by A M Ialacci
The driver’s seat and front passenger seats were immaculately clean, but in the well of the backseat, there were some packages from the general store. Plastic bags would have made the contents more easily discernible, but with Will standing on his toes, he could see over the tops of the brown bags. “Chicken wire and bottles of deer deterrent. Now why in the hell would she need that?”
Cleo shrugged but narrowed her eyes as the sound of laughter from the shed floated their way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cleo pulled the Mini Cooper over to park on Grantham Street in front of a split-level brick house around the corner from her own bungalow. Will knocked on the door while Cleo held the storm door open, and they heard a voice from inside yell, “Coming!”
Moments later, Berta Hardy answered the door in a flowing pink muumuu, her hair pulled into a banana clip at the back of her head. Cleo had difficulty hiding her surprise. She had expected to see the same Berta she had always seen at the general store, wearing layers of camouflage and hunting gear.
“Well, what brings you here, Officer Truman?” Berta asked, a lilt to her voice.
“Berta, we have a few questions. Do you mind if we come in?”
“Of course not.” She gestured to the half staircase to the left of the living room. “Why don’t we head to the lower level?” Cleo led the way into a low-clearance living room with wood paneling on the walls and red shag on the floor. Gingham curtains hung on the two half windows attempting to illuminate the room, and a brick fireplace opposite the staircase they had just descended was flanked with brass tools. She caught a glimpse of some sort of utility room through the open door in the wall to her right and craned her neck to see more. But when Berta cleared the stairs, she went directly to the door and shut it. “No one needs to see my dirty laundry, do they?” She chuckled.
“Do you do taxidermy back there?” Cleo asked.
“No. No, I don’t. I keep some of my trophies that are a little worse for wear back there, but I don’t prepare the carcasses myself.”
Will cocked an eyebrow at Cleo but quickly turned his attention back to Berta.
“Berta. Nicholas Stubbs’s death is now being treated as a homicide. You gave us an alibi that last time we spoke, but can you tell me the last time you spoke to Nicholas?”
“Oh, at least a week, I’d say.”
“Are you sure about that? Because we will need to check out everything you tell us.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“You had a longstanding argument with him about your deer blind, Berta. His body was found directly beneath it. And he was shot with a crossbow.”
Berta paled. “But I have an alibi! And I swear I hadn’t spoken to him in over a week!” Panic had raised the pitch of her voice. “I would never have shot a human being!”
“Not even if he knew something about you that you didn’t want known?”
“What? What could he possibly know about me? I have no secrets,” Berta said, inching between them and the door she had closed.
“It was hypothetical, Berta. I’m not saying you have anything to hide, but it was no secret you didn’t get along.”
“Like I said, I haven’t spoken to Nicholas in at least a week. Hadn’t seen him near my blind, and would never have hurt him.” Berta crossed her arms. “I think that’s all I have to say.”
“All right, then. We’ll get back with you when we’ve checked out everything you’ve told us.” Will returned his hat to his head and gestured for Cleo to lead the way up the half set of stairs. “Bye, Berta.”
Berta managed a feeble smile and watched them leave her house.
“You said you witnessed an argument between Maeve and Nicholas the day of the murder,” Will said when they had returned to the Mini.
“I did.” Cleo waited, leaving the car in park.
“Where was that?”
“I think it was the alley between the antique store and the general store,” Cleo said.
“Okay. Then that’s where we’re headed next.”
“Gotcha,” Cleo said and put the car in gear.
When they arrived downtown, Will instructed her to park in front of the antique store. She did and then followed him inside.
“Mrs. Blankenship?” Will called out.
“Yes, coming!” A tiny old woman with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun appeared around the side of a large plush armchair, hands clasped together. “Oh, Will, darling! How are you?” She reached up and as he bent down to embrace her, she placed a kiss on his cheek.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Blankenship. How are you? Are you getting to all of your appointments okay?”
“Oh, yes. That young man you arranged to drive me is always prompt to pick me up and drives very carefully. I’m so thankful to have someone like you looking out for me.”
“Anything I can ever do, you just ask, Mrs. Blankenship.”
“And who is this young lady?” she asked, peering up into Cleo’s face and placing a pair of pince-nez on the bridge of her nose.
Cleo held out her hand and said, “I’m Cleo Kemp. I’m helping Will because he has an injured hand.”
Mrs. Blankenship ignored the proffered hand and went in for a polite hug, which Cleo bent to accept and return.
“Injured!” Mrs. Blankenship said. “Oh, you poor thing! Did you hurt yourself catching criminals?”
Will chuckled and Cleo smiled. He threw her a look. “No, I was trying to do something nice, but it seems the woman I was helping has an overprotective dog.”
“Oh, that poor pooch probably thought you were trying to hurt her. They do get confused sometimes.” Mrs. Blankenship patted his arm consolingly. Cleo stifled a laugh.
“Mrs. Blankenship, do you have a security camera for your store? On the outside?”
“On the alley? Why yes, of course I do. We can’t be too careful, can we?”
“May we see your setup, please?”
“Of course. Come to the back. Follow me.” She tottled back the way she had come and Will and Cleo followed. At the back of the store, there was a small office area, and inside was a desk with a computer monitor hooked up to a fairly advanced system. Cleo was impressed.
“Mrs. Blankenship! This is a good system!”
“Don’t sound so surprised, dear. I have a nephew in IT who came to set it up.” Mrs. Blankenship smiled.
“Do you still have footage for Friday?”
“Yes, I have enough capacity to store a month at a time,” she said.
“May I?” Cleo asked. Mrs. Blankenship nodded, and Cleo sat. She began to look for the correct file, found it, and opened it. “I think it was around four o’clock that day. Let me just fast forward here…”
The image of the alleyway stayed static on the screen while various people flitted in and out of the frame, up and down the alley.
“Whoa, I think I passed it. Let me just…” Cleo slowed the recording and then rewound it a bit. “Here.”
The camera had caught the argument. You could clearly see Maeve Witten gesticulating wildly in her pantsuit, and the back of Nicholas Stubbs in his flannel and jeans.
“Stop the recording a second,” Will asked. “There. See her hand?”
Cleo looked. “What am I looking at?”
“Remember when we spoke to her, she had a bandaged hand. And we asked her about it, right?”
“Yes, she said it was a gardening accident.”
Mrs. Blankenship chuckled. “Ho! How bad of a gardener are you that you hurt yourself doing it!”
Will smiled. “I think she was telling the truth,” he said.
“Or at least, she didn’t injure it with a crossbow the night of the murder,” Cleo said, thinking about how she might have injured it with her secret gardening project.
“I think we’ve eliminated our first suspect,” Will said, looking at Cleo.
“Seems that way, yes,” she agreed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Blankenship. You have saved us a lot of time and effort,” Will sa
id, bending to receive another hug and kiss.
“You know you are always welcome here, Will,” she said, beaming up at him.
“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Blankenship,” Cleo said, being pulled into another hug from the tiny woman.
“Don’t let him push you away,” the old woman whispered in her ear. “He needs you. I can tell.”
Startled, Cleo began to disassemble, but the old woman hushed her with a look.
“Please come back soon, Cleo, and we’ll have some tea,” Mrs. Blankenship promised.
They said their goodbyes and left through the front door.
“Did she say something to you there?” Will asked.
“Nope,” Cleo lied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“One last stop before we’re done for the day,” Will declared.
“Where to, boss man?”
“The diner. I’m starving.”
Cleo smiled and stepped on the gas.
The diner was a small yellow-brick building with two large windows looking out on a gravel parking lot. Cleo and Will stepped inside and sat at the long Formica countertop, white with silver flecks, on traditional round barstools with faded red cushions. Four of the six booths were occupied, and they didn’t want to be overheard, so they sat at the counter. The single uniformed waitress placed aging laminated menus in front of them.
“What’s good?” Cleo asked Will.
“I’m partial to the country fried steak, but a city girl like you might not like it.”
Cleo rolled her eyes. “You’d be surprised at the crap I eat.”
“No, I don’t think I would.” He chuckled.
When the waitress returned, Will ordered his own recommendation and a Coke, and Cleo ordered the chicken tenders and a water.
“What are you, nine?” Will laughed.
“I happen to like chicken tenders!” Cleo said.
“We need to debrief. You’ve got my notebook?”
Cleo nodded and reached into her pocket to pull it out.
“List of suspects includes Travis Brenner, Maeve Witten, Berta Hardy, Jimmy Stubbs. Am I missing anyone?”
“I suppose it doesn’t have to be one of those four. There are others in town with motive.”
“There probably are, but let’s review what we have instead of what we don’t have.”
“Ooh, that sarcasm is biting tonight,” Cleo said.
“Sorry,” Will said.
“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s one of your most endearing qualities.” Cleo laughed.
“Okay, Travis I think we can eliminate because he’s got a pretty solid alibi now.”
“Haven’t found his crossbow, and he did have a motive,” Cleo countered.
“Eh, motive is weakened now that we know he’s cheating on Shelley.”
“I think his relationship with Shelley is more about control than love, though. He looks at her like a possession, and could still perceive Nicholas as a threat,” Cleo said.
Will nodded, “True. Still has a pretty solid alibi. Maeve can be crossed off, too, because she had an injury before the murder.”
“I suppose,” Cleo started. “Or she could have re-injured it.”
“I guess that’s a possibility, but it’s a bit of a stretch.”
Cleo sighed.
“What?” Will asked.
Cleo bit her lip. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but Maeve has a pretty strong motive. At least I think she does.”
“Oh?”
“I was looking at pictures from the scene the other night and I saw some…plants behind the tree where Nicholas was found,” Cleo said.
“Yeah?”
“And they didn’t look like they belonged there. So, I went out there—”
“You went to the crime scene?” Will asked.
“Yes, and…” She dug in her pocket for the baggie she had collected at the scene and threw it on the counter. “This is what I found.”
Will picked up the baggie and studied its contents. “Marijuana.”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure Maeve is growing it for Harriet to use for her fibromyalgia.”
“Okay, what mental leaps did you perform to get there?”
“Maeve and Harriet are lovers.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I think the whole town knows but Maeve and Harriet are still acting like it’s a secret. Their house smells like incense, which is what you burn so it doesn’t smell like pot smoke.”
“Or you just like incense.”
“Maeve was ‘out getting meds’ when we visited the first time.”
“I fail to see how that points to growing pot.”
“She had fencing and deer deterrent in her back seat.”
Will said nothing and Cleo knew he was considering what she was saying.
“Nicholas was known for being in the woods and using Berta’s deer blind right where I found those pot plants, and got into an argument with Maeve the day he was killed.”
She waited for Will to rebut, and he didn’t. She continued.
“When I went to see her—”
“You did what now?” Will asked.
“I went to see her—”
“Goddammit, Cleo! If Maeve committed this crime or any crime, you just royally screwed the pooch. You are not a member of the damned force, and anything she said to you is inadmissible and could jeopardize the case!”
“But wait! I wasn’t finished.” Cleo put a hand to Will’s arm. “When we visited the salon and brought Maeve outside, she was ready to tell you I had done that because she knew I wasn’t supposed to. I whispered to her that I would tell you about the pot if she told you I had visited her.”
“And she didn’t tell me about your visit…”
“Ergo, she was afraid I’d tell you about the pot. It was as good as an admission,” Cleo said.
“Still inadmissible. Hearsay. But…”
“But, she has a motive, injured hand or not.”
“Point taken. Maybe don’t cross her off just yet,” Will relented.
“Okay, Berta Hardy.”
“I want to know what she’s got in that back room,” Will said.
“Something Nicholas might have known about her,” Cleo suggested.
“Something worth hiding. And she was missing an arrow.”
“And her alibi is weak. She could have gone and killed him and come back in time for her neighbor to say hi while she let her dogs out,” Cleo said.
“Yes,” Will said, his tone distant.
“What?”
“Not sure I can get a warrant to search her house. How are we going to find out what she’s got in that back room?”
The waitress brought their food and drinks and slid the ticket under Will’s plate. He put his hand on it and slid it out of Cleo’s reach, just in case. They prepared to eat, Cleo thinking about the problem at hand.
“Earl!” Cleo smacked the counter so hard, the silverware rattled.
Everyone in the place turned to look at her.
“Sorry!” she said, and her face flushed with embarrassment.
Will shook his head. “What?”
“Earl,” Cleo whispered, looking around. “One of her courtiers at the general store. When I was in there the day of the murder, he kept trying to say something about Berta shooting ‘big birds,’ and she cut him off every time and told him to shut up.”
“‘Big birds?’”
“Are there birds that are illegal to hunt?”
“Of course. The bald eagle for one, but also hawks, owls, and other endangered and migratory birds,” Will said around a mouthful of country fried steak. “Bald and golden eagles are the biggies though, with stiff fines and possibly imprisonment.”
“Maybe she shot one and stuffed it, and it’s in her back room. And maybe Nicholas knew about it.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to find Earl and talk to him. See what he knows and if he’ll even tell us. I suppose some people might kill someone to avo
id jail or a stiff fine.” Will stood. “Lemme see if I can get him out here.” He pulled out his cell phone and exited the diner to get some privacy. When he returned to his stool, he said, “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Earl was late. When he arrived, he glanced at them and walked to the booth farthest from the door. Cleo guessed he didn’t want to be seen speaking with Will. If Berta found out, he would likely be ostracized. But would she stop there? They were about to find out.
“Hey, Earl. Thanks for coming,” Will said as he slid into the seat opposite him.
“Not like I had much choice, is there?” Earl said, shooting a hurt look at them both. He may not be so eager to share what he knows.
“Well, I’m glad we could do it this way rather than having you come down to the station and make a formal statement,” Will reminded him.
Earl nodded, hands folded on the table in front of him.
“We were told that the morning after the murder you were speaking with Berta at the general store about shooting birds.”
“Birds? I thought this was about Nicholas Stubbs being shot,” Earl said, brow furrowed.
“Earl, were you speaking to Berta about birds?”
“I don’t really recall,” he said and looked away.
Will gestured to Cleo for the notebook and flipped back a few pages. “Berta said something about ‘only eating things she could eat and use the pelt from,’ and you pointed out that she shot birds, too.” Will handed the notebook back to Cleo. “Does that ring any bells?”
“Oh, yeah.” Earl nodded. “I did say that. She does shoot birds, and birds don’t have pelts, see.”
Will glanced at Cleo then back to Earl. “What kind of birds does she shoot with a crossbow, Earl?”
“Well, you can’t shoot the little ones. You could try.” He snorted. “But that would be a waste of arrows. Even with the big ones, you have to be an expert shot.”
“Like Berta,” Will interjected.
“Like Berta,” Earl said, frowning.
“When you say big birds, what do you mean, exactly?”
Earl’s casually folded hands tightened, and he rubbed one thumb along the top of the other. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, Will.” He looked down at his lap for a few moments, scrunching up his face.
