by Lauren Carr
Killer
in the
Band
A Lovers in Crime Mystery
By
Lauren Carr
Killer in the Band: Book Information
All Rights Reserved © 2016 by Lauren Carr
Published by Acorn Book Services
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
For information call: 304-995-1295
or Email: [email protected]
This book 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 or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Killer in the Band: Book Information
Dedication
Cast of Characters
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
About the Author
Check Out Lauren Carr’s Mysteries!
A Fine Year for Murder
Dedication
To My Readers
Cast of Characters
(in order of appearance)
Detective Cameron Gates: Pennsylvania State Police Homicide Detective. Joshua Thornton’s wife, mother to Izzy, and stepmother to his five grown children.
Suellen Russell: Owner of Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards, family owned and managed for several generations. Former leader of the Reading Railroad Band, a rock group in the 1980s that was a minor success. More recently, conductor of the Philadelphia Philharmonic.
Catherine Calhoun (formerly Cat Foxworth): Ex-backup singer with Reading Railroad Band. Now she’s a school teacher.
Dylan Matthews: Lead singer for the Reading Railroad Band. This heartthrob was one of the reasons for the band’s success.
Wendy Matthews: Dylan’s sister. Played the drums in the Reading Railroad Band. She was gothic before goth was cool.
Harrison Calhoun: Guitarist with the Reading Railroad Band. Now he works in public relations.
Keith Black: Bass player with Reading Railroad Band. Named after Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. Modeled his life after his namesake.
Joshua Thornton: Hancock County Prosecuting Attorney and former JAG lawyer. His five children from his previous marriage are now grown. Married to Detective Cameron Gates. They share an adopted daughter, Izzy.
Donny Thornton: Joshua’s youngest son. Eighteen-years-old. Last child to leave the nest.
Irving: Cameron’s Maine Coon cat. Irving has issues. You’d have issues, too, if you looked like a skunk.
Admiral: Joshua’s Irish Wolfhound-Great Dane dog. Irving’s friend. His only issue is climbing up onto the furniture when he thinks no one is watching.
Joshua Thornton Jr (J.J.): Joshua Thornton’s eldest son. Recently graduated from Penn State Law School at the top of his class. Now he is supposed to be studying for his bar exam.
Dr. Tad MacMillan: Chester’s home town doctor and Hancock County Medical Examiner.
Izzy (Isadora): Joshua and Cameron’s adopted thirteen year old daughter. She loves animals.
Charley: Huge white rooster at Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards. Most places have watchdogs. Russell Farm has a watch rooster.
Clyde Brady: Manager of the Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards. In his early seventies, he had worked at the farm his whole adult life. As manager, he and his wife live on a small farm next to the Russell farm, across the Pennsylvania state line. His wife of fifty years was brutally murdered several months ago. Cameron is investigating the case.
Monica Brady: Clyde’s wife. Brutally murdered.
Sheriff Curt Sawyer: Hancock County’s sheriff.
Noah: Young farm hand. He’s got a way with animals.
Poppy Ashburn: Horse trainer. Some think she’s a horse whisperer. Donny thinks she’s a Jedi.
Gulliver: Poppy’s horse. A leopard Appaloosa, he is white with chestnut colored spots all over his body.
Comanche: A palomino mare at Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards. After years of neglect, she finds friends at Russell Farm.
Tom Perkins: Foreman of the orchards at Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards.
Silas Starling: Extremely devoted friend, manager, and husband of Wendy Matthews.
Karrie: Blogger and writer. Fan of Wendy Matthews. Offers to help Cameron prove Silas killed the gothic rock star. She’s a vampire.
Andy Simmons: Farmer. Clyde and Monica Brady’s neighbor.
Detective Lillian Cross: Homicide detective with the West Virginia State Police.
Epigraph
“We think of first love as sweet and valuable, a blessed if hazardous condition.”
Roger Ebert
Prologue
Eleven Years Ago—Dixmont State Hospital, Outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
“Hard to believe this was once a state-of-the-art psychiatric hospital,” the young Pennsylvania state trooper said to his partner, an older officer who seemed unimpressed with the long history of the century-old hospital that rested on top of a hill overlooking a major freeway and railroad tracks.
Heavily damaged by fire and decades of neglect, the complex’s main building had once been a historic landmark, a toast to what had been considered cutting-edge psychiatric treatment back in the 1800s. More than a century later, the many buildings that made up the facility lay in ruins, decaying, and the grounds were overgrown and covered in trash left by kids, psychics, and filmmakers.
“Only goes to show you how quickly the state of the art can become out of date,” the older officer grumbled. “Do you have any idea how many crazies died here? How many are buried in that cemetery?”
“Which is why it’s one of the most haunted places in the world.” The young officer uttered a sinister laugh.
“Shut up.”
An unmarked police car rounded the curve in the road that weaved up the long hill from the highway down below. Recognizing the woman driving the cruiser, the older trooper muttered something under his breath.
“What is it?” his partner asked.
“Gates.”
“Huh?”
Before the older officer could answer, the unmarked car pulled into a parking space next to their cruiser.
“Detective Cameron Gates,” the older trooper said in a low voice as he watched the slender woman with shaggy cinnamon-colored hair climb out of the cruiser. “Was on leave most of last year because she—” He made a motion with his hand to indicate drinking.
“Good morning, Fred,” she said to the older officer. “I see you’re keeping the new recruits well informed on who to know and who to stay away from, as always.”
“Detective Gates,” Fred said with a stiff smile before introducing her to his partner. “Detective Gates is with Pennsylvania’s homicide division.”
Struck not only by how attractive she was but also by how young she appeared to be, the young officer shot her a grin. She couldn’t have been much over thirty, if that.
With a polite nod to the young police officer, she asked, “What have we got?”
“A dead body,” the young officer answered. “A creepy dead body.”
“They’re going to tear the place down,” Fred said while leading her down the battered concrete walkway, around the long main building, and to the abandoned building behind it.
“I heard all about that,” Cameron said, watching to make sure that she didn’t trip over rocks or the broken cement on the uneven path. “The owners tried to have the place renovated so that they could build a shopping center a couple of years ago. Ended up causing big landslides down onto Highway Sixty-Five and the railroad tracks at the bottom of the hill. It took the state weeks to clean up the mess.”
“So now they’re just mowing the whole place down.” Fred led her around the corner of the main building. A second abandoned building came into view.
“This is the dietary building,” the young officer said. “They found the body in the walk-in freezer.”
“A lot of kids hang out here,” Fred said.
“It’s supposed to be one of the most haunted places in the country,” Cameron said. “An abandoned mental hospital. Legends. No one around. Perfect place to bring girls. You scare them and then hold them tight and hope to get lucky—or to get drunk.”
“You should know,” Fred said with a wicked grin.
Ignoring him, she asked, “Could one have accidentally gotten locked inside and suffocated?”
“Doubt it,” Fred said. “They found the freezer door locked from the outside and a broom handle jammed in the latch.”
“Sounds like someone didn’t want whoever was inside it to get out.”
They climbed the steps up to a loading dock. The garage-type doors had been removed, providing a wide open path into the kitchen area. Pennsylvania’s crime-scene investigators were already at work examining the area outside and around the freezer; its rusted-out door, which was wide open; and its cavernous interior.
Near the activity, three men and a woman wearing hard hats were giving their statements about how they’d made the discovery to a few uniformed officers.
After showing the officers the gold shield she had clipped to her belt, Cameron waded through the officers and investigators and stepped inside the musty walk-in freezer. Taking note of the rotten food that had been abandoned decades before resting on the rusty shelves, she slipped evidence gloves onto her hands.
Having seen more than her share of dead bodies as a homicide detective, Cameron did not think that much could surprise her—until the medical examiner moved aside to let her see the body slumped in the corner.
Aware of her colleagues around her, Cameron fought to hold back the gasp that wanted to escape from her lips.
She had expected a decayed skeleton—nothing more than bones and rotten clothes. Instead, the dead body that had been reported was just that—a dead body whose flesh was dried and petrified and the texture of beef jerky.
“Never thought we’d find a mummy right here in Pittsburgh, Gates,” the medical examiner, an older man, said with a hearty chuckle.
“Not really, Doc,” she said. “How?”
“Freezer is airtight,” he said. “Electricity was turned off in the eighties, when the place closed down, so it wasn’t on. Sealed tight as a drum so that the elements and insects couldn’t get to him. Body couldn’t decompose. It dried out and mummified.”
Cameron squatted down to peer at him. His thick locks were blond and combed back off of his forehead. Still, even in death, not a strand was out of place. He was wearing baggy white pants and a matching jacket with shoulder pads that had yellowed slightly with age. Dark-brown splatters across his shoulders and on his pants indicated blood. Under the jacket, he was wearing a blue collarless shirt.
“I see blood,” she said. “Cause of death?”
“Beauty of mummification is that it does preserve evidence.” He pointed to the scalp. “There’s evidence of blunt-force trauma to the head.”
Cringing, Cameron reached down to pick up one of his hands. In spite of the decay, she was able to make out cuts and bruises on it. “Hopefully, for his sake, he was dead before he was sealed up in here. It could have taken days for him to die if he’d had to wait to run out of air. Any ID?” She proceeded to search his pockets.
“None,” the medical examiner said. “No wallet. No money. No driver’s license. Nothing.”
Resting next to his legs was the neck of a guitar. The broken strings hung loose like chopped-off vines. After confirming that the instrument had already been recorded and photographed by the crime-scene unit, she slipped it out from under the dead man’s hand and found that the neck of the guitar had been violently broken off of its body. On the exposed wood of the neck were stains that were the same brown hue as the stains on the dead man’s white suit.
“Where’s the rest of it?” she asked while searching the floor, and then she spotted the shattered body of the black guitar behind the dead man.
“Could this have caused the head wounds?” Cameron asked the medical examiner.
“Won’t know until I get him back to the lab.”
Cameron knelt down to peer closely at the victim’s fingers. Despite his condition, she was able to see the callouses on his hands. Pleased to have made one discovery, she sat back on her haunches. She took in his clothes, which at one time—during his life—would have been considered very stylish. But then they were old and discolored.
“We may not know his name, but I do know one thing about John Doe,” Cameron said. “He was a musician.”
“Whoever beat him to death couldn’t have been a fan,” Doc said.
Three Years Later—The Russell Ridge Farm and Orchards, Chester, West Virginia
Does she have any idea how close she is to being Monster’s lunch?
Suellen Russell was staring out the bay window, across the front porch, and out across the lush green yard at Ellie. The plump white cat was lazing on her back in the bright summer sun. Little was the cat aware that Monster, a playful young border collie, had her in his sights. Several feet away, under the cover of the hedges that lined the spacious yard across from the horse pasture, the border collie was bellying his way in the direction of the feline.
Just at the right moment, Monster launched himself. On cue, Ellie sprang up from the ground, twisted around in midair, landed on her feet, and flew across the yard and up the big maple tree. Her movements were so graceful that they seemed choreographed.
Laughing, Suellen tore herself away from the window and returned to her baby grand piano to work on her next original symphony piece. She so wanted to have it completed in time for rehearsals for the next season at the Philadelphia Philharmonic, where she had been the symphony conductor for the last twelve years. As part of her agreement with the company, the prestigious philharmonic featured and performed her original works.
She was living her passion and her dream.
Don’t worry, Suellen, you’ll get it done before you go
back to Philadelphia for the winter season. You always do.
She cringed at the thought of returning to Philadelphia. Her husband, Clark, had died that spring. Feeling like a zombie, she’d simply gone through the motions of the last six weeks of the season before running home to the farm where she had grown up—her favorite place to escape the stress of the big city. As much as she loved the excitement of the metropolis, she was still a farm girl at heart.
In a matter of weeks, her period of mourning would have to end. She’d have no choice but to return to Philadelphia and to the empty house she used to share with her husband.
Her phone rang, which was a welcome interruption. Turning her attention back to the landscape, Suellen answered the phone.
“Suellen?”
She searched her mind, trying to put a name to the familiar voice from long ago.
“It’s me, Catherine,” she said.
“I’m sorry—”
“Cat!” she said with a giggle. “Cat Calhoun. Used to be Foxworth, back in another lifetime. All of my respectable friends call me Catherine now.”
“Cat!” Suellen replied. “My God. I didn’t even know you had my number out here at the farm. What have you been up to?”
“Well, you do know that Harrison and I finally got married—”
“About time,” Suellen said. “How long did you two live together before that happened?”
“Five years,” Cat said. “We moved in together about nine months after the group broke up. Got married when I got pregnant. We now have three kids. I’m teaching music at a private school here in State College.”
“Is Harrison still an on-air radio personality?”
“You mean ‘DJ,’” Cat said with a laugh.
“Since they don’t use record discs anymore, they’re ‘radio personalities.’”
“Don’t tell me that Suellen Russell is politically correct,” Cat said. “Nope. He gave that up when he became a father. Now he’s grown up, and he owns his own public-relations firm. Can you believe it? Two middle-aged rock ‘n’ rollers now driving SUVs and juggling gymnastics and soccer practices?”
