by S F Bose
“Do you believe him?” Sam asked.
Newmont nodded his head slowly. “I think there was a lot of truth to what he said.”
“But?” I pressed. Newmont shrugged.
“There was something off, but I can’t be concrete. It was a gut feeling. We’ll be talking to him again tomorrow. He was very scared that night, so we couldn’t do a complete interview.”
Sam looked at his notes. When we ran into you that night, you said that Sweet called the murder in at 5:20 p.m.?”
“Yes,” said Newmont.
I looked at my notebook. “The time doesn’t match up. Are you sure it was 5:20 pm?”
“Very sure,” Joyce said. “I checked the log before I left work today. The day of the murder, I took the call from Mark Sweet and recorded the time in our dispatch call log. Then I notified Newmont who was still on patrol. After that, I notified Matt. Joe Tolliver normally starts work at 5:00 p.m. and he drove out to the Emporium too.”
“Something is off then,” Sam said. “The third call was at 4:55 p.m. Let’s say he made it to the back of the building by 4:56 p.m. That means it took him twenty-four minutes to calm down and call it in?”
Newmont shifted in his chair. “We asked him about that. He said when he ran outside, he continued past the Farmhouse Café, and went up to Founders Road. He stopped to catch his breath and collect himself. Then he walked south to Bridge Road, around the Saucy Shop, and went back near the Emporium. Then he called it in.”
“Any witnesses who saw Sweet?” I asked.
Newmont shook his head. “None so far. It was a cold night. Fewer people were out walking or shopping.”
“That timeline puts Mark Sweet on the front porch while the mystery man was exiting out the back door,” I said, looking at my notes. “He’s a lucky man. He could have been the second victim.”
“That’s correct,” Newmont agreed.
“And you haven’t spoken to Sweet since Monday?” asked Sam.
“Right. We have an interview scheduled for tomorrow. Mr. Sweet was so stressed out, his doctor sedated him,” Newmont replied. “His wife said he’s been in bed medicated ever since Monday.”
“Don’t forget the smell,” Joyce reminded him.
“Oh right! When Sweet entered the Emporium through the back door, he said he smelled a spicy, citrusy scent. It got stronger as he walked toward the front of the Emporium.”
“Like perfume?” I asked. Could we be dealing with a woman?
Newmont shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
“Anything more on the body?” Sam asked.
Newmont flipped through his notebook. “Yeah Chief Durand asked the ME to expedite the autopsy. We got a preliminary report. The killer used 9mm hollow point ammo. One bullet hit Justin in the stomach and a second bullet hit him in the lower chest. A third bullet went into the wall behind him. Justin bled out. The report said estimated time of death was between 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. on Monday. The gunshot wounds were the cause of death. Manner of death was homicide. Both bullets damaged internal organs and he bled to death. The ME also said that bruising indicates the beating took place the same day.”
“Earlier the same day?” asked Sam.
“That he didn’t say. No specific timing on the beating,” Newmont said.
“Beaten and shot on the same day,” I said quietly.
“Stomach contents?” asked Sam.
Newmont checked his notes. “The toxicology results won’t be back for a while and they’re still doing ballistics testing on the bullets.”
“Anything on angle of fire?” Sam asked.
“Nothing yet,” Newmont replied.
Sam leaned forward. “What’s your gut tell you?”
Newmont briefly stroked his mustache. “I think the shooter was standing near the bookshelf where all the books had been dumped on the floor. Something happened and Justin stood up. The perp got off three shots. Two hit Justin and he fell to the floor on his right side. Not sure if the first or last shot went into the wall.”
“What’s your theory on the beating?” I asked.
Newmont scratched his neck. “It was a mild beating. He had bruising on the left side of the face like he’d been hit a couple of times. If the beating took place earlier in the day, then I can see two scenarios. One is that Justin had two different people after him on Monday for different reasons. One person beat him up over one thing and the second person shot him later over something else. The second scenario is the same person beat him earlier and came back to the Emporium to shoot him later.”
“It could have been a simple robbery gone bad too. Maybe Justin got into an unrelated fight earlier in the day. Then later, a thief got into the Emporium and demanded money. Things got out of hand and the thief shot Justin,” I said.
There was a pause. Then Newmont nodded. “That’s plausible. One other thing. There was a bottle of Irish whiskey on the table and two glasses. It appeared that Justin drank his whiskey but whoever sat across from him didn’t touch his glass.”
“So one shooter then? The witness only saw one man running out the back of the Emporium,” Sam said.
“It’s possible,” Newmont agreed. “Or maybe a second killer who didn’t drink and waited to escape until after Sweet entered and then left.”
“Was anything taken from Justin or the Emporium?” I asked.
“Justin had his wallet on him with twenty dollars in it. He didn’t have any credit cards,” said Newmont. “It doesn’t look like any sales were made that day. Peter and Martha will be back in tomorrow. They’ll let us know if the register looks okay and if any merchandise was taken.”
“Did Peter and Martha have any ideas on who might have done this?” I asked.
“They’re baffled and distraught,” Newmont said. “Said Justin was a hard worker and didn’t have any enemies. They have no idea why anyone would have killed him. They did give us a couple of people we’re looking into.” I nodded. One of those people was Ben Katz.
“Did Justin have any life insurance with maybe his ex-wife as beneficiary?” Sam asked.
“I asked Peter that and he said Justin didn’t have any insurance at all. He also said that Justin and his ex-wife, Maxine, got along really well. She remarried to…” Newmont paused and flipped through his notebook, “Paul Hudson, a dentist. We’ll look into any insurance further, just to confirm.”
Sam looked at me to see if I had any more questions. I shook my head.
The meeting broke up shortly after that. Sam shook Newmont’s hand and I smiled at Joyce. Sam walked them out.
***
I brewed a fresh cup of cappuccino. As I sat down at the conference room table, my phone chirped its familiar text message alert. I slid my phone out of my pocket and went to Messaging. There, at the top, was a message from Raven, my former boss at Worldhead Global Security. I tapped his name and read, “We need to talk, Bean. Am on my way to the frozen Midwest.”
That was it. “Crap,” I muttered. Just what I needed. After leaving Worldhead and getting the PI job with Sam, I hoped Raven would just let me go. I didn’t reply to him and just pocketed my phone.
Sam returned and sat across the table from me.
After a pause, I asked, “Sam, why is Newmont so willing to share information with us?”
Sam expelled a deep breath. “Newmont and I have a long history. We were both deputy sheriffs at the same time and ended up at a domestic call together. Hysterical wife, two screaming kids, and a drunken husband. The trifecta. We frisked the husband and sat him down on the couch. Unfortunately, he must have had a gun hidden near the couch. Newmont and I were trying to calm the wife down when the husband jumped up screaming and shooting. The wife and kids dove to the floor. I turned toward the husband but knew I couldn’t get my gun out fast enough. So I lunged at him and tried to get between him and Newmont. I ended up taking a bullet in the gut. Newmont killed the husband and then he kept me going until the EMTs arrived.”
My mouth dropped open. “You
saved Newmont’s life and then he saved yours. That’s amazing.”
“Later, we both lost our jobs due to budget cuts. Newmont got a job right away in Mystic Grove. After I got my PI license, I came to Mystic Grove too. We’re brothers. I help him. He helps me.”
“That’s incredible. Thank God you both survived.”
“I shared that only because it’s important that you know you can trust him too. Newmont is one of the best people I know.”
“I understand. Thanks for telling me, Sam.”
He looked at me and smiled. Then he shifted gears. “So what have we learned about the case?”
I tapped my pen on my notebook. “We know that there’s a problem with the timeline they have for Sweet. It took him too long to call the police. We know that Justin was both beaten and shot, but we don’t know why. We know Sweet said he smelled a citrus scent inside the Emporium. Could a woman be involved?” I asked.
Sam rubbed his chin as he thought. “A woman could have certainly shot Justin. I have a harder time imagining a woman beating him up, though.” I decided to let his second comment pass. I thought a well-trained woman could have easily given Justin a beating.
“Unless she had a male accomplice,” I countered.
Sam thought for a second. “That’s a possibility,” he agreed. “It could be your robbery scenario. They wanted something from Justin. He balked. The guy beat him up. Then one of them shot Justin. But we still have to remember the beating and shooting could also be totally unrelated.”
I nodded. “That’s true. Also that scent could have been aftershave.”
We sat in silence for a minute. The only thing that cheered me was the fact that nothing we learned had implicated Ben Katz.
“Okay, as far as game plan moving forward, we’re meeting with Ben and your mom tomorrow morning,” Sam said, jotting down a note in his notebook.
“I’d also like to talk to Peter and Martha tomorrow, if we can. We need to interview Sweet too,” I said, making my own notes.
“Let’s tackle Ben and your mom tomorrow morning. Then we can see if Peter and Martha are free to talk later in the day. Newmont said they’d be interviewing Sweet tomorrow, so we can hold off on him for a day.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I glanced at my watch. “It’s five thirty. I’ll update the case file from home.”
“Okay. Once we have a signed contract, we’ll start a case board,” he said. When Sam built out the conference room, he made one entire wall a white board. He wanted to be able to post photos of the victims, suspects, and other major players in any case he was working. Sliding doors met in the middle of the white board wall, to conceal any notes if necessary.
I smiled. We had a plan, which helped me to relax. I left work that night feeling optimistic that we were on track to find the real killer of Justin Church and clear Ben Katz.
Chapter 23
The next morning I woke up at 6:30 a.m. with Snap and Sammy curled in a pile next to me. When I thought about the meeting with Mom and Ben, I immediately tensed up. I decided to go for a run no matter what the weather was like. That would take the edge off.
I got up and padded over to the closest bedroom window, which faced east. Parting the curtains, I saw that ice crystals covered most of the glass panes. I squinted but couldn’t see a thing. It was still pitch dark outside.
I dressed quickly in cold weather running gear and went down the hall as quietly as I could. I saw the light on under Chloe’s door at the end of the hall. I tiptoed downstairs, detoured into the kitchen, and quickly fed Snap and Sammy who had trailed me downstairs.
I did some stretches inside, and put on my jacket, gloves, and headgear. Then I went outside where a cold sunrise had chased away the darkness. It was subzero with the winds gusting from the south/southwest. I ran south down the driveway, not even bothering to duck my head into the wind. A balaclava, thermal skullcap, and ski goggles kept my head, face and eyes warm.
I found my stride quickly and ran at an easy pace. When I reached the bottom of the driveway, I took the path right toward the pastures in the distance. I concentrated on my breathing and blocked everything else out of my head. Running was like meditation for me.
The stable area to my right was quiet. There were three empty, fenced paddocks, a round ring, and a long ring used for jumping hurdles. Beyond the paddocks and rings was the stable with an enclosed walkway to the covered arena. The Connemara ponies were in the stables, a lot warmer than I was.
In the distance, I saw the fenced pastures and beyond that, a windbreak of aspen, cottonwood, ninebark, white spruce, and other trees. When I reached the fence line, I followed the path to my right, toward the stables. Then I accelerated past the various pastures on my left and the paddocks on my right.
North of the stables, more fencing separated the working area of the stable from additional pastures. If I kept running straight, the path would go all the way through a gate, to the fence line at the back of the big pasture in the distance. That was a longer run than I was up for today. As I passed the stable, I slowed a bit and followed the path east along the fence line. Now I was running back toward the coach house and a cup of life-saving coffee.
I looked to my left for the fence that separated the large pasture from the small meadow. When I saw it, I slowed. Thorn, our ancient Hawthorne tree, stood in the middle of the meadow. It was our “gentle bush” and close to fifty feet tall. Ages ago, some Bean ancestor had encircled it with a low, stone, wall to protect it. Family lore said the tree had been full-grown back in the late 1800’s when our family first bought the farm. In Ireland, a gentle bush is a magical gateway the faerie people use to travel between our world and the otherworld.
Olivia often meditated and did tai chi in the meadow near Thorn. She said there was an energy there that she didn’t find elsewhere. I knew what she meant. If you got close enough to Thorn, the current of energy traveled to you through the ground. It was energizing and calming at the same time. In warmer weather, Grandma Addie, Nana, and Grace would sometimes sit on the low wall and drink wine. As I ran by, I raised a hand to Thorn.
When I reached the driveway, I turned right and slowed to a jog and then to a walk. My spidey sense woke up and I looked around. I didn’t see a thing. I walked all the way to the B&B and then back toward the coach house. As I got closer, I saw a shadow detach from the coach house. A man walked to the head of the path. He was dressed in a black parka, blue jeans, and boots. A trapper hat and balaclava hid his face and his hands were jammed in the pockets of his parka.
He was 6’1” tall, and had a medium frame, and muscular arms and legs. He looked dangerous, but his gloved hands were visible and empty. I reached under my running jacket and pulled out my Glock. My cold weather shooting gloves were like a second skin so it was easy to handle my pistol. I shifted into a combat stance with a two-handed grip on my gun. I kept advancing toward the man, my gun pointed at his feet. One false move and I’d slide the Glock up to his chest.
When I was six feet away, he slowly raised his hands. I stopped and quickly scanned the area. This was too easy. Was there another threat out there? Did he have backup?
“Don’t shoot, Liz. I’m harmless,” he said. It was a familiar Irish brogue with a hint of humor. I looked at him more closely. Then I lowered the Glock and came out of my crouch.
“Raven? I could have killed you!” I said, feeling anger erupt inside of me.
“We trained you too well for that.” He lowered his hands and pulled the balaclava down to reveal a bearded face. He was smiling but his deep blue eyes were serious. My former boss was 31 years old, fit as a fiddle, and a handsome man. I shook my head and returned my gun to its holster.
“The beard is new,” I commented.
He smiled. “It was time for a change.”
“Where’d you get the hat?” I asked, squinting at the furry trapper hat.
“Your granny loaned it to me. She said I needed to learn about protecting my head and layering.” I smiled.
That sounded like Grandma Addie.
Raven walked up to me and we studied each other.
“You still hate me then, Liz?”
I met his stare. “I have unresolved issues, Raven.” I took my goggles off.
He grunted. “That’s a fancy way of saying you still hate me.” He pulled the balaclava back up over his mouth and stepped closer. “We need to talk.”
“You’re staying at the B&B?”
“I am. Your granny is lovely,” said Raven. I ignored the flattery.
“Come on,” I said shortly and walked fast, back toward the B&B. Raven settled in next to me. I led him into the B&B through the mudroom and down the hall to the kitchen. When I introduced him to Grace, she was friendly but I noticed she gave him an appraising look.
“Raven is my former boss, here for a visit,” I explained.
“I see,” said Grace. “How long will you be staying with us?”
“A week. It’s a long overdue vacation,” Raven replied and smiled. I was startled. A week? Shoot me now!
I brewed a cup of coffee for myself and gave Raven a cup of hot water and a tea bag. He rejected the single serve cups with tea in them as a sacrilege. Then we went into the dining room. Grandma and Nana Anna were at their table so I went over there first. I started to introduce Raven, but Grandma Addie interrupted.
“Good morning, Mr. Kearney. How are you, today?”
Mr. Kearney? I looked around expecting to see someone else behind us. A red-faced Raven replied,
“Excellent, Mrs. Bean. The accommodations are wonderful.”
“Please, call me Addie. You remember my sister, Anna?”
“Of course. Good morning,” he said and Anna returned the greeting. Like Grace, she was giving Raven a long look.
We chatted briefly. When Addie invited us to join them, I explained Raven was my former boss and we had a little business to discuss.