The Morelville Mysteries Collection

by Anne Hagan

  Dana knew the road was a public one but she also knew that all of the homes on it and the next one over that connected with it were homes of Chappell family members. She’d learned that in the case that originally brought her to this area.

  Making a quick decision, she bypassed the left the runner had taken and took the next one. She drove quickly up the road at just over the legal limit, turned left at the far end of it and came south down the lane the runner had turned north onto. About a third of the way back to the state route, she spotted his car in the driveway of one of the smaller homes in the grouping of Chappell mini-mansions.

  Dana made a quick mental note of the house number and then continued back out to the state route and home.

  ###

  The house was dark when Dana walked in after 11:00 PM. She tried to tiptoe but, stifling a painful yelp, she resorted to walking slowly and softly across the hardwood floors of the creaky old house.

  Once she was in the den, she closed the door and headed straight for Mel’s desk and her laptop. She pulled up the county auditor’s website and tapped the address into the property search look up. The house the runner went to belonged to Stanly Chappell Jr. The name was only vaguely familiar to her. A Stanley Chappell Sr. had originally been named a defendant in the case that brought her to the area but he was never charged with anything.

  She sat staring at the computer screen, thinking, for several long minutes. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of a cell phone buzzing in Mel’s room just above her head. Mel didn’t answer it.

  Moving back into action, Dana tapped several keys and pulled up a sports betting site. She skimmed through it for a couple of minutes and made some notes then she erased her activity and shut the system down.

  Taking out her cell and the scrap of paper Mick had given her, she called the bookie herself. She steeled herself as she waited for him to answer.

  “Yeah?”

  “This is 67548,” she said then paused.

  “Go ahead; I ain’t got all night.”

  “Cleveland over the Astros tomorrow?”

  “One and a half on Cleveland.”

  “I’ll take it for two fifty.”

  “That it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hit up Angel Eyes at The Boars Head tomorrow night for all your stuff.”

  “Can I...can I, have um, him hold it tonight?”

  “If you hurry up and catch her.” He hung up.

  Dana skulked out of the house and back into her car. She pulled out slowly and headed the short distance back to The Boar’s Head.

  When she reached it about ten minutes later, she scratched her head in wonder. She hadn’t noticed it as she drove by earlier but the run down old bar was really hopping and the usual contingent of motorcycles wasn’t parked outside.

  Circling the place twice, she finally found a space she could squeeze her compact sedan into.

  A band was playing inside, the music wafting out the open door. A bouncer took the time to ID her and stamp her hand before she was admitted into the space. Inside, the dance floor was jammed and the tables were packed. She looked around with a look of pure shock in her eyes.

  A bar stool opened up on the near end and Dana slid on it before anyone else could claim it. Two female bartenders worked the crowd like pros from the center of the long bar. Dana tented a twenty and placed it on the edge of the pour rail.

  Several minutes passed as the two women worked through the line but then one of them glanced her way and moved quickly to her.

  “Sorry about your wait. What can I get you?”

  “I can’t believe how busy it is in here! This place is always dead when I go by.”

  “New owner,” the bartender said jerking a finger over her shoulder toward a woman standing at the other end of the bar keeping a watchful eye on the crowd. “She’s been working pretty hard to clean the place up.”

  “Get me a Blue Moon draught.”

  “Coming up.”

  When the beer came, Dana handed the woman the twenty, “I’m looking for a woman who goes by Angel Eyes. Can you help me?”

  “Sorry. I’m pretty new here.”

  “It’s okay. With a nickname like that it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out, right?”

  The bartender smiled and returned her change. Dana pushed half of it back to her, “Thanks anyway.” She raised her beer to the woman’s retreating back.

  Looking around, the bar owner’s countenance caught her eye. The woman was striking in a sophisticated sort of way. Dana studied her closely as the woman continued to keep her own eyes trained in the same general area across the crowded bar.

  Eventually, Dana attempted to follow her gaze which seemed to alight in an area just past the dance floor.

  A young woman was sitting at a table where other people came and went. Her back was to the bar but it was she the owner seemed to be watching. Dana started to watch her too. After a time, she was sure it was the runner she was there to look for.

  Dana looked around at the rest of the room. The runner’s table was close to the far corner but not out of line with the ladies room. Deciding a visit there was in order, she picked her way through the crowded place and past the young ladies table.

  An older man was sitting with her when she came upon them, his back to Dana as she passed nearby. The woman was looking directly at him and speaking in a low tone. Dana couldn’t hear the words but she couldn’t mistake the eyes. She’d found another of Chappell’s runners. Now she needed to get out of the bar while the getting was good.

  Chapter 21 – Place your Bets

  8:20 AM, Monday, August 25th, 2014

  I was finally catching a break. The Columbus crime lab reported that the cell phone taken from Olivia’s residence held a recorded voicemail message from the Toyota service department on the Friday morning before her death telling her that her car was ready.

  There were also texts originating from a phone registered to Nevil Harper Senior late Friday afternoon and again on Saturday morning asking her if she was coming for it. A final text message Saturday afternoon told her that he’d ‘bring the car by later’. It’s time to track down Nevil Jr.

  I called the dealership and waited while they put me through to the service department.

  “Service; Ted speaking.”

  “Ted, this is Sheriff Crane. Are you the service manager?”

  “Yes ma’am, how can I help you?”

  “Is Nevil Harper Jr. at work today?”

  “No ma’am, he called off sick.”

  “He did?”

  “Well, not exactly. I believe it was his mother that called for him ma’am.”

  “I see. Is the A5 he was working on before still there by chance?”

  “No ma’am Nevil delivered that on Friday during his lunch break.”

  “How’d he get back to the shop?”

  “Um, well, I dunno. I left for the day around the same time. I wasn’t here by the time he would have been back. Do you want me to ask around?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for your help.”

  “Is he in some kind of trouble? I mean, he’s a good kid and really good with the cars and the customers...”

  “I’m just trying to get in touch with him. Again, thanks for your help.” I hung up, grabbed my hat and left for the Harper homestead.

  The Harpers had a 140 acre spread or so in the next township over from the one Morelville was a part of. They weren’t wealthy but their land butted up against land owned by the Chappell’s and across from that owned by the Quinn’s, two of the richest families in the area. The Chappell’s made their money in dairy farming and race horses and the Quinn’s in oil. The Harper’s did neither. They scraped by raising corn for the ethanol producers and raising gardens and livestock for their own consumption.

  I drove onto their hardscrabble farm in my county SUV. The homestead area was neat and tidy and free of most adornment other than a small patch of flowers already
wilting in the morning heat. The place reminded me of an Amish spread, save the big motorized harvesting equipment parked nearby.

  Mama Harper met me at the door, “Did Nevil call you and ask you to come out Sheriff?”

  “Nevil?”

  “Why, my husband.”

  “No Mrs. Harper; he didn’t.”

  “You’re not here about Junior. then?”

  “I am here to see Nevil Jr. Is he here?”

  “No,” she practically wailed. “He’s gone. He left for work on Saturday and he never came home.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

  “Have you spoken to him at all?”

  She sniffled, “He called me early this morning and told me to call him off work, he’d explain the next time he saw me and then he hung up. He wouldn’t say when he was coming home. He got in an argument with his father last week and they weren’t speaking. Neither would tell me why. I don’t know what’s going on!”

  Not being prepared to deal with her hysterics just yet and figuring he was probably on the run, I asked the most logical thing in my mind at the time, “Can I see his room ma’am?”

  “His room? Why?”

  “I need to get an idea of whether he left intentionally, like did he take clothes with him and other items.”

  Her eyebrows snapped together and she snarled at me, “Junior wouldn’t just leave us for long Sheriff. He’s probably just waiting for his father to cool off. He’s a good boy!”

  She flip flops like a seedy politician... “I just need to cover all the bases Mrs. Harper if you want me to find your son.”

  Several beats passed as I waited but then her mouth softened just a little and she gave in, “Come this way.” She led me upstairs and opened a door at the front of a narrow hallway.

  I peered into a fairly good sized room with two full beds.

  “He shares this room with his brother Noah.”

  The room was sparse and tidy like the areas I’d seen downstairs had been. “Which side is Junior’s?”

  Mama Harper pointed to the left. “They share the closet over there though. It’s the only one.”

  Opening the closet door, I came face to face with a packed tight row of plaid and flannel shirts and several pairs of blue jeans. Boots and a few pairs of other shoes littered the floor of the tiny space. If he took anything out of here, there’s no way to tell...

  Stepping over to his dresser, I pulled open the shallow top drawer. There was a little stack of boxers and several pairs of mated socks. The next drawer down held tee shirts, all neatly folded. “He’s a very neat kid.”

  Elizabeth Harper blushed, “He has a job. He doesn’t have time for all of that. I take care of it for him...for all my children. The others are busy here on the farm.”

  “Where are your husband and the other children right now?”

  “Nevil’s in the main barn working on something to do with the combine. He’s mad because that’s the stuff Junior usually does. I wouldn’t go bothering him right now. The other children had best be about their chores.”

  Nevil Senior was standing at a wide, low work bench in the main barn right where his wife said he’d be. He was wrenching on what appeared to be some sort of gear box and cursing at it when I walked in.

  “Mr. Harper?”

  He didn’t turn to me but kept to his task.

  “Mr. Harper, I need to talk to you.” I came up alongside of him. His eyes flitted to me and then back to the box.

  “It’s important that I find your son.”

  “I ain’t stopping you.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “How would I know that? I ain’t known what that boy was all about ever since he up and decided he wanted to be a mechanic and not a farmer. Don’t understand him at all.”

  “When did you see him last?”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy here? I’m having to do work he should be here doing. Why don’t you check with that whore he seems to think he’s in love with. He’s probably with her.”

  “Who would that be Mr. Harper?”

  He looked at me askance and then turned back to his work, “Name’s Olivia. Junior told me she’s pregnant. She told him it’s his. My boy didn’t go getting’ no damn woman that probably sleeps with everyone around with a dick pregnant.”

  I tried to keep my cool with him but my temper was beginning to bubble over, “When did you talk to Junior about the baby Mr. Harper?”

  “I don’t recall,” he spat. “Thursday? Friday, maybe. We had words. He insisted the baby is his. Don’t think he’s darkened my door since then. I’m sure he went straight to her. I need to get back to my work. Go talk to the woman that’s trying to pin this on him.”

  “Mr. Harper, ‘the woman’, Olivia Stiers is dead.” I waited for his reaction but he didn’t even look up at me. “I have reason to believe that your son was the last person to be with her.” I waited.

  This time he reacted, “Get the hell off of my property! Get out of here right now!”

  2:35 PM Monday

  I ran home and changed out of my uniform. Now I was sitting in my sister’s car a couple of blocks up from Priscilla’s apartment hoping to glimpse her coming strolling down the sidewalk the other way from her Monday classes. Please, let her have a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule and no labs on Monday...

  I’d had a late Saturday night text from Barb saying the female ‘bookie’ had been back working her sports book at The Boar’s Head. I needed answers and, so far, Priscilla had been the only one who knew anything.

  Relief washed over me when I saw her walking towards her place. I got out of the car and paced myself to meet up with her before she could turn up her own walk. I wanted our meeting to look casual to anyone observing.

  I came upon her just before she made the turn at her driveway. She peered at me through her dark sunglasses at first but then smiled and I smiled back.

  “I recognize you. You’re Angie’s friend, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I finally got settled into the neighborhood...just out taking a walk, getting my bearings now.”

  “It’s not a bad neighborhood. I recommend Stauff’s if you’re a coffee drinker. It’s right around the corner,” she tipped her head back over her shoulder. Holding up a bag, she said, “Good sandwiches too. Would you like to join me? They’re huge.”

  “That’d be nice. Thank you!”

  Once we were safely inside again, I grinned at her, “You improvise well young lady.”

  “Thanks. Lots of training; I was in the drama club all through high school. It was sort of my outlet for...things.”

  She looked me over as she took her late lunch out of the bag. “There really is plenty; would you like some?”

  “No, but thank you. I ate. Honestly, I’m here to pick your brain again.”

  “I’m not sure what else I can tell you that would possibly be of use to you.” We took seats at her little dining table and she began to eat.

  “There’s been another death Priscilla; Olivia Stiers.” I watched for her reaction and was surprised to see that her expression seemed more puzzled than on guard or any other sort of thing.

  “Who was she?”

  “You didn’t know her?”

  “Can’t say that I did. You said Stiers, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve heard that name before but I don’t think I know anyone or of anyone in the family. I want to say I’ve seen it on the side of a truck or something.”

  “You probably have. Olivia’s father owns Stiers Asphalt Paving, a big paving contractor in the area. They’ve been working out off of I-70 lately.” I watched her closely as I continued to question her, “Do you drive Priscilla?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m allotted one of the two bays in the detached garage since I rent here. I just take the bus back and forth to school...saves on wear and tear and the student pass is cheaper than gas.”

  “I see.”

  “What does Olivia’s death have to do
with JD’s?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. Olivia and JD were supposedly dating.”

  “I’m sorry but, really, I’ve never even heard of her before just now.”

  I rubbed my temples. “This case is so...so...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’ve got nothing to go on but a second death now and that may or may not be related.”

  Angie seemed surprised by my little outburst.

  Backpedaling, I apologized, “I’m sorry. I just don’t know where to go from here.”

  “Did you find JD’s accomplice?”

  I nodded, “Yeah, half dead himself. His name is Sterling Moon. He was beaten to a pulp by someone and then left for dead.” I scanned her face but it showed what appeared to be concern more than anything else. “He no sooner got out of the hospital than someone tried to kill him again in a drive by shooting.”

  “That guy?” She was incredulous. “I saw that on the news. I’d never heard of a drive-by in Zanesville before.” Her reaction seemed truly genuine.

  “So, I take it you don’t think his beating or the shooting were ordered by the bookie?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “No, I don’t. JD owed a lot of money. The bookie still wants it back and he’d want to take it out of Sterling’s hide to get it since he was a part of the scam. JD’s beating may have been ordered but I don’t think this other one was and I’d be willing to lay odds myself that the drive-by wasn’t.”

  ###

  Moon was still in ICU but he was awake and alert enough to talk to me.

  “I want protection!”

  “Mr. Moon, at this point, I don’t even know who or what we’d be protecting you from. I need a little help here.”

  The bruised and battered man who’d nearly died twice lying before me in the bed still had a look of defiance on his face. I have to break him...

  “They’re crazy and I need to get away from them!”

  “Who’s crazy?”

  “Whoever was after JD, that’s who! Now they’re after me!”

  “Do you know them?”

  “Hell no, I don’t know them!”

  Despite the claim, I picked up on a slight hitch of hesitation in his voice. “Why did you leave the hospital?”