Murder By Duplicity

by B. T. Lord

  “I’ll have to think about it. I mean, the poor man is dead.”

  “What if I promise never to cast any spells ever again?”

  “Ever again?”

  Cora hesitated, then nodded. “Ever again.”

  “So no more spells, charms, fortune telling?”

  Cora pulled herself up. “I do not do fortune telling. I do readings. There’s a difference.”

  Cammie smiled. “Oh yes, of course. Sorry about that.” She stood up. “Tell you what. I’ll see what Doc discovers during autopsy. Could be Steepman already had a bad heart. If he did, there’s no telling what gave him the heart attack.”

  “You mean you’re not going to arrest me?”

  “As long as you keep to your promise of not doing anything to anyone, and depending on what Doc finds, we’ll keep this between the three of us for now.”

  Cora looked up at Cammie and smiled for the first time. “I knew you were a good egg.” She stood up. “The truth is, this whole thing with Steeper the Peeper has made me realize it’s time to retire. That’s the thing about spells. You can’t always control them. And now that I’m even more powerful than even I imagined, I gotta be careful.” She uttered a dramatic sigh. “I’ve now got the burden on my shoulders of being a superpower in the witch world. There’s a responsibility to that that I need to take seriously.”

  “You made the right decision, Cora. We’ll walk you out to your car.”

  After watching Cora drive off, Rick let out a laugh. “Great job, boss. Now we don’t have to worry about that crazy old lady throwing those bundles of god knows what at people anymore.”

  Cammie chuckled. “Who said miracles don’t exist?”

  Steepman’s property was surrounded by tall hedges on three sides that kept him isolated from the other houses encircling him. As Cammie feared, no one saw or heard anything out of the ordinary, though one of the neighbors, the elderly Mrs. Hatcher who lived diagonally across from Steepman, did hear a car roll down the road.

  “I know it was at four pm because that’s when my favorite soap opera starts.”

  “You didn’t get up to see who it was?”

  She shook her head. “And miss my show?”

  “Did you often hear cars going down to Steepman’s house?”

  “Considering the sort of individual he was, he didn’t have any friends, or at least I never saw any visitors.”

  “You don’t know of any family?”

  “I never saw any and he never spoke of it – that is, the few times we did speak. He was a very private man.”

  “And you weren’t the least bit curious about the car driving down to his house?”

  “Why should I be?”

  Cammie tried to keep her frustration out of her voice as she and Mrs. Hatcher seemed to be going round and round.

  “Because you just said no one visited him.”

  “No one did.”

  “Yet you heard a car drive down to his house.”

  “I didn’t know if the car was going to Mr. Steepman’s house.”

  “Mrs. Hatcher, there’s no other house down there. It’s a dead end.”

  “I know. That’s why cars always drive down there to turn around. It happens all the time.”

  So much for that line of questioning.

  By the time she and Rick met back up, the only solid piece of information they had, besides the fact that the end of the street was used by many as a turn around, was that many locals used it as parking lot when they went to fish at a stream yards away from Steepman’s property line.

  Forensics was finishing up when they approached the house.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Colin smiled as Cammie came up. “Next time, try to have a suspicious death in a place that has peach margaritas and no mosquitoes.” As if to prove his point, he squashed one that landed on his neck.

  “I’ll do my best,” she answered. “Find anything of interest?”

  “Besides the fact that your vic loved expensive gewgaws? If you decide to have a garage sale once this case is solved, let me know. He has some electronic equipment I wouldn’t mind owning.”

  “You’ll have to fight Rick. I think he already has dibs on that stuff.”

  He shrugged. “Oh well, easy come, easy go. We did find some hairs on the back of the lounge chair, and lifted some fingerprints from inside the house. We’ll be taking his vehicle in to do a sweep. We also found a laptop. Of course, it’s password protected, but my guys back at the lab will have it open in no time.”

  “Maybe the fibers will help us find who killed him. Or better yet, an email from the killer announcing his intention.” She glanced back at the house. “Colin, while you guys were inside, did you happen to find anything that resembles a safety deposit box key?”

  “Can’t say that we did. We’ve got his keychain bagged, but it only has a house and car key on it.”

  “Do you mind if Rick and I have a go at trying to find it?”

  “Be my guest. Just make sure you wear booties and gloves. We’re not quite done processing the scene yet.”

  She started to walk away before turning back. “There’s something buried under the lounge chair you might find interesting.”

  His eyes lit up as he grabbed a trowel and hurried over.

  “You planning on taking over as the new witch superpower by having the lab discover what Cora put in her charm?” Rick teased as they walked towards the house.

  “You never know. It could be a valuable tool in my law enforcement tool box.”

  Not sure if she was serious, he thought it best to drop it.

  They spent over an hour going through every inch of the house, trying to figure out where Steepman could have hidden the key. The only thing they found, which Forensics hadn’t yet, was a stash of DVDs hidden in his bedroom closet behind a stack of shoes.

  “I think I’m going to hurl,” Rick said as he read aloud the titles. “Merry Triple X-mas, Star Whores, Sex in Every City.”

  “You’re going to leave me traumatized for life if you continue reading those titles.”

  “Even with gloves on, I’m washing my hands in bleach and detergent. Twice.”

  “Where the hell would he have hidden the damned key?” Cammie groused in frustration.

  “Considering what a sick mind Steeper the Peeper had, who knows what he came up with? Besides, once Judge Drury gets back from his fishing vacation in Canada and grants us our warrant, we’ll be able to get in there without the key.”

  Cammie put her hands on her hips as she looked around. “The little perv was certainly good at hiding things, wasn’t he?”

  “And how. He’s a regular pack-rat of sex-tapes.”

  After finding even more porn under the mattress, they decided to call it quits. “I’m pretty open minded about sex, but even my imagination couldn’t come up with some of those positions,” Rick replied when they walked out of the house.

  “Only a double jointed acrobat that can dislocate every bone in their body could manage some of those.” She shuddered. “Let’s change the subject before my brain melts.”

  “What do you say we grab a late lunch before heading back to HQ?”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “You actually have an appetite after viewing all that crap?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not my cup of tea, but whatever rocks your boat.”

  She shook her head as she slid into the Explorer. “There was enough in there to rock an ocean liner. If even half that shit was on the Titanic, now I know why it sank.”

  The lunch crowd was already gone when Cammie and Rick arrived. They sat in the back near the bar and placed their order.

  “You’re really digging that Farnsworth Burger, aren’t you?” Rick joked after they’d placed their order. “How many is that you’ve eaten now?”

  “None of your damned business,” she countered, which sent him into peals of laughter.

  When Zee brought them their drinks – root beer for Rick and ginger
ale for Cammie, she asked, “What have you been hearing about Steepman’s death?”

  “Everyone thinks it was either a stroke or a heart attack. Most think it was perfect karma, considering his interesting peccadillos. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious, that’s all.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she refused to say more. He started to turn away when he abruptly turned back. “If you’re so curious to what people are talking about, it’s not Steepman that’s on everyone’s minds. It’s Bill Barnes.”

  “Bill? Why?”

  “The scuttlebutt around town is that he’s the one who murdered George Peabody.”

  “Damn it,” Cammie muttered.

  “You can’t blame people for thinking that. Those who were here remember how much those two men detested each other. Throw in the fact that for years he’s been sleeping with George’s wife and you have yourself a fine recipe for suspicious pie.”

  “Lovely.”

  “All I can say is that until you either arrest him or prove that he’s innocent, people are going to talk. People love political scandals, and this is a humdinger.”

  After he left their table, Rick looked at her. “Zee’s right.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And now that we know he’s been giving Margo a monthly allowance for, like, forever…” He shrugged.

  “I know, I know,” she said. “But we can’t jump to conclusions.”

  “You and I can’t. But that doesn’t stop the town from doing just that.”

  “I can only imagine what Bill is going through. His whole end all and be all is his position as mayor. To think that people believe he’s a murderer has got to be killing him.”

  “Like the way he maybe killed George?” She threw him a warning look. “Just sayin’, that’s all.”

  “Well, don’t say it. We have no proof yet that Bill was involved.” She took a sip of her ginger ale. “I better swing by Bill’s place after work and see how he’s doing.”

  They spent most of their lunch hour trying to eat their meal in peace. Unfortunately word quickly spread they were in Zee’s, and the two officers were soon inundated with townspeople asking about the ongoing investigation into George Peabody’s murder. Cammie and Rick did their best to calm everyone’s concerns while stemming the escalation of gossip. By the time they got back to HQ, they thought they’d done the best job they could.

  “Did you notice how no one asked about Steepman’s death?” she asked Rick as they entered HQ. “Looks like we’ll get some breathing space to figure out who killed him.”

  Emmy met them at the door. “I checked on the lottery theory, but Mr. Steepman never won anything, though he did occasionally play. I also checked to see if he had any relatives or next of kin that he may have inherited some money from. Unfortunately, the only relative he had was a maiden aunt who died about five years ago. And before you ask, she was living on social security.”

  “Thanks, Emmy.”

  “This came in while you were gone,” she continued as she handed Cammie a piece of paper. “That’s Lucy Perez’s phone number. Only it’s now Lucy Ortiz. She got married seven years ago and is living in Orlando, Florida.”

  A few moments later, Cammie and Rick were seated in her office, listening on speaker phone as the call was picked up.

  “Hello,” came a young, pleasant sounding voice.

  “Is this Lucy Ortiz?” Cammie asked.

  “Yes it is. Who is this?”

  “This is Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth from the Twin Ponds Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Hey, Lucy. I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Rick Belleveau.”

  “Rick!” Lucy exclaimed. “Of course I remember you! How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m now Deputy here in Twin Ponds.”

  “Oh that’s fantastic. You always wanted to be a police officer.”

  “Did you ever open up another bakery?”

  “No time. I’ve got three rambunctious boys that don’t give me time to even think.” She laughed as she said this.

  “Lucy,” Cammie replied, “we’re calling because we found skeletal remains in the woods that we believe belong to George Peabody. We need to ask you a few questions about what happened between the two of you.”

  There was a small gasp on the other side of the phone. “I’m so sorry to hear he’s dead. How did it happen?”

  “We believe he was murdered,” Cammie responded.

  “Oh my. How awful.”

  “Luce,” Rick replied. “We want to ask you about your troubles with the IRS George was responsible for.”

  “I closed that part of my life ages ago.”

  “We know, but it might help our investigation.”

  There was a long pause, followed by a soft sigh. “You know most of what happened, Rick. George made some mistakes on my business tax return, and I ended up owing the government a lot of money.”

  “About how much are we talking?” Cammie asked.

  “$10,000.”

  “Is it true he asked you not to tell anyone about what happened?”

  “That’s correct. He apologized over and over, telling me how awful he felt. He swore to make it up to me. He was terrified that if word got out about the errors, it would ruin his reputation and his chances of becoming mayor.”

  “When was the last time you saw George?”

  “It was the day of the election. He and Mayor Barnes were doing last minute campaigning and he came into my bakery. He said he was sorry one more time, swore he was going to make it up to me, asked me for his vote and left. I never saw him again.”

  “Is it true you had to declare bankruptcy and close down the bakery?”

  “Is that what people are saying? Oh, boy. I’m afraid they’re wrong, sheriff. I closed the bakery because my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I moved down to Orlando to take care of her. After she passed, I met Emilio, fell in love and decided to make Orlando my home.”

  “Were you able to pay off the IRS lien?”

  “I did. And that’s a strange little story in itself. It was right after I heard through the grapevine that George had left Twin Ponds to move to Bangor. I went to the Emporium to pick up my mail and Lars gave me a package. There was no postage or return address on it. It just had my name handwritten on the front. He told me George had left it for me right after the election with the instructions that he wasn’t to give it to me until George left Twin Ponds. Imagine my surprise when I got home, opened it and found $10,000 in cash.”

  “Cash?”

  “That’s right.”

  “There was no note?”

  “No. Just the cash. If Lars hadn’t told me it was George who’d left it, I never would have known it was from him. I used it to pay off the IRS and I’ve never had any issues with them since.”

  “And you never heard from George again?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “If you hold on, Rick will take a statement from you. In the meantime, if there’s anything else you remember from those days that might help in our investigation, don’t hesitate to call us.”

  As Rick left to take Lucy’s statement, Cammie sat in her office, deep in thought. When he came back almost forty minutes later, she didn’t hear his step.

  “Yo, earth to Cammie,” he said as he waved his hand in front of her face.

  She looked across the desk at him. “Sorry. Just thinking about what Lucy said. Specifically, about the cash George gave her.”

  “What about it?” He asked as he sat down opposite her.

  “Where did George get $10,000 from? According to the bank statements, he and Margo barely had a pot to piss in. We haven’t found any additional bank accounts where George could have been stashing cash away. And we now know he was addicted to online gambling.”

  “Maybe Margo gave him the dough to give to Lucy. She might have feared that if his reputation was ruined, it would reflect on her.”

  “I thought of that and went through the bank statements. But
there are no withdrawals around that time period for $10,000. In fact, there are no withdrawals at all from her bank account. Now we’re faced with two questions. Where did George get that money, and how is Margo paying her bills?”

  “Could be ol’ Deep Pockets Barnes is taking care of all her expenses.” He shook his head. “Man, I’ve gotta find me a sugar mamma like that. As for George, what I can’t figure out is why he would even pay Lucy back. He was leaving town anyway, so why should he care if word got around what happened? And I hate to say this, but Lucy is Hispanic. We know how George felt about minorities.”

  “I’ve been mulling that over.”

  “And?”

  She looked across the desk at him and smiled. “And I’m not quite ready to share my thoughts on it yet.”

  Rick sighed. “You know I hate when you do that.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not doing it on purpose. At least not this time. I’m still kicking it around in my head. Believe me, I’ll be sure to let you know when I get all the pieces to fit.”

  “You know, since it’s plain to see how well Bill has been taking care of Margo over the years, could be he gave his bodacious beauty the cash, who in turn gave it to George, who then gave it to Lucy,” Rick mused. “No matter how you look at it, it would have looked bad if people found out what George had done to Lars and Lucy. With him leaving town, that bad feeling would have fallen on Margo.”

  “Very true. Which is why I’m going to walk across the street right now and talk to Lars.” She got up from her desk. “Bodacious beauty?” she chuckled as she raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s gotta be doing something to keep that man’s wallet working overtime.”

  An image flashed through Cammie’s mind which caused her to grimace. “Eeewwww,” she muttered under her breath as she left the office.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lars Landry’s Grocery Emporium was located across the street from HQ. As usual, Cammie found the large, ginger haired man behind the counter, his eyes glued to his small TV where he watched countless reruns of Law and Order. His devotion to the show made him believe he was a law enforcement expert. To prove his understanding of all things criminal, he was the first and so far the only business owner to install a burglar alarm in his store. Thankfully, he’d finally learned the code, saving the town from having to hear the incessant clanging of the alarm as he fumbled to remember how to turn it off. It also saved Cammie from having to run over there every morning to turn the alarm off for him.