Fact or Fiction_A Sam Prichard Mystery

by David Archer

  Sam nodded. “Or at least close by,” he said. “I came down here Saturday morning to get my first look at Millie’s house, and a woman who looked a lot like Daisy Willis showed up while I was there. She had the keys to the house and asked me if I wanted to take a look inside, so I did. When I came out, though, she was gone and I didn’t know where to find her. That afternoon, I found out that it might have been Daisy and went looking for her, but someone had dragged her out of her trailer and hustled her into a car sometime before that. A couple hours later, her body was found out north of town. That strikes me as a pretty big coincidence, wouldn’t you think? If she was killed because someone saw her talking to me, and that someone is probably the killer, it would be quite a coincidence if he just happened to be passing through town at the time.”

  Gary nodded slowly and stared at him for several seconds. “Damn big coincidence,” he said. “Sounds to me like your killer had some idea you were coming.”

  14

  Sam shrugged. “I feel the same way, but I can’t think of any way he could have known. Can you?”

  A laugh that sounded almost like a bark came out of Gary Burgess. “Hell, man, I knew you were coming. I mean, I didn’t know a lot about you, but I heard over at Jim’s that there was a private detective digging into the case.”

  “At Jim’s?” Sam asked, but then his eyes opened wide. “Let me guess,” he said. “Marcy Elimon?”

  “Yep. She said there was a private detective stopped in there the other day asking questions and she sent him up to Debbie, and then Debbie called to say he was coming back and wanted to try to prove Ross didn’t do it. I’d imagine that was all over town by Saturday.”

  Sam chewed on his cheek for a second. “I should’ve thought of that,” he said. “I knew that Debbie and Marcy were friends, but I never considered that Debbie might have called her. Any idea how many other people were in there at the time?”

  Gary shrugged. “Maybe a dozen of us at the time, but Marcy would’ve been telling everybody all day long. See, she’s always been sort of a cheerleader for Ross, insisting he couldn’t possibly have done it, the same way I do. Hell, anybody who knew that boy didn’t believe it, but there’s some people in this town that are so stupid they just naturally accept whatever ends up in the newspaper. By the time they got Ross to jail that day, every paper around here was already saying he was guilty. That’s why Debbie and her family ended up moving away.”

  Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, so I heard. Listen, I was told that there were a lot of local boys who used to try to pick on Ross, but that he never lost his temper with anyone. Does that sound true to you?”

  “It not only sounds true, it is true. You know how kids are—anything they don’t understand is something to poke a stick at. Ross was different, so a lot of those little lunkheads would try to pick on him. They call him names, or take something from him and play keep-away, but he never, ever got mad. To be perfectly honest, he laughed right along with them.”

  “Then you never heard of him ever hurting anyone?”

  Gary frowned. “I didn’t quite say that,” he said. “Back when Ross was a kid, and bear in mind this was before my time so I only heard about it, he apparently used to play with kids who were younger than him. I guess a few times, what he considered simple playing around might have banged up a kid here and there, and for a long time people wouldn’t trust him at all. By the time he got into his late teens, though, he had figured out that he had to be more careful, and a lot of that died off. It was just some of the folks around his age around here, kids who got hurt back then, who never really cared for him. Hell, most of the kids that picked on him were their kids.”

  “Things like that are understandable. Ross is autistic, and autistic children don’t have the normal social skills of other kids. He probably never meant to do any harm, but accidents happen.”

  Gary grinned and pointed at Sam. “Give that man a cigar,” he said. “From everything I heard, that’s exactly how it was. Anyway, I started this place up about twenty years ago, and Ross used to just hang around. He didn’t bother anybody and he never got in the way, so I never objected. Then one day, when I was busy doing something else, an old man came in who was just passing through. His car was making a funny noise and he saw the shop and figured he’d ask us to check it out, but he saw Ross standing outside and started talking to him. I didn’t think anything of it until a few minutes later when Ross raised the hood on his car and leaned in over the engine. Well, I figured I’d better go rescue that poor man’s car, so I hurried out there just in time to hear the engine go from spitting and sputtering to purring like a kitten. The distributor cap had popped loose on one side, not enough to kill the engine but enough to make it run rough. Ross took one look under that hood and solved the problem, then just reached in and fixed it.”

  Sam grinned. “I was told he had a knack for mechanical things.”

  “I’ll say. After that, I started trying him out on different little jobs, and he turned out to be a whiz at them. I’ve been doing this more than thirty years, but Ross could listen to an engine with a misfire and tell you exactly which cylinder wasn’t firing, and whether it was because of a foul spark plug or a stuck valve. I’ve never known anyone else who can do that, so after a couple weeks of watching him, I asked him if he wanted a job. He saved me probably half a dozen hours every week trying to figure out what the problem was because he could literally just listen to a car or ride in it and tell me what was wrong with it. In the twelve years he worked here, I don’t think he was ever wrong once.”

  “How did your customers feel about him?” Sam asked.

  Gary rolled his eyes with a grin. “I let Ross do simple jobs by himself, like oil changes and tune-ups and stuff like that, you know? I don’t know how many people told me their cars ran better after he did something to it than it ever did when I worked on it. I think some of them were just saying it to make Ross feel good, but I had a few people that didn’t want anyone but him putting in their spark plugs or changing their oil. And the kids around here, the younger ones in particular, they show up here with their bicycle chains broken or a tire gone flat, and Ross would drop whatever he was doing to help them. He probably patched a hundred bike tires over the years for free, because the kids didn’t have any money. I never complained about it because their parents would come down later and offer to pay, or they were just good customers and I figure I made plenty of money off of them to throw in a free tire patch, you know?”

  “Sure, little things like that bring a shop like yours a lot of goodwill.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” Gary put his feet down and sat forward, leaning his elbows on the desk. “So, tell me the truth. Is there really a chance Ross could get out of prison?”

  “The truth? The truth is I’m not going to stop until that’s exactly what happens.”

  “I’m damn glad to hear it. I think most folks in this town would welcome him back, now. Between Marcy and me, I don’t think there’s too many left to still believe he was guilty, anyway. Maybe Debbie would move back here, and Ross could come back and work for me again. I’d like that.”

  Sam smiled at him. “Maybe,” he said. “But listen, you never answered what I asked a while ago. Do you have any idea who the killer might be?”

  “Me? Now, I wouldn’t even be able to make a guess. As far as I know, everybody around here is just your normal Illinois hillbilly. You got any ideas?”

  Sam’s smile turned into a grimace. “I had a couple of suspects in mind,” he said, “but Daisy’s death has pretty well cleared them. Do you know Jason Garrity?”

  “Sure, I know him. Little bastard ever breaks into my shop again, I’m going to break both of his arms. He broke in about five years ago and sprayed paint all over three of my customers’ cars. Cost me better than two grand to make that right, and all he got was six months of probation.”

  “I’d heard he’s been in some trouble,” Sam said. “The thing is, he’s the only actual witnes
s who saw anything, and he’s convinced that the killer was a woman. His logic and coming to that conclusion is pretty sound, I think, but it turns out there’ve been several other killings just like these scattered all around southern Illinois and parts of Missouri, Indiana, and Kentucky. Millie seems to have been the first victim, but we’re pretty certain that we’re looking at a serial killer. If I remember correctly, Daisy would be the tenth victim.”

  Gary whistled, his eyes big and round. “Are you serious? Holy cow,” he said. “And you think Garrity is right, that it’s a woman?”

  “I think he’s convinced that the person he saw leaving Millie’s place was a woman, and another witness says it was a woman who pushed Daisy into a car and drove off with her on Saturday. It looks for all the world like all of these killings were done by the same perpetrator. While female serial killers are rare, there have been a number of them in America, so it’s not impossible.”

  “Man, that’d make it even harder to guess who it could be. I mean, we’ve got a few crazy ladies in town—every place does—but I can’t imagine any of them being capable of doing something like what happened to Millie Cameron.” He was still sitting with his elbows on the desk, and now he propped his chin on his clasped hands. “You know, I’m just at a loss for words. The thought that we got somebody here in this town who’s capable of doing that sort of thing, and then it seems like it’s a woman? Makes you wonder who you can trust at all, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it does. I’ve seen far too much of what people are actually capable of, and what scares me the most is that many of the people who turn out to be killers seem like normal, everyday folks until they get caught.” He took one of his business cards out of his pocket and passed it over to Gary. “I appreciate your time,” he said, “and I’d appreciate it even more if you give me a call if you think of anything that might help. I’ve been asked to consult on Daisy’s murder, so I’m probably going to be around here for a while.”

  Gary got to his feet and extended a hand, and Sam shook with him. “I’ll be glad to help any way I can. Ross was a little strange, but he ain’t no killer. If I think of anything at all that might help, I’ll be calling.”

  Sam thanked him and got to his feet, then limped his way out to the truck. He started up and backed out, then headed back toward Benton, but the sight of Jim’s Fresh Stop made him turn in and park once more. He walked into the place and was instantly greeted by Crystal, the waitress who had served them a few days before.

  “Mr. Prichard,” the girl said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Everybody is so upset about what happened to Crazy Daisy, and there’s a lot of rumors flying around that it might have been the same person who killed old Mrs. Cameron. Do you know anything about it?”

  There were half a dozen people sitting around the dining room, and all of them were staring at Sam. “Well, the sheriff’s office thinks it’s possible that it’s the work of the same person, and I tend to agree. Is Marcy around?”

  Crystal nodded. “Yeah, she’s in the back. You want anything?”

  Sam pulled a chair out from a table and sat down. “How about some coffee?”

  “Coming right up,” the girl said. “I’ll tell Marcy you’re here.” She disappeared into the back for a moment, then came back and poured a cup of coffee and brought it to Sam. “Here you go, and Marcy says she’ll be right out.”

  Sam picked up the sugar bowl and held it over the cup for a few seconds, then used the spoon Crystal had given him to stir it while he waited. By the time he was finished, Marcy was coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached him. She sat down in the chair across the table and looked at him with a worried expression.

  “So it’s true, then? The same killer got Daisy?”

  “We can’t say for certain, but it looks that way. Marcy, I was just talking to Gary Burgess, and he said that you told him on Friday that I was coming back to town. I’m guessing Debbie called you?”

  “Yeah,” Marcy said, nodding. “Man, I haven’t heard her so excited in years. She says you feel pretty good about the chances of getting Ross out of prison?”

  “I do,” Sam said. “And as sad as it is, Daisy’s murder makes it even more likely. We’ve got a forensic pathologist examining both the bodies, Daisy and Millie’s, to see if the injuries appear to match. If they do, then it’s a safe bet that the same person killed both of them.”

  Marcy shook her head sadly. “I was hoping you’d find something to help Ross,” she said, “but I sure wish it hadn't been something like this. Why in the world would anybody want to hurt Daisy? Sure, she was a little odd, but pretty much everybody in town liked her.”

  “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Sam said. “I went to Millie’s old house on Saturday morning, and a woman I think was Daisy showed up there and said she had the keys if I wanted to look inside. I took them and went in, but by the time I came out she was gone. Now, the funny thing is that she told me her name was Marie, and I understand that Marie was the name of the woman that Debbie gave the keys to when she left town, but that she died sometime back. What strikes me as odd is that it was only probably an hour or so later that someone saw a woman drive up to Daisy’s place and make her get into a car, then drive off with her. Three hours after that, her body was found out north of town. That makes me think the killer had to have been watching the house, expecting me to show up there, and got worried that Daisy might have told me something I wasn’t intended to know.”

  Marcy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God,” she said. “You think the killer was in here and heard me talking about you coming back?”

  Sam nodded. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m thinking. What I’m wondering is if there was anyone in here that might have heard it that you’d be suspicious of?”

  “No, not really. Just local folk, that’s all.” Her mouth stopped halfway to the next word, and she stared at him. “Holy geez, you think the killer is somebody who lives here?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re thinking. The chance that the same killer just happened to be passing through and saw me talking to Daisy at the house is just too big a stretch for the imagination. It almost had to be someone who heard I was coming, whether they heard it from you or from someone else who repeated what you told them. I don’t suppose it would be possible you could tell me the names of everyone who was here on Friday, would it?”

  “Oh, Lordy, probably not. I mean, I could probably make a list of some of them, but there’s times I don’t even come out of the kitchen for hours. Bound to have been different ones in and out that day, and I know Crystal was telling people about it, too.”

  “If the two of you could put your heads together and try to make a list, it might be very helpful. I’m not saying the killer was actually here, but it might give us a place to start in trying to figure out who all knew I was coming.”

  Marcy frowned. “Mr. Prichard, this is a small town. Even if Crystal never told anybody, just the fact I mentioned it a couple of times while folks were in here would mean the whole town would know it by that night. I’d be surprised if you could find someone who hadn’t heard, to be honest.”

  Sam sighed heavily. “Well, that might explain how Daisy happened to show up there that morning. If she had heard I was coming, she might’ve been watching the place herself, especially since she really did have the keys. Debbie thinks that Marie must have given them to her before she died.” He took a sip of his coffee. “The problem is that now we think the killer must’ve been watching, too. Whoever it was saw me talking to Daisy probably started worrying about whether she knew anything that could lead back to them. It was pretty bold, though, to show up at her place in broad daylight and drag her into a car. Unfortunately, the few people who saw it didn’t recognize the car or the woman who was driving it.”

  Marcy narrowed her eyes. “But they saw it was a woman?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes, and I found out from Jason Garrity that the person he saw lea
ving Millie’s backyard the day she was killed was probably also a woman. We’re probably talking about someone who lives here and is well-known, a woman who you’d never suspect of being capable of murder, but we’ve got evidence that potentially connects her to at least eight more killings scattered across this part of the country.”

  “A woman,” Marcy said softly. “That seems so strange. I mean, the way Millie died and now Daisy, it just doesn’t seem like something a woman would do, you know?”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. On the other hand, there have been some pretty brutal and bloody female murderers in the past.”

  “Yeah, I watch all them crime shows, so I know that. The thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a woman who would beat someone to death this way. Have you?”

  “No, I confess I haven’t,” Sam said. “Most female serial killers use poison or a gun, rather than blunt force trauma. Unfortunately, everything I’ve got so far indicates that this one is the exception.”

  Marcy chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Thing about this place, there’s not a lot of women who come in here unless it’s with the husband. This is farm country, so most of our business comes from the farmers and the people that work for them. Mornings especially, we see probably a couple dozen men but hardly ever a woman. They don’t tend to come in until it’s close to lunchtime, and then there’s only a handful who ever come in here alone. Betty Donner, Nancy Jeffries—oh, and Royce Garrity, she comes in now and then.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “You know, Royce and Millie never did get along very well. Don’t know what it was about, but you get them two in a room together and sparks were gonna fly.”

  Sam nodded again. “I heard about that, but Mrs. Garrity had a pretty good alibi for when Millie died. She was actually in the hospital having surgery, the kind of surgery that means you’re not going to be up moving around much for a while. She was still in the hospital when it happened and apparently didn’t get out for a couple of days after.”