An Alpaca Witness

by B L Crumley

  “I would bet money that Patty didn’t do it,” Fern picked up her needles again and began whatever it was she managed to do with them. I’d never been able to figure it out. My several attempts at scarf making had tried even Fern’s patience when I was a child. And Fern never got upset with me.

  “What makes you say that?” I didn’t disagree with my aunt, but was curious to hear her reasoning. If it wasn’t Patty, it had to be somebody, and I was hopeful that any new detail might lead me closer to the actual killer.

  “Well, for starters, I think she actually loved her husband,” Fern said in disbelief. “Don’t ask me why, because I can’t think of anything nice to say about the man other than he had a well-manicured lawn.”

  “Okay, but what about a crime of passion?” I asked. “Just because she loved him doesn’t mean that she didn’t kill him in a jealous rage or something.”

  Fern looked up from her knitting, wearing a baffled expression. “You’re kidding me, right? Does Patty appear to be the type of person to get that worked up over anything, let alone a jealous rage?” She laughed. “There’s not another woman on this earth who I doubt would be willing to put up with Earl. And I think Patty is squeamish around blood.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Around a year ago, I was outside with my goats, when I heard shrieking next door. Earl had accidentally cut himself while doing yard work. He had a gash on his hand. Not terrible, but Patty turned white as a ghost, and had to go in the house to lay down. I think Earl drove himself to the doctor to get stitches.”

  “So, you don’t think Patty would have been capable of bashing Earl over the head with a shovel a few times?”

  “Heck no! I doubt she could hit anything with a shovel hard enough to do any damage.”

  “I think you’re right. Nor do I think Patty is motivated by money.” I explained to Fern about the bank statements I’d gotten… okay, stolen, from Cole’s case file.

  “She seemed genuinely confused, like she hadn’t seen them before, and was completely clueless as to why there would be payments from Russell.”

  Fern nodded her agreement. “A woman who leaves that to her man, trusting that he’s going to take care of her, isn’t going to kill him over an insurance policy.”

  “Especially one that’s only for seventy-five thousand. And even if it was more, I doubt that would matter to her. She seemed very content with their life.” My mind veered back to the payments. Something fishy was going on there. “Do you think Earl found out something about Russell, and then blackmailed him?”

  Fern considered this for a minute. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Both men are kinda slimy. The question is, what could Earl have discovered to blackmail Russell with? And was it enough to kill over?”

  “I don’t know.” I tried to think of possible scenarios that could have led to Earl extorting money from his former partner. Insurance fraud came to mind. I had a strong suspicion that Russell and Earl were in on that together, but of course now with Earl dead, it was easy for Russell to shift all the blame away from himself. But if they were both guilty of that, there needed to be something else.

  The doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ll get that.” I scooted out of the chair and went to answer it.

  It was Cole. And he was… smiling? I stared at him for several seconds, not quite believing what I was seeing.

  “May I come in?” he asked, chuckling.

  Great, I’d been caught gawking. “Yes, sorry, I was just—” I stopped, just short of saying, staring. No need to further embarrass myself.

  “Is Fern here?”

  “Yeah.” I led him to the living room.

  “Sheriff.” Fern paused from her knitting, as she and I exchanged a look. She sensed his good mood as well, and like me, wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “Fern, I have good news,” he began.

  Oh really.

  “The charges against you have been dropped.”

  “What?” Fern and I said together.

  “You’re no longer being charged with Earl’s murder,” he clarified, taking a seat on the sofa.

  I returned to the overstuffed chair and plopped down. “Have you charged someone else?”

  “Not quite. But Patty Henderson is a strong person of interest.”

  “No!” I jumped up from my seat.

  Cole’s eyebrows rose, confused by my reaction. “I thought you’d be happy about this.”

  “Well, I would be, but Patty didn’t do it.” I placed my hands on my hips.

  “Charlee,” Fern chided. “Give Cole a chance to explain.”

  Silently, I sat back down.

  “Drugs were discovered in the trunk of Patty’s car, and her DNA was found on some of the cash recovered from the suitcase in Fern’s barn.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  Cole frowned. “And we found some evidence on the Henderson’s computer that is still being looked into.”

  “I don’t buy it.” I crossed my arms defensively. “Does Patty look like a killer to you?”

  Cole sighed, exasperated. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there, Charlee?” It was a question, but clearly meant as a statement.

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but Fern shooed Moose from her lap and rose from her chair. “You said all the charges were dropped?”

  Cole nodded.

  “Even the charge for the still?” she questioned hopefully.

  Cole chuckled. “Yes, although technically you were never charged with that. DA Hines decided it was best not to move forward with that in light of wrongfully charging you with Earl’s murder.”

  Fern’s fist shot up in the air. “Yippee!” she squealed. “This calls for a celebration.” With that, my aunt scurried off to the kitchen.

  Cole looked back at me, sporting his earlier frown.

  “What?” I asked, feeling undeserving of his frustration. They were about to arrest the wrong person. Again. I wasn’t going to idly stand by and do nothing.

  “Cole,” Fern called from the kitchen. “Would you like some of my special tea?”

  I shook my head.

  “Uh,” he started, before noticing my waving hand.

  “No,” I mouthed, “you don’t.”

  “No, thank you,” Cole answered, his eyes widening with understanding.

  “Fern, Cole and I will take some coffee if that’s all right,” I said cheerfully, despite feeling anything but that inside.

  This had to be a tremendous relief for my aunt. And I was happy for her, but it was overshadowed by the fact that the police were about to arrest another innocent woman. Poor Patty. She’d just lost her husband to a brutal murder, and now she was accused of it.

  Awkward silence descended upon the room. The only thing I had anything to say about was the case, and how the cops had screwed it up again. I had to bite my tongue because the information I wanted to share had been obtained illegally.

  With how much I’d already interfered with Cole’s investigation, my snooping through case files would probably put him over the edge, and I’d find myself arrested. That meant I’d see Preston again.

  He still wanted to take me to dinner, but I’d told him I was busy. Which was true. Between stumbling into more dead bodies and hunting down a murderer, I had my hands full.

  I glanced at Cole, who was looking quite uneasy sitting on the sofa across the room, as he tapped his foot on Fern’s bohemian-inspired area rug. With how straitlaced he was, I imagine he was still shocked Fern had offered him moonshine just after being told she was home free.

  My aunt returned with a beaming smile and a tray filled with mugs and of course, creamer and whipped cream.

  “Just black coffee for me, thanks.” Cole received a cup from Fern.

  Fern set the tray on the end table between our two chairs. With the kno
ts that had begun to form in my stomach, I skipped the whipped cream, and used the sugary creamer sparingly. Well, sparingly for me, since I usually filled my cup about a third full of the stuff.

  After another minute of awkward silence, I finally couldn’t help myself. “Do you really think Patty did it?” I blurted.

  Cole paused, his coffee mug a few inches from his mouth. Lowering it, he said firmly, “Charlee, it isn’t about what I think. I don’t make decisions based on how I feel.” Unlike me, he implied.

  He gave me a pointed look. “I focus on facts. And right now, the facts suggest Patty was involved in her husband’s death. Whether or not she killed him is yet to be determined.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “And,” he cut me off, “you need to stay out of it. I heard you were at the Henderson’s house this morning when Deputy Roberts stopped by to pick her up.” His voice had escalated, telling me I’d really stepped in it this time.

  “I don’t know what I have to do to get through to you that you need to mind your own business. I probably would have arrested you if—” he hesitated.

  “If my dad wasn’t the mayor,” I interjected, flippantly.

  Cole placed his mug on a table beside the sofa and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Fern, thank you for the coffee.” He spoke directly to my aunt, refusing to look at me, before making a hasty departure.

  When the door shut, Fern turned to me. “Well, that could have gone better,” she said dryly. “But he’ll get over it.” She raised her mug to her mouth and took a long sip. “This extra-special tea is especially good today. Are you sure you don’t want some?”

  I shook my head. Extra-special meant extra strong. And despite Cole being royally ticked off with me, I needed to pay Russell Jenkins another visit. With Patty in jail, time was running out.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Shortly after Cole left, I grabbed my purse and coat and headed back to the insurance office. I was almost positive that Russell had something to do with Earl’s death. The monthly payments were too suspicious. Whether or not he killed him, I wasn’t sure. When I arrived at the office, I dialed Fern and slid the phone into my pocket. Just in case something went wrong, I thought it was wise to have backup.

  Inside the small reception area, the secretary barely spared me a glance. “He’s busy. You’ll need to make an appointment.”

  I stepped up to the desk. “I just need a few minutes.”

  She looked up from her computer screen, where she was playing solitaire. “He’s leaving soon and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Tell him that I know about the payments to Earl.”

  The secretary picked up the phone and relayed the information. Her eyes drifted back to mine. “All right, go on back.”

  “Thanks.” I brushed by her, knocking briefly before entering. Russell stood behind his desk and was putting files into a briefcase.

  “Hello, Charlee, what can I do for you?” His tone was sharp.

  I wasn’t put off by his vague question. It seemed he was trying to gauge what I knew, which told me I was close to the mark. “You made monthly deposits to Earl’s personal bank account for over a year. Then three months ago, the payments stopped.”

  Other than the narrowing of his eyes, he gave no outward reaction. But it was enough to tell that he was upset.

  “Why?” I continued. “What reason could you have had to pay Earl such a large sum every month, when you’d already paid him for the business the previous year?”

  Russell’s fist clenched at his side, then relaxed. “Bravo, Miss King. You must think you’re so smart,” he glowered.

  I smiled, in spite of his sarcasm. “Earl was blackmailing you for something, wasn’t he? The insurance fraud, perhaps? You blamed Earl for the lawsuit with Phyllis Weinberger, but she thinks the two of you were in on it together. And I would have to agree with her. But…” I paused for a second.

  “Something doesn’t add up there. It doesn’t make sense that those payments would have been made so long after the initial buyout. And with Earl being involved in the fraud as well, he wouldn’t have much leverage. So, I think it was something else.”

  Russell snapped his briefcase shut, his lethal glare trained on me.

  “If you cheated your clients, maybe you’d cheated your partner. And I bet when he found out, he wasn’t real happy,” I proposed, watching him closely.

  Russell’s face began to turn red.

  Bingo. “You cooked the books, didn’t you?” I accused.

  Russell slammed his fist on the desk. “Earl was an idiot. Couldn’t even use a computer.”

  “Then he made it easy for you.”

  “Darn right he did.”

  “How did he find out?”

  Russell sneered. “He came by one day looking for some old insurance policy when I wasn’t here. He ended up snooping through my file cabinet.” I noticed that it was locked now. Apparently, he’d learned his lesson.

  “And he stumbled upon the actual copy of the business records, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, of all the blind luck…”

  “What did he threaten you with?” I asked.

  “Said he was going to turn me in to the state insurance board. There would have been an investigation, and I would have lost everything.” He threw up his hands.

  “And gone to prison,” I added. “For insurance fraud.” Among other things, I’m sure. “So, you paid him. Then what? Why’d you stop?”

  He snickered. “Got sick of paying that slimy good-for-nothing piece of garbage, and I started following him.”

  Well, that was the pot calling the kettle black.

  “Turns out Earl was dealing drugs. Stupid. The fool would make deliveries in the middle of the day, completely clueless that someone might be watching,” he said with disdain.

  “You threatened him.” The tables had turned, and then it all made sense. Russell had killed Earl. “You wanted your money back, and you knew that Earl would be paid in cash. I’m assuming he wouldn’t pay you since he could still turn you in, and figured you wouldn’t do that with him because then you’d never get your money.

  “So, you followed him to Fern’s barn that night, hoping he would unknowingly lead you to his stash. And you were close. If you wouldn’t have killed him, he probably would have given it to you.”

  Russell burned with rage. “Yeah, I followed him there, and he pulled a gun on me.”

  “So, you beat him over the head with a shovel?” If he was trying to claim self-defense, I’d say good luck getting a jury to believe that.

  “He didn’t give me a choice. The gun misfired, and I wasn’t going to give him an opportunity to shoot me again. Earl deserved what he got,” he spat.

  Wait, there wasn’t a gun in the barn when I found Earl, nor did the police find anything. Which meant that Russell must have…

  “Took you a while to figure that out,” Russell opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a revolver, and pointed it at my chest.

  I started to back up.

  “Stop right there!” he barked. “You’re not going anywhere. Did you really think that I’d just let you walk out of here after we finished our little chat? I know you think you’re something special being a King and all, with your daddy being the mayor. But you’re not. You’re a nosy busybody who should have minded her own business.”

  I swallowed. While I knew that things might go bad, I hadn’t imagined it going quite this badly. I would have never come here had I known the stakes, and I hoped that Fern could hear this and was calling the police.

  Russell tugged what looked like a burner cell phone from his pocket and dialed quickly. “Get over to my office now. There’s a loose end you need to take care of.” He slid the phone back in his pocket, never taking his gaze from me.

  If he
was asking someone else to “take care of me,” so to speak, maybe he didn’t plan to kill me? I had no desire to be shot, although the fate that awaited me didn’t appear to be any better. Unfortunately, having a gun pointed at my heart had paralyzed me, and I was afraid to move. My best chance was that help would arrive. And soon.

  “You framed Patty, didn’t you?” At this point, I figured it was best to keep him talking. “The drugs in her car. That was you.”

  He chuckled dryly. “Well, someone needed to go down for the murder, and everyone in town knew it wasn’t going to be Fern. Except you, apparently. The spouse is usually suspected so I just had to make it look convincing.”

  I thought back to the evidence Cole mentioned earlier. Drugs and something on the computer. Russell must have tampered with it.

  “Like her husband, Patty isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. It was easy. Almost too easy. But I’ll give you credit for your tenacity, Miss King. You stuck with it. Which was stupid and foolish on your part, but you didn’t give up. Even after finding Floyd.”

  “Did you kill Floyd too?” What kind of homicidal maniac was I dealing with here?

  “No,” he said, shuddering slightly. “I don’t like blood.”

  And Floyd’s throat had been slit, reminding me of another man who’d threatened to kill me.

  A door at the back of Russell’s office opened, and a man wearing loose jeans and a baggy black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up hurried in.

  Oh no.

  The man shoved the hood back, revealing a creepy stare and that greasy dark hair.

  Sting Ray.

  Sting Ray raked his leering eyes over me, his mouth forming a sinister smile. “You again. I figured as much.”

  How did they know each other?

  “You killed Floyd,” I accused. “Was that because he talked to me? You didn’t have to do that,” I admonished. Although both men didn’t appear to have a conscience so I’m not sure it mattered.

  “Floyd knew the rules. He broke ’em’,” said Sting Ray, matter of fact. “You knew ’em too.”