“Margaret’s ex-husband?” Star turned to me and said, “Case closed. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. I didn’t feel as confident as Star to place judgment on Billy Sims. “Has anyone else purchased these?”
Dickerson placed the log book on the counter and turned it in our direction. He pointed to the line that showed Billy Sims’ name. Beside his name the arrow type in question was listed. Additionally, the log noted a quantity of ten purchased.
“It’s right there in front of you,” he replied. “Clear as day.”
“Do have any idea as to why Mr. Sims would purchase these?”
“Billy and his family have been shopping here as long as I can remember. He’s an excellent bow-hunter. In fact, that buck over there on the wall is one of his kills.”
“So, why do you have it?” Star asked.
“He lost his house in the divorce, so he needed somewhere to keep it. He apparently doesn’t have room to store it at his sister’s house.”
“Do you mind if I get a copy of that page in your log book?” I asked. The log book entry with Billy’s name might end up being valuable evidence. I wanted to bring a copy to Sam.
“That might cost you.”
“Forget this,” Star said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a picture of the page with it. “Done.”
“Well played, sweetheart. Well played,” Dickerson said as he snickered. “Why are you two so interested in this arrow? Where’d ya even find it?”
“You heard the news that Margaret Pettyjohn was murdered, didn’t you?”
“I did hear that from a few customers today, but I didn’t know her that well. You could say that we didn’t travel in the same social circles. She definitely wasn’t the type to visit an establishment like this.”
“We found this arrow a few yards away from the location of Margaret Pettyjohn’s murder. Another arrow like this one was found in her chest.”
“That’s rough,” he replied. “Are you thinking Billy did it?”
“After what you showed us, I’m sure he’s on the list.”
“I can’t see Billy as the type of person to murder someone, but he’s a pretty good shot. I’ll give him that,” Dickerson said as he shook his head. “Although his sister was the best shot in the family.”
“Trudy?” I asked. “She didn’t seem like the type.”
“Oh, yeah. She had a bow in her hand before she could walk. Trudy and Billy both hunted with their father growing up,” he said. “If I recall correctly, she won a few archery competitions when she was younger. But I haven’t seen her around here in a while. It’s a shame, really.” He paused. “Look ladies, I need to finish up inventory. If you’re not going to buy anything, I’ll just have to ask ya to move on.”
“Understood. We appreciate you taking the time to answer our questions,” I said before I turned to walk away.
“Come back now if y’all git the itchin’ to try out one of our new AR-10s. We have them in pink.”
“That was amazing, Star,” I said as we walked out the door. “That move you did by paying him off was like something out of a movie.”
“All in a day’s work,” she said. “And by the way…you owe me twenty.”
Chapter 15
Now that I possessed a key piece of evidence, I couldn’t wait to share my discovery with Sam. I asked Star to drop me off at City Hall, on her way to work.
Sunny Shores City Hall sat atop a steep hill east of downtown. The site originally housed a Spanish watchtower in the 1700s, which was used to assist in navigating the Florida coast. The Seminole Indians attacked and destroyed the original watchtower structure, leaving only a pile of rocks. A few of these rocks remained on display today.
Our current city hall building was constructed in 1990, around a lighthouse built in the 1800s. Because it was so rich with history, the town took pride in the building. Many tourists visited each year, as the building boasted one of Florida’s oldest lighthouses.
I walked into City Hall and marched confidently through the atrium. I wasted no time and went straight to Sam’s office. Unfortunately, I noticed he wasn’t alone. The wind blew completely out of my sails when I saw Detective Beaux standing there.
“Miss Kara,” Detective Beaux said as he smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Chief Martin and I were just talking about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” I said, only half-joking.
“What brings you by my office tonight, Kara?”
“This,” I said as I placed the arrow on his desk.
“Doesn’t that arrow look like the one found on the scene, Beaux,” Sam said as he turned to Detective Beaux.
Beaux shook his head in agreement. “It sure looks like it.”
Sam called his assistant using his speaker phone.
“Sarah, can you bring me a piece of evidence? Case 7A234 Item 1-1.”
Sam sat back into his chair. Both he and Detective Beaux examined the arrow. They both looked perplexed.
“Where did you find that?” Detective Beaux asked.
“Star and I discovered it in the woods outside the Bumbling Buoy,” I replied. “You know, in that wooded area between both properties.”
“Returning to the scene of the crime, huh?” Beaux said. “For such a pretty little thing, you can’t seem to stay away from trouble, can you?”
In an attempt to ignore the jerk, I turned to Sam. “To be fair, I wasn’t snooping around the crime scene. We were questioning the owner of the bar. We found the arrow while outside the bar, stuck in the side of a tree.”
“So, you don’t consider questioning a potential witness snooping around?” Beaux asked as he snickered.
Sarah, Sam’s assistant, walked in and handed Sam a clear evidence bag which contained the arrow used in the murder. The two of them put on gloves and briefly compared both the arrows. In the end, both agreed that the arrows were identical.
“Nice find,” Sam said as he placed the arrow I found in a separate evidence bag.
“That’s not all,” I said as I turned my cell phone to face Sam. I showed them the picture Star texted me on my phone of Dickerson’s log sheet.
“What’s this?” Sam asked.
“We stopped by Dickerson’s Sporting Goods to see if he could identify the arrow,” I replied. “Not only did he recognize it, he keeps a log of who purchases anything from the store. This is a photo of the log sheet with the name of the purchaser.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sam said as he took my phone.
“According to Mr. Dickerson, Billy Sims is the only person to purchase these arrows from his shop. I’m not sure if it’s enough evidence to accuse Billy, but it seems suspicious enough.”
“Great work, Kara,” Sam said as he handed my phone to Sarah. “Sarah, can you find a way to print this picture for evidence?”
“Sam, I think we have enough on Billy to bring him into custody,” Beaux said confidently. “The last thing we need is for that gentleman to skip town.”
“It seems pretty much like an open and shut case to me,” he said as he flipped through his notebook. “The ex-husband displays a garden variety of motives on top of possibly owning the murder weapon.”
“Hmm…”
“I’m guessing you think differently.”
“It seems too obvious to me.” I explained. “It’s possible someone set him up.”
“Trust me, Kara. I’ve been in this business almost fifteen years now. More times than not, the obvious person is the perp.”
“Detective Beaux’s point is valid, Kara,” Sam said. “For the safety of our town, we should bring him in.”
Sam called in his deputy sheriff and instructed him to bring Billy Sims in for questioning. Although most of the evidence collected pointed in his direction, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t add up.
Chapter 16
The next morning, I decided to take a walk through Grove Park. Grove Park st
ood at the main entrance to the public beach. The Burger She Wrote food truck, along with five other trucks, was set up in Grove Park.
As the sun peeked out from the horizon, the park was mostly deserted. Other than a few townsfolk jogging or taking their morning walk, the only other people in the park were the food truck owners. Most of us needed an hour or so of prep before the tourists trolled in.
I walked up and stared at the Burger She Wrote food truck. “She looks so lonely,” I said to myself.
Although I could legally enter my food truck, I wasn’t in the mood. To keep my sanity I’d observe it from the outside.
“Wonderful morning to you, Miss Kara,” a warm, familiar voice called out behind me. I knew who it was instantly from the strong Jamaican accent.
I turned around and saw Willie Wylan. Willie walked through Grove Park every morning on his way to the boardwalk. He was retired, but painted art and sold it to the tourists on the boardwalk.
Willie Wylan was another one of the more interesting characters in Sunny Shores. He stood tall and lanky, with long, charcoal grey dreadlocks. He wore the same outfit every day, it seemed, and most people in town believed he was homeless.
Regardless of what others thought, I found the older gentleman charming. Regardless of how he looked or dressed, Willie was cordial each time we crossed paths. He never missed an opportunity to say hi and greet me with a smile.
“Hey Willie, how are you this morning?” I asked.
“I be doing great,” he said as he smiled. “Although, I be missing my daily treat since you’ve been closed.”
“Trust me, I know. If I don’t open up my truck soon, I’ll go crazy.”
“On the bright side, I think I’ve lost about five pounds,” Willy said as he pointed to his stomach.
“If your sweet tooth takes over, stop by the Breezy Bean Café. Bonnie May agreed to sell a few of my pies, but I’ll save you a slice on the house.”
I noticed Willie carrying a copy of the town newspaper, the Sunny Shore Times. He folded the paper in two, but I could make out a few words of the headline. They said something about a murder. Of course, my curiosity got the best of me.
“What’s the scuttle butt today?” I asked as I pointed to the newspaper.
“Looks like they brought in that Sims fellow for murderin’ his ex-wife,” Willie explained as he handed me the newspaper.
I grabbed the paper from Willie and unfolded it. I read the headline out loud. “Man Charged in the Murder of Local Area Town Council Member.”
“Seems everyone’s convinced that fella did it.”
“Maybe,” I said as I continued to skim the article.
“Ah,” Willie said as he shook his finger, “I see the wheels turning in your head, dear. You not be so convinced, huh?”
“Something smells fishy, and I’m not referring to the smell from tha Fish Tacos food truck,” I explained. “Everyone in town thinks his motive revolved around money, but I’m not convinced. He paid a ton in alimony and lived with his sister, but he seemed to have a good life. I really think he enjoyed being a free-loader. It seemed all he wanted to do was hunt and drink. From the looks of tings, he did plenty of each.”
“Hmm,” Willie said as he paused for a moment. He lightly tapped the side of his head with his finger.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Am I crazy?”
Willie laughed. “Trust me, dear. Dis town’s full of crazy, and you ain’t dat. I tink you have a gift for dis kind of ting. Trust da voice inside your head. I know I listen to mine.”
“Who else murdered her? What motive would they have? I’ve racked my brain and can’t think of anyone else.”
“If dere’s one thing I learned over my many years on dis earth, it’s dat money be a powerful motivator. Aldough, I can tink of one ting more powerful.”
“What’s that?”
“Love,” he said as he patted his heart with his left hand. “Love and passion. Cupid has a way of putting da sanest person under his spell. All it takes is one shot of dat arrow to turn anyone crazy. Well, I got to go get set up,” Willie said as he turned to walk away. “Have a good day.”
As Willie continued, I thought about what he said. If love or jealousy created this mess, I needed answers. Who better to ask than going straight to the source?
A few of my earliest memories revolved around visiting my father at work. As a little girl, I was fascinated by the criminal justice process. I loved watching my dad explain how he booked criminals and took fingerprints and mugshots. I took selfie mugshots of myself, before selfies became a cool thing.
Things had changed a great deal since I visited the jail. For one thing, you couldn’t visit face-to-face with an inmate. Instead, you had to get an appointment and video chat.
Luckily, I signed up for the last available time slot that day. Once my time arrived, I walked into a room with two rows of tables with small partitions between the seats. Within each partition sat a monitor and phone.
I entered the special code given at registration and the phone rang. The monitor read, “Waiting on Inmate.” I waited patiently for what seemed like ten minutes before the call connected. At that point, I had no clue what I was going to say.
The image of a rough and grizzled looking man, dressed in orange, appeared on the screen in front of me. He appeared to have not shaved, showered, or slept for days. He stared at me through the monitor before he finally spoke.
“Do I know you?” he asked with a confused look in his eyes.
“Mr. Sims, my name is Kara Summers. I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind?”
“Hmm,” he mumbled into the phone as he stared into the monitor. “I do remember you now. Aren’t you the gal who helped solve the Harmon case?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I said with pride.
“Hey! Weren’t you also the little kid who stomped on my ex’s prized petunias a while ago?”
“Again, yes that’s me,” I said as I blushed in embarrassment. I felt as if I would never live that one down.
“Look, Kara. I need help. The police think I murdered Margaret. That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it really?” I asked. “To be honest, the evidence is starting to stack against you.”
I watched him through the video monitor as his head sank down in shame. I could tell that he was visibly upset with the situation, but I couldn’t quite get a read on him yet.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said as he struck the table with his fist. “Now don’t get me wrong. There’s been many a time I joked about wanting her dead but I never really meant it. She was my ex-wife, for goodness sake. People joke about that sort of thing all the time.”
“Two arrows were found on the scene,” I explained. “One arrow was used in her murder, while the other arrow was found stuck in a tree.”
“What kind of arrows?”
“According to Mr. Dickerson at Dickerson’s Sporting Goods, the arrow was a CTX-721 Carbon.”
“Is that so?” he said, and his gaze shifted to the ground. “What else did Dickerson say?”
“Mr. Dickerson’s log showed you as the only person purchasing that type of arrow from his store. It lists you as purchasing a set of ten on April 10th of this year.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Dickerson’s isn’t the only place that sells those type of arrows. The one you found might have been purchased on Amazon, for all we know.”
“True, but these are the arrows used to kill your ex-wife. You were the only one in town to purchase that particular type of arrow. It looks bad on your end, honestly.”
“I only used them once, for target practice in my backyard. All ten of them should be accounted for in the quiver. It should be in the same spot I left it the other day.”
“And where’s that?”
“I left the bow and the quiver full of arrows on my back porch. They should be in the back in the corner near the swing. Why don’t you go by and see for yourself? My sister’s address is 45 Tide P
ool Way. Just tell her I sent you,” he said as he pleaded for my help. “If you can find the quiver with all ten arrows, it’d prove my innocence, right?”
“I can’t say for sure, but it would certainly help,” I said as I noticed the time flashing in the corner of the screen. The countdown clock on the monitor read 14:30, indicating only thirty seconds remaining in the call.
“Before I go, Mr. Sims, can you think of anyone else who might want Margaret dead? Did she have any other enemies you can think of?”
He looked up at the monitor and smiled for the first time. “Kara, that list is way too long to name with the amount of time left.”
Chapter 17
The next morning, I awoke to an unusual sight. Mr. Whiskers lay stretched at the foot of the bed sound asleep. He purred loudly as he slept peacefully.
He looked adorable. I sat up and reached out my hand to pet him. His eyes opened wide as my hand approached him. His purrs turned to screeches of anger as he jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.
“I seem to repel the male gender,” I said to myself as I stepped out of bed. “I guess that includes all species, even cats.”
It was a beautiful day, so I decided to walk to the Breezy Bean Café. I wanted to share my conversation with Star and attempt to convince her take me to Trudy’s house that evening. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious how my pies were selling.
With the Fourth of July holiday around the corner, the café boomed with business. I walked in and found an open seat at the counter, as there were no empty tables left. As I sat down, Bonnie May walked over to greet me.
“Two slices of coconut pie and two espressos for table five,” Star said as I approached the counter in a hurry. She looked frazzled and worn-out. Running back and forth through a restaurant took a toll on Star, especially since she was used to working in my truck, which was a smaller space.
“You meant to say Coconut Crème Confession, right?” I said, trying to lighten the mood, but Star wasn’t having it.
Coconut Cream Confession Page 7
