The Morelville Mysteries Collection

by Anne Hagan

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  “Dana, that was wonderful,” Kris said as she pushed away her plate. I got up and rinsed it for her.

  “I can’t take all of the credit. I gave the instructions; Beth did most of the work.”

  “Who knew she’d be able to do that! She won’t spend two minutes in the kitchen with me. Maybe you could give her some lessons?”

  “Oh no, no! I’m no expert. I have a few dishes that I do well and that’s it. I’ve always worked crazy hours or on the road. I’ve never really had a lot of time to spend in the kitchen myself.”

  “I hate to interrupt this little chat but, speaking of work, would you mind filling me in, please?” I walked over to the table and sat back down with the two of them.

  Dana looked from me to Kris and back. “I got a call this morning. Barring any unexpected complications with my leg, I’m to report to the Columbus office on Monday morning at 8:00 AM sharp.”

  “Are you up to that?”

  “I think so and, really, the longer I’m away from work, the worse things get with my last case. Defendants are trying to plead out, attorneys are filing motions...it’s just becoming a big mess. I need to get in there and contribute to the case for Customs before we lose everything we worked so hard for...that I personally worked so hard for, for months.”

  Kris said, “Dana you know we’ll do whatever we can to support you. Let us know; whatever you need.”

  “Hey! Those were my lines!” I looked at my twin and grinned.

  “Well, I was speaking friend to friend but I do think that there’s something here that you two aren’t telling me?” Her tone was questioning but supportive.

  I swallowed. “Dana and I...we...I...” I shook my head. “I don’t even know where to start.” I looked to Dana for help.

  “You go on over there. I enjoy watching you struggle for words once in a while!”

  “Gee, thanks!”

  We all laughed and the tension was released. I turned to my sister, “Kris, while Dana was working her case here in the area, we had to work together a lot. We kinda...sorta..fell for each other.” I let that sink in for a second. When I saw that Kris didn’t look shocked or displeased, I continued, “We talked about maybe dating after the case but, well, she works on the road...did work on the road...” I didn’t know where else to go with my little speech.

  Kris laughed. “I suspected as much. I see the way you two look at each other. I knew it was just a matter of time for you to finally find a woman you wanted to get serious with.” She looked at Dana, “I guess there’s something reasonably good that came out of getting shot after all, isn’t there. You’re off the road for a little while, at least.” She smacked Dana lightly on the arm.

  “True that!” Dana smiled at me with a wicked sort of grin. She turned again to Kris, “Your sister and I would like to spend a little time together and get to know each other. Please understand, we don’t want to make you or the kids uncomfortable in any way. We’ll behave here and we’ll be very discreet, no matter what.”

  “We will?”

  Dana gave me the evil eye.

  “That’s right. Of course we will.” I was just bursting at the seams that Dana and I were on the same page without really having talked about it... Al least, we’re on the same page right now, until I hit them with my news....

  I cleared my throat. “Before we go getting all warm and fuzzy I guess I should talk with both of you about something too,” I waved my hand toward them both, “something that could affect all of this.” I must have sounded pretty serious because they both gave me their full attention.

  “I had a conversation with one of our county commissioners today, Todd Bell.” Kris feigned a cringe. She knew who I was talking about. “He’s asked me, on behalf of the Commissioners, to formally run for Sheriff in a special election to be held in August.”

  “What? Why?” Kris looked genuinely puzzled. Dana was just listening. I briefly sketched the situation for the two of them.

  “Are you going to do it?” Kris asked. I could see the same question in Dana’s eyes.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you two.” I looked at Kris, “You know how much I love being out there on the street, in the mix.”

  She nodded.

  “I won’t get to do as much of that as the ‘actual’ Sheriff. There’s a lot of paperwork, and budgeting, politics and so forth that go with being ‘the man’, so to speak.”

  “And who’s doing all of that stuff now?” Dana finally asked.

  “Well, me...sort of.” I kind of let the political stuff slide most of the time and I do a little bit more leg work than I probably should instead.”

  Dana shrugged and held her palms up, “Why can’t you just keep doing things the way you’re doing them now then? Everything’s running okay, right?”

  I sat back in my chair. “I guess I really hadn’t thought about it that way but I suppose I could. It would be my department for real after all...if I were elected, that is.”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t you be elected?” Kris looked at me like I had said something crazy.

  I shook my head and held out both hands toward Dana but I continued to look at my sister. Kris stared at me, not understanding.

  “Kris, news flash! I’m gay.”

  “Well duh!”

  I tipped my head toward Dana again, “We’ve just told you we want to date and see where it goes. That’s probably not going to fly with the voters of Muskingum County!”

  Kris blew out a breath. “Ah.” I could see the wheels turning in her head for a minute. “Well, personally, I’d vote for you. Dad will too. Mom...who the hell knows, but that has everything to do with you being a cop in the first place and not anything to do with you being gay...”

  “Be serious!”

  “I am being serious! Mel, considering the total lack of qualification of your opponent, I don’t think you being gay is going to be the issue with the voters – not if we make sure they know what a bad choice he’d be for the county and what a great job you’re already doing.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we.”

  “So, you’re saying you think I should run?”

  “Absolutely! Look at it this way: you run and you win then you get to do pretty much what you’re doing now but officially. If you don’t run then you get a good for nothing boss who you’re going to want to kill. You pick!”

  I looked intently at Dana and she stared right back at me but said nothing. Finally, not able to bear not knowing what she was thinking, I asked, “How do you feel about this?”

  “Mel, I think you should do it. You’re good at what you do. Anybody with sense can see that. You need to decide what’s most important to you: time on the street or your sanity and the safety of the county.”

  Kris smiled. “The lady has a point!”

  “And what about us Dana?”

  “We take it easy...” she started to say but, after noticing my look, “or not”.

  I picked up her hand and held it. “I want there to be an ‘us’. The election’s just over two months away. I feel like I’ve already waited weeks!”

  “Okay then. We’ll go ahead with enjoying life and you’ll run for Sheriff.” She paused and looked me in the eye. “If that’s what you want to do, I support that.”

  “Well it’s settled then! Now, how are you going to tell mom?” Kris was the one with the sadistic smile now.

  I slumped down in my chair, “I don’t even know what to do about that.”

  “Oh, I know.” She grinned again. “Dad stopped for gas today. You can tell her Sunday at family fun day.”

  I groaned.

  “Family fun day?” It was Dana’s turn to be puzzled.

  In unison, Kris and I said, “There’s nothing fun about family fun day!”

  Chapter 13 – TGIF...or Not

  Friday, May 30th, 2014

  Friday was hell from the word go. By 8:00 AM, I was ass deep in paperwork after a patrol dep
uty nearly totaled a cruiser in a high speed chase during the wee hours of the morning. He was trying to catch a drunk who took off after my deputy tried to pull him over for going left of center.

  When we finally cornered and caught the loser, we found a trunk full of moonshine in gallon milk jugs. The driver blew a .21, well over the legal limit. He was likely high on his own high octane shine. He was now in the drunk tank sobering up so he could be arraigned on multiple charges but the damage was already done and my head was throbbing.

  The illicit manufacture and sale of moonshine is an ongoing problem in the county that I just can’t seem to get a handle on. The shiners always seemed to be one step ahead of me. ATF is no help at all, despite my pleading with them for information, assistance and resources. They have their hands full deeper in Appalachia and in the south. They aren’t too worried about illegal whiskey in Ohio; not yet. The Ohio Liquor Control Commission meanwhile, is more of a rule making body. They rely on local law enforcement to enforce the laws and bring shiners up for prosecution. The guy we caught, Ethan Funk, was likely small potatoes but, once he was sober, I had lots of questions for him.

  I was so busy taking care of the business of being the Sheriff that I forgot to call Todd Bell about my decision to actually run for the office officially. I was seriously second guessing that decision this morning but it was no real surprise when Holly buzzed me a little after 10:00 AM to tell me that Commissioner Bell was on the phone.

  I put a smile on my face and punched the lighted line button, “Commissioner, my apologies. I really meant to get back to you first thing this morning since we’ve got such a tight deadline.”

  “Well, I’m assuming you’ve decided to run then but that’s not why I’m calling.”

  “Oh, sorry...I thought...well, I guess you’re calling about the cruiser then?”

  “The what?”

  “The cru....Never mind. How can I help you?”

  “I need you to get out to Aiden Quinn’s place ASAP and don’t delegate it. He called me requesting help and I told him you’d be there personally. He has a problem that’s quite sensitive and he doesn’t want it broadcast as radio traffic.”

  “I see. Can you give me a heads up about his problem?”

  “I’ll leave that to him. I’ll be in touch later about what you need to do as far as declaring your candidacy goes.” He hung up before I could respond.

  I resented the Commissioner promising my appearance and assistance personally. He’s not my boss even though I was appointed to the position of Sheriff and not elected but, given that he was asking me to meet with Aiden Quinn, one of the richest oil men in the county, I knew it must be for something serious. By 10:30 I was in my county vehicle on my way to the Quinn Estate.

  The Quinn family has a long and storied history in the county. They were among the original settlers to buy land in the area to build on and to farm. Eventually, when oil was discovered in the area, it was land that the Quinn’s owned that turned out to have some of the richest, deepest pockets of the black gold. Over the years the family tapped well after well and parlayed the profits from each into more land and more wells.

  Aiden Quinn is the current heir to the bulk of the Quinn family holdings plus he owns wells in his own right too. Far from being the epitome of the ‘I’m better than everyone else’ rich snob stereotype, he’s a roughly 60 year old man who worked his way to realizing his fortune. At the behest of both his father and his grandfather, he got his start in the oil fields working alongside the hourly hands and he hasn’t forgotten where he came from. I could hardly resent the man for that.

  I drove along and tried to enjoy the beautiful day for what it was. Spring had definitely sprung. The season sure didn’t know that my day had started out in the toilet.

  The Quinn estate was several miles southeast of Zanesville, almost back home to Morelville. Quinn property butted up against a northwestern edge of the Blue Rock State Forest. Much of their land was heavily wooded rolling hills. They’d logged out trees only where they’d cut access roads for wells. Over the years, most of those roads had been replanted, leaving only barely there trails for roughnecks on quads to go out and service the wells when needed.

  There was a mansion Aiden’s grandfather had built near the front of the Quinn property but barely visible from the road given the hilliness of the area. Since the death of his grandfather, Aiden’s parents now lived in the main house. They were well up there in years. Aiden had built himself a slightly smaller home and office set up on another part of the family compound.

  I’d been to the bigger mansion for political soirees that my former boss, Sheriff Carter, had prodded me into attending. The Quinn’s backed a lot of local politicians and Carter had certainly been that, more than he had ever really been a Sheriff. I’d never been in Aiden Junior’s own home.

  Maybe if this goes quickly I can swing by the house and have a quiet little lunch with Dana before I head back to the office and all of the hullabaloo there...

  A woman answered my knock almost before I lowered my hand. She stepped to the side as she swung the door open so I could enter. Before I could say a word, she said, “Mr. Quinn is expecting you Sheriff. This way please.”

  I followed her as she moved quickly through the entry foyer of the large but not necessarily formal home. I could see that Aiden Quinn had good tastes but they leaned toward the more practical, functional side. That seemed to be in keeping with what I knew about the man.

  We entered what appeared to be a study or even a small library room. There was no desk, only walls lined with full bookshelves and a couple of comfortable chairs set on either side of an antique wood table. My greeter directed me to go ahead and have a seat and then she discreetly disappeared. Moments later, the man himself strode in.

  I stood up.

  “Sit, sit. How are you Sheriff?”

  “Just fine Mr. Quinn, and you?”

  “Aiden, please. I hope you don’t mind meeting in my study. We won’t be disturbed in here.”

  “This is lovely.”

  “Thank you. I know your time is valuable Sheriff. I won’t beat around the bush.”

  I took out my notebook and looked at him expectantly.

  “I have a few staff employees that go out and service my wells and so forth. Most of them have been with me for some time. They’ve earned my trust and they’re well compensated for their efforts. Almost a year ago, I want to say in June of last year, I had a guy leave my employ.”

  At my raised eyebrow, he continued, “Oh, it was on good terms. He got an opportunity to work in the Gulf and he took it. He’s a bit younger than most of my men and he has a young wife and baby. I can’t match offshore rig money.”

  “I see.”

  “I attempted to replace him with some even younger blood that came highly recommended but that just didn’t work out. Round about September, I had to let him go. The kid – young man – was doing more poaching off of my land than he was working and I believe he was poaching out of Blue Rock too.”

  “Was any of that that reported?”

  “My assistant worked with the county game warden on it. I don’t know if anything ever came of it. I know I made it pretty clear that he wasn’t welcome back on my land or in my employ. I gave him two chances. When he was caught the second time, I was finished with him.”

  I hardly believe I’m here about poaching... “Can I get his name please?”

  “Sure, sure. It’s Levi Jones. Do you know him?”

  “No, I don’t.” I wrote the name in my notes. “About how old do you think he was?

  “I’d put him 22-23. He was an employee so Maureen, my assistant, will have his file.”

  “Anyway, after I let Jones go, I was hurting for help. One of my other guys took extended summer leave. I called up a service I use when I’m setting up rigs and tapping new wells to see if they could recommend anyone. They suggested I contract with a guy by the name of Dallas Granger.”

  “I do know him.
He’s been around awhile. Good man, as far as I know.”

  “Yes, yes, very good. He’s still under contract with me. He works all of the wells the kid was supposed to keep up with but couldn’t.”

  “What seems to be the problem then?”

  “Well Sheriff, these past couple of weeks he’s been finding things and hearing things out in the far reaches of my property and a couple of days ago, he caught a glimpse of something that piqued his curiosity.”

  “Let’s start with the first part of that statement. What’s he found?”

  “Footprints here and there leading deeper into Quinn property that shouldn’t be there, bits of, for lack of a better term, ‘paraphernalia’ that would be used in things like making ‘shine and who knows what all else; that sort of thing. And, for the last couple of weeks, out at one of my deeper woods wells, he’s been hearing voices and other sounds off in the distance. Someone is out there doing something.”

  “He hasn’t gone looking for them, has he?”

  “No. I’ve asked him to play it safe but to keep me posted. When he was out to service a well that’s a little closer in a few days ago, he thought he saw some movement headed the direction of where he heard noise coming from before – two guys on quads. He wasn’t close enough to get a good look at them though. Late yesterday afternoon he was out to service the deepest wells and he could see smoke – steam – something rising from the same target area.”

  “Ah. Have either of you spoken to ATF or the Liquor Control Commission?”

  “I haven’t and I’ve asked him not to. I wanted to keep this quiet as far as the feds are concerned to protect him. If ATF starts snooping around, it will take them forever to build a proper case, meanwhile my guys lives are in danger. The Commission is no better. They don’t do field work.

  My sentiments exactly!

  These people may be operating on my land though or on land just adjacent to it. Worse, they might be defiling Blue Rock with this. I want them stopped!”

  “Gotcha! But, let me ask; since you brought him up, do you think Levi Jones has anything to do with this?”