by Kieran York
A glint beamed from Godiva’s eyes and a smile rolled onto her face. “All I know is that the judge was served a Longhorn Kick made by the reporter. And,” Godiva began sputtering, “Marjorie Lovett can rename her drink. Longhorn Kick Off.”
“I don’t think this is funny!“ Royce’s shoulder’s stiffened. “And I doubt that Tyler would find anything humorous about it.”
“Tyler despised his father.”
“Your statement shouldn’t take long.”
The medical examiner looked up from the body. “No doubt in my mind. We’ve got a murder,” he pronounced.
Royce shut her eyes for a moment. No doubt in my mind either, she thought.
“Someone was trying to pickle the old dude,” the M.E. said.
“And succeeded.”
Royce turned and walked toward Jorie. Their eyes linked and Royce barely noticed that Gwen was approaching them. “Jorie,” Royce began, “I need to ask you to remove everything from your pockets.”
“Royce,” Gwen barked, “you can’t believe Jorie would have poisoned him?”
“Please do as I requested,” Royce insisted.
“I have nothing to hide.” Jorie reached into her rumpled field jacket pocket and pulled out a small packet. As if she’d expected it to be a chewing gum wrapper, Jorie unfolded it. She sucked in deeply for breath when she realized it contained a powdery substance.
“Drop it on the bar,” Royce instructed. She neared the wrapper that had been folded into a packet. After visually examining it and smelling the contents, Royce spoke. “Jorie, we’ll need to Mirandize you now and take you into custody.”
“Custody?“ the reporter questioned.
“I’m placing you under arrest. With this evidence, I believe there’s probably cause of arrest. An affidavit will go before the bench, and a determination made.” Royce took a long breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” Jorie’s voice rose.
Royce turned and motioned to a member of the forensic team. “Would you please take the wrapper into evidence?”
“I’ve never seen that wrapper before,” said Jorie. Her eyes darted from Gwen to Royce. “You’ve got to believe me.”
No, I don’t have to believe you, Royce thought to herself. “For the record, I would very much like to believe you.”
***
The cottage’s backyard offered Royce the same safe haven as her gran’s cabin always had. She sat on the swing and rocked, recounting the day’s events of horror. A murder had been committed before her eyes. A suspect was being held in the county jail. The suspect was a sister. And a beloved ex-lover of one of Royce’s best friends.
Hertha approached and Royce glanced into her face. The moonlight splashed against Hertha’s gloomy expression. When she sat beside Royce, diamond-shaped bars from the nearby trellis covered her. “Hon, it’s getting so cold out here, won’t you come in?”
“In a while.” Royce felt Hertha’s fingers chain her own. “I feel so helpless. The way Gwen looked at me.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“No, and the toxicology report confirmed a lethal dosage of strychnine. And it had to have been ingested at the party. Jorie was mixing the drinks. She had the evidence in her pocket. The lab report on the granules in the wrapper with those in the stein will take a few days. But there wasn’t anything on anyone else in the party.” Royce closed her eyes, and her long legs gave a slow shove to the swing.
“I thought I’d find you back here,” Gwen said as she rounded the cottage’s corner. “Royce, we need to talk. Do you mind, Hertha?”
“I’ll be inside. Can I bring you anything to drink?“ Hertha asked.
Both women declined. Gwen sat beside Royce. Silence was their referee. Finally Royce uttered, “I had to arrest her.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Gwen, two murders have been committed. All the evidence links her. People in this county may think the judge was a horse’s ass, but they won’t tolerate murder. I had to place Jorie in custody. She’s quick access out of the country, and a valid passport.”
“She isn’t a flight risk.”
“The county can’t take that chance. The DA made it clear. The county doesn’t want to play the extradition game, nor pay the expenses for it.”
“Royce, she didn’t do it.”
“The arrest affidavit will determine probable cause based on evidence. I don’t make that ruling. It will only take a couple of days, and then she’ll be free to make bond.”
“You don’t want to lose you the election, so you took the opportunity to jail my best friend.”
“Gwen, the election is probably already lost. Now I’m doing my job.”
“Hell’s bell, your job!“ Gwen spat.
“Let’s face it, it doesn’t look good. Jorie Lovett is at the very core of two murders. Even you have to admit that it gives us an awful lot of suspicious-looking evidence. First, she’s standing over a body holding the murder weapon. Second, she mixes the drink for a man who is murdered by poison. The time frame excludes any combination other than the one. The judge consumes the poison at the party. He dies. Traces of the same poison are found in a wrapper in her pocket. Jorie fixed the drink that killed him. You tell me that there is no reason to suspect Jorie.”
“I know her. She’s not capable of murder.”
“The world is filled with family and friends who believe their loved one innocent. Ask any mother if her son killed, and she’ll tell you no. I’m not saying that you’re the type to be taken in, but damn, Gwen, it doesn’t look good.”
“I know that. I do.” Gwen’s face turned and her eyes pinched shut. “But there are questions. Motive. Why would she set herself up like this? She’s bright enough to get the job done without standing over a body and holding the weapon. And slipping poison into a drink at a party in front of everyone to see.”
“Gwen, I’ve got strong reservations too. Yes, motive. Why? The judge made a weak inference that he expected more evidence to come to light. But if he had the information, I believe he would have had it out on the table. Again, it’s inconceivable she’d have kept the packet in her pocket. The logical thing would have been to dump the poison in the stein, then exit. Make a trip to the bathroom to flush the evidence.”
“It could have been planted on her.”
“Yes. Not likely, but not impossible.” Someone else could have put that packet of strychnine in her jacket pocket. Royce rubbed her temple. “Then there’s the question of availability. Uncut strychnine is difficult to obtain. Where would she get the poison?”
Gwen shrunk back against the swing. Her foot jammed down on the ground stopping the rhythmic swinging. “Royce, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Jorie didn’t kill anyone. I know that. But I’ve never kept secrets from you. Not ever. And I’m not going to begin now. I know the evidence is overwhelming. And what I’m about to tell you won’t help Jorie’s cause. Recently she mentioned something. It was at the party when the Holt woman was killed. Jorie had been complaining about the story being too mild. Said she liked the danger of covering war zone stories. She said that she thrived on danger. She was even given poison when covering a story in Saudi Arabia. There was always a chance of ' being taken prisoner. So someone gave her poison in case she would be captured. It was, she said, better than being tortured beyond her endurance. I recall she joked about it. But common sense says she would have destroyed it long ago. At any rate, there you have it. Availability.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Because of our friendship, I felt required to mention it.”
Gwen’s eyes misted. “I’m sure Jorie is innocent. But you need all the facts to prove that.”
“Yes.” Royce felt the word snag in her throat. “Sometimes I think the world would be better if it spun us all off. Forget gravity for one day and rid itself of the burden of humanity and its betrayal. We were born of broth, time, and mystery. The human species has always battled to survive. Yet there’
s energy left for nefarious acts of hatred, revenge, and treachery.”
They continued to swing for many minutes. Then Gwen stood and trudged away. Royce was heartsick. Smoky had jumped up on the swing. She crawled beside Royce. Her head rested on Royce’s leg. Royce’s hand automatically lowered and petted the dog. She had stopped swinging. Her thoughts seemed to halt. Royce pressed her face down onto Smoky’s head. “Betrayal is a murder weapon,” she whispered to Smoky. “It’s a lot like poison. With the exception of not killing the body. Betrayal does kill the corner of the soul where friendship should be secured by trust.”
Chapter 17
Royce was uncomfortable questioning Jorie about Gwen’s disclosure, but it needed to be done.
“Gwen told you that I’d been given a suicide ’dose' of poison while working on an assignment in the Middle East?”
“Yes.”
“I knew she would. She told me that there were never any secrets between the two of you.”
Royce blinked and her eyes cast downward. “Can you tell me if the poison was strychnine?”
“I’ve no earthly idea what it was. They said it was quick.”
“Tell me about what you do know. Did you keep it? Did you bring it back into the United States when you returned?”
Royce sat on the jail cell cot across from Jorie Lovett. She looked into eyes as mysterious as an opal. Jorie swallowed her grief and answered slowly, meditatively. “Royce, I had poison and to be honest, I did keep it after it was given to me. But when I arrived home, I destroyed it. Well, I didn’t destroy it. One of the other correspondents took it to make sure it wouldn’t get into the water supply or food chain. He was concerned that it be properly destroyed.”
“Before I leave, if you’d give me his name, I’ll check it out.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t keep it. My lover and I have a cat. That is one reason I’d never have brought poison into the house. Our kitten gives new meaning to curiosity.”
“You didn’t like the judge?”
“Not much. I don’t know why I even went to the little party. Gwen talked me into it. She can do that. I hope she convinced my lover to stay put. Gwen called her about making bail.”
“I’m sorry that we had to charge you.” Royce crossed her ankles and her frame sagged as she leaned back. “Most of the evidence is circumstantial, but all of it points in your direction.”
“That sounds as though you’ve got additional evidence.”
Royce thought about the forensic toxicology reports. She could still see the pinprick lines of various tests. “The tests indicate that the poison could have been cut from the same batch. I was hoping that they would conclusively show it couldn’t be. But the properties are in the right amounts.” Royce watched as Jorie’s face blanched. “And the only prints on the wrapper were yours. That would stand to reason. You unwrapped the packet in front of me. But those pieces of evidence are admissible. And they’ll go against you.”
“Defeated by forensic science.”
“It’s gotten pretty sophisticated. Yes, technology in crime-solving is amazing. But to the contrary, technology can also work for your defense. Jorie, you aren’t defeated.”
“Are you going to play the good cop now?”
“I’m not playing anything.” Royce crossed her arms. “This is no game.”
“Fine,” Jorie seethed like a lit fuse. Then her anger detonated. “But you must be giving me the prize for ignorance. Why would I have slipped poison in his drink? The one I prepared. It would have been easier to slip it into the food. I was one of the first ones to arrive, and I had the opportunity to have placed poison in a tidbit. Then I could have prepared his plate from the buffet that none of us got to sample. There would have been a myriad of ways to poison him without implicating myself. Hell, I’ve always kept the ingredients of the Longhorn Kick a secret. But I can tell you that there’s no strychnine in it.”
“Speaking of food, you look as though you haven’t eaten lately. Gwen’s worried about you too. You really should take care of yourself because you’re going to need to be on top of it. Stress tears you to pieces,” Royce cautioned. “And you’ll need to be strong.”
“Stop with the small talk. You’ve just jailed me for murder. You shouldn’t give a rat’s ass what becomes of me.” Jorie’s jaw clamped. “I didn’t kill anyone.” Her words were stones, settling with a thud.
Royce stood. “Do you have anything to tell me that might help me prove your innocence?”
“No.”
“If there’s anything you can think of, let me know. Jorie, you do understand the gravity of this situation?”
“Gravity,” Jorie repeated. “One of my colleagues always says there is no such thing as gravity. We’re held down because the earth sucks.”
Royce looked back through the bars at the shabby jail cell. “Your colleague might be on to something.”
***
Even crossing Main Street seemed a reminder of Royce’s burdens. She looked around Timber City and wondered how this tranquil mountain community could be in such turmoil. She remembered when most of her calls were for shoplifting. That presented little danger and less diplomacy. If the thief was over legal age, she would issue a ticket. If not, she would make her warning stick by taking the youth to see a jail cell. They were seldom caught with anything 'warm' in their pockets again. Events were manageable then. Not now.
Stress was making Royce’s thoughts scatter. She was worried about Nadine. Worried about the fact that she had become a co-conspirator in keeping Nadine’s confidence. Gwen wanted to know what was bothering Nadine. Now Royce knew and had promised not to tell. Royce also felt tortured each time she saw Rick Brown surveying the High Country Animal Clinic. She feared for Hertha. She also feared for Jorie. There was an unwritten law of sisterhood. But more. Royce’s instincts told her Jorie was innocent. And although Royce had almost resigned herself to losing the election, she was concerned about the impact on her life. And what that might mean to her future with Hertha.
Royce lectured herself to focus on one problem at a time. All of her concerns seemed intertwined with one another. The murder cases were overwhelming. She wondered if there were two separate murderers. The first murder appeared not to have been premeditated. No murder weapon was brought in. A fireplace poker is usually not the weapon of choice, but rather of chance. The second was surely premeditated. The first could have easily been committed by any of the suspects in the case, or by someone unknown. The second murder had closed the circle of suspects. It had to have been someone at the party.
The familiar static on her radio made her bristle each time she took a call. This time it was a fight at the Bell Ringer. Royce radioed that she was across the street and would take the call. When she did, she was glad that it was mid-afternoon. The barroom only had a few patrons.
Chairs had been overturned in a skirmish. Two drunken men were rolling on the floor. Their fists flailed. When they saw Royce standing above them, their fighting stopped.
“Both of you get up before you hurt yourselves.” She looked across the room at a chair that had been splintered. “I’ll expect you to two pay Faye for damages by this time tomorrow. And on your way out, straighten up the place. I see either of you in trouble again, and you’ll be marched off to the dungeon. Got it?“ She watched for their nods of agreement.
After they left, Royce slid into a booth opposite Faye. “Thanks, Royce. I tried bawling them out, but they were bent on creating a ruckus. They must think this is a goddamn prize fighting ring. Hell, tension is running high nowadays. With this murder business and the election, things are nutty.” She paused, looking away. “None of us want trouble aimed in our direction.”
“Meaning?”
“The Family Morals Coalition is scurrilous. Scurrilous. That’s the word Gwen used. They’re going around town claiming that they can ruin the trade for people in town. If we don’t vote for Dillon Granger and help them shut down the Times by canceling our ads, they’ll see
that we’re boycotted.”
Royce’s head sagged. Her throat constricted. “But what makes them think they can do that? It’s extortion.”
“They say that you and Gwen are both working against the investigation. That you’re both covering up for Jorie.”
“I haven’t covered anything up. I arrested her. But the evidence is circumstantial. And she is innocent until a court finds her guilty and sentences her. I’ve done my duty as prescribed by the law. No more; and certainly no less.” Royce stood. “I hope the town doesn’t buy into this trash.”
“I sure as hell don’t plan on voting for Granger. And if I ever cancel my advertising in the Times, it will be because the old fart across the street misspelled Bell Ringer.”
Royce’s chuckle was unexpected and felt good. “Thanks, Faye. By the way, have you seen Laramie around?”
“He was in right after the fuss began. Took a look around and muttered that the place looked as miserable as an empty bottle. He’ll probably be out watching for Rick Brown.”
“I owe him. You too.”
“You and Molly have taken care of him since Grady was killed. Making sure he didn’t freeze to death. And me, well, you’re always there for me. Always watched out for my kid too. Royce, people hereabouts know the things you’ve done for this town. They won’t listen to the hate.”
***
By the time Royce went off duty, she was exhausted. When she saw Laramie seated on the curb across from the clinic, she walked over and sat beside the bowed man. “Laramie, how’s it going?”
“Got it all wrong. Faye’s cooler was damaged during the ruckus today. Beer’s hotter than a two-buck shotgun. Hell, beer’s supposed to be cold and bed’s supposed to be warm. My beer’s warm and my bed’s cold.”
Royce’s lips curled upward. “Heat hasn’t gone on over at the boarding house yet?”
“Naw. Landlady’s so tight she must have buffalo poop in her hands every time she spends a nickel.”