Murder By Duplicity

by B. T. Lord

  “As you said, you can’t positively identify him. But I’ll still need you to make a witness statement.”

  “I’ll do that now and close up when I’m done,” Rick said. “See you in the morning.” As Jim got up, Rick bent over Cammie and whispered, “Nice threads.” He then escorted his cousin out of her office.

  Letting herself out the back door, Cammie got into the Explorer and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. Her first impulse was to drive straight to Bill’s house and confront him. But it was late. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

  It was better to wait until morning when she’d be more rested to take on what was sure to be a blustery, overdramatic performance of denials and threats.

  She might have reconsidered her decision if she’d known what the next few hours would bring.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took Cammie a long time to fall asleep as her mind whirled around the conversation she’d had with Jim. When she finally drifted off, it was close to midnight. She was therefore not very happy when Doc burst into hers and Jace’s bedroom at 1:30 am, abruptly awakening them both.

  “What the hell--” She grumbled angrily as both she and Jace sat up in bed.

  “I just received a phone call from Margo. She’s at Bill’s house and she’s hysterical. He had some kind of accident.”

  Cammie’s anger and exhaustion instantly disappeared as she jumped out of bed. “Is it serious?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Give me two minutes to throw on some clothes.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the Navigator.”

  As Doc left, Cammie dove into the closet where she shed her pajamas and threw on a pair of jeans and polo shirt.

  “I’m going with you,” Jace said as he slipped into jeans and a T-shirt. “With all the negative talk about Bill these days, God knows what happened to him.”

  She nodded, not having time to argue. They flew downstairs and found the Navigator idling in front of the porch. Doc looked questioningly at Jace.

  “We might need back-up,” Jace said as he climbed into the back.

  “For what?’ he asked, gunning the Navigator down his driveway.

  “You never know.”

  “You’ve been hanging around Sherlock too long.”

  Bill didn’t live too far from Doc. His imposing Greek Revival style home sat on a hill offering a spectacular view of Waban Pond. The lamps that lined the winding driveway were on and the interior of the house was ablaze with light as Doc screeched to a stop before the front door. They all spilled out of the vehicle and rushed up the porch stairs. Rather than knocking, they pushed open the door and entered.

  To the right of the entranceway was a staircase that led upstairs. Before them was a huge open concept living room that looked out over the pond. Dressed in a blue robe over a set of silk pajamas, Bill was lying on the floor, moaning and writhing in pain. Near him was an overturned glass coffee table. Margo, also dressed in a nightgown and robe, was kneeling next to him, trying her best to calm him down.

  “Oh my God, my back,” Bill yelled through gritted teeth.

  “What happened?” Doc asked as he bent down to examine the mayor.

  “I was attacked, god damn it!”

  “Attacked?” Cammie gasped.

  “Jace, help me get him onto the couch,” Doc ordered.

  Getting a 300 pound man in excruciating pain up off the floor was not easy. It didn’t help that every time they tried to move him, Bill screamed in agony. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Jace, Doc and Cammie finally maneuvered him up onto the couch. While Doc ordered Margo to get a glass of water to give Bill a powerful muscle relaxant, Cammie tried to find out what happened.

  “Who attacked you?” she asked.

  “I was awakened by someone banging on the front door. I came downstairs and when I opened the door, I was verbally assaulted by one of our fine citizens. I backed up, trying my best to calm them down. When I reached the couch, they gave me a hard shove that toppled me over. I hit the coffee table as I went down. They must have realized they’d gone too far because they immediately took off.”

  Cammie took out her revolver. “I’ll check the perimeter. They may still be here.”

  He waved his hand at her. “They’re gone. I heard them drive away.”

  “I need to make sure. I’ll be right back.”

  She ignored Bill’s demands that she remain in the living room. Going outside, she grabbed a flashlight from the Navigator’s glove compartment and did a careful sweep of the front and back yards. She then walked up and down the driveway, trying to see if there were fresh tire tracks. When she was done, she re-entered the house where she found Bill resting comfortably on the couch with a pillow behind his head and beneath his enormous legs.

  “I gave him a muscle relaxant. He should be out in a few minutes,” Doc said as she came up. She looked down at Bill.

  “Who did this to you? You say ‘they’ so was it more than two people?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? You were physically assaulted!”

  He gave her a stern look. “I said it doesn’t matter.”

  “Do you at least know why you were attacked?” He waved his hand at her. “Is it because you’re being accused of murdering George?”

  Margo gasped as Bill glared at Cammie. “Do we really need to do this now? I’m very tired and I don’t need you badgering me or upsetting Margo.”

  Cammie looked over to Margo, who stood with her arms tightly held against her chest. “Do you want to tell me who did this?”

  She looked away and shook her head. “I was upstairs asleep.”

  “You didn’t hear the banging on the door?”

  “I – I took a sleeping pill. I haven’t been sleeping well ever since you showed me the picture of George. I only awoke when I heard Bill screaming out in pain.”

  Doc stepped away from Bill’s side and pulled at Cammie’s sleeve. “I’ll be by later this morning to check up on you. In the meantime, we’ll be off.”

  Cammie shook Doc off. “I’ll get one of my deputies to keep watch on your house.”

  “No need to do that.”

  “Bill, for God’s sakes, don’t be so stubborn. You could have been seriously injured, or worse.”

  He was now becoming noticeably drowsy. “Let it go Cammie. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

  She saw there was no point in arguing with him further. “Margo, if you hear anything, even so much as a chipmunk on the walkway, call me right away.”

  “I will. Thank you all for coming. I’m so sorry we woke you up.”

  After making sure the door was locked behind them, the three trudged wearily to Doc’s Navigator and climbed in.

  “Well, that was exciting,” Jace wisecracked as he yawned.

  “Did you find any defensive marks or anything else on Bill that would indicate he was attacked?” Cammie asked Doc.

  “I was only able to do a cursory examination, but no, I didn’t find anything.”

  She shook her head. “Margo honestly didn’t hear anything? Really?”

  “She did say she took a sleeping pill,” Jace reminded her.

  “That had to be the atomic bomb of sleeping pills if she didn’t hear the yelling and screaming from downstairs,” she retorted.

  “Calm down, Cammie,” Doc remonstrated. “You’re just cranky because you were awakened out of a dead sleep.”

  “No, I’m cranky because I hate to be awakened out of a dead sleep by a situation I find highly suspicious.”

  “You don’t believe the mayor was attacked?” Jace asked as he leaned his head against the car window and closed his eyes.

  “I’m not saying…I don’t think…” She raked her hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Feelings have been running high in town over the possibility that Bill murdered George,” Doc explained. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to add any more fuel to the
fire. Can’t say I blame him.”

  “He may not be so lucky next time.”

  “Now that you’re aware of what happened, I’m sure there won’t be a next time. My advice is to let it go. At least for tonight.”

  She uttered a long sigh. “I guess you guys are right.”

  “Wow, she must really be tired,” Jace joked. “She’s actually admitting we’re right.”

  The next morning Cammie sat in her office, pretending to study the victim board that now included Reginald Steepman and the attack on Bill. What she was actually doing was fighting hard not to fall asleep.

  It had taken her forever to fall asleep after their escapade with Bill. By the time she drifted off, the alarm trilled annoyingly in her ears. Both she and Jace stared at each in bloodshot, exhausted gazes before tossing the alarm clock across the room, and falling back onto the pillows to snooze for another hour.

  However, as much as she would have liked to spend the rest of the morning in bed, she knew she had to get to work. In fact, after showering and changing into her uniform, she was determined to visit Bill and try to get him to tell her the names of the persons who’d attacked him.

  Over a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Doc warned her Bill would probably be loopy if he’d taken the powerful muscle relaxants he’d left for him.

  “I’ll be swinging by after lunch to check on him. I’ll let you know if he’s up to seeing anyone.”

  But Cammie, being Cammie, stopped off at Bill’s house anyway on her way into HQ. There, she was met by a resolute Margo who told her Bill was asleep and not to be disturbed.

  She’s starting to resemble a damned Rottweiler, she thought in frustration as she climbed back into the Explorer. Now she sat in her office, staring bleary eyed at photos of the skeleton, George’s facial reconstruction, Reginald Steepman smiling back at her (and still looking creepy doing it), Margo, and Bill with the words scribbled in black marker, “Attacked at Home” with the date and time.

  “Looks like you and Jace had a wild, jungle-love kind of night,” Rick said as he entered her office and placed a cup of coffee in front of her, joining the other two cups she’d already consumed. “I hope you did me proud.”

  “I don’t even want to begin to hear what you mean by a jungle-love kind of night,” she yawned.

  He chuckled while she filled him in on what had occurred. When she was done, his teasing was gone, replaced by a look of concern.

  “That’s not good. Who the hell attacks the mayor in his own home? Especially when there’s not one shred of evidence that he’s guilty?”

  “When emotions are concerned, people lose all perspective,” Cammie said as she took a long sip of coffee in an effort to wake up.

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  Rick looked to the board and saw that she’d scribbled ‘April 14, 2007’ under the photo of Peabody’s skeleton. “Jimmy’s statement is in the file.”

  “Good.”

  “So has your psychic radar told you what the meeting was about?”

  “Psychic ability has nothing to do with it. Remember what Jim said he heard the driver of the second car tell George?”

  “Something like ‘get out of town.”

  “Exactly. I think your cousin was right. I think it was Bill who met George that night to warn him to get out of town.”

  “That still doesn’t tell us when and who killed him though.”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there is absolutely no trace of George after he supposedly left Twin Ponds? You said yourself you couldn’t find him in Bangor or anywhere in the State of Maine.”

  Rick sat back in his chair. “You said before you didn’t think he’d left Twin Ponds.”

  She smiled. “Looks like I’m not the only one with psychic radar. I’m hoping once Bill is coherent again, he’ll be able to provide that little detail, or at least finally come clean over what really happened between him and George Peabody. In the meantime, take a drive over to the Townsends and see where they were last night.”

  Every town, no matter how small, always seems to have that one family who are born to make trouble. In the case of Twin Ponds, it was the Townsend family. Old man Townsend and his three grown sons were weaned on hating authority, and reveled in being the town agitators. Whenever there was a drunken brawl or vandalism to property, they were usually in the middle of it. They were also not shy about voicing their political beliefs. She knew from past experience they weren’t exactly on Bill’s Christmas card list. And he definitely wasn’t on theirs. She didn’t doubt that if they truly believed Bill was guilty of murdering George, they would take matters into their own hands.

  “Take Tom with you. For some reason, they like him.”

  “That’s because before he decided to become a deputy, he used to do a bit of rabble-rousing with them.”

  “So did you,” she pointed out.

  He grinned. “My bad boy past. Women love that.”

  She sighed. “I haven’t figured out yet what women don’t love about you.”

  Before the morning was over, everyone in town was talking about the attack on Bill Barnes. Opinions drastically changed. Where they were once howling for his blood, they were now rallying around him, aghast that someone would have the audacity to assault him in his own home.

  “I can’t keep up with demand,” Mac told Cammie when he sat down to get a statement from her regarding the attack on Bill. “My little newspaper is not only flying off the shelf, my server almost crashed with all the internet hits it’s getting.”

  “It isn’t every day the mayor of our little town goes from pariah to saint in less than twenty-four hours,” she replied.

  “Any leads yet?”

  “Officially, we’re working on it. Unofficially, I’m waiting for Bill to recover a bit before I interview him for more details. As you can imagine, he wasn’t quite coherent when we went over there last night.”

  “I have to tell you, Cam, people are scared. And angry. They don’t like the idea of someone, even one of their own, assaulting our mayor.”

  “I don’t either. But without a physical description, it’s hard to say who’s responsible.”

  “We can pretty much guess, can’t we?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.

  “All I can say is that all avenues are being undertaken even as we speak.”

  At that moment, Rick stuck his head in. “Can I speak with you?”

  “Sure. Excuse me, Mac.”

  They stepped out into the hallway. “It wasn’t the Townsends. They went hunting with Wally Lyons and a group of his friends yesterday and spent the night camped out on Koasek Ridge. At 4:30 this morning, they were all eating breakfast. They got in a bit more hunting before they all headed home around 9:30 am.”

  “Thanks, Rick.” She started to turn away when she looked back over her shoulder at him. “How did they take your questioning?”

  “Oh you know. The usual insults about The Man picking on them, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Well, The Man wouldn’t pick on them if they weren’t such pains in the ass.”

  She returned to her office and finished up her interview with Mac.

  “I promise that as soon as I find out something, I’ll make sure you get the scoop. In the meantime, if you can write whatever you have to write to calm down the townspeople, I would really appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  By the time Mac left, it was close to six PM. She was in the process of closing down her computer when her phone rang.

  “Sheriff Farnsworth,” she answered.

  “Sheriff, this is Aidan Gilmour down at the Crime Lab. We found something that I thought you’d want to know about.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Good night, Cam,” Rick called out as he poked his head into her office. He paused when he saw the look of intense concentration on her face as she held the phone to her ear. Instinct told him to wait by the doorway.


  “Have you sent me the photos?” She listened for a moment before replying, “I understand. I don’t care about that. I need to see those ASAP.” She swung around to her computer and started punching up the department email. “Yep, I got them. Thanks Aidan.”

  As she hung up, Rick entered her office. “What’s up?”

  “That was the lab. When they examined the wallet found at the crime scene, they found a photograph hidden between the leather flaps.”

  She pulled up the photos and blew them up on her screen. The first was a picture of the wallet with a slit where the stitching had begun to wear.

  “Will you look at that?” Cammie said as they looked at what was basically a secret compartment. The next photo showed what was discovered within the hidden space.

  It was a color photograph that was torn and badly deteriorated. They could just make out the figures of a man and a woman standing next to each other. Although the faces had been destroyed by time and the elements, they were still able to make out the lower part of the photo where the man clearly had his arm around the woman’s shoulder.

  “Who do you think they are?” Rick asked.

  “Does that look like a grey suit the man is wearing?” Rick nodded. “In fact, don’t you think it resembles the suit that was found on the skeleton?”

  “You think that’s George?”

  “That would be my guess. The wallet was discovered near the possible murder weapon, which wasn’t too far from where George was found. This time 2 plus 2 may actually equal four.”

  “So if that’s George, the woman must be Margo.”

  “I don’t think so. Doc said George was almost 5 ft. 10 inches tall. Margo’s my height which makes her about 5 ft. 8 inches. Look at the position of his arm. It’s downwards. If I was to make an educated guess, I’d say this woman is about 5 ft. 6 inches tall. And look again at the clothing. He’s dressed up in a nice suit, but she’s got on jeans and a tight red t-shirt. Have you ever seen Margo wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt of any color?”

  Rick laughed. “I think Margo would rather die first than be caught wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt.”