The Last Lies (Kate Murphy Mystery Book 1)

by C. C. Jameson

  Kate looked around the store, unsure how significant those numbers were. From where she stood, she could see at least thirty tanks meant for reptiles and other non-aquatic animals. There was an entire wall with dozens of aquariums. She couldn’t see where they kept the “normal” pets like cats and dogs.

  “Could the animals have escaped somehow?”

  “Well, when I opened the store the following morning, the tops of their tanks weren’t properly on. So yes, they could have escaped. But it was his responsibility to ensure their habitats remained closed and secure after he fed—”

  “But I—” Scott said.

  “Quiet, please. You’ll get your turn,” Kate told Scott before returning her attention to the owner.

  “I understand. Anything else?”

  “A few animals died,” the owner said.

  This nugget piqued Kate’s interest, so she stayed silent, hoping the owner would continue.

  “But those things happen sometimes. You know, I try to avoid puppy mills, and I do my best to find reliable breeders, but some of them are just in it for the money. The animals they produce are sick from the very beginning. And some of that is probably my fault. I bought a few dogs and birds from a new breeder even though my gut was telling me not to. I didn’t even go and visit the site. He brought the animals here. I was in a pinch, and I had customers ready to buy a few of them.”

  With animal deaths spreading like wildfire around town, Kate had to ask, “But are you sure that’s why they died?”

  “Yes. Pretty damn sure. I took a couple to a veterinarian friend. A dog and a parrot.”

  “And what did the vet say?”

  “With the business not doing so great lately, I didn’t ask for the full-blown tests, but I asked for his professional opinion. Once he heard where I’d gotten the animals from, he wasn’t surprised.”

  “And what’s that breeder’s name?” Kate asked, although it didn’t have anything to do with this particular call. Maybe she could relay that information to someone else who could go and investigate further.

  “Hold on. I think I still have their business card.”

  As Kate waited for the owner to find it, she returned her attention to the ex-employee.

  “So, Mr. Scott. Do you acknowledge that Mr. Tumlinson fired you last Monday?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Now, why do you keep coming back to the store if you no longer work here?”

  “He still hasn’t found anyone to care for the animals. Did you see the sign outside? I know nobody’s taken over my position. Nobody can take care of the animals like I do.”

  “But Mr. Tumlinson fired you. You have no right to take care of his animals now. You’re no longer getting paid.”

  “I know!” he yelled. “I’m not doing it for the money. I don’t want to get paid. I need these animals! They help me.”

  Now, this is heading somewhere unexpected.

  The owner handed Kate the business card, taking her out of her flow for a second.

  “Thanks. So, let me get this straight,” Kate glanced between the owner and the ex-employee. “You both agree that Mr. Scott here got fired last Monday.” The men nodded. “And although you’ve been fired,” Kate said, now addressing Scott, “you’ve kept coming in to work, but without any expectation to get paid?”

  Mr. Scott nodded. “Correct.”

  Kate turned to Tumlinson. “Is this an accurate description of the facts?”

  “Yes. Every day I tell him to go home. To find another job, but he won’t. I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I won’t pay him. I just want him to leave me and my store alone.”

  “Okay,” Kate said, exhaling as she closed her notepad. “Mr. Tumlinson, if you file a criminal trespass notice against Mr. Scott here, then he legally won’t be able to come near your business anymore. And if he does, you can call us, and we’ll arrest him.” Kate turned to the ex-employee. “Mr. Scott, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. Do you have any belongings here?”

  The ex-employee shook his head.

  “Okay. Any store keys?”

  Scott twitched, as though surprised by her question, but Tumlinson was the one to reply. “He gave them back to me last week.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Tumlinson.”

  Kate returned her attention to Scott. Since he looked familiar, even though his name didn’t ring a bell, she picked up her shoulder radio. Perhaps she’d seen his mug weeks ago during a morning brief. She’d never forgive herself if she let a wanted felon go free.

  “Harry-145, requesting a check on Scott, Frank. D.O.B. 1984-04-25.”

  She kept an eye on Scott while waiting for the dispatcher to report back. His traits were relaxed, no fear in his eyes. Probably nothing to hide.

  “Operations to Harry-145. I have a Scott, Frank,” the dispatcher started. “Driver’s license shows address at 194 Hamilton Street. Six-feet one, blue eyes.”

  “Correct,” Kate said. “Any warrant or police involvement?”

  “That’s a negative, Harry-145.”

  “Harry-145 acknowledged,” Kate said in her shoulder radio before tucking her notepad back in her breast pocket. “Looks like we’re all done here then. You have a great day, Mr. Tumlinson.”

  Turning her attention to Mr. Scott, she continued, “Please come around the counter, and I’ll escort you out.”

  He obeyed, and they both walked away from Tumlinson. As Kate pushed open the door, she noticed the shoelace of his work boot dangling as he stepped out.

  “You may want to take care of that,” she said, nodding toward his black boot. “And, if I may, I recommend you volunteer at an animal shelter if you need to spend time with animals and are willing to do it for free.”

  “Ah… What a great idea,” Scott said, a wide grin decorating his face.

  After filing the reports for today’s incidents, Kate headed home, but not before stopping by a mall on her way. Two weeks to go before her wedding anniversary, so she had to get Matt something.

  About five minutes after stepping into the large department store, she found a gift she knew Matt would love, but she hesitated before pulling her emergency credit card out of her wallet.

  “How will you be paying for those beautiful cufflinks?” asked the brunette with doe eyes who stood behind the counter.

  “Visa,” Kate replied, handing her the card and trying to ignore the interests she knew would pile up since she wouldn’t be able to pay it off for a few months. “The sign says you offer free gift-wrapping services?”

  The woman nodded. “Would you like it gift wrapped?”

  “Yes, please,” Kate said, swallowing hard. It was as though a giant’s hand was squishing her chest, turning her heart to goo. Stupid societal rules.

  The cashier handed back the credit card, which Kate returned to her wallet.

  Why am I struggling with the idea of buying an anniversary present for my husband this year?

  Half of her just wanted to do free things for him: serve him breakfast in bed, make a montage of pictures from happier times, or cook him something special to celebrate. But the other half knew Matt’s stubborn stand on birthdays and holidays.

  To Kate, being ignored and having birthdays go unnoticed year after year while in foster care seemed like valid reasons to want more attention instead of money, but it seemed Matt had grown up to believe the opposite was true. To him, the price tag was more important than the thought.

  Who was she to judge her husband for the coping mechanisms he’d developed after his tough childhood? If many lonely Christmases and birthdays had made him crave expensive presents instead of the care and attention that she herself had come to value more than anything, then so it be.

  What kind of wife—and future mother of his child—would she be for not spoiling him on their wedding anniversary?

  But Kate suddenly pinpointed the real source of her mental struggle.

  That Sam woman. Why can’t I shake the idea that she’s more than a business
prospect?

  “Here you go, ma’am,” the cashier said, handing Kate a beautiful ash-colored bag filled with yellow crêpe paper.

  When Kate stepped out of the store a few seconds later, her mind was made up.

  She had to prove her gut wrong. No way she’d give a cheating husband a fancy anniversary gift she couldn’t afford.

  Heck, returning it would just be the tip of the iceberg. All hell would break lose if Sam turned out to be his mistress.

  Kate’s life would be turned upside down. Her decision to keep the baby or not...

  She had to find out the truth about Sam, and fast.

  Chapter Seven

  After issuing a warning to a speeder on Adams Street, Kate returned to her vehicle. She checked the clock on her dashboard: 3:40 p.m.

  Without any urgent call to respond to, she decided to stop by her house to see if she could find incriminating evidence about Matt’s potential affair while he was still at work. She hadn’t had a chance to do it the previous evening because Kenny had needed her to run errands with him. And by the time she made it back home—after a few card games to cheer Kenny up—she was plain exhausted, and Matt was dead asleep.

  But now was a different story. She was in work mode, her senses sharp, and her desire to uncover the truth unstoppable.

  Maybe he’d stashed some photos of large-breasted Sam somewhere. Maybe he’d kept a pair of her undies…

  Better not. I don’t know how I’d react if I found those in our home.

  If Matt had been having an affair, knowing about it for certain could ease her mind. Maybe. It would most definitely destroy their marriage. It would further complicate the situation with the baby she was carrying. But what would become of her self-esteem?

  That was a separate issue.

  The psychiatrist she’d seen for years had done a pretty good job at convincing her that she wasn’t to blame for people disappearing from her life, but having a husband cheating on her was much, much harder to dissociate from her personal history.

  She parked her patrol car a block from her apartment. While she technically could have parked in one of the tow-away zones closer without any trouble, she didn’t want to push it. She was already abusing her privileges by stopping by her house in the middle of a shift.

  After walking up the stairs to her floor, Kate unlocked the door and let herself in.

  She tried to look at her apartment with new eyes.

  The place still reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Although they themselves didn’t smoke, they’d never gotten rid of the previous tenant’s odor. Even after a few bottles of Febreze, the smell lingered as though there were a secret source she couldn’t root out.

  She went through the pockets of Matt’s jacket, which hung by the door, and found nothing but a pair of gloves, a used tissue, and a spare set of keys.

  In the living room, her books were neatly arranged on the end of a shelf, occupying very little space compared to Matt’s video game and DVD collection.

  That’s another place where we could trim the fat. Maybe try to sell some on eBay or something.

  Matt’s precious couch looked too big for the room and the small side table where the remote and her husband’s game controller rested. On the opposite wall hung Matt’s flat screen TV next to their wedding picture. How clueless she’d been on that day. Kate could hardly believe how happy she seemed. If she’d known then what she did now about how their relationship would go, she wouldn’t have smiled so much.

  Physically, Matt hadn’t changed a bit since that day. He was still handsome. Kate always thought he looked a little like a young Patrick Dempsey.

  But enough reminiscing. Matt could arrive home at any time, so she only had a few more minutes to find something.

  Kate headed to the bathroom and went through the two drawers and vanity cupboards. Nothing of note. There was an old box of condoms, and after checking the box and realizing they were more than a year past their expiration date, she tossed them in the garbage. She and Matt had stopped using them shortly after she’d gotten on the pill. That was quite a while back. At least he hadn’t used them with someone else…

  Kate entered their bedroom. Matt got half of the closet and the top half of the drawers in their tall dresser. She opened the top drawer, where he kept his underwear and socks. Since Kate was too short to see the drawer’s contents from above (she normally tossed whatever underwear she’d washed and dried in the drawer without looking), she decided to pull out the entire drawer and set it down on the bed. Almost immediately she noticed the fake back.

  What? With her husband’s limited woodworking skills?

  Surprising.

  But there weren’t any incriminating pictures or ladies’ panties in there. The hidden compartment was empty except for a few sheets of paper and two plastic bags that were rolled up and wrapped with rubber bands. Although the plastic was see-through, there were so many layers of it rolled together that Kate couldn’t make out the contents.

  What is it? Weed?

  She removed the elastic from the first mystery package and unrolled it to find a few smaller plastic bags, which she dumped on the faded comforter. Each of them contained tiny pastel-colored pills…

  A split second later, she opened the second bag: a disassembled pill dispenser and glue.

  “Fucking dick!” Kate said aloud.

  She didn’t have the money to have them analyzed, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious what was going on here.

  What kind of a husband does that?

  Aren’t these things supposed to be tamper-proof?

  She had a look at the pieces of paper he’d hidden. Nothing other than tampering instructions written by an amoral eBay seller.

  “Argh!” she yelled as she crumbled to her knees next to the bed.

  Her radio screeched for her attention, requesting support from all available units for a robbery in progress.

  Although her blood boiled, she unclenched her fists. With her fingers shaking, she carefully repackaged his lies and returned the drawer and its dark secrets to their rightful spot.

  Back in her car, with the lights flashing, Kate sped to the address provided by the dispatcher while the siren overhead drowned out her angry cries.

  She arrived at the scene just as the sergeant ordered support units to stand down. The situation was under control and the suspect had been apprehended, so help was no longer needed. Kate figured she’d have a look since she was already there. She parked diagonally next to another patrol car and stepped out of her vehicle just as a handcuffed man escorted by three of her colleagues walked out of a jewelry shop. The dark-haired man in cuffs towered over the officers next to him.

  For a second, she thought it was her husband. The man was about six-feet tall, dark, and handsome, just like Matt, but he was wearing scrubs. She squinted for a better look at his face, but it was pointless. He was too far.

  What went down here? Did the man try to steal an engagement ring for his fiancée? Is this what real love makes poor people like me do?

  The law-abiding side of Kate took over and shut down her romantic daydreaming. She approached the officer in charge of the scene to see if there was anything she could help with but was turned down.

  Kate went back to her vehicle as her thoughts returned to Matt’s unscrupulous behavior.

  How could he even do that?

  But now was not the time to let her anger loose. She had to focus on work and forget about what she’d just discovered.

  The dashboard clock indicated that the race she’d been assigned to help with was nearing its start.

  As hateful thoughts bounced in her head, she realized there was no word to describe how low Matt had stooped. With his manipulative actions, he’d destroyed every single ounce of trust she had in him.

  With her heart stinging in her chest, Kate restarted her car, turned off her patrol lights, and rejoined the traffic, slowly driving past the crowd of casual onlookers that had accumulated nearby. When s
he finally cleared the group, she sped up and headed toward the meet-up point to be briefed.

  At least the race would give her time to digest her discovery about Matt’s devious plan.

  After attending the pre-race meeting, Kate proceeded to the intersection she’d been assigned to block and monitor for the duration of the charitable event.

  During the first thirty minutes, as the sun set over Boston, she cheered while watching people of various fitness levels run by her with their four-legged companions. Some runners had taken their kids along. Some had flashlights strapped to their heads; some relied on just the streetlights. At least this part of town had all of them in working conditions.

  Shit.

  She made another mental note to report those burnt out near her apartment. But screams emanating from the nearby park interrupted her thoughts.

  A man spoke over the walkie-talkie, “A dog just fell between checkpoints five and six. He’s not bleeding, just shaking and convulsing. Requesting a vet.”

  Odd. That was probably what those screams were about.

  Checkpoint five was just a few hundred feet away.

  The walkie-talkie screeched again, this time with a female voice saying, “A dog just fell near checkpoint twenty. Do we have another vet available?”

  Dogs don’t normally keel over like that, right?

  How can two unlikely incidents occur so close to each other?

  Then something clicked: the animal killer.

  And just as the idea occurred to her, she spotted a little toy poodle coming her way in front of its owner. The dog’s strides were erratic, then it tripped, collapsed, and began convulsing.

  She was about to report it to the race coordinators, but then got on her police radio instead. “This is Harry-145, acting as safety officer for the Happy Doggy Race in Ronan Park. At least three dogs have collapsed in the span of a minute. The area is packed with runners and their dogs. I’m not sure what is happening. I’ll report again when I find out more.”

  Kate broadcast the nearby collapsed dog on the walkie-talkie, then left her intersection. She would be a lot more useful at the scene.