Death of a Dumb Bunny

by Melanie Jackson

  David’s office is located in an historic building that is a lot classier than he is. It also has a great heating system and I felt like I had walked into a furnace after being outdoors. I pulled off my knit cap and unbuttoned my coat. Easter was over and I had ditched my giant bonnet in favor of more practical headgear.

  Thinking of my bonnet brought to mind my grandma’s dress and the annoying thought that I was going to need to wash and iron it again before I stored it away.

  “Hey, Chloe.”

  “Hey, Mary.”

  “I expected you this morning since the— well, you know.” Mary was glad to see me for my own sake, but being bright and plugged into the information grapevine, she knew that there had been a suspicious death and that I wanted to know about the Brookes estate. There was nothing about or from Brutus himself, since he lived somewhere else and had his own attorney, but Mary had an unsigned copy of Thaddeus’s new will waiting on her desk. I saw at a glance that David would have to change it again. Brutus Brookes, the proposed beneficiary, was dead. No one else except charities were named and I couldn’t see the community garden or the seniors meal program sending someone to kill Thaddeus.

  Mary came back in with two mugs of coffee.

  “Is that what you needed?” she asked.

  “I always need coffee,” I said. Then, abandoning indirection and tact, I asked about Thaddeus’s divorce. I wanted the when and why.

  “This is all we have on file,” Mary said regretfully. “The old records aren’t on the computer. And it was before my time so I don’t recall the details of the divorce. Just that there was a huge scandal when he dumped her at the bus station with a mountain of suitcases. Do you think it’s important?”

  Did I? Or was I just curious because this woman had provoked so much anger and distaste in her neighbors.

  “Maybe. See what you can find without getting into trouble.”

  “Okay.”

  “Shall I bribe you with banana bread?” I asked. Mary doesn’t bake.

  “Yes, please.” Then her smile faded. “They are saying that it was a hunting accident, but it isn’t really an accident. Is it?”

  “No.”

  “And someone killed Thaddeus’s cousin by mistake, thinking it was him? Thaddeus, I mean.”

  Like I said, Mary is bright.

  “I think so, but don’t spread it around.”

  “But who would want to kill the Easter Bunny?” Mary asked. “That’s— that’s just so wrong.”

  “I don’t know, but I am doing my best to find out before they try again.”

  I left after that and got back on my route, handing out a few parking tickets on my way to the Morningside Inn. There are two places to stay in Hope Falls, a slightly rundown motor court and the Morningside Inn. The choice of a traveler’s home away from home was usually dictated by economics. The inn was not an inexpensive place to stay.

  Maybe I was stretching, but a hunting bow seemed like a wealthy person’s weapon.

  The inn’s parking lot was half-empty since many of the Easter revelers were returning home, but again I saw the black Escalade, which must have broken some speed limits to beat me to the inn, and I decided to scratch the itch that had been with me since Good Friday.

  “So, I keep thinking about the bumper-sticker on the Golightly’s Escalade,” I said when Alex picked up the phone. I had told him about Mr. Jackman’s unusually harsh comments.

  “I’ll look into it,” Alex promised. He sounded distracted and that meant he was working. “Want to meet for lunch?”

  “Okay. Bring Blue to Courthouse Park around one and I’ll pick up sandwiches for a picnic. The rain really is letting up now.”

  We were interrupted with a meow. Alex had me on speaker phone and this always confused Apollo.

  “Hi, kitty,” I said.

  “By the way, Aphrodite caught a mouse on the porch,” Alex sounded amused.

  “Yes?”

  “And brought it inside to share with Apollo.”

  “Oh dear.” I started to laugh. Apollo doesn’t like mice. He tends to screech and jump on chairs to avoid them.

  “I opened the door and shooed it out again before Aphrodite could eat it. It disappeared into a hole in the bank at the side of the yard.”

  “Good. I really don’t like the idea of cuddling someone with mouse breath.”

  “Or comforting one with advanced rodent complex.”

  “That either.”

  “Okay. See you at one. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said and then hung up.

  I reluctantly left my vehicle and was almost to the door of the inn when my phone rang. It was The Chief. He needed me out on Fellows Road behind the college. There had been an attempt on Principal Andrews’ life. He was alive, but was on the way to the hospital to have an arrow removed from his buttocks.

  “On my way. Let me call Alex and cancel lunch.”

  The Chief grunted.

  Did we have a serial killer lose in Hope Falls? Or was this a copy-cat?

  One thing, the black Escalade couldn’t have been used by the archer. Not this time.

  Chapter 8

  The college isn’t far out of town but it is tricky to access because of all the one way roads that wind steeply up the wooded mountain, touching only a few perimeter buildings. The campus offered fantastic views of the woods and Falls and usually had empty parking lots at the top because it was easier to navigate the trails on foot, especially when paved roads were icy.

  My official vehicle runs on batteries and hates hills in the cold, so I parked in a lower lot and hit the nearest staircase. I would be winded before long, but I wanted to see the crime scene before the drizzle damaged too much evidence.

  I passed the physical education building on the third flight of stairs. The college had an archery range beyond the basketball courts. I still didn’t believe that anyone local would kill our Easter Bunny, but since I was there I would check and see who was taking an archery class this semester. The college didn’t loan out equipment and didn’t have hunting bows in any case, but maybe someone from out of town had been using the range for practice. Everyone had to sign in before they were allowed in to the enclosure. My friend, Terri Forman, worked in the athletic department. She would let me see the roster for the range. It was a longshot, but crimes wouldn’t get solved if all we did was look at the sexy solutions. Sometimes, criminals were stupid and did the obvious thing.

  There wasn’t much to see at the scene, just disturbed pine needles and some mud and a little blood. But I had The Chief show me where Andrews had been laying and I found a woman’s shoe prints half-overlapping what I assumed were Principal Andrews dress shoe imprints.

  “Did Andrews have any lipstick on his face?” I asked The Chief.

  “Um… the paramedic mentioned that there was some strange redness around his mouth.”

  “And was he in a state of undress?”

  “The arrow had somehow miraculously missed penetrating his slacks,” the Chief admitted.

  “Nadine Watts,” I said and The Chief blinked.

  “Councilwoman Watts shot Principal Andrews?”

  “No, Nadine Watts was kissing Principal Andrews. And I am betting that we will find that his wife is taking an archery class and was perhaps expressing her disapproval of her husband’s lunchtime activities.”

  “Damn. So this has nothing to do with our Easter killer?”

  “I don’t think so. Not that this won’t get ugly too if it comes out.” I walked toward the archery range and found a nice stand of well-placed shrubbery, a quick look showed the fresh impression of a woman’s athletic shoes.

  “Yeah,” The Chief agreed. His relationship with the town council was often adversarial and they would protect one of their own, even if they personally despised her. “And so?”

  “Let me call Terri Forman and make sure that I’m right about this. Then we need to decide what to do about it.”

  “We have choices?” The
Chief asked as I took out my phone.

  “Well, I do. You will have to leave it to me so you can use the whole plausible deniability thing if asked. I think I’ll tell my Dad about it though. He needs to be in the loop in case it comes to a fight. Something has to be done about Councilwoman Watts. This isn’t the first marriage she has interfered with.”

  The Chief looked fascinated.

  “We won’t be arresting Mrs. Andrews for shooting her husband?”

  “Not unless we run out of other options…. Hi, Terri. It’s Chloe Boston. Can you do me a favor? I’m meeting Marnie Andrews for lunch, but I can’t recall if she said she was taking archery or swimming this semester. Can you check which building she’s in? Thanks.” The confirmation was quick. “So she should be done with class now? Great. Thanks again.”

  I looked at The Chief.

  “I’m going to call Marnie Andrews now and ask her to come to the station. You may want to make yourself scarce and call off Bryce, if you haven’t already.”

  The Chief shook his head but walked away.

  * * *

  “Sit down, Mrs. Andrews,” The Chief said sternly as he opened the door to the interrogation room. “Officer Boston is going to have a little chat with you. Depending on the outcome, I may be seeing you later.”

  The Chief left the room closing the door behind him. I was betting that the intercom was on and he was listening. But as long as I didn’t know that for fact, then I could also deny that he had any knowledge of what I was about to do.

  “Here’s the thing,” I said, looking into Marnie Andrew’s frightened but defiant eyes. “We know that you shot your husband this afternoon out at the college. Nice effort, trying to blame this on the Easter hunter, but the real killer uses different arrows and a different M.O.. I’m afraid we were never fooled, if that was your intention.”

  She looked away. I think that my reference to the Easter killing had startled her. Whatever had been on her mind that afternoon, it wasn’t a copycat killing.

  “We also know that he deserved to be shot. Believe me, I sympathize completely. Ask anyone around here. They’ll tell you my story and how I take a dim view of cheaters. But murder is out of the question. Your husband’s or Mrs. Watts’. Homicide isn’t the way to fit in to a new community. We have standards. What would your mother say if she knew about this? Or Father McIlhenny?”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks but still she said nothing.

  “Your options, as I see them, are to suffer in silence while your husband goes on his merry way, go for marriage counseling, or divorce the cheating bastard. Or all of the above, along with public scandal and ridicule for your husband, since you are the wronged party and most everyone would be sympathetic as long as they don’t know you shot him.” Actually, this public ridicule was coming whether she wanted it or not. Word was out about Principal Andrews and Mrs. Watts having an affair. A quick call to my mother on the way back to the station confirmed this. “But if you can’t see your way to being reasonable then we’ll arrest you and charge you with attempted murder instead. The choice is yours.”

  “You aren’t going to arrest me?” she asked, blinking hard. “Really?”

  I shoved the Kleenex box closer. We were going to need it.

  “It’s why The Chief has left the room. Officially, he has no knowledge of what happened today. We’re giving you a chance to do the right thing. You are being offered a do-over. Personally, I would take it.”

  “Thank you!” she said fervently, beginning to cry in earnest. “I didn’t mean to kill him, I swear. I was out doing archery practice for my class and I saw him walk by with that—that— and they were—” She gulped. “And I followed them. I was going to shoot next to him to give him a scare, but I’m not very good yet and his naked butt—”

  “—was a natural attractant for an angry arrow.” I pulled out several tissues and put them in her hand. “Wipe your eyes. I believe you about it being an accident. Or, at least not premeditated. But I think it might be best if you left your bow and arrows here for the rest of the week. You can use the ones at the college for your class if you mean to go on.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I couldn’t touch them again anyway. And I dropped the class already. I went straight to the enrollment office and filled out a drop slip. I don’t think archery is for me.”

  I nodded, hoping she didn’t take up skeet shooting instead.

  “Okay, here is the drill. Right now, my father, the Mayor, is at the hospital having a talk with your husband about his close call and how this story might look in the paper. He will also be speaking to Mrs. Watts. This affair ends or it goes public at the council meeting.” Her eyes got big at my words. “We can’t get into her sex life, but Mrs. Watts used her influence to get your husband his job. That’s corruption. We won’t stand for it.” Mostly because it wasn’t working. Mr. Andrews was a lousy principal and no one respected him.

  “That’s— that’s wonderful! Everyone says your dad is the best, most caring mayor ever, and I believe it. I’ve never heard of anyone being so hands-on.”

  I nodded. It was kind of wonderful that Dad and The Chief were willing to intervene personally to keep this woman from jail, but I wished like anything that it hadn’t happened. We might not be breaking the law by not charging her, since we had no hard evidence of her crime and I deliberately hadn’t Mirandized Marnie before her confession so it was inadmissible anyway, but we were bending the heck out of it. I just hoped we were all flexible enough to live with the consequences if she got fed up again and did something a lot more permanent to her rotten spouse.

  And in the meantime, I still had a killer to catch, and I needed to do it before someone else died.

  “Do you need the name of a counselor or divorce lawyer?” I asked.

  “I thought I would talk to Father McIlhenny first,” she said. “He seems very nice.”

  “He’s a good choice,” I agreed. “And he can help you with any contacts you might need later.”

  I stood up. Marnie bounced up and startled me with a hug, which I barely managed to return.

  “Drive carefully,” I said, which was maybe dumb, but I needed to say something to end this interview. It was time for Marnie to leave and for me to eat some lunch and think. I also really needed a normal hug from Alex and some time with Blue. This afternoon had left me feeling angry and fatigued.

  The Chief came in when Marnie was gone.

  “I hope we’re doing the right thing,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  I remembered that Blue was out of her tablets. We feed Blue a special supplement for her joints. It costs more than dinner for two with wine and dessert, so I don’t like to leave it sitting around in my cart, in case some health-conscious canine with sticky paws comes along. I had meant to go by the vet’s after lunch but the whole shooting thing at the college had distracted me. Dr. Mumm closes at three every other day so I had to hurry. Hunger would have to wait to be appeased.

  A car honked at Mrs. Jarvis as she stepped off the curb in front of the station. She gave it the evil eye as it roared by. From time to time we get tourists who drive with their horn instead of their steering wheel or brakes. Robert Golightly was one of these. I really needed to find a reason to give him a ticket. Maybe a smashed headlight. Those can happen most unexpectedly and the fine is steep.

  My second stop of the afternoon was to pick up a pizza. The Chief had given me the rest of the day off and I was going home to rest and eat. Parking fines would be down again this week, but I was very tired and hungry, two things that interfered with clear thinking.

  I was making salad while Alex set the table when I noticed our feathered pen was missing again.

  We keep pen and paper on the counter by the phone. The pen, a gift from my mom, often goes missing. Blue isn’t interested in pens and Aphrodite is too lazy to chase them. That leaves Apollo as chief culprit when the pen disappears.

  Sighing, I dropped to my knees to
remove the grill thing from the front of the refrigerator. Apollo, in addition to being scared of mice, is also concerned about the monster that lives under the refrigerator and won’t fetch anything that disappears in the shadows behind the grill. It has become a graveyard for old toys.

  “If you swat it under here, the least you could do is get it out again. Your paws are smaller than my hands.” I got a stare of innocence from my cat as I scolded.

  I think sometimes the cats are jealous that Blue gets to go to work with me and they get into mischief in revenge. But what can I do? They hate cars and have a tendency to leap at birds even when the vehicle is moving. I can trust Blue to behave. The cats… well, not so much.

  Maybe it was time for new cat toys. And I would grow catnip this summer.

  The pen was rescued along with two furless mouse toys, missing their tails and rattles, and a dented ping-pong ball that would never roll again. Yes, the toy count was down, Aphrodite was looking for live playmates, clearly it was time to get the cats some new playthings. I went back to finish our salad, thinking that it would be nice if all problems could be so easily corrected.

  Alex and I discussed his internet findings— or lack thereof— while we ate. As I had suspected, Brutus Brookes had led a blameless life and there was no obvious reason for someone to kill him. The only unusual event in the last year was his sudden inheritance from a wealthy uncle. Thaddeus and Brutus were both beneficiaries, but that wasn’t all that unusual and the uncle had died of natural causes.

  Of course, there was no obvious reason for anyone to kill Thaddeus either. The only person who had ever hated him was the ex-wife and she was long gone. It was all very discouraging.

  We had a quiet evening at home so I could brood in peace. When I am circling an idea, wanting to take its measure, I like to move around. But once the hypothesis is settled upon, the parameters explored, then I like to be still and contemplate in quiet. It can take time to coax the little voice inside that sometimes goes mute when it suspects some piece of information is faulty or it sees a conclusion is troublesome. Maybe even unthinkable.