Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries)

by Barbara E Brink

  “How? Even if I knew who killed her, and I don’t, nobody would believe me. I’m actually surprised the cops haven’t arrested me for her murder. I’m an ex-con. I might as well have it tattooed on my forehead.”

  Shelby lifted one brow. She’d seen his mug shot and read the file Blake brought home. “That may be the only spot on your body that isn’t yet clearly marked.”

  “True.” Guthrie grinned, revealing a chipped lower incisor that accounted for the slight whistle she heard from time to time. He rolled up his sleeves and showed her his prison tats; on one arm a skull and crossbones decorated the inside of his wrist, and on the other barbed wire circled his bicep. He unabashedly pulled his shirt open and pointed at a fairly recent looking tattoo, still scabbed a bit, placed right above his heart. “I got her name inked a week ago. So I never forget. She was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Then prove it,” Blake shifted in his chair. “The only reason you haven’t been arrested is because the cops on this case are incompetent. They didn’t even know Sadie had a boyfriend.”

  “Didn’t?”

  “I filled them in.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “They were going after Pete with tunnel vision. Not even looking for other suspects or leads.”

  “Maybe because he really did kill Sadie,” Guthrie said, slowly cracking his knuckles one by one.

  Shelby lifted her cup. “Pete didn’t do it. I’m sure of it. He’s a good man. Not too smart when it comes to women, but...”

  “What…?” Guthrie apparently took that as an insult to Sadie.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Shelby said, waving a hand back and forth. “Pete is dating this woman we know. She’s half his age and not a good person, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, yeah. I heard about that.”

  “You did?”

  “Sadie came home one night hopping mad. She’d stopped over at Pete’s place because she wanted to tell him we were getting married. She thought he might be upset if he found out from someone else.”

  Shelby couldn’t believe Guthrie could corroborate Pete’s story about the last time he’d seen Sadie and tell her side of it. It was practically like a visit from the other side of the grave. She leaned forward. “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know if I should repeat her actual words. She was flaming mad.”

  “Give us the Reader’s Digest condensed version.”

  He shrugged. “Sadie didn’t know Cynthia. But she’d seen her the one time before when I brought her along with me to Heath’s place. She stayed in the car and…”

  “Heath’s place? What was Cynthia doing there?” Blake interrupted.

  Shelby rolled her eyes. “Ignore him, Dalton. Please continue.”

  “I was dropping off a package, but Heath was none too happy. He got up in my face and said never to bring my bimbo with me again. I was ready to punch his lights out, but then Bart showed up. He pulled Heath away and told me to get going.”

  Blake scooted his chair back and stood. He limped toward the kitchen and back, stretching his leg. “Sorry, got a cramp. Go ahead. Finish your story.”

  “That’s it. Sadie was upset because she knew Cynthia was playing her ex-husband and she didn’t want to see him get hurt. I told her he wasn’t her problem anymore, but I was afraid she wouldn’t listen.”

  Shelby couldn’t stop the smile stretching her lips. “Are you saying that sweet, innocent Cynthia is dating multiple men at the same time?”

  “That’s not the words Sadie used, but yeah.”

  “There’s our missing piece.”

  “What piece?” Blake stopped his pacing.

  “Motive. Cynthia didn’t want Pete to find out she was seeing Heath on the side. Pete’s an old-fashioned kind of guy. He wouldn’t be okay with sharing. So she had to silence Sadie before she spilled the beans.”

  “Really? That’s a motive for murder?”

  “Have you got a better one?”

  “Actually I do. Heath thought Sadie saw something she shouldn’t have the day Guthrie dropped off the package.” He planted his palms on the table, and leaned in on Guthrie. “What is Heath dealing in? Other than stolen jewelry from remodel jobs?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  Shelby wanted to know the same thing. She was amazed by her husband’s uncanny ability to decipher clues where she didn’t see any. Although he didn’t seem to have a clue when it came to Cynthia. Like a big old blind spot.

  “The ring. You wanted it back because it was stolen property and would lead back to one of Linder Construction’s clients. Bart Linder’s uncle hired you to do remodeling work, right? Bart and Heath thought you could score them a little money on the side by pocketing a few items from the houses you worked in. I’m not sure what you got out of it, other than the blame, but go ahead… explain.”

  Guthrie was starting to look worried again. His leg shook up and down and his whole body seemed to be on high alert. She was afraid he was going to jump up and charge from the room. She hoped he didn’t hit another wall. Alice was right, they couldn’t afford any lawsuits or anymore damage.

  She picked up the coffee pot to distract him. “Would you like another cup?”

  He shook his head.

  Blake straightened. “Look, I don’t want you to go back to prison for petty theft. If you help us catch Sadie’s killer, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “You’re not a cop or a lawyer. What can you do?”

  “We make great character witnesses. And I happen to know a terrific lawyer who might be willing to take your case. She has an invested interest. She was Sadie’s friend.”

  “That Rockford woman? She was furious with Sadie. I don’t think she likes me.”

  “You got that right. But she liked Sadie. And she has scruples. She doesn’t believe anyone should go to prison for something they didn’t do.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Blake and Shelby headed down the road on a late morning walk. Most of the snow had melted away during the night. The wind had shifted over the Great Lake and a warm breeze now blew out of the west. The forecast for the day was high fifties and it felt like Indian summer deja vu. The walk was Shelby’s idea. Blake knew she was eager to discuss everything that had happened the night before. But he wasn’t quite ready to share yet.

  “Do you think we should clue Pete in on what we know?” she asked.

  “No.” His answer was abrupt but well thought out.

  He’d lain in bed for hours, tossing and turning, pondering exactly how this whole thing should play out. They needed a confession from Heath. Right now they had nothing but circumstantial evidence and hearsay. But they didn’t need him to know that. Pete would not be able to keep from saying something to Cynthia and she in turn would feel the need to tip off Heath.

  Shelby didn’t press him, but quietly hummed a jazz tune under her breath. In a blue hooded sweatshirt with jeans and walking boots, she looked about eighteen-years-old today. He wondered anew how he ever got so lucky. He smiled at the silly Minnie Mouse stocking cap she had on over her dark hair keeping her ears warm. Matching pink mittens on her hands were crammed into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

  He moved a little slower than usual without his cane. He’d come a long way since surgery but there were still days he felt pain like a red-hot needle driven through his thigh. He didn’t tell Shelby about the lingering effects because she worried about him and always wanted to try and fix things. There was no fix for this. He had to learn to live with it. In the beginning he thought maybe with time the pain would dissipate, the limp would be gone, and he might even go back to his job as a homicide detective. But he no longer wished for that scenario. He was happy in Port Scuttlebutt.

  He slanted his eyes toward Shelby, watching her whole face light up when she spotted a deer run across the road and disappear into a thicket of trees. He put a hand on her shoulder to slow her down. “Wait for it,” h
e whispered into her ear. Two seconds later another deer bounded out of the ditch and followed the leader across the pavement and through the same break in the trees. “They always come across in pairs.”

  “No wonder they get hit. A car slows down for the first one, then speeds up just in time to hit the second.”

  “Yep. Road kill happens.”

  “It might be good for Luanne’s Café menu but it’s really sad. They are such beautiful creatures. Every movement is full of grace, like four-legged ballerinas.”

  “That’s a picture I didn’t need in my head. Deer in tights.”

  She breathed a laugh and clasped his hand with her mitten, swinging it between them as they walked. “This weather is invigorating! I feel like I have all kinds of energy today.”

  “Speak for yourself. After last night I’m feeling a bit wiped out.”

  “Guess you’re getting old, babe. Good thing you married a younger woman to take care of you.” She stopped and pointed into the trees. “Is that who I think it is?”

  A spot of pink caught his eye. Fanny Arnold, wearing her favorite pink, brown, and white camouflage jacket and a pair of over-sized khaki pants, trudged down the hill. As usual, she had a pack on her back and a walking stick in her hand. The woman was an avid naturalist. In spite of her age and build she walked miles a day, searching the area around Port Scuttlebutt for new plant growth, berries, herbs, or mushrooms, and caring for sick animals she found along the way. When he was a boy, he believed she was a witch, but now he knew she was just a sweet, quirky woman who cared about all living things with single-minded perseverance.

  He waved. “Hello, Fanny!”

  “Hallo!” she called back, waving both arms like she was trying to flag down a low flying plane, her stick nearly catching the trunk of a tree. Wisps of gray hair flew around her face in the breeze as she hurried toward them. “Fancy meeting you two out here,” she said, breathlessly. “I was just coming to see you.”

  “Really?” Blake gallantly took her backpack to carry. “What about?”

  “Murder, of course. Isn’t that what you two deal in?”

  “Sometimes.” Blake glanced at Shelby. She was trying to keep a straight face, but her eyes gave her away. “Do you have information on our current case?”

  “You mean Sadie Dugan? No. Sorry. Wish I did. Leaving that poor woman under Pete’s woodpile for him to find was plain cruel.”

  “You’re right. It was.” Blake had been working on the assumption that Heath killed Sadie because she saw something that could put him back in prison, but what if the murderer killed Sadie in order to hurt Pete? That put a completely different spin on the facts.

  Shelby touched Fanny’s arm, “Was there another murder?”

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  “What do you mean? You found a body?”

  “Madeline.” She sniffed as a tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek, and tucked a hand into the bulging pocket of her coat. Out came a tiny lump of fur. On closer inspection, they saw it was a squirrel. A dead squirrel. “I found Maddy stretched across the porch in front of my door when I got home from walking the beach earlier. She would never have gone outside alone. She was afraid of being abandoned. She was an orphan. Her mother was shot with a BB gun by one of those young hooligans who live down the street. I raised her from an infant. Fed her with an eyedropper. I can’t believe…”

  “I’m so sorry,” Shelby said, wrapping an arm around the woman for an empathetic hug while trying not to make contact with the dead friend in her hands.

  Blake licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not sure what you want us to do, Fanny. I’m afraid we really aren’t qualified to investigate pet deaths. Perhaps you should speak with the local veterinarian.”

  “You surprise me, Blake Gunner. Jack said you would understand, that you cared about injustice for all living creatures. Madeline was lured out of the house and murdered by someone with a purely wicked heart.” She shook her finger in Blake’s face, her voice quivering with emotion. “Do you think someone capable of such evil will stop with just one murder?”

  “I only…”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.” Shelby sent him a scathing glare while giving Fanny a confident pat on the shoulder. “Madeline’s killer will be brought to justice and all creatures great and small within Port Scuttlebutt can rest easy. Double Barrel Investigations is on the case.”

  Blake wondered how they were supposed to find and stop a serial squirrel killer from his bloody rampage across town when their hands were already full with a real murder investigation. But he didn’t say another word. When Shelby got something into her head there was no point arguing. She could be as stubborn as a snapping turtle clamped onto a stick, refusing to let go if her life depended on it.

  Fanny nodded. Her lips pulled tight in a sad grimace, and she tucked her furry friend back into her pocket.

  He felt silly asking, but if they were going to look into the little critter’s death then he might as well learn now whether they were on a wild squirrel chase. “Fanny, do you know how Madeline died? Was she shot like her mother?”

  “No, it was worse. Someone tied a piece of string around her neck and choked her to death with it.”

  “Oh my word! What kind of a…” Shelby broke off and shook her head.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Fanny tenderly patted the lump in her pocket and wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her coat. “Over the years I’ve learned to tolerate man’s desire to hunt and kill wildlife for food. But to kill a tiny defenseless creature in such a horribly twisted way… This person would have to make friends with Maddy before she would come to him. That takes time. Who knows how long they were in my home while I was away.”

  He was more than a little concerned for the elderly woman’s safety. She lived alone with her cat and assorted other animals she found who stayed with her temporarily while she nursed them back to health. A bit of a recluse, most people considered her an oddity around town. Except for Jack. The two of them were good friends and seemed to understand one another.

  He asked, “So someone broke into your house?”

  “I should go,” Fanny said, reaching for the backpack. “What if they go in again and hurt Ginger or one of my patients?”

  “Did you lock the door when you left?”

  “I’ve never needed to before,” she said, her face beginning to crumple like a deflated pastry. “I don’t think I can find the key. Port Scuttlebutt was always a safe haven for me and my friends.”

  “As it should be. I’m going to send Pete over to your house to put a new deadbolt on your door. Shelby and I will come by later to check things out and decide how best to catch our killer. Sit tight and keep Ginger inside for now.”

  She nodded and strapped her bag over her back. The short lady with her skinny arms and legs and rotund body reminded Blake of the Mr. Toad stories when he was a kid. She trudged back up the hill using her walking stick to maneuver, and soon disappeared through the trees following the path the deer took earlier.

  “How terrible. People can be so cruel sometimes.” Shelby slipped her arms under his unzipped coat and hugged him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You think she’ll be all right?”

  “We’ll make sure she is,” he promised.

  <<>>

  When they got down to the boathouse, Pete was busy directing two young men he’d hired to install carpeting in Blake’s office. The outside door was propped open so they could carry things in and out while preparing the floor. Pete stood in the middle of the open room with his cell phone to his ear, shouting over the chunk chunk of the air hammer.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said! By tomorrow. Yes! Tomorrow.” He ended the call and slipped his phone back in the protective case he wore on his tool belt. Seeing them standing outside waiting on the dock, he put up a finger. “Hold on a minute!”

  Blake followed Shelby to the end of the dock, close to the water and far from the noisy construction. The
lake reflected clear blue sky today giving the appearance of safety and peace, but he knew Lake Superior’s history was not so calm or sedate. October was usually one of the stormiest months, with northeasters blowing up twenty-foot waves and fog shrouding the shoreline like ghostly apparitions of lost souls rising from their watery graves. But today the fog had cleared early and the breeze felt almost balmy.

  He stood behind her, arms encircling her waist. This was what he’d moved home for. A slower pace. Time to enjoy his family and friends and not feel pushed all day long to hurry up, get the collar, fill a quota… not that cops officially filled quotas, of course. Port Scuttlebutt was pretty quiet and peaceful. Most of the time.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Shelby murmured when the hammering stopped for a moment. She cupped her hands around her eyes to block the sun. “Is that a ship?”

  The tiny black speck in the distance, miles away, was most likely a cargo ship. Lake Superior was a busy waterway with freighters moving their loads from Duluth to Quebec and everywhere in between. It was possible that it was a military vessel or even a passenger ship. But freighters were much more common.

  “Probably loaded with iron ore or coal,” he said, squinting toward the horizon.

  “Afternoon, folks.” Pete stood behind them, thumbs hooked in his tool belt. He looked tired and drawn. The grooves around his mouth were carved deeper today. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. I wanted to make sure the guys knew the plan before I left them to it. Young people these days,” he said, with a little shake of his head. “They’d carpet the bathroom if I wasn’t watching.”

  “No problem. Looks like everything is coming together nicely.” Blake handed Pete the address he’d written out. “I know you’re busy but we have a favor to ask of you. If you can trust your team to get along without you for an hour or so.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you know Fanny Arnold?” Shelby asked, tucking her hand into the crook of Blake’s arm. “Someone is entering her house while she’s out, and this morning they left one of her pets on the front steps for her to find. Dead.”