Murder on Ice

by B. T. Lord

  In the four corners of the room, the artist had painted what looked like three dimensional vibrant yellow folds of a robe. On each side of the folds was a wand. The lamps on either side of the king size bed looked like huge crystal balls and a winged angel was carved on the elaborate foot and headboards, with the name Ariel etched above each carving. To the left of the door was an antique four-drawer dresser with a twelve inch ceramic statue of a wizard on top of it. He wore a black robe decorated with yellow half moons and suns and he had a carved flowing white beard that reached down to his waist. His left hand was extended in the air. In his palm, he held a sky blue colored ball. All in all, it looked like a bedroom Merlin would have been right at home in. Now it was occupied by a sports agent and his vacuous trophy wife.

  “I should probably get the recorder before we start,” Cammie said as she started to rise from her chair.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like what I have to say off the record.”

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “I think you’ll understand when I done.”

  Cammie slowly sat back down and waited for him to begin.

  “First, I’d like to apologize for dropping in on you so unexpectedly last night. I can only imagine what you’re going through, even if you are the investigating officer. I’ve been hearing around town that you arrested your boyfriend for Eli’s murder.”

  “I did, but we’re still looking at persons of interest.”

  “Understandable. Secondly, I’m sorry for losing my composure the way I did.”

  “You were his friend.”

  “We were like brothers. I still can’t believe--” He stopped and Cammie saw his eyes fill up again. To hide his discomfort, he dug into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. “I managed to get the name of the investigating officer that you asked for last night. That’s his cell. I told him to expect a call from you.”

  “Does he still have the notes?”

  “He’s pretty sure they’re still in the files. He said he’d take a look first thing this morning.”

  Cammie put the piece of paper in her desk. “I appreciate that, Mr. Tyler.”

  “Lehane, please.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Eli told me all about you and him. He said you were one helluva hockey player.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “You don’t play anymore?”

  That familiar ache filled her heart. “Don’t have much time these days.”

  “You know, Eli loved the fame. He loved the adulation. He especially loved the women.” Lehane smiled to himself. “But there was always one constant in his life. Through all the ups and downs, through the wins and the losses, the pain of injuries and just facing the fact that he was getting too old for the game, he always had his love for you. Knowing him, he probably didn’t tell you that. But I want you to know. I think he would have wanted you to know too.”

  Cammie unconsciously squirmed in her chair. She was now grateful that Lehane asked her not to use the recorder. Last night’s conversation had been difficult enough without adding this to the mix. But at least she now knew Eli’s declaration hadn’t been a crock after all.

  Yippee.

  She paused for a moment, then looked up to meet Lehane’s gaze. “Did Eli ever talk to you about taking his own life?”

  Lehane jerked his head up and stared at her. “What are you trying to say?”

  “What I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential.”

  “I understand.”

  “The coroner believes that Eli tried to commit suicide. He was close to death when he was shot.”

  Lehane fell back in his chair, his face draining of color. “Dear God…”

  For a moment Cammie thought he was going to be sick. She started to reach for her small wastepaper basket when the next sound made her jump out of her chair.

  Lehane was bent over, his face chalk white, gasping for air. His hands were clawing at his chest.

  Jesus! He’s having a heart attack.

  She started to run to him when he pointed to his coat. “Pills. Inside pocket. Hurry,” he gasped. In two strides she was at the coat rack and digging through his coat pocket. Her fingers closed around a prescription bottle. Pulling it out, she somehow managed to pop the top despite shaking hands. Lehane grabbed the bottle, sending white pills flying everywhere. While he popped two into his mouth, Cammie shoved her half empty mug of coffee at him, which he drank to down the pills. She squatted next to his chair, grateful to see, after a few tense moments, color slowly returning to his face.

  “Do you need me to call the doctor?”

  “No. I should be fine in a few moments.” He looked up at her, shamefaced. “I have a bad ticker. I need pills to regulate my heartbeat. What you just told me was too much of a shock…”

  He rested his head back against the chair and closed his eyes while Cammie quickly scooped up the pills that had spilled on the floor.

  “Maybe I should drive you back to the Inn. We can have someone return your car later.”

  Lehane waved his hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. In a few minutes, I’ll be able to dance a two-step. Honest.”

  He still looked sick, his head beaded with perspiration. But his breathing had normalized.

  “I’d like to have a memorial service before the cremation. Do you have any idea when we can claim the--” He stopped short.

  Still watching him carefully, Cammie leaned back against her desk. “I’ll ask the coroner and get back to you.” Lehane stood up a little unsteadily. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked.

  He waved his hand at her. “I’m fine. I’d better get back to the inn. Audella doesn’t like to be alone. Especially in a place where there are no department stores. At least up here I don’t have to worry about her blowing through her monthly allowance. Again.” He started to leave, then turned back to her. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t let Audella know about my little attack here. She worries so much about me. And what with Eli’s untimely death…”

  “I won’t say anything.”

  He smiled at her. After throwing his coat on, he waved to her, then left.

  Cammie sat back at her desk and heaved a long, heavy sigh.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  After being told by Forensics they hoped to have preliminary results of their findings within the next few days, Cammie next called the detective who had investigated the threats against Eli. His name was Henry Lansing and, just as Lehane had said, he was expecting her call, picking up his cell on the second ring.

  “I don’t envy you,” he said, his low baritone chuckling into her ear. “It’s never easy taking on a large profile case.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’ll fax you the notes, but I wouldn’t waste too much time on them. We investigated the joker who sent them. A wannabe hockey player who ended up with four kids and a house in the burbs he can barely afford. Lived his dream through Kelley. Harmless schlub.”

  “And there was no one else with an axe to grind who might follow him out to Maine?”

  “Not to our knowledge and believe me, we did a thorough investigation. We didn’t want the shit hitting the fan if we allowed one of our sports heroes to buy the farm on our watch. To put your mind at rest, I’ll check it out, but I wouldn’t pin my hopes on having this guy be the perp.”

  Cammie had an inkling this would be a dead end, but a small part of her had clung to the hope that this could veer the investigation away from Jace. She thanked him, gave him the number of their fax machine and hung up. A few minutes later, she was looking at faxed copies of the notes. They were written in a backwards slant, looking nothing like the meticulously cut out letters on the notes Eli had received since arriving at Twin Ponds. It occurred to her that the writer of the notes may have deliberately cut out letters because his handwriting was recognizable. Writing that Cammie, at first sight, would have identified. Which pointed to a local. Which, un
fortunately, pointed to Jace.

  Not the result she was looking for.

  Sighing, she glanced at the clock and saw it was ten thirty in the morning. If she was smart, she’d go to Zee’s and grab a quick bite to eat before the lunch crowd came in and massacred her. It was either that or steal one of Emmy’s Twinkies.

  She called Zee and told him to keep his back door unlocked. She then managed to make it out of the station unseen and stay off Main Street, sliding into Zee’s back door five minutes later.

  For the first time that day, there was a lull at headquarters. None of the townspeople had shown up or called, and the reporters were huddled outside on the sidewalk acting civilized for once. Although he always made it a point to stay out of people’s business, Rick was drawn to go out back and check on Jace.

  He’d witnessed the cold reception Cammie received that morning when she’d tried to say good morning. Jace had remained angrily silent, lying on the cot with his back to her. Part of Rick understood the young man’s feelings. He knew how much Jace loved Cammie and it must be tough being arrested by the woman you loved. But as a police officer, he was trained to see the bigger picture. Unfortunately, Jace looked guilty as hell right now, no matter how Cammie or the town felt about him.

  He made his way down the corridor and saw the breakfast he’d brought in for Jace still lying on the floor untouched. To all appearances, Jace hadn’t moved from that morning. He was still lying on the cot with his back to the bars.

  “Hey bro, you should have told me you weren’t going to eat that omelet. I would have traded you the stale bagel I got stuck with this morning.”

  No answer.

  Rick leaned up against the bars. “I know this is none of my business, but she had no choice.”

  Silence. For a moment Rick thought the young man was going to ignore him as well. Just as he was ready to give up, Jace shifted in the cot.

  “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

  “I’ll just say one more thing, then shut up. Cammie is the best chance you’ve got to prove your innocence. Nobody in this town or in the surrounding towns has the experience she has. If anybody can find out what really happened, it’s her.”

  “You’re wasting your breath, Belleveau. She’s convinced I’m a murderer.”

  “You’re wrong, bro. She’s out there right now trying to find anything that will prove you didn’t do it.”

  It was a white lie. He knew she was probably stuffing her face at Zee’s. But he knew Cammie. He knew she wasn’t going to rest until she made all the pieces fit. And right now, Jace was a piece that didn’t fit.

  He waited once more for Jace to respond. But as the silence grew and deepened, he knew Jace had slumped back into his surly depression. He shrugged and turned away. Well, at least he couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.

  And there really was no point in letting a good omelet go to waste.

  Cammie sat at the bar stool furthest away from the picture window and watched as Zee slid a shot glass full of scotch in front of her.

  “Is this your answer for every dilemma?” she asked.

  “Hasn’t hurt yet, has it? Now that you’re Typhoid Mary, you’re lucky I didn’t make it a double.”

  She eyed the glass for a moment, but it was only ten thirty in the morning. She pushed it aside, but not too far. Just in case.

  “Any chance I can get a burger?”

  “Tired of living on corn flakes, eh?”

  “Jesus, is everything in my life an open book?”

  Zee shrugged. “Compared to everyone else’s life around here, you’re a regular Christopher Columbus. You’ve gone out and explored the four corners of the world. Get used to it.”

  “I can live with Christopher Columbus. It’s being called Benedict Arnold that bothers me.”

  Zee lifted a playful eyebrow. “That’s not what I’ve heard you being called.”

  “I don’t want to know.” However a moment later, she glanced at him from beneath her brow. “That bad, huh?”

  “Let’s just say I’d take an armed guard wherever I go. Especially if Jace doesn’t play in tomorrow night’s game.”

  “That’s not up to me.”

  “That’s not what people think.”

  Cammie let out a frustrated breath. “What was I supposed to do? If it had been anybody else we’d found at the scene with that kind of evidence, the people would be up in arms if I didn’t arrest them right away.”

  “But that ‘anybody else’ probably wouldn’t be someone you’d been sleeping with. Or whose exploits on the ice mean so much to this town.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe the rumors that I set Jace up to cover up this alleged affair I was having with Eli?”

  Zee looked up from polishing the glasses. “Cammie, if I thought that, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Thank you for believing me.”

  “I know you’re a damned good police officer. You wouldn’t have arrested Jace without probable cause.” He leaned over the bar. “Tell me though. Do you honestly believe Jace did it?”

  She took a moment to answer. “The evidence is so overwhelming.”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to believe he did it. Which is why I’m doing my best to find evidence to the contrary.”

  Zee gave a short nod. “That’s good enough for me.”

  He set about making her a burger, padding it with extra meat so she wouldn’t have to face another bowl of cereal any time soon. After loading it with tomatoes, lettuce, mushrooms, two slices of cheese and a generous portion of sweet potato fries, he placed the plate in front of her. Her eyes lit up with both delight and hunger.

  “I hope the day never comes when you turn your back on me,” she said between mouthfuls of tasty burger.

  Knowing that a half empty box of corn flakes was waiting for her at home, she took her time with the burger, savoring every bite. Just as she was about to pop the last bit into her mouth, she heard a set of footsteps coming towards her from the back of Zee’s.

  “You’re a regular escape artist, you know that?”

  She looked up to see a short man clad in a dark blue parka walking towards her. He was busy removing his gloves and had shoved his hood back, revealing a balding head with wisps of grey hair carefully combed across its pale expanse. His round, pockmarked face reminded her of a rat’s, his eyes made larger by the coke bottle wire rimmed glasses he wore.

  “I’ve been trying to see you since yesterday.”

  Before he could approach any closer, Zee, in a quick elegant step that belied his bulk, planted himself directly in the man’s path.

  “You’re on private property,” he said, his voice low, but his intention clear.

  “I thought this was a public establishment.”

  “I decide who comes in here. And you’re not on my VIP list.”

  “Jeez, give me a break. I’m just trying to do my job. You might have heard of me. I’m Eddie Paltrow, sportswriter for the Chicago Telegraph. I’ve been covering Eli Kelley since he played for the Blackhawks ten years ago. Pleased to meet you, sheriff.” He tried to get his outstretched hand past Zee, but the burly restaurateur expertly blocked him.

  “We’re not open yet, so I suggest you leave right now.”

  “I just want a few words with the sheriff. Is it true you were once involved with the victim? Is it true you’re now involved with the murderer? Isn’t that pushing the bounds of objectivity?”

  He was cut short when Zee bodily picked him up and started towards the back door. “Hey, you can’t do that! I’ll have you up on assault charges!”

  “Only if you have a witness and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t see anybody else in this restaurant.”

  Cammie listened as Paltrow continued ranting and raving. Then the noise abruptly ceased. A few moments later, she saw Zee returning.

  “You thr
ow him in the dumpster?” she asked as she calmly finished her sweet potato fries.

  “There’s usually where garbage belongs. It’s my fault he got in. I should have locked the back door after you.”

  “Unfortunately, he’s only asking what every reporter is asking. As much as I loathe the idea, I’m going to have to give a press conference or else they’ll be camped out on my cabin doorstep.”

  “Don’t assume they’re not already.” He took his customary place behind the bar and resumed polishing the glasses. “You know Cam, my office has a couch, as well as a bathroom with a shower. If things get too hairy, you’re more than welcome to shack up out back until things blow over.”

  She looked up at Zee and smiled for the first time that day. “Thanks Zee. I really appreciate that.” She stood up. “How much for the burger?”

  “It’s on the house. You’re going to need your strength during the next few days, and corn flakes just aren’t going to cut it.” She zipped up her parka and turned to leave. “Damn, I almost forgot. I don’t know if this is helpful, but Wanda’s been acting a bit funny lately.”

  “How do you mean funny?”

  “Hard to put into words. But she’s just not herself. She stayed open late the night Eli was killed.”

  Cammie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “I saw the lights on with my own eyes.”

  Wanda Simms owned the beauty shop across the street from Zee’s, and next to the parking lot where Zee’s customers usually parked. No matter the occasion, it was well known throughout town that Wanda always closed up at 6:00 pm sharp. Her six year old daughter was looked after by an elderly neighbor who called her sister in Boston every night promptly at 6:30. Unwilling to talk on the phone with a rambunctious child running about the house, she insisted Wanda pick her child up before placing the long distance phone call. The fact that Wanda had stayed late was worth looking into.

  “Thanks Zee. I’ll go talk to her. If anything else comes up, no matter how trivial--”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Cammie was halfway to the door when her cell phone rang. When she dug it out of her pocket, she saw that it was Rick.