by Kay Jennings
* * *
Jack Bushnell was still sleeping on this eerily quiet Sunday morning. He always could sleep with the best of them.
Marjorie Bushnell knew she should get up and start the coffee. But she laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what was wrong. She’d woken up with a bad feeling, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Oh, yes. Emily was dead.
* * *
The mayor had been up since dawn. Coming downstairs to the living room, he was relieved to see that that irritating blowhard Pastor John and his silly wife were gone. They had insisted on staying until the entire family had gone to bed last night and were resting. I’m an atheist, you idiot, Fred felt like saying to them. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Their kind never had a clue.
Fred couldn’t bring himself to go for his usual morning constitutional down on the beach. He didn’t really want to see the tunnel where his daughter’s body had been found, and it was high tide this morning anyway.
Instead, Fred Bushnell made the coffee, and then turned on his computer to see if there was any word yet on Emily’s death. A story like this one would ignite everyone in his town, and he needed some time this morning to decide how he would handle it.
He went first to the Buck Bay News’ website. Nothing. What a relief. He had asked Bernice Ryder when they went to view the body in the morgue last night to not say anything yet. Bernice had looked at him strangely, but nodded her agreement.
It was weird to see his usually livewire daughter laying there still and pale. He recalled that both he and Marjorie had been curiously detached, almost as if they were looking at the body of someone else’s child, someone they knew only vaguely.
When Bernice asked them both “Is this your daughter, Emily Bushnell?” Marjorie had piped up first and said ‘Yes’. Fred had felt offended at Marjorie’s haste, feeling that it should be up to the man of the house to respond to a question like that. Yes, he was definitely put out by being upstaged.
He would have to talk to Marjorie about that.
Chapter 16
Sunday, 9:30 a.m.
The three cops and Fern headed for the City Hall parking lot. On this partly sunny, cool morning not much was stirring in Port Stirling. There was a calmness in the air, but plenty of tension in the group.
“Fern, you ride with me,” Matt said, heading for his squad car. “Jay, go with Ed in his OSP car. We don’t want to overrun the Bushnell property with vehicles. We’ll follow you, Ed.”
“What if everyone tells the same stories again?” asked Fern, as she buckled up.
“If mom and dad tell the same story again, we’ll have a tough time disproving it.”
“Because it’s impossible to verify?”
“Right. It will be easier for Ed to nail down the kids’ alibis. We’ll know by this afternoon if Gary, Susan, and Jack were where they said they were. That’s why I want you to focus on Marjorie this morning.”
“It’s hard to imagine kids doing something like this,” Fern said quietly. “I understand that it happens, but it’s so hard to picture in this case.”
“Would it help you get your head around the possibility if I tell you that I’ve seen teenage violence on a personal level? Because I have. It happens.”
“What happened to you?”
“I’d rather not go into the gory details right now, if you don’t mind,” Matt said. “Just know that drugs, mental illness, depression, and a raft of other problems can sweep up kids these days just as easily as adults.”
“Did this happen in a case in Texas that caused you to seek a fresh start? Is that why you’re here?” Fern persisted.
“This conversation needs to happen later, not now,” Matt said, his voice steely, but polite. “We need to focus. I will tell you to not overlook Susan because she’s a girl.”
“I won’t overlook anyone in that house.” Fern paused. “You know, Chief, trust is a powerful thing. If we’re going to work together on this case, I need to trust you and you need to trust me. If whatever happened to you in Texas is coloring your view of Emily’s death, I want to know.”
“It’s not, and I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s just not the right time to be telling you a sad story. If anything, my recent experience has broadened my viewpoint. I won’t be assuming anyone is innocent; they’ll all have to prove it to me.”
Fern looked sideways at Matt, who was staring straight ahead at the road. She saw his jaw clench. “That sounds good.” She made a conscious decision to leave it there, but she could tell that Matt was struggling with his past. Whatever secret he carried with him to Port Stirling would eventually come out, but Fern could only go by how Matt had handled the investigation so far. And, internal demons or no, Matt instilled confidence in the team. Their new police chief knew what he was doing, and Fern had every belief that their killer was up against a serious adversary.
Fern would leave Matt’s story alone—for now—but if his past started interfering with the present situation, she would act.
* * *
Before they knocked on the door, Matt said to Ed and Jay, “Let’s take a look at Emily’s bedroom window from the outside.” The three cops walked around to the end of the house, where Emily’s bedroom window faced north.
“There’s no sign of forced entry,” Ed noted. “Nothing broken—window or lock.”
Matt ran his hand along the window casing and the siding below it. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He looked down and gently stroked a fern directly below the window. “A couple of fronds broken.” He lifted up the fern’s branches, and said, “No real footprints, just mud.” Matt’s own shoes were now covered in mud. “Why wouldn’t the lock be broken?”
“It’s a small town,” said Jay. “We don’t always lock our doors and windows.
“Or,” said Matt, “it was an inside job, not an outside job,” he said. “I think the window was opened from the inside.”
The mayor answered the door. Not surprisingly, he looked even more haggard than he had yesterday. But he was neatly dressed in black slacks and a black V-neck sweater worn over a white dress shirt.
“Please come in, all of you,” Fred said, opening the door wide. “Is there any progress on your investigation, Chief?” he asked.
“It’s continuing, Mr. Mayor,” Matt said. “As part of it,” he said, handing the signed search warrant to Fred, “a team composed of men from my police department is here with us to conduct a search of the premises.” The Port Stirling P.D. officers stood just outside the front door, waiting for the go-ahead from their chief.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked a clearly astonished Fred, and he stood his ground in front of the officers. He essentially blocked their entrance, and the Port Stirling P.D. stood still, not eager to take on their mayor.
“The affidavit was prepared by District Attorney David
Dalrymple, and signed by Judge Cynthia Hedges,” Matt replied. “It gives me authorization to administer a thorough search of the house and grounds, and to seize any evidence that might pertain to the homicide of your daughter.”
“Give me that!” Marjorie yelled, coming up behind Fred and snatching it out of his hand. Like her husband, Marjorie looked tired, too, but had made an effort with her appearance. She was wearing a black tweed skirt with a stone-colored jewel-neck sweater and black kitten heels. Her hair was carefully brushed and held back with a black velvet headband that looked a little too young for her, and a little too saucy for the occasion. She wore small gold earrings. Her lipstick looked too bright for her pale skin.
“You have no right to do this, Mister Horning,” she snarled, drawing out the “Mister” in mocking fashion. Her hand trembled and the warrant shook.
“I do have the right, Mrs. Bushnell. I’m sorry to put you and your family through this, but my men are going to perform thi
s search, starting right now. Officers, come in,” Matt ordered them, using his right arm to create a barrier between them and the Bushnells.
Fred grabbed the warrant back from his wife and skimmed it quickly. His shoulders slumped, and he handed it back to Matt, resigning himself.
“Do what you have to do, but I need answers to some questions.”
“Fair enough, Fred. But first, here’s how this is going to work this morning. You and Jack are going into the kitchen to talk with me. Marjorie and Susan, you will go with Jay and Fern into the dining room, and Ed will take Gary into the living room for further questioning. Your rights were read to you yesterday, and still apply today unless you object and want to call a lawyer.”
“We don’t need a lawyer,” said Fred. Marjorie was silent.
“OK, then the officers will start their search. Jack,” Matt said, “please come with your dad and me into the kitchen.” The three siblings had gathered behind their parents. Everyone quietly moved to their appointed areas, and the PSPD officers started off down the hallway.
“Who is involved in Emily’s investigation, Horning?” asked Fred. “I’m her father, I have a right to know.”
“We’ve called in the Chinook County major crime team, and I believe you know most of them. In addition to Ed representing the Oregon State Police, and Jay on the Port Stirling side, we’re being helped out by the DA and Fern from the county, Patty Perkins representing the Twisty River P.D., the county sheriff, Earl Johnson. The Buck Bay P.D. are marshalling their force to provide me with more investigative help. Oh, and Dr. Bernice Ryder in her role as the county’s Medical Examiner. The team met yesterday, and all will have an active role in helping me bring your daughter’s killer to justice. And, they all wanted me to express their condolences to you and your family. Everyone is so sorry.”
“We’re a close-knit town,” said Fred sadly, putting his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “This is a shock to everyone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who’s checking to see if there are any strangers in town? Nobody we know would want to hurt my little girl.”
“My department is running checks on license plates and local hotels and motels, and the Buck Bay officers are scoping out the rest of the county with Sheriff Johnson’s deputies.”
“It must have been some pervert staying at Port Stirling Links,” Fred said, his voice shaking with anger.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because they fly in here with their millions in the bank, and don’t give a thought to the townspeople. It’s surprising we haven’t had more trouble from them since this damnable course was built. Was Emily abused?” His eyes looked haunted.
“No, she was not. Dr. Ryder said she was stabbed, and it was over quickly.” Matt saw no reason at this point to share the information about the bite marks found on his daughter’s body. Fred sobbed into his hands.
“Like with a knife?” asked Jack.
“Yes, son, with a knife. That’s one of the things my officers are hunting for this morning. You don’t have one in your room, do you?” Matt asked Jack, searching his face for any telltale signs of guilt.
“No.”
“Did you hide one Friday night, Jack? Maybe you hid it in the rocks on the beach somewhere?”
“Look, Horning,” Fred got a hold of himself. “You can turn this house upside down for all I care, but you’re not going to badger my son.”
“Everyone in this house is a suspect, Fred. I’ve got to question your family. We’ll rule people out when we can verify alibis, but until that happens, you need to let me do my job. Now, let’s you and Jack and I go into the kitchen, please.”
“I don’t have a knife,” Jack said, sitting down quietly at the kitchen table. Fred sat in the chair next to him, while Matt took a seat opposite the two.
“I believe you, Jack.” Matt said. “Let’s talk more about what you did Friday night. Would that be OK with you?”
“I told that other guy yesterday, I went to the movies with Joey.” Jack waved his hand in the direction of Ed.
“Where exactly did you go?”
Jack looked at Matt liked he thought that was the dumbest question ever. “The Port Stirling Cinema. It’s the only place in town.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot there is only one theater. What did you see?” Matt asked in a friendly voice.
“The new Star Wars.”
“Was it cool?”
“I guess so. It was kinda hard to follow at first.”
“What’s the title mean? I haven’t seen it.”
“I think it was a starship, but I’m not sure. They never really explained it. Kinda dopey. They screwed this one up.”
“How did it end? Did all the bad guys get killed?”
Jack hesitated. “Well, we didn’t really see the end. It got kinda boring, so me and Joey bounced over to the other screen, and by the time we came back, it was over.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize there are two screens at the Cinema,” Matt said. “What was playing in the other room?”
“Deadpool. It was kinda dorky.”
“Who was in it?”
“That Ryan guy was the main dude.”
“So you went back to the first movie?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Just answer Chief Horning’s questions, Jack,” inserted Fred.
“Sure, dad.”
Jack twitched. “Yeah, we got some popcorn and then snuck back into it, but the credits were rolling.”
“I understand that your sister dropped you off. How’d you get home? Did Joey give you a lift?”
Jack paused and looked at a spot on the wall like he was trying to remember.
“Uh, no, I walked.”
“You walked home?” Matt asked. His eyebrows may have shot up. “How far is it from the theater to your house?”
“Dunno. I jogged most of the way, so it didn’t take me long. It’s probably, like, a mile or something.”
“How did Joey get home?”
“His dumb mother was going to pick him up. That’s why I walked. I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Matt asked.
“She’s stupid,” Jack replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“How do you know she doesn’t like you?”
“Joey told me. He said she said that I was too smart for my own good, and that I have a big head cuz dad’s the mayor. Like being mayor of this place is anything special.” Jack let out a little snort. “Sorry, dad,” he said sheepishly, looking up at his father.
“It’s OK, Jack. You’re right; it’s just a job.” Fred looked very sad.
“Does Joey think that?” Matt went on as if he hadn’t heard Fred.
“Nah, we got a good laugh,” Jack smiled. “I think Joey knows his mom is kinda stupid. Sorry, but it’s the truth.” He rubbed his chin, as if he was searching for non-existent stubble.
Matt paused and waited for Fred to admonish Jack about calling his friend’s mother stupid, but Fred sat there looking at his lap.
Changing gears. “Did you go into Emily’s room when you got home?” Matt asked quickly, staring hard at Jack’s face.
“Nope.”
“Did you see her?”
“Nope.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Nope. I think mom and dad were in the family room, but I just went to my room.”
“So, you didn’t see your parents when you came in?” Matt asked.
“No. I don’t usually. I go to my room.”
“We could see the light under his door when Marjorie and I went to bed,” Fred said quietly, “so we knew he was home. Jack likes to read late, and we don’t have a
problem with that.”
Matt turned to Fred. “But you didn’t actually see him?”
“No. But it was just like every other night,” Fred said defensively.
“Do you—did you—like your little sister, Jack?” Matt said.
Jack looked hard at Matt for a split second. “I like all my family,” he finally replied. “And, I would like to know who hurt Emily. Will you find out?” He looked like he might be about to tear up, so Matt thought that was probably enough for today.
“Yes, son, I will find out,” Matt answered, patting Jack on the shoulder. I hope to hell and high water I do find out.
* * *
Turning to Fred, Matt asked, “Anyone ever threatened you or any members of your family?”
“Not that I can recall,” said Fred. “There are the occasional lunatics who don’t like a zoning decision or my actions on the vagrants or the like, but they’re harmless. People here speak out when they don’t like something; it’s the way we do things.”
“Do they show up at City Council meetings, or how do you know when someone is unhappy?” Matt asked.
“Most of the time, people call me up on the phone and give me a piece of their mind.”
“When is the last time that happened?”
Fred massaged his temples. “Not for several weeks. Probably the last time the water went off. City crew hit a pipe.”
“Has anyone been upset with you recently?” Matt continued. “Anyone display any anger toward you, or said anything in the past week or so?”
“What about that nutcase Fergus who brought you the vegetables?” Jack asked his father. “He seemed pretty ticked off that you weren’t helping him build his dopey business.”
“Fergus Dunbar? No, he’s a gentle soul,” Fred said. “He was a little perturbed because I won’t mention the farmers’ CSA program in a City Council meeting, that’s all. He didn’t really expect me to promote the business, I don’t think. Just wanted to make sure I was talking it up whenever I had the chance to do so. And we don’t use the word “nutcase”, Jack, OK?”
