Murder Wears a Medal

by Donna Doyle

  Skip’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard about them but that doesn’t mean I did them.”

  “I didn’t ask you if you did them,’ Troy said patiently. “I asked what you’re hearing about them.”

  “Robberies?” Sean asked. “Settler Springs isn’t exactly Dallas. Who’s getting robbed?”

  “I have a feeling it’s anyone with a door that’s unlocked or easy to break into, or a business that’s closed for the night. The convenience store was broken into, the ice cream place, a residence. None of the robberies amounted to a lot of money but that’s three in a short amount of time.”

  “Drug money, probably,” Skip said. “I hadn’t heard about the ice cream place. That’s a tough one; the Wheelers run that every summer. I doubt if they’re raking in the big bucks, but everyone goes there. No, I haven’t heard anything. Why? Does Stark think I’m doing the robberies?”

  “I’m just asking if you’ve heard anything.”

  Skip shook his head in disgust. “After trying to pin a murder on Lucas, he still won’t give it up. And he’s the one with the murderer in the family.”

  “Yeah, I know. But if you hear anything, let me know. Even if it’s not much.”

  “Me and Sean are heading down to Outlaws tonight,” Skip said. “I’ll see if I can find out anything.”

  “Just don’t get plastered. I’ve already been there to break up a bar fight.”

  “There’s a lot of people in town,” Skip commented. “I know Memorial Day is always a big deal in town, but usually we know everybody.”

  “You know anyone named Eddie Kavlick?”

  “Uh-uh. Why?”

  “His name popped up.”

  “With the robberies?” Sean asked.

  “No, at least that’s not where I heard it.” Troy got up. “I gotta get back. Thanks for supper.”

  “It’s your house,” Sean grinned.

  “Nice having in-house help.”

  “I told him, he oughtta move back here,” Skip said. “He’s been away too long. Family is here.”

  “My dad is in Texas. And my business.”

  “What’s Texas got besides your father, a thriving economy and sunshine?” Skip joked.

  “The Cowboys.”

  It was calculated to set Skip off on the virtues of the Steelers football team over the Cowboys, as Sean had known it would. Troy left the two of them arguing good-naturedly about the Super Bowl exploits of the past champions.

  Sean was having a good time reconnecting with his family and maybe he’d make visits a regular thing, now that he’d taken the first step. Troy wasn’t as sanguine about the trip to Outlaws. Skip Krymanski wasn’t a troublemaker, but he wouldn’t walk away from trouble, either, if it made a move on him. All Chief Stark needed was an excuse to arrest a Krymanski days after returning to the position of police chief. Back to normal. That’s what Stark wanted.

  Troy went back to the station and worked for several hours. Then he decided that it might be a good night to patrol the town’s alleys and side streets, just to see if he could discover any new places that had replaced the Senior Center parking lot and Daffodil Alley for whoever had replaced Travis Shaw in the local drug trade. He didn’t notice anything; in fact, the town seemed almost deserted.

  So he switched directions and made a sweeping drive around the bars. With strangers in town for the upcoming celebration, there was no way of telling what transactions might be going on. Bars were an ideal cover for activities that benefitted from an environment where turning a blind eye was part of the ambience.

  Parking lots were filled, which was in itself a surprise, since it was a weeknight. Didn’t these people have to go to work in the morning? Troy pondered as he circled the lot at Casey’s. Even though the regulars had been kicked out, Troy doubted that the ban had stuck, judging from the number of vehicles parked in the lot. But nothing seemed to be amiss.

  He knew Sean was old enough to take care of himself, and the same was true of Skip Krymanski. Still, Troy couldn’t help himself. He headed to Outlaws.

  He saw Skip’s truck parked in the lot. And maybe it was a cop’s instinct, or maybe it was the habit of army buddies looking out for one another, Troy couldn’t say. But he pulled into the lot, beside Skip’s truck, turned off the engine and the lights, and waited.

  It didn’t take long. The entrance to the bar opened and light poured out, followed by noise and bodies circling men who had begun their fight inside and needed more space. Troy got out of the squad car.

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  He recognized the big Marine with the tattoos and the bare arms. And of course, he recognized Sean, even with one eye swollen shut. He even recognized Sean’s demeanor; his friend had never been a congenial drunk.

  “What are you doing here?” Sean demanded when he spotted Troy.

  “Keeping the peace,” Troy said, his voice calm and businesslike.

  Diverted by Troy’s presence, Sean missed the punch that came at him from the Marine’s massive fist. The blow was enough to knock Sean to the ground.

  “Hey!” Troy called out sharply. “I asked you what’s going on and you answer with a punch?”

  The ex-Marine grinned. His mouth was bloody, evidence that Sean’s punches had also hit their mark. “That’s what’s going on,” he replied.

  His wit was appreciated by those within earshot, but Troy wasn’t amused.

  “And I said I’m keeping the peace.”

  “Who says this isn’t peaceful?” challenged the ex-Marine. “We’re just out here getting’ a little exercise.”

  “Sean? Can you get up?”

  Sean was staggering to his feet, his arms gripping his midsection. He ignored Troy and charged at the waiting ex-Marine. Sean was in shape and nearly as tall and broad as his opponent, but it was plain, even to Troy’s eyes, that his pal’s reflexes were slowed by drink. Troy wondered where Skip was; from what he knew of the Krymanskis, it was unlike one of them to leave another alone in a fight.

  “Stay out of this, Troy,” Sean said, his words coming out of his mouth in truncated gasps as he struggled to gain his breath.

  “Yeah, stay out of it.”

  “That’s enough from both of you. Stop fighting or I’ll have to arrest you both for disturbing the peace.”

  Suddenly, from the street, a squad car, sirens blaring and lights flashing, entered

  the lot. The door opened and Chief Stark came out.

  “Okay, Claypool,” he said, his hands gripping his truncheon as if he were itching for a chance to use it. “You’re under arrest.”

  13

  Who Called the Cops?

  “I told you to stay out of it, Troy.”

  “Come on,” Troy said. “I’m taking you back home.”

  “Texas is pretty far from here.”

  “Back to my place.”

  “I’ll pay you back for the bail you posted.”

  “I’m not concerned about the bail money. Just get in the car. I want to know what happened.”

  “I drank too much, I got into a fight. End of story. It’s nothing you haven’t seen me do before,” Sean said. He refused Troy’s suggestion that they stop at an Urgent Care so that Sean could have his wounds looked at, insisting that he was fine.

  Reluctantly, Troy headed back to the home. He had to go to work, even though he was concerned about leaving Sean at the house alone. He was also annoyed with his friend for getting into a fight at the bar and for being in a situation that had brought Chief Stark on the scene. Before last night, Sean had impressed Troy with the changes in his appearance and his attitude, but the altercation at the Outlaws made it appear as though everything was a façade.

  “Where was Skip in all of this?”

  “Fighting off three guys inside,” Sean said.

  They were at the house. Sean said he didn’t need any help, but he decided that he’d sit out on the porch swing and enjoy the rest of the morning, rather than go inside yet. Troy made lunch—nothing fanc
y, just sliced up cantaloupe with grilled cheese sandwiches—and brought it outside.

  Sean eyed the plates and the glasses of iced tea with interest. “I guess I am hungry,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. So, Skip was still inside while you and the Marine were outside. What triggered the fighting?”

  Sean shook his head. “Who knows? Someone said something about the Marines—you know how that always goes—and then an Army guy responded, and the next thing I knew, someone threw a punch.”

  “And you threw one back.”

  Sean raised an eyebrow. “What else could I do?” he replied with good-humored resignation. “Couldn’t let the Marines hog all the glory.”

  “What about Skip?”

  “I dunno. He was in the Army too, so I guess that’s what brought him in. You know that the Krymanskis aren’t exactly known as the peacemakers around here.”

  “This wasn’t a Krymanski issue. They get blamed for enough in this town; don’t add to it.” Troy fell silent. “Did Stush call the police?”

  “Who’s Stush?”

  “He owns Outlaws. Did he put in a call?”

  “I don’t know. Things got wild pretty fast. I don’t know him anyway.”

  “One of the barmaids?” Troy pressed. “Did one of them call?”

  “How would I know? Why?”

  “Because Chief Stark doesn’t do emergency calls; he lets the state police handle what he doesn’t want to. And I was on duty; there was no reason for him to be out.”

  “So?”

  “So, something doesn’t make sense. I think I’ll stop by Outlaws when I go on my shift and find out what brought Stark out there.”

  “You sound like something’s going on. It was just a bar fight.”

  “Maybe. But how did he know your name? And why didn’t he check to see what the other guy had done to keep the fight going?”

  Sean held up his hands as if he were surrendering. “Too much thinking for me,” he said. “I don’t know Stark and I never met the Marine before.”

  “Did you get a name?”

  “I told you, I never met him. And it’s not like we were introduced, y’know.”

  “Skip might know him.”

  “Skip didn’t know him either. When we got in, he mentioned that the place was full of strangers. He blamed it on this Memorial Day gig; he said they come in from out of town for cheap bear and a chance to swap stories and get in fights.” Sean studied his iced tea. “Not exactly Memorial Day the way it was when we were kids. Back then it was just parades and medals.”

  Beyond extracting a promise from Sean to stick around the house and take it easy, Troy couldn’t linger. He dressed for work and left in the squad car, heading to the police station. Kyle was finishing up his shift. Chief Stark’s office door was open, but the light was out.

  “Some county meeting,” Kyle said, answering Troy’s questioning look. “You know how some of the small towns can’t afford to pay their police force. The local cops are meeting with the state police to figure out what to do.”

  “They’re always figuring out what to do,” Troy said. “Somehow, they never reach a decision. How was the morning?”

  “Okay, but I got a call. Another break-in last night.”

  “Another one? Where?”

  “The dry cleaner’s over on Forsythia. Crawford’s.”

  “How much could anyone steal from a dry cleaner’s?”

  “They don’t know. They don’t balance the drawer every night, so they aren’t sure how much was taken.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “They have a steady supply of regulars, so I guess they make enough to stay in business. But when Mrs. Crawford went in this morning, she saw that the back window had been broken and the cash register drawer was open.”

  “No one saw anything?”

  “The back window faces an alley and the building across it is vacant.”

  “Whoever is doing the break-ins is smart enough to know which places to hit. All of the businesses were closed when they were broken into, and the break-in at the residence took place during the carnival, when no one was home there.”

  “Yeah. The businesses close early, except for the ice cream place. They don’t close until 9.”

  “In ’n’ Out closes later than that.”

  “Usually, but that night, they had closed early because their air conditioning wasn’t working. Do you think that’s important?”

  “I don’t know. Whoever is doing the break-ins waits until no one is home. Steals some money, some odds and ends, but doesn’t rob anyplace that would have real money.”

  “Maybe they want to play it safe.”

  “Maybe. Did Stark say anything about it?”

  “Told me to write up the report and he’d let the state police know about this one,” Kyle said in disgust. “Basically, put it on the list.”

  “Didn’t he seem interested?”

  “He never really was interested in local crimes,” Kyle said, “unless he could bag a Krymanski for it.”

  Soon after Kyle finished for the day, Troy took off for Outlaws. He’d met all the local bar owners not long after he joined the police force and found them to be, in general, a little rough-edged, but hard-working types who were able to keep control of their regulars. Stush Makanos was no different. He was in the bar, cleaning up after the night before, but that wasn’t unusual. His workday started in the afternoon, getting ready for the customers who came at night.

  “I’d offer you a beer,” Stush said, putting down his broom after answering Troy’s knock, “but I don’t guess you’d accept.”

  “Not on duty, no.”

  “You here about last night?”

  “Yeah. What happened?”

  Stush shrugged broad shoulders that seemed at odds with his short build. “I still don’t know. Eddie started shouting about the Marines, the way he always does—”

  “Eddie?”

  “The Marine. His name’s Eddie.”

  “Eddie,” Troy said thoughtfully. “What’s his last name?”

  Stush shrugged. “I don’t know. I never saw him until he came in with the other vets for Memorial Day. I hope he leaves after it’s over. I hear he likes to start fights.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Me? No, why would I do that? If two drunk galoots want to go out in the parking lot and pound each other, that’s up to them.”

  “But there was a fight going on in here, too, wasn’t there?”

  Again, Stush’s shoulders moved up philosophically. “Nothing I couldn’t handle on my own. I stopped the fight same way I always do. I poured a pitcher of water over them.” He grinned. “Crude but effective. They kept fighting so I poured another pitcher. They got the message and they broke it up. By then, the fight outside was already over.”

  “So you didn’t call the police. Did any of the girls?”

  “Trish doesn’t like the police—no offense—and Dolly just kept working. They didn’t call. Why?”

  “Just wondering how the police got there so fast if no one called them.”

  “Weren’t you there? I thought it was you.”

  “I wasn’t called. I have a friend in from out of town and he came to Outlaws with Skip Krymanski.”

  “Skip doesn’t usually get in too much trouble. If he drinks too much, he calls for someone to drive him home and he doesn’t start fights. This one last night just seemed to start on its own.”

  “You said this Eddie, the Marine, he started shouting about the Marines.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes it doesn’t take much. But no one called you guys.”

  Then how had Chief Stark known that there was a fight at the bar? Troy wondered as he left the bar. And was Eddie the Marine the same man Tia Shaw knew as Eddie Kavlick, the former associate of her ex-husband that she’d seen up at the lake, the one who had been talking to her young son, Mason?

  14

  Searching for Sean

  The house was empty when Troy got o
ff work. Troy tried calling Sean’s cell phone but his call went to voicemail. A text went unanswered. While he waited for Arlo to take care of his business outside, Troy stood at the kitchen counter and tried to process his thoughts. It was late, too late to call anyone in town who might have gone out with Sean for the evening. Troy didn’t think that his friend would be all that eager for a night on the town after having been in a fight the night before that had landed him in jail.

  But the bars were a place to start.

  The effort was futile; no one of that description was in any of the town bars.

  Troy let Arlo back in and closed the door. It was really too late to call anyone, but . . .

  “Skip? Sorry to call so late. This is Troy Kennedy. Say, I was just wondering if you knew whether Sean had any plans for tonight? He’s not here and there’s no note telling me where he went.”

  “He’s not there?” If Skip had been asleep before the call awakened him, there was no sign of it now. “I talked to him this afternoon. He was planning to stay put, he said. He was kinda sore from last night. I said he should get his ribs looked at. He said you bailed him out and he didn’t feel like going out and getting into any trouble. We talked about heading up to the lake this weekend; he liked the idea. I don’t know where he’d go; he’s been visiting some of the family, but he would have mentioned it if he’d been going over to see anyone tonight.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Troy sighed. “Okay, let me know if you hear anything, okay?”

  “Troy, do you think something’s wrong?”

  He did, but it wasn’t something he could share. “I’ll keep looking,” Troy answered. “Call me if you learn anything, no matter what time.”

  “You do the same.” Skip hesitated. “Sean . . . he’s a good guy.”

  “The best.”

  “Yeah.”

  Something wasn’t right. Troy knew it. But he didn’t know how to prove it.

  He slept on the couch so that he’d hear any sounds outside, in case Sean returned late. But when morning came, there was still no sign of Sean. Troy showered and dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and drove to the police station.