that maybe Emily told her daddy about ‘mommy and the strange man in the parking lot’, and daddy decided he didn’t want that story getting out.”

  “Also a possibility,” Patty had to admit.

  “What if Frolick was trying to deflect your attention away

  from him?”

  “I considered that, Chief. But if he did, it was fast thinking on his part. I surprised him at his house while he was working in his garden. Unless he prepared this story in case we got on to him, it was fairly elaborate considering he didn’t know I was coming to talk to him. And it didn’t feel rehearsed to me—it just came up in our conversation. I’m—probably like you—a hard evidence kind of gal. But I also rely on my gut instincts, especially in the early stages of an investigation. I’ve been doing this a long time, Chief, and my gut on Frolick is that he was telling me the truth. There were too many details that someone making up a story on the spot wouldn’t have included.”

  “Marjorie is a key player in this case,” Matt said. “Whether Frolick is telling the truth or lying, this is still an important lead we need to follow, Patty. We need to know if it’s true, and, if it is true, did Fred know about the affair. This will be fun…not,” said Matt, shaking his head.

  “Yeah,” Patty agreed.

  “In any event, I’ll check it out. If Frolick is telling the truth, it’s our first possible motive in this ugly case,” Matt said. “I won’t quiz Marjorie about it yet. We’ll want to find this Kenton guy, and talk to him simultaneously when we confront Marjorie. If it’s true, we don’t want the two lovebirds to get their stories straight. Can you hang out at City Hall until we wrap up this round here?”

  “Sure. I’ll finish my report, and then eat lunch if you’re not back.”

  “Do you have any idea where we might find Mr. Kenton?”

  “Frolick said in addition to being a fireman, he also works at the hardware store. He’s probably working today. Do you want me to go talk to him?”

  Matt reflected for a moment. “Not yet, Patty. I’m inclined to send Ed to question Kenton. I think a big, strong state cop might be a bit more intimidating than you or me to a fireman. I’ll stick with Marjorie while we see what Ed turns up.”

  Patty laughed. “If I had something to hide, yeah, Ed would intimidate me. Good choice. I’ll do some background checking on Frolick, and I’ll catch you later.”

  “One more thing, and I’m looking for your gut instinct here. Is Ted Frolick a suspect, in your view?” Matt asked her.

  “Possibly. He’s a bit of an odd duck, but if I had to bet the farm on it, I’d say no, I don’t think Frolick killed Emily. He doesn’t seem like the violent type. He’d rather outsmart you.”

  “Good work here, Patty. I’m on it, and we’ll see you back at the ranch. Thanks.”

  Before Matt re-entered the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Fred and Jack. Jack leaned forward with his arms crossed on the kitchen table, and his head resting on them. He faced away from his father, and his eyes were closed. Fred rested one hand on the boy’s back, and stared solemnly at the back of his son’s head. Either one of them might be a murderer, but, for now, if they had lost a daughter and a sister, Matt felt a stab of sorrow and pain for both of them.

  * * *

  Sunday, 9:30 a.m.

  While Ed believed Gary’s explanation of his Friday night, and still felt he was telling the truth, he felt a bit more uneasy about Gary this morning. There’s something a little off here, he thought. It’s like he’s not really who he pretends to be, or he
has more to tell.

  “What time did you get home?” Ed asked the oldest Bushnell sibling, who kept pulling on a stray hair sticking out from a mole on his left jaw.

  “It was late, man,” Gary answered with a self-conscious smile. “Two o’clock, maybe, 2:30, something like that.”

  “We talked to the woman who owns the Stirling Tavern—Paula—and she said she couldn’t swear to it that you never left the tavern Friday night. Said she didn’t keep her eye on you and your friends all night. When I asked her if you could have slipped out for an hour and then slipped back in, she said it was possible, and she might not have noticed. She had a big crowd Friday, and didn’t keep tabs on everyone. What do you say to that?”

  “Aww, she knows I was there all night,” Gary argued. “I talked to her off and on the whole time. I don’t know why she’d say a thing like that. That’s bullshit.”

  “We are going to interrogate your pals next. Is there anything you want to tell me before we see if they confirm your alibi…or not?”

  “Like what?” Gary snarled, finally dropping the ‘I’m such a good soul’ façade. “That I killed my baby sister? Is that what you want me to say? Well, I didn’t. I loved her. She was the only good thing in this fucked-up family. She was sweet and loving, and I loved her back. I would never hurt a hair on her beautiful head.” He started to cry, openly and without reserve.

  Ed was taken aback. “What’s so fucked up about your family?” he asked.

  “Everything,” Gary said through sobs. “For starters, don’t you wonder why Susan, Jack and me all look alike, and Emily doesn’t look like any of us? And she came along ten years after us?” he challenged.

  “I hadn’t noticed that she didn’t look like any of you,” Ed admitted. “Why do you mention it now?”

  “The three of us look like the perfect melding of Marjorie and Fred. Emily only resembles Marjorie. You figure it out,” spat Gary.

  “Are you suggesting that Emily was not Fred’s daughter?”

  “You’re not as dumb as you look.”