by P. Creeden
Colby had stood up again, and muttered quietly with the sheriff, but Emma couldn’t hear them. Something had her stuck on two photos of Mr. Warwick. She stared blankly at the photo of him with the crew member and at the photo of him standing in front of the Happy lighting from the festival. Frustrated, she stood up. Molly bolted to her feet as well, suddenly ready to play from a deep sleep.
Pacing the foyer of the hotel room crime scene, Emma tried to recount the events that took place. According to her father’s theory, the thief gained access to the room, shot Ms. West, stole the valuables, and left. The facts didn’t make sense to her. She wondered how fast a crook had to be in order to fire a shot, ransack the entire hotel room, and then leave without a single interruption. She reenacted the scenario and estimated it would take nearly 10 minutes to complete all of the tasks.
Something else took place. She reset the hotel room, mentally, and played the role of Ms. West. As she pretended to brush her teeth in the mirror, Colby peered around the corner at her. He shook his head and made a whispered comment to the sheriff, successfully gaining a laugh out of the old man. Emma felt Molly nudge her leg. The Saint Bernard was also observing her, but didn’t understand the point of the reenactment. While walking to the entrance, Molly took the opportunity to playfully pounce on Emma, causing her to stumble to the floor.
Suddenly, the victim’s body and placement made sense. Emma thought that if Ms. West exited the bathroom only to find the hotel room ransacked, that perhaps she might have tripped on something she couldn’t see while brushing her teeth.
“The thief was already in the hotel room when Ms. West was murdered!” she cried out. Putting the pieces together, Emma continued excitedly. “If Mr. Warwick left the motel at 10:30, like Horace said, he’d still have enough time to change outfits, come back, commit the crime and be back out at the festival in time for the photos… almost.”
Confused, Emma needed proof that he’d faked the photos somehow. She didn’t know how he could have gotten to the festival in time for the photo with the word “Happy” in it. Molly stood patiently by, waiting for Emma to start playing. The poor pup would have to wait just a bit longer.
Rushing back to the photos, with no explanation to Colby or her dad, she started comparing the photo of Mr. Warwick with the word “Happy” to the photos Colby had taken. They were very similar. Mr. Warwick was centered, wearing the thick coat and smiling, his left hand raised to his chin in a typical writer pose. She met eyes with the confused-looking, tired-eyed Colby. “Do you remember anything about Mr. Warwick that might indicate he had a body double?”
Colby shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Seriously? I don’t even remember anyone else at the festival that fit Mr. Warwick’s height, let alone his jacket.”
True. Wait!
The jacket was the clue!
Why would he have worn such a thick jacket to this year’s festival when it was so warm? The photo with the word “Happy” must be fake, she thought. When she focused hard, she found something. “Dad, if you look at this first photo at the festival, isn’t that a little bit of snow on the ground? But the second with the word ‘New’ shows no sign of snow. It was too warm this year, but didn’t we have flurries before the festival last year?”
Her father took both photos from her and compared them for several minutes. “So, your theory is that the ‘Happy’ photo might have been taken last year? I don’t know Emma, there might be snow in the first picture, but it might not be, either. That’s not enough evidence for me to arrest him.”
Emma needed more.
Colby inspected the pictures himself. “I can see what you’re saying, but it’s a little bit hard to tell. We could see if the crime lab could blow up the photo and clarify, but like the sheriff says, it’s not enough.”
Molly was excited and prepared for adventure as Emma dashed out the door of the hotel room, calling back, “Follow me.”
Emma rushed to the last place she saw Mr. Warwick headed, the office of the hotel. They found Mr. Warwick lying on the couch in the small motor lodge lobby, dozed off. Molly plopped a furry cold-nosed head on the couch beside his cheek, waking him. He sat up, blinking at Emma, before he noticed Colby and the sheriff standing behind her. He shook his head and looked again, confusion clouding his features.
“When did you take that cruise, Mr. Warwick?” Emma asked, all manners lost in her excitement.
The sleepy old man shook his head. “What’s this all about? I already told you that it was a Christmas Cruise. Five days long. We left on the twenty-first and got back on the twenty-sixth.”
Emma nodded. “And why were you wearing such a heavy coat at the festival?”
He glared at her and then turned to the sheriff. “Is it normal for a man to be questioned by such a young girl in front of law enforcement?
The sheriff huffed. “Just answer the question.”
“Like I said before. I was just cold.”
Not believing a word the man said, Emma narrowed her eyes back at him and pulled a picture from the stack. “But in the photos, you’re clearly sweating. See. It’s beading on your nose here.”
Mr. Warwick’s jaw tightened for just a moment before his eyes grew bored and his hand waved in dismissal. “That was probably just from the bright lights of the display at the festival. They were harsh on my exposed skin.”
Not defeated, Emma asked, “How often do you wear that jacket? Have you owned it long?”
“My wife purchased it for me a few years ago when we went skiing. I’ve worn it every winter since.”
Emma had one more key point to make. She dropped the photos in his lap and held up the one of him with the crew member aboard the cruise ship.
Colby and the sheriff leaned in with her. She grew determined to make her father proud and to show Colby what she was made of.
Emma extracted the photo showed a smiling Mr. Warwick with his arm around the crewmember and held it up. “When did you take this picture?”
“I told you. Two weeks ago.”
She looked at it and then turned back to him. “But you have wedding ring on in this photo. When did your wife pass on?”
He frowned and stood to his full height, seeming to get taller. “That’s quite enough. This line of questioning is taking a rude turn. I’d rather not be questioned in such a way while sitting in the lobby of a motel.”
“Would you rather we took this down to the station?” the sheriff asked, stepping forward, and nudging his daughter behind him.
Emma appreciated the gesture, but she wasn’t a child anymore, and needed to prove it. She pushed gently on her father’s arm and stepped up beside him. “Answer the question, Mr. Warwick. How long before this picture was taken had your wife died?”
He frowned, silent for several seconds. Then he took a deep breath, his shoulders falling just a bit. “My wife had been dying of cancer for over a year. The last four months of her life, she spent barely awake in a hospital bed. I loved her, but being tied to a chair in a hospital beside her bed was no place for me. When she passed on, I decided to love her within my new-found freedom and move on.”
“How long?” the sheriff reiterated.
“Three months.”
In disbelief, Emma pointed to the man’s hand. “But you don’t have a wedding band on any longer. Not even a tan line from it. But if we look at the picture of the word ‘Happy’ there’s clearly a white mark where your wedding band should have been. It’s an easy thing to look up, Mr. Warwick. If your wife died three months ago, like you say, or a year and three months ago.”
Colby gasped and stepped forward. The sheriff flung an arm in front of his daughter and rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon. They both stood in front of Emma, a protective barrier between her and a murderer.
The old writer’s shoulders drooped, and he sat down once more, defeated. Immediately he broke into tears, sobbing on the couch in the lobby of the hotel. After a few breaths, he confessed, “You’re right. It was over a ye
ar ago that Ivy left me. That picture was taken a year ago. I staged the crime scene and planned on using photographs taken on the cruise from last year as my alibi.”
The sheriff’s shoulders relaxed, but Colby still stood as a tensed coil. Her father cleared his throat. “But why did you do it?”
“The murder of Ms. West was fueled by pride… and revenge. I couldn’t let her take away my spot in the publication and give it to Miss Emberley. The poor young writer might have a promising career, but I couldn’t let them both take what was mine. It threatened my stature as a prominent mystery writer to be dumped by my agent at this age. It would take me too long to find another.
“I met Ms. West on the cruise. She was enamored with my fame, and I charmed her, thinking we could develop an even better relationship than I’d had with my former agent. But then I saw her notes in her planner. She intended on meeting with Miss Emberley here and giving her a contract to replace me. Me! I couldn’t let that happen.”
Unfazed, the sheriff immediately pulled his handcuffs off his side. “Please stand up and turn around.”
Once he cuffed the man, he called in on his radio for the other deputies nearby.
“Nice work!” said Horace, from behind the front desk.
“Awesome detective work!” The young teen still seated at the front desk with Horace, silently recorded a video on his phone.
When did he start that? Emma wondered as heat rose to her cheeks.
Officers arrived and hauled Mr. Warwick away. His confession would be enough for a conviction.
Emma knelt down and praised Molly for being such a great help. The Saint Bernard was excited to be a part of the process and graciously accepted the love and praise. The whole gang was tired and ready to call it a night. The New Year’s Mystery was solved.
Chapter Six
Molly dipped her cold nose onto Emma’s neck and licked her cheek a few times before she fully awoke.
“Enough!” Emma cried, pushing the Saint Bernard’s face out of hers. She blinked at the ceiling and sighed. The sunlight across her room told her it was late in the day already, but she didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Her cellphone vibrated on the table. Bleary-eyed, she retrieved her phone and glanced at the screen. Colby. That woke her up. She sat up quickly and swiped the screen, getting to her messages.
Thanks for your help with the case.
Slightly disappointed the text was so short, she sighed and fell back against her pillows. She put the phone to her face and read the message again anyway. It wasn’t often Colby texted her and she cherished every one of them like a school girl. Then she noticed a missed call from her dad.
Frowning, she hit dial and waited for her father to pick up the phone.
“Hello.” Her father’s voice sounded chipper, like he’d been whistling just before she called. He always did when he was happy.
“Hey, Dad. I saw you called?”
“Yeah. Want to come over to the house for dinner? Just you and me?”
“What about Molly?” she asked in a feigned hurt tone.
He chuckled on the other end of the line. “Of course. Bring Molly, too. I miss having you in my house enough to tolerate that gigantic mutt.”
“She’s purebred, you know.”
She could almost hear his eyes roll. “Dinner, then? I’ll make my famous potato salad.”
“Sounds awesome! I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Great. And kid, good job last night.” He hung up before she could even respond.
But her heart fluttered. Her father was proud of her, and that made her happy. She sat up and released her happiness by giving Molly a good scratch behind the ears. The Saint Bernard couldn’t resist the urge to kick her hind leg in sync with Emma’s scratching pace. With a deep breath, she hopped up and got started with her day.
As she went about cleaning her apartment, Emma got curious. She opened her laptop and did a quick search online to find the mystery syndication she’d learned about from the case. A new story had been posted, with an acknowledgement to Ms. West. The publisher must not have been told that Mr. Warwick was guilty of murder, himself. Emma instantly became sad and closed her laptop with a sigh. Mr. Warwick didn’t deserve the glory he longed for after committing such a terrible crime.
Molly began wagging her tail and let out a soft woof followed by a slow and low moan. Emma didn’t quite understand how she and Molly communicated, but could tell the Saint Bernard wanted to comfort her. She knelt and hugged the puppy, realizing in that moment that Molly was special, and their bond would last a long time.
The End
Look for more of Emma and Molly’s adventures:
http://amazon.com/author/pcreeden
It's New Year’s Eve and 20-year-old Emma Wright has a date with her crush—well, not a real date, but she can dream! Colby Davidson, the K9 search and rescue deputy, is allowing her to accompany him while he’s on patrol at the Ridgeway Illumination Festival. Though they are just friends, she’s still hoping for a possible kiss at the end of the festivities.
When a stranger asks them to help take some pictures at the event, Emma and Colby are happy to oblige. But their assistance turns them into alibis for the man’s whereabouts while his girlfriend was killed. Most of the clues point to a robbery gone bad, but Emma doesn’t believe all of them point that way. Was it really a robbery or was it murder?
It's Valentine's Day and 20-year-old Emma Wright just wants her crush to take notice of her. But Colby Davidson, the K9 search and rescue deputy only thinks of her as a kid sister. How will she get him to take her seriously?
When her veterinarian boss calls her to pick up a cat at a potential crime scene, she finds herself at the house of the richest woman in Ridgeway. Her father—the sheriff—and Colby are there. They both dismiss the untimely death as a heart attack, but Emma finds clues that it might be something more. Did the software billionaire die of natural causes, or was it murder?
It's St. Patrick's Day and 20-year-old Emma Wright is working hard at training five-month-old Molly, her foster puppy, to become a therapy dog. But her training coach and neighbor gets an emergency call, cutting the lesson short, and Emma volunteers to pick up her daughter at a St. Patrick's Day concert in town.
When Emma arrives, the concert has just finished up, and the teenage girls are visiting with the band. Then the lead singer stumbles and falls to the ground, dead. Emma becomes the only level head in the crowd and calls for help. When the Sheriff and Colby arrive, they investigate it as a potential accident. But Emma finds subtle clues that something more sinister is going on. Did the leader of the band die in an accident, or was it murder?
All hands on deck! It’s a beautiful spring day and 20-year-old Emma Wright is meeting her crush, Colby Davidson, for a two-hour tour specifically for dogs and their owners – The Canine Cruise. She and Molly, the Saint Bernard, are so excited to see both Colby and Gabby, his K9 partner, as the two have been away on training.
It’s smooth sailing until someone shouts “man overboard!” A news reporter who is covering the day cruise for a local station falls into the fast-flowing Potomac River, and she doesn’t know how to swim. Did the reporter fall overboard in an accident, or was it murder?
Coming in May: Emma and Molly attend a wedding... where a murder overcomes the romance of the occasion!
About the Author
If you enjoyed this story, look forward to more books by P. Creeden.
In 2019, she plans to release more than six new books!
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