Sinister Justice

by Steve Pickens

  Once in the PT Cruiser, Jake drove north up High Street then turned onto Hope Street, cutting over onto the heavily wooded, seldom used Dawson Road. Jake had never liked the road, feeling something wasn’t quite right about that area of woods below Cultus Mountain. He always expected to see Bigfoot ambling his way across the road, or something worse.

  “You know, if you dislike this road so much, you shouldn’t take it,” said Sam. “Slow down, the road curves ahead.”

  Jake did as he was told. “I don’t normally feel this way about the woods. I grew up in the woods. I love the woods. But there is just something not quite right in here.” He glanced in the rear view mirror at Barnaby, who seemed to be unusually intent, looking out the windows. “Even Barnaby doesn’t like it.”

  “That’s because there’s a lot of wildlife in here. Possibly even bears.”

  “I’ve never looked up the history of this part of town. In fact, I’ve never looked up much of the town’s history.”

  “You should. I think you’d find it interesting. There’s a lot of sordid stuff that went on in Arrow Bay, particularly during Prohibition.”

  “And what makes you think I’d only be interested in the sordid stuff, Samuel O’Conner?”

  “Come on. You’re a huge fan of true crime. What part of boring ordinary history would really interest you?”

  “Well, okay. Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, who would be interested in the boring history? You should talk to Miranda Zimmerman. She’s the local expert. I’ve heard she knows where all the bodies are buried in this town.”

  “The librarian?”

  “Yes. Nice blonde lady. We’ve talked about her before. She’s helped me track the history of some long lost boats from this area.”

  “It’s an idea.”

  The trees fell away, and they emerged on the side of the hill. Once as lushly forested as the valley they had just left, it had been logged sometime in the last century. The trees had never grown back. Jake took a left and drove down the hill past the misnamed Green Mountain, which was a deforested hill of wildflowers and tall grass. At its foot was Bedford Memorial Park, five acres of rolling meadows. The entrance to the park was a large, unattractive wrought iron gate which always reminded Jake of thistles that had grown together. It stretched upward, its black bars locked in agonizing coils, BEDFORD MEMORIAL PARK spelled out across the top in foot-high brass letters.

  The road diverged just inside the gate. Jake turned to the right and pulled the PT Cruiser in the first available slot, taking note of Verna Monger’s Buick. He let Barnaby out and attached the leash, leading him over to Monger’s car.

  “Jake!” Sam scolded, as Barnaby urinated happily on the Buick’s front tire.

  “What? He had to go!”

  “And there was something wrong with the tree over there?”

  “Oh, he couldn’t wait that long. Besides, better Monger’s Buick than one of the tombstones of the founding fathers of Arrow Bay, n’est ce pas?”

  * * *

  The day was cloudy and cold. The wind was not blowing, and everything was still. Heavy dew had made the grass and bare branches glisten with moisture. The sky was leaden and gloomy, a deep gray that held the threat of rain. Looking down the hill, Jake could see a slice of Lake Palmer and beyond that, Arrow Bay spread out against the barrier of the water. It was nearly monochrome with the gray sky, gray splinter of Lake Palmer, and muted browns and yellows of the meadows around them. Jake found it suddenly depressing to look at and turned away, focusing instead on his feet and Barnaby as they walked toward the gazebo.

  The gazebo was all that was left of a turn of the century amusement park that had once been on the land. Large enough for a brass band, the gazebo stood in the center of an amphitheater. Reverend Crawford was already speaking about the passage of life and of the incredible cruelty that people inflict upon one another, but how not to lose sight of God in such circumstances. Jake nodded to Sam and began to slowly move about the crowd.

  At least sixty people were there. Jake spotted Professor Mills, Baldo Ludich, Gladys Nyberg, Rebecca Windsor, and Verna Monger. Trudy Mundy, her husband, and Clint Shimmel appeared to be muttering something to each other. The members of the Arrow Bay Quilter’s Club were all standing well apart from one another, though Sheila Doyle and Norma Middlebrook were staring daggers at each other. Chad Rudd, the presumed successor to the City Council, was standing near the Reverend Crawford and to the right of Evelyn O’Conner, whom did not at all look pleased that she was near the man. To Evelyn’s left was Marilyn Sandy, in scrubs and obviously on her lunch hour from the hospital. Milton Sandy was standing next to her, Jake spying the little bug with the big X’s over its eyes on the pocket of his overalls. Jake moved around them, nodding at Evelyn, whom he suspected knew exactly what he was up to.

  He finally spotted Randy Burrows and Emma Kennedy off to the side of the group. There was no love lost for the subjects of the memorial, as they were smoking and talking to themselves and ignoring the proceedings completely. Jake circled around, pretending to be taking Barnaby around for a little walk. Barnaby rose to the occasion by marking one of the trees. Jake listened intently to what Kennedy and Burrows were talking about without looking obvious about it, but he didn’t have long.

  “Blackburn says we really don’t have a choice. Rudd’s the only one who’s submitted his name that can be taken sincerely. He could seriously stymie things,” Kennedy was saying, exhaling a plume of smoke. Jake inched his way closer, trying to get Barnaby the next tree over.

  “Not a lot we can do about it at this point. We’ll just have to make the best of a bad situation,” he said, spying Jake and Barnaby.

  Jake was now focused on Verna Monger, who was watching Jake as he edged his way over to Kennedy and Burrows. Jake put his index fingers in the corner of his mouth and stuck his tongue out at Monger. Kennedy and Burrows laughed, and Verna Monger abruptly turned away while the Reverend Crawford faltered in her speech. She recovered quickly, but Jake could see Sam, now standing next to his mother covering his eyes with one gloved hand while Evelyn O’Conner tried to suppress uncontrolled laughter, tears running out of the corners of her eyes. Jake quit making the face and turned back to nudge Barnaby along a little closer to Burrows and Kennedy.

  Jake caught sight of Adam Haggerty, who appeared to be scrutinizing him with a bemused expression on his face. Jake pretended not to see him.

  “Arrow Bay’s finest detective been bugging you too?” Kennedy asked.

  “Let’s just say I don’t like the sudden attention I’ve been getting from Arrow Bay’s PD.”

  “I know the feeling,” said Burrows, lighting another cigarette. “They’ve been breathing down my neck for weeks now.”

  Jake caught Kennedy giving Burrows a look like she wanted him to clam up, but fortunately for Jake, he completely missed it. Jake pressed on, trying to be delicate.

  “When they run out of evidence, they try shaking trees. I suspect Haggerty’s at the end of his rope and hopes if he bothers enough people, one of them will break down and confess.”

  “With plans like that, he ought to catch the guy in about 2050,” said Emma Kennedy.

  “Well, you have to wonder. I mean, obviously this service was done especially to make someone slip up,” said Jake, eliciting uncomfortable looks from Kennedy and Burrows. “You didn’t know that?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it,” she said, “but I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Burrows.

  “Well, we’re all suspects in Haggerty’s eyes. I mean me and Sam for not liking Leona…”

  “Ha,” said Kennedy in another puff of smoke. “Who did like Leona?”

  “Or Longhoffer.”

  “Well, it’ll make things easier on the council for you. Two of three stumbling blocks gone.”

  “See, that’s why I can’t figure out why Haggerty keeps bugging us,” said Emma,
clearly annoyed. “If we were knocking people off to open up the city council, why stop at Longhoffer? Why not get rid of Verna Monger while we’re at it? Alex Blackburn’s father was a creep, but I wouldn’t have any reason to kill him.”

  “I take it you didn’t know about Blackburn Junior bankrolling Longhoffer’s attempt to plow under Wilde Park.”

  “I didn’t know he had anything to do with Reed until Alex let it slip at the meeting.”

  “Oh, the police probably put you down on the suspect list for throwing Blackburn Junior out of the Inn that night. Ready-made motive, there, the idiots,” said Jake, rolling his eyes dramatically.

  “That’s right, you were there. You saw what he did. He punched his own son. I wasn’t about to put up with that.”

  “Damn right,” said Jake.

  “I mean, sure I’d had some problems in the past with the guy. We fought tooth and nail over some of the property on Ashton Avenue, but God, that was years ago.”

  “I thought Blackburn died of natural causes?” asked Burrows.

  “Ha, don’t kid yourself. I talked to Alex about it. It was not natural causes. Our local mook is keeping it out of the press, though I gather not for much longer,” said Kennedy. “Other than that night at the Inn, I hadn’t set eyes on the man in probably ten years. He never came to the council meetings.”

  “Even with all his dealings with Reed Longhoffer?”

  “He always kept well out of the public side of it,” said Randy Burrows, shaking his head. “Roxy told me Junior and Reed had some land deal going, but Blackburn had to pull out of it when the company came crashing down around his head.”

  “I don’t think even Alex knew about that,” said Emma, eyeing Jake. “You’re pretty good friends with him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I don’t think Alex knew what his father was up to most of the time. Particularly over the last year. If it was something his father was doing outside of the company, then Alex wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

  “That’s what Roxy said. Before she came to work for me, she had her finger right on the pulse of the Arrow Bay real estate market.”

  “Someone told me that Blackburn Junior owned that lot you built your studio on,” said Jake.

  “What? Who told you that? No, that was Roxy’s, free and clear. She finally agreed to sell to me after I promised her I’d try her out for a year at KABW,” said Randy. “How do you think she’s doing?”

  “Oh,” said Jake, “Fine, fine.”

  “There are some rough edges to work out, but I think it’ll be okay,” said Randy. “God knows she’s interested enough in the goings on of Arrow Bay to make a career out of it.”

  Emma Kennedy grunted. Jake got the distinct feeling she wanted to say something more, but instead she said, “It’s only for a year, anyway,” said Emma, shaking her head. “Here comes Haggerty again. Probably wants to ask me where I was on the night old Longhoffer got eaten,” she said, disgusted.

  “He bugged me about that too,” said Jake. Banding together with Haggerty’s list of suspects was proving to be very useful, even if he wasn’t technically a suspect. “Didn’t like the fact that I was in front of a bar full of witnesses.”

  “That sounds familiar. I was in the basement of the Inn with my handywoman Gert. We were trying to sort out a plumbing problem. Ugh, we were there all night after the council meeting. Finally got the damn basement pumped out around two in the morning.”

  “And I was in Seattle,” said Burrows. “Left just after the meeting, constructive bit of work that it was. Although I have to say, I didn’t realize Gladys Nyberg had quite the arm on her.”

  They all laughed, getting another look from Reverend Crawford, who had just finished up her service and was now leading a prayer. Everyone bowed their heads accordingly, Jake, Randy and Emma all stifling their laughs. After “amen” was uttered, the crowd began to disperse. Emma and Randy bid Jake good-bye.

  “Hello, Mr. Finnigan,” rang Haggerty’s voice from behind him. “Glean anything useful?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I was merely talking to a few acquaintances.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted with Mr. Burrows and Ms. Kennedy.”

  “It’s a small town. Everyone tends to know everyone else. Although I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you until last year,” said Jake, stomping down the hill toward Sam.

  “Oh, brother,” said Haggerty. “Please don’t ever go into police work, Mr. Finnigan. You’d get shot in a heartbeat with that inability to lie.”

  “More likely for being a snitch,” said Sam, approaching them. “Kennedy and Burrows probably think you’re ratting them out,” he said.

  “Well, there was a big fat zero there anyway,” Jake said. “Although it’s nice to be able to cross them off the suspect list.”

  “I thought you didn’t get involved in murder investigations, Mr. Finnigan?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Be very careful, Mr. Finnigan. Aside from the fact that there’s a dangerous killer around, there are certain superiors in the department with suspicious minds, shall we say?”

  “You mean Nelson Dorval.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Say, what’s with him anyway?” asked Sam. “Why does he feel the need to go poking around in something that doesn’t even concern him?”

  “What I can say about my boss can’t be said here without offending nearly everyone.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, try me,” said Reverend Crawford. “I didn’t think this was a good idea, and I don’t like being manipulated. I only agreed to it because I thought it might do the town some good. All it really did was point out to me how much the people of this town really loathed them.”

  “There wasn’t exactly a Longhoffer/Weinberg/Blackburn fan club out there,” Evelyn O’Conner said, wrapping her red shawl over her head.

  “Let’s just say my boss would be in good company with those aforementioned people,” Haggerty said as Sharon Trumbo joined him.

  “Adam,” she said, a tone of reprimand in her voice.

  “Then this was his idea?” Jake asked.

  “I’m sorry, we can’t comment on that,” Sharon said.

  “Yes. As he doesn’t seem to think I’m doing my job correctly. That I haven’t been able to peg down enough suspects,” Haggerty said angrily.

  “There’s got to be better suspects out there than the lot that showed up here,” said Reverend Crawford. “Occam’s razor says the simplest solution is usually the answer, but I don’t think that is the case here.”

  “Nor do I,” Evelyn said.

  “That’s one thing we can all agree on,” said Sharon. “Adam, we should get going.”

  “Good day, Reverend. Nice service. Thank you for being accommodating,” he said, bowing gracefully before walking away with Sharon Trumbo and disappearing up the pathway back to the parking lot.

  “What was that all about?” Evelyn O’Conner asked.

  “I think the police are having a harder time than I thought,” Jake said, “and it seems that Haggerty is bearing the brunt of it.”

  “Which is too bad,” said Sam, resting his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I get the feeling that Haggerty and Trumbo are the best Arrow Bay has.”

  Jake sucked in a great breath of air, letting it out slowly. “Politics,” he said, still not happy with the fact that Nelson Dorval was too keenly interested in the Susan Crane case.

  “I wish I’d never gone along with this,” said Milly Crawford, shaking her head. “If I had known that Nelson Dorval was going to put thumbscrews into the innocent people of this town I’d have told him to jump off a cliff. I just thought I was doing my civic duty, I suppose.”

  “Not your fault, Reverend,” said Jake kindly. “The Arrow Bay PD is under a tremendous amount of pressure. Dorval’s just letting his personal agenda get in the way.” He picked his cell phone out of his pocket, hit the fifth quick dial-button, and waited until his brother pi
cked up.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Finnigan.”

  “What a coincidence, this is Finnigan too.”

  “How’d it go?” Jason asked.

  “I know who didn’t do it. Though I think I’m a suspect again. At least with some people. I know you said Derek is off the story, but do you think he’d get back on the story if he had an exclusive?”

  “Exclusive what?”

  “Yes or no? I won’t go into details on the phone.”

  “I can ask him. I can only assume this has to do with the case.”

  “Oh, yeah. I have some things he might be interested in.”

  “Jake,” said Sam. “You’re shaking the beehive.”

  “The beehive shook me,” said Jake, shielding the phone from his mouth.

  “How about dinner at my place tonight?” asked Jason. “Well, our place I guess.”

  “That’ll be just fine. Six?”

  “Better make it seven. I need to clean the joint up.”

  “I thought you said Derek was pathologically neat.”

  “He is. Let’s just say some sprawl from my room is taking up some space.”

  “Seven it is,” said Jake.

  “Good. And I’ll warn you, whatever you have better be good. I don’t think Derek relishes the idea of spending time in an interrogation room with Arrow Bay PD again.”

  “See ya, J.D.,” said Jake, ringing off. He shook his head looking at Sam. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I’m going to start calling you Veronica Mars.”

  “She had a good sense of justice.”

  “She also didn’t have any friends. And this isn’t a television show. Or a mystery novel.”

  “No, you’ve got that right. If it was this loony, the killer, would have been caught by now,” said Jake, dialing the phone again. “I have to ask Alex if it is okay if I talk to Derek about this.”

  “Blackburn.”

  “Hi Alex, it’s Jake.”

  “I know. Caller ID. What can I do for you?”

  “If I cook you a big homemade meal, can I ask a huge favor of you?”