Jeff Shelby - Moose River 01 - The Murder Pit

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Jeff Shelby - Moose River 01 - The Murder Pit Page 13

by Jeff Shelby


  “I assume you know about his wife, then?” Elliot asked.

  I nodded. “Helen. Yes. The divorce.”

  Something flashed through his eye. “How much do you know about that?”

  I shrugged. “We didn’t talk much about it on our date. But since the incident…well, I’ve talked to his sister. And to Helen.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Olga told me one thing and Helen sort of sang a different tune, if you know what I mean.” I adjusted my purse strap on my shoulder. “I just…I’d like to know what happened. Seeing as how Olaf was found in my coal chute.”

  Elliot motioned toward the rockers positioned near the wood stove. “Sit,” he ordered. He moved away from the counter and stopped at the table with the coffee carafe. “You want a cup?”

  “Sure,” I said. I sank into one of the rockers and stripped off my jacket. A cup of hot coffee was the last thing I wanted but I didn’t want to jeopardize whatever conversation Elliott was planning to have with me. My face was already flushed from conversation and I was about ten seconds away from roasting to death, now that I was sitting next to the fire.

  He handed me a styrofoam cup and dropped his burly frame into the chair next to me. “Don’t believe a word Helen says.”

  Straight and to the point. I was figuring out already that this was the way Elliott Cornelius was used to communicating.

  “Okay,” I said. I blew on the coffee before taking a sip and it still burned my tongue. “Why is that?”

  He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, seemingly oblivious to the searing temperature. “Because she lies.”

  “You know her well?”

  Elliott nodded. “I know her well enough.”

  “Can you…elaborate?”

  He crossed one leg over the other, his booted foot resting on his knee. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I admitted. “Anything that will help me figure out why Olaf was found in my coal chute. I honestly don’t know a thing about him—well, other than what I knew from our one date a couple of years ago. We didn’t run into each other in town. I’d actually forgotten he lived here.”

  “It’s not that big of a town,” he remarked, his one eye assessing me in that unnerving way he had.

  “I know,” I said. I tried another sip of coffee. “But I just keep to my own people, you know?” I didn’t want to say that my kids didn’t do school and I didn’t do church.

  “I know,” he said, nodding. “I’m a bit of a loner, myself.”

  I smiled, hoping he believed I was a kindred spirit.

  “Alright. Everything.” Elliott sighed and rubbed at his chin. “I guess I’ll just tell you what I know. You can figure out what to do with it.”

  I leaned forward and offered an encouraging smile.

  “Olaf was upfront about what was going on in his personal life. Assured me that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his work here.” He paused. “I appreciated his honesty, told him I was sorry about it. Divorce isn’t fun.”

  I nodded in agreement. It sounded as if Elliott was speaking from experience but I didn’t want to pepper him with more questions.

  “Things were alright for a few months. But it eventually got in the way of his work.”

  “What got in the way?”

  “He started showing up late. Getting phone calls while he was here in the shop.” He grimaced. “Once the divorce was finalized, I thought things might settle down, get back to normal. Olaf was a good employee and he did work that a lot of folks couldn’t handle.”

  I nodded again. I wasn’t sure I knew anyone who would willingly scrape roadkill off the highway, even if it paid well. And, from what Olga had said about Helen riding Olaf’s gravy train, I had to believe that Elliott did compensate him well.

  “But, it didn’t,” he said. With his free hand, he played with the laces on his boot. “There were some quiet months when things were back to normal. But then the phone calls started again. And then the visits.”

  “The visits?”

  “Helen,” he told me. “She started popping in while he was here.”

  “Here in the shop? Why?”

  “At first, it was to bring by papers,” Elliott said, closing his eye in concentration. “Some addendum or something to the divorce. There were a bunch of those. And then she’d swing by with questions about the house; she’d gotten that as part of the divorce settlement. Olaf was polite but distant.” He opened his eye and looked at me. “He was a good man.”

  “It sounds like it,” I said. “So, did she finally get the hint?”

  He was silent for a minute. “Yes.”

  “And so she left? Just decided to leave him alone? Stopped coming by?” This didn’t line up with what Olga had told me. According to Olaf’s sister, persistence was Helen’s middle name.

  “Yes and no,” Elliott said, his expression morphing. He looked uncomfortable, like he was sitting on a bed of nails.

  “I’m not following…”

  He uncrossed his leg and stood up. “That’s all I know.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”

  His mouth twisted into a frown. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth. And I didn’t have to tell you anything.”

  I held up a hand in apology. “I know. I’m sorry.” I swallowed and looked at him. “But if there’s anything else, no matter how small of a detail you might think it is, I’d appreciate it if you could tell me.”

  He looked at me for a long moment. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” he finally muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  He walked over to the table and poured himself more coffee. “I have a soft spot for pretty women.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to this admission so I said nothing, just sat and fidgeted in the rocker and waited for him to return to his seat.

  “Helen stopped coming to see Olaf,” he said, adjusting himself back in his chair. He crossed the other leg on to his lap.

  “Okay.”

  “She started coming to see me.”

  TWENTY SIX

  “You?”

  Elliott nodded.

  Now that was interesting. And weird. “Why?”

  “At first, I thought it was to make Olaf jealous,” he said. He ran his thumb along the rim of his cup. “But then it…changed.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “How?”

  “She kept coming by.” He paused, then cleared his throat. I glanced at him and his ruddy cheeks had taken on a deeper red color. “But she came by to see me.”

  “You?” I repeated, my voice squeaking a little on the single word.

  He nodded. “Hard to believe. But true.”

  “I didn’t mean— ” I began, flustered.

  Elliott held up his free hand. “No need to explain. The women aren’t exactly lining up for me.”

  I thought it would be insulting to argue with his statement, and just as rude to agree, so I simply nodded and kept my mouth shut.

  He took a deep breath, his chest expanding like a balloon, then deflating when he exhaled. “I guess you could say she was flirting with me. Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve played the game but I was young once.”

  “That must’ve been…awkward. For both you and Olaf.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did that cause problems?”

  “For Olaf?” Elliott shook his head. “No.”

  I took a sip of my coffee. It was now lukewarm and I tried not to make a face as I swallowed it down. “For…you?”

  “It was uncomfortable,” he said. “Her attention. Helen can be a bit…forward.”

  I thought back to my encounters with her and what Olga had told me. She was definitely an in-your-face kind of person. I could only guess how she would interact with the opposite sex.

  “Anyway, I nipped it in the bud,” Elliott told me. His ankle bounced on his knee and he kept his gaze fixed on one of the deer
mounted on the wall.

  “Oh? And how did she take that?”

  His cheeks reddened more and he seemed at a loss for words. “Fine. She took it fine.”

  I forced myself to take another sip of coffee. I knew he wasn’t telling me everything. It wasn’t adding up. At the beginning of our conversation, he’d told me Helen was a liar. He’d started out willing to talk, then clammed up. And now he was parceling out bits of information the way I handed out candy to my kids after their Halloween haul.

  “I’m confused,” I said, deciding to throw caution to the wind and voice the thoughts swirling around in my head. “You said at the beginning that Helen was a liar. What exactly did she lie about?”

  Elliott’s ankle stopped. I shifted my gaze to his face and I squinted, trying to focus. I couldn’t be sure but his good eye looked watery, like it had suddenly filled with tears.

  He stood up. “I’ve told you all I know.” He rubbed at his good eye. “Damn allergies.”

  I was clearly being dismissed. I had no choice but to stand, too. Elliott reached out and took my half-empty cup of coffee.

  I glanced out the window of the taxidermy shop. It had started to snow, fluffy white flakes that clumped together as they fluttered to the ground. I dug my gloves out of my purse and put them on.

  I looked at Elliott. “Thank you. For taking the time to talk with me.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “You’re welcome, ma’am.” He paused. “And I’m real sorry about what happened to Olaf. Real sorry.”

  TWENTY SEVEN

  Jake held up his beer. “I’m drawing the line at stuffing that little hamster you forced on me.”

  We were sitting at the local sports grill and pub. Without kids. As much as we loved our brood, a weekly date night was a must, even if it only consisted of eating hamburgers and drinking a beer at The Penalty Box. We were halfway through our meal and I’d just finished telling him about my conversation with Elliott Cornelius.

  “That thing is going in the trash when it’s done,” he said, referring to the hamster now affectionately known as Lucky.

  “Yeah, let’s see how tough you are when the girls are crying their eyes out over it.”

  “I will hold strong.”

  “Right,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, that was how I spent the afternoon.”

  He took a massive bite of his burger, a big mess of meat, cheese, bacon and peanut butter. I was convinced they kept it on the menu just because he came in once a week and ordered it.

  He wiped at his mouth. “Good to know you had a productive day.”

  I took a swallow of my beer. “Look, I told you I was going to poke around.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “And that’s all I did.”

  He eyed me over the table. “So what’s next?”

  “What do you mean?”

  A corner of his mouth raised up in a knowing smile. “You can’t convince me for one second that just because you had a conversation with the taxidermist that you’re now going to leave all of this alone. Like you should.”

  I decided to avoid answering that question directly. “Speaking of the taxidermist, how does he know you?”

  Jake shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Well, he seemed like he was ready to throw me out of the shop but as soon as I mentioned your name, he backed off.”

  “Don’t say I never save you from anything.” His eyes lit up with amusement. “See? I protect you even when we’re not physically together. I’m like a superhero.”

  I frowned. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

  “No,” he said. “We probably had a booth near each other at the fair. Or some expo.” Even though Jake wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations of the plant, he was personable and friendly and, because of this, did a lot of the community outreach events.

  I picked up a french fry and dragged it through the puddle of ketchup on my plate. “I still think it’s odd.”

  “You acting like a private eye?” He nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”

  I ignored him. “And the way he said he was sorry when I left. It was like he was sorry about more than Olaf being dead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like he’d done it or something.”

  “So now you think Elliott the animal stuffer killed Olaf?” he asked. “Why would he do it?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “But it was strange how he stopped talking about Helen and then said he was sorry. Almost like he’d done something.”

  “And it’s almost like you’ve lost your mind.”

  I rolled my eyes and changed directions. “Want to know something else that’s weird? That Helen would tell me one thing, but everyone else says it was the other way around. That’s weird.”

  He shoved more burger into his mouth. “Who’s Helen?”

  “Were you even listening?”

  He washed down the burger with more beer and then laughed. “Do I think it’s odd that his ex-wife lied? No, not really.”

  “Why not?”

  He wiped at his mouth again, twisted in his chair, and stretched out his legs. “I don’t know. Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she still loved him. Maybe she didn’t want people to know their marriage was failing.” He shrugged. “We’ve both been through that to a different degree, right? It’s not the easiest thing in the world to tell people that you’re getting divorced.”

  He was right about that. As ready as I was to divorce Thornton, it was still a weird thing to admit to people. It felt like I’d been lying to my family and friends for years and I was suddenly coming clean. My unhappiness with my first marriage was private, not something I shared with the world. Most of my friends were surprised that we were getting a divorce. When it all happened and came to fruition, I was thrilled and felt free, but it still didn’t really feel like something to celebrate and share with other people.

  I picked up another french fry and pointed it him. “Okay. Point taken. But how about her showing up at the library? Even if I chalk up her being at the plant as a coincidence, finding me at the library and lying to me about working there is totally weird, right?”

  He finished the last bite of his burger and wiped his hands on his napkin. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. I don’t have an explanation for that.”

  “So she’s lying about something,” I said, satisfied that I’d at least got him to admit I was right about something. “That is odd.”

  Jake picked up his beer and begrudgingly nodded. “Yeah, hard for me to argue that.”

  I smiled at him. “See? I’m not completely full of crap.”

  He smiled back. “Not completely, no.”

  I wadded up my napkin with the intent on throwing at him but stopped myself when I saw Detective Priscilla Hanborn making her way toward us.

  Her blindingly white crew cut was standing at attention on top of her wide, flat head. She wore a long-sleeved, white dress shirt with a black bolo tie and gray denims jeans. Pointy black boots stuck out from the bottom of the jeans and instantly brought up visions of the Wicked Witch.

  She tried to smile but it came off as more of a wince. “Evening, ma’am.” She looked at Jake. “Sir.”

  Jake smiled at her. “Hello, Detective.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt your dinner,” she said, pulling up a chair from the table across from us and sitting down. “But I’m wondering if we could chat for just a minute?”

  Jake raised an amused eyebrow at me.

  “Sure,” I said, dragging out the word. It appeared to be the only thing I could say since she didn’t seem to be giving us any other choice.

  She set her elbows on the table and folded her hands together. “I understand you’ve been doing a little…investigating around town.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Investigating? I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

  “What would you call it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “Well, I just—”

  She frowned at
me. “Ma’am, I’m sure you’re curious about a lot of things. But you shouldn’t be running around Moose River, pretending to be a police officer. I went through a lot of training to learn how to do my job and I don’t remember seeing you in any of my training classes.”

  Now my cheeks felt like they’d been lit on fire. “I haven’t been pretending to be anything.”

  She raised an eyebrow and ran a hand over the top of her flat top. “Right. Look, I can imagine how you might be a little bored at home and how—”

  “Now, wait a minute!”

  “—it must be kind of fun to get out and play cops and robbers or whatever you’d like to call it,” she continued. “But getting in fights with people and going around and questioning everyone you meet is not a good idea. And I can’t have you getting in the way of my investigation.”

  Jake leaned forward. “I don’t think anyone is getting in the way of your investigation.”

  I could tell by his body language—shoulders up, brow furrowed, lack of a smile—that while he may have disagreed with what I’d been doing, he wasn’t terribly happy to have Detective Priscilla Hanborn interrupting our dinner and reprimanding me.

  Which made me love him all the more.

  “Not yet,” Hanborn said, shooting him a look. “But that’s the way we seem to be going and I’d like to put a stop to it.” She looked back at me. “Right now.”

  “So, what exactly have you learned so far?” I asked, doing my best to not wrestle her to the ground like I had with Olga.

  She looked down her nose at me. “That really isn’t any of your business.”

  “It’s not? The body was in my house. I think it’s absolutely our business.”

  “The crime committed wasn’t against you,” she said, shrugging. “Therefore you don’t really have a vested interest.”

  “I have a vested interest because that man was found in my home,” I said, my voice firm. “And because everyone in town knows he was found there and it’s affecting my kids and my family. So don’t tell me it’s not any of my business.”

  She gave me a hard stare, one I’m sure she saved for all of the dangerous criminals that she rounded up in Moose River on a daily basis. I managed to not wither and run away in fear.

 

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