Toni Donovan Mysteries- Books 1-3

by Helen Gray

  “One of the lists seemed to be Ozark addresses. The two places where I found someone home, the names proved to be kids.”

  His brow furrowed. “Kids? You mean high school kids?”

  She nodded. “The two I found were teenage boys.”

  He made another note. “You better give me their names. There’s no use duplicating what you’ve done.”

  She told him who she had seen and her impressions.

  “You’re just not going to leave this alone, are you?” he said when she finished. “Well, be sure you keep me in the loop. I’ve told my chief about your involvement in those cases back home and your friendship with the chief of police there. But I don’t know what he’s going to say when I pass along this information and he learns that you got the jump on us.”

  Toni squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “Okay, you’ve grilled me. Now you give me something. What do you know that’s helpful?”

  He grinned. “I only have one thing. I had to work overtime, didn’t get off until six a.m. this morning. An autopsy report came in, and I got a look at it just before I left.”

  She was instantly intrigued.

  “Our victim was thirty-five years old. The coroner’s notes say that variables such as water temperature and rigor indicate he had been in the water eight to twelve hours. That means he must have been killed sometime between ten p.m. and two a.m.”

  “Did he die from the stabbing, or from drowning?”

  “There was a little water in his lungs, but the stabbing would have been fatal in any case. There was one puncture wound on the left chest that caught the heart. That was the fatal one. There was another smaller puncture in the right chest and one between the fourth and fifth ribs that collapsed his lungs.”

  “Any idea about the weapon used?”

  “The report says the depth, shape and size of the wounds indicate that the knife used was single edged with a blade six or seven inches long.”

  “That sounds like an average hunting knife.”

  “Probably,” he agreed. “The coroner noted that the angle of the wounds could indicate a killer near the same height as the victim, but that’s just a guess. It could be affected by the position of the victim and killer, such as if one of them was crouching.”

  He reached for the door latch. “One more thing. Durbin’s report confirms your crime scene theory. They believe he was stabbed on the path and pushed into the water. There was no evidence of a big struggle, so he was taken by surprise and wasn’t afraid of his killer.”

  “That means he knew him. Yes, I know it could have been a woman. But I tend to think of the killer as a man. It’s just the picture my mind insists on forming.”

  He shrugged. “That’s a good guess. Durbin and Chilton think the killer probably left through the woods. I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work.”

  “Will you let me know what you find out about the bookkeeper name I gave you?” she asked as he slid out of the van.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he agreed. “I’m also going to do my best to get my hands on Campbell’s computer.” He pushed the door shut and headed back to his pickup.

  Toni gathered her things and entered the house. She took her bags to her room and dumped them on the bed. As she was returning to the living room, a shriek sounded from the backyard. It was her mother-in-law.

  Chapter 8

  Toni rushed to the door and out onto the deck. The sight that met her eyes was one that only a mother could handle.

  One boy—it had to be Gabe, since it was the taller—took off in a run and made a headlong dive into the small trench that ran along the front edge of Dan’s garden. The second, shorter boy followed. The abandoned garden hose on the lawn told her they had used it to fill the trench with water and create a mudslide.

  “Oh! Oh!” Barb Donovan repeated over and over, wringing her hands. “You boys are a mess. Your mother will have a fit.”

  Toni wasn’t sure what kind of fit to have. When they stood, clad only in shorts, they resembled chocolate coated gingerbread boys.

  At that moment both boys noted her presence on the deck. They stood immobile, their eyes gleaming from behind muddy faces. Toni stared back at them, not sure whether to scream or laugh. Her eyes caught the sight of her father-in-law sitting in a lawn chair next to the house. One eye winked ever so slightly, telling her he had okayed—or been a conspirator to— their muddy adventure.

  Toni didn’t say a word. Instead, she walked over and picked up the nozzle of the water hose. Before the boys figured out what was happening, she turned on the water and advanced on them.

  “Don’t you move,” she ordered, aiming a stream directly onto Gabe’s chest. She pressed a thumb over one side of the nozzle, making the water spray. “If you’re going to act like pigs, you’ll be treated like pigs.”

  “Oink! Oink!” Gabe snorted, backing away.

  “I said don’t move,” she repeated loudly. “That means both of you,” she added as Garrett mimicked his brother.

  Against their protests she aimed the hose at their heads, knowing she would never get all the mud out of their hair. “You’re not going inside until you’re clean enough to not make a mess of the house.”

  Barb Donovan swept her hands upward in disgust and went to the house. With a final humph she slammed the door.

  Both boys yelped and complained as Toni hosed them, until they realized it was more fun than the sprinkler and turned it into a game. By the time they were reasonably clean, Toni’s hair and clothes were drenched.

  “I think you guys should entertain yourselves without shocking the life out of your grandmother,” she admonished as she twisted the knob to shut off the water.

  “She’ll get over it,” Dan said, taking the hose. “A little dirt is healthy. It means they’re normal boys.” His grin was lopsided.

  He looped the hose onto its mount on the side of the garage, and then returned to the yard. “You boys better go shower while I convince your grandma that a little mud won’t stunt your growth or offend our neighbors. Be sure you get squeaky clean so she’ll feed us.”

  A man of few words, her father-in-law’s comments amused Toni. In retirement he was getting more laid back all the time.

  The boys laughed and scampered around to the garage door so they could enter the house through the utility room.

  *

  After everyone was in bed that evening, Toni propped herself up against the headboard and called Kyle. “When do you plan to be home for the weekend?” she asked when he answered.

  “I should be there between six and seven Friday evening. What about you and the boys?”

  “I have to set up for Monday’s lab after tomorrow’s exam. It may be two or three o’clock by the time I can head for Clearmount.”

  As they went over their plans for the weekend Toni basked in the sound of her husband’s deep voice. He still made her feel warm and safe. They didn’t always agree on everything, but they could agree to disagree and had learned to compromise.

  She brought him up to date on the murder case and Quint’s assignment to it. He laughed when she told him about the boys and their mudslide.

  “How has your week been?” she asked after being assured that she shouldn’t let his mother’s persnickety-ness bother her.

  “It was fine,” he said, seeming to measure his words. “The company is having some problems. I’m not sure how serious they are, but they seem to be making a number of changes, shifting personnel and flights.”

  “If you learn anything more, you can tell me about it when you get home Friday.”

  Toni slept well that night, and the next morning’s exam was routine. She put the papers in her satchel to grade over the weekend and focused on setting up for Monday’s lab. She was almost finished at twelve-thirty when her cell phone rang.

  “Hey, Quizzy,” Quint greeted her with the childhood nickname he and Bill had given her after hearing their parents refer to their boys as dynamos and their daughter as inquisi
tive.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” She placed a microscope on a table with one hand while holding the phone with the other. “Got any news or progress?”

  “You’re in luck. I do have an item of interest. I checked around about the dead coach’s scorekeeper. Barry Kuzman is a bookkeeper all right. He’s a bookie.”

  Light bulbs started flashing in Toni’s brain. “Do you think Campbell was betting on things he shouldn’t have been?”

  “That’s a real possibility,” Quint said, his tone sounding grim. “I’m worried that he was a heavy gambler. Being a coach puts all kinds of significance into that.”

  “You think he was getting inside information?”

  “There’s always that possibility. Coaches also do some officiating.”

  Toni had heard and read stories of point shaving and paying officials to make calls that would affect point spreads or game outcomes.

  “I know you’re headed out of town, and I just wanted to touch base before you leave,” he said, interrupting her reflections. “See you next week.”

  It was two-thirty by the time Toni and the boys were on their way home. Conversation was minimal, and the drive began to melt away. It felt good when they reached the outskirts of Clearmount. Toni had grown up here, gone away to college, and then returned home to teach. She enjoyed visiting in Springfield and other cities, but she had never found any place she would rather live than in her hometown. She realized that many people would laugh at, or hate, small town life, but she just was a small town girl at heart. She belonged here.

  As she drove past the school just beyond the city limits, Toni’s cell phone rang.

  “Hey, where are you?” her brother, Bill, asked. “I’ve been trying to get you. I miss the sluggers.” His chuckle implied that she wasn’t missed.

  “I think I’ll hang up on you.”

  “Don’t do that,” he shot back. Then his tone gentled. “If you’re just getting in, I figure you’re tired and haven’t eaten. If you want to meet me at the Zinger, I’ll buy.”

  She wasn’t about to turn down such an offer. “You’re a life saver. See you in five minutes.”

  She shoved the phone back in her purse. “Bill’s taking us to eat,” she told the boys.

  Bill was waiting for them in front of the restaurant when they arrived. He lived there in Clearmount, and their mother liked to refer to him as her streetwalker, which was quite literally what he did as a mailman.

  Over dinner Toni and Bill caught up on events of the past week. While she related the story about finding the coach’s body, Bill’s expression turned pensive. “Since then you’ve been snooping, haven’t you?”

  “She has to, Uncle Bill,” Gabe said. “You know she has to find the truth about what happened.” His eyes were round with sincerity, his speech matter-of-fact.

  “It’s my fault,” Garret said more quietly. “I found the man, so she wants to be sure I’m safe.”

  Both boys understood her too well. Toni didn’t want Garrett to feel any guilt or responsibility, but she couldn’t refute wanting to know he was safe.

  “I understand,” Bill said. “We all want you safe, but we want her safe, too.”

  “She will be,” Gabe insisted. “She’s careful.”

  Bill’s gaze speared her. “You will be careful, won’t you? You’re the only sister I have.”

  “I’ll be very careful,” she promised. At least he wasn’t demanding that she close her eyes to the case or ignore her need to know the truth. Her little brothers had always known how to get her goat—like hiding her belongings or listening in on her phone calls—and delighted in doing so. But there had never been any question of their love for her.

  “You said John was jumped and hurt. Was that connected to your murder case?”

  Toni nodded. “We have a name that Quint’s looking into as a possible suspect.”

  When they finished eating, Bill paid their bill, and they parted company.

  It was now eight-thirty, and Toni was beat. “You guys get your showers and toss your clothes in the laundry,” she ordered when they arrived home. “I’ve got to get a load going.”

  Surprisingly there was no argument. When she had the washer running, Toni curled up on the sofa with the phone and dialed her principal at his home. “This is Toni Donovan,” she said when he answered. “I need a favor.”

  “I believe I owe you one.” Ken Douglas referred to her support when he was considered the prime suspect after their superintendent, with whom he had experienced conflict, was murdered. “What’s your problem?”

  “I’ve run into a situation in Springfield, and I need some information.” Once again she related the events of the past week, including the assault on John.

  “I remember hearing a brief account of that on the news, but I had no idea you were the teacher involved,” Ken said. “What kind of information do you need?”

  She gave him the victim’s identity and the little bit she knew about him. “I’d like to know more details about the man’s background.”

  There was a pause. “I know the principal at Ozark. I met him at a meeting three or four years ago, and we became friends. I’ll call him and see what I can learn.”

  When they disconnected, Toni called her mother and chatted for a while. “You’re still planning to leave the boys here when you go back to Springfield, aren’t you?” Faye asked before they ended the call.

  “If you’re still sure you’re not tired of them.”

  “We’re enjoying the extra time with them this summer,” she assured Toni.

  When they disconnected, Toni took a shower and crawled into bed. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  The next morning she tackled some housework and put in another load of laundry. When the boys crawled out of bed at nine o’clock, she fed them French toast and bacon. Then they headed for the outdoors and their bikes.

  Toni put a roast in the oven and was settled on the sofa grading papers when the phone rang. “Can you come by the school this afternoon?” her principal asked. “I have some information, and I think I’d rather share it in person.”

  “What time?”

  “Can you make it in a couple of hours? I have a meeting in five minutes, but I’ll be free by then. Say eleven o’clock?”

  When she disconnected, Toni went outside where Gabe and Garrett were shooting baskets in the driveway. “I have to go to the school for a meeting after awhile. Do you boys want to go with me and shoot baskets in the gym?”

  Gabe paused, poised for a shot. “The gym sounds good.”

  Garrett frowned, not so certain. “Oh, all right.” He had yet to catch his older brother’s fever for basketball.

  “We’ll leave at a quarter till eleven. Don’t disappear on me.” She went back inside.

  It was convenient living only two miles from the school. Located just outside town, it sat in front of a rolling hillside. Just before eleven Toni pulled into the large parking lot. There were only a few cars on it. Summer school was over, so administrative, office, and custodial staffs were the only ones working.

  When they entered the building, the boys went left to the gym while Toni veered right to the high school office. The secretary’s desk was unoccupied when she entered the front office. Paula was probably running an errand—or taking a break. If so, Toni couldn’t blame her for enjoying the relaxing summer work pace. She would make up for it when school started.

  “Come on back,” Ken called from the office directly to the rear.

  Toni found him at his desk, his laptop open before him.

  “Be right with you,” he said, typing something. He picked up his mouse, clicked it, and put it back down. Then he pushed the computer aside and smiled across the desk at her.

  Toni dropped into the chair facing him. “Thanks in advance for whatever you’ve spent time ferreting out for me.”

  Her principal was only three years older than her own thirty-six, dark haired and medium built. His speech t
ended to be rapid and his mannerisms somewhat nervous, but those had improved since the death of their superintendent who had put so much pressure on him and attempted to fire him over the objections of the school board.

  Ken clasped his hands together before him. “I called Grant Volner. It turns out that he and your victim grew up together in Sedalia.”

  “That means he knows all about the guy.” Toni practically bounced in her seat. “Does he have any idea who killed his friend?”

  Ken ran an index finger over his chin. “They were friends for many years, but that relationship ended this past year.”

  “You mean they had a big fight?”

  “I’m not sure what all occurred, but there were some real hard feelings. Jesse Campbell had an affair with Grant’s wife, and there was a divorce. Jesse married Grant’s ex the week after school was out.”

  Toni was stunned. “I met Sheila Campbell. She mentioned being married only a few weeks, and she indicated that she didn’t get custody of her children in a divorce.”

  She froze as another thought struck her. “Are you afraid your friend killed Campbell?”

  Ken heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what to think. I just know how quickly I was considered a suspect when Marsha Carter was killed.”

  Toni’s mind was spinning. “How in the world did all that come about? Oh, never mind. That was a dumb question.” She made a dismissive wave with her hand.

  “I think that’s what Grant is asking himself.” Ken leaned forward on his elbows. “All I can tell you is the story he told me, which is probably not the version you’ll get anywhere else. When he and Jesse graduated from Smith Cotton High School in Sedalia, they went to MSU in Springfield and roomed together. After completing their undergraduate degrees—Grant in math and Jesse in physical education—they went different directions. Grant took a teaching position in Kansas City, and Jesse became an assistant coach at Glendale there in Springfield, where he had done his student teaching.

  “Glendale people must have been impressed with him.”

  “They were. Grant says everybody thought the guy was talented and headed for greatness as a coach. But it didn’t turn out that way.”