Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries)

by Barbara E Brink

  “Sounds like she confided in you. Did she tell you about the new man in her life?”

  A glint of worry sparked in her eyes, but her expression remained neutral. She picked up her cup and held it in her lap, running a finger around the rim. “Why do you think she was seeing a new man?”

  “There was evidence in her house a man was living there with her.” He knew she was being evasive in an attempt to protect her friend. He leaned forward and spread his hands in a gesture of openness. “I know you cared about her and want to keep her confidences, but Pete will probably go down for her murder if we can’t find this mystery man. The police don’t believe he exists so I doubt they’ll expend much energy to prove he did. They already think they’ve got their killer and making evidence fit their scenario is easier than seeking the truth.”

  “Sadie was working on a case a couple years back that involved a young man arrested while harvesting a crop of marijuana. He insisted he was set up. That it wasn’t his crop. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She snorted disbelief. “I knew right off the bat there was no case. But Sadie insisted on doing due diligence and going through the motions. She drove down to Marquette Branch Prison to speak with the young inmate who sent the letter.”

  “Do you have his name?”

  “I’ll take a look in the files before you go.” She swallowed the rest of her coffee and made a face. “Cold. Want a fresh cup?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “To make a long story short, we didn’t file an appeal on that case, but Sadie met and spoke with another inmate while she was there. His cellmate.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  “Not sure. I think it was planned well before she got there. Maybe the young guy owed his cellmate a favor or something.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Sadie agreed to see him without prior knowledge. He was serving fifteen years for manslaughter. He gave her some cock and bull story. Said his then girlfriend perjured herself on the witness stand to get back at him or something. That if she’d told the truth, he never would have gotten such a harsh sentence for killing his friend. In other words, he was innocent as a baby lamb.”

  “He killed his friend?”

  “He was a roofer. They got into a fight over the girlfriend in question and one of them bypassed the ladder to the ground. Broke his neck.”

  “So you didn’t think it was an accident?”

  “Didn’t matter what I thought. Sadie took up his case without my approval. They started up a correspondence that was anything but professional. I tried to reason with her about it, to get her to think clearly. To see that what she was doing could be her undoing in the end. I believed he was using her and when he was released, would bring trouble into her otherwise calm life. Those kind of men always do.”

  “Sounds like you were a prognosticator.”

  “I didn’t want to be right. But I didn’t realize how desperately lonely Sadie was.”

  “Lonely enough to get involved with a violent ex-con?”

  She glanced toward the front window, her lips pressed tightly together as though suppressing emotion. “Yes. His name is Dalton Guthrie. I never met him in person, but a few days after he was released on parole he stopped by here to see Sadie. He was sitting out front in the passenger seat of a black pickup. The name of a construction company was on the door. Linden or Linder, maybe? Anyway, Sadie ran out to speak with Guthrie and handed him something through the window. I think it was cash. She wouldn’t discuss it with me when she came back inside.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “About three weeks before she went missing.”

  “Your ex-husband told me he never filed a missing person report because he thought Sadie was taking a long overdue vacation. Apparently, not only was she taking time off, which was completely out of character for her, but she was proving herself to be spontaneous as well by leaving without telling anyone.”

  She released a short huff. “He’s so self-absorbed it’s a miracle he knew her name. As long as he had one of his extra bimbos to fill in for her, he probably didn’t give her absence a second thought.”

  “That said, why didn’t you file a missing person report?” he asked, trying not to sound judgmental, but shocked that no one in Sadie’s life seemed to care about her enough to notice when she suddenly fell off the radar. “I thought you were friends.”

  She swiped a tear away. “I didn’t know she was missing until they found her body and it was on the news. We’d gotten into an argument the day Guthrie stopped by. About her relationship with him and how it was affecting her work and the office. I gave her an ultimatum. She returned the extra key to the front door and walked out.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  Blake knew the conversation had stirred up a mountain of guilt. The kind of guilt that always comes after something unforeseen happens, something terrible you feel you could have stopped if only you’d done this instead of that, said this instead of that. He’d felt the same way more than once in his career. It was a lie; a trick the mind plays, to make us think we’re in control. The truth was, only God knew the future. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I had to ask.”

  “You’re just doing your job. I should have been a better friend instead of worrying about the implications her relationship might have on me and this office.”

  “Ethics are important.”

  “Not as important as my friend’s life.”

  “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.” He wanted to promise her that he’d solve Sadie’s murder and make sure the person or persons responsible were put away for a very long time. That her friend’s life wouldn’t be forgotten. But he didn’t know that.

  The silence in the room was palpable. She pulled the footrest in and stood, reaching for his empty mug. “You sure you don’t want another cup?”

  “I better not. I have a bit of a drive home.”

  “Where’s that?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder before she slipped into the kitchen.

  He followed, and waited in the doorway, watching her place the mugs in the dishwasher. “Port Scuttlebutt. My wife and I bought into a bed and breakfast there. You ever want to take a weekend sabbatical from all this, come on down. We’d be glad to put you up for a couple of days.”

  “That’s very generous of you. I may take you up on it.”

  He smiled. “I hope you do.”

  “I think I still have Guthrie’s file. It probably has a mugshot in it if you want to take it with you.” She moved past him, crooking her finger for him to follow. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned left and led him past a waiting area with sturdy straight backed chairs lining the walls and a couple of end tables with stacks of old magazines available to pass the time.

  The door to her office was closed. She pulled a key from her jeans pocket. “You can never be too careful in this neighborhood,” she said, unlocked the door and flipped the light switch. She went directly to a doublewide file cabinet, chose the third drawer marked D-F, and pulled.

  “I thought his name was Guthrie,” Blake said, frowning.

  “It is. You asked me about his cellmate. Remember? His name just came to me,” she said, tapping a finger to her temple. She pulled a file folder out, glanced inside, then closed and handed it to him. “Innocent Mr. Marijuana man. Heath Flintlock.”

  The name registered like a gun to the head. He knew Heath had been in prison for possession, but never in his wildest dreams did he think his old high school football nemesis would come up in a murder investigation. Coincidence was something romantics believed in, not cops. He believed in facts and the facts said that Heath Flintlock very likely knew exactly where Guthrie was hiding. So finding Heath was now his top priority.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “This is quite a coincidence,” Alice said, when she opened the front door and found Tucker standing there with a grocery bag in his arms and a cute grin on his face. “I was actually on my way out to buy milk an
d here you are stopping by with -” she tilted the edge of the sack to look inside, “milk. How did you know?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I can read your mind?”

  “No.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “Now would you believe me?”

  “Maybe.” She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “I was just daydreaming about kissing you.”

  “Really? Do tell,” he said moving slowly through the door with her, his lips barely grazing hers.

  Shelby came out of the sitting room, and stood watching. Amusement tinged her words, “I think you’d better put that milk in the refrigerator before you scorch it.”

  They pulled apart so fast Tucker lost his grip on the sack. He grabbed for it and the paper ripped apart in his hand, the carton dropping to the wood floor with a slosh. He snatched it up, along with something else that had fallen out of the torn sack and clutched them to his chest. “Hey, Shel. How are you doing? Alice told me you had a run in with a dresser mirror. Those bruises and scrapes look pretty nasty.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, I mean, you look great, just not as great as usual.” He shifted his burden and backed toward the kitchen with an apologetic lift of his shoulders. “I better get this put away.”

  “I’ll help,” Alice offered, shooting Shelby a quick retreating grin. “We should probably pour that into a pitcher. The carton might have a leak after being dropped.”

  “Milk transfer is obviously a two-person-only activity,” Shelby called after them. “So I think I’ll go out to the boathouse to see how Pete’s doing.”

  She didn’t get a response.

  <<>>

  Bundled up in her white parka, with her blue scarf and hat, she navigated the slippery path to the boathouse. Fallen leaves still littered the wood beneath a layer of snow making the steps slick and slightly treacherous. Her boots gripped the rough terrain and she made her way slowly down to the dock, the pounding in her head reminding her that further damage or bodily harm was not an option.

  The newly installed door was closed, but the high whine of a power saw came through loud and clear. Loud enough to make her cringe when it ended abruptly on a piercing high note and was quickly followed by an angry expletive. Shelby turned the knob and pushed open the door.

  A man was bent over a miter saw, mumbling to himself. His cap lay upside down at his feet in a pile of sawdust. She recognized the logo of Pete’s old construction company on the back of his long-sleeved t-shirt and assumed he must be a friend come to give a hand. His head was shaved, prickly and pale in the bright glare of the trouble light hanging over the workbench.

  “Hello.” Shelby called out, loud enough that the man would be able to hear through the bright orange earplugs he wore. She closed the door and moved across the room to inspect the nearly finished reception area, then glanced through the office door where Blake would take care of the day-to-day business when they weren’t working a case. “You guys are making great progress.”

  “What guys?”

  She stopped and turned around, eyes slanting. “Pete? I thought you were…”

  “Whoa!” he blurted when he saw her face. His brows pulled down and concern etched deeper lines around his eyes.

  She automatically reached up and tentatively touched the tender wound on her cheek. “It looks worse than it is.”

  “I hope so. ‘Cause it looks bad. What happened?”

  “You haven’t heard?” She was surprised the Port Scuttlebutt gossip mill hadn’t churned out the story yet. She gave him a tightly edited version – leaving out the part that her assaulter may have been Sadie’s fiancé – and warned Pete to keep the information to himself. “We don’t want this guy to disappear into the woods forever. Blake and I need to question him, find out why he was there and how he knew Sadie.”

  “I get it, but I don’t like it. Someone murdered Sadie. Now you’ve been attacked. People need to know there’s a violent suspect out there so they can protect themselves.”

  “The last thing we need is Port Scuttlebutt citizens running around with guns, popping off strangers. Let the police deal with it. Blake and I will keep you informed about our progress.” She crossed her arms and regarded him with a lift of her chin. “Now I need the lowdown on your big make-over. You look like a completely different man.”

  His grin spread slowly across his face and he ran a hand over his smooth dome. Not only had he shaved his head, but his face as well. The Harley persona had disappeared along with his braided beard and ponytail. “Yep. I even shocked myself when I looked in the mirror this morning. But it’s just me. The new hairless me.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a bold move you made overnight. Can I ask what prompted it?”

  Pete shrugged and reached down to pick up his discarded cap, obviously trying to hide the fact he was blushing. He slapped it against a pant leg to dust it off and pulled it down over his bare head. “My girl didn’t like the biker look. She thought I needed grooming.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “As serious as a heart attack. Women these days. Sadie would never have asked me to…” he broke off, unable to finish the thought and picking up a nearby broom began to sweep the sawdust into a neat pile.

  “I think you look great. What does your girl think about it?”

  “Actually,” he said, looking up from his work, “you’re the first to see the new me. We’re supposed to meet at her church Sunday morning. Thought I’d surprise her.”

  “You’ll definitely do that,” she said, sort of wishing she could witness this odd romance in person. She was kind of getting attached to their new client and hoped he wasn’t being taken for a ride. Whoever this woman was, she knew how to manipulate men to get what she wanted. Church seemed like a strange place to meet a woman like that. But his new love interest could be a nun for all she knew. Online dating opened up a whole world of potential crazy.

  Pete poured a dustpan full of shavings into the garbage can beside the workbench. “I spoke to Blake this morning before he left for Houghton. He said he was interviewing people at Sadie’s workplace. Have you heard anything from him?”

  “Not yet. I expect him back later this afternoon.” She glanced around once more. “You are doing a fabulous job. If you weren’t retired, I’d leave you a five-star review on Angie’s List.”

  “Remind me of that after you clear my name. Dating is expensive business. I may have to go back to work permanently.”

  <<>>

  When Shelby returned to the house she found Tucker and Alice on the couch in the sitting room. They must have heard her come in because they pretended to be deep in conversation about mice and the best way to trap them. She nearly burst out laughing at the way Alice was trying to surreptitiously straighten her sweater and smooth her hair behind her ears. The rubber band that held her customary ponytail was missing in action. It had apparently gone the way of the pale pink lip-gloss she’d been wearing before Tucker showed up.

  “So we have a mice problem, do we?” she said, shrugging out of her coat and sitting opposite them in an overstuffed chair. She crossed her legs. “Is that what you brought in your sack, Tuck? Better mouse traps?”

  Splotchy reds spots lit up her friend’s cheeks as an early sign of danger. The red-haired beauty could simmer for hours before exploding like a bunch of firecrackers. Scooting to the corner of the sofa away from Tucker, Alice crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “You saw what he brought. Milk.”

  “I’ve heard it does a body good.” Shelby burst out laughing, unable to tamp it down any longer. Alice sent her a glare sharp enough to cut glass. She put up both hands. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. You two are just so darn cute when you’ve been caught making out.”

  “We weren’t making out!”

  “Of course not. You’re not in high school anymore. Let’s call it what it is.”

  They both stared at her expectantly waiting for her to crush their bunny love with reality.
>
  “Passion,” she said, her voice soft and dreamy. She slowly stood and retrieved her coat, quoting Olivia from Twelfth Night as she moved toward the stairs. “A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love that would seem hid. Love’s night is noon. Good luck catching those mice.”

  Before she could make a clean escape up the stairs and offstage, the front door opened and Blake stepped inside, stomping his boots on the doormat. An old stocking cap was pulled low over his ears, his coat was buttoned to the top and he wore a scarf and gloves. He reached out for her. “Hey babe. How are you? Did you get some rest?”

  “A little,” she said, stretching up to meet his kiss. His nose was ice-cold and she shivered. “Did the heater quit in the Bronco again?”

  “Yep. It was a little chilly driving home. I’ll ask Jack to have a look at it tomorrow. Maybe he can figure it out without me taking it in.” Jack had taught himself auto mechanics when he was a teenager and later the army had put that knowledge to good use, having him repair Jeeps during his time in the Vietnam War. He’d probably get a kick out of Blake asking for his help.

  Tucker and Alice appeared in the doorway of the sitting room looking slightly disheveled and wholly uncomfortable, but still curious enough to want to know what Blake had learned in Houghton. Alice had apparently found the missing rubber band. Her hair was securely, if not smoothly, pulled back again, and the splotchy red that had recently spread up her neck and into her cheeks was almost completely gone.

  “I saw your pickup out there, Skeleton. Wondered where you were hiding,” Blake said, oblivious to their discomfiture.

  Tuck shrugged and jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “How was your trip?”

  “Good. Interesting.”

  “Is that all you’re going to say?”