Bitter Past

by Caroline Fardig

“I had no idea. That case was what caused you to leave the department, wasn’t it?” he asked, his eyes sad.

  I couldn’t handle his pity, so I stared at the ground. “Yes, it was. Needless to say, when I realized it was pieces of my mother in the bags I’d been processing, I lost it. I went to Jayne and resigned on the spot. She tried to keep me, but she understood why I had to walk away.” I looked up at him, admitting, “I blamed myself for my mother’s death. I thought if I hadn’t cut ties with her…if I had tried to get her the help she needed, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

  “Ellie, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to your mother. The only person to blame is her killer. Don’t put it all on you.”

  “Nick, it is on me.” Tears started pouring from my eyes. “When I found out she was turning tricks for drugs with my pregnant little sister in the house, I went and took Rachel away from her. I called my own mother a crack whore and told her to go to hell. That was the last thing I said to her. A year later, she was dead. I could have helped her walk away from that world. I just didn’t. I decided she wasn’t worth the effort.”

  Baxter’s eyes got misty at my painful confession, and he again pulled me close to him. I let myself give in and cried against his chest.

  After a few minutes I was able to compose myself. Taking a step back, I wiped my eyes on my sleeves. “I bet you’ll think twice about taking me out for a drink again. You always learn way too much about me,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  He smiled down at me. “Next time, I’ll tell you my life story. Then we’ll be even.”

  “Deal.” We started walking again, soon arriving in front of my house.

  He turned to face me. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, although I don’t think I have any secrets left to tell.”

  “Did your mother’s case get solved? Who killed her? You left that part out.”

  “Can’t turn your detective brain off, can you?”

  Giving me a sheepish grin, he said, “No.”

  “The case was unsolved. She died of blunt force trauma to the head, but her body was so degraded there was no evidence to tie anyone to her death. The garbage bags were in terrible shape—either covered in mud or shredded by animals—so I couldn’t get prints off them. Plus, the primary crime scene was never found.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “I’m so sorry. It must be terrible to have no closure and always wonder who did it.”

  “Oh, I know who did it,” I said, bitterness welling up inside me. “Marcus Copland. Rachel’s father.”

  “Rachel’s father? Did the police investigate him?”

  “They would have, but they couldn’t find him. It was like he vanished into thin air.”

  “Has he tried to contact your sister?” Baxter asked.

  “No. She hasn’t heard from him since he disappeared.”

  He stroked his chin, deep in thought. “He either killed your mother and ran, or he’s dead as well. I could—”

  “No,” I said, cutting him off. “I know that look. I appreciate that you’d like to take a crack at solving the case, but please let it be. Rachel and I have been through enough. I don’t care whether that sadistic bastard is dead or in hiding as long as I don’t have to see him or think about him ever again.” I got my keys out and paused at my door. “Hey, congratulations on catching a murderer. You’re pretty good at what you do.”

  Smiling, he said, “Thanks. Don’t forget we have a meeting tomorrow at ten with the brass to go over our next move for the Vanover case.”

  I sighed. “Just what I wanted to do with my Saturday.”

  ***

  Even though I got to sleep in the next morning, I woke up with a horrible headache thanks to my overindulgence the previous night. I popped some Advil and headed straight for the coffeepot. I could hear Rachel and Nate talking in the kitchen as I approached and felt a stab of apprehension. She and I hadn’t spoken since our fight yesterday. After my feelings about how I’d treated my mother resurfaced last night, I had resolved not to make the same mistake with Rachel. Nothing was worth ruining our relationship over. I didn’t know how I was going to stomach the fact that she was dating that douche Tony Dante, but something had to give for us to be able to repair our sisterly bond. I had to squelch my stubborn streak and let her make her own choices even if I thought they were idiotic ones.

  Rachel and Nate were sitting at the table having breakfast when I came into the kitchen. “Hey, guys,” I said quietly.

  “Auntie Ellie!” yelled Nate, flinging his arms up so I could hug him as I passed his chair.

  I winced as his loud cry shot additional pain through my head. “Good morning, sweet boy,” I said, giving him a hug and a kiss.

  Rachel was concentrating on her cereal. I could tell by the set of her jaw that she was still angry. Nate went back to eating his breakfast, unaware of the palpable tension in the room.

  “Hey, Rach,” I said.

  “Hi,” she replied, not looking up.

  “Can we talk outside?”

  She shrugged, but got up and headed for the back door. Young adulthood had to be tough for her—being old enough to have her own child and be responsible for him, yet still young enough that she was expected to take direction from her teachers and sometimes from me.

  When we got outside, she plopped down on the nearest lawn chair. “What do you want to talk about? Who else I can’t date?”

  Ignoring her snappy tone, I said, “I want to tell you I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to try to control who you see.”

  Her posture relaxed slightly. “You’re apologizing? But Ellie Matthews never admits that she’s wrong.”

  I smiled. “I know. It’s something I think I should work on. Look, you love who you love, right? It’s not my place to make that decision for you. I might not agree with your choices, but it’s your life. I only want you to be happy. That’s all I wanted in the first place—I just didn’t say it right.”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “But you hate Tony. You’ve said that since you met him. That’s why I didn’t tell you about our relationship. I can’t believe you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

  I hadn’t changed my mind about him, but I didn’t think it was wise to bring it up. “This is about us. I want us to be okay.”

  She got up and gave me a tight hug. “We are okay.” After we broke apart, she stepped back and studied me. “The question is, are you okay? You seem…off.”

  Nothing got past her. “Well, without revealing any details of a murder case, it turns out Rob is a witness to a certain…piece of the puzzle. And I’m knee deep in puzzle pieces. I had to break things off with him, otherwise the fact that we’re in a relationship could get tricky for us once the case goes to court.”

  She pulled a sympathetic face. “Sorry. That sucks. I know you liked the guy.”

  “I did. I still do.” I heaved out a sigh. “It’s complicated. Oh, and I got fired.”

  “What? From the crime lab?”

  “No, from school.”

  “Shit!” she exclaimed, horrified. “How?”

  I shrugged. “Mrs. Cooper flew off the handle at me because of my involvement in the murder cases. Something about deliberately targeting her family. According to Baxter it’s wrongful termination and she can’t legally do it.”

  “I hope he’s right. What a mess. You need something to take your mind off it. Why don’t we take Nate to Forest Park today?”

  “That sounds perfect. I have to go in for a meeting this morning at the Sheriff’s office, so how about we meet at the park around noon?”

  “I’ll bring lunch.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When I arrived at the station, most of the seats in the conference room were taken. Present were Jayne, DA McAlister, Sterling, Baxter, and Amanda. Beck should have been there, but he was conspicuously absent. I slipped into the seat next to Amanda.

  Leaning over to her, I whispered, “So? How did it go
last night?”

  She tried to contain her smile. “Great,” she replied, blushing and stealing a glance at Sterling. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Baxter came over next to me and leaned against the table. “Well, did you manage to avoid the dreaded hangover?”

  “I’ll be fine as long as no one starts yelling,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I’ll probably piss off the DA before it’s over, so watch out.”

  Jayne said, “Everyone, let’s get this meeting started.” She looked around the table. “Where’s Beck?”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning, Sheriff.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jayne went on, “Detectives Sterling and Baxter, before we discuss the particulars of the two cases, I want to say congratulations from the department for solving the Marais murder. It took a great deal of investigating as well as determination to find enough solid evidence to hold a powerful man like George Cooper, but you two came through. I also want to thank the rest of you as well. Without the tireless work of this entire team, it wouldn’t have been possible. That said, we still have another murder to solve. Detectives, I’ll turn it over to you.”

  Sterling stood up and flicked the lights off so we could better see the projector screen on the wall. “To recap, we’re currently holding former Mayor George Cooper for the murder of Vasti Marais. We’ve determined that he had the means, motive, and opportunity to commit this crime. The murder weapon belongs to him, he was in an extramarital sexual relationship with the victim, and he has no alibi for the time of death. His initial hearing will be first thing Monday morning.” He swiped the tablet he was holding to scroll through the evidence photos in his presentation as he spoke about each one. “We recovered the murder weapon, a Blaser K77 Imperial Grade seven millimeter hunting rifle, from the suspect’s private gun collection at his residence.”

  When the photo of the ornately engraved rifle came onto the screen, DA McAlister whistled. “That gun’s easily worth twenty grand. Who the hell spends that kind of money on a murder weapon?”

  Jayne said, “The kind of person who has enough money to pay a team of lawyers to keep him out of jail. We need to have our ducks in a row if we’re going to make this conviction stick. Continue, Detective.”

  Sterling said, “There were no fingerprints found on the murder weapon. It seemed to have been wiped clean. At the crime scene, located on the premises of the former Carnival Cove Water Park currently owned by the suspect’s son, Dudley Cooper, we found a discarded cartridge casing with a partial print belonging to the suspect’s nephew, Tyler Harris. Harris has a solid alibi for the time of death window, and he explained that his fingerprint could have been on the casing from when he used his uncle’s firearms and ammunition on a recent hunting trip. We also recovered a silver cigarette lighter with the initial ‘C’ engraved on it. It belongs to George Cooper, but Dudley Cooper’s prints were found on it, which, in addition to the fact that he had a sexual relationship with the victim and no alibi, was the reason we had him in custody originally.”

  I asked tentatively, “Has Dudley been released yet?”

  DA McAlister replied, “The paperwork took a while, but he was released late last night. Are you people absolutely sure Dudley Cooper had nothing to do with this murder? Maybe father and son were in cahoots.”

  That thought hadn’t entered my mind. I looked over at Baxter.

  He said, “We feel confident that George Cooper acted without his son’s knowledge. We interviewed Dudley Cooper again after his father was brought into custody, and his reaction seemed genuine when he heard the news of his father’s arrest.” I could imagine the hurt in Cooper’s eyes when he found out his father had allowed him to take the fall for his own crime.

  Sterling said, “Also recovered from the scene was a partially-smoked cigar. Preliminary analysis suggests that the DNA found on the cigar is a male familial match to Dudley Cooper. Dudley has no brothers and no living grandfathers or uncles, so that gave us probable cause to obtain our suspect’s DNA.”

  The DA cut in, “Like I told you last night, if you chuckleheads have not been one thousand percent by the book with any aspect of this investigation, Cooper’s lawyers will find it. And then they’ll keep chipping away at it until the entire case unravels.”

  I felt the tension in the room increase exponentially. Baxter and Sterling both stiffened at the word “chuckleheads.”

  Jayne’s jaw clenched. “I can assure you, Wade, that my detectives have this case nailed down tight. There won’t be any surprises.” She gestured for Sterling to continue.

  Sterling said, “George Cooper’s relationship with Vasti Marais is evidenced by phone records, texts, and eyewitness testimony. We found a pre-paid cell in his home office, which he used solely to text message the victim. The only piece of evidence we haven’t definitively tied to the suspect is the handful of rocks we found where he was standing during the shooting. They are two types of landscape rocks, and at this point, they’re our only physical evidence that could tie the Marais murder to the Vanover murder.”

  “I get why George Cooper would have killed his mistress, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what connection he would have with the other victim. What’s the motive here?” asked the DA.

  Baxter replied, “Best we can figure, it comes down to Tristan Sellers. He was present when Vasti Marais was shot, but he swears he didn’t see the shooter. Eli Vanover was at Tristan Sellers’s apartment when he was killed, so one theory is that the killer was trying to tie up a loose end and mistook Vanover for Sellers. We had some leads on other persons of interest, but none of them panned out. We’re still looking for Tad Ogelsby, Vanover’s roommate, hoping he might know something.”

  “That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? I can’t possibly take the Vanover case to court with rocks as the only evidence and mistaken identity as the motive! I’ll get laughed out of the building,” DA McAlister cried.

  Baxter replied, “I know, but it’s worth noting that the blue glass rock, the pea gravel, and the limestone dust that were found at both scenes can also be found in the same area at the Powell Stone Supply yard. Morris Powell is George Cooper’s opponent in the Senate race. It’s possible that George Cooper could have visited Morris Powell at his business, and that’s how the evidence ended up on his shoes and was tracked into the two scenes.” Baxter glanced at me and grimaced. “There’s also something about Morris Powell that doesn’t add up for me. When Ellie and I went out to his rock yard, a pallet of stones fell and landed practically on top of us. It didn’t seem like an accident—it felt like a threat. Morris Powell is hiding something. He clearly didn’t want us nosing around his place.”

  “That’s all good investigating, but there’s no smoking gun for the Vanover case,” said Jayne.

  Baxter said, “We hope to have our smoking gun soon. We’re waiting on the DNA analysis of the blood and epithelial cells under Eli Vanover’s fingernails.” He added, “And hoping he managed to scratch his attacker in the scuffle before his death.”

  “Are we supposed to sit around with our thumbs up our asses while those jokers in DNA take their sweet time? Do you really have nothing else?” griped the DA.

  Jayne’s face was stuck in a frown. “I’d feel a lot better if we didn’t have to rely solely on possible DNA evidence. If it doesn’t match George Cooper and we don’t find any matches in CODIS—or worse, if it belongs to the victim—we’re back to square one.”

  Sterling said, “Even though there was a lot of evidence collected at the Vanover scene, none of it has turned out to be too useful. None of the fingerprints came back to anyone except the inhabitants of the apartment and the girl who found the body. There were two shoeprints collected, which we at first assumed belonged to the killer, but we found out last night that George Cooper wears a much smaller shoe than the prints we found. Most of our evidence for the Vanover case might not be evidence after all.”

  I didn’t like w
hat he was saying. “Wait a minute,” I said. “A size twelve Timberland boot was used to knock the folding chair out from under Eli Vanover when he was hanged. I’m sure of it. There’s a dent in the side of the chair where I found the print. I don’t want to discount your George Cooper theory, but his foot didn’t push that chair.” When I noticed Sterling, Baxter, and DA McAlister all staring daggers at me, I added, “Sorry.”

  Jayne nodded, deep in thought. “I see your point, and I also haven’t been able to let go of how strikingly different the two murders were in the way they were carried out. I have no problem believing that George Cooper could have shot his mistress. He did it from such a distance it made the whole thing impersonal, and he didn’t even have to get his hands dirty. The Vanover murder, however, was messy. There was a struggle. The killer abused and manually strangled the victim before he killed him. As much as I think these two crimes are connected…” She stopped and sighed. “I’m not convinced we’re looking at the same killer.”

  In the silence, Amanda cleared her throat and said quietly, “Maybe George Cooper had help on the Eli Vanover murder. Maybe he wasn’t acting alone.”

  Jayne said, “That’s an interesting theory. Go on.”

  Amanda glanced at me. “Well, um, we know from the autopsy that there was a gun pointed at the victim’s head at some point, so that would explain how someone could coerce him into getting on top of the chair in order to be hanged. However, when Ellie and I were processing the victim’s clothes, we started discussing the fact that he was strangled with enough force to break his hyoid bone before he was hanged by the jump rope. We weren’t convinced that he was conscious at the time he was strung up. She and I recreated the act of trying to get an injured, semi-conscious person from the floor onto a chair, and it was nearly impossible for one person to do. Also, the victim had to have been in a standing position on the chair to have been hanged with that short length of rope. George Cooper is older and doesn’t look terribly brawny, so…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t see how he could have done it by himself.”