HOMECOMING: A thrilling crime mystery full of twists (New York Murder Mysteries Book 4)

by Joshua Brown

  “Now, you stay safe out there, Vic. Don’t want anything happening to you on account of wanting to walk the streets. With your ma not being home, well, it’s just not safe right now,” Mister McDonald sighed. “All these changes happening so fast, I guess our little haven won’t be safe long at all. Not with all the unfamiliar faces that are going to be present. Hell, maybe that’s just the old cynic in me.”

  That last comment threw me off. Did he feel the same way as I did? A wanton warrior fighting to save the purity of Priest River? I looked him in the eye, and he gave me a weak smile, and something inside told me yes. I wasn’t alone in this crusade, not that I ever was with the Earth Mother on my side.

  But with higher numbers, this fight might’ve been easier than ever before. I wasn’t on a solo mission; like-minded people too afraid to speak up and act out surrounded me.

  I returned the smile and gave Mister McDonald a pat on the shoulder.

  “I don’t think it’ll be all that bad, not if we have anything to say about it,” I replied.

  I started walking off again, through the gate and into the street. Straight home, as instructed. As I mentioned before, the Earth Mother communicates through the wind. Perhaps, Mister McDonald was her source for the afternoon, giving me hope for the future of this battle.

  I wasn’t alone, and there is always strength in numbers.

  On my walk back home, I stopped at Lee-Anne’s place for dinner, as discussed the night before. When we finished eating, snuggling on the sofa, I made arrangements with her to come over the next evening.

  I had no plans of screwing her that night. There was too little time to indulge in personal entertainment.

  She agreed, and I knew the next phase of my plan was ready to be set in motion.

  Chapter 9

  Jack

  I awoke the following morning with the birds. Their song, upbeat and cheery, felt like a sinister mocking of my situation. They reminded me where I was, that I wasn’t lucky enough to fly away from my woes.

  Their subtle teasing didn’t go unnoticed. With a hangover I hadn’t felt in months, I left the bed, completed my morning ablutions, and started out for the day. The sun shone brightly over the town. With rain taking over the night before, we were in for one hot, humid day. What better time to get stuck in a sheriff’s station, sweating my ass off, and trying to start an active case?

  By the time I left the door, I’d smoked two cigarettes, finishing a third. I continued hearing the bird’s song. When I got to my car, I was laughing at the thought of them making fun at my expense. It was a silly thing to think and even sillier to believe. But before the hangover cleared with a shower, logical thought wasn’t really in the wheelhouse.

  I stopped for breakfast at a small diner called Hopewell’s. I entered, greeted by smiling, jolly youth. The first generation that didn’t know my face, and I was thankful for the fact.

  It was a quaint little place. The bar counter had a few chairs behind it, overlooking a coffee station where an older woman stood. There weren’t many tables on the floor, mostly focusing on the booths looking out at Priest River. They decorated the seats in red, white, and blue—all American.

  Apart from me, two servers, the old woman behind the counter and a chef in the back; visible only through the warming rack, Hopewell’s was empty. I both enjoyed and disliked being alone.

  What did it say about a place if only locals came here, and none were around?

  “Morning, sir. Table for one?” a young woman asked. Her name tag read Lee-Anne. I didn’t look long, considering its placement.

  Though I understood the ease of a name tag and the location above the heart, I always found it a funny thing. This Lee-Anne, young enough to be my daughter, wearing a shirt that showed her cleavage, might think I was looking at something other than her name if I lingered.

  Such a silly thing, and yet it left me red-faced and embarrassed for no reason at all.

  “Yes, thanks,” I replied. She grabbed a menu and led me to a table.

  “You new in town?” she asked, setting my menu down. “Don’t see many fresh faces here in Hopewell’s.”

  I understood she was just trying to make conversation, but her question still left me uneasy. I was clearly new in town if she didn’t recognize me, so why even ask?

  “Yup, here on business relating to the awful business that happened at the Trinity Church yesterday,” I replied, taking a seat. It was plush and soft—more comfortable than it should’ve been.

  “It’s all over the news this morning. The first murder in sixty years. What a strange time we live in,” she said. “If you’re investigating this thing, I’d start with that Jim Heath. He’s no good.”

  It did not surprise me to hear Jim Heath’s name rock up again. It seemed everyone had a vendetta against the guy. I still didn’t place him as the killer, reasoning that he’d be a fool to murder so soon after arriving in town.

  And it wasn’t like Priest River got much traffic at all. It was a small town in between a few other cities, and cars moved through often. Of course, that would make things much worse, but I wasn’t going to dwell on what might be.

  Fact’s first, speculation later.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard a couple of people say the same. After breakfast, I’m heading to the sheriff’s station. Got to touch base before I make any moves,” I said. Not wanting to carry on the conversation much longer, I shifted to ordering, so I could head out. The sooner I broke this thing wide open, the sooner I could get back home. “Just looking for coffee, bacon, eggs, two sausages, and toast.”

  “Got it, coffee and a farmer’s breakfast,” Lee-Anne repeated my order.

  I scrolled through news articles on my phone while I waited. Out of the seven local articles on display, three somehow related to Lynne Sawyer’s murder. After reading headlines and moving on, I checked my messages. Lauren sent one through of her and Skylar snuggling up on her bed. Skylar was tucked under her arm, eyes ahead as if watching the tv.

  The message tagged on read, “missing you.”

  I knew she meant it from Skylar’s point of view, but it was still good to see my baby.

  Lee-Anne brought both my breakfast and coffee at the same time. She set them down on the counter.

  “You want anything else with that?”

  “Depends. You have any homemade relish?”

  “Sure do, I’ll get it right away.” Lee-Anne scurried off again, bringing a small bowl full.

  It wasn’t the best meal I ever had, and the coffee was cold as soon as it hit my table. But if I was going to take on this day, I needed sustenance. After seeing Lynne Sawyer, there wasn’t much appetite left in me the day before. An empty stomach and half a bottle of single malt don’t go well together.

  I had another cup of coffee with a cigarette after breakfast, finally awake enough to get up and start my day. I wasn’t mentally in it yet. The realization that I’d accepted my fate only dawned later, at the sheriff’s station.

  After my cigarette and coffee, I paid up. While Lee-Anne finished the transaction, she spoke again. On a topic, I had no business answering to her.

  “You’re gonna catch the bugger who did this, right?” There was genuine concern painted across her face.

  “Sure as hell going to try my best,” I said, trying to ease her mind.

  I suppose there wasn’t much way of knowing how vastly this murder impacted a small settlement like Priest River. New York was full of crime; a regular occurrence so outplayed most stories fell by the wayside. Life was different out here, in the middle of nowhere.

  Normal people weren’t subjected to cruelty or random gunshots fired in the night. They were a tight-knit community of friends and family; united.

  It’s all about perspective. It’s easy to bash a place, especially when a man’s got ill feelings towards it. But seeing a woman afraid, no doubt for her own life considering what happened, really made me think about things differently.

  And that’s why I came b
ack, too. Lauren was right, this would’ve eaten me up. I’d no doubt have heard something about it through the grapevine, only to realize that I might’ve been able to make a change but didn’t. My past didn’t have to impact the future of Priest River, and I would not let it.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  ~

  Priest River Sheriff’s Department was exactly what I thought it would be. It was a small office beside the City Hall. An all-brown building with two mirrored windows and a mirrored glass door in front.

  The inside wasn’t much better. A small space for people to come in and the sheriff’s desk behind. The only furnishings were six red plastic chairs, three on either side of the wall, and two coffee tables. Atop the tables, a stack of out-of-date magazines was the only reading material.

  Christ, my office in New York, meant for one visitor at a time, was bigger than the whole town’s police station.

  Rodney Stern sat at his desk, flipping through a yellow paper notepad. Opposite him, Freddy Cochran drank a cup of coffee from a sickly green cup. Freddy wore a similar get-up to the day before, only the tattered, near see-through shirt was replaced by a black button-up.

  A fan blew hot wind from one corner of the room to the other. A sign hung from the air conditioner saying: Out of Order. The note was written in red sharpie, on the same yellow pages that Rodney had in front of him.

  “Jack? What are you doing here?” Rodney asked, squinting at me. He had buggy eyes, the left was squint. He was losing his hair in the typical male pattern baldness way. I understood why he went in public with the Stetson and Faux-Aviators now.

  “Thought you boys might need a hand on this thing. Didn’t sit right with me ducking out of town when a woman was killed,” I said. It was more or less honest.

  “It’s been one hell of a morning, I tell you,” Rodney got up from his chair, walked around the desk to greet me.

  “Any word on Lynne Sawyer?” I asked.

  “Not yet. As you can see, we’re not really well equipped for something like this,” Rodney sighed. “We sent the body up to Newport to get checked out. Should hear from them soon, though.”

  Freddy got up, greeted with a shake as well, and we all took a seat in the main area of six chairs. Freddy and I took a seat together, with Rodney opposite us.

  “How are you feeling today, Freddy? You didn’t look too well yesterday,” I slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. Not a second,” Freddy replied.

  “Then why are you here?” I questioned. It was more out of curiosity than care. After all, Freddy was retired, old, and wouldn’t benefit a single thing in the case. Though Rodney needed the help, and if I wasn’t here to help, there’d be no one trying to sort this out, really.

  “You know as well as I do why I’m here,” Freddy sneered, turned to Rodney, then back to me. I’m not even sure Rodney understood Freddy was calling him useless or not.

  “Well, best get on with it then,” I got the ball rolling. No point sitting in a hot office, too small for the three of us. “Do we have any idea who would’ve done something like this? Or what reasoning some might have for killing Lynne Sawyer?”

  “Not a clue,” Rodney shrugged. He pulled a box of smokes, and so did I. He lit us up. “But all eyes are falling on Jim Heath. It’s as good a jumping-off point as any, right?”

  Rodney said “right,” like he was asking for my approval of the plan. Paying Jim Heath a visit was always on the top of my list of things to do, so I nodded.

  “Look here, Rodney, how about you let Jack take the lead on this one? I’m sure he doesn’t want to take a backseat on the investigation, considering his being here,” Freddy looked me in the eye. A sigh escaped his thin lips before continuing. “And I’m sure the Bonner County sheriff’s department has some funds lying around to float his bill. Lord knows we’ve not needed to throw the cash around all that much.”

  “Thank you kindly,” it was damn good to hear I’d at least be paid for my time here. Though, I’d probably knock a few things off the bill for my stay in Priest River. “But I don’t think it right that I lead the case. Maybe I can stand by as an acting consultant, monitor the flow, and make sure things go smooth.”

  Freddy leaned in closer, whispering in my ear so Rodney wouldn’t hear us. “That boy’s got a heart of gold, but he doesn’t have the brain or willpower to get through this thing. Heard him wailing all night about Lynne Sawyer’s death. Might look sharp as a pitchfork, but he’s dull as a wooden club.”

  While Freddy spoke, Rodney’s eyes drifted between us nervously. This wasn’t news to me, but I didn’t want to emasculate the sheriff of Priest River, either. Lynne Sawyer’s death was an opportunity for him to prove himself to the people. If he backed down and showed weakness to a P.I that rolled into town two days ago, that’d leave a sour taste in the citizen’s mouths.

  Police work was a tactical game of chess, be it chasing a criminal or the internal politics. Freddy should’ve understood that, but since there wasn’t much crime to begin with, how could he? Sixty years with nothing serious happening can make a town go soft. It’s easy to turn a haphazard eye to what’s happening in the wide-open world when you’re living in paradise.

  “I’m happy to help however I’m needed. The best thing to do is just to start,” I got up from the chair, killing the rest of my cigarette in a metal ashtray beside a magazine. It was rusted and dirty, with sticks littering it. “Everyone’s pinning Jim Heath for this, so he’s the man we should go see for ourselves.”

  “Alright, let me grab his address for you,” Rodney jumped up and scurried over to his desk.

  “You’re not joining?” I crooked a brow.

  “I can’t rightly leave my post, detective. What if someone comes in with another complaint or murder story? It might be best if you go alone,” Rodney said.

  Freddy let out a long, drawn-out groan. He got up from his chair, patted his shirt down, and drew a six-shot .44 Magnum.

  “Jesus, old man. You’ll take your arm off shooting that monster,” I said, laughing.

  Freddy checked it was loaded, pulled the hammer back, doing a few other checks to ensure it was ready had it come down to it.

  “Maybe, but I’ll take the bastard I fire at with me,” Freddy said. “If that boy’s too scared to go with you, I’ll join. I ain’t gonna be the reason you get shot on account of our dipshit sheriff being too scared to have your back.”

  “Now, come on, Freddy, that’s not fair,” Rodney said. “I’ll go with….”

  “Too late, Rodney. You had your chance and blew it. Give us Jim’s address and be on with your day.”

  I had to laugh. What else could I do? The tough guy attitude Rodney put on the day before, just to be ripped a new one the next? That’s funny stuff. I supposed his glasses hid whatever emotion his eyes held, but now those two beads gave everything away.

  Rodney gave me a sheet of paper with the street and number. I already knew he was on Rivenes after Freddy mentioned it the day before. And the thought of returning there after seeing my parents’ house the day before was more upsetting than it should’ve been. But I buried it down deep, there wasn’t much point in worrying now.

  This was a murder investigation, not a deep dive into the depressing history of Jack Mercer.

  Freddy and I got in my car and took the short drive up to Rivenes avenue.

  Chapter 10

  Jack

  It was just my luck that Ruby was sitting outside in the sun when I pulled up to Jim Heath’s home. She was alone, thankfully, but it still left me uneasy. Jim was across the street and only a single house over. With the unmistakable car I was driving, Ruby was on her feet and walking over by the time I pulled into Jim’s drive.

  I got out, waved a hand to stop her from coming closer. Ruby did as instructed, and the brimming smile on her face turned to a sour sneer, almost worried. She knew what we were doing there. Freddy got out and waved at Ruby. She returned it
, heading back to her towel.

  I was so focused on Ruby that I didn’t even get a good look at Jim’s house on pulling up. Much like my parents’ house, it was small in size, but two floors. The outside was painted a yellowy-cream color.

  “We know you did it” was spray-painted in black on the wall. The single double door of the garage had a graffiti painting of a stickman hanging from a noose. All the same can of paint.

  “You ought to go visit your old man, Jack,” Freddy said as we walked to the door.

  “Don’t see a point in doing that,” I said. “I plan on cracking this thing before he even knows I’m in town.”

  Freddy sighed, not adding anything more.

  “Have you ever done an investigation like this before?” I had to ask. Though old, if the last murder happened six decades ago, Freddy would’ve been too young to aid in it. He damn sure wouldn’t have had any control over what happened during it, either.

  “No, nothing quite like this,” Freddy admitted. “Worst thing I ever saw was a jewelry store heist gone wrong. A couple of the deputies shot down the robbers, got one in the gut. It was a bloody mess, that’s for sure, but no one died anyway.”

  “You’re familiar with the procedure, though, right? The man’s being threatened, which means he’s going to be on edge. We don’t want to scare him into anything hasty. He might say something he doesn’t mean if we apply too much pressure. In New York, I saw a man admit to murder because of the threats he got, only to be released five years later when it happened again. Fear makes foolish decisions seem like the only option out,” if Freddy was going to be my partner in this, I needed to know he wouldn’t do anything foolish.

  The thought tickled me. It took Aaron years of proving himself behind the desk to join me in the field, and this old man, out of commission and retired, managed it in a day. I suppose I was just happy to have someone at my side in case anything happened.