by B. T. Lord
Feeling that the space was now ready for her, she opened her eyes. And looked out her slider door.
“Crap!” she snapped.
Steeper the Peeper was standing on the other side of the glass, his goofy grin on his face, waving at her.
Ignoring the fact that she was stark naked, she stomped over to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife she could find. Turning, she started towards the slider. Steeper’s smile immediately vanished when he saw the scrawny, incensed woman wielding a large butcher knife.
As she reached the door and started to unlock it, Steeper turned on his heel and disappeared around the trailer. A moment later she heard the sounds of his car engine, followed by tires kicking up dirt and gravel as he gunned it down the road.
She reached for the phone to call the sheriff’s department, but decided against it. She and several other women had been complaining long enough, and she was still being harassed by that low life pervert. She’d warned Cammie. Now it was time she took matters into her own hands.
She went to her cupboards where she took down various jars containing all sorts of herbs and other plants she was careful to tell no one about. She then began to chant incantations as she carefully mixed them. This morning, Steeper had crossed a line.
It was the last time he would ever do so again.
CHAPTER FIVE
The entire area around the meadow had been scoured by the Forensics team. There really wasn’t any reason to keep Bill’s crew from continuing their work. As much as she hated losing the field to concrete and mortar, she couldn’t put it off any longer. With a heavy heart, Cammie reached for the phone and was in the process of dialing him when her computer chimed, telling her an email had come in.
Relieved that she could put off the phone call for another few moments, she opened up the email. Itt was from the forensics sculptor. She called in Rick and Emmy and as they stood over her shoulder, she opened up the attachment and saw, for the first time, what their victim looked like.
He’d had strong features, with a thin mouth, straight nose and narrow face. The sculptor had given him thick dark hair and eyebrows. He looked like a man of confidence and authority, just like the business executive Cammie had imagined him to be.
“So that’s Mr. P,” she remarked.
“I don’t believe it. He’s supposed to be in Bangor. Or at least that’s where he told everyone he was going.”
Cammie swung her chair around and stared at Rick. “You know him?” she asked.
He nodded. “I sure do. That’s George Peabody.”
Cammie scoured her brain to see if she could remember anyone by that name.
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Emmy asked.
“Because ten years ago, he ran for mayor against Bill Barnes.”
The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“You were probably living in Seattle at the time, so you wouldn’t remember the battle royale. Bill was pro-business, George was anti-business. Bill wanted to open up Twin Ponds to more tourism. George wanted to protect the environment against what he called ‘the excursion of those who care nothing about what makes Twin Ponds special.’”
“That’s admirable,” Cammie admitted.
Rick snorted. “That was his public face. His private face was a whole ‘nother story.”
She sat back in her chair. “Tell me what you remember about him.”
Rick and Emmy sat down opposite her desk. “He went out for the environment, not because he believed in saving the trees, but because he thought that would get him the votes he needed. His platform was to strengthen the businesses we already had, not make Twin Ponds into another unfriendly, money obsessed metropolis.”
“So what made you dislike him?”
Rick met her eyes. “Plain and simple. He was a racist. He particularly had a thing against Native Americans. It didn’t matter if you were full-blooded, half-blooded, one-tenth blooded. His prejudices made Custer look like the Native American’s fairy godmother.”
“Did you ever experience anything yourself?”
“I didn’t, but I heard stories around town. You know how it is. After an election, all the dirty laundry starts seeping out.”
“So did anybody actually vote for him?”
“They sure did. Bill just squeaked in by about 15 votes.”
Cammie was astonished. “Wow. Bill must have been a mess until he was sure he’d won.”
“He was. I thought he was going to have a stroke as he continued his hard campaigning up until the very last minute.”
Cammie chuckled. “It may not have been such a bad thing for him to be challenged. He was already getting too complacent when I was still in grade school.”
Rick smiled. “That’s true. I don’t think I ever saw him campaign so hard in my life.”
“It would do him good to be challenged again. He’s too comfortable.”
Emmy grinned at Cammie. “Are you thinking of running?”
The sheriff barked out a laugh. “Could you honestly see me as mayor?”
The two looked at each other, then at her and nodded. “Actually we could,” Rick replied.
She immediately held her hand up. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not politician material. I’m too honest, too impatient and I hate bullshit. I wouldn’t last a week.”
“Maybe that’s the kind of person we need around here.”
Cammie shot him a look. “I even get a hint that you’re mentioning me as a possible candidate, I will personally tell every woman over the age of 18 in Clarke County that you sleep with teddy bears.”
“No one will believe you.”
“They will when I fill up your cruiser with stuffed animals.”
Emmy burst out laughing.
“Okay, you win,” Rick conceded good-naturedly. “No mayoral race for Cammie Farnsworth.”
Cammie turned back to the photo on her computer. Suddenly, she swung around to face her staff. “Wait a minute. Did you say this guy’s name was George Peabody?” They nodded. “Is this George Peabody related to Margo Peabody, Bill’s secretary?”
“Uh huh,” Rick answered. “He was her husband.”
“And he was running against Bill ten years ago?”
“Yep.”
“And what was this about him going to Bangor?”
“After he lost the election, he made the announcement that he was leaving Twin Ponds and moving to Bangor. We all assumed it was because of the loss.”
“Do you remember how long it was after the election that he left town?”
“Not really sure. I just remember him not being around anymore.”
“How long have Margo and Bill been doing the deed?”
God, she was beginning to sound too much like Rick.
Rick’s jaw dropped. “Whoa. You think Barnes had something to do with George’s death?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any idea when they started their affair?”
“As far as they’re concerned, they still want the town to think they’re not having an affair.”
“Okay. Do you remember when Margo and George moved to Twin Ponds? I know they weren’t here when I left.”
“I think it was two years before George decided to run for mayor.”
“What did he do for a living?”
“He opened up an accounting office next door to the laundromat. He did people’s taxes, helped with financial planning and kept the books for some of the other local businesses.”
Cammie stood up. “Guess I’m paying a visit to Margo and Bill. I’m going to need her to make a positive identification.” She sent the photo to the printer, and was about to leave the office when Rick approached her.
“Listen, this probably isn’t that important, but I need--” He was abruptly interrupted when his cell rang. “Deputy Rick Belleveau,” he answered. He listened for a few moments. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked at Cammie. “That was Janey Ferguson. Seems her neighbor’s dog is loose
again in her yard. For reasons only the doggie knows, he loves her yard.”
“Is she complaining about Dottie Hanson’s dog?”
“Yeah. She’s terrified of it. Wants me to remove it from her yard and tell Dottie to keep it tied up.”
“It’s a miniature toy poodle, for Pete’s sakes. It’s no bigger than Janey’s hand. Hell, it’s no bigger than my hand.”
“I know, I know. But I better go calm the situation down.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Rick,” she said, turning to face him. “Did George have a secretary or somebody that worked for him?”
“Yeah. Mike Endicott’s secretary, Evelyn used to be his office manager.”
“Thanks” she said. Then she was gone.
“Saved by the poochie,” he murmured under his breath before he too left the office.
The day was already hot as Cammie walked down the few city blocks to the town hall. When she arrived, she went straight to Bill’s office where she found his door closed and Margo serving as watch dog.
“I need to see Bill,” she announced.
“Mayor Barnes is in the middle of a very important meeting.”
“I think my important meeting trumps his important meeting.” She started part Margo’s desk only to have the woman jump up and plant herself in front of Bill’s door. “I’m sorry Sheriff, but he specifically asked not to be disturbed.”
“Is he watching porn again on his computer? Hopefully he’s smart enough not to be watching it on town property.”
Margo gasped. Cammie took advantage of her surprise by moving past her and into Bill’s office.
He was indeed on his computer. But instead of porn, he was cruising one of the home shopping network websites. Cammie caught a quick glimpse of a bottle with the name ‘He Man Spray’ before he slammed his laptop closed.
“Bill, you’re 62. It happens.”
“I’m so sorry, Mayor!” Margo exclaimed as she dashed in. “She just barged her way past me.”
“That’s alright, Margo. I’m sure the sheriff has a perfectly valid reason for coming here today.”
“I do.” Margo turned to leave. “Actually Margo, I’d like you to stay. This involves you as well.”
Curious, but too professional to show it, she sat down in a nearby chair. Cammie sat down in the opposite chair. “I received an email from the forensic sculptor a few minutes ago. She finished the facial reconstruction using the skull from the skeleton we found. This is a photograph of that reconstruction. I knew you’d want to see it ASAP.”
As she spoke, she watched Bill carefully. Just as she’d expected, his demeanor changed. Where a few moments ago, he’d been the arrogant mayor, he was now nervous, unconsciously licking his lips several times.
When she glanced at Margo, she saw neither nervousness nor anxiety. She was perched on the edge of the chair, intrigued as to why she’d been asked to stay.
Cammie withdrew the printed photo from her pocket and unfolded it. “I brought it by to see if it jogs yours or Margo’s memory.”
She carefully unfolded it and placed it in front of Bill. At first his eyes darted everywhere but at the photo. Finally, knowing he didn’t have a choice, he looked down at it. He fought to keep his face expressionless, but Cammie saw his jaw muscles tighten.
“I--” He began before Cammie snatched up the photo and showed it to Margo.
“Maybe you know who this is?”
The woman took the paper and stared down at it for a long moment. Then, before anyone could react, she slipped onto the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER SIX
“Shall I call Doc?” Cammie asked after she and Bill helped the semi-conscious woman over to the couch Bill kept in his office and laid her down.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Bill replied as he urged Margo to drink from a cup of water he’d gotten for her.
Her hands were visibly shaking, but she managed to take a few sips without spilling any on her dark maroon dress.
“I’m sorry,” she said in an embarrassed whisper. “I’ve never passed out like that before.”
“Are you alright?” Cammie asked politely.
She nodded. Then took a deep, steadying breath.
The sheriff stood up from her crouching position. “I’m guessing this means you knew the victim.”
“Cammie, please!” Bill scolded. “Can’t you see she’s still upset? I’m sure your identification of that photo can wait.”
“That’s alright, Mayor. I’m fine. Really, I am.”
Cammie was impressed. Even after fainting, Margo still maintained the façade of employer/employee, making sure she addressed him as ‘Mayor’.
“I won’t have her bullying you, Margo. Not on my watch.” He threw Cammie a stern look. “I’ll have you up on harrassment charges.”
“I just showed her a photo, Bill,” she replied calmly. “I didn’t beat her with my police baton. Not that I have one. Though maybe you can stick that in your next town budget. I’ll need at least six.”
“For God’s sakes, Cammie!” he exploded.
“Don’t yell. You’re upsetting her.” Cammie bent back down over Margo. “Would you like another cup of water?” she asked. The woman shook her head. “Are you up to telling me why you fainted when you saw the photo?”
“Margo, you don’t need to--” Bill started, only to have her interrupt him.
“I’d prefer to get this over with.” He had no choice but to back down.
Margo took another deep breath before meeting Cammie’s gaze. “The man in your photo is – was my husband, George.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“According to Doc, the skeleton has been in the ground for about 10 years. You weren’t concerned that he didn’t come home for dinner in all that time?” Bill growled which she ignored.
“You don’t understand.”
Cammie pulled over one of the chairs and sat down. “The day has been pretty slow, so take all the time you need.” She gave Margo a wide, encouraging smile which only sent Bill into more fits of growling.
“Oh my, this is difficult. I’m not accustomed to speaking about my private life.”
No kidding. The whole county knows you two are sleeping together, and you still can’t admit to it.
Margo took a deep breath and forced herself to ask, “What exactly happened to him?”
Cammie decided for the time being to withhold the fact that they may have found the murder weapon. Instead, she replied, “There was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. In other words, someone came up from behind and smashed his head with something heavy enough that it fractured his skull and caused his death.”
“Oh dear God,” Margo whispered as she closed her eyes against the tears.
“When was the last time you saw George?”
“Before you answer anything, I insist on calling Mike Endicott!” Bill demanded.
Cammie sat back in her chair. “If you want to buy a piece of real estate or change your will, Mike’s your guy. But he has no experience in criminal law.”
“Criminal?” Margo asked in a quivering voice, looking as though she were about to faint again.
“Margo, I’m not charging you with anything. I simply need you to tell me all you know about George’s last movements and how he ended up buried in a field in the middle of the forest.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with the latter. You see, I didn’t even know George was dead until you showed me that photo.”
“Then when was the last time you saw him?” she repeated.
“Ten years ago. Two weeks after the mayoral campaign to be exact. He told me he was done with Twin Ponds. He’d poured everything he had into the race and when he lost, he couldn’t bear being here anymore. He said he’d found a job in Bangor and was leaving the next morning.”
“What was your reaction?”
“Our marriage was already rocky when he decided to run against Mayor Barnes. Somewhere along the l
ine, we began to drift apart until it was as though there were two strangers living under the same roof. I suppose he thought it was my fault he lost.”
“You? Why?”
“I’d been working with Mayor Barnes on a few town committees for about a year. When George decided to run, he insisted I quit. Of course I wasn’t going to do that. Just because he suddenly decided to run for mayor, I didn’t think I should give up what I considered valuable work.”
“Did he actually say it was your fault?”
She gave a sad smile. “When you’ve been married for a while, you learn to read between the lines.”
“Did he tell you what and where this job was he going to?”
“He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. He’d been making frequent trips to Bangor for years. I just assumed he’d gotten a job with whoever that client was.”
“So are you telling me you’re still legally married to George?”
“Yes. I kept putting off calling him about getting a divorce. I suppose I should have, but as time went on, it became less and less important, until it stopped being a part of my life. As far as I was concerned, he was living his life, I was living mine. He didn’t feel the need to contact me, and I never felt the need to contact him.” She sighed. “Now I know why he didn’t bother calling.”
“So you have no address for where he was living in Bangor?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Did he have any relatives? Sister, brother, that sort of thing?”
Margo shook her head. “George was an only child. His parents died when he was in his early twenties.”
“Do you recall the last thing you said to each other?”
Margo’s voice grew thicker as she whispered, “We both wished each other a good life.” She closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks. Bill jumped up and soon returned with a box of tissues. She took one and dabbed her eyes. “All this time, I thought he was living in Bangor when he was actually…” She took a long, faltering breath. “If you don’t mind Mayor, I’d like to take the rest of the day off.”
