by B. T. Lord
Cammie approached. “That’s Jace Northcott, Harold and Pamela’s son. I’m his girlfriend, Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth.”
“Sheriff?” the officer questioned suspiciously. She handed him her ID and badge.
“We’re down from Twin Ponds to spend the holidays with the Northcotts.”
He looked at her identification. Then, to her surprise, he jerked his head up and stared at her in disbelief.
“You’re Cammie Farnsworth?” She nodded, perplexed at his reaction. She was further startled when he suddenly grabbed her hand and shook it.
“Wow, I can’t believe this. I am such an admirer of yours,” he enthused. “I was a huge fan of Eli Kelley’s. When he was killed, it was all over the papers. You did a great job catching his killer. I’ve been following your career ever since.” He leaned over and whispered, “If you ever need another deputy, let me know. I’m your man. Don’t get me wrong. Beachport is a nice town. But nothing much happens here. The murder of Walter Long is the first murder we’ve had in over a century. I wouldn’t mind stretching my investigative chops, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cammie responded politely.
He let go of her hand. “By the way, I’m Officer Dale Beecham, but you can call me Dale.”
“Thanks, Dale,” she responded, bemused that she had an actual fan.
“Tell me, how did you ever figure out who killed that woman a few months ago – um – what was her name? Poppie, Poppie…”
“Beresford,” Cammie answered absently.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Thankfully, they were interrupted when Jace approached.
“Where’s my dad?” he asked. “Has he been arrested?”
“No. The chief is interviewing him in the kitchen. He’s going to want to speak to each of you.”
“Is there any reason Mr. Northcott is being interviewed?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“I’m not at liberty to say. Our investigation–” he began before Cammie cut him off.
“— is still in its early stages,” she finished. They both laughed at the universal cop-speak most investigators used to avoid answering a question they didn’t wish to answer. She turned to Jace.
“Why don’t you sit with your mom and Aunt Pru? They both look terrified. Don’t worry,” she added. “This is normal procedure.”
After Jace left, Cammie turned back to Dale and smiled. She had a feeling he wanted to discuss this case with her and she was right. As soon as Jace sat back down on the sofa, he motioned her to follow him to the other side of the Christmas tree, effectively blocking them off from Jace and his family.
“Since you’re a fellow officer and all, I think I can trust you with what we’ve got so far.”
“Oh, definitely.”
He then told Cammie what she already knew. Harold and Walter had gotten into a shouting match at MacKenzie’s Hardware Store. Unfortunately, he couldn’t provide the details of what the argument was about. “The chief interviewed Mr. MacKenzie and his store clerks in the supply room while I kept order outside. He hasn’t shared his findings with me yet, though I’m sure he will once he finishes up here. The chief is like that. He likes to figure things out in his head before he says anything.”
“Is it true the argument turned physical?” she asked. He blinked at her in surprise. “I know how small towns operate. The townspeople usually know things before the police do. It’s in their DNA to gossip, especially about something as unusual and unexpected as a murder. We were at the supermarket this morning and the murder is already making the rounds.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”
Before he could answer her question, Harold and the chief emerged from the kitchen. Pamela ran to her husband while Cammie and Dale turned towards the officer.
“Chief, this is Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth. Can you believe it? She’s dating Mr. Northcott’s son. Sheriff, this is Chief Elias Knowlton.”
While Dale was tall and well-proportioned and seemed to be in his mid-30’s, Knowlton was in his late 40’s and a bit on the heavy side. He was about Cammie’s height with dark brown hair and dark bushy eyebrows. His light brown eyes took her in as he shook her hand.
“Welcome to Beachport, Sheriff. We’ve been impressed with your work up in Twin Ponds.”
“Please, both of you call me Cammie. And thank you for your kind words.”
“I need to ask Mrs. Northcott some questions, after which I’d like to have a chat with you, if that’s alright.”
“Whatever you need.”
Pamela looked as though she were about to faint. Harold quietly reassured her. “It’s alright, darling. It will all be fine.”
She nodded and followed the chief back into the kitchen. Harold sat where Pam had been seated. He looked exhausted, his eyes hollowed out with fear and tension.
“Is everything alright, Dad?” Jace asked.
His father reached out and patted his knee. “Don’t worry, son. It will all be fine,” he repeated, his worry overshadowing the optimism in his words.
As Cammie took in Harold’s haunted features, the weight of what was going on fell on her shoulders. She had a legal obligation to inform the chief of witnessing Harold coming up the stairs at 2:30 the night of the murder. Yet, if she did that, she could kiss off any chances of having a decent relationship with the Northcotts. And possibly with Jace as well.
I knew it. I knew I should have opted to spend Christmas with Doc. Or Zee. Or just Zee’s magic brownies.
Yet as much as she didn’t want to entertain the idea, Harold could very well be a murderer. And that eclipsed everything, including her future with Jace. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she finally decided to take a wait and see attitude. She’d speak with Knowlton, take the measure of the man and proceed from there. She turned at the sound of Dale’s voice.
“Well, for once the gossips are right. There was some kind of physical altercation between the two men. But I don’t know the details. Not yet anyway.”
“What about the wound? Where was Walter shot?”
“They’re doing the autopsy now, but it looked like a wound to the stomach. There was blood everywhere.”
Not knowing anything more, Dale began to share details about his law enforcement career, which mainly consisted of investigating break-ins, bar fights and the occasional drug bust. She tried to keep her attention on him, but her mind kept wandering to the kitchen where the chief was interviewing Pamela. She hoped he’d extend professional courtesy and tell her what he’d discovered in his interviews at the hardware store. Yet the fact that she and Jace were in Beachport when the murder occurred, possibly under the same roof as the murderer, or that he hadn’t even shared his findings with his own officer didn’t bode well that he would extend that professional courtesy to her.
Pamela’s interview lasted fifteen minutes. She came out alone and told Pru Chief Knowlton wanted to see her next in the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she emerged and informed Jace the chief wished to see him. He too was gone for ten minutes. When he emerged, his face was neutral.
“It’s your turn,” he said to Cammie before returning to the couch where he perched on the arm next to his mother.
“Anything I should know before I go in there?” she asked Dale.
“Don’t lie. The chief can smell a lie a mile away.”
“Well, he won’t have to worry about that. I have absolutely nothing to lie about,” she responded.
Leaving something out isn’t the same as lying, now is it?
After giving Harold and Jace an encouraging smile, she went into the kitchen.
She found Knowlton sitting at the kitchen table, the chair pushed back several feet to accommodate his large, round belly. He indicated that she sit in the chair opposite him. She immediately knew he was trying to establish a relaxed, informal atmosphere to lull his suspects into a false sense of safety and security. She sat down and waited for his first question.
�
��You’re a brave woman, you know that?” he said. Taken by surprise by his unexpected question, she tilted her head in confusion. “It isn’t every woman who would volunteer to spend Christmas with people who plain don’t like her.”
Cammie chuckled despite herself. “They were that obvious?”
“Mr. Northcott was. His wife was a bit more diplomatic about it.” He leaned forward and threaded his fingers together. “When did you arrive from Twin Ponds?”
Cammie answered his questions to the best of her ability. As he fired question after question at her, she grew uneasy. It quickly became obvious, at least to her, that Knowlton was convinced Harold murdered Long. She tested her theory when she asked, “I’ve heard around town how much Long was detested. I don’t envy you this case when there are so many people who didn’t like him.”
Knowlton eyed her silently for a long moment. He then shrugged. “Yeah, he wasn’t well liked. But there’s only one man who physically assaulted him.” His steady gaze told her that he believed she knew exactly who he was talking about.
She now knew it was imperative to withhold seeing Harold on the stairway on the night of the murder. There was something about Knowlton, a surety that wasn’t yet called for that convinced her that if she were to make known what she’d seen, he would arrest Harold right there and then and close the book on this case.
Then you’ll be the hero for solving this before Christmas.
“Well, that’s all the questions I have for now,” Knowlton said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Instead of getting up, Cammie sat back in her chair and feigned an equally casual stance. “I know this is an active investigation and you can’t give me any particulars, but I’m curious about Walter Long. Why was he so hated?” Knowlton raised an eyebrow. She calmly met his gaze. “People talk. I listen. I’m good at it.”
“As you’ve proven.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I was a fan of Eli Kelley. I followed the case closely. I know the roots of the Northcotts’ dislike for you. I have to say, that was a pretty ballsy thing to do with that young man out there.”
“You would have done differently?”
“Hell no. Which is why I know the type of police officer you are.” He stood up. “But I don’t need to remind you that you have no jurisdiction here, Sheriff Farnsworth. This is my town and my case. You’d do well to remember that.”
The warning was crystal clear. But that didn’t stop her from asking, “Do you honestly believe Harold is capable of murder?”
Knowlton’s eyes narrowed. “Push someone hard enough, anyone is capable of murder.”
After securing Harold’s revolver for ballistic tests, Knowlton and Beecham were no sooner out the door than Harold released the tight hold on his emotions. Leaning forward, he covered his face with his hands. “He thinks I did it. He thinks I murdered Long.”
Pamela threw her arm around his shoulder. “Now Harold…”
He shook her off. “I saw it in his face and heard it in his voice.” He threw Cammie a savage look. “I don’t know what it is with you police officers. You’re willing to hang an innocent man in order to look good before the public.” He jumped to his feet. “Well, I didn’t kill him. We had an argument and that was the end of it.”
“Dad, please—” Jace began. But Harold ignored him. He stomped over to Cammie and stuck his finger in her face.
“It’s all your fault. Murder seems to follow you around like bees to honey. You’re a goddamned jinx. If you hadn’t insisted on barging into our Christmas celebrations, I wouldn’t have been in that damned hardware store in the first place. Long would be alive, and I wouldn’t be facing going to jail for a crime I didn’t commit!” He turned on his heel and flew to the door where he grabbed his coat. “I’m going out.” He glared back at Cammie. “Though of course I can’t go far since I’m not allowed to leave town.”
His withering expression was followed by one directed at her by Pamela, who grabbed her coat as well and followed her husband out the door.
Silence descended on the house as Jace’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger.
“And I thought Christmas would be boring,” Aunt Pru finally said.
“He didn’t mean those things,” Jace lamented lamely.
Of course he did. Cammie knew it and he knew it. Even Aunt Pru knew it. Not willing to add any more pain to what Jace was feeling, she came up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know he didn’t. He’s scared and was just lashing out.”
“Humph,” Pru sniffed. “The only way that man and my sister will ever stop hating you is if you solve this mess yourself.” She lifted herself up off the couch. “I’m going to lie down. It isn’t every day I get interviewed by the police and it’s pooped me out.” She walked past them and disappeared upstairs.
“As weird as it is, she’s got a point,” Cammie said as she and Jace took the groceries that had been left by the front door and brought them into the kitchen where they began to put them away.
“How are you going to do that? You have no jurisdiction here.”
“True. But I can still sniff around and see what I come up with.”
Jace hesitated as he absently rubbed his forehead. “Did you – um – did you mention seeing Dad on the stairway to the police chief?”
“No, I did not.” He snapped his head up in surprise. “Your father is right. Knowlton is convinced he murdered Long. He probably wants this wrapped up and put away before Christmas, so he’s not going to be wasting time looking for other suspects.”
“That’s only three days away!”
“Which is why I bet you he’s out there pounding the pavement trying to find as much evidence against Harold as he can to throw the book at him.” Cammie shifted until she was facing Jace. “I need to ask you something and I need you to be truthful with me.”
A wariness came into his eyes. “Alright,” he answered slowly.
“I’ll do what I can to uncover what happened, but you must be prepared if I find out your dad really did do it. Will you be okay with that?”
He wavered for so long Cammie wondered if he’d reject her offer. Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh. “We can’t go on with this thing hanging over our heads. Either Dad did it in a fit of rage or he’s innocent.” He raised his eyes until they met hers. “Do what you need to do.” A sad grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They hate you already. What’s one more nail in your coffin?”
CHAPTER FIVE
They returned to the living room where they sat side by side on the couch. “How bad is your Dad’s temper?” she asked.
“You heard him.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of temper. I’m talking about the type of temper where he loses control. Throws things. Puts his fist through a wall. Goes absolutely apeshit.”
Jace shook his head. “I’ve never seen him do any of those things. He’s raised his voice, yeah. And sometimes said some nasty things. Never directed at my mom or myself, but about people at work. But I’ve never seen him hit anything or throw anything. In fact, he never raised his hand to me once while I was growing up. Even if I may have deserved it.”
Cammie raised an eyebrow. “You? The perfect gentleman? I can’t imagine you ever doing anything that would earn you corporal punishment.”
He smiled. “I learned to channel it out on the ice.”
Jace was the captain of Twin Ponds’ local hockey team, The Night Hawks. He was phenomenal on the ice; it wasn’t often he lost when he and the opposing team got into a heated fistfight during the game.
“Okay, so he has no history of violent behavior.”
“Nope.”
“So why would he physically attack Long in the hardware store?”
Jace shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. It’s so unlike Dad.”
“Officer Beacham told me Long was found under the Christmas tree at approximately 6:30 this morning by a jogger, which confirms what the
checkout woman told us at the supermarket.”
Jace gave a start. “He shared details of the investigation with you?”
“Seems he’s an admirer of my work.” He narrowed his eyes. “He was a fan of Eli’s and followed the case in the papers.” She absently tapped her chin with her fingertip. “We also know Long was considered a real piece of work by the townspeople. I have yet to hear anyone say a nice thing about him.”
As she thought about it, she glanced over at Jace and saw the worry on his face. “What is it?”
“What time did you say you saw Dad coming up the stairs?”
“Two thirty in the morning.”
“This just gets worse and worse,” he groaned. Suddenly, he sat up. “Wait a minute,” he said, hope evident in his voice. “Would Long allow a man who’d assaulted him that morning approach him in the middle of the night? It’s not like Dad could have snuck up on him. Mom was telling me at this time of year, the entire downtown and the Christmas tree stay lit all night. Long definitely would have seen someone approach.”
“That’s something we can check out tonight. We’ll go down there after midnight and see for ourselves. In the meantime, we need to get dressed up.”
“Why?”
“Because you and I are going to apply for a loan at Walter Long’s bank.”
While Jace went upstairs to change, Cammie lingered downstairs, a thought taking form in her mind. It could mean nothing, but with not much to go on, it was worth looking into. She took out of her cellphone and quickly looked up Long’s address on the internet. She then placed a call.
“Twin Ponds Police Department,” Emmy Madachuck answered with consummate professionalism.
Emmy was their 25-year-old receptionist/dispatcher. She was smart, organized and made life easy for Cammie by keeping everything running smoothly and efficiently.
“Hey Em, it’s Cammie.”
“Sheriff! How are things going?”
“Well, I’ve found myself in a bit of a situation. Is Rick there? I need to speak to him.”
Half Native American/half French Canadian, Rick Belleveau was her deputy and right-hand man, proving his worth countless times in all kinds of situations.