by L A Dobbs
He took the evidence bag from his pocket and turned it inside out. It was better to turn the print in. It might help them find the person doing Thorne’s dirty work. If Sam decided to go the suicide route, they could always use it to prove that one of Thorne’s minions had been here after the mayor killed himself. And that proof might be the thing that could help them build a case against Thorne, no matter what route they decided to take in the investigation of Dupont’s death.
Chapter Four
Sam didn’t like the way things were going with John Dudley, the medical examiner. They stood side by side in the basement morgue. The temperature was set on chill, the room all stainless steel and gleaming white tile. The caustic smell of antiseptic and death permeated the air. Sam would never get used to that smell. Apparently, it didn’t bother John. He seemed downright gleeful as he pointed to an x-ray of Dupont’s head on the lighted display box.
“The bullet came in at this angle.” John tapped on the x-ray then pointed to a photo of the crime scene that sat inside an open manila folder. “The angle just doesn’t coincide with the way the gun fell. I had those fancy CSI yahoos up at the county crime lab reenact it. You know they have all kinds of gadgets to do that with. ’Course, there wasn’t even a hint of a fingerprint on the gun.”
“I know,” Sam said. Sam should’ve known that John would consult with the county lab. He kicked himself for moving the gun in the first place. What had he been thinking?
“Right. Well, I have to admit I’m baffled as to why the gun was there. Dupont didn’t do it, so it must have been the killer. But why?” John asked. “Another thing was the way Dupont’s pocket was half out. Like he’d been handing something to the killer. Or the killer took it.”
Sam gritted his teeth. This could be a complication. They’d searched Dupont at the mill hastily before anyone else had arrived. He hadn’t mentioned that in his report.
“Maybe the killer was looking for cash, got scared off when he heard us coming in, and dropped the gun,” Sam suggested.
John shrugged. “Maybe. Seems more like he planted it there.”
Sam raised a brow. “Planted?”
“Yeah. Maybe he wanted the scene to look like a suicide, or maybe he wanted to set someone else up for it.”
“Yeah, that thought did cross my mind.” Great, now he’d lied to John. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Sam did think he was being set up, and maybe that was the reason the killer had left the gun. He never should have moved the gun. But John had one thing right: it was odd the gun had been left behind. There was only one reason—to frame someone. Sam feared that someone was him.
Sam took the autopsy file from John and drove back to the police station. There was no question now. He’d be investigating Dupont’s death as a murder.
Worried about what might be uncovered officially once he followed the case through properly, Sam trudged up the granite steps to the brick police building and pushed the double doors open. Reese scowled at him from behind an old metal teacher’s desk they’d appropriated when the junior high had been renovated.
“I’m going to get back at you all for leaving me here with Jamison,” the receptionist warned.
Sam shrugged, sheepish. “Sorry about that. But that guy can really impede things. I didn’t want to get caught up in an argument with him. We have work to do.”
“He was asking all kinds of questions. Digging into the specifics of what you guys were up to. Asking about private conversations. As if I’d tell.” Reese rolled her eyes.
Sam smiled. “Thanks.” He trusted Reese. She wouldn’t let Jamison or anyone else know the details they wanted to keep secret.
“But I am going to get back at you.” Reese’s gaze drifted over Sam’s shoulder. “In fact, that’s going to happen any minute. Harry called, and I told him you’d love to see him.”
“What? Please tell me you’re joking.” Sam spun around to see Harry Woolston walking up the steps. His sharp blue eyes sparkled under bushy white eyebrows that matched the thick shock of hair on his head.
Harry had been police chief when Sam was just a boy. He had to be pushing eighty. He liked to come in and relive his glory days. Usually, that consisted of meddling in Sam’s investigations, though sometimes he did help out. But right now the last thing Sam wanted was Harry’s help.
Too late for that. The door swung open, and Harry stepped in. “Sam! How’s it going? You making headway in the Dupont case?”
“A bit,” Sam said.
Harry smiled at Reese and handed over a box of chocolates. Sam’s frown deepened. The last thing he needed was Reese falling under Harry’s spell. Even at his age, he was a charmer. Sam didn’t need Reese making it inviting for Harry to stop in every day.
“You ask me, the town is well rid of that Dupont character. Never liked that guy. Marnie Wilson’s the one we need for mayor. And she’s taken a shine to you.” Harry winked at Sam and then took a chocolate from the box Reese had opened and bit into it. He frowned. “But we might’ve gone from the frying pan into the fire with that Henley Jamison in charge now. I only wish the election was sooner. The sooner we have it, the sooner we can get rid of the current riffraff.”
“Can’t argue with you there,” Sam said.
The door opened again, and Wyatt stepped in. He looked surprised to see them all standing in the lobby.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Sam shifted to the left to accommodate the newcomer. The lobby was getting a little crowded. “We all just got here at the same time.”
Harry stuck his hand out. “You must be the new guy. I’m Harry Woolston, chief of police.”
Wyatt’s questioning eyes flicked from Harry to Sam.
“Former chief,” Sam said. “Did you take care of Nettie and Rita?”
“Yeah. They’re very interesting.”
“You must’ve made quite an impression on Rita,” Reese said. “She called the station to put in a good word for the ’nice young man’ who came out. Said something about bringing you fruitcake?”
Wyatt turned red. “Yeah. In order to get them to reconcile, I had to sit down with them for a slice of fruitcake.”
Harry laughed. “You actually like that stuff?”
Wyatt grimaced. “No, but you gotta do what you gotta do to keep the peace.”
They all laughed as the door opened again. Kevin and Lucy came in, and Sam shuffled another foot to the left.
Kevin stopped at the door. Lucy inched her way around the room, sniffing everyone’s shoes.
“Hey, Harry, What’s going on?” Kevin asked.
“We’re just catching up on the case,” Harry said. “Got any suspects?”
“We’re not catching up on the case,” Sam said. “At least you’re not.”
“I might have some ideas that could help you out.” Harry leaned in closer. “You ask me, that Lucas Thorne is behind it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Sam. Everyone knows he’s a bad seed. The way he’s putting up all those buildings. Ripping down trees. Ruining our pristine town. And we all know Dupont was in his pocket. Why else would all those zoning laws be changed when no one in town wanted them changed? Dupont probably saw he was getting in too deep and wanted out, so Thorne removed him. Marnie Wilson will rein Thorne right in, though. He’ll be as afraid of her as he is his wife.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “He’s afraid of his wife? Somehow I don’t picture that.”
Harry snorted. “I know, right? But that Beryl, she’s a hard woman. Known her family for decades. That’s how Thorne found our town; she brought him here. Beautiful woman but hard. Rich too.” Harry’s face turned thoughtful. “That’s probably why he married her. For the money. Her family funded all his real estate development. Good match, though. She’s the only woman devious enough to handle him. Smart—well, other than marrying Thorne. That’s why she made him sign the prenup. She wears the pants in the family.”
Sam exchanged a glance
with Kevin. He couldn’t picture Thorne yielding to a woman, but he’d never met Beryl. Sam tried to avoid Thorne whenever possible. He was a bit happy, though, to know there was someone who intimidated Thorne. Maybe Sam would take the wife out to lunch to show his approval.
The door opened again, and they all shuffled sideways to accommodate Alvin Ray, the mailman. He was dressed in his usual meticulously pressed blue-and-gray uniform and carrying the white plastic box that he used to deliver bulk mail.
He stopped just inside the door, his brows raised. “Well, good morning. I’m not used to such a reception.”
“Morning, Alvin,” Harry said. “You’re looking fine today.”
Alvin smiled proudly. He was known for taking pride in his appearance. “Thank you!”
Alvin hefted the box onto Reese’s desk, almost knocking the chocolates off. Harry pushed in between Wyatt and Alvin to catch them.
“Hachoo!” Harry sneezed.
Reese glanced up at Harry, her eyes wide with concern. “Harry, you coming down with something?”
“Nah,” Harry scoffed, whipping out a white linen handkerchief and blowing his nose. “I never get sick. Allergies. Pet dander. Cats usually, maybe dogs too.” He looked down at Lucy. “You been hanging around with any cats?”
Lucy narrowed her eyes and curled the left side of her lip as if the very idea of hanging around with cats was repugnant.
Harry grabbed another chocolate and sniffled. “Guess I better be moseying off. Wife wants me to pick up some lady stuff at the pharmacy.”
Kevin turned sideways to let Harry get to the door, and they all watched him leave.
“Nice man,” Alvin said as he sorted the mail onto Reese’s desk.
“He is,” Reese said.
“Coming in here always brings back fond memories.” Alvin finished his sorting and looked around the lobby.
It had been only a few years since the post office moved to a new modern building and the police station was upgraded from the basement of the town hall to the old post building. The building still had all the original trappings, from the marble floors to the wainscoting to the oak doors with their etched-glass windows. They even made use of the mission-style furniture that had been in the building since 1930. It still smelled of years of lemon pledge and stamp glue. Some might have been put out by having to make do with the post office castoffs, but Sam thought the building and furnishings had character.
“Don’t know why they put all that modern stuff in the new post office building. It just doesn’t have the charm.” Alvin waved toward the wall of post office boxes that divided the room. The antiques were constructed of solid brass, with black dials and eagles emblazoned below the small etched-glass windows. “Like these boxes. The new ones are just plain steel. So boring.” Alvin squinted over the tops of the boxes into the squad room, his eyes darting to the corkboard where photos of the Dupont crime scene were tacked up.
He averted his gaze quickly. “Guess you guys are busy, what with what happened to the mayor and all.” He pushed his black-framed glasses up on his nose.
“Sure are,” Sam said.
Alvin turned toward the door, his face thoughtful. “Funny thing, though. What was the mayor doing in the mill? It’s not really a place where someone like him should be.”
“He might have been lured there or had a meeting. We’re not sure yet.” Sam had no intention of letting it get out that the mayor was meeting with them to provide information on Thorne.
Alvin shrugged. “Could have been a setup. You know, like on TV. There’s rumors. But then I also heard rumors the only people seen there that day were the cops.”
“We patrol that area from time to time,” Sam said.
Alvin pushed his glasses up again. “Yeah, guess that makes sense. Anyway, rumors are just that—rumors. Well, have a nice day.”
The lobby was silent as they watched Alvin leave, his white sneakers squeaking on the polished marble floor as he swung open the door and exited into the sunlight.
As Sam watched him amble down the granite steps, Jo’s voice rang out from the squad room.
“Are you guys going to sit out there, chatting like old ladies, all day, or you gonna come in here and help me solve the case?”
The squad room wasn’t big, but it was enough for the three desks that the department needed. Jo sat at hers next to the window, her laptop open, yellow smiley face coffee mug perched beside it.
As they filed into the room, she stood and came around to sit on the front of her desk, which faced into the middle of the room.
Kevin’s desk was on the opposite wall. He pulled the chair out from under it and spun it around. Sam went to the coffee machine, popped an orange K-Cup of Gorilla Organic into the top, and started the machine. “Anybody want a coffee?”
“I’ll take one,” said Wyatt, standing beside him. “I like the strong stuff.”
Sam nodded approvingly and made the two coffees, putting them in navy-blue White Rock Police Department mugs.
“That was kind of weird what the mailman said about a setup.” Wyatt took his mug and looked at Sam. “You think this could be some kind of setup?”
“You never know. With Thorne, it’s likely.”
“You really think it’s this developer guy?”
“Yep.” Sam walked the few steps into the squad room. “You stick around long enough, you’ll see why.”
“So what’d you find out from John?” Jo’s legs dangled in front of her desk, and she tapped her heels impatiently against the solid oak front. Their eyes met, and Sam could tell what she was thinking. She was wondering if John had evidence that indicated it wasn’t a suicide. Might as well give her the bad news right away.
“John doesn’t think it was a suicide. The placement of the gun isn’t conducive to that.” Sam hitched his hip on the corner of Kevin’s desk and sipped his coffee.
Wyatt stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Sam hadn’t yet assigned him a desk. The other desk was the one Tyler Richardson had occupied.
Sam nodded at Wyatt and gestured toward Tyler’s desk. “You can take that desk.” A pang of sadness speared him, but he’d have to get used to someone else sitting at Tyler’s desk. Besides, as they’d recently learned, maybe Tyler wasn’t as worthy of Sam’s feelings as he’d once thought.
Wyatt looked at the desk uncertainly then sat behind it, facing them.
Lucy trotted over and sat in front of Jo’s desk, looking up at the doughnut bag perched on the corner. Jo opened the bag and tilted it toward the dog. “Sorry, it’s empty.” She crumpled the bag and tossed it into the trash can next to the coffee maker.
“I’m not surprised. I didn’t think it was suicide. Didn’t look like it.” Wyatt’s voice was neutral, but the flicker of suspicion in his eyes put Sam on alert. Sam made a mental note to be cautious around Wyatt until he had him figured out.
“There were some discrepancies at the crime scene. But we have to do our due diligence and consider all the angles,” Sam said.
Wyatt nodded.
Sam turned to Jo. “Did you get anything from his contacts?”
Jo shook her head. “I hightailed it out the back door when we saw Jamison coming. I figured it was a perfect opportunity to talk to Dupont’s assistant without Jamison getting in the way. But she didn’t have anything new to add, so I skedaddled out of there before Jamison returned. I came back here, and I’ve been calling the people on his calendar. We already talked to most of them, but I figure sometimes people think things over and remember something new. A few said he seemed a little nervous, but that makes sense given that he was having that secret meeting with us. Other than that, I didn’t come up with anything new.”
“I might have something.” Kevin pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and held it up. Inside was a green leaf.
Sam squinted at the bag. “You found that at the mill?”
“Lucy found it, actually. Looks like there might be a blood smear on the leaf.” Kevin handed it over t
o Sam, who held it up to the light.
“Could be unrelated to the murder. Lots of lowlifes hang out there, and who knows what kinds of things they get up to. Fights, maybe. But we’ll see if the lab can get a print off it.” Sam turned and called for Reese, who appeared around the side of the post office boxes. He handed her the evidence bag. “Can you get this to the lab and see if they can get a fingerprint or something off of it and test to see if it’s blood? If it is, have them check to see if it’s Dupont’s.”
Reese took the bag and held it close to her face, squinting. “I don’t see any fingerprint, but it’s the right shape. We learned about this last semester. I have a friend from school who is interning at the lab. I’ll see if I can put a rush on it.” She disappeared back out into the lobby, and Sam turned back to the others.
“Okay, you guys know the drill. We’re treating this like any other homicide now. Everything by the book. We’ll be under extraordinary scrutiny. Kevin and Wyatt, I want you to question the druggies who hang out at that mill building. There was no one there when we found Dupont, but maybe they were there before. Whoever killed Dupont might have been waiting for him, and someone may have heard or seen something.”
Kevin stood and grabbed his keys. “We’re on it.”
“Jo, I want you to keep on that list. Go back to last week. Check out Dupont’s neighbors. Maybe somebody saw someone coming to the house or something suspicious that day.”
Jo slid off the desk. “Will do.”
Sam started toward his office, catching Jo’s eye on the way. Now that there was no question about the direction of the investigation, they would have to be careful, especially given what they’d learned about Tyler. What they’d done to protect his name could come back to bite them.
Hopefully, they could keep anything about Tyler from coming out in the investigation. For some reason, Sam still didn’t want his betrayal revealed. For one, he didn’t want Tyler’s memory spoiled for his elderly mother and disabled sister, Clarissa. Tyler had been a hero in their eyes, even moving in with his mother so he could use his check to pay for Clarissa’s expensive treatments.
