Pit and Miss Murder

by Renee George

  Chapter 10

  I left the courthouse feeling slightly more optimistic but only slightly. Buzz getting bail granted was still a long way from clearing his name. If the turnout in the courtroom had been any indication, there would be a lot of folks with strong opinions making themselves heard over the next six weeks. I planned to work nonstop to find the real killer because the alternative was too horrible to think about. I needed to know how Jock died, and there was only one person who could supply that information.

  I called Reggie Crawford.

  "Hello, Lily," a girl who was not Reggie answered.

  "CeCe!" I exclaimed. "When did you get into town?"

  "This morning."

  "I can't wait to hear all about your classes, but right now I need to talk to your mom. Is she around?"

  "No, mom was up all night, so she took the morning off to sleep. I came in to help Mrs. Trevors call her patients and reschedule appointments."

  "Why do you have her phone?"

  "Oh, that. Well, Mom knew you would call. She told me to tell you that Sheriff Avery warned her that if she talked to you at all about the case, he would report her to the medical board for standards of practice violation. She doesn't trust herself not to spill the beans if she talks to you, so she made me take her phone so that I could be the bearer of bad news."

  "Oh, well...crap. I don't want to get her in trouble."

  "Mom said to tell you that she's sorry."

  "Tell her she's got nothing to be sorry for."

  "I will. Also, can you pick me up at her office."

  “Didn’t you drive there?"

  "Car trouble." She didn’t elaborate.

  If I couldn't talk to Reggie, Theresa was next on my list. I needed to know if she was responsible for Jock's death, and if she wasn't, she still might be able to fill in the blanks on who in this town hated the man enough or had any kind of motive to kill him.

  "I have a full morning. Why don't you call Addy? He's back home for summer break."

  "No," CeCe replied swiftly.

  “Is there a problem between you two?”

  “No,” she chuckled. “Nothing like that. I just want to surprise him tonight is all. So, I really need you to come get me." She emphasized the word “you.”

  "Me specifically."

  "Yes," she said.

  "Okay. I'm on my way."

  Reggie's office was in a complex that housed a dentist, an insurance company, and a physical therapist practice. Her clinic was the first door as you pulled into the parking lot. Since she wasn't seeing patients until this afternoon, her side of the lot only had two vehicles, one I assumed was CeCe’s, but neither of them looked old enough to have broken down.

  I expected CeCe to be waiting outside for me. She wasn't. I pulled into a space near the entrance and parked. I waited a minute, and when CeCe didn't come outside, I texted. I'm here.

  Not quite done. Can you come in?

  K, I replied.

  I'll admit I was annoyed as I got out of the truck and stomped inside. Sherry Trevors, a middle-aged office manager with professionally dyed, and highlighted brunette hair and abnormally peach skin from too much tanning, smiled up at me. "You can go on back," she said.

  "Thanks." I passed three empty exam rooms to get to Reggie's lair, as I liked to call it. CeCe stood behind her mom's desk and waved me inside. "Hey, Lily." She wore her raven black hair straight and down past her shoulders, and she wore a powder blue scooped-neck Tee that complemented her pale skin and a pair of blue denim skinny jeans.

  "You look good, CeCe. Washington University agrees with you."

  If possible, she appeared both pleased and sad. "I really like it there. My biochemistry classes are challenging but fun."

  I arched a brow. "Biochemistry sounds like a laugh riot."

  She shook her head on a laugh. "I really want to be an ecologist, and this is a good major to start with."

  Ah, youth. I loved that she wanted to save the world one plastic bottle at a time. "I'm proud of you." I nodded at the computer. "Are you ready to go?"

  She tapped some paperwork on the desk. "Not just yet."

  "What do you have left to do?"

  She tapped the paperwork again, and I noticed the sheet of paper under her hand. At the top, it said, Office of County Medical Examiner Investigation Report. "Mom says she's awfully sorry she can't help you on this one. Especially since Buzz is involved." CeCe flicked her gaze from the paper to me and back. There'd been no need, though. I might have been a little dense earlier, but now the message came through loud and clear.

  Reggie had arranged for me to "accidentally" come upon the report, so that if she was called before the medical board, she could say, without perjuring herself, that she didn't tell me anything about the autopsy.

  "I'm just going to run to the bathroom before you take me home," CeCe said. "I'll meet you outside."

  I slid the paper toward me after she left the room and moved right to the nitty-gritty.

  Body presents with left-sided periorbital and maxillary hematoma.

  In other words, the black eye Buzz had given him. Nothing ground-shaking there.

  Dried sputum, slight pink tinge around mouth.

  Pink? That indicated blood. Buzz had said Jock was slurring his words and frothing at the mouth.

  Unusual waffle pattern hematomas to bilateral patellas.

  Bruised knees. The next was the interesting part for me.

  Stab wound to right upper quadrant of abdomen. Weapon was a thin blade. Clean incision edge indicates an extremely sharp tool. Gastrointestinal perforation of the stomach and small intestines. No other signs of incision trauma.

  The knifing would have been extremely painful and possibly fatal without treatment, but the blade had not nicked an artery so it would not have been enough to kill him in a hurry.

  Excessive fluid in both lungs. No scarring to indicate a history of lung disease.

  It would have been difficult for Jock to breathe, let alone talk. No wonder his words had been slurred.

  Crystals found in kidneys, bilaterally, signs of acute renal failure. Crystals sent to lab for further testing.

  Ouch. Kidney stones were no joke.

  Fatty liver with mild cirrhosis. Blood chemistry pending.

  Most likely from his long-term use of alcohol. Jock liked his vodka, and he had been drunk when Buzz punched him at the diner.

  And finally, cause of death. Acute Pulmonary Edema, cause unknown. Cannot rule out homicide until further tests are completed.

  He’d suffocated on the fluids in his lungs. It sounded like the knife wound hadn't killed him even if Buzz had stabbed Jock, which was potentially good news. They might get him for assault, but murder was a stretch. Even so, the court might consider that the knife wound contributed to the death even if he didn't bleed out. I jotted down a few notes on copier paper then slid the report back into its folder. I heaved a sigh that had nothing to do with relief. I had more information now, but I still didn't have a clue.

  When I went out to the parking lot, CeCe stood next to my truck with a set of keys in her hands. There was a woman leaving the dentist office at the same moment. CeCe said loudly, “The car’s working now, Lily. It must have been something electrical.” She winked. “I’m sorry you wasted a trip.”

  “Seeing my favorite niece is never a wasted trip.” I smiled and gave her a hug. “Thank you. Have fun tonight with Addy.”

  After I left the plaza, I called Theresa. She’d surprised me by telling me she was at home. Not the trailer where she'd been living with Keith for the past year, but the house she'd shared with Jock. I've seen many faces of grief in my lifetime, but Theresa's confused me. She'd hated the man. He'd abused her mentally and physically for years. He'd made the past year of her life a virtual nightmare, yet, she'd been teary-eyed in the courtroom, and now she was sitting in the home where most of her abuse had been perpetrated. I couldn't decide if this made her seem less guilty or more so. Either way, I wouldn't
know until I asked.

  The address was 417 Oyster Lane in the Moonrise Heights suburb, the richest neighborhood in Moonrise, complete with its own clubhouse and golf course. Dang, the lawns all looked as if they were unrolled fresh daily, and I could fit my trailer and my house into most of their garages.

  When I rolled up to Theresa's place, I actually found myself gasping a little at the grandeur. She had a huge circle drive with a three-car garage, a cobblestone path crossed the yard, and the edges were planted with a variety of blue, yellow, and purple perennials. The actual house was modern in design, two-story brick front home with an entryway made for giants, and high, steep gable roofs that appeared to be sectioned, giving the place a definite mansion vibe.

  I'd never been in this part of town before, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt, I would only ever be a visitor here. This was where the one percent lived, and I was confident that unless I hit the lottery, I'd never be able to afford one of their vehicles, let alone their homes. Even if I could, the neighborhood, even with its glorious landscaping, left me feeling cold. I'd dealt with the wealthy in my hometown, and whether the rich were witches, shifters, or humans, they almost always had one thing in common, they believed they were inherently better because they had money. At least that had been my belief, but Theresa had never made me feel like I was less than, and this had been her life. I liked to think of myself as an open person, someone who gives people the benefit of the doubt, but I supposed even I could make assumptions about a group of people based on my limited experience.

  Still, I didn't think I'd be joining the Moonrise Country Club anytime soon.

  I parked on the street, because my truck Martha tended to leak oil and old transmission fluid, and I didn't want to mar the perfect gray of the concrete driveway. I felt jittery as I strolled to the front door. I knew Theresa, I reminded myself. She was my friend, and I would keep reminding myself, even if she had been the one to kill her husband.

  I rang the doorbell. Theresa's voice came over an intercom and said, "Come in, Lily." The door made an electronic clicking noise as it unlocked. I opened it and went inside.

  "Hello?" The open floor plan included a huge kitchen with high-end appliances, a ten-foot breakfast bar, and floor to ceiling cabinets. Her living room had a large brown leather pit set, with matching leather ottoman, a moose skin in front of the fireplace, and several deer head and fish mounted on the walls. Had Jock been a hunter? He struck me as the kind of guy who only preyed on women, but maybe he had a taste for conquest in other areas as well. The one thing missing from the large space was Theresa. I spoke loudly, "Theresa, where are you?"

  "I'm upstairs," she yelled, her voice strained and hoarse. I walked the half spiral up to the second floor and followed the banister down a wide path past several closed doors until I came to an open one. Theresa sat on a four-poster king size bed complete with down comforter and enough pillows to build a really good fort. There were four suitcases on the floor with women's dresses, shirts, jeans, and more were haphazardly piled inside each open case. Theresa squinted up at me, her eyes still red and slightly swollen. Her hands were on her thighs, palms up. She glanced down at them and back at me.

  "When I left him, I took nothing. I came to get my clothes." She sounded like a lost child.

  "Do you need help packing?"

  She shuddered as a sob choked from her throat. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and the noise she made reminded me of a hyena. Goddess. She was crying, but she was also...laughing.

  "Theresa? Are you okay?"

  "He's gone," she said. "Really gone. And I'm," she laughed more, the tears still rolling. "I'm so relieved." She stared at me, horrified at herself as the words left her mouth. "Jock is dead, and I'm free. I don't have to be afraid ever again."

  Chapter 11

  I thought the idea of never being afraid again was a bit overly optimistic. However, I knew what she meant. Jock couldn't hurt her anymore. Not physically, anyhow. I sent up a prayer to the goddess that Theresa hadn't had anything to do with Jock's demise. If she had, as far as I'm concerned, it was justified, but the law wouldn't see it in that light. And I wouldn't let my uncle go to jail for her.

  "I'm glad Buzz got bail this morning. All I wanted to do in that courtroom was to stand up and tell everyone that we should be thanking him, not trying to convict him. Getting rid of Jock was a community service."

  "You loved him once," I said.

  Her expression turned stony as she focused her gaze on me. "Any love I felt for him, he beat out of me a long time ago." She put her hand on her stomach. "Keith is ten times the man Jock ever was. A hundred times."

  "Do you really think Buzz killed Jock?"

  Her brows lifted. "Don't you?"

  "No. I think he was set up."

  "By who?"

  "You tell me?"

  "Lily, you don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?"

  "No, I really don't, but you understand, I have to ask. Did you kill Jock or have him killed?" I put my mojo into the question. It didn't always work, especially if the truth was something the person planned to take to the grave. Theresa, who hated secrets even though she had many, had been susceptible to my truth magic in the past even when I wasn't trying.

  Surprisingly, though, this time she didn't answer me. "I have to pack my things. Keith is expecting me home."

  I could have probably forced her to answer my question, but in doing so, I'd ruin any relationship we had. I still didn't think she was a killer, but maybe she was protecting someone. Her dad? Keith? Maybe. I would find another way that didn't require me to destroy Jock's biggest victim in order to get justice.

  "Okay," I said. "Do you want me to help you?"

  "No. I'm not even sure I want any of these things. I don't know why I came back here. I've been living in Walmart clothes for the past year, and I've never been happier. Maybe I will give everything to Goodwill."

  "You know this is your house again? The divorce wasn't final, so you should inherit everything." Which was also a huge motive. I hadn't realized how much Theresa had lost until I came here today.

  "It is," she said as if just realizing. Her eyes shimmered with emotion. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing. At least, not today." I put my hand on top of hers. "When the time comes, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

  She must have changed her mind because she said. "I think I'd like it if you stayed to help me finish here."

  "Then, I will." And as much as I wanted to help my friend, this was also an opportunity to search for more clues.

  Forty minutes into folding, packing, and loading, I'd discovered that Theresa had a shoe collection that rivaled Carrie from Sex in the City. Most of the shoes were three to four inches high, and my feet had ached just looking at them.

  "Do you want something to drink?" I asked Theresa. "Surely, Jock has soda or something in the fridge."

  "He doesn't allow beverages in the bedroom," she said automatically.

  Gently, I replied, "He doesn't make the rules anymore."

  "Right," she said. "Yes, then. I'll take juice or ice water. I'm trying to be more aware of what I'm putting in my body."

  I nodded and smiled. "I'll find you something."

  I'd passed the kitchen on the way in, so I knew exactly where I was going, but I made a few detours on the way there, trying to find Jock's home office. It was on the first floor past a formal dining room, a bathroom, a guest bedroom, and a library full of legal books. The office was hexagonal with taupe walls, chocolate trim. A dark walnut desk in front of a large window overlooked an impressively gaudy fountain using a replica of Michelangelo's Bacchus sculpture, and the water had been rigged to flow over the wine goblet in the party god's hand as little sprays of water jumped playfully about his feet.

  His office space was entirely too tidy. I stretched my cougar sense, inhaling deeply. Jock's scent was faint. Barely there. If he used this office at all, it had not been recently. He d
idn't have a computer on the desk, which meant he probably used a laptop. I'd seen him with one at his office. I'd call Nadine later and see if it had been confiscated. Had the police searched his law office? Would they, since the crime hadn't taken place there, and they were certain they'd arrested the right person? I was itchy to drive over right now, afraid to let any evidence that could clear Buzz slip from my grasp.

  The lack of scent in the office had been strange, but okay, Jock could have done most of his work at the office. But I realized, I hadn't smelled much in the master bedroom either. Had Jock been staying somewhere else? The house didn't have any dust in it, so obviously he had a housekeeper, but there was nothing personal in the place. Nothing to indicate it was someone's home.

  I went to the fridge. Inside was a case of flavored sparkling water, some cranberry juice, two bottles of top-shelf vodka, a fancy cheese wheel, champagne, wilted lettuce, a small jar of coarse ground mustard, and an expired gallon of milk.

  "Where have you been, Jock?" I asked out loud.

  "I'd heard he'd been seeing someone," Theresa said.

  I'd been so focused on the fridge, I hadn't heard her come downstairs.

  She smiled. "Did you find something to drink?"

  "Sparkling water and cranberry juice."

  She made a face. "I'm not in the mood for either of those."

  "What are you in the mood for?"

  "A shot of whiskey." She laughed. "Even in death, that man makes me want to drink." She put her hand on her stomach again. "All I ever wanted was a man who would look at me the way my dad looks at my mom. He calls her Hummingbird because when they met in college, she was the busiest girl he’d ever met.” Theresa smiled. “Mom was on the student council, she belonged to Beta Gamma Sigma, an honor society for business students, and she played college volleyball all while carrying a full class load. He used to joke that if he hadn’t put out honeysuckle to trap her, his hummingbird would have flown right past him.” She sighed. “Why couldn’t Jock have been that guy? I'm thirty-five, Lily. Is that too old to be a mom?"