Murder By Duplicity

by B. T. Lord

  Rick whistled under his breath. “I see what you mean. If it’s scenario two or three, the killer is or was a local.”

  “Exactly.” She looked around again. “Humph.”

  “You said you know who the skeleton belongs to?”

  Cammie was seated in Bill’s spacious office. Surrounding her on the wall were framed photographs of all shapes and sizes showing the mayor with various state and local dignitaries including several, of course, of Bill with Eli Kelley.

  Twin Ponds’ town offices were in a one story brick building at the end of Main Street. Because the county itself was about the size of Rhode Island, administration wasn’t extensive and many responsibilities were ably performed by a handful of people.

  The Office of the Mayor was in the back of the building, overlooking part of the athletic field that belonged to the high school. On some days, when the wind was blowing in the right direction, conversation in Bill’s office was drowned out by the cheers of spectators and the announcer calling out the football or baseball plays. Which helped explained Bill’s normally loud, bombastic way of speaking.

  Since making his startling announcement at Waban Pond earlier that day, Bill had regained his slightly arrogant, collected demeanor. He was now seated behind his humongous oak desk that he’d had custom made years ago to make himself, as it was widely believed around town, more intimidating to the average citizen.

  Cammie didn’t have the heart to tell him that the desk may have been intimidating, but he was not. He’d been mayor for so long, he was more like that comfortable old shoe you just hate to throw out because occasionally it serves its purpose, whether it’s slipping it on to take out the garbage or squashing a bug. Bill was pretty much the same way. In a town that was remote and surrounded on all sides by dense wilderness, the large, obese man acted as if he was mayor of a huge city like Chicago or New York. Part of the façade of being the most powerful politician in Clarke County was to make sure he had the best of everything, from the furniture in his office, to the expensive suits he wore, to having one of the most beautiful homes in the area. People forgave his narcissism because when he was truly needed to do something in his job as mayor, Bill did it. They also knew that behind his sometimes condescending arrogance, he always had the best interests of Twin Ponds at heart. He was dependable and approachable, even if he never let you forget it.

  The two had known each other ever since she played for the town hockey team back in high school. He was a huge supporter of the Night Hawks, going so far as to occasionally give them pep talks just before important games. He reveled in these talks, convinced they were an integral part in the team’s winning strategy. In truth, the players had long ago learned to tune him out. Not because they didn’t want to win, but because Bill had a habit of equating every game with an historical battle. Sometimes they were compared to Wellington defeating Napoleon on the fields of Waterloo. Other times, they were the Germanic tribes beating back the Romans. His favorite, however, was the ill-fated three hundred Spartans led by King Leonidas, who all perished trying to keep the Persians from invading Greece. Not sure whether he wanted them to be the Spartans or the Persians, the team decided it was easier to just ignore him.

  She likened her own relationship with Bill to the ocean tides; it ebbed and flowed according to the gravitational pull of his personality. Sometimes they got along tremendously well, like a gentle ocean wave. Other times, like the roar of the sea during a hurricane, it took all she had not to strangle him. Yet despite their ups and downs, one thing never changed. She would always be grateful for his suggestion that she run for County Sheriff when she returned to Twin Ponds almost two years before.

  Cammie had walked away from the town of her birth nearly sixteen years ago, vowing never to return. When her father died, leaving his small two room cabin on the shores of Mkazawi Pond to her, she’d come back with the intention of selling it and returning to her job as a private investigator in Boston. To her surprise, she unexpectedly found a peace and serenity that she didn’t know she’d been seeking until she stood before the small pond and felt it wrap itself around her soul, welcoming her back through the quiet whisper of the trees and the gentle lapping of the water against the shoreline in front of the cabin. Her cabin now.

  She knew at that moment she wanted – needed to stay. But how was she going to support herself on the tiny inheritance her father had left her? It was then, like a seagull dive bombing a fish that Bill swooped in. For years, he’d wanted to open up Twin Ponds to the outside world. Surrounded by the beauty of Maine’s woods, he craved to bring in more outdoor enthusiasts to take advantage of its fishing, hunting, hiking, camping and photo opportunities. Cammie’s unexpected return to Twin Ponds fit in perfectly with his grand plan.

  Unlike the majority of the county’s past sheriffs, Cammie actually had law enforcement experience. He was impressed that she’d won Two Medals of Honor during her time as a police officer in Seattle. What better enticement to the outside world than to boast such a fine officer of the law living and working in their own town?

  With her wanting to stay and Bill hoping she’d stay, he convinced her to run for sheriff. With his wholehearted endorsement, she easily won with an overwhelming majority. His confidence in her was bolstered when, within months of each other, she solved two highly visible murder cases that had the potential of tearing the town apart.

  Now, here she was, sitting in Bill’s office, trying to get to the bottom of his strange statement, made stranger by the minute by his sudden and all too obvious – at least to her - backpedaling.

  “You misunderstood me,” he said smoothly. “I didn’t say I knew who the skeleton belonged to. I said I might know.”

  “Then who do you think it might be?”

  He spread his sausage like fingers on his green felted blotter. “As you know, this town was founded by loggers in the middle of the 19th century. It could very well belong to one of them. We actually found the remains of one such unfortunate lumberjack a few years back up near Crow Mountain. I just hope to God these bones don’t belong to a Native American. The uproar will be difficult to control, even though I swear I didn’t know there was a burial site there.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. We found the remains of a modern suit and tie. Doc has tentatively identified the skeleton as male and estimates he died between 2002 and 2007. He should be able to tell us the age of the individual once he gets the bones back to his lab.”

  Bill frowned. “Why would a man in a suit and tie go hiking in such a remote area?”

  “What makes you think he went hiking?”

  “What else would he be doing out there? He must have gone out for a hike, became lost and died.”

  “I hate to break your optimistic bubble, but he was murdered. The skull shows blunt force trauma to the back of the head – a fact, by the way, that I’d like kept under wraps for now. Our best guess is that he was struck from behind. Whoever did it dug a four foot hole and dumped him inside. If it weren’t for your construction crew, he’d still be out there.”

  “Dear God,” he exclaimed. “That’s terrible.” Cammie was about to commiserate when he continued, “What the hell is going to happen to my hotel? I’m on a strict timeline here. And I know how slow law enforcement works. This is going to set the whole project back and wreck my budget. The sooner you solve this thing, the sooner I can get the construction back on track.”

  She should have known better.

  She’d tried her best over the years not to butt heads with Bill over his large expansion plans for the town. But she was torn. Part of her knew how much their small economy would benefit by the influx of business and an increase in tourism. Yet the other part hated the idea of more trees felled to make room for more hotels, more traffic and the potential for more crime.

  In the name of progress, was Bill threatening that intangible that made Twin Ponds special?

  Listening to him now, she tried not to get upset. But some of her
anger still seeped through.

  “You do understand a human being was murdered and his body left to rot out in the forest?”

  He seemed to have realized his error and waved his hand at her. “Of course, of course.”

  “And I certainly hope you’re not impugning the reputation of my department.”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “Do you know of anyone who went missing back then?”

  Bill took his time answering. He sat back in his chair and slowly ran his finger over his chin. “I can’t say that I do. The fact is, people move in, people move out. Take you for example. You left us for fifteen years. If you hadn’t returned, you could be considered missing, now wouldn’t you?”

  Cammie studied him quietly for a moment, then stood up. “I’ll let you know what we find once Doc examines the bones.”

  “You do that. In the meantime, I’ll need to reassure our citizens they have nothing to worry about. Your department is on top of everything and we’ll have this solved in no time. In fact, I’ll call Mac over at the Gazette and give him an interview to that effect. That should set everyone’s minds at rest.”

  “Good idea. Just remember what I said. No word on how the victim died. If Mac asks, and you know he will, just say you have no idea what happened because it’s still an active investigation.”

  She let herself out and paused at the desk of his secretary, located directly outside his door.

  Margo Peabody had worked for Bill for over a decade. Although they thought they were being discreet, everyone knew they’d been sleeping together for years. He was widowed, she was divorced; there was no need to hide. But the town assumed they liked the added spice of a forbidden relationship, even if that forbiddance was in their own minds.

  Tall and rail-thin, with dyed reddish brown hair and heavy make-up that did nothing to soften the hardness of her features, Margo was the consummate professional. No one got to Bill unless they went through her first. She was intensely protective of him and to hear her speak, it was as though she worked for the President of the United States, which only added to Bill’s sense of self-importance.

  Looking at her now, Cammie wondered just how many of Bill’s and the town’s secrets the loyal Margo kept close to her chest.

  “I certainly hope you can solve this terrible mystery as soon as possible. Mayor Barnes has put too much time and effort into this project to have it destroyed over a set of bones being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Cammie knew she should just keep her mouth shut and leave. But there was something in Margo’s impervious tone that set her teeth on edge.

  “I’m sure the owner of those bones would certainly have preferred not to turn up there either.”

  Margo sucked in her breath as she glared at Cammie for a moment before abruptly turning her back and focusing her attention on a pile of papers on her desk.

  The sheriff inwardly smiled as she walked down the corridor. With each step, however, she felt a familiar tug in the pit of her stomach. Her instincts had saved her on more occasions than she could count, and she’d learned to rely heavily on them.

  This was one of those occasions.

  Exiting into the blinding sun, she whipped on her sunglasses and climbed into the Explorer. She drove away, all the while thinking, knowing that for reasons yet unknown, Bill had completely and effortlessly lied to her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As happens in many small towns, especially isolated ones like Twin Ponds where gossip is as necessary to the inhabitants as breathing, word of the skeleton spread like wildfire. Within 24 hours of the unearthing of the bones, and despite Bill’s reassuring interview in the Twin Ponds Gazette, Cammie and her staff found themselves inundated with rumors that the meadow where the remains were found was actually a dumping ground for a serial killer. The body count kept rising with each telling until, two days later, it had risen to over twenty victims. They’d just managed to quash that rumor when another arose that declared the new hotel was sure to be cursed and anyone staying there was taking their lives into their hands. That understandably brought down the wrath, not only of Bill, but of the small business owners up and down Main Street who were depending on this hotel to bring in more added revenue.

  Worried these stories would incite a rash of panic and fear in the town, Cammie and her staff went into overdrive. She visited Mac herself and had him print that only one set of bones over a decade old had been found. No, they didn’t know cause of death yet. And if anyone knew of any missing persons within the last 15 years, to please come to the Sheriff’s Department. She and Rick then stopped by the two main centers of gossip – Lars Landry’s Grocery Emporium where the post office was located, and Zee’s Bar and Grille, where they enlisted the help of the proprietors to do their best to calm people down by presenting the facts.

  For the moment, it seemed to be working. There was no more talk about serial killers or cursed hotels. But it didn’t stop Cammie from trying to trace the source of the rumors. To her surprise, the trail led to both Tudor Montgomery, proprietor of the Shakespeare in the Woods Inn, a beautifully fashioned replica of Shakespeare’s birthplace that offered the Bard’s plays several times a year, and Wally Lyons, owner of The Timberwolf Lodge which catered to hunting and fishing enthusiasts. When confronted, each claimed they’d heard the rumor from the other. Cammie knew it was a crock. She was convinced they’d colluded in order to stop what they considered unnecessary competition from Bill’s new hotel. Despite her suspicions, she asked them to cooperate in trying to diffuse the situation.

  “We don’t want a circumstance similar to someone yelling fire in a crowded theatre to develop here. Fear is contagious and once it’s set loose, it’s extremely difficult to call back.” She saw they weren’t convinced. “Besides it would be in your best interests to stop these rumors in their tracks. No one is going to want to vacation in a serial killer’s backyard, or go hunting and fishing in a cursed forest.”

  That did the trick and by the next day, the rumors had died away.

  “Sometimes I wonder why I don’t become a librarian,” she said to Rick as the two shared a cup of coffee in her office a few days after the discovery of the bones. The temperatures were already hot outside despite it only being nine am. She was grateful for the air conditioning, never having been one who enjoyed the sizzling summer days. Cammie’s idea of the perfect day was temperatures in the 70’s with a refreshing breeze.

  “Because you’d be bored out of your mind, waiting for the moment when you could unleash Armageddon on someone’s ass for being five minutes late with an overdue book,” he pointed out.

  She chuckled. “You’re probably right. But we’d never have an overdue book again.”

  “People giving you a hard time?”

  “Nah. Just every business up and down Main Street, who don’t seem to understand that we can’t allow construction to go forward until the crime scene has been thoroughly processed.”

  “Which could take a while.”

  “Yes.”

  Rick took a sip of his coffee. “Let me guess. The loudest of the people wanting the project to go forward is the big man himself – Mayor Bill Barnes.”

  “You got it. At least the rumors about Twin Ponds having a serial killer have calmed down.”

  “Thank God. I was getting a bit tired having to defend the department for not doing more to save everyone from The Monster of the Meadow.”

  Cammie raised an eyebrow. “The Monster of the Meadow?”

  “Yeah. A bit dramatic, I admit. But it does have a flare to it, don’t you think?”

  At that moment, Emmy poked her head into the office.

  At 23 years of age, Emmy Madachuck was mature, dependable and a true asset to the sheriff’s department. She was also, unbeknownst to the town, an accomplished computer hacker whose skills Cammie had no problem calling upon in an emergency.

  A stickler for always being color coordinated, the slightly chubby young woman wore a pair
of dark blue chinos, a white top and a blue and white ribbon in her long hair.

  “Sheriff, Cora Cameron is outside. She’s pretty upset and insists on speaking with you.”

  Rick immediately got up from where he’d been seated across from Cammie’s desk and placed himself directly behind her chair, smacking the back of her head with his belt buckle. She turned her head and looked up at him.’

  “You’re in my personal space,” she replied. “Please move.”

  “No can do. You never know what spell Cora is going to throw at you. Gran gave me a powerful charm that protects me and everyone within a six foot radius of me.” He withdrew a gold chain that lay around his neck. At the end of the chain was a white amulet with lines and carvings etched into it. “This will keep that crazy old woman’s voodoo shit away from you.”

  “Save me,” Cammie whispered under her breath.

  “That’s why I’m standing here.”

  The tiny, eighty-nine year old woman, who thought of herself as a powerful witch, had once loathed Cammie, chasing her down the street whenever she saw her, reciting nonsensical incantations while throwing bundles of god-knows-what at her. But after solving the murder of Eli Kelley, Cora had suddenly and unexpectedly come around, pronouncing to all who would listen that Cammie was now ‘a good egg’.

  She thought to explain this all to Rick, but she didn’t have time. They heard the unmistakable sounds of a cane striking the floor. A few moments later, Cora appeared in the doorway.

  Cammie blinked in astonishment. The slightly shriveled woman, who weighed no more than ninety pounds, was dressed in a pair of super tight, blazing orange yoga pants with matching neon orange sneakers and an oversized tie-dyed T-shirt that announced, Eighty is the New Forty. Her brittle iron grey hair was pulled up into two small pigtails on either side of her balding head.