A Vintage View of Murder

by Mary Maxwell

  “Blunt force trauma,” Dina replied. “Along with almost fifty stab wounds.”

  “Wow, that’s someone working out a little bit of rage,” I said.

  “Probably so,” she agreed. “But we won’t know what caused the rage until we identify Mr. Doe and figure out why he was in town. Hopefully, that will lead to a suspect.”

  “I have to be honest,” I said. “You’ve just sort of blown my mind. I didn’t exactly have a long conversation with the guy, but he sure didn’t seem like the type of character who would become the object of a knife-wielding maniac.”

  “How did he seem to you?” she asked.

  “Like a guy in a hurry,” I said. “He asked quite a few questions about our cookies and cupcakes. At first, it almost felt like he was accusing me of buying them from a third party commissary or something.”

  “That’s fairly random, but okay. What else?”

  “Not much,” I said. “Certainly nothing memorable or unusual.”

  “Did he mention why he was in town?”

  “Not really,” I told Dina. “He stayed at the Moonlight the night before. I remember he mentioned a noisy couple in the next room. But that’s about it.”

  “We’re looking for them now,” she said. “We’ve talked to a couple of other folks that stayed there that night, but they don’t remember seeing our John Doe.”

  “What about his room?” I asked. “Did you find anything helpful?”

  “A copy of the Gazette,” Dina said. “An unopened pack of Dentyne, two beer bottles and four boxes of cupcakes.”

  “Fingerprints?” I asked.

  “There were a couple of smudged prints on the gum,” she said, “and Earl Dodd’s prints on the newspaper. Everything else appeared to have been wiped clean, including the television remote, the countertop in the bathroom and the desk.”

  “That’s curious,” I said. “Had the room already been cleaned?”

  “No,” Dina replied. “The guy prepaid a week in advance with crisp hundred dollar bills. He also kept the Do Not Disturb sign on the door the whole time.”

  “That’s not so unusual,” I said. “Some people do it because they want privacy.”

  “They also do it because they’re involved in something nefarious,” Dina said. “And just maybe that something nefarious is what led to John Doe’s death.”

  CHAPTER 31

  When I walked through the door at Sky High Pies an hour later, I went immediately to the office, fired up the laptop and began searching the surveillance video files saved on the hard drive. Since I knew what day and time the mystery man had come in to buy cupcakes, it took less than five minutes to locate him on the footage, isolate a good view of his face and then enlarge it on the screen.

  I’d remembered a friendly, chatty guy with a believable story about buy dessert to share with his friends that evening. But as I studied the image on the laptop, I saw a different man: steely eyes, tight mouth and a cold, unforgiving scowl when I turned my back to him. When I played the video again, I watched as he put his keys on the counter to retrieve his wallet. I then zoomed in for a better view of the doodad attached to the keys. It was a large coin with vaguely Aztec elements around the edge and a ghoulish skull in the center.

  “What’s your real story?” I asked the nameless stranger. “And what were you doing in Crescent Creek?”

  A few minutes later, after I successfully copied, enlarged and cropped the man’s picture, I attached it to an email that I sent to Dina’s CCPD address. It took her less than five minutes to call and confirm what I was beginning to suspect.

  “That’s our John Doe,” she said, nearly breathless. “That’s the man that we found dead behind the old gas station on Mariposa Road.”

  “Did you run facial recognition yet?” I asked. “Maybe he’s in the system.”

  “His fingerprints aren’t in the national database,” Dina said. “But we’re running his picture through the software now. If we’re lucky, it’ll match a driver’s license or passport photo.”

  “And if we’re not?” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Dina replied confidently. “We’ll get a hit. This guy may not be local, but he didn’t just fall to earth from outer space.”

  “There’s always a chance that he wasn’t involved in what happened to Evie and Caroline,” I said. “Maybe his death was totally random.”

  “He’s definitely connected in some way,” she said.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “His fingerprints,” she answered. “They weren’t in the database, but we found them elsewhere.”

  “Do you want me to guess?”

  “No, I’ll tell you,” Dina replied. “Remember the three sets of prints on the duct tape from the briefcase? Well, one set belonged to our John Doe.”

  “So he wasn’t in the national database,” I said, “but he had something to do with the kidnappings?”

  “If he wasn’t directly involved,” Dina replied, “then he probably knew someone who was. Otherwise, how did his prints end up on the tape found with the other items from Caroline Whitman’s abduction and murder?”

  CHAPTER 32

  I decided to go downtown and talk to Leslie Weiss and Bradley Driscoll. Their stores were on either side of Tobias Armantrout’s thrift shop, so I was hoping they might’ve seen or heard something related to the assault in Vintage View. Leslie owned Hi-Ho Holidays, a two-floor retail celebration of every major holiday on the calendar. Brad specialized in high-end clothing for men at his shop, Brummel & Company.

  “Look at you, Katie!” he called as I came in from the sidewalk. “Positively glowing from the anticipation of the wedding!”

  I smiled. “Did Dory tell you to say that?”

  His wife was a surgeon at Regional Med. The last few times she came to Sky High, she’d offered tips and advice about weddings, marriage and raising children.

  “Nope,” Brad said. “I thought of it all on my own.”

  “How is Dory?” I asked.

  He issued a loud sigh. “Stressed. They’re short in the Emergency Room, so that’s adding to everyone’s workload.”

  “Didn’t they just hire two new docs?”

  Brad shrugged. “They did, but then one of them got a sweeter offer from a hospital in Salt Lake.”

  “I hadn’t heard that yet,” I said.

  The door opened and Leslie hurried inside.

  “I saw you pull up,” she said. “Is there news about Toby’s attacker? Have the police caught anyone?”

  “Yeah, what’s the latest?” Brad said. “Dory told me that you’re working with the cops or something.”

  “It’s not the first time,” Leslie said. “I guess somebody wasn’t listening to me yesterday.”

  He made a face. “Are you talking about me?”

  “At the merchants’ meeting,” Leslie said, nodding briskly. “I explained that Katie consults with the Crescent Creek PD now and then.”

  Brad’s eyes swiveled between Leslie and me for a few seconds. Then he asked if it was true.

  “It is,” I said. “But it’s not a big deal. I spent more than ten years as a private investigator in Chicago, so I help out with witness interviews and research on certain cases when their workload is heavy.”

  “Gotcha,” Brad said. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “I’m glad that I can help,” I said. “That’s why I stopped by today. I was wondering if either of you thought of anything new since you talked to Detective Kincaid.”

  Leslie glanced at Brad. “Did you tell her already?”

  He shook his head. “She just got here.”

  “What is it?” I asked. “Something you remembered?”

  Leslie’s jaw muscles tightened. “Something I found. It freaked me out so much that I came right over and told Brad.” She plunged one hand into her pocket. “After that I snapped a picture and called the police. They sent a couple of officers to document the scene before they took it away.”

  I wa
ited while she tapped and swiped her phone. When she finally turned it around so I could see the screen, an odd sense of déjà vu swept through me.

  The photograph on her phone showed a round object resting on concrete. There was a stylized Aztec design around the edge and a grinning skull in the center. It was identical to the key chain carried by the man who had been found dead behind the gas station on Mariposa Road.

  “Isn’t that eerie?” asked Leslie. “It absolutely makes my skin crawl!”

  “Where did you find it?” I asked.

  Leslie looked at the picture for a moment before putting the phone back in her pocket.

  “On the ground,” she said. “Right outside the back entrance to Toby’s store. At first, I thought it was a quarter because it was that color. But when I leaned down to pick it up, I realized it wasn’t a coin. And then I saw the blood on the edge, so I called 911 right away. I mean, it was the day after they assaulted Toby. I had a gut instinct that it belonged to one of the people who tried to kill him.”

  I stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. I squeezed a couple of times and then lowered my arm.

  “You okay?” I said. “You look a little pale.”

  She took a deep breath and swallowed. “Just freaked out. Nothing like this has ever happened to any of our neighbors down here.”

  “That we know of,” Brad added.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “Things happen,” he answered. “But they get swept under the rug.”

  “Maybe so,” I said. “But this one didn’t. The whole town is talking about Tobias.”

  “Why not?” Leslie asked in a shaky voice. “Everybody loves him. And he’s been on this block forever.”

  “Forty-five years,” Brad added. “He and I were just talking about that a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Well, it’s so scary,” Leslie said in a hushed tone. “I just hope they find out who did this.”

  “Maybe the skull medallion will help,” Brad said. “Good on you for spotting it out back.”

  Leslie offered a sad smile. “You know, if someone is targeting merchants, any of us could be next.”

  “They’re not after anyone else,” said Brad. “They came for Tobias because he’s involved in the Caroline Whitman case.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” I asked.

  “Around town,” Brad said. “It’s true, right?”

  “The police are still actively working the case,” I replied. “But I doubt if Tobias had anything to do with Evie’s kidnapping or Caroline’s abduction and murder.”

  “There was blood on it,” Leslie said.

  Brad scoffed. “On what?”

  “The silver skull,” she said. “I didn’t touch it or anything, but it was obviously blood.”

  “In that case,” he said, “it’s doubly helpful that you found it before some kids picked it up. Maybe they can get DNA or fingerprints to help identify the jackass that put Toby in the hospital.”

  “Maybe,” Leslie said quietly. “Or maybe they’re already long gone and it’ll end up just like the Whitman kidnapping. Years and years and years will pass, but nobody will face justice for trying to kill the sweetest old man in town.”

  CHAPTER 33

  On my way to Zack’s place that night, I decided to make a quick stop at Tipton’s Liquor Mart for a bag of ice, a modest array of salty snacks and a six-pack of root beer. We planned to work on wedding guest lists and a couple of other things before watching Father of the Bride. Zack had never seen the old Steve Martin-Diane Keaton comedy, and I wanted to see how it held up over time.

  As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed two people strolling toward a dark sedan near the front of the store. A woman wearing a gauzy red dress and black shawl was wedged between her companion’s chest and left arm while he carried a bottle of champagne in his other hand.

  That’s sweet, I thought. A little bubbly, some romantic music and a—

  My mind short-circuited when they stopped to kiss and their faces were splashed with light from the fluorescent fixtures along the front of the building. I quickly swerved away from where they were parked, slid in beside another car and watched closely as they shared a long, tender kiss.

  “Vince Stafford,” I whispered. “And Evie Hale. You low-down, dirty liars.”

  I kept my eyes on the amorous duo as I dialed Dina’s number. While I waited for her to answer, I went back to witnessing the brazen public display of affection.

  “I thought you were going to Zack’s tonight,” Dina said a moment later.

  “You are not going to believe what I’m watching right now,” I said.

  “Project Runway?” she guessed.

  “No!” I blurted. “It’s Evie Hale and her former tennis instructor.”

  Dina gasped. “Where are you?”

  “Tipton’s,” I said. “They were walking out of the store when I drove into the lot.”

  I could hear voices in the background, so I asked if she wanted to talk later.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I’m waiting for my order at Drake’s. Do you think Evie and Vince went to Tipton’s together? Maybe it was a random encounter and they’re just exchanging a friendly hello.”

  “They’re exchanging more than that,” I said. “They’re arm-in-arm.” I paused. “And now they’re kissing again.” Another pause. “And now Vince is saying something in her ear. And she’s…” I stopped long enough to decide what Evie Hale was doing. “Oh! Well, never mind the rest of it.”

  “What is it, Katie?” asked Dina.

  “You could call it inappropriate conduct for a public place,” I replied. “Frankly, I’m surprised she’s doing it, too. The CEO of a well-known company would normally be more cautious about—”

  “Are you going to say something to them?” Dina interrupted.

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for starters, you could ask why they’ve both been lying to us,” she said. “Remember? During my conversation with Evie, I asked if she’d seen anyone from the past lately? She clearly and distinctly denied that she had. And you told me Vince claimed that it’s been years since he talked to her.”

  “Maybe it’s what you said,” I replied. “Maybe they both came here separately, unintentionally ran into one another and dormant romantic sparks suddenly ignited.”

  Dina scoffed. “No way! That stuff happens in the movies, not in real life.”

  “I think it can happen,” I said.

  “Okay, but not those two,” Dina replied. “He’s quite a bit older, isn’t he?”

  “I think eight or nine years,” I answered. “That might have seemed like too big of a difference ten years ago when he was her tennis instructor, but not when she’s in her mid-twenties and he’s…” I paused to do the math. “…and he’s early thirties, more or less.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “He’s around our age, give or take a year or three.”

  “But that doesn’t really seem important. It’s the fact that they’ve both been fibbing about whether or not they’ve been in touch recently.”

  “And from what you’re telling me,” Dina said, “they’re in close contact this evening.”

  I glanced over at Vince and Evie again. The bottle of champagne was on the hood of the car while the two lovebirds twined together like human pretzels.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “They’re definitely very close at the moment.”

  “Maybe I should call Evie right now,” Dina suggested. “I could innocently ask what she’s up to and see how she answers.”

  “Don’t waste your breath,” I said. “You know that she won’t be honest.”

  “I suppose not,” Dina replied. “But it might be kind of amusing.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “To know that she’s lying to me,” Dina said, “while you’re watching her carry on in public with someone she supposedly hasn’t talked to in a decade.”

  “How about I call Stafford tomorrow
?” I suggested. “I could ask him to talk to me again based on new evidence that links the two kidnappings. It also might be interesting to tell him that a rumor’s going around town about him and Evie smooching at Tipton’s.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Dina said. “But maybe Tyler or I should do it.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” I said, watching as Vince opened the car door for Evie. “But I don’t mind doing it. It will be interesting to question him again knowing that he lied the first time.”

  “It will be,” Dina replied. “Why don’t you go ahead and give him a call? I can use the time to press Evie about her so-called faulty memory.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Shortly before nine o’clock that night, Zack was pacing around his living room. He was carrying a notepad covered with a list of gift possibilities for his groomsmen along with a few last-minute additions to the guest list.

  “Which do you prefer?” he asked, glancing at the notes. “Engraved hip flask or laser-etched beer mug?”

  I put down my phone. “Is ‘None of the Above’ an option?”

  He frowned. “You don’t like either of those ideas? Brenda from Accounting said her husband gave both a flask and a mug to his groomsmen when they got married. It was her idea, but that’s because he couldn’t make up his mind.”

  “Brenda Giacomo?”

  He nodded.

  “Which husband was she talking about?” I asked.

  Zack shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “She’s on her third,” I said. “But it looks like this one will last.”

  “What’s your point, sweetie? I shouldn’t listen to her suggestions because she wasn’t lucky in love until the third time around?”

  I shook my head. “That’s not what I said. I think you should think outside the box.”

  He checked the time. “It’s hard to be creative this late in the day.”

  “Then why don’t we put a pin in it? We can come back to the list tomorrow and see if anything new bubbles to the surface.”