by L A Dobbs
Jo flipped the lid on her coffee and took a sip. “That Jamison really is a piece of work, huh?”
“Yeah, I would have thought with Dupont gone, things would get easier, but it turns out Jamison might be even worse. Thankfully, we only have to suffer with him until next fall.”
“What do you think of Marnie Wilson?” Jo’s voice had an odd tone, and Sam looked over to see her peering at him over the top of her police-issue Oakleys. He got the weird feeling the question had a double meaning, but darned if he could figure out what it was.
“Well, anyone’s better than Jamison or Dupont,” Sam said.
Marnie Wilson was running for mayor. She had the vote of most of the seniors in town, who were sick of all the building Thorne was doing. He’d been systematically buying out farms when the elderly owners died off, and now, instead of rolling fields and mountain views, the town was turning into hotels and parking lots.
“Harry seems to think she’s taken a shine to you.” Jo sipped her coffee with a smirk. “Just sayin’.”
Sam looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Was she joking? Sam vaguely remembered Harry saying something like that, but he hadn’t thought of Marnie in that way. Heck, he’d met her only once. Though he supposed she was attractive in an authoritative sort of way, Sam had more important things on his mind.
“What do you think about Jamison bringing in the sheriff? This could be bad for us, you know, considering everything with Tyler.”
“Might not be. I know Bev a little. She’s a straight shooter, like I said, and we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re working this just like a homicide.”
“I know, but what if …”
“Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m sure Bev is busy with her own cases. She probably doesn’t have much time to spend on this. And she doesn’t answer to Jamison, so she can tell him to shove it if he tries to impede progress as Dupont used to do. That could work in our favor.”
“I suppose.” Jo shifted in her seat to look out the passenger window. “Hey, there’s Bullwinkle. Or one of them.” Jo pointed down a side street where a giant bull moose meandered toward the wooded area at the end. Someone was snapping off a photo with their cell phone.
“That’ll be up on the Facebook page later today,” Sam said. “I’m just glad Mrs. O’Brien isn’t running after him in her bathrobe with a shotgun.”
Jo snorted as Sam turned onto the dirt road that led to Jesse’s small ranch house near the town line. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the house. The grass—or at least the patches of grass that could be seen in the predominantly dirt front yard—had been mowed. The torn edge of the screen on the door that had flapped open the last time he’d been there had been repaired. Maybe Jesse was cleaning up his act. Sam hoped not; he was useful as an informant.
They got out, and Lucy trotted ahead of them to the door, her nose in the air. She’d been here with them more than once, and the place usually smelled like pot. She was probably already sniffing it out.
Jesse answered the door, a wary look on his face. He held up his hands. “I don’t know anything about the mayor.”
“Can we come in?” Sam asked.
Jesse glanced out into the street nervously. Even though the road didn’t have any traffic and the next neighbor was a good distance away, Sam knew he didn’t want to be seen inviting the cops into his house.
Apparently satisfied no one was looking, Jesse opened the screen door and gestured for them to enter the living room.
Lucy’s nose twitched rapidly at the smorgasbord of smells inside the house. A pizza box lay open on the coffee table, and the smell of stale cheese and marinara still hung in the air. Dirty socks were strewn about the floor.
“Where’s your roommate?” Jesse lived with his cousin Brian. Sam hoped that Brian was at work. He wanted the conversation to be private.
“At work.” Jesse stood off to the side, his arms across his chest. Sam sauntered to the coffee table, where Lucy had honed in on a black-lacquer-lidded box that sat in the middle. Sam guessed the box housed Jesse’s latest stash.
“We know you didn’t have anything to do with the mayor,” Sam said as he tilted his head to look at the box from an angle. “But we’re hoping you might be able to help us figure out who did.”
“How?” Jesse sidled over to the coffee table and nonchalantly picked up the box and then placed it on top of the entertainment center, out of Lucy’s reach.
“We need to know who you get your drugs from.”
“What?” Jesse scrubbed twitchy hands through his hair. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Sure you can.” Sam stepped closer to Jesse. “Because if you don’t, you might end up in jail, and then there might be a rumor that you did tell me whether you did or not.”
Sam held Jesse’s gaze long enough to see the fear and anger cross his eyes before Jesse’s gaze dropped to the floor. He sighed. “Okay. Well, I don’t know the top guy who reports to Thorne. It’s a chain of command.”
“I know,” Sam said. “I only want to know the next guy up the chain. I’ll figure it out from there. Normally, I wouldn’t do this, Jesse, but it could help us solve two murders. I know you don’t want your drug supply to dry up, but I need to know who you get it from. I’m gonna find out one way or the other.”
Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know the top dog. There’re layers.”
“Yeah, I get that. Just spill it. We won’t let on that it came from you.”
Jesse looked at them uncertainly, but he must have realized Sam wasn’t messing around. And because Sam hadn’t busted him before, they had a bit of trust between them. Finally, he relented.
“Okay, fine. It’s Scott Elliott. I get my stuff from him,” Jesse said.
“You know where he lives?” Sam asked.
“Over near that new pharmacy, I think. He keeps the business away from his house.”
“Smart,” Jo said as they turned to leave.
“Come to think of it, I did hear something that might help you.”
Sam turned back, his brows raised.
“Like I said, Scott doesn’t do any deals at his house. We meet here and there. Sometimes it’s hard to find a place.”
“I imagine,” Jo said.
“But Scott once said something about the guy he gets the stuff from having the perfect day job for delivering drugs.”
“What do you mean, like a UPS guy or something?” Jo asked.
Jesse pressed his lips together. “Maybe, but I got the impression it was someone with ties to the government.”
“You mean someone who works at the town hall here?” Sam frowned, conjuring up the faces and roles of the people who worked in the brick building that served as town hall. The only sketchy one he could come up with was Jamison.
“More like someone who would have an excuse to be seen all around town.” Jesse raised his brows. “You know, like a cop.”
Chapter Nine
Back in the Tahoe, Jo looked up Scott Elliott on her iPad. “Elliott lives on Hawthorne Street. We should get over there right away before he skips town.”
“Can’t.” Sam pointed at the digital clock on the dash. “Bev Hatch is due at the station any minute.”
Jo sighed, sank back in her seat, and pushed her Oakleys up on her nose. She wasn’t sure what to think about Bev Hatch. She glanced at Sam. He didn’t seem nervous at all. After working with him for so long, she knew the telltale signs—the tightening of his jaw, the tic in his cheek. If Sam wasn’t nervous about Bev, maybe she shouldn’t be either.
But there was one thing that did make her nervous, and she was pretty sure it made Sam nervous, too. “What did Jesse mean that the distributor could be a cop?” she asked. “Do you think that’s part of Thorne’s plan to frame us?”
“Maybe. That would get us out of the way. He could put in his own people.”
“He already had his own person in there: Tyler.”
“Yeah, and Tyler’s not there anymo
re. Maybe he needs to get someone new into place, and in order to do that, he’d have to get rid of me.”
Jo frowned. She didn’t like the idea of anyone getting rid of Sam. “Well, I won’t let that happen.”
Sam smiled but kept his eyes on the road.
“But it could be any government employee. Might not be a cop. We might just be paranoid. Jesse probably just said ’cops’ to get us riled up.”
“Yeah, it could be any government employee, like Jamison.” Jo tapped her finger on her thigh as she thought the idea through. “You know, he’s been dying to get the mayor position. I heard rumors he was thinking of running against Dupont. Now, Dupont’s gone, and nothing stands in his way.”
“Not exactly. He has the position until the election, but he has to beat Marnie Wilson to keep it.” Sam pressed his lips together. “But now that you mention it, no one else has thrown their hat in the ring. I can’t picture Jamison getting his Ferragamo shoes dirty with murder, though.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone who works here in town. It could be someone who works for the county,” Jo said. “Like, maybe Bev Hatch. Jamison seemed pretty keen to bring her in on this. Maybe they’re in on it together.”
Sam thought for a minute and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Bev’s been sheriff for a long time, and I’ve never heard of her being corrupt. My grandpa knew her family.” He shrugged as he pulled onto Main Street. “Then again, you never know who you can trust.”
“Well, we know we can trust ourselves.” Jo glanced into the backseat, where Lucy sat happily looking out the window. “And Lucy.”
They pulled up in front of the police station to see the Coos County Sheriff car parked in front.
“At least Hatch is on time. I hate when these sheriffs get on a power trip and purposely show up late so you have to wait for them,” Jo said as they piled out of the SUV and followed Lucy into the station.
Bev Hatch was short and in her midfifties, with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her piercing gray eyes read “no nonsense,” and Jo got the impression that Bev had sized her up in the first two seconds she’d laid eyes on her. Jo wasn’t sure what her conclusions were, but when Bev’s eyes fell on Lucy, a smile lit her face, and she earned a few points with Jo.
Bev pulled a dog treat from her pocket and squatted to Lucy’s eye level. “Heard about you, Miss Lucy. You’re quite the K-9 cop.”
Lucy sniffed Bev’s hand, swished her tail back and forth, and took the treat.
Bev stood and introduced herself to Jo, shaking her hand, and then shook Sam’s. “Nice to see you again, Sam.”
“Same here.”
Bev looked around and nodded. “Nice place you got here. I like an old-fashioned police station. So, why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve got so far?”
The three of them stood in front of the corkboard as Sam told Bev everything they knew about the investigation. Bev had already seen the crime scene photos, and they discussed a few of the details. They brought her up to speed on the fingerprint Kevin found and what they’d learned from Jesse.
Bev’s eyes narrowed when Sam told her the fingerprint matched the one found on the car at Tyler’s shooting.
“That’s an odd coincidence. By the way, I’m really sorry about your loss.” Bev’s eyes drifted to the desk in the corner. Wyatt hadn’t yet had a chance to clutter it up, and it was still so empty that it obviously used to be Tyler’s. “Weird they never caught the guy and now the matching print turns up. I don’t think that’s any coincidence, do you?”
“Probably not,” Sam said.
“Was Tyler investigating anything to do with the mayor?” Bev asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but he might have stumbled onto something that night. I was going on the idea that it was some kind of drug deal.”
Bev’s gaze returned to the corkboard. “Why do you think the killer ran out through the woods? Do you think he could have been one of the vagrants squatting in the mill? Maybe Dupont’s arrival surprised them. You know, if they were high, anything could happen.”
“That’s a thought, but how do you explain the gun? Most of these vagrants don’t carry guns.”
Bev nodded. “Most of them don’t. Some do. The serial number was filed off. Sent it up to the big lab in Concord. They can do more forensics on it than we can at the county lab.” Bev’s clipped tone showed that she was fast and efficient.
“But why leave the gun?”
Bev shrugged. “Ya got me. Why do you think they left it? And why did the person who killed Dupont wear gloves, but the person who ran through the woods didn’t?”
“Maybe the person who ran through the woods had nothing to do with the murder. Maybe they happened across the scene after, got scared, and ran,” Sam suggested.
Bev pressed her lips together. “You know, that would explain something. John Dudley told me it looked as though the mayor had been patted down—as if somebody was looking for something.”
Jo’s gut clenched, and she kept her eyes trained on the photos, trying not to show any emotion. Mick had patted Dupont down, looking for the knife. Unfortunately, they hadn’t found it.
“Possibly one of the vagrants or drug users looking for money,” Sam said. “Dupont must have gotten there early, because when we got to the mill, the blood was already starting to dry. He’d been killed about a half hour before we got there.”
Bev frowned. “Now, why do you think he got there early?”
“Maybe he wanted to scout out the mill and make sure we were coming alone.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe he was meeting with someone else before us. Who knows?”
Bev crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a hip against the desk. “Now tell me about this meeting. Dupont was supposed to give you incriminating information on the drug situation here in town. Is that right?”
Sam nodded. “Dupont was going to give us evidence on Lucas Thorne.”
Bev’s left brow ticked up. “The real estate developer? Interesting. I’d heard rumors he was into something shady. Never liked that guy. Bit of a pompous ass.”
“You can say that again,” Jo said, earning a slight smile from Bev.
“We never got the evidence because Dupont was dead when we got there,” Sam said.
“Seems like Thorne would have good motive to kill him,” Bev said. She seemed to consider this hunch carefully. And Jo’s confidence grew. She got the impression that Bev was sharp, and she didn’t seem to be pushing the investigation in any one direction. She was taking the information at face value. Maybe Sam was right and things wouldn’t be so bad.
“One possibility is that someone left the gun to frame someone else,” Jo said.
“Who?” Bev asked.
“Possibly us,” Sam said. “My contact, Jesse, told us that the rumor was that the head of drug distribution was some sort of municipal employee. He specifically mentioned it could be a cop.”
“And you think Thorne is arranging to frame you to get you out of the way.”
Sam nodded.
“Lucky I can tell the difference between planted evidence and real evidence,” Bev said.
Somehow, Bev’s words didn’t make Jo feel better. It would be great if she wasn’t fooled by anything that Thorne had planted, but that also meant she might be able to smell a rat about some of the things that Sam and she had done.
“So, you have two other officers working on this, but one is only part-time.” Bev looked around the squad room at the three desks.
“That’s correct,” Sam said.
“That’s not much manpower. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of extra manpower myself. But we’ll try to do what we can. That Jamison is no prize to deal with, either, but the murder of a mayor is serious. If your hunch about Thorne is correct, this is a big case. It needs to be done right.”
“I agree,” Sam said, “especially if one of us is being framed.”
Bev pursed her lips and nodded solem
nly just as the door to the lobby opened and Wyatt entered.
Sam introduced Wyatt to Bev.
“Did you settle things down with Rita and Nettie?” Sam asked Wyatt before turning to Bev and explaining, “Bit of a local dispute this morning. Still have to handle those too.”
Bev nodded as if she was all too familiar with having to juggle petty disputes and bigger investigations.
“I got things settled.” Wyatt held up a loaf-shaped package wrapped in pink cellophane. “Rita sent you a fruitcake.”
Sam took the fruitcake, a frown on his face. He looked down at Lucy. Lucy sniffed the air, disinterested, apparently deciding she wasn’t a fan of fruitcake. She turned and trotted to her plush dog bed and flopped down.
“I might have gotten a tip on the Dupont case from Rita,” Wyatt said.
“Really?”
“She said she was walking Bitsy down the access road to the mill. I guess there’s a path that intersects with it in the woods near her house. She can see the access road from the path. Anyway, she said she saw an SUV racing out of there right after she heard the police sirens.”
Jo’s gut clenched. An SUV? That would have been Mick’s.
Bev’s interest was piqued. ”What kind of SUV? Could she identify it?”
“She just said it was a black SUV. With roof racks.” Wyatt grimaced. “I tried to get her to be more specific, but she said she can’t see that well and she doesn’t know the makes.”
Bev looked at Sam. “We should have her in. Maybe we can show her photos of black SUVs to help her identify the model. I want to interview her.”
“Yes, we should do that,” Sam said. “But Rita’s elderly and a local. I want to be there because she’ll get nervous. I don’t want her to be afraid.”
“I understand that. I have locals in my county too.” Bev pressed her lips together and looked out the window. “But one thing’s odd. If the killer drove away in an SUV, how could he leave a fingerprint while running through the woods?”
“And why would Rita have seen the SUV after hearing the sirens?” Wyatt turned to Sam and Jo. “Dupont had already been dead for a while when you got to the mill, right? I assume the killer would have been long gone.”
