by CJ Birch
Stan had called in a plate right before he’d been killed. The car he’d pulled over had belonged to a Scott Mitchell and had been reported missing several days ago. The car was a blue Jetta, the same car Robin had been driving. She didn’t think it was a coincidence. In fact, Elle was pretty sure that Stan had pulled Robin over and she’d shot him before he could discover it.
Of course, she had no evidence to prove any of this. Just a hunch and circumstantial evidence.
She was about to head out for her fifth cup of the day when Brady strode in. “What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you out there organizing everything? The festival’s today and you’re in here sitting on your ass?”
“Is that today? Shit.” Elle searched through several piles of folders until she pulled one out and opened it.
Brady paused for a brief moment before exploding in apoplectic rage. “For Christ’s sake, Elle. How could you have forgotten? We’ve only been preparing for it for the past six months.”
Elle ignored him. She called Neil in with a loud yell to the outer offices.
Neil sauntered in, an apple fritter in one hand, a coffee in the other, and a lazy, almost somnolent way about him. “You rang, boss?” He leaned against the doorframe.
“Yeah, how’s operation Drunk Hicks going?”
“Really?” asked Brady, an exasperated look on his face. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Well, we’ve got Gilford and his boys out making the rounds now. They all know the lowdown. No firearms, no open booze outside the beer tents, no brawling, and no tobacco spitting.”
“Tobacco spitting?” asked Brady.
Neil took a bite of his fritter, ignoring Brady, and chewed for a moment before continuing. “We’ve got five off-duty state troopers out on loan showing up at three to help with security. I had Heather hand out that flyer you made up last year for businesses, warning them to lock up tight before heading out to the party. All in all, I’d say we’re ready. Tully and Sandy are organizing the actual events going on and so I’ve kept my nose out of that.”
“That’s great, Neil. Thanks.”
Neil patted his baton as he turned to leave. “No problemo, boss, I’ve got all the help I need right here.”
Elle turned to Brady. “You were saying?” She flipped the file closed and placed it on one of the towering stacks.
“And what have you got in place if it rains? There’s a forty percent chance we’ll get that thunderstorm heading toward St. Louis.” His face darkened as he thought of what sort of havoc rain would have on his festival. For Brady, it was just as disastrous as that spark that lit into Chicago or the asteroid that had killed all the dinosaurs.
“That’s not my area, Brady. My guys are here to make sure nobody hurts themselves or others, that’s it. Anything else, ask Tully or Sandy.” She waved him away. “I do have more important things to handle. One being a double homicide investigation.”
“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Now, I know you must feel like you’ve got a bit of egg on the face with this whole EJ thing, but I don’t want you to worry. I completely understand how hard this has been for you.” He tried to make his face appear understanding, but failed. “In fact, I called Ed over in Hardin and told him about the whole situation.” He leaned back and folded his hands over his belly. “I think it would be best if you just gracefully let him deal with this.”
“Yeah, about that.” Elle got up from her desk, opened the top file cabinet and pulled out a large book. She threw it on the desk in front of Brady. The loud slap made him jump. “Why don’t you have a read on page one fifty-five.” She sat back down and leaned across her desk. Her first incoming call that morning had been from the sheriff of Hardin County. He had an amused, almost apologetic tone as he relayed his conversation with Brady. “You have absolutely no jurisdiction in this matter. None. So get your ass out of my office and let me do my job.”
“Don’t be so pigheaded. I’ve seen the evidence against him. Any jury in the country would convict him.”
“The so-called evidence against him is why he’s sitting in a cell downstairs. If I was as biased as everyone in this town makes me out to be, I wouldn’t have detained my own brother.”
“His fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”
“His fingerprints are not on the murder weapon. Stop listening to town gossip and let me do my job.”
“If you knew how to do your job we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Elle stood. “Brady, I swear, if you weren’t the mayor…” She let the rest of her sentence fall away. What she’d wanted to say was unprofessional, but just the thought of it made her feel better. “I have more important things to take care of right now.”
Brady stood to follow her out of her office. “I’m not done. The other thing I wanted to talk to you about is the vote scheduled for three thirty tomorrow afternoon.” He hiked up his pants as he said it and shoved his hands in his pockets. Elle was just at the door to the stairs leading to the basement, her hand on the knob, when she reared back at him.
“Brady, stay out of my way today. I mean it. Go enjoy yourself. Have some beer and pie.” She waved toward the street, indicating that he should be anywhere but here, in front of her. “But just go.”
Brady stood his ground, shifting his weight, jamming his thumbs deeper into his belt loops. Elle was stubborn, but Brady hadn’t become mayor by giving up so easily. “Judge Keeler called. He said you were harassing him and Dell.”
“Oh, please, I didn’t even speak to Keeler, he let his wife give me some lie about being at work.”
“This is going to happen whether you want it to or not. It’s clear you’ve picked your side, but it’s the wrong one, Elle.”
She grabbed the knob to the basement door and yanked it open. “Get out of my station.” She turned and descended the stairs at speed. Only when she reached the bottom did she realize she’d forgotten the keys to the cell.
She waited for Brady to leave before heading back upstairs.
* * *
EJ lay on his side facing the wall, his nose a few inches from the gray cement, his knees tucked next to his stomach. His mood was the color of the wall. This was the second time in weeks he’d spent the night on this cot. The weight of how much trouble he was in settled at the pit of his stomach, causing a storm of acid to swirl up and give him heartburn. He knew he deserved to be here, he just didn’t have the guts to tell Elle why. It would forever damage their relationship, as much as she would deny it. He knew Elle better. They had a lot in common, but she had something he never would, which made her a better person: drive.
And here she was stuck in Turlough with him. Instead of leading the life she should’ve had with kids and a husband, a career up in Chicago, she worked late. Night after night, he’d come home to Elle asleep on the couch, paperwork scattered around her like petals sprinkled by a lover. This wasn’t the life she would have picked for herself. Hell, it wasn’t even the life he’d have wished on her. But she was here. For him.
At the sound of the door to the basement opening, EJ turned his back to the bars, feigning sleep. He didn’t want to talk to Elle or Neil right now.
There was a soft chuckle. “Faker. You’re not asleep.” Dan kicked the bars. “Get up.”
EJ turned to see Dan grinning at him from the other side of the bars. “What’re you doing? You’re not supposed to be down here.”
Dan shrugged. “Who cares? Everyone’s so busy with this stupid festival I could probably drive Deputy Do-Right’s cruiser out of here and no one would notice.” He gave two thumbs up. “Your sister sure did her due diligence there.”
“What are you doing here?”
Dan’s mouth curled into one of his shit-eating grins. “I came to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye? You’re leaving?” EJ got up and went to the bars.
“That’s what good-bye means, doesn’t it? I’m heading out of town. I need to get on with my life. I’d hate to e
nd up stuck in this shit hole like your sister.”
“Where’re you going?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, someplace else.”
“How’re you going to live? You’re just going to leave Lisa?”
Dan scowled and it transformed his face into something dark. He didn’t like being told how to take care of his sister. “I’m going to come back for her. I just need to get settled first.”
EJ didn’t know why, but that thought gave him the chills. “I thought we were going to go together?”
Dan slapped his hand against one of the bars. “Well, I can’t really wait around here for you to get out. Could be a while, you know, considering.”
EJ stared. Dan seemed to shrink, as if announcing his departure made him smaller. EJ wanted to shout that he couldn’t go, couldn’t leave him behind like this. But in that moment, he realized it would be useless. Dan would go anyway and take pleasure in seeing EJ beg. In the end, any plea on EJ’s part would make him lose more. So he shrugged and sat on the cot. He lay down, crossed one leg over the other, and laced his hands behind his head. “See you,” he said.
Dan stood there for a second, waiting for something more. When he didn’t get it, he turned toward the stairs. “Hey, at least I came to say good-bye.” He mounted the steps.
At the click of the door latch, one painful thought passed through EJ’s mind. Elle had been right, Dan was no friend of his.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Elle headed toward the station. After her blowup with Brady, she’d decided to head home to double-check her house for that key. She wanted to be sure she hadn’t misplaced it. But she was sure she’d had it on last night because she remembered hearing it hit the floor with her tank. She’d spent twenty minutes shaking out every piece of clothing on her floor. Nothing. Jennifer Trafford had taken it. She was sure of it.
The main strip of Turlough had been transformed since she’d first arrived that morning. Tables and booths were erected parallel to the sidewalks. They’d set up barricades. Main Street was now a pedestrian-only area, forcing Elle to move her cruiser to a side street. A group of shirtless men hoisted a giant tent up in the square to the right of the sheriff’s office. That would be the beer tent. Empty now, in several hours it would be overflowing with good ole boys becoming increasingly louder and drunker as the night wore on.
She heard a catcall coming from the vicinity of the tent. Then a loud “Morning, Sheriff!” She nodded, but kept her pace quick, entering the sheriff’s office as another series of catcalls and whistles reached her.
“Jesus,” she said when she was safe inside the office. Heather was at the front desk sorting through reports Elle knew would be complaints from the usual suspects.
“Morning, Sheriff.” Heather looked up from her papers. “Mr. Case wanted me to let you know he’s in his office downstairs.”
“Thanks, Heather. Any calls you get about the festival, can you direct those to Neil?”
Heather nodded.
The safe behind Elle’s desk stood closed. She tried the handle. Locked, just as she’d left it. Although if that was because Jennifer hadn’t been here or she’d already been and gone, Elle wasn’t sure.
She closed the door to her office before picking up the phone and dialing.
“Travis here.”
“Hey, it’s Elle. Do you have time to come by the station today? I have kind of an urgent matter I need help with.”
There was a long pause on the other end, which meant Sandy had him tethered to the festival today.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t incredibly important. If anyone gives you grief, tell them it’s police business.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, so bring your tools.”
He sighed into the phone, but she knew he’d much rather duck out for work than set up tables and help his wife decorate. “All right. Give me ten minutes to grab my stuff. If I catch shit for this, I’m sending it your way.”
“Fair enough.”
When he’d finally arrived and she’d explained about the misplaced key, he looked less than happy at being pulled away from setting up tables.
“Elle, this is a safe. I’m a locksmith.”
“And?”
“And you need a safe technician.” He went to the double doors and spun the combination wheel that kept them locked. “Locks, yes. This is a whole other beast.” He ran his hand through salt-and-pepper hair. “You don’t know the combination?”
“I usually never lock it, so I don’t need to remember it.”
“And you don’t have the combination written down anywhere?”
Elle bit her lip. “I do. It’s etched into the key.”
Travis scratched at the stubble on his chin. It made rasping noises. It was the warning sign that Travis was about to explode.
Elle spread her hands. “It wasn’t me who did it. That’s how it was when Bailey gave me the key. I’m not sure who the idiot was.”
Travis stared at the ground in front of the safe, mumbling to himself before looking up at Elle. “Welp, I hope nobody finds it because you’ve just given them a neon sign to this monstrosity. Let me guess, the other side says ‘key to the safe in the sheriff’s office’?”
“I don’t think that would fit.”
“A keychain perhaps?”
Elle held her hand up stopping him from going any further. “Okay. I get it. Is there a safe technician nearby?”
Travis shrugged. “Even if there was, you got eight hundred bucks to give ’em?”
Elle ran her hand over the dial. Inside was one hundred grand. And twenty-five of that was actually her money, but it might as well have been Monopoly money for all the good it did. It was now evidence in a murder investigation. “Nope. Wish I did.” She turned to Travis. “I have another question. You know that reporter who was staying at your place? Sandy said she left early this morning. You know what time she left?”
“Nah. It was pretty early though. I was up at six and her car was gone. She paid up, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Cash?”
“It’s king.”
“No credit card on file?”
“No.”
“You guys take license plate numbers of your guests?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s nothing. Thanks for coming, Travis.”
He gave her a weak salute and left, swinging his toolbox as he went.
She took a key out of her desk drawer and locked her office door before heading toward the basement. “Has anyone been in my office this morning?”
Heather shook her head, “Just you.”
“Has the station been left unattended since I left?”
Heather checked her watch, centering it on her wrist, a nervous, twitchy habit. “Neil asked me to put a box of fliers in the trunk of his cruiser around ten thirty, but that only took a second, why?”
It was twenty past eleven now. “Was Neil here when you did that?”
A worried look planted itself on Heather’s face, she glanced toward the front door, shaking her head. “He’s been in and out all morning. He’s been pretty busy getting everything ready for tonight,” she said in case Elle thought Neil was slacking off.
“Is everything okay?” Her voice took on a plaintive, almost breathy whine as she said it.
Elle nodded but didn’t answer as she disappeared into the basement.
Case was at his desk packing up a file box with various odds and ends, most of which were picture frames and leather-bound reference books. He was wearing a dark red golf shirt and khaki pants instead of his usual suit.
“What are you doing? The vote isn’t until tomorrow.”
Case waved her off. “I’m old, not an idiot. They want me gone, Elle.”
“So what? You show up in a polo shirt and casual pants all ready to retire? You can’t give up.” Case continued to pack, ignoring the desperate look on Elle’s face. “You have to fight.”
Case harrumphed. �
��Fighting’s for the young. By the time you’re my age the only decent thing to do is roll over and play dead.” He even managed to chuckle. “I had a good run, though. Made it longer than most.”
“Stop.” Elle grabbed a book on anatomy from Case. “You can’t go yet, this case isn’t finished.”
He shook his head. “This is your case, Elle. I’m just the guy who roots around in the bodies.”
“But I still need your help on this.” Elle rushed through Neil’s early morning discovery of Robin Oakes’s real identity before Case could protest again.
Jack picked up a folder and handed it to Elle. “When I was getting samples of that first T-shirt you found, I tested the blood on it. Wasn’t human. I don’t know if that helps you at all. It was all circumstantial anyway.”
“So the blood on EJ’s T-shirt wasn’t human?”
“Correct. I don’t know what animal it came from. The other shirt you found in the Maverty house, that was human blood. It’ll take the lab a couple weeks to test if it’s Jessie Forrester’s. But I’d bet good money it is.” He set the book he was holding on his desk and folded his arms. “You’ve got a theory, don’t you.”
Elle shrugged. “A kind of theory.”
“Care to share?”
She opened and closed the book she was holding a couple of times, collecting her thoughts. “Well, we know Jessie owed a lot of money. It’s unlikely that he would be killed before repaying that money. So we can rule out the people he owed money to. We also know that he was cheating on his wife with a woman named Kitty. It’s possible Kitty could be Kitty Sedona, the wife of Bobby Sedona, an entrepreneur, and I say entrepreneur lightly. Most of his business dealings are suspect. From what I learned, it usually doesn’t end well for the guy who crosses Sedona. I’m guessing he didn’t take kindly to the guy screwing his wife.
“We found a hundred grand at the Maverty house, twenty-five thousand of which was mine. Where’d he get the other seventy-five thousand? Holt suggested Kitty had given it to Jessie. Sedona hires someone to kill Jessie and get his money back.” After coming clean with Neil, she’d paid a visit to Jack. She still wasn’t sure which was worse, Neil’s grumpy disapproval or Jack’s grumpy disappointment.