Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)
Page 9
Joe yawned and kicked an empty soda can on the parking lot, his disgust evident.
“Better luck next time, Partner,” he said, “If he’s determined to stalk you, he’ll be back. Wasn’t much we could do, other than shoot him.”
“Trust me Joe, I thought about doing that.”
The rest of the night was uneventful, and Maude finally fell into a fitful sleep where dirty, blue rhinos chased her across an open prairie on a potholed road.
Joe was asleep when his head hit the pillow, and no dreams invaded his rest, a fact that he kept to himself when Maude spoke the next morning of her restless night. For a youngster, Joe Allen had an old time prescience of what made his partner tick. They worked together well.
Jesus Jones was bitten. The fascination he had with the police was outdone by his overwhelming compulsion to protect his new idol, Maude Rogers. He rose early that Thursday morning believing he could get ahead of the driver of the blue Chevy, and parked his small car across the road from his own parking lot. The air was cold in the unheated car but Jesus’ passion for duty kept him warm even as his nose ran in the cold air.
The semi-darkness of early morning wasn’t enough to hide the watcher from Jesus. The blue Chevy had parked three rows back, in the A&P parking lot, trying to stay hidden, but the sharp eyes of the motel man easily found him. Opening the door to his small Neon, Jesus continued in his stealth mission, going from car to car parked against the sidewalk, until he had cleared a city block then using his skill for tracking, the enamored man sneaked up behind the blue Chevy. He removed his cell phone with the eight megapixel camera, a possession that he went into debt to get, and proceeded to snap several pictures of the driver of the car.
The youngish man had a blonde buzzcut and round glasses that sat high on his nose, his shirt was pastel blue with a button down ivy-league collar, and a dark blue windbreaker that sat half on his shoulders. His attention was so focused on watching Maude’s room that Jesus Jones picture-taking didn’t distract him.
“You can go see Miss Maude over there, or I’m pushing the 911 button. Try to get away and they’ll nail you gringo scumbag. Why you watching her?”
“Alright, alright. I’ll go. No police. Who are you?”
“Never mind who I am. But you must be ignorant . That woman is the police.”
“Yeah, I know. Just take me to her,” The young man seemed eager to follow the instructions of his new captor.
Jesus Jones was in the middle of one of his happy dreams-involved in police work and on the right side of the fence. It had not always been so. There were a few times in the past when he had been on the wrong side of the law.
“What’s your name?” Jesus said, poking the young man along on the way to Maude’s room.
“I’m not talking to you. I’ll talk to the officer, but not to you.”
Chapter 8
Maude heard the knock on her door and tried to ignore it, hoping whoever was there would go away. The noise continued, disturbing her sleep until she finally yelled, “Just a minute.”
She grabbed the blanket from the top of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, covering her pajamas then decided it was really unnecessary since she was fully covered and presentable. She opened the door after deciding it was Jesus Jones, and he was just about to get a taste of her wrath at being awakened so early in the morning.
The door opened to two men standing there, one appearing to be a college boy by his mode of dress and short haircut.
“This better be good.” She said grumpily, going to the coffee pot and plugging it into the wall, getting ready for her first cup of the day.
“Who are you?” she asked the young man. “What do you want?”
Jesus Jones answered before the young man could say a word in his defense. “Miss Maude, this is the gringo that was watching you, the one who drives that piece of crap blue Chevy.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, “Good work, Jesus.”
“Sure, I like to help the police, especially you, Miss Maude,” he said adoringly.
Maude looked sharply at the motel owner, wondering how he ever had time to take care of his own business. She knew it was necessary to discourage him, and would, she thought, after the mystery was over with the young man.
“Alright, now that I have my coffee, I want to hear what you hope to see following me?” she asked the young man.
“Well, it’s Jenny. Jenny Marx. I know you’re looking for her, and so am I. She’s my girlfriend back home in Flagstaff, and I came here to find her and take her home to marry me; drove my grandmother’s car. They told me in her dorm that she was missing, and I couldn’t just sit by and wonder what happened to her.”
“Young man,” Maude said, kindly, “Do you have any identification with you. Can you prove that you are looking for Jenny and not trying to screw up my investigation?”
“Yes ma’am. Here’s my I.D., and here’s me and Jenny when we were just kids. I just want to find her.”
“Have a seat, young man.” She looked at his driver license. “Samuel Marshall. That’s you, huh. Well Samuel, I have some bad news for you. Jenny is dead. Murdered, and I’m looking for her killers.”
The young man groaned and doubled over, holding his head, the pain of grief and surprise an overwhelming burden.
“She’s dead. Jenny’s gone? Who would have killed her, officer?”
“I don’t know son. But you have to go back home now, and let me do my job.” Maude was never equipped to handle raw grief.
“I thought she was just out with someone else, and I wanted to find her and tell her that I love her and get her back. Why? Why would someone want to kill her? She never did anything to anybody.”
The young man seemed to go on and on, sobbing and talking. Maude was getting a headache, wanting to go outside to light her first unfiltered for the day, but she was still in her pajamas.
“Okay, I know this is hard on you, but I have work to do, and both of you need to leave. Samuel, go by the Sheriff’s Office and see Deputy Ernest Garrison. Tell him what you know, all the things you can remember that Jenny has told you since she’s been at the university, give him your address and phone number. We’ll call you if we find out anything .Think you could do that?”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll do that.” The young man slowly left the room, his head bowed from grief and sadness.
Finally, she was left alone in the room, disturbed by the early wakening. She wanted to go back to bed but it was too late. The sun was up and the day had begun. Besides, she had already had her first cup of coffee for the day. Maude thought for a while about Jesus Jones, believing that he was going to get in over his head with his amateur sleuth actions. He was fortunate that the young man had been harmless. She had to make sure that the motel owner stayed out of police business in the future.
Thirty minutes later, Maude knocked on Joe’s door with two cups of strong coffee in her hand. The young detective opened the door with sleep in his eyes and took the cup from her, motioning for her to sit while he went in the bathroom. She heard him splashing into the commode and smiled to herself. They were certainly comfortable around each other.
“So, how about some breakfast?” Maude yelled through the closed door. “Meet you at the car in fifteen minutes.” She said, opening the front door, and exiting before he could acknowledge her question. He would be outside in less time than she gave him. That’s how Joe operated. He was dedicated to the job, but he was always hungry.
A half hour later, a waitress brought scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee to the two detectives. The last Maude had eaten was the hamburger on the way to the airport, and that was her one meal for the day. Sometimes it was that way; the job got in the way of personal needs. Usually on a case, it was grab food on the way to something else-it made for terrible digestive problems.
“Joe, help me out,” she told her partner. “This whole murder stinks of something I’m not seeing. It seems a case of brutal killing and a rape, but nothing much
else. No real motive yet, no evidence. Just a couple of footprints in the mud and maybe something the medical examiner will find.”
Joe sat back with a toothpick in his mouth, enjoying the last of his coffee. “Does seem to be a weird one. No one saw anything?”
“No one’s come out with anything yet. Maybe it’s going to take a few days before the locals start talking. There’s an old man out there in a falling down cabin that probably saw something, but he can’t remember.”
“Think we can go over the M.E.’s office and find out anything?” Joe asked, wanting to help.
“Let’s go. We can always plead, ‘Ignorant out-of-town-cop, didn’t know the rules.”
The drive was a short one, and it took them by the hospital.
“I want you to meet Sheriff Jack Fuller, the lawman around here. He has three deputies and a couple of guards. There are two city police officers that work for the mayor, but no police chief. It’s a law abiding place usually. No need for more cops, they tell me; these murders are a real unusual circumstance.”
The hospital was quiet in the early morning hours, most employees getting their days started and the patients were asleep or resting. Room 513 was Jack’s room, and if they had hoped to find him asleep, they were both surprised. The gray in his hair seemed more obvious after the stint in a hospital bed and the lines around his unsmiling mouth were deeper. Jack’s wife Sarah was there, trying to soothe him into accepting the inevitable-that he must remain immobile for two more days.
It seemed longer than a day ago since she had seen the Sheriff, and it took her aback to look at him. Jack’s face was set in pain lines; he didn’t believe in painkillers for himself. Others could take them, sure, but if it was stronger than an aspirin, Jack didn’t want it in his belly or blood.
“Well, Jack, I want you to meet Joe Allen, my partner from Madison. With him here to keep his eye on me, I hope you’ll approve of the job we do for you.”
Jack acknowledged Joe, and looked at his bandaged right shoulder, the eye motion explaining why he couldn’t extend a welcoming hand.
“Glad to meet you Joe, but I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Joe nodded, and waved it off. “Sorry for your trouble Sheriff.”
“Maude, have you seen or heard anything that might give us a clue to why that thing happened out there?”
She could tell that Jack was avoiding mentioning anything about the actual murders because of his wife’s presence. Nodding her understanding, she replied in kind.
“No Sir, I hope to get to the Medical Examiner and ask him about his early findings. You carry any influence with that man?”
“He’s a good man, Maude, but don’t expect him to go out on a limb for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, and now if you’ll pardon me, we’ll take our leave and get on over there, see what we can find out.”
Jack closed his eyes against the knowledge that someone other than himself was running a crime scene investigation in his county. He issued a loud harrumph, as assent that the job must go on.
Later, after leaving the hospital, Joe sighed with relief to be gone from the sterile environment.
“Is he always that cheerful?”
“This is sure hard on him. I think it might be the same with me if someone from out of town took over my murder case.” Maude said, reflecting on the events of the morning.
“Well, let’s get some work done.” Joe was eager to get started, to see for himself what had happened to the victims.
The coroner did the job of medical examiner, true in many small counties. Walter Edmonds office was across from the hospital in an old building that the county had owned for a long time. Dust bunnies were in residence under the desk, and cobwebs hung about the corners of the building. County services were assigned to clean the buildings, but sometimes personal objections got in the way of the cleaner’s job obligations. Truth would have it, they didn’t stay overlong in the coroner’s office at night, because of the nature of work that went on in the cold room one floor below.
Maude had been in police work many years and had seen the anomaly before. The coroner’s office was one of the last places to receive any work from the general services section of the county.
“Mr. Edmonds, Maude Rogers, here on the authority of Sheriff Jack Fuller, laid up in the hospital with a bum shoulder. This is my partner Joe Allen. Wonder if you could give me any information on the murders out there on Edwards Bay?”
The coroner was busy, adding information to a file, but looked up with a slight smile when Maude came in the room.
“I can tell you what I’ve found out, but it we don’t have our lab results back yet on the bodies.”
“I would appreciate what you can tell us,” she said.
“The man died from a gunshot wound to the head, but before he died he took a bad beating to his face. The woman was killed from a wound which punctured her heart. There were four wounds on her chest in a central location, but only one that was lethal. Interesting wounds, made by an instrument I can’t identify.”
“What kind of material?” Joe asked.
“Really can’t say at this time, but the shape and depth of the wounds seem to be consistent with the properties of a long chisel, or some similar instrument thicker than a knife blade. Unusual,” the coroner said as if in afterthought.
“Why is it unusual, Mr. Edmonds?” Maude interjected.
“Well, usually that type of wound would take a supreme amount of force because of its width. Ever looked at a chisel? They’re thick, and blunt on the end, maybe this one could have been sharpened, but if so, the intention was clearly to use it for a weapon. The killer would have struck the victim from above, one after the other to achieve the pattern of the wounds.”
“Have you ever seen those types of wounds before?” Maude asked quietly, hoping against the coroner’s assertion.
“As a matter of fact I have. It was a year or so ago, had a burglary here. Man was killed, had the same kind of wounds. Didn’t think much of it then, just seemed to be unusual. Never found the killer, figured him for someone passing through, looking for money. Funny thing is, the sheriff was troubled by it; couldn’t seem to let it alone, thought it was more than a robbery. You might ask him.”
“He mentioned something about a robbery. A jewelry store as I recall. That right?”
The coroner nodded, gazing off, lost in thought. “Yeah, I believe so.”
“To get back to today, Mr. Edmonds, can you tell us anything else?”
“Well, Ma’am, as I said we don’t have the lab results back, but it does appear the woman might have been sexually assaulted. There was some tearing and bruising around the vaginal area. We did a swab for semen, but we’re waiting for results to come back.”
“Can you tell me about the woman’s hair? She appeared to have been scalped, or at least, partially.”
“That’s my take, too,” Edmonds said. “The layers of skin were peeled back from her head, taking the hair with it. It wouldn’t have killed her, but sure would have messed her up if she had lived. Now, if there is nothing else, I have to get back to work. The official report will be out when we get the results from the lab.”
Chapter 9
Maude was deep in thought, the conversation with the coroner still fresh in her mind, bothering her.
“Joe, what do you think? Any ideas?”
“Not yet, Maude; still too new to it. I would like to see the place where the victims were found, get a feel for what happened.”
“We can go down to Gandy’s and get a boat, as long as you know how to operate the motor. I’m going to sit in the boat and smoke my evening cigarette. But first I have to make a call to Lilly Ann, and tell her we will be there tomorrow, not today as I had planned.”
Joe laughed. It was good to be back with his partner who cut him no breaks at all. He never had to guess what she was thinking or what kind of load he was going to carry; she laid it out for him from the get-go.
“Something must have prevented it there in the privacy of the hotel room; someone might have scared them away before they could complete their murderous task. I hate to think that the victims were meant to suffer the ignominy of being exposed to the elements for some even crueler reason. We need to see Ernest; he went to the resort and searched their room, maybe he found something that explains some of it. We’ll go to the Sheriff’s Office when we get back.”
Gandy’s boat rentals was closed, with a sign that said, be back in a few minutes. Maude took the liberty of looking around while she was waiting, assessing the beach, the lay of the land, and how the young couple must have enjoyed the early morning near the water. It was a beautiful place, she thought, with the sun on the water, reflecting light off the waves. She wondered what had drawn Aaron Dennis to the resort, whether someone had made the reservation for him or had he done it himself. She pulled out her notebook and wrote the questions down to ask later.
“Hello Maude Rogers, it is good to see you again. I see you’ve traded your traveling partner. Sorry about Jack, I heard he was shot.”
Sandy was a talker, for sure, couldn’t get a word in edge-wise when he was going at it. Maude waited for the man to run out of breath before saying hello. She asked him about getting one of the boats out to go back to the Slip; said she had heard the old man call it that, and it seemed to fit.
“No problem, but too bad the county boat was picked up already.” Sandy told her, “I’ll send the bill to the Sheriff’s Office. Choose the one you want.”
“Do you know much about that part of the lake? Would there be any reason a stranger would know about that place; that waterway?”