by Leslie Leigh
I spied Jimmy sitting at a desk in the back office. He looked up at the sound of the buzzer, and seeing it was who it was, flashed that same expression of uncertainty I’d seen yesterday. Clearly, I would need to gain his trust.
“Hi, Jimmy. Do you have a moment?” I said, making my way toward one of the two chairs facing his desk.
“Hello, Miss Reed. Pardon me for not getting up. I am so dog-tired!” Jimmy was holding a large, plastic bag with a strange-looking arrow inside it. “I hardly got any sleep last night. I was at the hospital most of the night. Came back here to catch a couple of winks on a cot in one of the cells, and then back up before the sun rose, the phone ringing off the hook. What a mess!”
“I can’t imagine,” I replied. “Don’t you have any help?”
“Well, there’s Fred, our part-timer, but his arthritis has been flaring up, so he’s going to the doctor today. And Margaret covers the phones before and after she works for you at the library. Other than that, it’s just me.”
I glanced down at the baggie. “Is that…?”
Jimmy followed my gaze, and looked surprised that he was still holding the bag. “Oh…yes. The hospital removed it from the victim. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to pull it out or what, but I just didn’t think it was a good idea. Jack Casady, from the DNR, agreed. He’s seen more hunting accidents than I have, and he said it’s best if the medical people extract it.”
“Jack Casady,” I repeated. I find that saying the name immediately after I first hear it helps me to remember it. “So he was at the scene with you last night?” I asked.
“Yeah, Central Dispatch contacted his office, along with the EMTs.”
Somehow I felt relieved that Deputy Jimmy wasn’t the only person on-site last night. I wanted to learn more about the particulars, but first I needed to clear up my personal concerns.
“Jimmy, I know you may not be able to say much right now, and I certainly don’t want to pry, but I was concerned that the victim might have been someone I know.”
“I know, Miss Reed. There’s a lot of people in the same boat – and a lot of ‘em called first thing this morning – but we’ve gotta wait till all the t’s are crossed before we can make a statement, like I just told that reporter.”
“I understand. Perhaps you can tell me who it wasn’t, then,” I suggested. “You see, Cathy Spencer mentioned that she was going hunting with her daughter, Molly, and I was afraid it might be one of them.”
“They were both there – at the site, I mean – but no, it wasn’t either of them.”
“I’m so relieved. And then Chrissie Appleton was also supposed to be hunting yesterday.”
“I know Chrissie, but she wasn’t there,” Jimmy said. “And no, it wasn’t her, either. Does that help?”
“Extremely,” I sighed. “Thank you so much, Jimmy.” I followed his gaze toward the arrow in the baggie. It was a nasty, lethal looking thing, smaller than a normal arrow. The sharp tip was dark with dried blood and metal blades protruded from the base of the tip. “So how exactly did it happen, the accident?” I asked, trying to keep my tone conversational. “Or can’t you say?”
“There’s not that much to tell,” Jimmy replied, “or at least, not much that I can tell you at this point. A group of people were allowed to use their employer’s land and facilities to turkey hunt. They’ve got some little cabins out there, and it’s private property, so they don’t have to worry about other hunters. But then, someone got shot with this here arrow.” He patted the baggie.
“Actually, it’s called a bolt,” he said, correcting himself, “or so I’m told. It’s used in crossbows.” I couldn’t help wincing at the thought of a high-powered arrow piercing someone’s flesh. “And this here is what they call a broadhead tip. Those blades open up inside the wound. I don’t hunt, but Jack Casady kinda schooled me on it last night.”
Again, I shuddered, imagining the pain such a device must inflict on an animal, let alone a human one. Knowing that both Cat and Justin worked for Cooke Paper Products, I asked the obvious question, for the sake of confirmation. “So the accident happened on Nathan Cooke’s property, then?”
“That’s right,” Jimmy whispered, leaning in closer. “And that’s another reason why I need to keep this low profile. I mean, Nathan Cooke! It’s bad enough that it happened at all, but….”
“You don’t want to cast any aspersions on him,” I suggested.
“Right. You know how those reporters can be. If you can add some scandal or sizzle to a news story….”
“You’ll double your ratings?” I finished. “Or clicks or copies sold.”
“Exactly!” Jimmy seemed grateful that someone could appreciate his low-key approach to the investigation. As long as our rapport was flowing, I continued to probe, careful not to sound as if I were interrogating.
“So how did you say the accident happened, exactly?” I asked.
“An arrow…straight through the heart,” Jimmy shot back, punching his fist against his chest to demonstrate. “A bolt, I mean.”
“Yes, I understand that the bolt is what killed her, but how did the accident happen? Who did it?”
Jimmy looked down at the table and fidgeted with the baggie. “Well, we’re still trying to figure that out. At this point, we don’t know who it was that shot her.”
I stared in silence, waiting for him to clarify, but he didn’t. I could tell that we were close to leaving Jimmy’s comfort zone, so I tried to be delicate.
“So nobody admitted to accidentally shooting her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s right, Miss Reed. Nobody seemed to know what happened. At least, that’s what they all said. Cat’s the one who found her lying outside her cabin, just before sunset. There were five other people there: Cat and her friend, Justin; Molly; Bob Christian, he’s the personnel manager in Crawford; and one of the factory workers from Houghton, Max Colopy. None of them saw or heard anything before Cat found the body.”
“I see. Then why are you referring to it as an accident, Jimmy?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, you’ve got a dead girl, and obviously somebody shot her dead, but no one will admit it. That sounds more like a crime than an accident.”
“Now, Miss Reed, I know you had your suspicions about Jake Miller’s death, and they turned out to be true, but in this case, I think it’s just a matter of someone being afraid to admit that they made a mistake. It was late, it was dark, and they probably didn’t want to say anything in front of the others. I expect that, any time now, one of them will come forward.
“I mean, how could you live with yourself if you accidentally killed someone? If I dented a fender in a parking lot, I’d have to let that person know and make things right. I think most people are like that, don’t you?”
My jaw may have dropped open by this point, but I tried to absorb this information in stride.
“And has anyone contacted you yet?” I asked.
That hangdog look appeared again. “No,” he mumbled, like a little boy admitting to a behavioral shortcoming. “Not yet, anyway, but it may take a little time. It must be really tough, having something like that on your conscience.”
The silence weighed heavily. Finally, Jimmy looked up my way, squinting, as if staring into the sun. “Do you think I messed up, Miss Reed?”
I took a deep breath.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Jimmy.” I spoke in a calm, measured tone. “I think that you’re a lot like me. We both think that people are basically good and that they’ll step up and do the right thing when they screw up. And, like me, you’ve probably been disappointed many times when things don’t work out as we’d wish.”
Jimmy nodded, still looking down at the table with a cowed expression.
“But we have to focus on the facts. Fact one is that there is a dead girl lying over at the hospital. Fact two is that someone shot that girl with a crossbow. Fact three, one of tho
se people with her is responsible for her death. And fact four is that by not coming forward to take responsibility, that person – at the very least – is guilty of obstructing an investigation, which is a crime.”
Jimmy looked up, nodding in agreement.
“And you are the person responsible for making sure that we have all the answers to what happened out there. You can’t wait for the answers to come to you. You can only stall the reporters for so long. This is going to heat up very quickly, and you don’t want it to boil over while you’re trying to keep a lid on things.
“But, more importantly, you have to have some answers for that poor girl’s family.” Jimmy’s head bobbed even more vigorously. “Were you able to contact them?”
“We’re still trying to find a contact number for them,” he said.
“We?” I echoed. I’d noticed that Jimmy seemed to slip behind the editorial ‘we’ whenever he mentioned something to do with the investigation.
“Cat and I,” he replied. “Cat knew her, and she’s looking to see if she can find some number for her family.”
“The victim didn’t have a cell phone?” I asked.
“None that we could find last night,” Jimmy said.
I found this to be hard to imagine. A woman without a cell phone. I had a hunch.
“Did Cat provide you with most of the information needed for the paperwork? Name, address, age?”
“Yes, she did,” Jimmy nodded. “She was very helpful.”
“By any chance, did Cat say that the victim was 26 years old?”
“That’s exactly what she said!” Jimmy exclaimed, wide-eyed. “How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess,” I replied. Could the victim be Alexandra, the girl in the escort ad? If so, it would was impossible for her to be without a phone. “Did you find a laptop, or any other kind of device?”
“Uh, uh,” he said. “Nothing like that, just some clothes and toiletries…and a few personal items.” Jimmy blushed at the mention of the last items.
What could be more personal than toiletry items? “Prophylactics?” I ventured.
“How did you know that?” Jimmy sputtered.
“Jimmy, can I tell you a story? When I first began working as a librarian, I really didn’t know what I was doing. Sure, I’d been to school, but for my first job, they stuck me in the bookmobile, and there I was, shuttling around the worst parts of Detroit. It wasn’t anything at all like I’d imagined it would be.
“But I got through it with the help of my more experienced coworkers. Sure, they called me rookie and laughed at how nervous I was and how flustered I’d get, but they always helped me when I needed help. And I became a better librarian as a result.”
“Uh huh?” Jimmy apparently hoped there was more to the story, perhaps a romantic interlude or a big finale.
“Well, I don’t know how many murder investigations you’ve been involved in, Jimmy….”
“Just the one, Jacob Miller, but we didn’t know it was a murder at the time,” he responded. His pupils darted back and forth, processing my last sentence. “So you think this might be a murder, Miss Reed?”
“Well, let’s call it a suspicious death, then. Someone’s been killed by someone, and that person is hiding the truth. That sounds suspicious, doesn’t it?”
“I see what you’re saying,” Jimmy said, his expression turning more serious. “You think that I should get some help with this investigation, don’t you?” He stared off toward the ceiling, thinking. You’re probably right, Miss Reed. Say, do you think your brother, the State Trooper, might help?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sure he would, Jimmy! And he’s been doing this for a while, so you could learn a thing or two, I’ll bet. Chances are, since this happened within his district, he’d be in touch soon anyway, but instead of waiting for him to come to you….”
“I’ll call him!” Jimmy exclaimed. “Miss Reed, I really appreciate having this talk with you. I sure feel a whole lot better now.”
“Me, too,” I smiled, standing. “And please call me Melody. Would you like Michel’s number?” Jimmy nodded. I took out one of Michael’s business cards and handed it to him. “Keep it…handy.”
“Thanks, Melody. Oh, and please….”
“I won’t say a word to anyone, Jimmy. After all, loose lips sink ships.”
Jimmy’s expression resembled my cat Mao’s when I try serenading her with my accordion. I held a finger to my lips and Jimmy smiled, reassured.
I looked at my watch. Still plenty of time to catch some lunch. I still had an unfulfilled craving for pastries from yesterday, but I still had five Snack Shack treats in the library fridge. But I didn’t have any ice cream! Time to see if Freeman’s Frozen Treats had opened yet. Not the healthiest choice, but I felt that I’d earned a little reward after my productive meeting with Deputy Jimmy. I wondered if Mr. Freeman had something peanut buttery for me. I’d just have to tell him to ‘hold’ the politics this time.
Chapter 10
I managed to walk back to the library with two ice cream cones before they’d melted, maneuvered through the entrance door and held one out to Margaret.
“Oh, I couldn’t!” she said.
“Of course, you could. Take it!” She relented, and seemed to enjoy the chocolate-peanut butter treat as much as I did. I’d have to be good to Margaret, now that I’d learned about her other part-time job at the police station, she had become even more of an asset to me. Plus, she was just such a nice lady.
“Any calls, emergencies, or irate customers?” I asked between licks.
“Your brother called just before you came in,” she replied.
“Michael?”
“I-I didn’t ask which brother,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
“That’s okay; I’ve only got the one,” I smiled. I took out my phone and speed-dialed him as I headed for the break room.
“Detective Reed,” a scarily professional voice answered. “Oh, it’s you,” Michael said, settling into a more relaxed, almost human tone. “Hey, I just spoke with your acting police chief. I thought everything was under control now that Benson had been given the boot.”
“I just thought Jimmy might need an assist on this case, Michael,” I explained. “You know – a little professional courtesy?”
‘Professional care, is more like it,” he cracked.
“Now, you be nice to him,” I protested. “He’s in way over his head and he’s gotten off to a rough start on this investigation.”
“A hunting accident? How difficult can that be?”
I explained some of the pertinent details that Jimmy had shared. When I’d finished, there was a thumping sort of noise on the other end. “What’s that?” I asked.
“That’s me banging my head with the receiver,” he replied dryly. “Okay. The report had come across my desk already, and I was planning on swinging by to check it out. I’ll be down there in half an hour. Are you going to be around tonight? Tell Mom I’m inviting myself to dinner. Bye.”
***
Mom cleared the table as Michael and I prepared to discuss the case. Mom had made a yummy, Greek-styled roasted chicken with a rich Tzatziki sauce. If Michael hadn’t crashed our dinner, there might have been leftovers, but I was looking forward to hearing about his meeting with Jimmy.
“Well, at least these killings bring you around to visit more often,” Mom groused. “Two in less than a month! I don’t know what’s happening to our little town. Ever since Melody arrived….”
“Hey!” I started to protest, but Michael interrupted.
“I was thinking the same thing,” he said, straight-faced. “She must have brought something with her from Dee-troit, like a virus.”
“You can go ahead and talk about it now that dinner’s over,” Mom advised. “Don’t worry about me overhearing anything. I can take all the grizzly details.”
Michael waited until she entered the kitchen. “Well, your Deputy Jimmy seems like a
nice enough fellow. And I’m sure that in a few years, possibly decades, he could develop a competent level of proficiency. Do you know the extent of his law enforcement background?”
“Not really,” I said, “but don’t go knocking him in front of me. He’s trying, and I don’t want to get into any Jimmy-bashing. It’ll make me feel hypocritical when I interact with him.”
“After taking three years to graduate from a two-year law enforcement program at a junior college….”
“So he didn’t graduate from the State Police Academy or Quantico,” I countered. “That doesn’t mean he can’t be a good cop!”
“He hired on as a prison guard down in Standish,” Michael continued. “He told me he really had to watch his back there. It’s a maximum security facility, so I don’t blame him, but guys like that sometimes feel that they’re on the defensive, that the bad guys are chasing them rather than the other way around.”
“I’d much rather hear about the investigation,” I sniffed.
“Okay. So we’ve got five people at the crime scene. That’s how I’m referring to it, anyway. Jimmy did get the names and contact into from them. I asked if he’d seen IDs, to be sure they weren’t phony names, but it turns out that one of the five, this…Bob Christian,” he said, referring to his notepad, “is the personnel manager at Cooke, so he was familiar with everybody there.
“So I’ve invited Deputy Jimmy to conduct interviews with me tomorrow. One of the five is a child, two work at the office in Crawford, and two work at the mill in Houghton. Oh, and I called Mr. Christian and got the name and next-of-kin info for the deceased. Apparently, Jimmy didn’t put two and two together and realize that everybody on the property was a Cooke employee.”
“Well, Mr. Christian could have offered that information,” I said in Jimmy’s defense.
“Yeah, I suppose, but most people respond to what the person-in-charge asks of them. They’re not thinking like a cop, or how a cop is supposed to think, anyway. Mr. Christian did, however, have the presence of mind to cancel some other employee reservations at the site, keeping our crime scene intact. They’ve assigned a Cooke security detail to guard the entrance to the property.”
