Murder By Duplicity

by B. T. Lord

  Cammie stepped into her office and sat down. Her eyes went immediately to the victim board. There were several ideas running through her head – nothing concrete quite yet, but a picture was starting to emerge. A few pieces were falling into place, though the jigsaw puzzle was far from being finished.

  She stood up, went over to the board and was about to start jotting down these ideas when she glanced at the incomplete photo found in the wallet that she’d tacked up. Something about it caught her attention. Hurrying to her desk, she took out a magnifying glass and went back to the photo where she studied it carefully.

  She was still studying it when she heard a step behind her.

  “Emmy said you wanted to see me. Holy crap! No offense boss, but your hair looks like you put your finger in a socket. You could give Bozo the Clown a run for his money.”

  “I’m going to pretend you never said that. In the meantime, come over here.”

  He came over and stood next to her. As he did so, she heard a strange sound. She glanced over to him.

  “You’re squeaking,” she said.

  “Um, well, it’s not me.”

  She looked down and saw the tiniest rust colored fur ball she’d ever seen in her life sitting in Rick’s hand. “Sheriff Farnsworth, meet Augustus. Augustus, this is Sheriff Farnsworth.” He bent down over the dog and whispered, “You definitely want to get on her good side.”

  The poor little thing was whimpering. And shaking. And looking slightly malnourished. “So this is the ogre that’s been terrorizing Janey Ferguson?” she asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “And you have him, because?”

  “Look at him, Cam. The little tyke is hungry. I just sent Emmy over to the Emporium to pick up some dog food. Between you and me, Dottie’s not all there anymore. I couldn’t leave him and have her accidentally starve him. Or let him out in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t last a minute. It would be like shaking a McNugget in front of a hungry hawk or coyote.”

  “You did the right thing.” She petted him and he licked her hand. “He is adorable.” She handed Rick the magnifying glass. “Look at the right hand portion of the photo where it’s torn and tell me what you see.”

  Rick plopped the dog in Cammie’s hands and studied where she pointed. She held Augustus up to her chest, lightly stroking him under his chin until he began to relax.

  “I’m not sure. There’s something there, but I can’t quite make out what it is.”

  “I think I know what it is.” He looked at her with a puzzled look on his face. “It looks like fingers. And by the position and size, I’d guess they belong to a young boy.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rick bent over and studied it again. “Holy cow. You’re right,” he exclaimed.

  “We know the woman isn’t Margo. Is that her little boy? Is that hers and George’s little boy?”

  Rick’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That points the investigation into a whole ‘nother direction.”

  “Of course, it could just be a friend or acquaintance that happened to have a son.” She leaned forward and wrote ‘Child?’ next to the photo. Then, still holding onto Augustus, who had fallen asleep in her hand, she sat back down at her desk while Rick sat opposite her.

  “How did the ID go with Margo?”

  “She once again said she couldn’t state positively that it was George’s grey suit, but she does remember him having one.”

  “Same thing she told me.”

  She then told Rick about her visit to Bill. When she finished, he burst out laughing.

  “Only Bill would come up with such a harebrained scheme.”

  “It worked. Everybody loves him again.”

  “Yeah, but everybody hates you.”

  “Hopefully his statement will clear that up.”

  At that moment, Emmy poked her head in. In her hand, she held a small dog bowl filled with food. “He’s asleep in your hands,” she grinned. “He really likes you.”

  “Despite what some people think, I’m not really the anti-Christ. Here, why don’t you take him and see if he’ll eat anything.”

  Emmy did and as soon as she put Augustus down in front of the bowl, he gobbled it up.

  “I can’t take him back,” Rick said. “That little guy needs a loving home.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Cammie replied. “If it weren’t for Doc and Jace, I’d be facing malnutrition.”

  “I’ll take him,” Emmy spoke up. “Although she won’t admit it, I know Mom gets lonely during the day while I’m working. Augie will be perfect company for her. And on those days she goes to her church meetings…” She gave Cammie a hopeful look.

  “As long as he doesn’t have any accidents in the office or gets underfoot, I don’t see why he can’t come here once in a while.”

  “Oh thank you, Sheriff!” Emmy picked up the dog and hugged him. “What do you think of that, Augie? You’re going to be our mascot!”

  “Four pounds of killer canine,” Rick joked. “He’ll certainly keep the criminals out of Twin Ponds.”

  That afternoon, Cammie and her staff were just finishing lunch when a call came in from Forensics.

  “Hey Colin, what do you have for me?” she said as she put the call on speaker for the staff to hear.

  “I got good news and bad news.”

  “Give me the bad first.”

  “Fingerprint analysis turned up nothing in Steepman’s house or car. Nor were there any foreign fibers in the vehicle. However, we were able to identify the hairs found on the back of his lounge chair.”

  “Great. What are they?”

  “They belong to a cat.”

  “A cat?”

  “A white cat to be exact. Did the victim like cats?”

  “Not sure. But I know someone who does.”

  Twenty minutes later, Cammie and Rick were standing on Bill’s front porch. Thankfully the rain had stopped, though the sun was now making them feel as though they were wallowing in a sauna. Rick rang the doorbell and a few moments later, Margo opened the door.

  “I told you before, Sheriff, the Mayor is still not up to receiving guests.”

  “I know all about his charade,” she said. “Don’t worry. Neither Rick nor I will tell anyone. Besides, it’s you we came to see. We need to ask you a question.” Margo gave a sigh of impatience, but let them in. “That white cat I saw in your house the other day. Is that yours?”

  “No. I believe I told you, it belongs to a neighbor.”

  “Which neighbor is that?”

  “You met her. Sally Nichols.”

  “That’s right. Does the cat always hang around your house?”

  “Not always. Pookie comes and goes as she pleases.”

  “Margo, where were you last Tuesday at around 4 pm?”

  She looked startled at the question. “I was at work, of course. I’m in the middle of planning the civic awards dinner. As you know, that’s one of our biggest events of the year.”

  “Is there anyone who can verify that you were at your desk?”

  “I was on the phone all afternoon. If someone came by, I didn’t see them.”

  “Thank you, Margo.”

  “By the way Sheriff, if I were you, I’d make an appointment with Wanda as soon as you can. Maybe she can do something about your hair.” Before Cammie could answer, Margo shut the door in her face.

  “She really is a Rottweiler,” Cammie snarled under her breath.

  “She’s a what?” Rick asked.

  “Never mind.”

  As they walked towards the Explorer, Rick looked at her. “What’s all this about a white cat?”

  “When I went to question Margo, there was a huge white cat in her living room. Who’s to say she didn’t get cat hair on her clothing that was then left on the back of Steepman’s lounge chair when she bent over and injected him with the sux?”

  “And what would her motive be to offing Steeper the Peeper?”

  “He obviously got the money from somewh
ere to buy all those toys.”

  Rick’s jaw dropped. “He was blackmailing someone!”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that somebody had to have deep pockets for Steepman to afford all that stuff.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “There are only three people in town who could afford that kind of stuff. We can rule Doc out because he wasn’t here when everything went down between George and his killer. The other two are holed up in that big house we just visited.”

  Cammie threw Rick a proud smile. “You’ll be walking in my shoes some day.”

  Rick shivered. “Hell, no. I’m not up to that kind of responsibility. I’m like Cora. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Since when do you read Shakespeare?”

  They reached the Explorer. “I don’t. I read that in a fortune cookie. Always thought it was pretty cool.”

  They found Sally Nichols kneeling in her front yard. She was surrounded by several pots of chrysanthemums and she was in the middle of planting them.

  “Hello Sally,” Cammie greeted.

  She peeled off her gardening gloves and stood up. “My, you’ve got your deputy with you. This looks serious.”

  “Actually, I’m here to ask about your cat, Pookie.”

  “Pookie? Did she hurt anyone? Oh God, please don’t tell me someone ran her over.”

  “No, I was just wondering how often you let her out.”

  “She insists on going out every day. I know how dangerous it is to let cats out, what with predators and all, but if I don’t, she’ll drive me crazy meowing and scratching at the door.”

  “Do you know where she goes when you let her out?”

  Sally laughed. “She does love Margo’s place, though for the life of me, I don’t know why. Margo isn’t exactly a cat person. But she puts up with Pookie.”

  “Where were you last Tuesday at around 4 pm?”

  Her cheeriness instantly disappeared. “What is this all about?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say right now. But we would appreciate it if you’d answer the question.”

  “I was at the nursery, picking up these mums you see. Today is the first day I’ve had to get them into the ground. Marianna had such a wide variety of colors, I couldn’t resist. They’ll look so beautiful when they bloom in the fall.”

  “Tell me, what kind of a neighbor is Margo?”

  Sally tilted her head as she thought about the question. “She’s alright, I suppose.”

  “Not as friendly as you I would think,” Cammie said.

  The woman laughed. “She can be a bit standoffish sometimes. But if you can’t depend on your neighbors, who can you depend on?”

  “Is she dependable?”

  Sally looked startled. “You know, I’m not really sure.”

  Driving down the street, Rick turned to Cammie. “Okay, that was kind of weird.”

  “Not really. When I went to interview Margo a few days ago, she made a remark concerning fences making the best neighbors. I get the sense Sally is one of those neighbors who is as annoying as her cat. In other words, she’s constantly going over Margo’s and can’t seem to take the hint that her neighborly visits are not appreciated. Or wanted.”

  They went to the nursery where her alibi was confirmed.

  “If Pookie heads all over town, anyone could have picked up cat hair on them,” Rick said as they pulled away.

  “Let’s check with Dr. Logan. Pookie may not be the only white cat in town.”

  There turned out to be fifteen white cats in Twin Ponds, two of which lived near Steepman’s house. When Cammie and Rick visited the owners, they discovered that one of the cats never went out, while the other roamed outside during the day.

  “That cat could have made Steepman’s lounge chair its home when he wasn’t around,” Cammie replied as she sat in the Explorer, discouraged by their findings.

  “So it’s back to square one, huh?” Rick asked.

  “I’m afraid so.

  They were both dejected when they got back to the office. Cammie noticed that Emmy had taken one of the towels from the bathroom and created a little bed for Augie under her desk. He was asleep and she was shocked by the noise coming from him.

  “Is that Augie snoring?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Pretty loud, isn’t he?”

  “Jeez. He sounds like a freight train.”

  “You guys don’t look too happy.”

  Rick told her how their morning had gone. When he was done, she pointed towards her steno pad.

  “Maybe this will cheer you up a bit. I managed to finish the background check on Margo. When her parents died, they left her close to $4 million.”

  “That’s not what Bill told me,” Cammie replied. “He said her parents left her only $750,000 which George apparently blew through.”

  “Why would Bill lie?” Rick asked.

  “Maybe it wasn’t Bill who was lying.” She turned back to Emmy. “What else do you have?”

  “Mr. Peabody didn’t go through her inheritance. And he certainly didn’t go through what she received from her first husband.”

  Cammie jerked her head up. “First husband? She never told us she had a first husband.”

  “She married Avery Brooks in 2001. He was the CFO of a Fortune 500 company. His salary and bonus were well in the 7 figures.”

  Cammie whistled. “She must have cleaned up in the divorce.”

  “Oh, they didn’t get divorced. Mr. Brooks died in a hunting accident. He and a few of his colleagues were crossbow hunting for elk out in Montana when the accident occurred. The newspaper accounts say it wasn’t clear what exactly happened, but according to Margo--”

  “Wait a minute,” Cammie said. “Margo was there?”

  Emmy nodded. “She was part of the hunting party that was made up of two other men, herself and her husband. The group sighted an elk and split up in order to corner it. One of the men eventually bagged it. It wasn’t until they returned to camp that they realized Mr. Brooks wasn’t with them. They did a search and found him dead with an arrow through his throat.”

  “Jesus,” Cammie muttered.

  “There was an investigation, but it was inconclusive. They finally ruled it an accidental death.”

  They all looked at each other. “Are you all thinking what I’m thinking?” Cammie asked.

  “What are the chances?” Rick asked. “One husband dies with an arrow in his throat while the other is bludgeoned to death. She’s either got the worse luck imaginable, or we’ve got ourselves a black widow.”

  “How much did she inherit from husband number one?” Cammie asked.

  “About $10 million.”

  “So she goes from marrying a CFO to marrying a high school math teacher?” Rick asked. “Talk about a comedown.”

  Cammie absently tapped the edge of Emmy’s desk with her index finger. “There were no children? No one else who would have inherited anything?”

  “It was a first marriage for both Margo and Mr. Brooks. They didn’t have any kids. Margo herself was an only child. Mr. Brooks had a sister who died of cancer a year before he was killed.”

  “So in total, between her parents and her first husband, Margo inherited $14 million. What happened to all that money that she needed Bill to make monthly deposits to her account? Unless…” Cammie stopped drumming the desk as a dismal thought occurred to her. “Emmy, first thing tomorrow, I need you to see if you can find any other bank accounts for Margo. Maybe she has one under her previous married name. Can you also track down the lead investigator on Avery’s death?”

  “What are you thinking?” Rick asked.

  “I don’t like what I’m thinking. And I’m really hoping I’m wrong. But if I’m not, Margo has been conning Bill to the tune of over $1 million by making him believe George spent all her money. You saw that joint bank account. To anyone who didn’t know about any of her inheritances, it looked as though she and George were just squeaking by.”


  “Why would she do something like that? I thought she and Mayor Barnes were in love,” Emmy replied.

  “She may be in love, but it’s not with Bill. It’s with his wallet.”

  “Whew, is he going to be pissed when he realizes he was thinking with the wrong head when it comes to Margo,” Rick replied.

  Cammie glanced at Rick. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “This doesn’t exactly show her in the best light,” Emmy admitted. “But how does this fit in with what happened to Mr. Peabody?”

  “One, it establishes Margo to be a liar. Two, it shows a pattern of greedy behavior. We know she hid what Bill was giving her in a separate bank account under her maiden name. What if it was Margo who put that arrow into husband number 1 in order to get her hands on his money? Getting away with that murder gave her the courage to do it to husband number 2 when he turned out to have an addiction to gambling. Or when she discovered there were two people being unfaithful in that marriage.”

  “Where’s the proof?” Rick asked.

  “One step at a time. First, let’s see if the lovely Margo Peabody collects bank accounts like Doc collects verbal put-downs.”

  At that moment, little Augie awoke and crawled out of his bed. He stretched, gave an adorable little yawn, then went over to Cammie’s boot and peed on it.

  “I think our mascot just christened you,” Rick said before bursting out in laughter while Emmy gasped in horror.

  “Lovely,” Cammie muttered under her breath.

  The next morning, Cammie swung by Judge Drury’s house where she obtained the warrant to get into Steepman’s safety deposit box. She called Rick and asked him to meet her at the bank where they met with the bank manager, Mr. Jenkins.

  Small, and thin, with a balding head and a high pitched voice, Mr. Walter Jenkins looked every inch as though he’d been weaned on bank statements. He looked up when Cammie and Rick walked into his office.

  “What can I help you with, Sheriff?” he said.

  She handed him the warrant. “We need you to open Reginald Steepman’s safety deposit box.”