by A M Ialacci
The wide-open spaces, freestanding bookshelves, skylights, and orange-yellow carpeting that traveled up the sides of the circular check-out desk all supported the strong seventies vibe in the room that was so old it had come back into style again. Shelley Mills was seated in the middle of the desk and was turned away from the white melamine counter. As she got closer, Cleo could see Shelley had a tissue pressed to her face and was trying to control her sobs so that the library patrons could not hear her. Her big glasses were in her lap.
“Oh, Shelley, I’m so sorry about Nicholas,” Cleo said, leaning on the counter.
Shelley slowly turned, stuffing her tissue into her sleeve the way old ladies still did. She sniffed a few times, pushed some wisps of fine brown hair behind her ears, and replaced her glasses. When her tear-filled eyes met Cleo’s, she nodded, lip quivering and ponytail bouncing.
“You two were close, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Shelley answered, voice cracking. “But not the way everyone is suggesting now.” The color rose in her cheeks and she looked around warily.
“Was that Travis I saw leaving just now?”
“Yes.” Shelley nodded again, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “He’s angry because I’m upset.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.” Cleo patted her arm.
“I guess he’s heard the rumors and thinks I’m acting stupid. That people will believe we were…lovers.” She whispered the last word.
“But you weren’t. Screw everyone else. You have every right to mourn your friend.”
“Was he your friend, too?” Shelley asked.
“I suppose he was in a way. I liked him, and he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Of course not. You know, we were working on finding his family. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He had been left here by his mom when he was only two and raised by a foster mother, Peggy Spalding, who is long gone. He didn’t have anyone and wanted to see if he had family he didn’t know about. We were researching on the genealogy sites and had just ordered one of those DNA kits.” Fresh tears. “He was so excited. I mean, he never showed that much emotion, but he was.”
“He spent a lot of time here, then.”
“He did, especially in the evenings after he was done with his jobs for the day and before I had to close up.”
“Do you have any idea why he might have been in the woods last night?”
Shelley looked down and away, almost as if embarrassed. “Well, he had some peculiar ideas sometimes.”
“About what?”
“Said he saw things, evil plans of some of the more important people in town. He was a good man, but he had his demons, too. I don’t think he came back from Panama one hundred percent mentally healthy.”
“The army, right?”
“Yes, he saw combat in Panama in the eighties. When he came back here, he tried to numb the pain with alcohol and drugs. That’s the Nicholas most of the town saw him as. But he gave all that up years ago in favor of his work and his hobbies. He loved helping people.” Shelley began to cry again.
Cleo patted her arm. “Well, I just wanted to check on you and let you know that if you need anything, you can come find me. Nicholas was a good man, and I liked him a great deal.”
“Thank you, Cleo.”
“You are welcome, Shelley. Are you going to be okay?” Cleo asked.
Shelley nodded, taking a last dab at her eyes with her tissue and mustering a small smile.
“All right then. My animals are hungry, no doubt. I will see you soon!” Cleo waved as she turned and headed out the door into the sunshine.
Cleo was about a half block away from her house when she heard Oliver barking his head off. Heart racing, she started running. Does the town’s curse extend to pets, too? They could have the cat, but not Oliver…
When she opened the front door, Oliver paused barking long enough to come running to greet her, and then ran back to the dining room to resume barking.
“What, Oliver? What is it?” Cleo could hear the reedy high pitch of her own voice. She looked past the dog and realized her laptop was gone.
“Oh no,” she said, looking under the table and in the chair. “Oh no, no, no, no, no!”
She glanced up at the built-in bookcase where she kept her external drive and camera stored when not in use. Everything was gone, and the scanner was smashed to bits. She sank into the chair while panicked thoughts flooded her mind. Oliver was by her side, licking her hands and trying to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. His big brown eyes looked up at her with a mix of guilt and compassion.
“It wasn’t your fault, buddy,” she said, scratching his head. “How did they get in?”
She stood and marched into the kitchen, realizing a second too late that there was glass all over the floor. “Oliver! Stay!” She shouted at him just as he was about to step foot onto the tile. He retracted his paw and sat obediently. Satisfied, she turned to look at the back door, and just as she expected, a pane had been smashed in to gain entry.
“Shit.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and called Will Truman.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Can you put him in another room or something?” Will asked when Cleo answered the door and Oliver began to growl. She noticed that Will was subconsciously cradling his injured hand in the other.
“Sure. C’mon, Ollie,” she said and took the dog upstairs to her little-used bedroom. She told him to behave and shut the door. When she came back downstairs, Will had donned a plastic glove on his left hand, although how he had managed it, she couldn’t quite figure out.
“I’m surprised you even lock your doors,” Will said. “Most people don’t around here.”
“Well, I wasn’t in the habit until I heard this curse or whatever the hell it is was real,” she said. “How in the hell do people get away with so much shit on your watch, Truman?”
“You call me for help and then you start insulting me?” The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.
“If the shoe fits.” She shrugged.
“The curse isn’t real. We’ve just had some real shady characters capitalize on a legend. I don’t think our crime statistics are all that different from any other town our size.”
“You sure about that, bud? Because from what I hear, there’s some insane shit going down in this ‘sleepy little town.’”
“We may have had more than our fair share of serial killers, but…”
“But nothing. I’m not crazy for locking my door. Fat lot of good it did me.”
Will said nothing, applying fingerprint dust to the doorknob.
“What does this tell you?” Cleo asked, watching him work.
“What?”
“This break-in.”
“It tells me a teenager wanted your super-duper computer and camera.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“What else would it be?”
“Will. Are you kidding me right now? This is connected to Nicholas’s murder.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Will turned around and held his hands out in front of him, getting fingerprint dust all over her floor.
“Hey, watch it,” she said.
“Who said anything about a murder?”
“Oh, so Nicholas accidentally shot himself with a crossbow? No wonder your crime statistics are so freakin’ low.”
“I’m saying that he may have been shot by a hunter thinking he was a deer. He didn’t have a reflective vest on.”
“And he carved symbols into his arm for fun?”
“I can’t explain everything at the crime scene,” Will said and shrugged. “But a known conspiracy theorist doing something crazy right before he dies isn’t exactly grounds for murder.”
Cleo folded her arms. “So, this isn’t going to be ruled a murder, and you don’t think someone broke in to wipe the photos I took of the crime scene out of existence.”
“It hasn’t been ruled a murder yet, no. I don’t know if it will be. Who wo
uld want to murder Nicholas Stubbs, anyway?”
“You could start with Travis Brenner. He thought his girlfriend was having an affair with him.”
“Shelley Mills and Nicholas Stubbs?” Will turned to face her in surprise.
“It happens all the time! Look at Harrison Ford and Calista what’s-her-name!”
“Do you really believe they were having an affair?”
“Actually, no. I spoke with Shelley this morning—”
“You what?” Will’s nostrils flared.
“And she denied it and I believe her. But that isn’t what matters. What matters is whether or not Travis believed it.”
“Okay, first of all, you don’t need to be questioning anybody—”
“I wasn’t questioning. I was comforting her. She’s pretty upset.”
“Second of all, this hasn’t been ruled a murder.” Will’s hands went to his hips and he began to pace.
“But it was.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Yes, I do. You’ll see.”
“Since it hasn’t, I don’t see any connection between what happened last night and your break-in here,” Will continued, ignoring her comment.
“But if it is ruled a murder, maybe this will be related?” Cleo tilted her head.
“I suppose.”
“Which means we were being watched in the woods last night.”
“You’re pretty good at jumping to conclusions, aren’t you?” The smirk returned.
“Conclusions that are clear as day, yes,” she said.
“I give up. Do you have a paper bag we can get this glass cleaned up with?”
“I do.” She stood and got him a bag from under the sink.
“You could come to the station with me to get your photos from the cloud and change your passwords, just in case. You might want to do something about an insurance claim on your stuff, too, while you’re there.”
“That’s kind of you. I think I will.”
“Why don’t we put some cardboard over this so your heating bills don’t go through the roof, and then we’ll head on over.”
“Okay,” she said. “You’re awfully sweet when you’re wrong.” She smiled when he groaned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When they arrived at the station, Will installed Cleo at an empty desk and computer and logged her in with a generic login so that she could access the Internet without accessing any internal files.
“I’ll get you a couple of flash drives and you can download the photos for yourself and a copy for us,” he said and disappeared behind a door. While she waited, Cleo tried to listen to the goings-on without appearing to eavesdrop.
An older woman with salon-set white curls and pearl earrings approached the front desk.
The desk officer asked, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“My neighbors were arguing last night,” she said, placing her pocketbook on the desk and her gloved hands protectively over it.
“They were, huh?”
“You don’t seem very concerned,” she said.
“Should I be?”
“Well, of course,” she said. “They’re unmarried, you know.” She nodded at her own revelation, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s pretty common these days,” the desk officer said.
“I think the young woman may be in danger, Officer. It was quite a nasty argument.”
“All right. Give me an address and we’ll send a patrol car over.”
“My address is 243 Chestnut Street…”
Cleo logged into the computer and went to the Internet to begin changing the passwords to her most important accounts. But her attention remained at the duty desk.
A middle-aged man in camouflage gear came in and wanted to report that the deer were acting strangely.
“Strangely how?” the duty officer asked.
“They’re wandering around in circles, and well…too easy to shoot right now.”
“You’re complaining because they’re too easy to hit?”
“Well, it’s not very sporting if they aren’t in good condition,” the man countered.
“Okay. Uh… You might want to contact DNR about that. There isn’t too much we can do about it.”
“Well, I thought someone should know.”
“And now we do. Thank you, sir.”
The man nodded, paused, and then left.
Will returned with a couple of flash drives. ”I have to take care of some paperwork regarding your break-in, but I’ll just be over here.”
“Sure thing. I’ll get started on the photos,” she said, eyes firmly affixed to the duty desk. Will nodded and went to his desk. She opened up her online files and inserted one of the flash drives into the CPU. She selected the photos from the crime scene and clicked the button to get the download started.
Another older man came in and cleared his throat loudly. His bushy silver hair stuck out at all angles, and he wore a button-down shirt, bowtie, and cardigan. He was also constantly pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Grantham?”
“I’m pretty sure someone has shot a bald eagle here in town. That’s against the law, isn’t it?”
“It is. Bald eagles are federally protected. Can you tell me why you think someone has shot a bald eagle?”
“Well, I watch them, you see. I’m a bit of an ornithologist.” He paused to hold up the binoculars strapped around his neck. “And we are or rather were lucky enough to have a pair of bald eagles right here in Crimson Falls. You may not realize it, but they have a Facebook page and everything. They’re famous!”
“Um hm.” The duty officer was looking at Mr. Grantham but not writing a thing down, seeming unimpressed with this report.
“Anyway, it’s getting close to mating season and we thought they might. Couple up, but the male has disappeared.”
“Is it possible he got tired of the lady eagle’s nagging and went off and had an affair?” The duty officer smiled at his own joke. Cleo didn’t find it funny.
“It’s possible but not likely. Something happened to the male. You need to look into it.”
“Mr. Grantham, we will do our best. As you know, it is the week of the Founders Day Festival and the town’s birthday celebration. We are very busy, but we will look into it. Thank you!”
Mr. Grantham nodded with finality, spun on his heel, and left.
The computer pinged that the download was complete. Cleo removed the drive and found a Sharpie in a pencil cup to label it, then inserted the second flash drive and repeated the process.
“Tony, you know anything about computers?” Officer Sanchez approached another officer’s desk nearby and put his jacket on.
“Not a whole lot. My brother is the nerd. Why?” Officer Tony Dietz looked up.
“I gotta respond to a call from Trey Garrett who says his computer system was hacked.”
“Isn’t that the guy who’s running for County Commissioner?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Owns the oil refinery downstate?”
Tony let out a low whistle. “Better you than me!”
“You want to head out there with me?”
“Who, me? Nah, I got plenty of reports to fill out here. You go on and tell me about it when you get back.” Tony smirked.
“Fine, be that way.” Sanchez headed out the door.
A phone rang at the desk behind Cleo’s. “Crimson Falls PD, how can I help you?”
She could hear the loud voice on the other end. “I want to know how safe this Founders Day Festival is going to be. My kids are begging me to take them, but I usually don’t let them step foot outside this time of year, except to go to school.”
“I understand, ma’am. I can tell you that the department will have a large presence at the festival, both foot patrols and vehicles in and around the park.”
“No offense, but there aren’t that many of you. Are you bringing in any help? I just don’t know if this is going to safe.”
; “I doubt anyone would try anything with that many people around, and just about an entire police force on site.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it. Thank you for answering my questions.”
“Of course, you have a nice day, ma’am.”
The front door opened and a tall blonde in a mini skirt and high-end heels swept past the duty officer into the office area and right into Chief Chapman’s office. The hem of her trench coat still swinging, she put her gloved hands on her hips. “Good morning, Chief. I’d like a word.”
The phones nearby were still ringing, and Cleo couldn’t catch every word the leggy blonde said, but it seemed she was having some sort of issue with the executors of her father’s will.
“Now, Miss VanEckle, you know I can’t do much about that. If you have an issue with the executor, you’ll need to take it up with the court.”
VanEckle… Cleo thought she’d heard that name recently.
“Isn’t there something you can do? The man is holding my money hostage and acting very unprofessionally.”
Chapman responded with placating tones, something about missing paperwork, and ending with promising to make a phone call on her behalf.
The shrill voice from the phone at the desk next to Cleo was still at it. “Something has to be done!” The poor officer could do nothing but shake his head.
The tall blonde swept out of Chapman’s office, still annoyed. She glanced at Cleo and then quickly away, and Cleo remembered where she had seen her before. Behind the wheel of the Audi that had hit her.
