Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)

by Linda L. Dunlap

  “I can’t think of any reason, it’s mostly an oyster harvester’s hidey hole; goes nowhere, just that little dead end pool down there. Fellow would have to know this country to find it on purpose.”

  “Or watch someone else find it.” She said, thoughtfully.

  Joe sang out, “Let’s go Maude, time’s wasting. Light up that cigarette. Your gondolier awaits.”

  Maude laughed then gave directions as Joe motored the little boat skillfully across the lake, reminding him to watch out for large rocks that made up part of the north shore. They found the narrow Slip and entered it easily, with Maude admiring Joe’s expertise with the craft. True to her word, she brought out her afternoon cigarette and lit it with the butane lighter from deep in her pocket. Had it not been for a murder investigation, the trip would have been a pleasurable journey.

  “Slow down, Joe, it’s right around here. See that little scrawny tree up there. That’s where they were. You have to tie off the rope to some grass or weeds on the bank.”

  The grass was dry, an indication of the time of day to a person who studied those sorts of things. Maude didn’t study them, but she remembered from her other trip to the murder site. She knew that they had a couple of hours at best before they had to leave the area or prepare to get wet. Stepping up out of the boat was hard on her arthritic knees, but at least since the cortisone shot there was less pain with activity.

  The huisache tree was still in last bloom, its skinny limbs providing almost no shade at all. Joe waited for Maude’s instruction before looking the place over.

  “The tide has been in and out of here a couple of times. You won’t find anything, but I’ll show you where the bodies were laying. That dark spot on the tree was where her hair was hanging. The mangy polecat that had his fun with her and then killed her showed her no respect at all. Shameful behavior from a man. He doesn’t deserve the cost of my bullets.”

  “He would deserve mine.” Joe said. “Any footprints found?”

  “One set, large boots, the kind men in construction wear, nothing unusual about them. They’re sold in dozens of stores in Texas. One thing though, the size of the boot; it must have been at least a fourteen. Deep ruts that lasted through tide water. So, a big man raped and killed the girl.”

  “The bullets in Aaron were a .45 caliber. Big gun. Would have taken only one to kill him, but the assassin used two for good measure, or just because he liked it.”

  “Maude,” Joe said, “This was a hit. Right? You don’t think it was personal?”

  “Don’t think so, but I could be wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “What about the girl’s hair, wasn’t that personal?” Joe was thinking, trying to put it together. “Seems as though he was humiliating the girl.”

  “Well, Joe, I’ve seen brutality from people given the chance to be kind, and I’ve seen kindness from some of the worst people I’ve dealt with. My guess is the hit was business, but the details were left to the killer’s discretion. We’re dealing with a really bad group. Besides the big boot print, there was a smaller one, either a female or a very small man. The print was on the outside of the killing sight, so an organizer, or someone who went along for fun.”

  “A woman, you think?”

  “Why not? Women can be just as vicious as men, sometimes worse. Seen enough? Let’s get back to Gandy’s. We’re not getting very far on this case.”

  “What about that old man that lives out here?” Joe asked, maneuvering himself into the boat seat next to the motor. “Think he saw anything?”

  “Not really. Even if he did, he can’t remember.”

  The Slip was starting to rise, only a small amount, but an indication that the tide was coming in and another day was almost gone. Maude was frustrated. Too much time had been spent on people that had nothing to do with the murder.

  “Joe, I want to go to the university and ask some questions. Whatever happened to these people probably started there. We can stay with my niece. I’ll call when we get back to shore and I get a signal on my phone.

  Gandy’s was busy, fishermen showing up for hamburgers and the fixings. Maude nudged Joe, “Hungry?”

  “I could eat,” the young detective said with a grin.

  The inside of the small store was packed with people, the odors coming off the fishermen and oystermen in great waves. Maude stepped back outside, willing to wait for the crowd to ease up.

  A man with a bent brim cap, stating “Fishermen do it in the water”, sat alone at one of the three picnic tables near the store. He nodded at Maude and tipped his cap to her in an old time greeting. “Howdy ma’am. Are you that woman working with Sheriff Jack?”

  “Yes, Maude Rogers, Homicide Detective. What can I do for you?” she asked, extending her hand.

  “Well, I heard the sheriff was down here asking questions about them two killed out there on the Slip. A sad thing, them being so young and all?” The man said, returning Maude’s grasp.

  “Who are you, sir, and how do you know about those people.” Maude sat down at the table across from the cap-wearer.

  “Name’s Jessie James,” the man said, with a little embarrassment, “I know, my mama named all her kids like that. Brother is Frank, sister is Etta. Mama could get rowdy with enough Jack Daniels.” The man seemed proud of his mama and her foolishness, a fact that Maude thought was a fine thing.

  “Okay, Jessie, tell me what you know about this murder.”

  “Well, nothing ma’am, about the murder, that is. But I saw them two out on the lake before they was killed. I was fishing, something I do from time to time with my rod and reel, though most of the time I use trot lines in the river. That day was supposed to be good weather, so I took my equipment and went out on the lake that morning about ten, ten-thirty. I saw that boat of Gandy’s when those two first came out. Nice looking folks; seemed happy. At least she did.”

  “She seemed happy, how did he seem?”

  “Looked to me like he was humoring her, but not particularly liking what he was doing. You know how you see folks, all laughing and smiling when someone’s watching, then their faces change when the other folks look off. That’s how he was. Seemed like he wanted her to be happy, but he was worried about something.”

  “My boat was anchored down, so they got ready to move on down the lake, over toward the north shore, and I wondered what he had in mind, but it was about that time I got a big bite on my hook. Fishing with cut bait, you get some good size fish off the bottom,” James quickly explained to the law woman.

  “So you didn’t see them anymore?” Maude asked.

  “Matter of fact, I did. They turned the boat around, at least the fella did, the woman she just laid in the boat with her feet out in the water.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Well, he caught the wind at his back, and picked up some speed with them paddles, and headed toward the shoreline, back west. He found the Slip, most people don’t, because it kind of hides behind a curve in the beach. Last I saw him he was pulling the rope on that motor and disappeared around the curve.”

  “Did you see anyone else out there about that time?”

  “No, ma’am. I pulled in my big fish, an eight pound channel cat, and figured that was supper, so I went back to my truck. I park down at Jackson where there’s a free boat dock.”

  “Did you see anyone down there when you got back?”

  “Matter of fact I did. A big SUV, one of them crossovers was parked, had some folks in it. Had that tinted glass. Couldn’t tell who was in it. I was ready to go so I didn’t pay much attention to it.”

  “Jessie, did you notice anything different about it. Anything that might help identify it later?’

  “No Ma’am, sure didn’t, except, a tiny little thing. When I was getting my boat out, winching it out on the trailer, I was looking at the back of the SUV. Noticed a sticker on the window. Little round one, a kind of curled up snake. Funny part of it was the snake was red. That’s all. Sorry I can’t be
more help. Been waiting for Sheriff Jack to show up so I could tell him what I saw.”

  “Jessie, you gave us some important details. Don’t know if it will be what we need to catch those murderers, but I believe it will be very helpful.”

  Maude shook his hand, thanked him again, and went inside the store, noting that the fishy smell was just as bad, even with most of the people gone. Joe had been standing inside after placing the order for both of them, but he hadn’t missed Maude’s exchange with the skinny man in the baseball cap.

  “Learn anything?” he asked, handing her a burger and fries with lots of ketchup.

  “Let’s eat outside and I’ll tell you what I found out.”

  The food was hot and good, just as before, with the deep fryer pumping out crisp potatoes that begged for ketchup.

  Maude was eating, and explaining what Jessie James had told her when she looked up to see an elderly couple headed for Gandy’s store, with a teenage girl tagging behind, a cell phone in her hand. The girls thumbs were busy sending messages by text. The girl didn’t see Maude at first in her absorption with the small screen in front of her. She looked up about then, and recognizing Maude, she slipped on a rock, and went down in the mud of a pot hole near the outside water faucet.

  Maude nodded at the girl lying in misery upon the ground. Memories of the freeway from Madison reminded the girl that it was indeed a small world.

  “Hello, young lady. Let me help you up from there,” Joe said, reaching down to lift the small teenager off the ground. “Got a little mud on you,” he said straight-faced. “Joe Allen,” he introduced himself to the older couple and the girl.

  The police shield in his pocket came out in one smooth motion. He had practiced it several times. The couple walked over to where he and Maude had been sitting and began talking.

  “Are you working with Sheriff Jack?” the man asked.

  They both nodded toward the couple, and Joe followed up with a “Yes Sir.”

  “Dave and Mary Armour, we live here on the lake, have a place around the bend, near Jackson Park. This is our granddaughter Susan. Susan Bright. I want to report that our boat was stolen a few days ago, and we haven’t seen it. I thought maybe one of my neighbors borrowed it, but after talking to them, I know they didn’t take it, so someone stole it.”

  “What is your address, Mr. Armour? Did you have your boat secured?”

  “We live at #344 West Edwards Bay, Lot 23; right on the lake. The boat was parked in the boat slip, with a lock on the starter. It came that way from the factory. We’ve never had a problem with thieves, even when we’ve been out of town.”

  The man seemed worried about his boat, but even more concerned that thieves had been at his property. Welcome to the real world, Maude thought.

  The teenager, Susan Bright, had recovered and kept glancing at Maude surreptitiously, wondering if the old lady cop was going to ‘out’ her for her driving. Maude thought she would let her wonder for a while, and kept her eyes away from the girl’s. It wasn’t in her to make someone feel better after breaking several laws and putting people in jeopardy.

  Maude thanked the Armour’s after getting a full description of their boat, believing it would be found drifting in a quiet cove. She told them that someone would call if the boat was found, but meanwhile they needed to go to the Sheriff’s Office and make a formal report of the theft. As an afterthought, she gave them her card with her phone number in case the boat showed up. She avoided mentioning that the boat was more than likely used by the murderers of Aaron Dennis and Jenny Marx.

  After the sun had gone down, and most of the people gone, Maude wrote her most recent reports, keeping up with the progress of the murder investigation. As the lead investigating officer assisting Jack Fuller it was her responsibility to keep the information flowing among all the law enforcement officers working the case.

  “I’m going to call Sheriff Jack and tell him what we’ve found out so far, then go back to the room and go to bed. I’d like to get an early start tomorrow. It will take about an hour, maybe hour and a half in traffic to get there. Give us plenty of time to do some questioning.”

  “Fine with me,” Joe said. “But I think I’ll look this town over, see what’s jumping.”

  “Be my guest. But you’re driving tomorrow.”

  “Good to know. I’ll make sure there’s no one trying to ride in the back seat in the morning. Shoo her out before dawn.” Joe said, his green eyes twinkling.

  “You do that.”

  Yes, Maude was really glad to have her old partner with his cheerful attitude back. She made a note to ask him about it the next day.

  Jesus Jones had left her a note on the door of her room. “Miss Maude” it said, “that girl’s boyfriend in the blue Chevy disappeared, but the Chevy was left on the parking lot. Also, I called the number the man gave you. I overheard him and copied it down, but there was no such person at that number named Samuel Marshall. The old lady who answered the phone said that Samuel Marshall was her dead husband’s name, and she didn’t have a grandson, and by the way, where was her car?”

  “Well, this business is getting dirtier by the minute,” Maude said to herself, making a mental note to tell Jones to report the car on his parking lot as abandoned. She thought about getting prints from the car, but knew that was a waste of time. Whoever left it there expected them to look it over. She didn’t need another mystery in her life, but it looked as though she had one.

  The quarter-moon had widened a little, but it gave only a stingy light to the area around the motel. The street lights were bright in the front of the motel, but out back of Maude’s room, darkness filled most every nook and cranny outside the window. A fleeting shadow in the quarter-moon’s light could be seen occasionally as a night bird looking for food flew through the bright lights of the parking lot with its plethora of flying bugs; descending on cars, posts, and building to eat the quick meal snatched from the air. Maude saw those shadows as she sat in a chair by the back window, smoking her last unfiltered of the night.

  She was still committed to the cigarette cut-back, appreciating more every day the increase in her feelings of good health. I should have done this years ago, she thought. She was lonely, away from the comfort of her own home and the few friends she had there, and picked up her cell phone, thinking about calling Bill Page, but she wondered what she would say. He was a long way away from Madison, Texas. Still, it would be nice to hear his voice.

  The coffee pot was still on from earlier, and a cup of the strong black liquid was available, but she didn’t want to stay awake all night from the caffeine. The gin bottle was calling her, she knew its silky voice, but waiting was always the best response when she first heard the sound. Sometimes it would go away, the calling, but sometimes it wouldn’t leave her alone. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Each time a case landed in her lap where a young woman’s life had been taken violently, the need would take her there.

  The abuse done to Maude when she was a little girl left a world of memories living there in the black darkness of her mind, never going away, just lying quietly most of the time. Her loss of innocence at so early an early age, made Maude feel a kinship with slain young women barely into their blooming years.

  The clear bottle lay under her pillow, half-emptied from the night before. She picked it up, staring at the lid, imagining the sweet forgetfulness that would come from the last half. Being alone was a real downer, being sad and alone was a reason to drink. She tilted the opened bottle back and drank the first swallow, the contents burning her throat in the slide down toward her need.

  Maude had been using gin since her mother died of breast cancer. She always thought she should have saved her from the ravages of the disease, even when Grace was lying in the bed, weighing barely eighty pounds, Maude believed she could save her mother. The funeral had been blurred, formal, so many strangers from her mother’s life. The loneliness came hard and fast, her whole family gone, all that is except the old
man; her father, her abuser. The one who should have died was still alive trying to whine his way back into her life. Since then, even he was dead, an event that should have happened years ago.

  The last half of the bottle was gone, and Maude passed into a kind of sleep, restlessly tossing and turning on the motel bed. It was a way of life for her. She slept on through the next four hours, awakening with a headache and a need to pee. It was time to get up and greet the day.

  Chapter 10

  Her head felt the size of a basketball, swollen and full of air, she couldn’t think straight in the early morning. The coffee pot was too slow, the water in the shower too cold, the mirror too true. Her curly hair was unruly, too long, and rat gray. It was time for a box color. My, my, she thought to herself, I am a pretty, pleasant thing this morning.

  Joe was his regular cheerful self, a fact that could have brought him an early death had Maude been quicker, but the young man with the smile on his face also carried her first cup of coffee to the chair where she sat. He saved his own life. The resulting smirk on his handsome face told the real story; she was too old to keep up with him, especially after a ginned up night and four hours sleep.

  “Need to get going, Partner. I have tacos in the car.”

  “Tacos, my favorite food?” She asked, hopefully.

  “Uh-huh. For the road.”

  “You see Jesus Jones around this morning?”

  “No, he wasn’t in the office when I walked by.”

  “Oh Lord, I’ve told him time and again to stay out of police business, but he doesn’t listen. Yesterday he was following up on Samuel Marshall, or whoever the heck he is, calling the phone number he gave us. Bogus of course, but Jones is putting himself out there, going to get hurt. I don’t know who Marshall really is, but he knows us all now, especially Jones. I am a little concerned about the man and his eagerness to help the police.”

  “Maybe he’ll be around when we get back,” Joe said.

  “Well, let’s go. Tacos are waiting.”