by J C Fuller
“Interesting, the blood on the neck strap.” The coroner looked up at her. “Go on, tell me. What you are thinking?”
Lane pursed her lips together and took a deep breath. “I believe someone removed the camera from her dead body and took the memory card. They then took the camera away with them when they left the scene and ditched it.”
“Why?” the coroner asked, not looking up from his new notes.
“Maybe she’d taken a picture of them?” Lane looked over at Philip. He nodded his head in encouragement, furrowing his brow for her to continue. “Trying to destroy any photos providing evidence of her not being alone?”
“No, why take the camera with them? Why not take only the memory card? Leave the camera with the body.” The coroner looked up.
“Oh, well. Possibly they were concerned it had an internal memory or they were having seconds thoughts about taking the camera. So, they decided to smash it against the rocks and leave it in the running water. Probably hoping it’d stay lost or be damaged beyond repair. Either way, it lends to the suggestion she wasn’t alone.”
“You think she was pushed?” The coroner leaned in, locking eyes with Lane, placing his arms on the desk over his notes.
“I do, sir,” Lane answered honestly.
“I see.” The coroner suddenly leaned back and stacked his notes again on the desk, taking a deep breath while looking at the two of them. “Well. Homicide it is then.”
Chapter 15
“Eating on the ferry isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I suggested you take me to lunch.” Philip looked down at his meal of clam chowder and saltines with lack luster desire.
“I know, but I’m in a hurry to get back to my office.” Lane gave an apologetic smile. “You’ll like the chowder. It’s better than you think.”
Philip nodded he’d try and dipped his spoon into the thick soup, giving it a speculative stir.
“So, now that you’ve got your murder investigation…” Philip gave her a small smile and then dropped it, remembering someone had to be murdered to make it so. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, for starters. We’re going to have to find out as much about the victim as we can. Make appointments to interview her agent and the magazine who employed her. Then we’ll head over to her apartment. Speak with her landlord and neighbors. See if we can get a feel for her life and if she knew she was in any kind of danger. We will even—”
“We?” Philip gave her a flat smile.
“Yes, we. What’s wrong with—?” Lane stopped, perplexed. Philip was moving his head in a slow negative shake.
“I’d love to help. But frankly, I can’t. Today was an exception. I don’t have the freedom to come and go to the mainland like you do. My job is on the island. IN the park. Not to mention, I’ve already used all my vacation time I had stocked up with…with getting over what happened last time. And Kody, I can’t leave him alone...”
“Phil…”
“I appreciate you wanting my help and you don’t have to say it. I know you could really use my insight here.”
“Yes, but Phil…”
“Here’s a thought!” Philip perked up, an idea suddenly popping into his head. “Maybe we could do the mainland interviews on my days off? Yeah! Think that would work? Then I don’t have to worry about—”
“PHIL!” Lane gave him a wan smile, “When I said ‘we’…I meant, Deputy Pickens and I.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course, you did.” He chuckled, embarrassed. “That’s why you have a deputy now, isn’t it?” Philip said, feeling more disappointed than he’d have imagined.
“It is,” Lane said, with the same amount of disappointment Philip felt. She had a sinking feeling he would have been more help than Caleb on this investigation. “However, there is something you can assist me with. If you’re still interested?” Lane cheered up, remembering she did need Philip’s help on something. She suddenly gave him a wide, Cheshire Cat smile.
“Sure! I’ll help where I can,” Philip said, earnestly.
“You mean that?” Lane looked at him seriously, her blue eyes skeptical.
“Yes!” Philip straightened his back. He wanted in on the investigation more than he had realized. Maybe he needed it? Maybe Lane wasn’t the only person guilty of being bored?
“Good.” Lane smiled again, and then said in a hurried rush, “Because I need you to come with me to interview Sue Carter tomorrow morning.”
“OH, no!” Philip started shaking his head, chuckling. “That’s definitely a job for your deputy!”
“Please, Phil. I can’t get Caleb anywhere near the woman. And let’s be honest, he’d just be a distraction to her. Plus, she likes you! I mean, she likes you as in she likes you. Not as in she LIKES you…Though, I know she does LIKE you. She likes you like she likes everyone, on top of just plain liking you.” Lane tilted her head, looking exasperated. “Please. You’re the only one who seems to be able to handle her without getting all flustered.” She leaned towards Philip, her hands lying flat on the table in a pleading gesture. “I could really use your help and I’m sure Sue would appreciate having you around when we talk about Janie.” Lane suddenly smiled, tilting her head playfully, and batting her eyelashes. “I just know she’d appreciate your big, buff shoulder to cry on.”
Philip sighed, “What time?”
“I already told her we’d be there at eight tomorrow morning.” Lane smiled coyly behind her spoon of chowder before taking a bite.
“Of course, you did.” Philip’s mouth quirked with predictable annoyance, signaling for her to hand over her soup crackers with a waving gesture.
Pleasantly pleased, she happily passed the pile of saltines.
Chapter 16
Kody, having met them at the docks to give Philip a ride back to the park, freed Lane up to make her way to the office directly from the ferry. She had a million and one things on her mental “to do list”. The first being, a heart to heart conversation with her young deputy.
Pulling into her parking spot at the sheriff’s office, Lane admired the new building. The front door was dark glass, the hours listed clearly in white print with a sheriff’s star etched at the base. Two benches lined the sidewalk on each side of the door, along with four large flower pots to add color. The building itself had the look of a cabin. Stained pine paneling with dark green trim, a bright yellow sheriff star painted above the sign stating Rockfish Island Sheriff’s Office. It fit well with the rest of the downtown motif, inviting and neighborhood friendly.
Stepping out of her truck, she was surprised to see Deputy Pickens at the front door to greet her.
“I’m glad you’re back. There are some people here wanting to speak with you,” he said in a low whisper, and opened the door, ushering her in. Before Lane could ask exactly who he was referring to, Caleb quickly added, “They’ve been waiting for an hour.”
As they walked into the entry way, Mr. Allister and his grandson Brent, both stood up.
“Sheriff, may we have a moment of your time?” Mr. Allister asked politely, without much of a smile.
“Of course. Afternoon, Mr. Allister.” Lane offered her hand to the lawyer and then to Brent, offering him a smile along with an “Afternoon.” She then opened the waist high swing door built into the front counter and walked through, indicating for them to follow. “Deputy Pickens, would you be so kind as to bring us some coffee and a soda or two?” Lane smiled at her guests and then led them past her office, heading towards the back of the building.
“We’re not going to your office?” Mr. Allister asked, following Lane past her door to a small conference room further down the hall.
“More room in here,” she said with a smile, but mentally answered, “And this room has a security camera.” She hadn’t forgotten the scene in front of the ranger’s station between Brent and his friends. She couldn’t help but wondered if Brent had come to confess something. “The chairs are more comfortable, as well,” she added out loud, and nodded for them to
take a seat.
“Thank you. I know you weren’t expecting us. We appreciate your time,” Mr. Allister said diplomatically, pulling out a chair and indicating to his grandson to sit beside him. “We are hoping to be of some assistance to you and are here of our own volition.”
Caleb entered with two sodas, three mugs, and the small carafe of coffee they kept up front for visitors, placing them on the table. Brent leaned forward to grab a soda, only to be stopped short by his grandfather, who put a gentle hand on his arm and shook his head no. Lane arched an eyebrow at the exchange and then asked Caleb to shut the door. Her deputy complied, taking a seat with a curious but serious expression. Lane smiled at that. Deputy Pickens had his game face on.
Lane followed suit and pulled her leather notepad out, placing it on the table.
“So, what would you like to tell me?” Lane started, her smile genuine. She clicked her pen and flipped open the notepad.
“Against my advice…” Mr. Allister gave his grandson a sour smile, “My client would like to inform you he may have been—”
“I WAS the last person to see Janie alive,” Brent blurted out, cutting off his grandfather mid-sentence. “She needed help getting up the mountain, up to the goats. She was so focused on taking pictures and not watching where she was stepping…” Brent’s face turned red, visibly choking back emotions.
Lane immediately sat up straighter, pulling her notepad closer. “Are you saying you saw her fall?”
“Not at all!” Mr. Allister’s calm voice boomed through the room at the same time as Brent started to say, “I did—”.
Mr. Allister cleared his throat and continued on, giving his grandson a stern look.
“My client is simply trying to convey he believes he was the last person to see her alive. He has no direct knowledge as to what happened to Miss Engles or what exactly caused her demise. His assumption is, she became distracted and lost her footing. When he left Miss Engels presence, she was alive and well.” Mr. Allister eyed his grandson, and then leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Let me do the talking here, Brent.”
“Is this true, Brent? You didn’t actually see Janie fall?” Lane watched the young man, looking for signs of deception.
Brent looked at his grandfather before answering.
“No, ma’am. I didn’t see her fall. When I’d left, she was sitting on the edge of the cliff taking pictures with her camera.”
“What day was this?”
“Thursday morning,” Mr. Allister answered for him.
“How did you come to be with Janie? Had you plans to meet?” Lane grabbed one of the sodas and cracked it opened, taking a sip. She decided it might be more profitable to create a laid back, non-interview vibe. She wanted the young man to be comfortable and the lawyer to lighten up.
“They did not have any prior plans,” Mr. Allister answered again. “It was pure coincidence bumping into each other.”
“What were you doing out in the park?” Lane kept her eyes on Brent, politely ignoring Mr. Allister.
“It’s a public place,” Mr. Allister said, tartly.
Lane gave him an even look and re-worded her question. “Out of all the public places one can go on the island, what made you decide to go to the park?”
“Research,” Brent answered quickly, before his grandfather could reply.
“Research?” Lane repeated his answer, in a dubious tone.
“Yes, Sheriff. Research. Brent has endeavored to start a climbing business. Guiding and tutoring beginner mountain climbers. He goes out almost every day to scout various routes up the mountain in an effort to discover new trails.” Mr. Allister reached over and grabbed one of the coffee mugs, tilting the carafe to fill it. “He was beginning his morning climb when he became reacquainted with Miss Engles.”
“Alright, and how did it come about that you ended up going with her on the trail to the goats?”
Brent looked to his grandfather, who motioned he could answer before he brought the coffee mug to his mouth.
“She said she was having a hard time finding them and I pointed out she was on the wrong trail. She needed to be more east. I offered to take her.”
“What trail was she on when you saw her?”
“Indian Flat. We cut over and headed for Shale Rock.”
Lane nodded her head, recognizing the route Philip and she had followed the day before.
“What kind of mood was she in? Was she happy? Stressed? Depressed? Anxious?” Lane rattled off the various emotions.
“More frustrated than anything,” Brent said, honestly. “She was under a bit of a time crunch and was eager to get the photos to impress her new agent.
“New agent?” Lane emphasized the word “new”.
Brent shrugged. “That’s what she said. I don’t know what happened to her old one.”
“What else did you talk about?”
“Several things,” Brent said, somewhat evasively.
“Such as?” Caleb broke in, asking the question in a surprisingly forceful manner. Everyone in the room blinked and looked at the young deputy sitting by the door, his chair tilted back against the wall. They’d forgotten he was even in the room.
“Just catching up on old times,” Brent said casually, looking over to his grandfather, avoiding Lane’s eyes.
“Brent, I find it a little hard to believe on the anniversary of her sister’s death, the two of you just made polite chit chat the whole time.” Lane tapped her fingers on the table, “Did her sister Danie happened to come up in your conversation?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Who brought her up?”
“I did, I guess.”
“How?”
Mr. Allister leaned forward, his elbows on the table eyeballing Lane.
“I assume you’re asking these questions simply to assess the mindset of the victim?” Mr. Allister leaned back into his chair heavily and folded his arms across his chest.
“Just so.” Lane smiled primly, looking at Brent, expectant of an answer.
“She’d asked me to grab a couple of granola bars from her backpack. They’d fallen to the bottom, so while I was digging around, I found a picture of her and Danie. I asked her about it.”
Lane perked up at his answer. They hadn’t found a photograph in Janie’s backpack. She shot Caleb a quick questioning glance and he nodded in the affirmative. He’d understood the unasked question.
“What happened next?” Lane asked lightly, not wanting to let on he’d given them something.
“I gave her my condolences again.” Brent shrugged his shoulders, unconsciously signaling their conversation had ended.
“Did you remember to give the photo back?” Caleb asked, his voice not matching Lane’s light tone.
“Well, yeah. I put it back in her bag. I wouldn’t have taken it!” Brent’s face flushed, almost embarrassed at the suggestion.
“And why didn’t you climb down with her?” Lane looked at her deputy, warning him to let her do the talking.
“The conversation had died down and she was busy taking pictures. I still had to get down the mountain so I wouldn’t be late for work.”
“At what time would you say you met Janie on the trail to when you left her?”
“Um. I’d say I bumped into her around seven in the morning. Started back down around ten? Maybe ten-thirty?” Brent shrugged his shoulders again. “That’s just a guess though. I made it to work on time. A little before one-thirty.”
“And where do you work, Brent?” Lane asked, noting down the times.
“He works for me part-time at my law firm as a currier. Just till he gets his own business under way.” Mr. Allister took another sip of coffee and smiled at his grandson.
“Brent, did you see anyone else on your way up or down The Mole Hill?” Lane offered him the unopened soda can with a smile.
“He’s not thirsty,” Mr. Allister affirmed, and leaned in towards the sheriff. “And if you want his DNA, you should just ask him nicely.”
“Not at this time,” Mr. Allister said, with a wolfish grin.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Lane said wryly, and turned her attention back to Brent. “Back to my question. Did you see anyone?”
“You don’t have to answer, Brent. If you don’t want to,” Mr. Allister advised his grandson. “We’ve already told them what you felt they should know.”
Lane thought the lawyer’s advice odd. Why shouldn’t the young man want to answer that particular question? Had he seen someone else on The Mole Hill? A friend? A stranger? Or had he thought he was all alone? And now he was worried answering might call forward a witness to his deed?
“Brent, if you saw someone, you should tell us. It could be crucial to our investigation.” Lane gave him a serious frown, hoping to express the importance of his answer.
Brent looked down at his hands, mulling the question over. His grandfather put a supporting arm around his shoulders.
“Take your time, Brent.”
Lane didn’t like the hesitation. It didn’t make sense. If he saw someone, why not tell them? Maybe the young man didn’t understand how serious this was? In fact, why did he make it known he was with her? Unless he was trying to confirm their suspicions, reporting it as an accident? Or he knew his DNA was on the granola bar wrappers and he needed to establish why he was there?
Lane smiled sweetly and tried again, changing tactics.
“So, no one saw you who could possibly confirm your alibi? Or backup your timeline for heading up or down the mountain?”
“Alibi?” Mr. Allister’s face instantly turned serious. “Did you say, alibi?”
“Yes, Mr. Allister. I met with the coroner’s office earlier today and he’s declared Janie’s fall a homicide.” Lane looked directly at Brent. “We are now investigating a murder.”
Brent flinched at her words. Confusion, fear, guilt, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on flickered across his face. Anger?
