Murder Mysteries

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  Dave Levers told Phil Winters he took your small hand gun. Phil in a sworn statement will testify to that happening. He also said he was in Cape Blanco that night Dave was murdered. Dave was playing with the little pistol. Phil saw Dave put it in his shirt pocket. Phil left and after that you arrived around nine pm. You brought him a roast beef sandwich.

  At the autopsy, his stomach contents proved that he'd eaten around that time. From hairs on your brush at Dave Edwards house I took as evidence. The hair found on Dave Levers shirt match your hair. Now, this is what I think transpired after you arrived. You gave him the roast beef. He ate it. After that you straddled him to make love. The big old chair gave you plenty of room to place your legs alongside him. While in the process, you discovered your missing pistol. You were fed up with his lies and his romance with Sara Tweet. You placed the gun to his head and fired it. We found traces of a woman's secretion on his penis at the autopsy."

  Silence occurred. Shirley sat there starring at Stacy with her hands folded in her lap. She looked every bit her age and then some. Shirley cleared her throat and said, "You've got it right. I killed the bastard. I'd have enough of his lies and romance with Tweet. Do you know how hard it is to live in the same small town knowing your lover's girl friend is but a stone's throw away? He tells us both we're going to South America. Well, the only trip he is taking is to hell."

  ''Shirley have you ever met or seen Bruce Livingstone the lawyer from Portland," asked Stacy.

  "No, Dave told me he doesn't show his face to anyone but the one's he feels need personal instruction; like Dave."

  "You'll need an attorney Shirley. We have to take you to county jail and go through the procedure of booking you. I'm sure the judge will set a low bail for you."

  On the way back to Bandon the occupants should have been happy and excited that they'd nailed the killer. But, some might argue that Dave Levers deserved what he got. However, the law states if you take a life……….., be prepared to face the music regardless of the circumstances.

  * * *

  A few days later both Rex Rudder and Lou Larsen admitted that they'd killed the judge on lawyer Bruce Livingston's order. They were told the fingerprints on the machete and the blood samples match the DNA of the judge. The killing was watched by Dave Levers and Phil Winters. Phil was just a go for guy, much like a stooge in the old days they said. The problem with Phil was, they said, he jumped the gun. He'd have been paid very soon. The kidnapping was also Bruce Livingston's order. His business they said was extortion and kidnapping. He'd been doing it for years. For their sworn testimony they were given life sentences without parole.

  Phil Winters was sentenced to five years and he was released after three years on good behavior. His dog was put down.

  Stacy, after it was confirmed that Bruce Livingstone was the big boss told both Rory and Ben, with her father in attendance, that Bruce Livingstone was an alias of Dave Edwards Jr. "When I first visited Dave Edwards Senior, a picture of his son was on the mantel. True it was of a very young man, but when I saw the picture Ben had received from Salem with Bruce Livingstone as the lawyer, I almost feinted. I kept it quiet until the two bad guys implicated Bruce Livingstone or Dave Edwards Junior, I should say. Bruce wore glasses and had a moustache. Both easily applied when necessary. Let's see what happens next," she said.

  Flo came in with a fax from the state police. Flo had made copies for all to read; including herself.

  It read:

  A swat team arrived at his apartment. He wasn't there and by the looks of things, he'd left town. A letter or document was found in his printer. Enclosed is the letter.

  Dear Stacy Foreham and her team of detectives. I congratulate you on a fine job. Indeed I underestimated you and will take that lesson to my next operation.

  I had Judge Guy killed for several reason, one he should never had given Dave such a long sentence. Another reason was he was just too good of a judge. He couldn’t be persuaded or made a deal with. He boasted: "I'd give my right arm to get the money back this man stole." I reminded him of that with a message to my two hired thugs who crashed the plane. Nice work on the devices attached.

  I was happy that my aunt Shirley took care of a problem for me by removing Dave from my operation. For that I'll cover her legal expenses.

  My father only needs to know I crashed my plane in the mountains and was never found. He needs not know, but that's entirely up to you. My father was and is a pampas ass. He deserved to be taken to the cleaners. My grandfather made the dairy what it was. My mother ran the operation taking care of the books. My father just sat around boasting. I'm a little sorry my mother took her life. I was going to tell her not to worry, but that's water under the bridge.

  Look for me all you want. I shouldn't say you'll never find me, but it is remote at the best. I've had years to make false ID's and years to stash away money.

  I bid you farewell. Oh, that idiot Rolf Peters is up to his neck in this operation. Nail him if you can. Phil can help there."

  It was signed: "A Vanishing Ghost

  When all had read it they sat back rather astonished. All perhaps, except Stacy who had once again come up with the insight to solve the case.

  -Sixteen-

  Almost a week had gone by and now it was single digits into April. Now that the case was over, she felt a great let down upon her shoulders. Stacy was beginning to thrive on the excitement of a homicide. Moreover ,it felt like, although she had limited experience, going over the top sexually at its peak when the case was solved. Stacy felt a little shy thinking about that metaphor. Anyway, Rory had taken some time off to visit his parents. His father wanted his advice on motor home. He said to Stacy before he left, "What the hell do I know about motor homes?" She smiled thinking about what if they, he and she, rented a motor home for a long weekend. The question that nobody could answer, not even God, was 'Am I ready to commit?'

  End.

  The Next Stacy Foreham Novella

  [5]

  Murder by Stalk

  -One-

  Detective Stacy Foreham was sleeping peacefully, having a pleasant dream, when her cell phone woke her up. Like most people woken up suddenly, it felt like just getting to sleep when something rude like a phone wakes you up.

  Stacy put the phone to her ear and all she heard was: "Stacy, damn you, wake up. Can you hear me," said her best friend Vicki Placer screaming into the phone.

  "Yes, Vicki I hear you; what's going on," asked Stacy now coming fully awake.

  "I think somebody is trying to get into my house. I'm hiding in the closet. I'm afraid to come out. Help me please."

  "Hang on I'll have a patrol car there in a few minutes," said Stacy as she hung up and dialed up Dan Fallows whose duty was the night shift. Dan realized something was up and didn't question why she called. He listened and noted the address turning on his flashing colored lights.

  Stacy called Vicki back and told her a car was on its way. Vicki said, "I told you a few days ago I thought someone was stalking me. You remember Carmen who transferred into Bandon our last year in high school? Well she came down to spend the weekend with me. She's in the other room and I'm afraid to come out of the closet."

  Wait for the officer to arrive and identify himself. I'm on my way in a few minutes."

  Stacy threw on some sweats and grabbed her weapon and such things and out the door she went. It was only a five minute drive to Vicki's house. When she drove up, Dan was not around and must be inside, she thought. She ran into the house to find Vicki in tears and after she yelled for Dan, he told her to come back to the bedroom. Dan was standing in the doorway with the lights on starring at the scene in front of him. Stacy pushed him away and lying on the bed naked and bloody, with large knife in her chest, was Carmen Littlefoot.