Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “I’m fine.” I shivered as the wind whistled by my face.

  “Good, then would you mind telling me what happened here? An hour ago, you said you thought Dale Pratt had killed his father-in-law. What changed?”

  My teeth chattered and Jake moved next to me to block the wind. “An hour ago I didn’t know who Penelope’s real father was. Dale only cared about the house. He needed the money from the sale. Everyone knew Harold was tightfisted with money. Dale didn’t hatch the plan to sell the house until after Harold was dead, so it wasn’t likely he’d be at the house arguing with his father-in-law.”

  “Okay, so with Dale eliminated, what did you do next?”

  “I thought about the most likely person to be with Harold after his golf game. Since he was drunk and his cart was broken, I figured someone had to have driven him home. Then when I saw the golf club buried over there, I realized where Penelope had gotten her rather sizable nose.”

  “Bert Crosby.” Grady yelled into his radio, “We’ve got evidence, boys. Get someone over here now.” To me, he said, “Do you think you can help us find it?”

  I glanced around wondering exactly how far back in the trees we were. “I know. Call my cell phone. I probably dropped it near the club.”

  We followed the ringing sound, which led us straight to the phone and the evidence.

  “We got it,” the deputy said as he crouched over the club. “It’s a four iron.”

  “Four iron?” Grady stared at the object. “Is that Harold’s missing club?”

  I nodded. “My guess is that Bert grabbed Harold’s off the wall to clobber him when he threatened to tell everyone how he’d abandoned Beverly. Then he replaced Harold’s with his own and came out here to bury Harold’s.”

  “Then how did Curtis get Bert’s club?”

  “Dale was trying to make his mother look senile, so he put the club on Curtis’s porch to find and said his mother had done it.” I rubbed at my arms.

  Jake took off his jacket and slipped it over my shoulders. “Grady, can we do this back at the house? She’s freezing.”

  He nodded. “Sure thing. But first, tell me how a little thing like you was able to get the upper hand on that hulk, Bert?”

  “I just used my head...and my leg.”

  Grady reached up under his hat and scratched his head. “I see. Well, I’ll be up to the house in a while to get a full statement.”

  As Jake led us toward the clearing, I called back to Grady, “Hey, sheriff, tell Sherry I’ll see her next week at kickboxing.”

  “YOU SIT HERE AND I’LL get something to clean off those scrapes.” Jake threw a blanket over me as I sat on the sofa next to the stove. He shook his head as he headed into the kitchen. “I can’t believe you thought I might have killed Harold.”

  “But you were missing when the explosion went off, and when you showed up, you smelled like gasoline.”

  He came back with a wet washcloth and sat next to me. “I smelled like gasoline because I had just come back from filling up my truck.” He held my hand, dabbing it gently to wipe away the blood.

  “But you chased me.”

  “Not far. I would have, but...”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve got a bad hip. And leg.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  He looked at the rag as though it held a memory. “It was early on when I was with the bureau. I got shot in the line of duty. Got a new hip, of course, but it just doesn’t work the same.” He stood up. “We need coffee.”

  I watched him walk back to the kitchen and for the first time noticed the slightest hint of a limp. I stared at my hand, imagining what might have happened if I hadn’t gotten the gun away from Bert. My little scratches seemed hardly worth worrying about. “Does it hurt?” I asked when he returned with the coffee.

  “What? My leg? Only when I run.” He took a sip.

  “Well, since you didn’t follow me, how did you find me?”

  A sheepish grin crept over his face. “Remember that high-powered telescope you were worried I would get?” He nodded. “Yeah, I have one. It’s on the roof of the garage.”

  “Stalker!”

  “Only stars, well, usually. I saw you go into the woods and waited for you to come out. Then I saw the whole encounter with Bert and called 9-1-1.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I was so worried we wouldn’t get to you on time.”

  “But you did.” I felt myself starting to float into his eyes again. I blinked. “Why did you leave the FBI?”

  “Do we really need to talk about this now?”

  “Yes. I want to know.”

  “After my injury, I got assigned a desk job. It wasn’t for me.”

  I was about to say something about his current job, but he stopped me.

  “I know. I have a desk job now. But this is different. It’s on my terms. It was too hard to stay at the bureau and watch the men and women I had trained with go off and work in the field when I couldn’t. So I quit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I like my job. I like being here.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant here in Cascada or here next to me on the sofa. Before I could speculate on which one I’d prefer, there was one more mystery I needed him to clear up. “The other day when Grady pulled us over, he said something about making one phone call and you’d be finished. What was that about?”

  “My mother.”

  I laughed. “He was going to tattle on you to your mother? What? Are you scared of her?”

  “Have you ever met Senator Louisa Faro?”

  “Your mother’s a senator?”

  “Yes, state, not US. Not yet. But she’s powerful and ambitious and has long apron strings. She keeps close tabs on Nancy and me so we won’t do anything to embarrass her or waylay her political career.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s the reason I moved back here when I left the bureau. He got sick and Mother was too busy to care for him.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No worries. How’s your head?”

  I imagined I looked wretched. “I don’t know, I haven’t looked in the mirror.”

  He brushed back my hair. “You’ve got quite a goose egg there. I thought you said Bert didn’t hit you.”

  I reached up and touched the bulge that started throbbing as soon as I became aware of it. “It must have happened when he face-planted me to take away his phone.”

  A car pulling up out front drew our attention.

  Jake looked out the window. “That’s Grady. Do you want me to stay here or leave?”

  I tilted my aching head. “Do you really have to ask?”

  He opened the door and Cricket ran inside in front of the sheriff. She jumped on my lap and began licking her paw.

  Grady scowled. “Hey, is that cat a stray?”

  “No, she’s mine.”

  “Well, you need to get a collar on her before she gets picked up by animal control. Stray cats are a menace.”

  “That’s what you think,” I said. “Wait until you hear how I found the murder weapon.”

  Chapter 28

  The next few weeks flew by. I survived Christmas with my parents, opened a bank account, and got a loan for the new studio. Curtis was more than obliging when I went in to borrow the money. The arrest of Bert Crosby was the talk of the town, although I tried to keep a low profile, especially since I was letting my bumps and bruises heal.

  Jake and Nancy spent the holidays with their mother in Santa Fe. Apparently, Senator Faro had a new boyfriend and insisted her children spend time with him. When they got back on Thursday, Nancy and I arranged to meet on the next afternoon to close on my new office space.

  I sat in her office, complaining about the cramp in my hand from all the signing. “Does mortgage insurance pay for physical therapy?” I asked, flexing my wrist.

  We waited for her secretary to mak
e copies of all the paperwork. “You’ll survive,” she said. “But you know what’s good for hand strain, don’t you?”

  “If you say yoga, I’m walking out.”

  “I was going to say ice cream, but your idea might work.”

  “Ice cream? It’s freezing outside. I wouldn’t be surprised if it snows tonight.”

  Nancy shook her head. “You’ll get used to the cold. You’ll see.”

  “Right. Like I’ll get used to scorpions or root canals. Let’s just go to the new building. I’m anxious to see how it looks without my rose-colored glasses on. You don’t think I’ll be disappointed, do you?”

  “Um, not hardly. I mean, we’ll see, I guess.” When the secretary returned, Nancy gave me my copies, saying, “Give me just a minute, and I’ll be back with the keys.”

  In just a few days it would be a new year, and I was ready to get on with my life. I checked the weather app on my phone. Just as I suspected, it looked like snow was possible for later in the evening. I wondered how that would affect Cricket. Did cats get cold outside even though they have on fur coats?

  “Let’s go,” Nancy said. “We can walk from here.”

  “What about the keys?”

  She frowned at me. “I can’t just hand them over to you here. That would take all the fun out of it. I want to wait until we’re standing in front of it and make a whole ceremony out of it.”

  “You’re so cute,” I said. “Okay, let’s go.”

  When we got down to the corner, Jake was leaning against the wall.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Nancy said you were finalizing things on the building, and I thought I’d tag along for the big reveal. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. This is a big moment and you two are my best friends.”

  Nancy told me to close my eyes and led me to the front door. She made me stand with my back to the building.

  “This is a little silly,” I said. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

  “Well, not all of them.” She had a wicked grin on her face. I let her have her fun.

  “Wendy Fairmont. You—along with Southwest Citizens Bank— are now the proud owner of Cascada’s newest business.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t say, ‘till death do you part.’”

  “Okay. Then, I now pronounce you building and owner.” She held out the keys.

  I took them in my hand and for a minute, just stared at them. It was another watershed moment in my life. When I spun around to face the building, Jake was gone. A dim glow shined through the front windows. Nancy opened the door and pushed me inside.

  “Surprise!” a crowd of people roared and clapped.

  It took a minute for my brain to catch up with my eyes and ears. Twinkle lights had been strung around the entire space. Their sparkle danced off the shiny wood floor. A banner hung on the wall that read “Congratulations Wendy!”

  Jake stood next to Mr. Cranston, grinning like a kid.

  I put my hands to my face. “What’s going on?”

  Nancy waved her hand. “Everyone wanted to come and thank you for single-handedly catching Harold Attwood’s killer.”

  “I can’t believe you did all this! Look, there’s Tuna Casserole, and Chicken Spaghetti, and even Rarely Wears Pants. And he’s wearing pants!”

  “They have names,” Nancy whispered in my ear.

  “I know. I’ll make a point to learn them.”

  Mr. Cranston tapped on his microphone. “Attention, everyone. I’d like to say a few words.” He motioned for me to join him. “On behalf of the whole town of Cascada, I’d like to officially welcome back one of our own native daughters, Wendy Fairmont.”

  More clapping by the crowd and more blushing by me.

  “Not only did she rid this town of one of its biggest parasites, she gave us an excuse to have one final skate around on the old rink before it officially becomes a—what is it?” he leaned down and asked. I whispered in his ear. “Ah. A photography studio. Isn’t that nice. Now grab your skates and start the music!” He started to turn off the mike but stopped. “One more thing. Food and drinks should be kept in the snack bar only, no chewing gum, no racing, and no excessive displays of affection. Now, everyone, have fun!”

  Someone turned on the music, and a party broke out. I felt like a celebrity with so many people coming up to give me a hug or shake my hand. Some people snapped my picture while others took selfies with me. Lots of people said they couldn’t wait to have me take their pictures when the studio opened.

  When I finally came up for air, I saw Jake standing by the rail, holding an extra pair of skates. I looked at him and mouthed the words, “For me?”

  He grinned and nodded.

  I made my way over to where he was standing. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  “Do I look like a party planner? Nah, it was the Ladies’ Guild and Nancy.”

  I kissed his cheek and took off my boots. Luckily, Mr. Cranston had broken out his old stash of skates for everyone to use.

  “Watch out. You heard Mr. Cranston. No excessive displays of affection.”

  Before I could say anything, he looked up and pointed. “See? Now you did it. Cranston called the cops on you.”

  Sure enough, Sheriff Grady was heading toward us. “Hey there. I just wanted to thank you again for helping me catch Bert Crosby.”

  Helping? I let it go.

  “When we threw all the evidence at him, he finally confessed. Andy finally realized it was Bert and not Dale he heard arguing with Harold.”

  I shook my head. “I feel so guilty about Andy. If I hadn’t told Bert he was working on the golf cart at Beverly’s, he never would have ended up in the hospital.”

  “What? I thought you’d heard. Bert wasn’t responsible for the fire. The investigation showed it was caused by the battery in the golf cart. It had gotten too dry and exploded.”

  “Really? That’s great! I mean, that’s terrible.” I bit my lip.

  “Yeah. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Sherry and the kids are outside in the car. I have to tell you, she was speechless when I told her how you took down Bert single-handedly. And trust me, Sherry is never speechless.”

  I hear that. “Give her my regards, sheriff, and thanks for stopping by.”

  He tipped his hat.

  Jake nudged me with his elbow. “Look who’s buddies with the sheriff. Looks like someone’s wormed their way into the hearts of this town.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, I finished lacing my skates.

  Jake helped me up, and we took baby steps toward the rink. Mr. Cranston cranked up “Thriller.” “Are you ready for this?” I asked.

  “It’s now or never.” He waited for a break in the pack and then led me onto the floor. After a few wobbles, I got the feel for it again and glided around the floor holding on to his arm. Everyone smiled at us. There were thumbs up. A few of the older men winked and blew me kisses.

  “Jealous?” I asked Jake when a man in cowboy hat and bolo tie asked me to marry him.

  “Nah. There’s always Karol down at the Kafé.”

  Mr. Cranston’s voice blared over the speaker. “Okay, boys and girls. It’s time for the moonlight dance. Grab your sweetie and hit the floor. But remember—”

  “No excessive displays of affection,” we all yelled out in unison.

  As we circled the floor, I saw Nancy skating with Bobby from Bobby’s Barbecue. Maybe there was a story there. I knew she was a friend I could trust with my deep, dark secrets. I made up my mind to tell her about my brother and Patrick and the accident. Maybe she could help me solve the mystery and finally put that part of my past to rest.

  Jake squeezed my hand. “Feels good to fit in, am I right?”

  “It does. Who knew I could actually fit in by standing out?”

  “You did. And speaking of standing out, did you come up with a name for the new studio?”

  “Actually, I did.”

  “So what i
s it going to be? Portraits by Wendy?”

  “Nope. I decided to call it the Foto Factory.” I grinned at him. “That’s photo, spelled with an F.”

  THE END

  Freeze Frame

  Copyright © 2018 Lisa B. Thomas

  Cozy Stuff and Such, LLC

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  The stench of cheap wine and stale cigarettes seeped from the old clown’s pores. Greasy face paint failed to conceal his graying whiskers. His bloodshot eyes matched the color of the rubber ball on his nose. The only thing vaguely convincing about his circus get-up was the pair of oversized shoes with holes in the soles.

  This clown was a mess.

  For once, it wasn’t my problem though. In my former job as a party planner, I’d have had to pour coffee down the guy’s throat to sober him up or try to find a last-minute replacement. Even though working at a child’s birthday party is something akin to a root canal, it’s a whole lot easier when you’re the photographer rather than the event coordinator. And it paid nicely, which I knew my friends, Mr. Visa and Mr. Mastercard, would appreciate.

  I felt sorry for Gwen Palmer, event planner extraordinaire, as she scrambled to pull everything together for the Harper girl’s fifth birthday party with less than a half hour to go. It was a three-ring circus...literally.

  The Harpers were rich. There, I said it. I know it’s not polite to talk about money, but when you don’t have much, it’s a shame to see it wasted on a five-year-old who won’t remember all you did for her in a week’s time. That’s the problem with kids—no long-term appreciation. You can be their favorite person one minute, but as soon as you take a bite out of the cookie they were promised for cleaning their plate, you’re suddenly one step below the booger picker who pulls their hair at recess.