Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries)

by Barbara E Brink

  Blake rubbed a hand over his chin. “Let’s give the rest of the house a thorough search. You take Sadie’s bedroom and bath. I’ll check out the living room and kitchen. If this man exists, there must be a trace of him here somewhere.”

  <<>>

  Shelby pulled open the bottom drawer of Sadie’s dresser. Sweaters and jeans were folded in two piles. The trouble was, the patterns on the sweaters looked much too drab and masculine for the woman she’d glimpsed in those photographs. That Sadie dressed in floral, pastels, and multiple shades of pink. The clothes in her closet testified to the fact that her tastes hadn’t changed much in the last decade.

  She shook out one of the sweaters and checked the tag. She didn’t recognize the brand but the size large was much too big for the petite woman police records had described as five-foot two inches tall and a hundred three pounds. Besides, no middle-aged woman with any self-respect would wear brown and yellow horizontal stripes. It was not only ugly but would add ten pounds to her figure.

  When she pushed the drawer she heard the crinkle of paper and it refused to slide properly. Something was stuck under the runners. She lifted the drawer completely out and set it on the bed. An envelope, once taped securely to the underside of the drawer, had been shoved all the way to the back. She pulled it out and stared down at a taped up packet with a big rip in the end. It was stuffed with cash. Mostly twenty-dollar bills, but a few fifties and some tens.

  She stood, running her finger over the edge of the bills. It had to be a few thousand dollars. Without looking up, she called out to Blake, “I’m guessing the police didn’t actually search this place.”

  “What, babe?” Blake yelled back from the kitchen.

  She turned around and smacked into a big man wearing full camouflage gear. Luckily, his coat and bibs were thickly quilted or she might have bruised her face against his rock hard chest. Before she glimpsed more than malevolent eyes glaring at her through a black facemask, he snatched the envelope from her hand, hit her so hard she smashed into the dresser mirror shattering glass, and charged down the hall.

  From her crumpled position on the floor between the dresser and bed, she heard a scuffle, a heavy thud and more breaking glass. When she heard the back door open and slam shut, she moved to sit up, but the pain in her head was blinding.

  “Shel! Shel! Where are you?” Blake was beside her moments later, cradling her head in his lap. He had his phone out and was punching in 911. He was shouting, or maybe it only sounded that way because her head was split open. She opened her eyes and saw blood smeared across his cheek.

  An engine revved in the backyard and Blake’s head jerked up, but he didn’t move to pursue the intruder. She groaned and tried to move off his lap so he could get up. “Go. Catch him. He’s getting away.”

  “He already got away. That’s a snowmobile. Besides, I wouldn’t leave you like this.”

  “But…”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Shel. Lay still.”

  She felt dizzy and loved and horribly nauseous, and then everything went black.

  <<>>

  When she woke in the hospital, Blake was sitting beside her bed in a very uncomfortable looking vinyl covered chair. His eyes were closed but she could tell he wasn’t asleep. His fingers tapped a steady beat on the metal arm of the chair, and he was shaking his right leg the way he did when he was worried.

  “You wear your heart upon your sleeve, sir,” she whispered softly.

  He was instantly out of his chair, leaning over her, planting a kiss on her forehead. “You scared the living daylights out of me. Do you know that?” He ran a finger lightly down the side of her cheek.

  “Now you have a tiny inkling of what I felt when you got shot.”

  He pressed his lips together, his eyes saying what words could not. Clasping her hand, he lifted her fingers to his lips. “I’m sorry. I should have searched the entire house before…”

  “You couldn’t know. We both thought it was empty.”

  “If I’d just walked around to the backyard…”

  “Stop beating yourself up. You couldn’t anticipate a mad man hiding behind a shower curtain for that long and making his escape on a snowmobile. After all, you’re not James Bond.”

  He blew a laugh through his nose. “Does that mean I don’t get the girl?”

  “No, it means you have to keep this girl. Forever.”

  “Sounds like a sweet deal.”

  The door swung open and a nurse entered. She smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel like someone smashed me into a dresser. What’s the damage?”

  The nurse took Shelby’s blood pressure while she talked. “You have a concussion, some cuts and bruises, but your X-Rays came back fine. Dr. Matthews said he’ll be by in a couple hours to check on you. Would you like to order dinner?”

  Shelby shook her head before realizing movement wasn’t such a good idea. She tried not to grimace. “No, thanks. I’m not staying the night.”

  “Shel.” Blake put his hand over hers. “If the doctor thinks you should stay the night, then that’s what you’ll do.”

  “But…”

  He bent and silenced her with a kiss. “No buts. You rest and I’ll be back later to hear what the doctor says.”

  “Where are you going?” Panic knotted her stomach. She hated hospitals. The smells. Bright lights at all hours of the night. Incessantly beeping machines.

  “I rode in the ambulance with you, so one of the officers is going to give me a lift back to the house to get the Bronco. They also want me to give them a full statement about what happened and why we were there.” He looked up at the nurse. “Take good care of my life.”

  “You mean your wife?”

  “Exactly.”

  <<>>

  Blake headed down the hallway toward the waiting room. He’d left his cane in the truck at Sadie’s house but wished he had it now. After sitting for so long his leg was cramped and aching. He tried not to limp but the pain was high after being slammed to the ground earlier so it was either limping or a permanent grimace on his face. He plastered a pleasant smile on his lips for the meeting.

  In his absence, two plainclothes detectives had replaced the patrolmen. He could spot a cop a mile away and these were seasoned cops. Both appeared to be mid-forties, both wore wool trench coats and both seemed to be enjoying the complimentary hospital coffee and cookies reserved for family and friends of patients.

  That’s where the resemblance ended.

  The female detective stood first. Her coat was unbuttoned and a red scarf looped around her neck matching red and black running shoes on her feet. She tossed her cup into the trash and pulled her shield out of an inside pocket. “Detective Jackson, and my partner Detective Booker,” she said, tipping her head toward the man beside her. She was taller than him, with piercing brown eyes and a short cropped Afro. Her handshake was firm and abrupt as though she couldn’t wait to get to business. “You must be the P.I. who broke into our murder victim’s home and possibly tainted a crime scene.”

  “Really? That’s the way you want to play this?” Blake crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “My wife was assaulted and you…”

  Detective Booker’s patience had apparently run out when the plate of cookies was depleted. He opened his notebook. “What were you doing at…” he turned the page and refreshed his lack of memory, “1435 W…”

  “You know exactly why we were there. I already gave a statement to the officers at the scene. We were hired by Pete Dugan to clear his name. Our client was given a key to the residence and he passed it on to us. There was no breaking and entering and there was no crime scene inside. You’d know that if you actually followed normal avenues of investigation instead of trying to close a case without doing the work.”

  “Mr. Gunner, you are treading on thin ice,” Booker warned, his wide pug nose flaring. He slipped handcuffs out of his pocket and smirked. “We can take you in for questioning or you can start co
operating.”

  “I don’t think there’s any need for that.” Weariness edged Jackson’s voice. She gave her partner the look that said step away. Booker shoved his cuffs back in his pocket, cast one last glare in Blake’s direction and shuffled to the hallway where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Jackson waved a hand toward the chairs. “Mind if we sit? I was in a half marathon yesterday and my legs are killing me.”

  He settled into a chair across from the detective and waited. He was familiar with good cop/bad cop but angry cop/tired cop was a new one. They obviously didn’t know his past or they wouldn’t be trying to pull his chain. He raised his brows. “Are you going to put out an APB on the man who knocked my wife unconscious or not?”

  “We’ll get to that,” she said, stretching her long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “First I think we need to clear the air. My partner and I have a rather full caseload right now and I apologize for his abruptness. He’s tired. We’re both tired.” She yawned widely, proving the point. “In fact, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in two weeks. My daughter and her baby have been staying with me and the poor thing has colic. Up all night, crying and fussing. I feel like one of those walking dead characters.”

  “Sorry to hear about your sleep deprivation.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Is she all right?”

  “A few cuts and bruises and a slight concussion, but she’ll be fine. They’re keeping her overnight as a precaution.”

  She nodded, her lips thinned into a straight line. “Good. When she’s feeling up to it I’d like to question her too.”

  “I’m sure she’d be more than happy to oblige. Now do you mind if we get down to business? The more time you waste asking questions I already answered earlier, the less chance you have to find the man who assaulted my wife.”

  “Can you give me a description?”

  “About six-foot four. A big guy. He was wearing camo winter gear, so it’s hard to tell just how heavy he was, but I’d guess around two forty. When he knocked me down it felt like a sledgehammer, so you can imagine the trauma my wife went through. He was wearing a black ski mask so we didn’t get a look at his face, but I’m fairly certain he was Sadie’s boyfriend. He was staying there. Eating. Sleeping in her bed.”

  Her brows pulled together forming deep grooves between her eyes. “What boyfriend? No one we’ve talked with has mentioned a man in her life. Maybe this guy was just a squatter. He read about Sadie’s death in the paper and decided to take advantage of an empty house.”

  “Detective Jackson, this is not my first rodeo.”

  “No. I understand it’s actually your second.” The hint of a smile twitched at her lips.

  “That’s right. Second case for Double Barrel Investigations. But I worked homicide for eight years in Minneapolis. So I happen to know a bit about murder.”

  She shifted in her seat, pulled her legs under her chair and leaned forward, open suspicion reflected in her eyes. “Why did you neglect to inform the officers at the scene that you were a detective?”

  “I didn’t know there was a state requirement to divulge my past employment records when I called 911.”

  She didn’t seem amused. “Then why tell me now?”

  “To assure you I know what I’m doing. I would never compromise a crime scene. There was no evidence that Sadie Dugan was attacked in her home. There was, however, evidence that she had a man living with her.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Are you telling me no one has searched her house since the body was found?”

  She shot a glance at her partner still waiting in the hall. He was staring at his cell phone now. “We were told to wrap this murder up quickly. I don’t know how things work in the city but around here we’re spread as thin as melted butter. The sheriff had us out searching for a crack house in the middle of nowhere. Right now, busting drug dealers is a higher priority than catching a killer.” She lowered her voice. “Elections are coming up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You said he knocked you down. Then what happened?”

  “He escaped on a snowmobile. He had it parked behind the house. I ran to the bedroom to check on my wife and found her on the floor, bleeding. I called 911 and stayed with her until they got there.”

  “You didn’t try to pursue?”

  He shook his head. “No point. I didn’t have a snowmobile.”

  “Why do you think this intruder was the victim’s boyfriend or that she even had a boyfriend?”

  “Because her winter wardrobe was a size smaller than her summer wardrobe. Because two of her dresser drawers held men’s clothing. Because there were two toothbrushes in the bathroom drawer. And because she had an engagement ring on her finger when she was buried.”

  “What? Why am I just now hearing this? There was no ring in the evidence collected at the scene. If you found something from your break-in today, I suggest you release it to me now before you’re charged with tampering.”

  “We didn’t find anything at the house. Your team missed it at the grave. Luckily, my wife has a sharp eye.” He explained how they’d come across the ring and that Pete seemed to have no inkling of his wife’s recent relationship status.

  “That’s interesting. It could also be his motive for killing her.”

  “I don’t think so. They had a friendly relationship in spite of their divorce. He was her go-to handyman. She even gave him a key to her house. What does that tell you?”

  “It tells me you’re taking Pete Dugan’s word for it. He could have stolen the key from her pocket after she was dead. It’s his word against a corpse.”

  He sighed. He’d probably have to take a taxi to pick up his Bronco after this, but he had to ask. “Are you looking at any other suspects or have you focused solely on Pete to the detriment of this case?”

  She stood, towering over him, hands jammed in the pockets of her coat. “You may have been a hotshot detective once upon a time, but you have no business interfering in an official investigation in my county. I expect that ring – and any other evidence you may be holding – handed over to my office as soon as possible.”

  “Detective, I understand you’re busy and this isn’t your only case, but a man’s life and freedom hang in the balance. I’m working on the premise of innocent until proven guilty. Can you and your partner say the same?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You need to take it easy.” Blake gently pushed Shelby back into her chair at the dining table. He’d already eaten while she was upstairs in the shower. “I can question Sadie’s employer and fellow employees this morning while you get some rest. I’m sure Alice would love to have you around for the day, for entertainment if nothing else. She’s told me more than once you’re like a one-woman Broadway show... for people who can’t afford Broadway.”

  Shelby smiled, trying to hide the pain behind her eyes. “You will not get rid of me with flattery. Besides, I feel fine. When’s the last time a few bruises kept you home? I’ll never be viewed as a legitimate partner in Double Barrel Investigations if I sit on the bench every time something out of the ordinary happens.”

  “Something out of the ordinary? Is that what they’re calling assault these days?” Alice joined them at the table, bringing a bowl of hot biscuits with her. She slid one off onto Shelby’s plate. “Have you looked in the mirror? You definitely look like something out of the ordinary.”

  “Does it look that bad?” Shelby reached up to run fingers lightly over her scabbed cheek and rough stitches at the edge of her hairline.

  Blake had checked Shelby out of the hospital early that morning, managing to get a doctor to sign her release before the normal rounds. They drove straight home to the bed and breakfast where Shelby took a nice long shower and put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a red cotton sweater. She’d tried to avoid looking in the mirror as much as possible because the cuts were still ugly and red and putting makeup on open wou
nds was out of the question.

  “Of course it looks bad. You were thrown into a mirror, kiddo.” Alice glanced over at Blake. “I noticed you didn’t get any visible damage, other than a bruised ego. I hope you managed to put a little hurt on that guy before he got away.”

  “It happened so fast,” Shelby said, and gave Blake a soft smile. “There was nothing he could do. The guy was there and then he was gone.”

  “I should have been more observant. Looked behind the house before we came inside. If I’d seen the snowmobile I would have…”

  “Hon, we’ve been over this. Things played out exactly the way they were supposed to. I found the money. The guy took the money. We now have a much better suspect for our murder.”

  “He may be a suspect but we don’t even know his name. With any luck someone at Rockford, Thornbush, & Associates can fill us in on Sadie’s life and the man she was seeing.”

  “I want to be there to help.”

  He inched toward the door. “Shel, it doesn’t take both of us to interview a couple people. So eat. Relax. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He gave them a parting salute. “Stay out of trouble, ladies.”

  “I’m surprised you gave up so easily,” Alice said, when he’d gone. She propped her elbows on the table, coffee cup in hand. “That’s not like you.”

  Shelby picked up her knife, slit a hot biscuit open and slathered it with strawberry preserves. “My head hurts too much to argue with him.”

  “So you lied about feeling fine.”

  “Of course. I was slammed into a mirror, remember?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Besides, he never would have let me check out of the hospital if he knew my head felt like someone played fruit ninja with it.”

  “Need more pain killers?”

  “That would be great.”

  Alice went to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of Tylenol. “Hope this helps.”

  “Actually, these biscuits are helping tremendously. The hospital food I had last night made me lift my fist to the ceiling and swear…” She mimicked the scene from Gone With The Wind. “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!”