Pains and Penalties: (A Geeks and Things Cozy Mystery Novella #1) (Geeks and Things Cozy Mysteries)

by Sarah Biglow

  Public sentiment is clear. They want a conviction sooner rather than later. Alice’s parents asked the defendant to simply confess to the crime so they could let their daughter rest in peace.

  It definitely seemed like Mrs. Grant, Mrs. Davies and Ms. Ellicott had been sure of what they’d seen. Kalina had no way of knowing which details were fabricated but she was beginning to suspect most of them had been made up. Perhaps someone in the police force had pressured them to make statements against Sam Gordon. Or perhaps the real killer had threatened them for their perjured testimony. There were two more articles on the list. She had to retrieve a new set of editions from the shelves to find the one from April 18th. Again, Mr. Jenkins made the front page. This time the photo depicted Sam Gordon, face in his hands. The article was a short paragraph.

  Gordon Sentenced to Life

  By: Adam Jenkins, Staff Reporter

  After an abbreviated defense, in which counsel for the defendant, Alan Grant, did not question anyone but Gordon’s wife, Catherine, to attest to his character, the jury retired for the shortest deliberation in the history of Ellesworth. Only ninety minutes after being issued jury instructions, they returned with a verdict: guilty. Gordon was sentenced to life in prison for Alice Beech’s murder. He was seen crying as the bailiff removed him from the courtroom. He was not permitted to say goodbye to his wife or son.

  Kalina let out a gasp and a single tear ran down her cheek. She was beginning to understand why someone would want revenge on the people who led to the wrongful conviction and imprisonment of this man. As she dried her eyes and returned the newspaper to its protective folder, she had to wonder. Why had Gordon’s lawyer not let him testify? Surely he had an alibi? Why did the attorney not cross-examine the witnesses? Had the attorney had something to do with setting Gordon up? She scanned the article one last time before she put it back.

  “Oh damn!” She bit her tongue for swearing but there was no one around to hear her.

  The pieces were starting to come together. She had to check one piece of information but she had an idea why the three women were involved. She still had one final article, from June 1987, to review and it didn’t make sense to abandon the newspaper archives until she’d done so. The final article was even shorter than the one about the verdict.

  Murderer Samuel Gordon Takes Own Life

  By: Adam Jenkins, Staff Reporter

  In what can only be deemed a further admission of guilt, one year and two months after he was sentenced to life in prison for the brutal murder of Alice Beech, Samuel Gordon was found dead in his cell. Reports confirm he hung himself. Gordon is survived by his wife Catherine and their son, Danny. Unable to take the shame, Catherine and her son moved out of the area. It is rumored she now goes by her maiden name.

  “Well, that’s as clear a motive as you’re likely to get,” she said to no one in particular.

  She needed to go check marriage records. If she could figure out what the former Mrs. Gordon changed her name to, she might have a better shot at pointing Chris in the right direction. Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. There was no Caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Kal, it’s Chris Harper.”

  “Hi. Is something wrong?” She almost felt guilty for using her phone in the confines of the library. Almost.

  “I wanted to let you know that the lab put a rush on that fingerprint on the letter opener.”

  Kalina’s heart started to race at the unexpected news. He was keeping his word about looping her in on the investigation. Maybe she could point out that she had discovered the motive for the killings. “Who does it belong to?”

  “You aren’t going to like it. It matched Margaret Grant.”

  She let out a groan. “No, that can’t be right.”

  “Well, I’m afraid it is. I mean, come on. It was monogramed with her initials.”

  “But you don’t know that it was hers. Plenty of people in town have those initials.”

  “Name one.”

  “I… I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head. But, Chris, I think I found something.”

  Muffled sounds came over the line. “I have to go. Officers just brought Mrs. Grant in. They found her at the cemetery visiting her husband. Thanks for your help on this.”

  He hung up before she could share the news that, even if the evidence pointed to Mrs. Grant, the poor old woman was being framed. Just like Sam Gordon. She rose halfway out of her chair and stopped. Should she finish up here or go and try to observe the interrogation? Was that even possible? She didn’t have time to debate. If she didn’t move fast, the wrong person would be arrested for a crime they didn’t commit—again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kalina hastily put the newspapers back in their respective bins and took the stairs to the main level of the library two at a time. Pushing the front door open in a hurry, she staggered as the summer heat smacked her in the face. Sweat prickled along her hairline and her upper lip. She hadn’t noticed how cool the basement had been. The sudden change in temperature only spurred her on to get to the police station.

  By the time she arrived, she felt as if she’d been dunked in salt water. A quick glance in the mirror in the women’s bathroom dispelled the idea that she was drenched in sweat. The central hub of the station was still sparsely populated, save for the two uniformed officers. They looked like they were right out of the academy, maybe only a few years older than AJ. They were both staring at a TV monitor that looked like it belonged in the early 1990s. At least it was in color and the audio seemed to be working. Mrs. Grant sat on the far side of a rickety-looking, faux wooden table. Chris sat across from her with a bulging folder. Kalina inched closer to better hear the conversation.

  “Mrs. Grant, are you sure you don’t want a lawyer present?”

  “If I really needed one, you would have told me that you’re charging me with something.”

  “Ma’am, I need you to affirmatively state that you are waiving your right to have counsel present during this interview.”

  Mrs. Grant pressed her lips together and squared her shoulders. “I do not want a lawyer. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Chris coughed. “Yes, thank you. Now, I’d like to talk to you about Cynthia Ellicott.”

  “What about her?”

  “You two are friends?”

  “I suppose.”

  “In fact, you were friends with both Cynthia and Agatha weren’t you?”

  “Yes. What does that matter?”

  “You know that Agatha died at the fair. We discovered Cynthia Ellicott’s body earlier today in her home. She’d been stabbed—” he retrieved the bloodstained letter opener, still safely sealed in its evidence bag “—with this.”

  Kalina waited for Mrs. Grant to react. The older woman studied the letter opener through the clear plastic in silence for what seemed like hours. Finally, she let out a shudder and dabbed at her eyes.

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Have you seen this letter opener before?”

  “I don’t know. Why should I have?”

  “We lifted a fingerprint from the handle.” He pointed to the swirls of fingerprint powder still clinging to the metal. “It was a match to you. So would you like to rethink your answer?”

  Mrs. Grant kneaded her hands together in a nervous tic. She glanced around the small interview room, anywhere but at Chris. “I leant that to Cynthia ages ago. She never returned it. She was always forgetting to give things back even when we were girls in school.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Last week. Agatha and I cooked for her a few times a week. Those awful frozen meals were no good for her health.”

  “Was Mrs. Davies there last week, too?”

  “Yes. You can’t honestly believe I would murder my friends. That’s lunacy!”

  Chris didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into the folder again and produced one of the notes. Kalina couldn’t tell which one it was. They’d all
looked identical. Chris pushed the evidence across the table to Mrs. Grant. “Do you recognize this?”

  “Someone slipped it under my door.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember. Last week maybe.”

  “Last week or you don’t remember, which is it, Mrs. Grant?”

  She fidgeted and kneaded her hands again. “Last week.”

  “When you went over to Ms. Ellicott’s house, did you three talk about the notes?”

  “No, it didn’t come up.”

  Kalina chewed her lower lip. She didn’t like where this was going. Sure, the evidence looked bad but she knew the reason. Someone was framing Mrs. Grant. She needed to get that information to Chris before he made a huge mistake. She took quick steps to the door leading to the interview room. The sudden movement roused the two officers from their trance.

  “Hey! How’d you get in here?” one called.

  “You can’t go in there!” the other said.

  Kalina knocked sharply twice on the door and waited. She stood to the side so that when Chris opened the door Mrs. Grant wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t hear voices anymore and she held her breath. Chris opened the door and stared at her. He pushed her out of the way and slipped out of the room, being careful to keep his body in the way so Mrs. Grant couldn’t see what was going on.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You said you had Mrs. Grant in custody.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Then why did you call me? You had to know I couldn’t just sit around not knowing. I mean do you even have a motive?”

  Chris opened his mouth but closed it again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Not yet.”

  “I have one for you and I don’t think it was her.”

  “Kalina, the evidence points to her. It was her letter opener. It was her print on the letter opener.”

  “Did you find her prints on anything when Mrs. Davies died?”

  “No. Those prints aren’t back yet.”

  “What about the blood?” She propped herself against the side of a tall, metal filing cabinet sitting just outside the interview room.

  “I’m pretty sure, since we pulled it out of Ms. Ellicott’s chest, it was hers.”

  “No—the blood on the handle of the letter opener. I noticed it at the scene. I assumed you did too and were having it tested.”

  Chris cleared his throat and turned away from her. He hadn’t noticed the blood. Maybe the killer hadn’t noticed they’d cut themselves either. The air grew still and heavy between them as Kalina waited for him to speak. Finally, he grabbed her by the elbow and ushered her into Captain Cahill’s empty office.

  “Look, what is this theory of yours anyway?”

  “I know I’m not a cop or anything but I am pretty good at research. I talked to Mrs. Grant earlier and she told me that she, Mrs. Davies and Ms. Ellicott gave false testimony in a trial thirty years ago. Someone involved in the case is back for revenge.”

  “She told you this?”

  “Yes. I think she’s wanted to say something for a while. She seemed almost relieved when she told me.”

  “All right. I’ll see what I can find out. But you need to not be here, okay?”

  “I’ll go. I had something to do anyway. But can you just tell me one thing?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe.”

  “Her husband, was his name Alan?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “She said he died a year ago in a car accident.”

  “That’s right. Pretty nasty scene from what I heard. Slammed into a tree.”

  “When last year?”

  “I don’t know. Summertime.”

  “June?”

  “I guess.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  She headed for the front door and caught sight of one of the new officers coming out of the interview room looking shell shocked. He approached Chris and said, “She wants a lawyer.”

  “Guess you’ll have to wait on that evidence after all,” Kalina said and left the station. If she could figure out one piece of information she could finally solve this puzzle.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kalina’s nerves tingled as she jogged back to the shop. She could do her last bit of research there. The records she needed were electronic, even that far back. She hoped it would take a little while for Mrs. Grant to get her lawyer. It would give Kalina the time she needed to figure out who the real killer was and, hopefully, Chris could do his own research into the Gordon trial.

  “We’re closed,” AJ called when Kalina tried the front door.

  “AJ, it’s me! Let me in.”

  The lock released and her nephew appeared in the doorway. “Sorry.”

  “I thought I sent you home,” she chided and pushed past him.

  “You did. I didn’t listen. What did you find out?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle it.”

  “No. I’m not going to be responsible for putting you in therapy. You can stay but only if you go clean up the game room.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t even the one who made the mess.”

  “And yet I’m the boss and I say go clean it up.”

  “Fine.”

  She swatted his arm as he walked by. Now alone in the front of the shop, she grabbed her tablet and fired up the library website. The town was small enough that the library housed most of the town hall records regarding marriages, births and deaths. She found the listing for marriage licenses and typed in Samuel Gordon. With any luck he’d be the only one in town. It seemed luck was on her side. There was a single entry for a Samuel Gordon dated February 9, 1975. There was a scanned-in version of the actual license and she opened it up in a new tab. She had to enlarge the picture to get the image clear enough to read.

  The tablet fell out of her hands and clattered on the counter. It couldn’t be right. Taking two deep breaths, she picked up the tablet again and looked. She’d been right the first time. Samuel Gordon had married one Catherine Cahill. Her stomach sloshed, suddenly uneasy, as she navigated to birth records and typed in Daniel Gordon. Sure enough, a record appeared from April of 1976. Daniel Michael Gordon had been born a healthy little boy to Samuel Gordon and Catherine Gordon.

  Kalina slumped against the countertop, her ears ringing with the realization of what it all meant. How could she have missed it? The last article had practically screamed the information at her! But she needed to be sure. The phrase the three women had been sent was very specific. Something deep down in her mind insisted she had to be absolutely sure of the killer’s identity before she started accusing people. Chris wouldn’t believe her unless he had actual proof.

  Swallowing several times so she could speak, she dialed Chris’ number and waited. It rang three times. Four. Five. Finally, just before it flipped to voicemail, he picked up.

  “Hey, I haven’t found anything yet. We’re still waiting for her lawyer.”

  “I know.” Her voice shook.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. I just… I needed to know something. Where did you say the officers found Mrs. Grant?”

  “The cemetery. Why?”

  “No reason. I was just wondering. I have to go.”

  She hung up before he could question her further. Did Mrs. Grant have it figured out too? Or did she just want to pay her respects and voice her apology to the man she and her friends had pushed to an early grave? Either way, she needed to find that gravesite. With a quick glance toward the back room, she rushed out through the front door. AJ could handle himself.

  The cemetery was on the other side of the church. Mrs. Grant probably hadn’t left the area after they’d spoken. By the time she reached the main gate, Kalina’s calves had cramped from running and her chest burned from the stress of the run. She wasn’t out of shape by any means but the whole situati
on was taking a toll. As she eased through the gate and began searching the stone markers, she wondered how it could have only been two days since Mrs. Davies died. It was clear that Ms. Ellicott had, in fact, been the first victim. An involuntary shiver danced down her spine. Nothing like this was supposed to happen in Ellesworth. It was just a sleepy, little coastal town with nice people.

  The headstones varied in color, some brand new, others beaten down and almost illegible with age. She longed for a helpful “You Are Here” map but was left to wandering aimlessly through the rows of the dead. She had nearly reached the back fence when she spotted what looked like fresh flowers leaning up against a slightly weathered headstone. They looked familiar somehow. Kalina’s heart sank when she reached the stone to find it belonged to none other than Samuel Gordon. He’d been buried at home after all. The epitaph read, “Lying is a mortal sin and you never did.” She had all the proof she needed now. She snapped a photo of the grave and sent it off to Chris with a message that she had found the proof that Mrs. Grant was being framed. And the flowers finally clicked in her addled brain. Captain Cahill had given the same flowers to Leslie when she won at the fair the day before. Now she just needed to get to the station and warn Chris about Captain Cahill before it was too late.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  This time, Kalina really was drenched in sweat as she staggered through the front door of the police station. Chris hadn’t responded to her text but she hadn’t really expected him to. The station was eerily empty and quiet. Where was everyone? She moved slowly, afraid something or someone might jump out at her at any second. The tiny hairs on her arms stood on end, another warning sign. She finally reached the monitor linked to the interview room. Mrs. Grant still sat there, alone, a plastic bottle of water cupped between her hand. Where was her lawyer? She’d asked for one nearly an hour ago. And where was Chris?

  “Hello?” she called out.

  No response. This wasn’t right. She studied the video feed and noted that the folder of evidence was no longer strewn across the table. Maybe Chris had taken it to get it tested. That still didn’t explain why Mrs. Grant had been left alone. Kalina’s stomach churned again and she swallowed back the rising acid. She fished her phone from her pocket and dialed Chris’s cell phone. This time it rang five times before clicking over to voicemail.