by B. T. Lord
She hesitated. She didn’t want to send him into a tailspin, but it wasn’t fair to withhold sharing her concerns. She therefore took a deep breath, let it out and told him about his mother’s calling Long ‘Walt’. He listened silently. When she was done, he sat down on the couch, his face unreadable. She sat down next to him.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Debbi said she thought Long was having an affair with a married woman.” He raised his eyes until they met hers. “You think that woman is Mom, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She ended up shrugging her shoulders. He reached out and pulled her to him. They remained this way until it was time to leave.
They were just putting on their coats when Cammie’s cell phone rang. Pulling it out of her jeans pocket, she saw it was Rick.
“Hey. Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned that he was calling at such a late hour.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I didn’t wake you up or anything did I?”
“No. Jace and I were heading out the door to check over the murder scene. I want to see if the murderer could have hidden in the shadows and taken Long by surprise.”
“Good luck on that. I’m calling because Em and I finished up that search you asked me to do this morning. Knowing you, I figured you’d want the results ASAP.”
“You’re still at the office?”
“Well, we had a bite to eat at Zee’s. Then we got some interesting info from Zee himself. After stopping off at Doug’s to check something out, we ran back to HQ to call you.”
Zee would have been the logical person to go to. He knew everything that had gone on in Twin Ponds going back decades. It was said if he didn’t know about it, it hadn’t happened. Running Zee’s Bar and Grille gave him access to all the goings on in the small county.
Doug MacMunn ran the local Twin Ponds Gazette which chronicled everything in the county’s history since 1895.
This was getting interesting.
“What did he tell you?”
“Can’t say you’re going to like it, Cam.”
It will be just one more item on a long list of things I haven’t liked since I arrived in Beachport.
“Just tell me straight.”
“Okey dokey. Your gut was right again. You ought to have it insured. Walter Long did grow up in Twin Ponds. In fact, he and Jace’s dad were friends back in high school. They even attended the University of Maine together. Then things got ugly.”
“In what way?”
“According to Zee, Walter and Harold fell in love with the same woman.”
Cammie caught her breath. “You mean--?”
“Yep. They both got the hots for Jace’s mother.”
“Whoa,” she whispered softly, unconsciously borrowing one of Rick’s favorite words.
“Whoa is right. There’s been bad blood between them ever since. We asked Doug to look through the Gazette’s archives to see if either Harold or Walter were ever mentioned. Sure enough there was an article written back in 1971 that talked about a fist fight that happened down in Foster’s Park between Harold and Walter. It was right after that Walter left town and never came back. Zee seemed to think he’d gotten a job down in Augusta as a loan officer in one of their big banks.”
“Hold on a minute, Rick.” Cammie looked to Jace. “When did your parents get married?”
“January 16, 1972.”
“Was it a church wedding?”
“No. They got married by the justice of the peace. Why?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” She got back on the phone. “Rick, what was the date of the article?”
“It was January 2, 1972. Emmy emailed you a copy of it.”
“Fantastic.”
“Em is working on drawing up a list of all the places Walter worked at since that job in Augusta. And before you ask, we’re trying to figure out how he ended up in Beachport.”
“You guys are the best.”
“We aim to please. As soon as we find something, we’ll let you know.” He paused. “How’s it going? Any chance you’ll all be singing together like the Whos down in Whoville?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”
“Yeah, we figured. Well, when you and Jace get back, we’ll have a party at Gran’s. She knew Harold and Walter and has been doing some of her mojo to make sure Harold doesn’t accidentally on purpose run you over with his car.”
Rick’s grandmother, a full-blooded Abenaki, was a healer who believed very strongly in the power of herbs, tinctures and the Great Spirit to help her in helping others.
“I appreciate the gesture, but she’s going to have to pay the Great Spirit triple time and a half to repair my relationship with Harold,” Cammie replied.
“Don’t worry about that. Gran has her ways. When you and Jace come back, she wants you two to come to dinner. She’s going to cook your favorite meal and we’ll all dance ‘til we drop.”
“God, that sounds wonderful.”
She hung up and Jace gave her an expectant look.
“Are you sure you want to hear what Rick and Emmy dug up on your dad and Walter?”
He sighed. “I have to know.”
She took a deep breath and shared what Rick had told her. When she was done, he gave her a haunted look.
“Jeez, Cam. I’ve been trying my best not to face up to it. But maybe my dad really did kill Walter after all.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Don’t jump to conclusions, sweetheart,” she warned.
He swiveled on the couch and looked right at her. “What is your gut feeling, Cam? Don’t lie to me or sugarcoat your answer. Do you think Dad is a killer?”
After living with Cammie for four years and watching her solve the cases that had crossed her desk since becoming sheriff of Clarke County, Jace had come to trust her instincts. He now looked into her hazel eyes, waiting to hear words that he didn’t want to hear, but prepared himself to hear nevertheless.
Cammie met his gaze calmly and honestly. “I’m sorry, baby, but I just don’t know. He’s capable of hatred, we’ve seen that firsthand. He does have a temper. And it appears he’s gotten into a physical altercation with Long not once but twice. And both times, it was over Pamela. But whether he could take that hatred and turn it into a lethal weapon?” She shrugged.
“Then if he’s so innocent, why won’t he talk to you and tell you what happened at the hardware store? Why won’t Mom?” Jace continued, his frustration starting to overwhelm him. “I told them about the cases you’ve solved. Maybe they’re afraid you’ll see Dad’s guilty. Or maybe even Mom’s. Maybe she’s the one who killed Long. That’s why they don’t want you involved. They don’t want you to see that my parents are killers.”
He angrily raked his hand through his hair, leaving his bangs askew atop his head. Cammie reached up and gently patted them back in place. She then took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her.
“Rule number one in law enforcement is keeping an open mind. Therefore, take a deep breath and let it out slowly and don’t allow yourself to go crazy.”
He gave her a sardonic look. “Easier said than done.” Yet he did as she asked. When he felt more in control of his emotions, he pointed to her cell phone. “Let’s see what the Gazette article says.”
Cammie opened up her emails, found the one from Emmy and opened the attachment. The two scooted closer together as they read the small screen.
January 2, 1972
On December 30th, 1971 at approximately 9 pm, at the gazebo in Foster’s Park, an altercation took place between Harold Northcott, aged 23 and Walter Long, aged 24. The police were called, and order was quickly restored.
Witnesses claim to have heard Northcott accusing Long of interfering in his relationship with his fiancé, Ms. Pamela Nichols. Speculation is rife that this is not the first altercation between the two men. The bad blood between Long and Northcott can be traced back to their college days when b
oth attended the University of Maine. There, Long met Ms. Nichols and began a relationship with her. However, it wasn’t long before Ms. Nichols broke off the relationship with Long and began to see Northcott, culminating in their engagement earlier last year. It certainly isn’t up to this reporter to speculate, but this looks like a case of the path of true love not running quite smoothly. Both men were fined for disturbing the peace and warned they would be arrested if they fight again.
“Great,” Jace murmured mournfully. “Mom was a femme fatale who had two men fighting over her. Forty-seven years later, they’re still fighting over her. No wonder neither Mom or Dad will talk to you. He and Long have hated each other longer than I’ve been alive.”
Cammie stood up. “Since you’re sort of filling the role of Rick, who’s my official sounding board, you need to keep from jumping to conclusions, no matter how bad it looks. I know it’s tough, but just because there was bad blood between them, it doesn’t prove Harold killed Long.”
“We better hope Knowlton doesn’t find out about this, or he’ll be knocking down the front door to arrest Dad.”
“The fight isn’t over yet.”
“At least we now know what the argument was about.” When Cammie gave him a quizzical look, he added, “The article said Mom dated Long first before dumping him to take up with Dad. I bet Walter never got over it. He probably said something to Dad that set him off and World War III broke out in the paint section.”
“Is he jealous like you?”
Jace frowned. “Who says I’m jealous?” She gave him a knowing look. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little jealous. Can’t help it with a hot sheriff like you.” He gave her a sad grin. “As for Dad, I dunno if he’s jealous or not. I’ve never seen it, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t turn into Tarzan if Mom looks at another guy.”
“We don’t need to worry about that now. Let’s head downtown and scope out the crime scene.”
On the short drive through the increasingly snowy streets, Cammie recognized the signs of depression falling over Jace’s shoulders. This was certainly not the Christmas he’d envisioned when he planned it. Everywhere they turned, it looked worse for Harold and now possibly Pamela as well. This was definitely not a Hallmark Christmas.
Jace parked on Main Street across from the Christmas tree. As they climbed out of the truck, Cammie was struck by the silence surrounding them. The streets and Christmas displays were lit up beautifully, but it was devoid of people and passing cars. As if, like something out of a Sci-fi movie, Beachport had been hit by some sort of apocalypse and all that was left was blinking Christmas lights and empty buildings. There was both a beauty and an eeriness to the scene.
“Wow, it really is deserted around here,” Cammie said as they crossed the street and stood in front of the police tape surrounding the island.
With a light snow falling, the only companions were the plastic Santas, reindeers and elves, as well as the multitude of lights decorating the streets and the tree itself. If they didn’t have a murder investigation hanging over their heads, they would have enjoyed the Christmas card scene. Instead, they both burrowed deeper into their coats as a cold wind came up. The temperatures were already chilly at that time of night, and the wind made it feel colder. It fluttered the police tape, adding a surreal sound to the surreal scene.
“What do you need me to do?” Jace asked as he put his gloved hands under the armpits of his coat.
“You’re going to be my second set of eyes.”
She looked up and noted where the street light shone down on the tree. She then studied the scene before her, her face furrowed in deep concentration.
“Do you see that red flag on the ground beneath the tree?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s presumably where Long fell. We can’t physically go past the tape and risk contaminating the crime scene, so we’re going to need to use our imagination. Do you see how the light from the streetlight falls down on that spot?”
Jace looked up at the light, then down to where the flag was positioned. “It’s all lit up.”
“Exactly. Dale told me there were no drops of blood, no footprints to indicate that Walter staggered away after the attack. Therefore, besides the missing ornaments and cotton batting, this further bolsters our conclusion that he fell where he was shot.”
“Okay. So what are you getting at?”
“Look at the shadows and look to where Long was shot.”
Jace did as she asked. It didn’t take him long to see where she was going with all of this.
“He was looking out over the streets, not at the Christmas tree.”
“There are no shadows where his assailant could have snuck up behind him. If you look to where the flag is, he fell backwards into the tree, taking down the ornaments and decorations with him as he collapsed. He stood in a spot where he was able to keep an eye on his surroundings. If he saw a stranger coming up to him in the wee hours of the morning, in an area that is pretty much deserted, I’m not sure he would have simply stood there without trying to defend himself in some way.”
“So you think Long knew his killer.” Jace’s voice dropped an octave as the fear that it was his father who Walter had been meeting hit him again.
“Let’s suppose for a minute, he was meeting your Dad,” Cammie said. “First, why would they decide to meet in the first place? They’d had a public argument that morning. I’m sure they had no desire to see each other again. Secondly, why meet here specifically? There was always the chance someone would drive by and see them. Thirdly, why would Walter park his car a few blocks away and walk over here on such a cold night when he could have easily parked right across the street? You only do that if you want to make sure no one recognizes your car if they do drive by. Fourth, is that why whoever he was meeting decided to meet so late? So no one would see them?” She shook her head to herself. “It doesn’t make sense that they’d take a chance someone would spot them here. It’s pretty visible, especially with all the lights. I’m sure there were other, less visible areas they could have chosen to have their meeting in.” She looked at Jace. “Is it in your Dad’s personality to try and make peace with someone? To maybe tell them he’s sorry, or to attempt to rectify a situation that got out of hand?”
Jace silently considered her question, his breath swirling in vapors around his face. Finally he grimaced. “Dad doesn’t like to be wrong.”
Crap.
“So you’ve never seen him apologize to someone?” she pressed.
“Maybe to Mom. But that’s about it. He’s certainly never apologized to me for anything.”
Cammie readily guessed what he was talking about. There had been a huge argument between father and son when Jace refused to take up hunting, a sport Harold had always dreamed of sharing with his son. There had been a huge argument between father and son when Jace refused to leave Twin Ponds with them. He’d admitted to Cammie once that Harold had predicted terrible things for him for not moving to Beachport, finding himself homeless at the top of the list. Then, of course, there was his relationship with Cammie. She knew hell would freeze over before Harold ever apologized for treating her so badly, or for admitting that he was wrong over Jace’s choice of companion.
No matter which way she regarded this, it wasn’t looking good for old man Northcott.
And what about Pamela? Was she capable of arranging a late- night meeting in order to murder him? Yet what was the motive? Had the argument in the hardware store been triggered because Harold suspected something? Had Long threatened to spill the beans over his affair with Pamela?
Was Pamela, and not Harold, the killer?
To get her mind off that possibility, she walked around the island, trying to figure out in her mind’s eye the likely scenario of what took place that night. When she was done, she returned to Jace.
“It was a point-blank shot. So either the killer was planning on murdering Long all along, or it was done spur of the moment. We suspect he knew his k
iller. All fingers point to that conclusion. So it all comes down to the reason for the meeting.”
“Well, there are only two people who know the answer to that, and one of them is dead,” Jace replied.
“It all comes back to the argument in the hardware store. Somehow, I need to find out what it was about, and only your mom or dad can provide the answer. In the meantime, let’s get back in the car. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.”
The next morning, Cammie was awakened by her cell phone buzzing near her ear. She groggily reached over to the nightstand and picked it up. Seeing Dale’s name on the display, she immediately sat up. Glancing over to the other bed, she saw Jace silently watching her.
“Sheriff Farnsworth,” she answered.
“Hey, it’s Dale. I’ve got two pieces of information you’re not going to like.”
Cammie’s heart began to hammer. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Just tell me.”
“A witness has come forward saying they saw Harold jogging down Main Street at approximately 1:45 am on December 22nd. That’s within the time frame of Long’s murder.”
“Was he headed towards or away from the Christmas tree?”
“Away.”
Cammie cursed under her breath. “And the second piece of info?”
“We got the phone records. It shows a call made from the Northcott home to Long’s cell on December 22nd at one in the morning.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Not good,” Cammie muttered under her breath.
“I can meet you in a half hour to show you the report.”
“Same place as before?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty deserted this time of year.”
She hung up and jumped out of bed.
“What is it?” Jace asked.
“I need to take a quick shower, then go out for a bit. I’ll let you know when I get back.”
He sat up. “You can’t leave without telling me what’s going on.”