Murder at Black Lake

by Anne Patrick

  Men seldom surprised her. Jamie had worked with and dated enough of them that oftentimes she knew exactly what was on their mind at any given time. Gage, however, was in a league of his own.

  She grabbed another cup of coffee and settled at the counter.

  "Good morning," Gage answered after the second ring.

  She smiled. "Thank you for making my day."

  "You're welcome. I was afraid the wind might blow it away."

  "Nope. It was there waiting for me when I got up." She took a sip of her coffee.

  "How's the cleaning coming along?"

  "Good. I'm calling the city dump today to have a bin delivered. Once I get all the junk cleared out, I can really get down to business."

  "When you're ready to paint, just give me a call. Derek said he can get his dad's sprayer and we can do the exterior in no time."

  "We'll have to have another cookout then."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "All right. Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to thank you for the note and rose. It was a wonderful surprise, and very much appreciated."

  "I'll talk to you later."

  After phoning the doctor's office for an appointment to have her stitches removed the next day, she looked up Henry Miller's number at the city dump and asked him to drop off a bin at her place. "If you can put it at the side of the house that would be great."

  "I'll drop it off this afternoon," he promised.

  Jamie finished her coffee, then went to get dressed.

  ***

  Jamie stared up at the beige two-story house. For some reason, the house seemed familiar to her, but she didn't remember ever coming here before. Jamie barely remembered Mrs. Jennings at all.

  She had considered calling Mrs. Jennings first but was afraid the woman would refuse to see her. Hoping and praying for the best, Jamie knocked on the front door.

  Several seconds passed before a woman wearing a silver cropped-bob haircut came to the door. Jamie immediately knew she was at the right place. "Good morning, Mrs. Jennings. I don't know if you remember me or not, but—"

  "You're Jamie Riedel," she spoke cautiously. "I saw you in church Sunday."

  "Yes." Jamie offered a smile, hoping to put the woman at ease. "If it's a convenient time for you, I would very much like to speak with you."

  "All right." She invited Jamie into a modestly furnished living room with light blue walls and brown matching sofa and chairs. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us some tea."

  Jamie's attention was drawn to a white fireplace with several photos lined on the mantel. Most of which were of her son, Dwight.

  Mrs. Jennings returned with a tray with two glasses of tea, a dish of lemon slices, and small packets of sugar. She carefully set it on the coffee table in front of Jamie. "Help yourself."

  Jamie added one of the lemon slices to her tea and sat back on the sofa. She waited until the woman was settled beside her. Lucy Jennings looked to be in her early sixties, her face slightly drawn.

  "First and foremost, I wanted you to know how sorry I am about the loss of your son. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to lose a child, especially one as kindhearted and loving as Dwight was."

  The woman's eyes narrowed. She seemed surprised.

  "That's the other reason I came. I was shocked when I first learned of his conviction. I never believed Dwight killed my father. I truly believe he was trying to save my life and that's why he took me to that cabin."

  "I didn't think you remembered anything about that night. That's the testimony you gave in court."

  "Only bits and pieces. A recent request to view the case file is how I learned about those details. I have no memory of the murder itself or being stabbed."

  Mrs. Jennings stood and walked to the fireplace. Her fingers traced along the bottom of an 8x10 photograph of Dwight, her pain clearly visible in the way she longingly looked at her son. "A jury didn't seem to think so."

  "That's what I'm trying to understand, Mrs. Jennings."

  "You may call me Lucy."

  "Thank you, Lucy. I didn't go through the entire case file, but I did read his statement and mine. And I remember the description I gave in court concerning the clothes the killer wore. There is so much that doesn't add up. I don't understand how a jury could have convicted him."

  "I don't believe they would have, had an eye witness not come forward."

  "A witness. Really."

  Lucy came back over and sat down. "I can't remember all the details. It's been so long ago. And in the later days of the trial my health wasn't too well. I do remember it was a young man in his late teens. He was the one who placed the 9-1-1 call. I believe he was in a boat on the lake."

  "You don't remember his testimony?"

  "You have to understand. Dwight was my only child. It was like my heart was being ripped out. It was just too painful to watch. I wanted to believe he was innocent, that my baby wasn't capable of such horrible things. They had the knife, though. He was there in my husband's cabin with your blood all over him."

  "But he didn't have my father's blood on him." Jamie set her tea on the coffee table. "I'm not a blood splatter expert, but common sense tells me you can't cut a guy's throat and not get any of the victim's blood on you."

  Lucy grimaced at Jamie's depiction.

  "Sorry. It just doesn't seem feasible to me that Dwight killed him or stabbed me."

  "Well, there's one thing I'm certain of. If he did stab you, he didn't do so on purpose. He thought the world of you, Jamie. He always called you his little angel."

  Tears sprang to Jamie's eyes as her words prompted a memory long forgotten until now. "We used to play together."

  "That's right. You must've been six or seven at the time. Your mom used to bring you over with her when we were working on church stuff." Lucy grabbed a box of tissue, offered Jamie one, then kept some for herself.

  Jamie dabbed at her tears. "We used to play in your backyard by the garage. He used to push me on the swing set." Dwight was nine years older than Jamie in physical years. Mentally, he was much, much younger.

  "I don't know why your mom stopped coming around. She even stopped going to worship service."

  Jamie recalled it was around that time they had stopped doing things as a family, too.

  "Can I ask you something, Jamie?"

  "Of course."

  "Why now? What brought you back to Jackson Ridge?"

  "Closure, I guess." Jamie took a sip of her tea then placed it back on the table. "The combination of my mother's death and learning about Dwight's has forced me to deal with a lot of things I've been putting off for far too long. For some reason, the Lord has led me back here. Maybe it's to find out what really happened, or maybe He just wants me to finally be able to move past it. I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out."

  She smiled at Jamie. "You've turned into a beautiful and intelligent woman. I'm sure your parents would be very proud of you."

  "Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me."

  "I'm sorry I wasn't of any help to you."

  "Oh, but you were." She got back some memories she had forgotten and learned there was an eyewitness. It was more than she had before she came.

  Lucy walked her to the door. "Thank you for stopping by. When I saw you in church, I was tempted to talk to you, but I guess I was afraid to. So many people around here still blame me."

  "I don't believe that's true, Lucy. Even if Dwight did do it, which I don't believe he did, it's not your fault."

  "Maybe you're right. Perhaps I've just been blaming myself."

  Jamie took a couple of steps then stopped and turned back to the woman. "Can I ask how you knew it was me in church? I was wearing a wig. And I'm fourteen years older."

  "There are some things about a person not even a wig and makeup can hide." She giggled. "It's hard to explain. You always had this fearless energy about you that made people know you were destined for something great."

  "Gre
atness is curing the world of a horrible disease or inventing something like the computer."

  "Okay, let's just say everyone knew you would manage to get away from here and do something special with your life. You didn't let what happened to you steal your dreams."

  "I had a lot of help from God in that department."

  "Something else that gave you away is Gage Hansen. You two were almost inseparable when you were kids."

  ***

  The next person of whom Jamie could think might have some answers for her was her father's former law partner. The Addison law firm was located in a single-story redbrick building on the south side of the square. Having called ahead for an appointment, Jamie was greeted by the young brunette receptionist and was told Bob expected her and to go on back. As she passed her father's old office, a pang of sadness lay heavy on her heart. She missed him almost as much today as she did fourteen years ago.

  Her knock was answered with an invitation to come in.

  Bob Addison, at least an inch shorter than Jamie, looked to be around fifty, with charcoal colored hair and graying temples. "It's good to see you again, Jamie. Please have a seat."

  Jamie sank into one of the red plush chairs facing his desk. She hadn't seen the man since he notified her in person of her mother's death over eight months ago. All other communication had been done by phone or email. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Bob."

  "That's all right. What can I do for you?" He leaned back, locking his hands behind his head.

  "I was wondering if you attended the trial of Dwight Jennings?"

  "No. I was swamped with work. I barely kept up with it in the paper."

  "Do you know who his attorney was?" Jamie hadn't thought to ask Lucy.

  "I'm pretty sure Mrs. Jennings hired a lawyer out of Greensburg or Cheyenne. I figure she was probably afraid no attorney here would take the case. James was a revered community leader."

  "So you don't know of any enemies he might have had?"

  "He was an attorney, so of course there were some who may not have cared for him, disgruntled clients more than likely. But for the most part, he was a well-loved man. What's going on, Jamie?"

  "I had a look at my dad's case file last week and there are a few questions I'm trying to answer."

  "Most everyone around here was shocked that the Jennings boy was arrested for his murder. When you have an eyewitness, though, guilt is kind of hard to refute."

  "Do you know who the witness was?"

  He lowered his arms and shook his head. "Like I said, I barely kept up with the trial. Anything I heard came from talk around town, which you can't always believe."

  "One more question and I'll let you get back to work. Do you know what the payout was on my dad's insurance policy?"

  "Five hundred thousand. I know because we took out the same policy. He wanted to make sure you and your mom were well taken care of in the event anything ever happened to him."

  Yet she never received a penny of it. Jamie found it hard to believe her mother could go through a half million dollars in just fourteen years while working full time. In L.A. easily, but not in Jackson Ridge.

  "Your dad was a great man. He wasn't only my partner. He was my best friend. James taught me so much. Not just the law, but how to be a decent person. He was always doing pro-bono work for clients who couldn't afford to pay. I even knew him to pay a person's rent from time to time. Helping folks out came second nature to him."

  Jamie smiled. She'd never heard those things about her father before.

  "He'd be so proud of you today. I remember how he would always boast about those school plays you did."

  Jamie remembered he seldom missed one. She decided she better go before she burst into tears again. "Thanks for seeing me today, Bob, and thanks for sharing about my dad."

  He came around the desk just as she stood and he gave her a hug. "If you need anything, Jamie, don't hesitate to call me."

  ***

  After Jamie dined on a grilled chicken and steamed vegetable meal she threw together, she braved a trip to the basement to get one of the totes filled with her mother's old bank statements dated from around the time of her father's murder.

  She deposited it in the middle of the living room floor then turned the TV to the music channel. Sitting cross-legged in front of the tote, she sorted through the paperwork until she found the one showing the deposited insurance check. Jamie noticed a savings account balance of two hundred thousand dollars.

  "You've gotta be kidding me. Really, Mom? Seven hundred thousand dollars and Grandma had to mortgage her home to send me to college. Then you dump this place on me."

  Jamie searched through the weeks following the deposit for any large deductions. Two statements later, she found a withdrawal for one hundred thousand dollars. There wasn't a check or a transfer transaction number, so that meant it was taken out in cash.

  She expelled a deep breath and leaned back against the coffee table. What in the world did her mother do with one hundred thousand dollars in cash?

  Only criminals had that kind of cash lying around.

  Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.

  She went through the rest of the statements in the tote. A year after her father's death, almost to the day, her mother withdrew another fifty thousand. Each year after that, other large withdrawals were made but not always the same amount, and most were under ten thousand dollars.

  Had she gone from buying booze to purchasing drugs? No way could she have been strung out on drugs and kept her job at the courthouse.

  There was only one other explanation of which Jamie could think. Rita Riedel had paid someone to kill Jamie's father. The first hundred thousand was probably a down payment.

  What kind of contract killer accepted installments, though? Someone she knew maybe.

  Anger gripped Jamie to the point she wanted to lash out. Hit something. Someone. Preferably her mother. How God? How could she have my dad killed? He provided for us. He never mistreated us. He was supportive. He loved us. Why would she have him killed?

  Jamie stood, paced back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. She hadn't had a drink of alcohol in three years, but the urge to indulge had never been stronger. Lord, I need your help. I'm hanging on by a thread here. You brought me to this place. Please strengthen me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gage was in the middle of writing a speeding ticket when a call came over his radio that an ambulance was being dispatched to 212 North Elm. Derek responded he was in route to the location. Gage recalled Lucy Jennings lived in that area, but he wasn't sure of the exact address.

  He finished his ticket and walked back to the beat-up red convertible. The owner, a sixteen-year-old boy, leaned against the driver's door. His girlfriend sat inside the car, her arms folded. Gage handed the kid his ticket and wished him a good day.

  "Yeah right."

  "Could've been worse," Gage told him. "Instead of just the speeding, I could have cited you for failure to use your turn signal and a broken left tail light."

  "Thanks."

  "Just slow it down, and keep those seatbelts on."

  "Yes, sir."

  Gage checked in with the dispatcher and informed her he was heading to Derek's location. He then said a quick prayer for the occupants of the home.

  A crowd of onlookers was gathered along the street in front of the beige two-story. It was the Jennings home. Gage parked across the street and jogged over. Derek came out and held the door as two paramedics carried out the woman on a stretcher. Gage hurried to the back of the ambulance and opened the doors. Mrs. Jennings lay unconscious on a backboard, wearing a neck brace, with her head bandaged. They had her hooked up to an IV and oxygen. Gage waited until she and one of the paramedics were inside before he shut the door. The ambulance backed from the drive and raced down the street with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  Gage joined Derek in the front doorway. "What happened?"

  "Took a f
all down the stairs. The postman was delivering a package, and when she didn't come to the door, he peeked inside, saw her and called it in."

  Gage followed Derek inside. To the left was the stairs; on a step midway up, a house slipper. He moved closer. A large puddle of dried blood had formed on the floor a few feet from the bottom step. Gage followed small blood droplets to the top of the stairs.

  "Do you know if she has family around here?" Derek had only lived in Jackson Ridge four years so, except for rumors he may have heard, he was unfamiliar with the Riedel murder case.

  "No." Dwight was her only child, and Lucy had lost her husband several years ago. "I'll phone the pastor and let him know. Why don't you check with the neighbors and see if they saw or heard anything. Judging from the pool of dried blood, I'd say she'd been there a few hours." It was a miracle the fall didn't kill her.

  On his way back to the station, Gage called Reverend Lawson and informed him of Lucy's accident.

  "I sure am sorry to hear that. I'll call the hospital and find out where they're taking her. Hey, while I have you on the phone, I wanted to let you know that a rather sizable donation has come in from someone who wishes to remain anonymous. It was designated to fund future mission trips. So your team's trip in January is fully funded."

  "That's great news, Pastor. I'll let the others know." Gage hung up and smiled. He had a strong hunch Jamie was their anonymous donor.

  ***

  Jamie entered the police department, carrying the box of pastries she had picked up at the bakery. The dispatcher was on the phone, so Jamie waited until she finished talking before Jamie lifted the lid and offered her one.

  "Thank you, Miss Sutton . . . I mean Riedel. Sorry."

  "Please, just Jamie. Did Gage tell you?"

  "No, I saw the photo that was posted online after your attempted mugging."

  "Ah yes, the photo." Jamie wondered how many other people in Jackson Ridge now knew she was here. "Is Gage in this morning?"