Murder By Duplicity

by B. T. Lord

  Copyright© Bety Comerford (B.T. Lord)

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1548403485

  ISBN-10: 1548403482

  Cover Art by Michelle Motuzas

  Cover Design by Alison Ouellette

  Other books in the Twin Ponds Mystery Series:

  Murder on Ice

  Murder by Misadventure

  A Perfect Case of Murder

  To Mary C. and Bob E.

  Thank you isn’t enough for your enthusiasm and

  support for Twin Ponds and all

  of my writing endeavors.

  Your encouragement keeps me going

  PROLOGUE

  The heavy sounds of machinery marred the serenity of the surrounding forest. Ugly gashes in what had once been a lovely, wild flower filled meadow ripped across the surface, replacing the flowers with mounds of angry, upturned earth and mud.

  Steve Murphy glanced at his watch. It was break-time. Turning off the huge excavator that was responsible for leaving the obscene scars on the land, he wiped his brow with a handkerchief he’d pulled out of his jeans pocket. Jeez Louise, but it was scorching out here, more so in the claustrophobic cab where he sat. And it wasn’t even the hottest part of the day yet.

  Reaching into the cooler he kept next to his seat, he withdrew a bottle of water. Opening it, he took a long hard swallow.

  He swung down from the machine and once more wiped his brow with his handkerchief. He saw the men from his work crew gathered by one of the trucks that had been parked under the shade of a small grove of trees. They were sitting together, joking and trash talking, enjoying a respite from the intense heat.

  He looked across the meadow, not to mourn the destruction he’d created, but to calculate how much work still needed to be done. Steve had no conscience when it came to tearing down trees or ripping up fields. It was a job. It provided money for his family. That’s all it was and it was all it would ever be to him.

  Steve took one last gulp of water before turning to join his co-workers, to listen to their ribald jokes, or to bitch about the hot weather. Walking across the field towards them, his eye caught something in the mountain of dirt he’d just dug up. He slowed his step and gazed at it for a long moment, trying to convince himself it was just a branch from a birch tree. The meadow was surrounded by birch trees. Yeah, that’s what it was. Just a broken branch, bleached out by the sun.

  He started once again towards his buddies. But with each step, the thought of what it could be nagged at him and wouldn’t let go. He was a good worker. A conscientious worker. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore it. He had to check it out.

  Shit, why does this happen to me? There are ten other guys out here. Why couldn’t it be under one of their damned machines?

  Steve continued to silently grumble as he turned away from the crew and drew nearer to the mountain of dirt, rocks and broken branches the excavator had brought up. Bending at the waist, he stared at what had caught his attention. He hesitated, then reached out with his fingers and pulled some of the dirt away. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took an involuntary step back.

  “Hey Chuck!” he yelled out to one of his co-workers. “Get the boss on the horn. He needs to see this ASAP.”

  Although it was only ten in the morning, the day was already sweltering. If it weren’t for the slight breeze blowing up from Waban Pond, everyone would have melted hours ago.

  Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth stood on a small platform that had been erected in Foster Park, which sat on the shores of the large pond. She felt a bit ridiculous standing there, as if she were about to receive the keys to the city. If Twin Ponds had any. Which it didn’t.

  Sweat trickled down between her breasts, and her uniform was plastered to her back as she impatiently waited for the mayor of Twin Ponds to show up. Bill Barnes, who’d been mayor of the small town since dinosaurs roamed the earth, was fifteen minutes late. With each passing moment, the sizeable crowd that had gathered in front of Waban Pond was growing restless. Not only was the heat blistering, but they all wanted to get this over with.

  So did Cammie.

  They’d gathered on this hot late June day to finally close a chapter in Twin Ponds’ life. Fifteen years before, a young man who’d been born and raised in this small town had left to become a hockey legend. He’d returned last year, both in triumph and ultimately in tragedy when he’d been found murdered in his bed.

  Eli Kelley had once been a huge part of Cammie’s life and now, on this sizzling day, she was about to spread his ashes over Waban Pond – the place where he and she had started playing hockey together all those years ago.

  It seemed appropriate to spread his ashes where it had all begun. The townspeople were ready to say good-bye. To have a sense of closure. One more chance to be close to Eli before the winds took away what remained of him, leaving only memories in its wake.

  At least that was the thought everyone had when they’d started to gather an hour before.

  Now Bill Barnes was screwing this up. Big time.

  Cammie blew out a frustrated breath. Not thinking she’d need sun tan lotion, she could feel the skin cells on her face screaming in agony as they shriveled under the melanoma-inducing rays from the boiling sun. Originally, she’d planned a five minute ceremony, saying a few words about what Eli had meant to the town, before opening the urn and spreading his ashes over the water, all the while praying the breeze wouldn’t blow it back into her face.

  She could only imagine the risqué jokes her deputy Rick Belleveau would come up with if she managed to get some of what remained of Eli in her mouth.

  Unfortunately, Barnes had insisted on making a speech. Which would probably be long-winded, since all of his speeches were long-winded. Cammie was convinced he made long-winded speeches in the shower, if only to hear himself speak. Kelley had become a legend, not only to the world, but to his home-town. Barnes insisted it was not only appropriate, but necessary that he be remembered in florid detail on such a solemn day.

  There was no way to fight this. He was the mayor. And responsible for her running for Sheriff. She’d had no choice but to give in to his demands, or risk having him make her life a living hell, especially at budget time. He held the purse strings to her department, and if she hoped to get her staff a decent raise this year, she needed to cooperate.

  Even if it meant exposing everyone to possible skin cancer as they waited for his arrival.

  She scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Instead, she saw Rick break away from the throng and jog towards her.

  She frowned as she noticed that while she was drenched in perspiration, with her curly auburn hair now wet and clinging to her neck, her half Native American/half French Canadian deputy hadn’t even broken a sweat. In winter, while she struggled with long underwear, lined gloves, three sweaters, and two pairs of heavy socks under her Polar Tec jacket, the bastard never even wore a hat. Now here he was, looking crisp and refreshed while she probably resembled a piece of soggy, wilted lettuce.

  “Hey Cam,” he whispered. “We better get this ash party started, or else some of the townspeople are going to grab that urn from you and dump it into the pond themselves. It’s friggin’ too hot out here to
keep waiting for Barnes to show up.”

  He was right. And, if only in the interest of saving everyone from suffering sun stroke, she knew she had to act.

  “Got it,” she replied. “Get their attention, will you?”

  Rick put two fingers to his mouth and uttered a piercing whistle that almost ruptured Cammie’s eardrums.

  “Why don’t we begin?” She announced in a loud voice.

  “About time!” someone shouted.

  “Yeah, or we’ll be joining Eli in the water!” Another called out.

  “Okay, okay.” She cleared her throat. “I want to thank all of you for coming. I know how much Eli Kelley meant to this town and to all of you--”

  “For God sakes, we know all that. Just dump the ashes so we can get back to our air conditioners!”

  Cammie blinked in surprise. This wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned the ceremony to go. But hey, it was pretty hot out. And knowing Eli as well as she did, he’d probably find the whole thing hilarious.

  She hoped.

  “Alrighty then. Here’s to Eli!” She hopped off the platform and turned towards the pond. Taking the top off the urn, she was about to dump the contents into the water when she heard the sounds of a siren. Perplexed because, with the exception of Emmy, her entire staff of deputies were there with her, she watched as one of her cruisers slowly made its way through the crowd.

  “Who the heck is that?” she asked Rick.

  “I don’t know, but they’re driving one of our squad cars.”

  She handed the urn to Rick and stomped towards the vehicle. A moment later, Bill Barnes popped out. A large, rotund man, who took great care with his appearance, he was dressed in a beautiful dark suit with matching tie. It was his face, however, that momentarily took Cammie by surprise. It was beet red with anxiety. His thinning hair was completely askew, as if he’d raked his fingers through it several times.

  “Just what the hell are you doing in one of my cruisers?” she demanded.

  “I needed to get your attention, and my car doesn’t have a siren.”

  “Hey, will you get on with it?” Someone from the crowd yelled. A chorus of angry voices agreeing rose up.

  “Listen, if I don’t dump Eli’s ashes into the pond within the next two minutes, we’re going to have a riot on our hands.”

  She started to turn back when she felt Bill grab her arm. “That can wait.”

  “Are you nuts? Look at these people. They’ve been waiting 20 minutes for you to show up. You can tell me later why you’re late. In the meantime, it’s hot and we need to get this over with.”

  Physically removing his hand from her arm, she started back towards the pond. Bill hurried after her.

  “You don’t understand,” he puffed as he tried to keep up with her long stride.

  “No. You don’t understand,” she countered.

  They reached the pond. Cammie started to take back the urn from Rick when Bill’s next words made her stop.

  “They found a skeleton out where I’m building the new hotel.”

  She stared at him. “A skeleton?” He nodded nervously. “And?”

  “And I think I might know who it is.”

  Rick looked from Cammie to Bill, then back again. He knew this conversation could go on forever. And right now, he had to save their lives from the increasingly restive crowd.

  Making what he considered an executive decision, he put the urn on the shore, took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants leg. Grabbing the urn, he waded into the warm water until it reached his shins. There, he held the urn out and turned it upside down.

  “By the power invested in me, I now pronounce your ashes three sheets to the wind. Sayonara, Eli. May the Force be with you!”

  The crowd roared its approval as the ashes poured out onto the surface of the water. Caught up in the moment, Rick cheered too. At that moment, a stiff wind gusted and before he knew what was happening, the ashes were blown back right into his mouth.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cammie and Rick entered the tent that had been erected over the site where the skeleton was discovered. They found Dr. Samuel “Doc” Westerfield, the town doctor and county coroner, kneeling in front of a rectangular shaped pit that contained the skeleton still lying on its side. Clinging to the bones were remnants of what looked like a suit. Near the feet were the remains of a pair of shoes and socks.

  He’d been there all morning with the Forensics team who were now examining the surrounding area to make sure there were no other bodies. On her way to the site, Cammie feared that the construction workers had disturbed a Native American burial ground. But seeing the modern suit and shoes, she breathed a sigh of relief. So did everyone else.

  “I’d say this skeleton has been here between 10 to 15 years,” Doc said when the officers arrived. “You see here?” he asked, pointing to a muddied piece of fabric that lay on the ground near the ribcage. “That blue material is what, in my estimation, is left of his tie. Once I get the bones into my lab, I should be able to come up with his approximate age at time of death.”

  “So the only part not intact is the arm the excavator dug up?” Cammie asked.

  “Correct. If that machine had dug a few more inches to the right, we would be looking at a jigsaw puzzle of bones.”

  “So you think the arm was extended away from the body, which is why the excavator didn’t hit the rest of the skeleton?”

  “I’d said so, yes.”

  Cammie slowly walked around the pit, studying it from all angles. “What do you think, Doc? It’s impossible to say if he died here or was moved to this location.”

  “Either way, he was obviously buried here. If the body had been left where it fell, his bones would have been scattered to kingdom come courtesy of predators. As it is, you can see gnaw marks on some of the bones from smaller creatures. I’d say the killer dug this hole and threw the body inside. It certainly wasn’t gently positioned in the grave. But to say where he was killed?” Doc shrugged.

  “Whoever the killer was certainly went through a lot of trouble, didn’t they? We’re so far out in the forest, they could have easily just dumped the body. If it weren’t for the construction of the new hotel, he’d probably still be in the ground. Why go through all the trouble of digging a grave?”

  “Maybe the killer was psychic and knew that in ten to fifteen years, they’d be breaking ground for the new Taj Bill Barnes Mahal hotel and resort,” Rick replied. When he saw Cammie’s look, he held his hand up. “I’m joking!”

  She came back beside Doc and peered over his shoulder at the back of the skull facing them.

  “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” she said.

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s psychic. Or was it the huge crack that gave it away?” He asked, smiling teasingly at her. Cammie guffawed.

  Doc was notorious for his prickly nature, his acid tongue ready to strike out at any moment. However, he and Cammie had recently been through a harrowing situation that had softened his edges. At least with her.

  “So the poor dude never saw it coming,” Rick replied.

  “From the angle of the damage to the skull, I’d say he did not.”

  Cammie turned to Rick. “If Doc’s estimation of when the murder took place is correct, I’d already left Twin Ponds, so I’m no help. Do you recall anyone going missing back then?”

  Rick thought about it, then shook his head. “Nothing rings a bell.”

  “No sign of identification yet, Doc?”

  He shook his head. “We’re about to bag the bones. If there’s a wallet, a ring, even a wrist watch, it may still be underneath the poor wretch. Once we remove the skeleton, I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  While Doc continued working to clear away the remaining dirt, Cammie and Rick left the tent. Bending down to slip beneath the police tape that had been put up around a large part of the meadow, they made their way towards their respective vehicles.


  “I’m going to talk to Bill,” she said as she opened the Explorer’s door. “While I’m doing that, why don’t you go back to HQ and get Emmy to help you look into any missing person reports. Start fifteen years ago and work forward.”

  “Will do, Cam.”

  She was about to climb inside her vehicle when she suddenly stopped and looked around her, studying the thick forest of trees and shrubs that surrounded them.

  “Humph,” she finally said.

  “Is that a good ‘humph’ or a bad ‘humph’?” Rick asked, knowing his boss well enough to guess her investigative mind was already racing a million miles a minute.

  “It’s a puzzled humph. Look around you. What do you see?” He looked at her in bewilderment. “I’ll make it easy for you. All you see are trees, trees and more trees. We’re miles from town, and the only road out this way is one of the old logging trails which hasn’t been maintained in God knows how long.”

  “Tell me about it. I almost broke an axle getting out here.” He saw the look of intense concentration of her face. “What are you thinking?”

  She looked up at the birds chirping in the tall oaks, and absently swatted away a mosquito that buzzed close to her ear. “Okay, scenario number one. If the man was killed here, what was he doing out this far? Especially dressed in a suit and tie? Those aren’t exactly hiking clothes or boots. Was he meeting someone here? If he was, the meeting was definitely of a secretive nature to be held out in the middle of nowhere. Now maybe I’ve been a cop too long, but that sure smacks of something illegal, or at least highly suspicious. Scenario number two. Was he forced out here by his murderer?”

  “Don’t forget scenario number three in which he was killed elsewhere and dumped here,” Rick suggested.

  “I’m keeping my fingers crossed it’s scenario number one. Scenarios two and three are more frightening.”

  “Why?”

  She glanced at him. “Because it means the killer knew the logging trail was here. Fifteen years later, it’s still difficult to find unless you know what you’re looking for.”