by B. T. Lord
“Humph,” Rick snorted. “He probably got cold feet thinking that maybe what he’d thought was legal maybe wasn’t so legal after all.”
She decided to put this case down for now and go back to George Peabody. She assembled her staff in her office and stood in front of the victim board.
“Okay, we know Bill met George on April 14, 2007 in the woods where his skeleton was eventually found. We don’t know if he was killed that night, but I suspect he was definitely murdered before the date he told everyone he was leaving Twin Ponds. Why do I think that? Because Rick found absolutely no trace of him, either in Bangor, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“What do you suppose was in Bangor for him?” Rick asked.
Cammie pointed to the deteriorated photo. “Her. Margo said he made several trips to Bangor over the years. I don’t think he went there for business. I think he went there for her. He was very careful about hiding the photo in his wallet. Why go through all that trouble if she didn’t mean a great deal to him?” She looked back at the board. “There’s also something else that’s been bothering me. It seems these stories about him being a racist surfaced after he supposedly left Twin Ponds. Yet those who knew them best were shocked when I mentioned it to them. They swore they’d never seen that behavior in him. And as Rick pointed out, if he was such a racist, why would he pay Lucy Perez, a Hispanic woman, anything?”
“Because he was afraid she’d ruin his reputation?” Emmy asked.
“He was leaving Twin Ponds anyway, so why would he care?”
“What is your point?” Rick questioned.
“I’m wondering if the racist stories were planted after he was killed to make sure no one would miss George Peabody.”
“Whoa,” Rick gasped.
“That was the theory I was working on that I wouldn’t share with you. Not until I’d figured it out. You said yourself, you only heard the stories. You didn’t actually witness any racist behavior on his part. That’s been pretty much what I’ve heard from everyone I interviewed. No one saw or heard anything. They only heard about it. And they only heard about it after he left town.”
At that moment, Cammie’s cell phone rang. She picked it up and listened. “Great. I’ll be right over.” She hung up and turned to her staff. “That was Colin. He and his team are just arriving at Margo’s.” She went over to her desk and, taking a piece of paper off it, handed it to Rick. “Part of his team are also at Bill’s. Here’s the search warrant for his place.”
“You’re making me go to Bill’s?” Rick asked.
“Don’t worry. He won’t shoot the messenger. He’ll just call me and tear me apart.”
“And threaten to take your badge away,” Emmy smiled.
“And threaten to take my badge away. Again.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rick said as he took the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “He can be merciless when he wants to be.”
As it turned out, it was Margo who was merciless. Despite a search warrant, she ranted and raved, making herself as disagreeable as possible. Even a warning from her attorney that there was nothing to be done but to allow the search to take place did not calm her down. If anything, it made her even more obstreperous.
“You are an insult to that badge,” Margo railed at Cammie for the hundredth time. “You’ll arrest anyone, including an innocent woman, just to get this over this and preserve your precious reputation. But what about mine? You care nothing for that, do you? I swear I will sue you and see you ruined before I’m done.”
Rather than engage in what would inevitably be a fruitless discussion, Cammie chose to ignore her. Which only enflamed Margo even more.
She’d asked Margo to remain in the living room while the team went through the rest of the house. Knowing she would only disrupt the search, Cammie opted to stay with her, a decision that she quickly grew to regret. For over an hour, Margo continued to harangue and insult her until finally the sheriff lost her patience.
“If you’re so innocent Margo, then you have nothing to hide, do you? And if you have nothing to hide, then these people will find nothing. And if they find nothing, it’s one step closer to proving you had nothing to do with your husband’s death.”
The Forensics team looked up in surprise as silence abruptly fell over the house.
Cammie and Margo stood, staring defiantly at each other. Thankfully, Margo didn’t continue the tirade. Instead, she sat down on the couch, crossed her arms tightly across her chest and stared at the empty fireplace. Cammie was about to sit opposite her when she heard a light knock on the glass doors. Looking up, she saw Colin beckoning to her.
“I need you to see this,” he whispered to Cammie when she came out into the hallway.
“Hold on a sec.” She turned back to Margo. “I’m going to need you to remain in this room.”
There was no response. Hoping she would obey her orders, Cammie followed Colin out to what had once been George’s workshop.
“By the way, we found a jar with some herbs, vinegar and dried owl poop under Steepman’s lounge car,” he said as they entered the workshop. “You really want that in the report? And what the hell was it all about anyway?”
“That, Colin, is some very powerful mojo, especially the owl poop. You never mess with owl poop.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “Riiiigghhhtt.”
The shelves and workbench George had built into the wall were still there, though now, instead of containing woodworking tools, there were now bins filled with Christmas decorations, boxes of used books and old family photo albums. The floor was covered with a thin, light tan commercial rug that looked as though it had been there for years.
He pointed to a spot around and beneath the table. “We found what looks like drops of dried blood on the rug underneath this workbench. After we cut the spots out, we sprayed the entire area with luminol. The results were positive. It was once saturated with blood.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It had been an eventful day. Although nothing was found at Bill’s home, the discovery of the blood in George’s old workshop, as well as the sledgehammer that had once belonged to him, were reinforcing Cammie’s belief that he’d never made it out of Twin Ponds.
“I think he and Margo were in his workshop having an argument. Maybe it was about Bill. Maybe it was about his gambling. Maybe it was about that woman in the photograph. Whatever it was about, it was enough to enrage Margo so much that she grabbed the closest tool, which happened to be that sledgehammer and smashed him over the head with it.”
Cammie was standing in front of the victim board while Rick and Emmy looked on.
“That may be true, but can you honestly see Margo picking up his body, putting it in her car, driving all the way out to the woods, digging a four foot grave and then dumping him in it?” Rick asked.
“You’d be surprised at what people are capable of if they’re desperate or frightened enough,” Cammie concluded. “Besides, Margo isn’t exactly petite. I’m sure she could have done it.”
“Or with a little help from Bill,” Rick suggested.
“Possibly.”
“It would certainly explain why she let Mayor Barnes have the tools so soon after Mr. Peabody supposedly left Twin Ponds,” Emmy said.
“Exactly. If he’d left, Margo had no way of knowing if he would change his mind and want to come back to her. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him, she certainly moved quickly to make his workshop hers.”
“And, it would explain how Mr. Steepman was able to afford all those things,” Emmy continued. “Mrs. Peabody could certainly afford to pay him whatever he was asking. And they lived close enough to each other that it would have been easy for them to meet without anyone knowing.”
Cammie smiled encouragingly at Emmy. “Brilliant!”
“But how would Margo have gotten hold of Dr. Logan’s sux?” Rick asked. “She doesn’t own a pet so she’d have no reason to go to his clinic.”
She was about to a
nswer when her cell phone went off. Looking at the display, she saw it was Lars Landry.
“Hey, Lars, what’s up?” she answered.
“This may not mean anything, but I was just watching an episode of Law and Order where the perp buys a disposable phone that can’t be traced by the police.”
“And?” she prompted.
“Well, it got me thinking. Right before you found George Peabody’s bones, I decided to order a few for the store. They sort of caught my fancy and I decided to try them out.”
“And?” she asked again.
“I only sold one. I made the sale the day after the remains were identified. This episode reminded me of that. I know everyone is saying he died of a heart attack but I thought you should know that I sold it to Steeper the Peeper.”
Cammie jerked her head up. “You did?”
“Uh huh. Now like I said, it may not mean anything, but like Law and Order always says, you never know what may or may not be important during an investigation.”
“They’re right. Thank you!”
She hung up. As she did so, a memory came up. “We’ll finish this discussion later,” she said as she practically ran from her office.
“I know she’s a good officer and all,” Rick said as they heard the back door slam. “But sometimes our sheriff is just plain weird.”
Thirty minutes later, Cammie was sitting in Cora’s trailer. She was staring at a small round table under the window that held several framed photos of all shapes and sizes. What held her attention was that, instead of displaying pictures of people, each contained a photo of a tombstone. She knew she shouldn’t ask, but damn if her curiosity didn’t scream to be satisfied. She waited until Cora sat down with a cup of tea in her hand before she pointed to the pictures and asked, “Ummmm, can I ask you what those are?”
“Sure. Those are pictures of my relatives.”
Cammie frowned. “Your relatives?”
“That’s right.” She pointed a thin, gnarled finger at the nearest photo. “That there is my Uncle Frasier. He died of a stroke back in 1977. At least that’s what the family says. I think he died slipping the salami to the little chickie he had on the side. That one over there is my Auntie Cherisse. She had six husbands. Outlived every one of them.” She winked at Cammie. “I get my sex appeal from her. And that’s my cousin Timmy. The gravestone is tiny because he was supposedly not well endowed in the --”
“Alrighty then,” Cammie swiftly interrupted. “I came by to ask you to clarify something you said regarding Steepman’s death.”
Cora shook her head sadly. “He may have been a perv, but at least he had good taste.” She ran her hand over her body to emphasize her point.
“Yeah,” the sheriff said slowly. “You stated that when you went over to his house to bury your – er – charms, you heard him talking on the phone.”
“I did.”
“You are hard of hearing even with your hearing aids in,” Cammie replied. “Are you sure it was him on the phone? Could it have been his TV you heard?”
“Well, let me put it this way. I heard him say, ‘I’ll go to that bitch sheriff if you don’t come through.’ As soon as I heard him say that, I knew he had to be talking about you.” Cammie’s eyes widened. “You are the only sheriff around here, aren’t you?”
She cleared her throat in embarrassment. “Is that all you heard?”
“Look, I wasn’t there to eavesdrop. I was on a mission. And I was afraid that if I didn’t hurry, he’d come out and catch me.”
Cammie stood up. “Thanks, Cora.”
“I hope you catch whoever offed the little perv.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think someone offed him?”
Cora smiled broadly. “I may have retired, but it doesn’t mean I’m still not connected. We witches have our ways.”
Cammie thought it best not to respond.
Arriving at HQ, she went up to her deputy’s desk and asked, “I know it’s the end of the day, but what do you say we take a trip over to Steepman’s house?”
“Wasn’t one trip through his porn collection enough?”
“My brain cells are still recovering. However, I think we need to examine every nook and cranny of that place.” She shared the conversation she’d had with Lars and Cora. “It’s obvious Steepman was talking to George’s killer. Nothing showed up in his phone records, so he must have been using the disposable cell Lars told me about. Where it is? And where is his safety deposit box key? I think he had a hidey hole and I intend to find it.”
“I hate to think what else he might have had in there.”
“If it’s really bad, I think I might be able to stretch the budget to cover psychological counseling for us.”
Rick stood up and followed her out the door. “Don’t joke. God knows what else that little nutjob was into.”
Arriving at Steepman’s house, they saw the police tape was still up. They broke it away from the door, unlocked it and stepped inside.
“Holy shit!” Rick exclaimed.
The living room was in complete shambles. Pillows have been torn open, the couch was ripped apart and the flat screen TV was lying on the floor in pieces. Rick stood mournfully over what was left of it.
“I think I’m going to cry,” he whimpered.
Cammie came over and patted his shoulder. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one to think he had a hidey hole. We’ll have to get Forensics over and see if whoever did this left any prints. Let’s check out the rest of the house.”
“I don’t think I could bear it if the home theatre in his bedroom was destroyed.”
Fifteen minutes later, while Cammie scoured the living room, she heard a pitiful wail coming from upstairs.
Believing Rick had been traumatized enough, she asked him to check the kitchen and basement while she took over the upstairs.
An hour later, they were back outside, empty-handed. “Do you want me to get someone to play taps over the remains of Steepman’s electronics?” she asked as they sat on the back step.
“Joke if you must, but those items were the best of the best. It’s a sacrilege that someone would destroy them the way they did.”
Cammie turned her face so Rick wouldn’t see her laughing. Once she got herself under control, she stood up and pointed to a broken basement window. “At least we know how they got in. You’ll feel better once we talk to the neighbors. Maybe they heard something.”
Rick stood up. “Yeah, like the breaking of my heart.”
They interviewed the neighbors and as they’d feared, no one heard or saw anything.
“I can’t believe it,” Rick groused as they climbed back into the Explorer. “If we’d only done this sooner, we might have found Steepman’s cell phone. And saved that beautiful TV and home theatre from the grave.”
“All isn’t lost. It shows the killer is desperate. And desperation leads to mistakes.”
Cammie started to drive down the road when she suddenly came to an abrupt stop in front of Mrs. Hatcher’s home. “I’ll be right back,” she told Rick as she hopped out of the Explorer.
“We already talked to her. Twice!” Rick called out, but she was already at the front door. She knocked and waited a few moments for the elderly woman to open the door.
“I just talked to your deputy,” she complained when she looked up at Cammie.
“I know. I just have a few more things to ask you. It won’t take long.”
“Oh, alright,” she sighed as she allowed Cammie to come in. They went into the living room where they sat down. The old woman took the remote and muted the sound on the TV.
“Mrs. Hatcher, I need you to be very honest with me,” she said, her voice pitched low but serious enough that she hoped the woman would take notice. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak to Deputy Belleveau and myself, but you know, I’ve been a police officer for over ten years and I know when someone isn’t being completely truthful with me.” A look of fear flashed through Mrs. Hatcher’s eyes.
“I really need you to tell me everything. I promise nothing is going to happen to you. No one is going to hurt you. But we need your cooperation.”
Mrs. Hatcher looked down at her arthritic hands. “I – I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Sheriff.”
Cammie leaned forward. “I think you do.” She stood up and went over to the picture window that overlooked the road. She saw Rick in the Explorer, giving her a quizzical look. But what she was looking for was in a zipped container behind the potted plant. She took it out and brought it over to Mrs. Hatcher.
“How often do you use these binoculars to look out the window?” she asked.
The old woman blushed. “I use those for birds.”
“I’m sure when you’ve been looking at the birds, you’ve probably seen other things, haven’t you?”
“I--”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Hatcher. You’re a woman who lives alone. I’m sure you need to make sure the street is safe – that no one who shouldn’t be here is lurking about. It makes perfect sense that you would keep an eye out, not only for yourself, but for your neighbors as well.”
Her strategy seemed to be working. Mrs. Hatcher’s look of fear disappeared and she actually looked proud at the thought that her snooping may actually be keeping everyone safe. “So who did you see show up at Mr. Steepman’s house?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Then take a guess.”
“Well, I won’t swear to it on a Bible, but I did see Mayor Barnes drive up to Mr. Steepman’s home.”
“How long ago was that?”
“He’d come by every few months. He wouldn’t be in there very long, maybe ten, fifteen minutes, then he’d leave.”
“When was the last time he showed up?”
Mrs. Hatcher met Cammie’s eye. “It was the afternoon poor Mr. Steepman had his heart attack.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Do you recall how long Mayor Barnes has been visiting Mr. Steepman?”
