by J. R. Adler
She let out a small sigh and moved on with the questioning. Kent was an old-fashioned man, so anyone that was dressed out of the ordinary would appear to be a weirdo to him. As this person clearly had a goth or punk style and visited years ago, it wasn’t of any help to the current case.
“And you’re the only one that gives the tours? Your wife doesn’t help out?” Kimberley asked.
“Just me. My son Kent Jr. was helping here and there when we were fully booked, but he hasn’t in a while. My wife’s actually the reason I even got into it. I retired early and she was tired of me sitting around watching Fox News. So, she kept harping on at me to pick up a hobby or volunteer somewhere. That’s when I came up with the ghost tour idea, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“What’s your wife do?” Kimberley asked.
“Ruth… she works at the local pharmacy.”
“Is she there now?” Kimberley asked.
“No, she’s getting groceries. She works very part time, just coverage when they need it.”
Kimberley nodded. Then her eyes widened for a second. Like a lightbulb went off in her head. His wife works at the pharmacy. She must have known Hannah Brown. Would Kent have known her too? Well, obviously, given how small the town is.
“Well, I think that’s everything.” Sam stood from his seat and pulled a card from his front pocket. “If you think of anything else, please give me a call.”
Kent took the card from him. Kimberley stood and followed Sam and Kent to the front door.
“Who was it?” Kent asked.
Sam turned back toward him as he stepped outside onto the porch. “Who was what?”
“The person that was murdered.”
Sam looked at Kimberley and then back at Kent.
“Hannah Brown.”
Kent’s mouth dropped open. “That poor girl.”
“Wait, Ruth works at the pharmacy where Hannah worked at?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.
“That’s right.”
“Has your wife ever mentioned Hannah?” Kimberley asked.
Kent scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m sure. She’s filled in for shifts for Hannah and Michelle, but she works alone since she’s very part time and only there for coverage.”
“Did you know the victim, Kent?” Kimberley took a tiny step toward him, closing some of the distance between her and him.
“Oh, yes. Hannah was a sweet girl. I didn’t know her all that well, but I knew her. It’s a small town.” Kent nodded.
“Indeed, it is,” she said. “Have a good day, Mr. Wills. And thanks for these.” She held up the notebooks.
“Of course. Whatever I can do to help. Just let me know. And you’ll get those back to me when you’re done, right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sam replied.
“Ya know, for taxes purposes.” Kent winked at Kimberley.
She turned her head and rolled her eyes. Sam nodded at him and they both headed back to the vehicle.
“Whatcha think?” Kimberley asked, fastening her seat belt.
“I think I’ll have Deputy Burns call around to local inns and motels, see who’s been passing through town recently and we’ll get started on sorting through those log books tomorrow.”
“What about Kent?”
“What about him?” Sam looked at Kimberley.
“Whatcha think about him?”
“I think we should head over to The Trophy Room. I could use a beer.” Sam turned the engine on.
It was clear to Kimberley, Sam had no intention of pointing any fingers at his residents just yet. He had tunnel vision and that tunnel went straight past his precious Custer County.
“Besides, I think we can squeeze some info out of the locals there. See who’s passed through town. Kill two birds with one stone, as they say.”
“Right,” Kimberley said, opening the first spiral.
The page was nearly filled with names, a full tour for the day, showing that Kent’s business had to have been quite lucrative.
17
Sam walked into The Trophy Room first, holding the door for Kimberley to enter behind. She looked around, noticing the bar was exactly how she had left it a few days earlier. The same old men sat at their gambling machines, permanent fixtures of the establishment. The pool tables and dartboards were in use by bikers and farm boys. A couple of regulars were spread out, bellied up to the bar, drinking their pints of cheap beer. It was like a level of a video game, the same environment and characters loaded for play the exact same way every time you booted up the scenario. As soon as people noticed Sam and Kimberley’s presence, all eyes were on them. Whispers ensued. Kimberley was sure that news of Hannah’s murder had traveled fast. She expected that. In a small town like Dead Woman Crossing, gossip was like an airborne virus. Difficult to contain and easily transmitted. They were all infected.
Standing behind the bar with a dirty dishrag thrown over his shoulder was Ryan, just the guy they were looking for.
“This is the town watering hole and Ryan here is at the center of it. He knows most everything about everyone,” Sam said in a low voice to Kimberley.
She nodded. In New York City, the ones that had dirt were informants. Here in Dead Woman Crossing, they were creepy bartenders.
Despite what had happened in his town, there was still an arrogance to him. He gave them a smug look, never breaking eye contact. Kimberley took the lead, walking to the bar and taking a seat on one of the stools. Sam sat beside her, tipping his head at a couple of the regulars.
“Miss me?” Ryan smirked at Kimberley. He pulled the towel from his shoulder and wiped the bar top down in front of them.
“Hardly,” Kimberley retorted. “Two Bud Lights,” she said, holding up two fingers.
She decided to take the approach that she and Sam were just blowing steam off after a difficult workday, rather than the fact that they were there to collect information.
Ryan filled the two pints and set them in front of Sam and Kimberley. Sam immediately threw a ten-dollar bill on the bar. Ryan nodded, took the money and returned four single dollar bills.
“You look better in uniform,” he said to Kimberley with a sleazy leer.
Sam took a long drink, set the pint glass down, and narrowed his eyes at Ryan.
“I think you’d look better in uniform too. Got a nice orange jumpsuit at the station with your name on it.”
Ryan let out a chuckle. “Alright, I get it. She’s your girl.” He backed up and tended to a patron at the end of the bar.
Sam shook his head.
“Sorry about him. He’s our town dipshit.”
Kimberley smiled. “My first interaction with him led me to that conclusion as well.” She tipped back the pint glass, consuming nearly half the beer in a couple of gulps.
After the day she’d had, the beer went down like water. Crisp and refreshing.
An old man with a belly and a bald head tapped Sam on the shoulder. He clearly took no pride in his appearance as he was wearing ratty jeans and a graphic tee with a lion on it.
“Heard about the murder, Sheriff Walker. Such a shame. Hannah was a good girl,” he said, every other word slurring.
Sam nodded. “It sure is. Can’t believe something like that happened in our town. Have you heard anything, Jeff?”
Jeff rubbed the top of his head. “A lot of talk goin’ round town, like maybe Hannah was into something dirty. I’ve ’erd chatter of ’er being a sex worker.”
Sam shook his head. “This town’s only good for bullshit gossip. Where’d they get that idea from?”
“Ya know how people are round here. They make mountains out of mole hills. I’ve been tryin’ to shut it down. Hannah was a good girl. Ain’t no way she got tangled up in summin like that.”
“Who d’you hear that from?” Kimberley quickly jumped in.
“Overheard a couple of them farm boys talking about it. Not sure on their names though.”
“And you knew Hannah? How did you know her?”
Kimberley asked.
“Well, I got the diabeetus, so I’m at the pharmacy a lot for my meds. She was always kind to me. Always greeted me with a smile, asked how I was.”
“Thanks, Jeff. Seen any outsiders come in recently?”
“Just some bikers, travelin’ through a week or so ago, two couples. Ya know the types? Middle-aged, dressed in leather from head to toe, riding Harleys. We get lots of bikers coming through though and I usually keeps to myself.” He looked over at Kimberley. “You must be our new chief deputy. Heard a lot about you.”
Kimberley nodded. “None of its true.”
Jeff let out a deep laugh. “She funny,” he said, pointing at Kimberley.
“Indeed. Let me know if you hear anything.” Sam sipped his beer.
“Course.”
Jeff backed away, returning to his stool in front of a slot machine.
Ryan returned from the other side of the bar. “Another one?” He gestured to the empty glass.
Kimberley nodded. “Tell me, Ryan, have you gotten any outside visitors passing through town lately?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow while refilling her pint glass. He set the beer in front of her and then scanned the bar. “Don’t really have any time to be answering your questions,” he said.
Kimberley looked around. There weren’t that many people in the bar, and it seemed everyone had already been taken care of. Ryan was being reluctant, uncooperative and it immediately raised a red flag. Was he hiding something? Or was he just not the type to talk to the police?
Kimberley looked at her watch and then back at Ryan. “Oh, gee, I didn’t even notice the time. You’re right! I guess it is time to do a full inspection on all the regs for upholding a county liquor license. Sam, where do you wanna start? I would assume kick everyone out first so as to not interfere with police business?”
“Nah. I say we ID all of them first. Make sure they are all the legal age of consumption. Log each patron and then we will need receipts and inventory logs for every bottle of alcohol. Make sure they were all purchased legally and with proper documentation and definitely make sure there’s nothing illegal like moonshine or any narcotics on the premises.”
Ryan twisted his lips and folded his arms across his chest. “Alright, alright. Just chill the fuck out. I seen a couple in here the other day, visiting from out of town. Murder tourists as they called themselves. A bit sketch, if ya ask me. Mid-thirties, from Texas or South Carolina or something, and they were in here asking a lot of questions about Dead Woman Crossing and the story of Katie DeWitt James.”
Sam gave Kimberley a puzzled look.
“You know where they were staying?” Kimberley asked.
“Nope.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders.
“They just came in here asking about murder?” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.
“Yup. Like I said a bit sketch, if ya ask me.”
“Sketch, how?” Kimberley asked.
“Ugly, missing teeth, ratty hair, like that kind of sketch…”
She wasn’t sure if Ryan didn’t know the definition of “sketch” or if this was all a load of bullshit. It seemed as though he was messing with her and Sam, and Kimberley thought the only way to get any answers out of him were in an interrogation room, not in his bar, his domain.
“When were they here?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Yesterday. Could have been the day before. Could have been both days for all I know.” Ryan rubbed his forehead.
“They talk to anyone else?” Sam asked.
“They could have. I don’t know for sure.”
Sam drained the rest of his beer and set the empty pint glass down. Without asking, Ryan refilled it, but Kimberley was sure he only did so to busy himself, to get out of this conversation. She wasn’t buying his story. It was too buttoned up. Too pretty. Like a wrapped gift with a big bow. Ryan seemed to just be giving enough information to appease so he could get on with his day. But why? Why lead the police astray? Why give some false accounts of a couple of murder tourists stopping into his bar? Was Ryan hiding something? Or was he just what Sam had described him as, the town dipshit?
He set the beer down in front of Sam, telling him it was on the house.
Jeff meandered back over to the bar with his glass full of ice. “Ryan, ’nother Jack and Coke,” he said.
“You got it, Jeff.” Ryan collected the glass and busied himself with making a fresh drink.
“Hey, Jeff. You see a couple in their mid-thirties here talking about murder and the history of Dead Woman Crossing this week?” Sam asked. He had smelled Ryan’s bullshit too.
Jeff leaned against the bar, squinting one of his eyes. “Can’t say I have.”
“You been in here all week?”
“Like clockwork,” he said with a nod.
Kimberley couldn’t tell if he was proud of that fact or not, but one thing she knew, Ryan was lying.
Ryan set the Jack and Coke in front of Jeff.
“On the tab,” Jeff said, collecting his drink.
Ryan nodded.
“Where were you this morning between the hours of two a.m. and four a.m.?” Kimberley asked. She was tired of Ryan’s bullshit and with Jeff saying he hadn’t seen this mysterious couple and with Ryan being uncooperative, she figured it was time to push him.
Ryan tossed the dirty rag over his shoulder and looked above the heads of Kimberley and Sam. When he was ready to answer, he locked eyes with them, raising his chin defiantly.
“I was here cleaning and closing up. Around two, I went upstairs to bed. My apartment’s above the bar.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.
“You live alone?” Kimberley asked.
“Most nights,” he said with a sleazy smile.
“Were you alone last night?”
“You seem to be very interested in my sleeping arrangements, Chief Deputy King.”
“Just answer the damn question, Ryan,” Sam warned.
He let out a huff. “Yeah, I was alone last night. What else you want to know? What I wore to bed?”
Kimberley raised her chin. “Nope. That’ll be all… for now.”
He turned on his foot and walked to the end of the bar, as far away from Sam and Chief Deputy King as he could get.
“What you make of that?” Sam asked.
“No alibi, but nothing tying him to the murder scene. I can’t tell if he’s guilty of anything more than being an asshole.”
“He’s clearly lying, but I’m not sure why.” Sam scratched his brow.
“What about that comment from Jeff about Hannah being a hooker? Think there’s any truth to that?” Kimberley tilted her head.
“I find it hard to believe, but we’ll follow up on it.” Sam nodded.
She had had enough of The Trophy Room and was ready to get home to her daughter.
Sam drank the rest of his beer. “I’ll have one of the deputies keep an eye on Ryan in the meantime. Ready to head out?”
Kimberley nodded and stood from her stool.
18
Kimberley walked the rock-lined path around the big white farmhouse to the cottage in back. She was happy to get home to her daughter, to hold her close. It was the one thing she never took for granted, holding her baby, since she had witnessed this simple joy ripped away from others far too often.
“I got something,” Kimberley said, tossing a file folder on Detective Hunter’s desk. Lynn closed the filing cabinet and spun around in her chair.
Her swollen belly was in the way of getting close enough to her desk that she could lean her elbows on it. Lynn grabbed the folder and opened it up.
“Whatcha got?”
“I found the connection between the three victims.” Kimberley took a seat.
“Other than they were all pregnant?” Lynn raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, so we know the first victim was Jenny Roberts, a waitress from Harlem, very early on in her pregnancy. Then, victim two was Maria Velasquez, a legal secretary from the lower eastside. Victim
three was Stephanie Weisman, an investment banker from Greenwich Village. The victims came from very different backgrounds, classes, etc. and it seems like they wouldn’t have anything connecting them. But they all worked at the Blue Devil Diner at some point. Maria, only a couple years back. Jenny was an employee up until she was murdered, and Stephanie worked there back when she was attending NYU.”
“How come we didn’t know this before?”
“The owner, Eddie Russo, pays his employees under the table, no tax records, no employment records. He’s owned the place for over ten years and he’s got a rap sheet. Armed robbery. Assault,” Kimberley said. “He served time for the armed robbery from age nineteen to twenty-four.”
“Motive?”
“I’m not sure. But he’s the only connection we’ve found between the three victims. Should we bring him in?”
Detective Hunter paused for a moment, flipping through the pages once more. She nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. Let’s bring him in for questioning.”
Kimberley stood from her seat. “How ya feeling?” she asked.
Lynn looked down at her belly. “I’d feel much better if we could get this case solved before I go on maternity leave, but I know it’s in good hands with you, Kimberley,” she said with a smile.
Kimberley gave a small smile back. “I’m going to catch this guy. It’ll be my gift to you and that little boy of yours.”
“You know you have to actually get me a real gift.” Lynn cracked a smile, rubbing a hand over her belly.
“Who says I haven’t? Weren’t you the one that told me not to jump to conclusions?” Kimberley said with a knowing look.
Lynn shook her head. “Jesse here is going to love his smartass Aunt Kimberley.”
“Jesse?”
“Oh, shit.” Lynn put her hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone his name yet. Rick and I settled on it last night.”
“It’s perfect, and your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, Kimberley. Now, go. Round up some officers, track down Eddie, and bring that bastard in. I’ll obviously be here on desk duty waiting.”
“You got it!” she said, ducking out of the office. Kimberley peeked her head back into the cubicle. “Try not to give birth until I get back.”
