Voted Out

by J. S. Marlo

  Jasper noted the details in his phone. Long after Finch’s body cooled down, someone abandoned his red truck here. Two big questions swirled in Jasper’s mind. Who? and Why here? “When did you spot the truck?”

  “I noticed it early this morning.” The owner frowned as his gaze traveled toward the end of the motel. “I didn’t think anything of it until the maid reported the room was clean and unoccupied.”

  “Room? What room?” Jasper glanced between the truck, the owner, and the gray door that appeared to fascinate Chartrand. The door was numbered 119. “Was Finch a regular guest?”

  “His company keeps a room here. It was included in the deal we made.” The man expelled a hoarse sigh. “I thought he’d offer it to his visiting clients, not...well, I guess he could invite who he pleased, right?”

  The uncanny feeling his list of suspects would soon grow by a few pages hit Jasper like a wrecking ball. “I assume Thomas Finch stayed in room 119 on a regular basis?”

  Shoulders slouched, Chartrand dug his hands in his pants pocket. “Yes. Would you like to see it?”

  “Give me a minute here. I need to call the station.” After Jasper requested the presence of the crime scene unit to process the truck, he followed the owner to the room.

  A king size bed made with crisp white linens and framed by two night tables occupied the room. No dust covered the surfaces of the furniture, no smudges marked the wooden floor, and no trash cluttered the garbage cans. With a gloved hand, Jasper checked the drawers of the dresser, night tables, and desks. A new bible was tucked in the night table closest to the door, a few blank sheets of paper and a pen sporting the name of the motel rested on top of the desk, and in the bottom drawer of the dresser, Jasper discovered an unopened box of condoms.

  “Detective?” The owner pointed to the side of the bed. “Something’s underneath.”

  Jasper knelt down to have a look. The something appeared to be yellow lingerie. He took a picture with his phone, then pulled an evidence bag from his pocket, picked up the items, a yellow negligee with matching panties, and slipped them in the bag.

  “I can’t believe the maid missed it. The filthy underwear was almost in plain sight.” A horrified look contorted Chartrand’s face. “I can assure you, Detective, she usually leaves the rooms impeccable. I need to have a word with her before she damages my reputation.”

  The vehement protests sparked a different possibility in Jasper’s mind. If the maid showed as much attention to details as the owner claimed, Jasper couldn’t rule out the garment was planted after she cleaned the room, which meant it could be symbolic—like the exposure of Finch’s private parts.

  Jasper glanced out of the window. The van from the crime scene unit was parked in the middle of the lot. The driver’s side door of Finch’s truck was open and one guy leaned inside the front.

  Whoever drove Finch’s truck here had jumped to the top of Jasper’s most wanted list. “Mr. Chartrand, did you install any security cameras in the hallways, around the building, or overlooking the parking lot?”

  The owner paced the room. “Yes, but they won’t be hooked up until next week.”

  For a fraction of a second, Jasper’s hope soared only to crash with the lack of the cameras’ connectivity. “Could you describe Finch’s recent guests?”

  Chartrand ran a well-manicured hand into thick brown hair streaked with blond highlights. “Not really. I glimpsed a woman with a scarf on her head and dark sunglasses a few times. Medium height. Small build. I never saw her face, or her hair, and she didn’t always wear the same scarf. I suppose they could have been different women...or men.”

  The description fit a fair percentage of the local population, which didn’t help Jasper, but a car description would narrow his search. “Have you ever seen her arrive or leave? In a car? In a cab?”

  “No, but I can gather my employees in the staff room if you’d like to question them.” The owner gestured toward the indoor door. “They should all be here at this time.”

  “Great idea. I’ll join you in ten minutes.” Evidence bag in hand, Jasper exited by the opposite door, the one leading directly outside.

  The same fellow who processed Finch’s office welcomed him with a smile. “Good day, Detective. That’s two days in a row, you know. My wife is going to accuse me of having an affair.”

  The greeting brightened his day. “Well, I have bad news for you. Thomas Finch was entertaining guests in room 119.” Jasper handed him the bag with the negligee. “The room was clean, but I found these under the bed. Once you’re done with the truck, the room is all yours to process.”

  “Sweet.” The guy held the bag at eye level. “If my wife sees me with these, she’ll ask for a divorce.”

  Jasper burst out laughing. If he wasn’t mistaken, the man was a grandfather who’d been married to the same woman for over thirty years. “I’m sure you can come up with a good explanation. If you need me, I’ll be inside talking to the staff.”

  If Finch’s guests hid behind a disguise, Jasper suspected they also aimed to avoid anyone who could identify them. Still, any details, as insignificant as they might appear, could help him.

  “Detective?”

  Stopped in his tracks by a male voice, Jasper turned around. “You found something?”

  The guy processing the inside of the truck had extracted himself from the front seat holding a plastic bag. As he approached, the bag morphed into two separate bags, and the objects in his possession became clearer.

  Jasper arched a brow. “A cell phone and a key ring?”

  “Yes. I found the key in the ignition and the phone stuck between the driver’s seat and the middle console. We’ll try to unlock it, but it would save us time and trouble if you contacted the family and inquired about the password.” The guy shoved the two bags into his evidence box. “We’re also processing lots of fingerprints. It would help if you could convince the family members to provide theirs so we can rule them out.”

  ~ * ~

  Two adjectives described Liliane’s favorite meetings. Short and sweet. Not only did this meeting meet both, no one asked questions at the end. On paper, Leonard had become the new returning officer, but in reality, she ran the show. The staff understood the situation and each member supported her leadership—at least all the ones who showed up.

  Jasmin’s absence bothered Liliane more than Sophie’s. After being caught in Thomas’ office, Sophie might have decided she didn’t need to attend the mandatory meeting since Liliane told her about taking Thomas’ job. Still, she’d expected more from her revision supervisor.

  A knock on her door was followed by a head peeking through the gap as it opened.

  “Come in, Gloria.” Hoping the interruption signaled an upcoming answer to her request, and not another problem, Liliane gestured for her to approach. “Did you reach Jasmin?”

  The older woman stepped in. “I tried many times, but her cell phone goes directly to voicemail. I don’t know what to tell you, Liliane. When I called her last night about the meeting, she promised to show up.”

  No training sessions were scheduled until 6:00 tonight, still Liliane worried. “If you hear about her, or if she arrives, direct her into my office, please.”

  A knowing smile lit up Gloria’s face. “Will do.”

  After the door closed, Liliane retrieved her iPhone from her purse. This call couldn’t and shouldn’t be traced back to the election office—or the acting returning officer.

  The man whose assistance she sought answered on the first ring. “Greg Roskowick speaking.”

  “Hi, Greg. It’s Liliane. Please don’t repeat my name aloud.” Though she didn’t hear any sounds in the background, she knew better than to assume no one stood within eavesdropping distance of him. “We need to have a chat. Today. Find a good excuse to come see me, please?”

  “Sure. Will do.” Outside his job as party manager, Greg worked as a plumber. He modernized the bathrooms of her house and her studio after she moved into town
. “Thanks for calling.”

  If she told Damien or Jasper she contacted Greg, one would admonish her for giving the appearance of colluding with a party while the other would chide her for meddling into his murder investigation. With Thomas dead, she doubted the fake contribution was at the top of either man’s agenda. Liliane understood their higher priorities, but that check bothered her, and she hadn’t learned yet to turn a blind eye to things that made no sense.

  A knock on her door halted her musings. She peeked at her iPhone. 12:18 p.m. Unless Greg was walking in front of the building when she phoned him, it couldn’t already be him.

  “Come in.”

  A middle-aged woman whose name toyed with the tip of Liliane’s tongue entered without closing the door behind her. “Sorry to disturb you, Liliane, but when I approached Mr. Hassler, he told me to see you.”

  Pleased to hear that Leonard followed her instruction, she invited her visitor to take a seat, but the woman declined. Instead, she rocked back and forth on the heels of turquoise flip-flops that matched the large single streak in her silver hair.

  Her name popped into Liliane’s head as she recalled her to be Sophie’s most reliable revising agent. “What can I do for you, Colleen?”

  Colleen’s gaze settled on the sheet of paper pinched between her tight fingers. “We...we have a problem.”

  Sweet chocolate, girl. I may bark, but I don’t bite innocent victims. Liliane was tempted to tell the anxious agent to relax, but at the risk of intimidating her further, she refrained. “Solving problems is part of my job. So, what’s going on?”

  “This is a close-up of Riverside Village, Wet Meadow, and Deep Burrows.” The agent presented her with a map featuring the three villages. “We have a polling station problem.”

  Riverside Village was located on the west bank of the Snake River. Wet Meadow faced it from across the water with Deep Burrows situated a few kilometers inland from the east bank.

  “We do?” While Liliane never visited any of these indigenous villages, she could pinpoint them on a map without needing directions. “We have a poll in Riverside Village, which is on one side of the river, and we have another poll on the other side in Deep Burrows. You’re not going to tell me the people in Wet Meadow don’t want to drive five minutes to go vote in Deep Burrows because they aren’t the same tribes, are you?”

  Chuckles escaped the agent’s mouth. “That’s the problem. About a hundred and fifty voters live in Wet Meadow, and they want to vote in Deep Burrows.”

  Liliane stared in confusion. “You lost me.”

  “Well, whoever drew the boundaries put Wet Meadow in the same polling division as Riverside Village.” The revising agent rolled her eyes. “I guess someone didn’t realize the zigzagging blue line represented a river or didn’t care it took an hour to drive to the nearest bridge.”

  Whoever didn’t use the river as boundary and drew the dividing line between Wet Meadow and Deep Burrows deserved an award for absurdity. Knowing that prior to the announcement of the by-election, Thomas would have been paid to review those maps didn’t improve Liliane’s mood. The dead returning officer should have noticed the inconsistency and reported it so it could be corrected. The oversight was inexcusable.

  As aggravated as she felt, Liliane didn’t have time to wage a battle with the geography department. “You’re right. Wet Meadow doesn’t belong with Riverside Village. You could transfer those one hundred and fifty electors one by one into Deep Burrows, and issue them a new voter information card, but that would be time-consuming. I take it Sophie isn’t in yet?”

  As revision supervisor, Sophie was authorized to perform more complex tasks. Unlike her revising agents, she could transfer batches of people in the elector database with a few clicks of her mouse. In normal times, Colleen would have approached Sophie with that problem.

  When Colleen shook her head, Liliane stretched her neck to peek over her visitor’s right shoulder. “Nathalie? You there?”

  With both their doors open, Nathalie would hear her from her office.

  Her friend stepped into her doorway. “Where else would I be? You didn’t let me resign. What’s up?”

  “I need you to move a village.” Liliane returned the map to the revising agent. “Colleen will explain.”

  “Sure. Why not?” Nathalie gestured for Colleen to follow her into her office. “While I’m at it, I’ll try to move all of us to a tropical island.”

  Laughter bubbled in Liliane’s chest. “I don’t like heat, remember?”

  “Fine,” grumbled her friend from inside her office. “I’ll send you to the North Pole. You can move in next to Santa.”

  Chapter Ten

  ~Some leave too soon while others don’t leave soon enough.~

  The knocks resounded over the music playing in her office.

  Liliane lowered the volume. “Come in.”

  The receptionist’s head peeked around her door. “Mr. Greg Roskowick is here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says it’s important. Something to do with the nomination papers of his candidate.”

  She was pleased he had come up with a plausible excuse. “Send him in, please.”

  While she waited, she extracted the copy of the check from her locked drawer and placed it face down on her desk. Damien never asked her to give it back, so she kept it in case it came handy one day. A few minutes later, the man who used to show up in her gallery with holes in his jeans and graphic t-shirts of his favorite rock bands walked in wearing black dress pants and a gray golf shirt.

  She gestured for him to shut the door.

  After he complied, he took a seat without waiting for an invitation. “Why the secrecy? What’s going on?”

  “This.” She handed him the copy of Thomas’ contribution to his party. “Care to explain?”

  The man stared at her with obvious bewilderment. “Where did you get a copy?”

  “Where or how are the least of your problems right now.” If it became relevant, she would tell him. Off the record. “It’s not a secret that Thomas favored your party, but as returning officer, he was obligated to remain impartial. You’re the manager of the party, Greg. What do you think will happen if the media learn you accepted his money?”

  A long sigh deflated his muscular chest. “If I level with you, can we keep this conversation between us?”

  Had he been ten years older, Liliane might have set romantic sights on him, and had he been ten years younger, she might have encouraged Ariana to go on a date with him. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re discussing your candidate’s nomination papers.”

  “I did cook up a good cover story, didn’t I?” In his defense, unlike the sleazy candidate he represented, Greg’s sense of decency was on par with his new sense of fashion. “Okay, here’s what happened. About two weeks ago, I found a white envelope, with the name of the party written on it, in the office’s mailbox outside the front door. No sender’s name, no stamp, no return address. I opened it and found the check. No note, no explanation, no nothing.”

  “And you didn’t find it strange?” Had she hand-delivered a letter with a check for that amount she would have come into the office and given it to a real person, not left it outside.

  “Suspicious would be a better word, which is why I locked the check into my drawer without cashing it. My candidate can’t afford to be the recipient of an illegal corporate contribution or to see Thomas’ name on his list of contributors.” He flung the sheet with the picture of the check on her desk. “Am I here because you think I leaked the check to whoever gave you this?”

  While she commended his action, his assumption baffled her.

  “Why would I think that?” She might not like the candidate he worked for, but she didn’t doubt Greg’s loyalty to his party. “It wouldn’t be in your best interest for the media to discover Thomas tried to break the rules in your favor.”

  “I agree, but who else could it be?” His arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back in his ch
air. “I didn’t show the check to anybody and I didn’t tell anyone about it, not even my candidate. It’s been locked in my drawer since the day I picked it up from the mailbox. I possess the only key to—” His eyes widened as he seemed to reach the same logical conclusion she had come up with a fraction of a second earlier. “What’s going on here? Is someone trying to discredit my candidate? Or your dead returning officer?”

  “No idea, but I intend to find out.” That investigation fell within her jurisdiction. “Do you have any security cameras outside the building that could have shown who made the drop?”

  “No cameras. I remember thinking I caught a lucky break by arriving at work first that day. I didn’t need to explain that piece of mail to anyone.” His gaze wandered above her head. “I wish I could tell you I glimpsed a shady character hanging around the office, but to be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings. I was preoccupied with the shrinking margins in the latest polls. I still am.”

  A lot had changed in the last few months, including the comfortable lead that his party no longer enjoyed.

  “Would you entrust the check to me?” While she believed someone had forged Thomas’ signature, she couldn’t tell from the photocopy if the check in itself was genuine.

  The door of her office blasted open and Amanda barged in without knocking.

  “I’m going to kill the viper and—” Her gaze locked on the visiting man, Amanda froze. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

  “It’s okay. I was leaving.” Greg stood. “Thanks for making the correction on the nomination papers, Ms. Irwin. I’ll stop by later this afternoon with the original endorsement letter of the party.”

  Liliane watched Amanda eye the man as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

  The ghost of a smile smoothed the sharp angry ridges on her recruitment officer’s face. “That guy has the nicest butt in town.”