Fred put a comforting arm around Liv’s shoulders. “You okay?”
She nodded. She felt better with Fred’s arm around her. He was only a few inches taller than she was. Roundish, good-natured.
Fred’s radio crackled and he stepped away. Bill’s voice came on. “I’m turning onto the track now. Everything under control?”
“Yes,” Fred said and signed off.
Two minutes later, the sheriff’s SUV pulled into the clearing. Bill climbed out, stretched his back, and started toward the group. He was moving slowly. Either Liv was going into shock or the sheriff’s sciatica must be acting up again.
Great, she thought. At least he didn’t have to chase any suspects. The only suspect seemed to be standing right here—Liv glanced uneasily at Henny—standing right here and still holding his shotgun.
Bill acknowledged Liv with a lift of his eyebrows, then flicked his fingers for them to move back. Fred and Liv took a giant step backward; Henny stood his ground and scowled.
Bill looked down at the fallen man, stiffly lowered his weight until he could rest his elbow on his bent knee. Then he felt for a pulse. Stood up again. Sighed deeply.
“Henny?”
“Yeah?”
“I think it would be best if you hand over that shotgun.”
Henny held the gun tighter.
“Just so there aren’t any more accidents.”
“Who says that was an accident?”
“Did you shoot him on purpose?”
“I didn’t shoot him at all.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure. I oughta know whether I killed a man or not. I mighta if I had seen him first. Come traipsing through here when the sign clearly says No Trespassing.”
“Then who shot him?”
“Dang if I know. I heard a shot, came out to investigate. Fired off a warning shot. In the air in case you’e wondering.” Henny smiled, showing a row of white dentures. “Found him lying there. Nobody else was around.”
“Hmm.” Bill scratched his head, scanned the ground, then walked around the body and peered into the trees. “Guess this is as far as you two came?”
“That’s right.” Fred said. “When we saw Henny here leaning over the body, we stopped. I should think we know better than to contaminate a crime scene.”
Bill looked toward heaven, then at Liv.
“I just went close enough to ascertain he wasn’t breathing. I was hoping that he’d had a heart attack,” she added lamely.
“Heart stopped, all right,” Henny volunteered. Flashed his obviously new dentures at them.
“Does anyone recognize the, uh, victim?”
“He was one of the runners,” Fred volunteered.
Bill sighed. “I figured that out.”
“Ted and I saw him standing with three other men before the race,” Liv said. “None of them were familiar. I got the impression they were from out of town.”
“Once we get an ID on him, can you point out the others when we get back to town?”
“I think so.”
The sound of another vehicle arriving made Henny level his shotgun.
“Dammit, Henny. That’s the ambulance.”
“Dang it, Bill. Don’t a man’s property mean nothing anymore?”
“Not when it involves the police and other emergency vehicles.”
Bill held up a hand to stop the EMT van. The back doors opened and two men and a woman jumped out carrying bags and electronic equipment. Another vehicle pulled up to the side of the ambulance and came to a stop. A rusty jeep that Liv recognized. She sighed.
Chaz Bristow, the laziest newspaper editor in the world, must have been listening to his police band this morning.
Liv began to shiver. The day was cold and crisp. She was dressed for exercise, not standing in the woods with a dead man and a possible killer.
The three EMTs passed by them. They all stopped dead and looked down at the body.
“Good grief,” said the youngest of the guys. “Where the heck do we put the electrodes?”
The other man shook his head. He squatted down and felt for a pulse, listened for breathing. Stood up. “Oh, man. Too late for this one.”
“Told them he was dead. I’d oblige you to get him and yourselves off my property.” Henny gestured with his shotgun.
“Sorry, Henny, but I’m going to have to confiscate your shotgun.”
“How am I supposed to protect myself and my property if you take my gun?”
“Actually,” Bill said, “I’m going to have to ask you to come along, too.”
“The heck you will,” Henny said just as Chaz Bristow sidled up to Liv.
He whistled. “You sure seem to have a knack for—”
“Don’t even say it,” Liv snapped between chattering teeth.
He smiled down at her, the smarmy smile that he knew made her angry. Probably the most handsome man in town, like a misplaced California surfer: tall, svelte, blond hair, blue eyes. Looks aside, he was lazy, obnoxious, and Liv’s nemesis.
“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have some fishing news to report?”
“I was going to report on the winners of the Turkey Trot.”
Liv gave him a sardonic look. “Really.”
“Well, it’s an idea, but mainly I just came to see you in your little running outfit.” He was wearing a torn University of Michigan sweatshirt and a plaid hunting jacket. He shook his in-need-of-a-haircut head. “But I gotta say, I was hoping for a little more spandex. So who’s the stiff?”
Liv shouldered away from him. For a man who only cared about fishing and sleeping, he sure managed to know what was going on. The fact that he’d been an investigative reporter in L.A. before inheriting his family’s newspaper might have something to do with it.
But he wouldn’t be interested in pursuing the investigation; he never was. Something she just didn’t understand. He just liked to hang around and make smarmy comments, mainly to annoy Liv.
And she didn’t understand that, either.
He walked past her and stopped to talk to Bill, though Liv could see him eyeing the body until the EMTs covered it with a tarp to wait for the coroner. Then his focus moved to the woods beyond.
Liv couldn’t help herself, She looked, too.
He turned abruptly and caught her looking. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift back to town.” He grinned, flashing white teeth in what should be a killer smile but just managed to make Liv angrier.
“I’ll even let you off a couple of blocks from the finish line. Don’t want to ruin your reputation.” He winked at her.
“Oh, go away.” Liv turned back to Bill. “Do you still need me? I thought I would finish the race. Keep things as normal-looking as possible.”
“Go ahead. I’ll talk to you back in town. And keep an eye out for his friends.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“But don’t say anything to them—or anybody else.”
“I’ll have to tell Ted in case we need to make contingency plans..”
“But no one else.”
“Right.” Liv started back the way she had come.
“You’d be better off following the drive here. It lets out on the county road. Turn right and it will swing you back on course right before you get back to town.”
“Thanks.” She started toward the parked cars.
She thought she heard someone chuckling as she broke into a jog. It didn’t take a great stretch of the imagination to know which of the men it was.
She was sure of it when, a few minutes later, Chaz drove past her and tooted his horn. He turned off at the first side street and Liv made a final burst for the finish.
Ted, Edna, and Ida were waiting for her at the finish line. Whiskey started jumping at his leash as she slowed to a cooldown.
“We were beginning to get worried,” Miss Ida said.
“Guess I’m more out of shape than I thought,” Liv said, kneeling down to rub Whiskey’s back
. “Hey, buddy.” He rested his paws on her knees and licked her face.
“But you made a very nice showing,” Miss Edna added. “There are quite a few people who still haven’t finished.
And one who won’t finish at all, thought Liv and shuddered.
“Here, put this on.” Ted slipped her down jacket over her shoulders and handed her a pair of sweats to go over her running pants. “We need to get over to the award presentations.”
Liv nodded and shrugged into her jacket and sweats, though she didn’t think either would stop the chill that had permeated her bones after finding the runner dead in the woods.
“You two go on ahead,” Miss Edna said. “We’re going over to the bakery to pick up some scones for a nice tea. And one of Dolly’s new doggie treats for you-know-who.”
Whiskey jumped and twisted in the air.
“I think a certain little Westie knows who you-know-who is.”
Whiskey barked and pointed his nose toward the bakery. The sisters waved good-bye and hurried across the green to the Apple of My Eye with Whiskey leading the way.
“So,” Ted said. “Don’t tell me it took you that long to finish a few measly kilometers. I saw Bill hightail it out of town in that direction. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Liv leaned close. “I’m afraid one of the marathoners has met an untimely end.”
“Anyone we know?”
“One of those guys we saw this morning.”
“One of the goon squad?”
Liv nodded. “The one they called Max.” She zipped up her jacket, and while she and Ted walked toward the band shell where the awards would be given out, she told him about the shot and finding the runner in the woods.
“And Henny said he didn’t shoot him?”
“That’s what he said. Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Oh, he generally does. So if you’re worried about the town getting a bad reputation . . .”
“I’m more worried that it might not be safe.” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “What was he doing in the woods anyway?”
“The runner? I don’t know, taking a shortcut?”
“What’s the point of running a race if you’re going to cheat?”
“Maybe he was hedging his bets. We heard him bet the other guy he could make it back first.”
“We did. But two things are bothering me. One, how would he know that would be a shortcut?”
Ted shrugged. “Beats me. And the second thing?”
“If Henny didn’t shoot him, who did?”
Chapter 3
While they waited for the award ceremony to begin, Liv scanned the crowd for the three runners she’d seen with the dead man. To no avail. The crowd was large and people were pressed closely together in the area in front of the band shell.
“Do you see them?” Ted asked.
“No. But I remember Max”—she lowered her voice—“the dead man, saying he’d beat them back to the hotel when they were making the bet. Maybe they weren’t planning to come to the award presentations at all.”
“Hmm,” Ted said. “What Max said was that he’d be waiting in the bar.
“I wonder if they’re staying at the Lakeside Inn. None of the B and Bs have a bar, do they?”
“Nope. I wonder if Bill knows.”
The microphone squealed. “Welcome to the Annual Celebration Bay Turkey Trot,” the mayor said. “You’ll be pleased to know that this year’s events raised four truckloads of food, and an additional four thousand dollars to be donated to the Celebration Bay Youth Program.”
Cheering and applause followed the mayor’s announcement. Awards were handed out and the crowd began to disperse, heading for cars, shopping, or one of the several eateries in town.
“Not bad for a morning’s fun,” Ted said as they walked across the green toward town hall.
“Not bad at all, except for that one thing.” Liv shuddered. “We’ll have to figure out a way to enforce that no hunting rule before next year’s race. Or choose another route.”
“Like running in a circle around the square two hundred times? You worry too much. You can’t control everything.”
“I’m paid to worry. It’s my job to make sure things like this don’t happen.” Event organizers had to be on the alert twenty-four/seven. Which is why it was a burnout business. Liv would have been among the casualties if she hadn’t left Manhattan for a calmer way of life. Not that she’d had a spare moment to relax since she arrived in town.
So far, her new job had turned out to be much more challenging than dealing with the most demanding executive, mother of the bride, or sweet sixteen in all of Manhattan. It was also way more satisfying.
“Stuff happens, and even you, my dear, can’t prevent every little mishap.”
“This wasn’t little.”
“Well, no,” Ted agreed.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Liv knew Ted was right. She couldn’t control everything. Huge, open venues like this were an event planner’s nightmare, impossible to prepare for every snafu. And most of the events were town-wide, sometimes county-wide.
Bill was waiting for them outside their office.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Liv said. “I didn’t see Max’s friends at the ceremony. It was really crowded.”
“Don’t worry about it. They shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
Ted lifted his eyebrows at her.
Bill unbuttoned his police jacket. “Why don’t we go into your office? Ted, you might as well come, too.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Bill coughed a laugh. “You’ll find out anyway.” He turned to Liv, who had stopped halfway to her chair. “And I don’t mean you can’t keep a secret. Ted always has the latest. Don’t know how he does it.”
“It’s a gift.”
Bill sat down. Ted pulled up a chair and sat next to him. Liv waited.
Bill cleared his throat. He was a tall man, except when his sciatica was acting up. Big boned with grizzled gray, curly hair. Friendly enough not to scare children, tough enough to deter misdemeanors.
Still Liv felt like she was on the hot seat. “I know. It’s the second suspicious death since I’ve been here. It’s a coincidence.”
“Absolutely,” Ted said. “And if Janine opens her mouth and tries to blame you or the Events Office, I may just make mincemeat of her.”
Bill and Liv both looked at him, astonished.
“In keeping with the holiday.” He grinned.
Janine had been the volunteer events coordinator before they hired Liv. Now she was a successful real estate saleswoman, but she still hadn’t forgiven Liv for what she saw as Liv having taken her job.
Bill got out his notebook. “Tell me what happened.”
Liv went through the events from hearing the shot to finding Henny kneeling over the body. “We heard two shots. Henny said he heard the first shot and fired a warning shot to scare the trespasser away. I guess he told you that.”
“Yes, but you just tell me again,” Bill said patiently.
Liv went through the events of that morning. “Ted and I saw him, Max, with three other men before the race.”
“Max?”
“That’s what they called him. One of them was Pudge.” Liv described him. “And two others, um . . .”
“Joe and Eric,” Ted volunteered.
Bill scratched his head. “You two are something else.”
“Devil’s in the details,” Ted said, appropriating one of Liv’s favorite sayings. He smiled at her. Reassuring.
“They made a bet that Max would beat Pudge back to the hotel.”
Bill’s eyebrows lifted at that.
“Not major, just a few dollars. I told them they should donate the proceeds to the community center.”
“Good for you. That’s the last thing we need, betting on events. Gambling in general. I live in dread of one of the tribes opening a casino nearby. I don’t have enough troopers as it is.”
>
“Perish the thought,” Ted said.
“So they’re staying at a hotel?”
“That’s what Max said. Actually, he said he’d meet them in the bar at the hotel, which must mean the Inn.”
Bill’s pen paused over his notebook. He looked up from under his bushy eyebrows. “Possibly.”
“I mean, none of the B and Bs have bars, and if they were going to drive to the highway, he would have said motel, wouldn’t he?”
Ted smothered a grin. Bill shook his head but kept writing.
“Did you find any hunters? Everyone around here had to know there was no hunting today.” Liv slumped back in her chair. “There are thousands of acres of woodland. Why did they have to come to the only place where they weren’t supposed to be? They had to see the signs. They were everywhere.”
“Good hunters go for a clean kill. A hunter who only wounds an animal will follow it to finish the job. It’s the only humane thing to do. Maybe when he realized he hadn’t killed his quarry he tracked it so he could finish the job. Got in the ‘zone.’ And just didn’t notice where he was.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Liv said, ignoring the fact that she’d been in her own running zone just a couple of hours ago and hadn’t noticed anything around her . . . until she’d heard the shot. “Even so, he had to have noticed that he’d shot a man instead of a deer. Why didn’t he call for help if it was an accident? And where is the deer?”
“Could still be running.”
“Or dying a horrible death,” Liv said.
“Well, yeah.”
Liv frowned. She didn’t know anything about hunting but it seemed weird to mistake a runner for a deer or even a bear. She warned herself to keep her mouth shut, but didn’t listen. “Are you sure it was an accident?”
“You mean did Henny kill him after all?”
“Yes. Or someone. The guy was wearing red-and-black spandex and walking upright.”
Bill winced. “Trigger-happy. It’s important to have quick reflexes in hunting.”
“Well, I think it’s—”
Cold Turkey Page 2