by Vella Day
“He told me that given I’d been shot, he wanted to see if he could help with the investigation. He let me know that he’d been with the MP’s in the service and thought he could lend a hand.”
“Sounds like a reasonable request, although in truth, he probably just wanted a chance to get in your pants,” Dax mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
There he went again, thinking out loud. “Sorry. What did you tell him?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, which didn’t bode well for him. Between her scowl and pursed lips, she looked as if she was about to tell him to fuck off but then thought better of it. “I told him you and I had everything under control.”
Relieved he didn’t have to deal with seeing Brian with Jessie every day, Dax leaned back against his seat. “Good.” From the way her gaze bounced from her hands to the other customers, she was hiding something. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She grimaced. “You see, of all the people from school, Brian was the most gung ho about the service, and he couldn’t wait to get away from Kerry. He even falsified records to get his then sixteen-year-old brother into the Army. Brian had almost finished his second tour of duty when his brother was killed, and Brian claimed it was his fault for convincing Jimmy to enlist.”
“And the purpose of this story is?” He wasn’t interested in the life of her former lover.
“I’m getting to the point. After the funeral, Brian re-upped again. When he came back here last week he told me he was no longer in the service.”
“So? I did two tours, and then left.”
“Yeah, but I figured you left because of your leg injury.”
“True. Go on.”
“Once he left the office, I ran a check on him.”
Lena rushed over. “I’m so sorry to keep you two waiting. It’s been so crazy around here with the new cement plant hiring right and left. Our business is booming big time. Now what can I get you?”
Dax would have liked to have heard the rest of Jessie’s story, but they did have to order. Not wanting to take the time to pour over the menu, he ordered something he knew they’d have. “A hamburger, medium rare, and a Coke.”
“Me too, only I want an unsweetened iced tea,” Jessie said.
“Fries with that order and everything on top?” Lena’s hand hovered over her pad.
“Sure,” they said in unison. Jessie smiled and he felt that rush of hormones run through him again.
“Got it.” Lena hustled off, and Dax motioned for Jessie to continue.
“Well, I got to wondering why Brian had returned to Kerry. His father died his senior year in high school, his mom took her life after her youngest son was killed, and her oldest son, George, left town. There was nothing here for him, so I checked Brian out with the National Criminal Database and guess what I found?”
“What?” Dax tapped the spoon on the table.
“Don’t be so impatient. Brian was arrested for stealing automatic weapons! Can you believe it? He didn’t come back to Kerry any sooner because he was in jail.”
Dax whistled and dropped the spoon on the table. “Are you thinking he had something to do with the murders?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying that someone who was with the MP’s would know how to shoot, don’t you think?”
“Certainly seems likely. Do you believe Brian shot you?”
Before she could answer, someone cleared his throat.
Jessie looked up and her face paled. “Mayor Kreplick.”
Dax had to admit the Mayor looked quite different fully clothed. The image of the married man and the bank president in bed had turned his stomach. Cheating on a spouse was wrong, at least in his world it was.
“What can I d-do for yo-you?” Jessie asked.
The Mayor motioned toward the empty seat next to Dax. “May I? I won’t take up much of your time.”
Dax scooted over as far as he could, watching as a flash of fear crossed Jessie’s face. This mayor held her whole life hostage, and that pissed him off.
“I wanted to know what you’re doing to find Clinton’s killer.” He directed his comment only to Jessie.
Ah, the sixty-four thousand dollar question, though without the body, they couldn’t be positive he was dead. Would she say she thought the Mayor, himself, had killed the man? She should claim she needed more time to prove it, but when Jessie opened her mouth, not a word came out.
Dax leaned forward on his elbows. “We have nothing, Mr. Mayor. Not a clue. And even if we did, we wouldn’t be at liberty to divulge the information. It’s a confidentiality thing. You must run into that all the time in your position.”
Jessie looked at him as though he’d saved her, and a spurt of happiness shot through him.
“And who the hell do you think you are? I asked Ms. Nash.”
Dax laughed. “And I’m answering.” Bob Kreplick turned four shades of unhealthy pink. “Listen, when and if we find the killer, we promise you’ll be the first to know.”
Bob Kreplick jumped out of the booth and nearly knocked down Lena taking an order at the next table. He straightened his tie and brushed off the seat of his pants as if sitting with them had given him a disease. Asshole.
Mayor Kreplick turned to Jessie. “Having him around,” he nodded to Dax, “changes nothing. You have less than three weeks to clean up this town or you’re out of here.”
“You said that I’d be deputy if—”
The Mayor lifted his nose in the air. “I recall no such discussion. Good day, Ms. Nash.”
What an arrogant prick. The bell rang above the door, and as soon as Kreplick disappeared down the street, the noise level in the restaurant returned to normal, implying the whole place had been listening to the embarrassing exchange.
She glanced up at him, looking as though she’d lost her best friend. “Can he really threaten me like that?” She wrung her hands together.
His strong urge to reach across the table and take her hand surprised him. If he touched her, though, he might not stop at her hands. “The man’s scared. He’ll say anything to take the heat off himself.”
“You think so?”
“Hell, yes.”
Before he could calm her fears, Lena rushed back with their food, a bit out of breath. “So the big man came to talk. What did he want?” The gossip queen was practically drooling. From what Jessie had said, it was tell Lena, tell the town.
“He just wanted an update on the cases,” Jessie said in a remarkably calm voice.
“Did you tell him?” Given the fact Lena was standing less than five feet away pouring one cup of coffee for five minutes, she must have heard nearly the whole damned conversation.
Jessie leaned forward and smiled ever so sweetly. “So, tell me about this new beau of yours.”
Lena placed their food on the table, and the aroma from the juicy hamburger made his mouth salivate, but he waited for Lena to finish before he dug in.
Their waitress didn’t seem to pick up on the change of topic, and if she did, she didn’t let on. “He’s divine. Seth is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.” She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes for a moment, and then let out a long sigh.
“What about Kevin?” Jessie turned to Dax. “That’s Lena’s husband.”
His jaw clenched. He hadn’t been aware Lena was cheating on her husband with that Seth guy.
“That’s the best part,” Lena said, “I received the divorce papers this morning.” She glowed. “We’re finished, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“That was a fast divorce.” Jessie turned to Dax. “Her hubby enjoyed using Lena as a punching bag.” She grabbed Lena’s hand. “I’m glad he’s out of your life.”
In that case, good for her. Spousal abuse was the lowest form of pond scum, only slightly above murder.
“I wish you luck with Seth,” Jessie said.
“Hey, Lena,” Bill Peters shouted from across the restaurant.
“I gotta go,” Lena said, still beaming. Sh
e scurried off to take care of her customer.
“You do have some characters in this town,” Dax said.
“That’s an understatement.” She bit into her hamburger. “Mmm.” Juice ran down her hands and she wiped away the liquid before it got on her ever-delicious dress. “So what’s our next step?”
“You never answered me if you thought Brian could have shot you.”
She finished chewing then wiped her mouth with the napkin. “I would have said absolutely no way before I checked his record. Now I’m not so sure.”
“I say it’s time we check out Clinton’s place.”
She took a sip of her ice tea. “Amanda already did.”
“I know, but you said you found receipts for some big-ticket items, and I’d like to see if he has any other expensive items in his house that could add to the circumstantial evidence we have against the Mayor.”
Jessie estimated Clinton’s two-bedroom home to be no more than a thousand square feet. It had a small living room, a cramped dining room, and one bathroom, but a surprisingly spacious kitchen. From the looks of the ratty furniture, she wouldn’t have guessed the man was on the take.
She spotted an old film camera on top of dining room table that had been missing from the office. She turned to Dax. “You know what I find strange?”
Dax was sifting through some papers on Clinton’s desk. “What?”
“Clinton harped on never keeping anything at home that belonged to the police department. He said that even though we didn’t have much crime in Kerry, we should keep everything at the office. And a rule was a rule, he’d say. Does that make any sense? I’m babbling, I know. The medication must be screwing with my thought processes.”
“I totally understand. I was happy the digital camera was in the office the night you found out Clinton was supposedly dead.”
She appreciated he believed Clinton might still be alive. “So why do you think this film one is here?”
Dax stopped searching and faced her. “I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t return it because he got killed?”
She pointed a crutch at him, not liking how he suddenly changed his mind about her boss. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you. I know I’m not as smart as you, but you don’t have to be—”
He jumped up from behind the desk and rushed over to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get testy.” He rubbed her arms in a gentle, caring way, and her anger diffused as other body parts turned traitor. “It’s just that I’m used to handling one crime at a time, not five.”
Her mind raced. “Five?”
“The fifth being the crime against you.” He nodded to her leg. Dax stepped back then stabbed a hand through his hair before straightening the mess he’d made on the desk.
“I’m betting if we find one criminal, we may have ’em all,” she said.
Dax turned, and when he hooked his thumbs in his pockets, sex appeal leaked off him.
“Brian had no reason to kill the sheriff,” he said. “He just arrived in town.”
“True.”
“Okay, let’s assume Brian’s innocent of this crime. Could the Mayor have killed Sadie and the sheriff, robbed a store, a gas station, and then shot you?”
Her calf was throbbing, forcing her to sit at the table. “When you put it like that, no. Kreplick and Sadie got along okay, and I always thought he and Clinton were close. Shows what I know.”
“Do you know if the Mayor had been some kind of sharp shooter in the day?”
Jessie leaned her head against the back of the chair. “Anything but. He loved hunting, but I don’t think he ever bagged a deer in his life.”
“Then let’s dig deeper. For now, we’ll keep both the Mayor and Brian on our list.”
She hated not knowing which way to turn. “Fine. I’ll start with Clinton’s bedroom.”
“Okay.”
Despite not knowing what she should be looking for, Jessie searched her boss’s closets and drawers. She rubbed her upset stomach. Not only did the house have that nobody’s-been-in-there smell, digging into her boss’s personal effects was plain wrong. Nonetheless, she kept going.
After the twenty-minute search turned up nothing, she returned to the living room. “I can’t find anything to link Clinton with blackmail—other than the pictures of the two men.”
“Which we aren’t even sure he took.”
She hadn’t thought of that angle. “Are you thinking someone showed the pictures to him for kicks, and Clinton confiscated the offending photos then tossed them in his side drawer for safe keeping?”
“It’s possible. As long as we’re guessing, either the Mayor’s wife or Lucas’s wife could have taken the pictures. Maybe they wanted Clinton to do something about the affair.”
“Now that’s something I would have never thought of.”
He tapped the side of his head and smiled. “Work as a private investigator long enough and you see all sorts of sordid shit going on.”
Jessie was glad she didn’t work in a big city. The small town of Kerry suited her fine.
Dax picked up a trophy and studied the label. “Clinton used to ride in a rodeo?”
“Can you believe it?”
He put the object back down. “Did you find any suitcases in his bedroom?”
“Yes, why?”
“If none of his luggage had been there, I might have concluded he’d skipped town along with the theoretical blackmail money.”
“You know, for a city boy, you’re on the ball.” Dax flashed her a megawatt smile and her heart pinged.
“Thanks.”
She had to chuckle at his antics. The experts were right when they claimed laughter was the best antidote to depression. Jessie hobbled over to the sofa to rest her leg. “Speaking of skipping town, where do you suppose Clinton stashed his car?”
Dax’s eyes widened, seemingly impressed with her observation. “It’s not at the mine, the cement plant, here, or at the office. Maybe if we find it, we’ll find Clinton.”
“Do you think I should check every garage in town?”
He shook his head. “A killer wouldn’t be that stupid.”
“I should do a search of Kreplick’s and Lucas’s garages though. The arrogant S.O.B.s might think we’d never suspect either of them.”
“By all means, check them out, but from personal experience, I think if either of them killed Clinton, he would have driven the car to a remote site and dumped the vehicle, hoping no one would notice Clinton’s cruiser was missing for a while.”
“Hard to hide a police vehicle.”
“Good point.” He held up a finger. “Oh, while you were in the bedroom, I looked out back but didn’t find a lawn tractor.”
“I didn’t expect one.” She looked around. “We didn’t find a big screen TV in here either.”
“Maybe his new purchases haven’t been delivered yet.”
“It’s a possibility. I’ll check the date on the receipts when we get back to the office.”
Dax shuffled back to Clinton’s desk and looked through his Out box. “Do you think you could get access to his bank account?”
Jessie stood and swung over to where Dax was searching. “Are you thinking we might find a few large deposits?”
He looked up at her and studied her. “Yes.”
Dax was like her kryptonite. Every time she neared, some internal change occurred, and she wasn’t sure if that was good for her.
“It’s w-worth a try, but I’m beginning to think Clinton was clean.” God, she hated to stutter, but every time she became nervous—which she was right now—she couldn’t form her words right.
“Given the bank president has a good reason to stall, we might run into some resistance. Even if we could get a warrant, which at the moment looks doubtful due to lack of evidence, he might falsify the information.”
“Damn. I mean darn. This case is getting more complicated by the minute.”
“Murder cases usually do.”
Depression gave her a qui
ck jab in the gut. “I guess I don’t want to believe the man who mentored me would be capable of doing something so deceitful.”
Dax nodded in sympathy. “Maybe he didn’t. Stay put while I do one final check in the kitchen.”
Jessie didn’t object. She sat down in Clinton’s chair and studied the dining room and living area. The refrigerator banged shut and the cabinet doors opened and closed.
He came back out with a hand on his hip. “If the man was blackmailing someone, he didn’t have much in the way of food or expensive tastes. Hell, if I’d come into money, I’d have a freezer full of filet mignon and a liquor cabinet stocked with Chivas Regal.”
“So what are you saying?”
“If he didn’t take the photos himself and use them as blackmail, maybe someone planted the photos in Clinton’s drawer or, as you said, he was merely the holder of the offensive pictures.”
“If someone did plant them, we’re back to square one unless we can think who would benefit from trying to misdirect us.”
Dax’s laugh held no humor. “Oh, I know who’d benefit.”
“Who?”
“The killer.”
After an unsuccessful search at Clinton’s house, Dax and Jessie drove back to the office where she placed a call to Mr. Catchman, the mine owner, hoping he’d give them permission to search his land. Those drag marks didn’t get there by accident, though she didn’t really expect to find anything inside the closed down mine either, but it never hurt to cover all of her bases.
Dax sat at Clinton’s office desk looking for something while she tapped her pencil on her desk. “Answer, dammit.”
Dax looked up at her and she slumped against the seat. She forgot that ladies didn’t swear. She pulled the V-neck closer together. Women wearing hooker dresses weren’t fit to investigate crimes. Amanda should be shot.
“This is Wayne Catchman.”
“Mr. Catchman.”
“I am out of town until November fifth. Please leave a message at the beep.”
Jessie hated messages, but she asked him to call her back the moment he was able. She’d just hung up when her phone rang. Man that was fast.
“Sheriff Nash.” She liked the sound of her new title.