by Kira Reese
“She did call me a couple of hours ago,” said Polly. “Somehow she knows what happened to Kevin. She told me she wanted to talk on the phone, since she no longer trusted me.” Polly looked squarely into my eyes. “That’s not true, but I can’t blame her for thinking we are siding with her father in what he has done.”
I decided it hadn’t dawned on either of them just how deep their part was in all of this. I heard sirens in the distance, and a few minutes later Natalie walked in with Detective Jones. I moved over and made a space for him at the table. By the time it was all said and done, a backup patrol car arrived with officers O’Neil and Whitten in it. They handcuffed both Pearsons and led them to the car.
“Hi, Natalie,” called a voice from behind the fence. When Natalie turned around the voice continued. “It’s me, Crystal, over here.” Natalie approached the fence. “I guess you finally got them,” said Crystal. “Did they tell you much or are they going to plead the fifth?”
Natalie laughed. “I don’t know how it will all go down,” she said. “I’ll see you around, Crystal.” The bleached blonde retreated to her house with a smile on her face.
***
Dr. Alfred Stenter knew it was a matter of time before the law caught up with him. He had to find his daughter first and convince her that the death of Kevin Blakemore was nothing more than an accident and how sorry he was. Of course, sorry wasn’t in his vocabulary. He did what he had to do. It was easy to pretend he was finally approving of the young man, and he slipped the poison into his coke when he wasn’t looking.
It all happened before he had thought things out completely, but he had recalled the grove of trees out in the country owned by the Pearsons. When that snooping taxi driver came back out to the country, he became a huge liability. The professor spoke kindly to him and convinced him that he was interested in buying the grove and just out looking to see what his money would get him. It was a ruse on his part, but he had returned to make sure the grave was deep enough and covered over so as to look like nothing had been disturbed.
The professor wasn’t accustomed to the country and didn’t want to stay out there any longer than necessary. He spoke with the Pearsons who assured him they had seen the grave and that it looked hidden well enough. They didn’t tell them who helped move the body to the hole. Once the taxi let them out of the vehicle, he came around from the other side of the trees and took them back to town. It made him nervous to think they may not have taken enough caution in the endeavor. Bill Pearson had hired someone to dig the grave the day before the murder. They told their helper they were going to bury some worn tools there so as to not clutter the countryside with scattered junk. The man believed them and happily accepted payment for his work. It wasn’t that hard to break the earth up since it had rained the night before. The blowing rain made its way through the trees and into the grove.
As for Tommy Burford, he had no idea his coworker would be resting in that deep hole by that night. Tommy did odd jobs more than once for the Pearsons, and he liked them. His humble home where he lived with his older sister and her husband was two doors from the Pearsons’ bungalow.
Late that night, after Kevin Blakemore’s body had been buried, the professor returned and dug it up again. They had wrapped the young man in a thick blanket, and with much effort, the professor finally lifted him out and placed him in the trunk of his sedan.
He went back and filled in the empty space with small branches and as much dirt on the edges as he could. He used a flashlight and scanned his work. He then shed the worn sweatshirt and boots he wore and threw them in back of his car. The next day when he returned to pick up a bandana he left, he saw the taxi driver pull up. Before his deed, Alfred had purchased the old sweatshirt and the bandana used to wipe his hands from a thrift shop in a nearby town. At the last minute, when he saw Robert Douglas, he threw the bandana aside where it landed a few feet from the gravesite. He startled Robert when he emerged from the grove and explained he was looking at the property to buy it.
He followed the taxi driver into town and learned where he lived. It was then he came up with a way to befriend the man since Alfred wasn’t completely convinced that Robert fell for his explanation of why he had been out at the grove.
***
“I think I can guess what he did next,” said Natalie. We were sitting in Ben’s office at the precinct. He had managed to get a full confession from the Pearsons, and his cops were bringing Professor Stenter in as we spoke.
Ben told Natalie to go on. “I think he lured Robert by calling a taxi early that morning. I also believe he specifically asked for Robert Douglas to drive him. When Robert picked him up he told the professor he would take him to his destination and then was ready for his break. Alfred became friendlier and asked if he could sit in front with him and they would take a break together.”
I added a comment. “Robert clocked out at that point, and no one at City Cab Company knew he had a passenger with him. That is, if Natalie is correct in her assumptions.”
Ben leaned back and laughed. “I have no idea at this point. We’ll know more if and when the professor confesses his.”
We were interrupted by Officer O’Neil. “Sir, we don’t know where Alfred Stenter is. We can’t find his daughter, either.”
Ben jumped up just as Natalie and I did. “Let’s go to the country,” I told her.
“What makes you think they are out in the country?” asked Ben.
I didn’t answer except to tell him to meet us at Mac Johnson’s house. Ben knew where the scruffy man lived, and I was glad I didn’t have to take any more time to explain its location. The patrol car eventually caught up with me and we all swerved into Mac’s driveway at the same time. As soon as I got out of my car, I heard shouting. It was Mac’s voice that was the loudest.
“She came out here on her own,” he was saying. “I can’t stop something like that.”
Alfred Stenter’s voice stopped in mid-sentence and he rushed to the broken screen on the window. I heard Katie crying. She was unaware that help had arrived. That part I knew when she yelled to both men.
“I can’t trust either one of you,” she yelled. “I can’t believe you had a part in this whole thing, Mac. So you were the one who snitched to my father about Kevin and me out here. Did you bury the only person who meant anything to me? Did you?”
She stopped when she heard loud footsteps on the boarded porch floor. Her father stepped in front of her and motioned for Mac to stand behind his daughter so she couldn’t run out. I glanced through the torn screen and saw a gun in the hand of the professor. It was pointed at his daughter. I motioned for Officer O’Neil to take a look. He sneaked to the back of the house and edged inside.
The detective and Officer Whitten knocked on the door and told everyone to come out. “You are surrounded, Dr. Stenter. There is no way out for you. Come out with your hands up. You, too, Mac Johnson.”
Sirens approached from the nearby road, and in seconds two more cop cars and the sheriff’s car zoomed in. By now the house was surrounded, leaving the professor with few choices. He sent his daughter out first, followed by Mac Johnson. Mac was followed by Dr. Stenter and both had their hands up over their heads. They were followed by Officer O’Neil, who was still pointing his gun. Katie ran to Natalie, who hugged her tightly and told her everything was over. She watched as the powerful man who was her father and the lowly farmhand were handcuffed and put into separate police cars. Her father did not allow his eyes to meet those of his daughter.
In the late afternoon, Detective Ben Jones called our office. He asked to speak with Natalie. I watched her beam as she listened. She flipped the speaker on.
“You were right, Natalie. The professor did convince the taxi driver to take his break with him. He had the poison ready when he called for the taxi and asked specifically for Robert to be his driver. When Robert told him he liked the coffee from Jack in the Box, Alfred agreed it was fine with him.” He paused long enough for Natalie to tha
nk him for his compliment. “There’s more,” said Ben. “They got the coffee and parked in the parking lot to drink it. Alfred asked Robert if he minded getting French fries for him. When he left to do so, it was then the professor doused the taxi driver’s coffee with a slow-acting poison. He told Robert to take him to the nearby post office and that he would walk to this office from there. Alfred had no idea Robert planned to come to Candy’s office to get help regarding his observations. He figured Robert would go back on the clock and continue his workday, if he lived long enough.”
“What about Tommy Burford? What made Alfred go against him?” I asked.
“Alfred wasn’t sure if Tommy had seen him in the taxi well enough to point him out later if it came to that. He knew Tommy was hired by the Pearsons to dig the hole. The next day he drove through the drive-thru. Tommy was at the window again. Alfred noticed he stared at his back seat and he realized he had left stuff from the grove there. He didn’t want to take any chances with Tommy saying anything. I’m sure he would have eventually become another victim of his.”
“One more thing,” said Natalie. “Don’t tell me Kevin Blakemore’s body is still in the trunk of the Buick LaCrosse.”
His familiar chuckle came over the line. “Mac took care of burning the remains in his back yard. Then he gathered the ashes and whatever else was left of Kevin and dumped them into a large burlap sack. Alfred paid him handsomely to take care of the matter. He just didn’t count on his daughter, Katie, discovering what was going on when she overheard Alfred’s phone call to Mac. Katie put two and two together, and that is when she decided to tell you both the story. And you know the rest of it by now. It’s all hard to believe how someone with Alfred’s status would take chances like that just to keep his daughter from liking a boy he didn’t approve of.”
A short silence filled the air. “Good work, Natalie. You’ll soon be as good as your boss,” said Ben. “There’s someone who wants to talk with you.”
Michael O’Neil stated that he just wanted to tell her what a good job she had done, as well.
I knew Ben was grinning like I was.
~ END ~
DEAD BODIES IN THE MORTUARY
Chapter 1
Invitation to the Lake House
I finished one big case and the other intricate one I shared with my associate, Natalie Carpenter. Together, we dove into seedy areas of New York and back up to the exclusive offices of some of the most prestigious people I had ever met. And so, after the grueling first few days of this week, something that gave me great pleasure happened. That night, my best friend from childhood, Sharon Mayes, called me.
“Come on up to Sand Ridge this weekend,” she said. “I’m having a small dinner party and want you and Nick here.”
“You have no idea how good it is to hear from you,” I said. “It’s been a long week already. I’ll talk to Nick about it when he gets home and call you back. I will be there for sure.”
Sharon was the executive director of a nonprofit entrepreneurial organization. Though Nick liked my friend, Sharon did like to talk about her job. That was something that Nick thought was too much. More than once after seeing her, he commented on how boring her conversations were. I found them very interesting but had to agree with my live-in boyfriend of several years that she monopolized the conversations.
When we ended our call, I thought of the cases on my desk at work. Being a private investigator began with the hope that my business would grow, and it had—much sooner than I expected. Every time I drove in front of my office and looked at the shingle hanging outside, my heart leapt with pride. Candace McCauley, Private Investigator never grew old for me.
“I would like to go with you,” said Nick, “but I have my realtors meetings this weekend, if you remember.”
His blue eyes twinkled with relief that he had an excuse. I had forgotten about his long weekend away. Nick Adams held the illustrious title of top realtor in his company and had maintained it for three years.
“I did forget about that,” I said. “You have to admit you prefer that to a social gathering, though, don’t you?” He laughed and agreed with me. “It’s okay. I plan to go up. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sharon. It’s too bad you will miss boating on the lake.”
Sharon had inherited a lake house from her parents. As children we would climb down the steep wooden steps to the lake for a swim. I always held her hand because, to this day, she remained afraid of heights. Now that she owned the property, she had rebuilt the steps to jag up to the house with landings every five or six steps. She told me it was so much easier for her without worrying about looking straight down from the deck to the sloping ground. I looked forward to spending the whole weekend with her. It was late summer and there wouldn’t be many days left for swimming and boating.
The next day, Sharon called me back. “Candy, I’m canceling the dinner party. Several have other plans, and frankly, my job is too busy right now to get it together like I’d like to. I want you to come on up anyway if you still want. I would love to see you and we could call it our girls’ weekend together.”
“Nick couldn’t have come, either,” I said. I told Sharon of his previous plans for the meetings out of town. “Let’s do that. We’ll have time together, just the two of us.”
It was agreed. Sharon told me she would stock up on wine and snacks. I stopped at a sprawling liquor and spirits shop on my way out and picked up a couple of bottles of chardonnay for backup. When I drove up the slightly winding road to the houses that overlooked the water, I spotted the familiar structure belonging to Sharon. The white clapboard appeared as inviting as ever. When I got out of my car the aroma of barbequed something filled my nostrils.
Sharon swung open the door and gave me a bear hug. “It is so good to see you, Candy. I hope you still like your steaks medium rare. I just put them on the grill.”
Sharon was dressed in shorts and a checkered cotton shirt. Slim legs were accentuated with a summer tan. My attire was similar, but I would never be someone successful in getting a tan. No matter how much time I may spend in the sun, my skin tone stubbornly stuck with smooth creamy skin that, in every season, looked as if I tried to get the tan but just didn’t get past faded ecru. Sharon poured two glasses of wine and we toasted each other.
“What’s new up here in Sand Ridge?” I asked.
“I’ve been going through my mother’s things finally,” she said. “It has taken several weeks for me to want to do that.”
I expressed my sympathy again at the loss of her mother, who died only a year after her father. Sharon was an only child, and while her parents were alive, she lived in New York City. Since moving to the lake house, she commuted back and forth.
“She had more jewelry than I recalled,” said Sharon. “There was one piece she wanted to be buried with. She asked me to make sure of it at the time my father passed away.”
Sharon continued to describe the brooch that her father bought her mother for their first wedding anniversary years ago. She told me he purchased it in an antique shop in the city and that her mother had told him he paid too much for it.
“They started married life financially secure, but it was early in the marriage, and my mother was a spendthrift then.”
We both recalled how that changed over the years. It was good to bring back memories. We stayed up until neither of us could keep our eyes open. Sharon stood up while I began gathering remnants of our dinner and drinks.
“Leave all of that until tomorrow,” she said. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep and then we can hit the shops around here. I know how much you like antiquing and garage sales. This is the last weekend of the summer, and there are plenty of them going on.”
She hit it right on the head with my love for old things and top bargains. In that way, Sharon and I had a common bond. I drifted off to sleep and soon dreamt of precious stones and other discoveries at garage sale after garage sale.
The next morning, we sipped black coffee and
then cleaned up from the night before. After a light breakfast, we started for the door when a loud knock sounded. Before Sharon had time to get to the door, the knocking became insistent. Sharon uttered something I could only imagine she said and opened the door.
“Sharon, have you heard the news?” asked her neighbor. Sharon shook her head. “John Goff was murdered last night. He was stabbed to death and left in a ravine off River Bend Road.” I edged around from the living room and listened to the conversation. After Sharon closed the door, she turned to me.
“John Goff was the funeral director for Goff and Sons Mortuary,” she said. Her face scrunched. “That was a terrible way to go.” Her pause drew me like a magnet.
“You don’t seem all that upset. How well did you know him?” I said.
“Everyone knew him well enough. Frankly, he wasn’t liked much around town.”
“Did he have enough enemies for someone to want him dead?” I asked.
Sharon chuckled. “He had enemies and probably some wanted him dead, but I can’t think of anyone offhand who would actually stab him to death.”
She dropped the subject, and since she was not feeling any personal loss over the matter, we left for our shopping spree. Sharon was right about the last garage sales of summer. There were plenty of them set up along the streets and we stopped at most of them. Nothing caught our eye, so she led me to the row of several antique shops on the main street. Sharon pointed to one in particular.
“This is one my mother loved to shop at. Beverly has a section of antique jewelry. Let’s take a look.”
I followed her inside the store. Sharon introduced me to Beverly. While they headed for the gems, I meandered around the shop. I eyed several paintings and was about to decide between one of two when Sharon’s voice rose. I hurried to see what she had found. My gaze landed on the antique brooch her slim finger pointed to. Beverly went behind the case and unlocked it. She laid the piece on top of the glass.