by S F Bose
Mac’s eyes slid to Sam. “Me? No,” he replied flatly. “But I couldn’t be happier he’s dead.”
“Kerry?” asked Sam.
“Good grief, no. I didn’t have anything to do with his death,” she replied.
“Do you both have alibis for yesterday and early today?” I pressed.
“We’re suspects now?” Mac snapped.
“I was with my parents and my other brother and sister. There were some friends who saw me too,” Kerry replied in a calmer voice.
I looked at Mac who stroked his beard with one hand. “I was with a girl. I’m sure she’ll vouch for me.” The three of us stared at him. “Now what? Exams are over and I went out to party.”
I picked up my pen and twirled it as I thought.
“Okay, the two of you need to go talk to Deputy Ron Newmont at the Mystic Grove police department. He’s running the investigation. I told Chief Durand that you thought Meagher might be doing something illegal. After trying to investigate that on your own, he scared you off. That’s when you hired us,” I said.
Mac bristled. “Why? What good will it do to talk to him?”
“They need to find out the truth about Meagher and how he died. If he was murdered, they have to find the killer. The police just want to talk to you to see if you have any information that will help them in the investigation,” I replied.
Mac glanced at Kerry. When she said, “We can do that,” Mac dropped his head.
“Mac?” Sam asked.
“We didn’t tell our parents about any of our problems with Meagher. If they call to confirm Kerry’s alibi, Dad and Mom will both hit the roof,” he replied.
Kerry’s face turned white. “He’s right.”
Sam stood up. “You have to ask yourselves what the right thing to do is. Meagher may have been a despicable man, but the important thing is finding out the truth. You both may be able to help the police discover what happened.”
Mac stared at the floor. “Our system is screwed up. I’ve seen too many stories of courts convicting people for crimes they didn’t commit. Those people rot in prison. Why can’t we just send the police an anonymous statement of what we know?” he asked, looking up hopefully.
“That would just make you look guilty. Mac, you want to get ahead of this and talk to Deputy Newmont in a cooperative way. You don’t want the police to take legal action to force us to share your names. If you didn’t have anything to do with Meagher’s death, you have nothing to worry about,” Sam replied.
“They can take legal action to get our names?” Mac asked.
“They can and if you don’t go see Newmont today or tomorrow, they will,” Sam replied.
“Mac, you’re overthinking this and worrying about nothing,” I said. “The police consider you witnesses, not suspects. You both have alibis.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll go talk to the police,” Mac replied and gave me an angry look.
With that out of the way, I handed Kerry a copy of our report and the itemized bill. Sam gave her an envelope that contained a refund check for a portion of her retainer. We walked them to the suite door and shook hands all around. Flip followed behind us and watched Kerry and Mac leave. When the door closed, Sam and I both exhaled.
“Ding dong the witch is dead?” I repeated, looking at Sam.
“I know. That worried me. What did you think about their overall reactions?”
I thought about that as we walked back to his office. “In my opinion, they were both honestly surprised. I don’t think either one of them killed Meagher. Mac does have an obnoxious attitude and anger management issues, though.”
Sam nodded. “I agree. They weren’t faking.”
“What do you think the odds are they go talk to Newmont?” I asked.
Sam stood by his desk, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’d give it fifty-fifty,” Sam replied. “Kerry is worried about their parents’ reaction and Mac is worried about something else. Between the two of them, they might talk themselves out of going to see Newmont. However, one way or another, Newmont will talk to them. At any rate, it’s not our problem and neither is the Meagher case,” he replied and winked.
In retrospect, those were famous last words.
Chapter 10
Friday night Sam and I arrived late at Enzo’s Ristorante for dinner with Ron Newmont and Joyce Tani. At the reception desk, Sam asked if Newmont had been seated. One of the hostesses checked and said that he had.
We followed her into the main dining room filled with wooden tables and happy diners. A large mural of coastal Palermo Italy with boats in the Tyrrhenian Sea covered the far wall. Around the perimeter of the large dining room, six stone arches led to smaller dining rooms.
I smiled when the hostess led us through one of the arches. All of Enzo’s dining rooms had wooden floors, wooden trim, beige, and green grapevine wallpaper, and indirect lighting. However, I thought the smaller dining rooms were cozier.
Newmont and Joyce were deep in conversation as we approached their table. I almost hated to interrupt them.
Ron Newmont was a tall man in his late thirties. He had short black hair, and a thick, black chevron mustache. Newmont hailed from Montana and descended from a long line of cowboys and ranchers. He spoke slowly with a deep voice that had a slight drawl. He favored long-sleeved shirts with pearl snaps, Wrangler jeans, and handmade black cowboy boots.
Joyce was a petite woman of Japanese heritage in her early thirties. She wore her black hair cut in a chin-length bob with bangs, which complemented her dark brown eyes. With her warm and outgoing personality, she was the perfect counterbalance to Newmont’s reserved nature.
When we reached the table, Joyce waved and Newmont stood to shake hands with Sam. Joyce and I hugged. We sat down and gave our drink order to Karen, the server. I noticed Newmont’s black felt cowboy hat with its silver band and decorative feather hanging on the back of his chair.
Joyce, Newmont, and I ordered wine and Sam opted for a mug of hot water with a lemon wedge on the side. Karen didn’t even blink. A true professional, I thought.
We scanned the menu and decided to order a large Supreme pizza. Although Sam was on a bagel and cream cheese kick lately, he liked pizza.
“Since when do you eat pizza?” Newmont asked.
“Since Liz complicated my life and corrupted me,” replied Sam. The three of them laughed.
“Hey!” I objected but joined in the laughter.
Karen returned with our drinks and two baskets of warm bread and butter. She took the food order and hurried off. Sam squeezed a lemon wedge into his water. Everyone clinked glasses and I sipped my wine, a smooth and fruity Merlot. Then we all shared the Italian bread and butter.
We chatted for a bit about a proposal for exterior security cameras that had just failed again in the village council. The council wanted Mystic Grove to remain rustic. Newmont disparaged the decision and spoke for minutes on the subject.
“Security cameras could help to prevent crime. They’d definitely help in solving crimes,” Joyce commented.
“I totally agree,” I replied, looking to my left at Joyce. She and I clinked our glasses again.
Then Sam said, “We learned about Steven Meagher’s death today. Is it okay to ask some questions? He was briefly the subject of one of our investigations.”
The Mystic Grove police department didn’t always get along with private investigators. However, Sam and Newmont had a special connection. Years ago, Sam and Newmont served together as county deputy sheriffs. During a domestic disturbance, a drunken man fired a handgun he had hidden under a couch cushion. Sam lunged between the man and Newmont. As a result, he took a bullet to the stomach. After shooting and killing the man, Newmont called for help and kept Sam going until paramedics arrived. That day they saved each other’s life. As a result, Sam and Newmont were as tight as brothers.
“Do you mind if we talk shop?” Newmont asked Joyce, who sat across the table from him.
“Go ahead, honey.
It’s fine,” she replied with a smile. He smiled back.
Newmont turned back to Sam on his right and said, “Sure thing, as long as this remains private.”
“You have my word,” Sam replied.
Newmont nodded and sipped his wine. “What do you want to know?”
“We heard you found Meagher dead at his cabin,” said Sam.
“We did. It’s a cabin in the middle of the woods near Petersburg. I drove out there with a Crawford County deputy sheriff.”
“What was the crime scene like?” Sam asked.
Newmont drank some of his wine. “Spooky. We arrived at the cabin late last night after sunset. I followed the deputy up a couple of dirt roads through the forest to a clearing where we parked. It was pitch-dark. There was so much cloud cover we didn’t even have moonlight, so we both used flashlights.”
“Meagher’s van was there?” Sam asked.
“It was parked in the clearing. The cabin was dark but we felt someone might be inside. So we approached slowly with our guns drawn. We swept the ground with our flashlights and found a bloody mop in the dirt in front of the cabin. As we neared the front porch, we both pointed our flashlights at the front door and found it partially open.”
“Any noises?” I asked.
“Nothing except for the wind in the trees. The deputy and I entered and swept the cabin with our flashlights. After a minute, I found the light switch and turned on the lights using my pen. I didn’t have gloves on at that point. There was smeared blood on the floor by the front entryway and into the living room. Someone had used the mop to try to wipe out any bloody footprints. However, we still saw some drag marks from the front of the cabin into the living room. The cabin was also trashed. We conducted a room by room search and, aside from Meagher, nobody was there.”
“Where’d you find the body?” I asked.
“We found him on his back on the floor in the living room. He was deceased and rigor had set in. It looked like someone hit him on his head near the front door and then dragged him into the living room. There was also dried blood on his face.”
“So it was a robbery?” I asked.
Newmont looked at me and shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied slowly. “Stuff was thrown all over to make it look like a robbery. However, Meagher had $2,300 in cash in his wallet, two guns, and two cell phones. The assailant didn't take any of those items. The electronics in the cabin were untouched. There also wasn’t any forced entry. The front door hadn’t been jimmied and all the windows were locked too.”
“So it was staged to look like a robbery,” Sam said.
“That’s what I think,” Newmont agreed.
“Could robbers have come to the door after Meagher was inside?” I asked.
“Most robbers want to avoid homeowners. If they saw his van parked in front, any smart robber would have avoided the cabin,” Sam replied.
“Maybe someone followed him to the cabin and Meagher let him in. It could also have been a planned meeting with someone he knew that turned violent,” I replied.
Newmont nodded slowly. “Those two scenarios have merit.”
“I’m intrigued by the two cell phones,” Sam said.
“We are too. The county sheriff in Madison is processing the paperwork for the call records. Unfortunately, both phones were password protected. However, they have a woman in Madison who does cell phone forensics. She’ll get into the phones,” Newmont replied with confidence.
Sam sipped some water. “Do you know the time of death yet?”
“The Medical Examiner sent a preliminary report out this afternoon. Meagher died between 1:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. Wednesday.”
“Right after lunch,” I commented.
Newmont nodded. “Yes it was and we found a lunch receipt from the Tipsy Cow in his pocket. They rang up his lunch bill at 12:13 p.m.” The Tipsy Cow was a restaurant and bar outside of Mystic Grove.
“Cause of death?” I asked.
“The preliminary report is death resulting from blunt force trauma,” Newmont replied and drank some more wine.
“Did anything seem off?” asked Sam.
“Yeah. Meagher carried an ankle gun, but it was in the holster backwards. His sidearm was in his holster correctly,” Newmont replied. “So the assailant may have disarmed Meagher, killed him, and then put his sidearm and ankle gun back after the fact.”
“Why not just shoot him?” asked Joyce and I nodded.
“Good question,” I said.
“It is a good question,” Newmont agreed and smiled at Joyce. “I wish I had a good answer.”
“Anything else about the crime scene?” Sam asked.
Newmont nodded. “Meagher wore a tee shirt and long-sleeved plaid shirt over his uniform pants. We also found a baseball hat near the body. The crime scene workers found his uniform shirt and tie in his van. Another thing we found was a gold shamrock earring not far from the body.”
“Did it belong to Larissa Meagher?” I asked.
Newmont shook his head. “I interviewed her today and she said it wasn’t hers.”
I sat back in my chair. “Interesting. So the earring might have belonged to an assailant.”
“Or Meagher might have met another woman at the cabin before the murder,” Sam added.
“Good point,” I agreed.
“Does Larissa have an alibi?” asked Sam.
“She said she and a girlfriend named Tina Malden went to Chicago for a spa day and to shop. They left early on Wednesday for Chicago. Mrs. Malden drove and they were back around early evening the same day. Unfortunately, Mrs. Malden left to go a spiritual retreat on the Isle of Wight today. No outside communications are allowed. I left her voicemail and will talk to her when she returns,” Newmont replied.
I sipped my wine. “Isle of Wight?”
“England,” Newmont replied.
“Was this a sudden trip or planned?” Sam asked.
“Planned. I spoke to her husband who remained in Madison. He said she scheduled the trip almost a year ago.”
“When’s she expected back?” I asked Newmont.
“Eight days.”
“Okay, shifting gears. Was there a life insurance policy?” I asked.
Newmont nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Meagher said she and her husband were each insured for one million dollars. She was his sole beneficiary.”
“How about a Will?” Sam asked.
Newmont frowned. “I forgot to ask about a Will. I’ll follow up with her about that.”
“Did Meagher have any security cameras set up at the cabin?”
Newmont laughed. “That would make it too easy. No, no cameras.”
“What was your overall impression of the crime scene?” Sam asked.
Newmont took a slow, deep breath. “It felt like... amateur hour. I think someone staged it to look like a robbery gone bad, but they screwed up on the details.”
“So you think the assailant planned the murder to look like an interrupted robbery?” Sam asked.
Newmont shrugged. “It’s a possibility. Or maybe Liz is right and Meagher met someone at the cabin. There was a spontaneous crime of passion and the assailant tried to make it look like a robbery after the fact.”
After a pause, I said, “Well, I know one thing, Newmont. You’re going to get the assailant, whoever he or she is.”
When Sam, Joyce, and I toasted Newmont, his face turned beet red.
Karen arrived with our pizza and placed it in on a round pedestal stand in the middle of the table. She also put a container of hot pepper flakes on the table. After checking on our drink status, she moved to another table.
I realized how hungry I was. For the next ten minutes, the four of us devoured slices of pizza.
“This is really delicious,” Sam said, reaching for a second slice.
“I still can’t believe you’re eating pizza,” Newmont replied and then winked at me.
“I’m actually a positive influence,” I commented. When Sam snorted, I gave
him a dirty look. Everyone laughed.
After the feeding frenzy, we sat back and sipped our drinks.
“What can you tell me about your Meagher investigation?” Newmont asked, looking from Sam to me.
“This is confidential too,” Sam said and Newmont nodded.
“Agreed,” he replied.
“It was a sister and brother,” I said. “The sister is a reporter for the Wisconsin Daily Messenger. She was doing a story on community policing and heard in some of her interviews that Meagher might be a dirty cop. This mostly came from some residents in Braden where he worked as a contract officer. However, a sheriff’s deputy she interviewed also warned her that Meagher was dangerous. She smelled a story but her editor rejected it. So she and her brother started researching and following Meagher.”
Newmont shook his head. “Amateurs.”
“I know, right?” I agreed. “Anyway, they found out that Meagher and his wife were proclaimers at the same Mass at St. Joe’s on Sundays. They went to the service three weeks in a row and saw Larissa Meagher flirting with the same guy each week. The brother got the man’s license plate number and it tracked back to a Dom Fontana. Turned out Larissa was the buyer’s agent when Fontana bought a country house in Black Earth a few years ago. So it’s possible Larissa might be fooling around on the side.”
“Larissa Meagher flirted with this guy in a church while her husband was there?” Newmont asked in disbelief.
I nodded. “She did and evidently, Meagher wasn’t happy about it.”
Newmont shook his head and took a small notebook and pen out of his back pocket. I repeated Dom’s name for him and he wrote it down.
I continued. “They also reported some intimidation. The brother and sister were renting a condo together in Mystic Grove. One day, someone slashed the tires of the sister’s car. They also got hang-up telephone calls at night and felt that someone was watching them. Finally, Meagher stopped the sister’s car on the highway. She was driving and her brother was in the passenger seat. Meagher made it clear he knew the sister had written the community policing article and had been asking questions about him. He’d also seen them at St. Joe’s. He warned them off with not-so-subtle threats. It got heated between Meagher and the brother and Meagher punched him. Then he let them go.”
