Avenged

by C. M. Sutter

  Chapter 14

  Keith turned off the navigation app. He had arrived at his destination on the east side of Milwaukee. He stared at the name of the store in front of his car—Shorecrest Gold and Jewelry Exchange. The window that faced the parking lot was covered in art paint. Promises and hope were written across the glass, aimed at desperate people needing a quick buck. The lies would come at the counter.

  Top dollar paid, quick cash, gold and silver purchased here! Sell your old jewelry, highest prices in the county.

  The list of lies went on and on. Keith had done his research and knew the spot price for gold depended on its purity. Most of the jewelry in his possession was fourteen- and eighteen-karat gold—far superior to the department store ten-karat baubles. Plus, he’d cherry-picked most of the jewelry, and the three pocket watches were antique. They should earn top dollar.

  Against his better judgment, he lifted the case off the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. He was one of the desperate people the sign targeted. Another sign on the door itself, at eye level, warned that surveillance cameras filled the store, and hats and sunglasses should be removed before entering. It gave him ideas. Keith passed through the door and did a quick check of his surroundings. Two corner-mounted cameras were perched near the ceiling. He didn’t see red flashing lights on either of them, though.

  Probably props to scare off would-be robbers.

  Glass cases filled with secondhand gold and silver jewelry lined the walls of the large display room. To his left and behind the counter stood an older man visible only from the waist up.

  The man sized him up quickly. “Looking to sell something?”

  “Depends on what you offer. I’m not desperate.”

  The man chuckled. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t desperate.”

  He irritated Keith already with his smart remark. “Just take a look, and then we’ll talk.” Keith set the case on the glass counter and snapped open the clasps. He turned the case toward the old man. “You a ten-buck-an-hour employee or the owner? I want to make sure you know what you’re looking at.”

  The man smirked. “I’ve owned this store since 1974. I think I know my way around jewelry.” He pulled his jeweler’s loupe out of the drawer to his left then flipped the toggle switch on the lighted magnifying glass. He held the first gold ring under the light and checked the stamp. He gave an approving nod. “Eighteen karat. Must be from the old country.”

  “Not sure. My mom collected antique jewelry for years. I never paid much attention to it until I went to clean out the attic. Folks passed away years back, and I’m guessing it’s time to move to a smaller home. Hundred-acre farm is more than I want to take care of.”

  “No missus?”

  “Nope, I’m a lifelong bachelor.”

  “Nice assortment you have here. The pocket watches are of superb quality.”

  “My folks liked the finer things in life. There’s a lot more where this came from. I only brought a sampling to see where your prices were.” Keith looked around. “This is a great place. Where are all your customers?”

  The old man waved away the comment. “I have my regulars. The others show up mostly on the weekends. My son handles the online auctions from home when the inventory sits too long.”

  “Smart way to move things. No interest in doing that yourself?”

  “Nah, I like the human contact. I’d be interested in the watches today and those two rings.” He pointed at the items sitting on the glass.

  Keith put the rest back in the case.

  “I’d like to see more of your collection, though.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Keith thumbed the cold steel in his pocket. “Now let’s talk about the price.”

  The old man pulled out his calculator and a pad and pen. He jotted down the purity and the weight in grams of each ring. He tapped the keys of the calculator then looked up at Keith. “I like you, son. How about fifteen hundred for everything? I may do better after I see the rest of your collection.”

  Keith rubbed his chin. “Yeah, okay. You have a deal. It’s a good start.”

  The old man logged the items in his inventory book and placed it back under the counter.

  “Looks like you’re a stickler for detail. You update that daily?”

  “Nah, I usually only do it when something comes in on consignment. I’ll admit, my bookkeeping has been slacking lately, but regardless, I have to know who I owe money to when the item sells. Truth be told, not many people sell outright like you just did.”

  Keith said his goodbyes and promised to return the next day with more jewelry. Five minutes later, he walked out of the store with fifteen hundred dollars tucked in his pocket—and a lot of helpful information.

  Chapter 15

  He arrived at the farm at three thirty. In the kitchen, Keith opened the cupboard to his right and took out a glass. He held it under the tap and filled it with cold water then looked out the back window as he brought the glass to his mouth. The greenhouse door flapped with every gust of wind.

  “Son of a bitch!” Keith slammed the glass down on the counter and went to the patio door. He flipped the lock and slid the door to his right. Once outside, he ran across the deck, leapt over the two steps, and bolted through the backyard. Keith reached the greenhouse and entered. He closed the door at his back. Checking the thermometer, he saw that the temperature inside had dropped fourteen degrees. He gave each rosebush a careful inspection. They appeared unharmed by the cold. With a sigh of relief, he walked out and latched the door. He gave it a tug to make sure it was secure and returned to the house while cursing under his breath.

  The dozens of prize-winning rosebushes in the greenhouse had once belonged to his mother. Many awards and ribbons still remained in the bedroom his parents once shared. The roses had been her hobby, her pride, and her accomplishments. As a youth, Keith often watched as his mother lovingly groomed and fawned over every new bloom. He knew how to care for the plants after being a sideline observer for years. The least he could do was maintain the beautiful bushes until he left the area for good.

  At the kitchen table, Keith looked over his list. He changed up its order for the third time. If he killed the most prominent person first, he might be found out before his task was complete.

  I’ll take out the ones that nobody will tie Kevin’s case to. I’m the only person who knows why they need to die.

  He scratched out the number five and replaced it with a two. He tapped the pencil on the table while he gave the order more thought. He changed the numbers next to the remaining names. They’d all receive their letters in the next day or so. Some could ponder the threat longer than others. That was all. Nobody would know when their number was up.

  Yeah, that order should be perfect, and it’s the smartest way to go. Now to decide how Tyler Rauch will die.

  Keith had the address of the first responder who’d testified against Kevin in court. Like the others, Rauch thought Kevin was of sound mind and should be held responsible for his actions. Keith remembered the words Tyler used that day as he sat on the witness stand. Upon his arrival after the 911 call, Tyler said Kevin seemed indifferent and unemotional. His eyes were empty, the first responder said, just like those of a stone-cold killer. His opinion was that the teenager felt no remorse or grief. He should be sent to prison for life, like any other murderer.

  Keith typed “Tyler Rauch” into the search bar of the most popular social media site. Several people by that name popped up. He was interested in the third one down—the man who lived in Washburn County, Wisconsin.

  “There you are, you son of a bitch.” Keith clicked on his profile. It showed Tyler’s place of employment was Gold Star Ambulance Service, located in Slinger. He went back to Tyler’s page and clicked on the pictures. Since they weren’t friends on the site, only a few photos popped up. He found what he needed, though—Tyler proudly standing next to a new red Toyota Tundra with a title in his hand. “Bingo. Got you dead to rights.” Keith locke
d the front door as he headed out. He’d make whatever stops necessary until he spotted that truck, then he’d watch from a distance. Tyler Rauch would be next to die.

  Chapter 16

  Billings and I were back at the sheriff’s office by five twenty. Billings parked, and we exited the cruiser.

  “Guess Kate and Clayton aren’t back yet,” I said as we passed a void in the parking spaces.

  We took the stairs, had a minute or two of small talk with Mary Davidson—one of our longtime desk deputies—then I punched in the code on the security door. As we entered the bull pen, I saw Jack at his desk. His face, inches from the computer monitor, looked scrunched, as if he was studying something in great detail or just needed to invest in a pair of strong reading glasses.

  We walked in, and he turned his head then checked the time.

  Jack rose from his desk and leaned against the doorframe. “Any sign of Clayton and Kate?”

  “Not yet. Cruiser three’s spot was empty when we pulled in,” Billings said.

  “Okay, we’ll wait for them. I don’t want to conduct the same meeting twice.”

  I walked to the coffeemaker and eyed the inch of coffee that remained in the carafe.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I poured it down the drain and started a new pot.

  We heard the different-toned beeps at the door. Somebody was punching in the code.

  “Sounds like the troops have arrived,” Billings said.

  “Good. Once the coffee is ready, we’ll get started,” Jack said.

  Kate and Clayton passed through the security door and headed to the gun safe. They both removed their shoulder harnesses and placed them in their designated compartment. Kate rolled her shoulders and walked to her desk. Clayton took his seat too.

  Jack gave them a nod. “We’re just waiting on the coffee. Get your notes together.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll head into the conference room in five.” He returned to his desk, and I followed him into his office.

  He looked back at me. “Amber, what’s up?”

  “I noticed you squinting when we walked in, boss.”

  “Yeah, tired eyes, that’s all. I’ve been staring at this damn screen for hours.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Invest in some super magnifying readers?”

  “Um, sort of, but not actually necessary unless you really do have bad eyes. There’s a trick I often use when my eyes are overworked.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  I walked to his computer and leaned over the screen. I pointed at the lower right corner of his monitor. “See that bar with a plus on the right and the minus sign on the left?”

  “I do now.”

  “Go ahead and move it to the plus side a bit more. Right now your setting is at one hundred percent—too small of text if you ask me. I’d go a good one hundred and eighty percent. That way you don’t have to sit with your nose against the screen. Lean back in your chair and relax. You’ll be able to see the words just fine.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Jack gave the bar a push to the right, adjusted himself in his chair, and leaned back. “It’s like I just got a new set of eyes. I can read everything perfectly.”

  “Yep, it’ll save your sight and probably reduce headaches too.”

  “Thanks, Amber.”

  As I walked out, I heard him say “Wow” twice.

  Kate cupped her hand and whispered as I passed her desk. “Kiss ass.”

  I grinned. “You would have done the same thing, I just beat you to it. Come and help me with the coffee.”

  Minutes later, Jack walked out of his office. “Okay, grab whatever you need. Let’s go.” He carried a few folders, paper, and his coffee cup. Jack didn’t like using the Styrofoam cups we had in the back. He preferred the one he had been using for years, chips and all.

  We gathered in the conference room. I placed the carafe on the table, and Kate followed behind me with the cups and condiment basket, filled with sugar, powdered creamer, plastic spoons, and a stack of napkins. We took our usual seats with Jack at the head of the table, facing us and the door.

  Jack shuffled papers until we were all ready with eyes on him. “Okay, Amber, you and Billings go first.”

  “Sure thing, boss. Tech gave us a printout of seventeen names that were on Leslie’s contact list. We eliminated four, which included several neighbors and Tracy.”

  “So you called all thirteen?”

  “We did,” Billings said. “Turns out she had three siblings who were also on her list. Leslie’s maiden name was Waters. Two are sisters and one is a brother. The parents passed away years back. Apparently, Tracy has already been in touch with them, and all three and their spouses are making plans to come to North Bend.”

  Jack tapped the table. “They can’t set up a funeral yet.”

  Billings nodded. “At this point, they’re only coming to support Tracy. We found the handyman and the lawn care guy. They were local, so we dropped in on both of them.”

  Jack began writing. “And the outcome was?”

  The handyman, a Mike Stark, said he hadn’t seen Leslie since he did some paint work on the outside of her house in August. Guess it was just some scraping and touching up on the fascia—a two-day job. He said they made the usual small talk and planned a few repairs for spring. He even showed us a copy of the invoice for that job.”

  “Hmm. And the lawn care guy?”

  “He was there a week ago cleaning up the fall leaves. He said she wasn’t home at the time so he hadn’t seen her. According to him, they talked on occasion but only about spring feeding and tree trimming, no different than any other client.”

  “And nothing seemed off with either of them?”

  Billings looked at me, and I shrugged and shook my head.

  “Okay, and the other names on the list?”

  “Friends, and several being lifelong friends that Tracy had already contacted as well. They all seemed devastated and didn’t know a soul who had anything bad to say about Leslie.”

  Jack sighed. “She sounds like a saint.” He made a note to himself. “We still need to check in with her old coworkers too.” He faced Kate and Clayton. “Okay, your turn.”

  Kate began. “We stopped at the post office and spoke with the postmaster. As soon as we told her that we needed to speak with the carrier who worked the route in the Hawk’s Nest neighborhood, her whole demeanor changed.”

  “How so?” Jack took a sip of his coffee, making sure the cup’s large chip was opposite his mouth.

  “She went pale. She said one of her counter clerks asked permission to give out the route delivery time for that neighborhood earlier today. Somebody was on the phone and wanted to know when the carrier delivered mail to 4833 Rockridge Circle. The man told the counter clerk that he had a gift for the carrier. The postmaster said she thought it a bit odd but not unusual. People often give the carriers gifts.”

  “Did she say what time the man called, and did she know for sure it was a man?”

  “She said the counter clerk addressed the caller as a man and that he called at nine o’clock.”

  “That’s good information. Did you get a chance to talk with either of them?”

  Clayton took over. “We spoke to the carrier. His route was over with, and the postmaster called him at home. She said he should expect a visit from us.”

  “What about the clerk, and what is her name?” Jack picked up his pen.

  Clayton flipped the page of his notepad. “Her name is Valerie Bingham. She was also done for the day, and we spoke to her over the phone. She said the caller sounded like an average man with an average voice. She assumed by the conversation that he was the homeowner, or at least that’s what he led her to believe.”

  “But you spoke to the carrier in person?”

  Kate responded. “Yes, he lives right in town. He said it takes about twenty minutes to deliver the mail on Rockridge Circle. O
ccasionally it takes longer if he stops to gab with a homeowner.”

  “Tell me he gabbed with Leslie this morning.”

  Kate smiled. “Actually he did, but it was just the usual pleasantries. He handed her the mail, she tucked it under her arm, and they chatted for a few minutes. She told him she had lunch and shopping plans with her daughter. They briefly talked about yesterday’s football game, then they parted ways.”

  “And he got there when?”

  “He thought it was around ten fifteen.”

  Jack rubbed his chin. “So the killer had to be watching from somewhere to know that the mailman had already dropped off the letter and that he had left the neighborhood.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said. “Meaning the killer didn’t want to be seen or disturbed.”

  “The carrier didn’t notice anyone walking or a strange car parked along the curb?” Jack asked.

  Kate responded. “He said he didn’t notice anything unusual, but in his defense, he was just doing his job. There wouldn’t have been a reason for him to pay attention to anything else.”

  Jack frowned. “Yeah, I understand. Okay, so what we do know is that the killer was lying in wait and watching from somewhere nearby. Anything on the roses?”

  Kate pulled out the list of places they’d called. “We spoke to every florist—four of them— every garden center—two of them—and every grocery store that has a flower shop inside—three of them. Nobody sold a dozen red roses that weren’t mixed in with a centerpiece except Millards. One order came in this morning for a dozen long-stemmed red roses to be delivered to St. Joe’s. A man ordered them over the phone for his wife, who just had a baby. Unfortunately, the husband was on a business trip when the wife went into premature labor and gave birth. We crossed him off the list.”