by Carolina Mac
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SPANGLER SAT IN her cramped office with the unopened forensics report in front of her. She peered over her silver-rimmed glasses at McMurtry who sat unsmiling in one of the visitor’s chairs. “What the hell are we going to do if there’s nothing to place her in the truck, Mick?”
“I don’t even want to think about it.” He shook his head.
Spangler opened the report and started to read. “Almost all the evidence was destroyed by mud and water. The lab wasn’t able to get much, but this is interesting.”
“What?” asked McMurtry.
“They recovered brass from the roof lining.”
“A shot was fired inside the truck cab?” he asked.
“Did we get a ballistics report yet?”
“Let me go to reception and see if the lab sent it over. Kim might have it,” McMurtry headed down the hall and came back five minutes later with the report in hand. “Just came in.” He sat down and scanned it. “Fuck, Spangler, you are not going to believe this shit.”
“What?” She jumped up and ran around the desk to see what he was pointing at. “Smith and Wesson .38 special. Mother Mary in Minnesota,” hollered Spangler, “The lab matched it to the same gun that killed Mabel Plimpton.”
“Marg was shacked up with Edgar when we brought that mean bastard in and she had the whole place to herself for a few days,” said McMurtry. “That trailer was searched from front to back for the weapon after the discovery of the body in the yard. Our guys tore everything apart and didn’t find it in Plimpton’s trailer.”
“Try this on,” said Spangler taking her glasses off. “Marg had already found the gun before the search and stashed it. That’s why our guys never found it.”
McMurtry shook his head. “We have a decent chance to nail her now if we find the gun.”
“Do you think there’s any way we can get a warrant to search Gary Eastman’s trailer?”
“Do you think she would have hung on to it? I’m betting the gun is in the fucking swamp,” said McMurtry, “and there is no way in hell we can find it. Too big an area and too much muck.”
“But placing her and the gun at Edgar’s trailer at the same time might be enough to put the smoking gun in her hand and bring her in for another round of questioning.”
“We can try. Let’s take it to the captain.”
SHEILA KNOCKED ON the door of Gary’s trailer not knowing why she had come. She had been in a daze since Gary’s disappearance. Marg had shown her true colors and Sheila was certain Marg was capable of almost anything—even murder if it was self-serving. She sucked in a deep breath as she stood on the threshold of the trailer. Sheila had never experienced gut-wrenching hatred for another human being in her whole life until now.
Marg finally opened the inside door a crack and left the screen latched. “What the hell do you want?” Her greasy hair hung in her face, a cigarette hung from her lips and she was clad only in a t-shirt—leaving nothing below the waist to the imagination.
“How could you answer the door like that?” asked Sheila incredulously.
“Piss off, bitch,” Marg hollered and slammed the door.
Sheila pounded on the door and yelled at Marg. “I want you to give me some answers, and I’m not leaving until you do.” She turned her head hearing footsteps on the deck behind her. “Oh, hi, Arthur. Marg won’t let me in.”
“She’s got herself in a pickle now, eh? She killed the hoodlum.”
“Don’t call him that, Arthur. He had his faults, and we don’t know he’s dead for sure. He wasn’t in his truck in the swamp and I’m hoping against hope that he isn’t dead. I miss him.” Sheila began to whimper.
Arthur hesitated then held out his arms to comfort her. “I’m sorry for you,” he said, “Forget about Marg. She’s an evil person and the police will take care of her. If they don’t, she’ll get what’s coming to her in the end. Don’t you fret about it. Come over to my trailer and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”
“I don’t think tea will fix what ails me, Arthur, but thanks for the offer.”
Arthur took Sheila’s arm and guided her across the road.
I FINISHED UP the first draft of a chapter and shut down my laptop. Rob had gone to work so he wouldn’t lose his job. He was the new guy in the shop and work had piled up in the busy world of welding the day he spent watching the search of the swamp. Nothing had turned up. Now going into the second day.
Lonnie had been absent throughout the whole of Gary’s missing scenario and he still wasn’t back from the Sioux. I tried not to think about him, but it was impossible. Whenever I was alone with a spare second to myself, Lonnie occupied my every thought. I checked my phone for the time and realized Rob’s lunch break was over. I sent him a text. “I love you. No answer required.”
I cuddled up on my bed with a blanket, missing Ted in the worst way and cried myself to sleep.
Thunder woke me and I sat up so quickly my head spun. The sky was dark but it wasn’t raining—not yet. I checked the time. Shit and sugar, I slept all afternoon.
Rob would already be on his way home. I cracked a cold one and started dinner. Rob had eaten barely anything since Gary’s disappearance and I didn’t know how to console him. He was so quiet and he wasn’t sharing any of his unhappiness. Until he found some kind of release, was there any sense cooking?
I peeled potatoes, put the pot on the burner to boil while I fixed a pan of porch chops. Rob would eat anything I made before this happened. Food was food to him. Something he didn’t have a lot of at times through his life. He had never put that into words, I just knew.
A huge rumble and a mashing of gears outside signaled Lonnie’s return from the far north. I ambled to the front window and watched him back the rig up and park it with practiced ease. The pain didn’t quit. It was there every minute of the day and I knew I would have to face him soon. My life was going to hell in a hand basket.
Five minutes later the first drops splashed on the deck and made me anxious for Rob. I listened for the crackle of exhaust from down the highway and thought I could hear it. Hurry, Rob. You’re going to get soaked.
Rob parked the bike, covered it with the blue tarp and ran for the door with his helmet in his hand just as the downpour started. I smiled at him and took him into my arms. “That was close, sugar.”
Drops of water ran down his nose and dripped out of his tousled hair. “Too damn close.”
“Beer?”
“I’ll just grab a towel and then I’m with you,” he said heading for the bathroom.
He took the ice cold long neck from my hand and sat down at the table.
“I didn’t know if you would feel like eating, but I made some dinner anyway.”
“Thanks, baby. You’re so good to me.” He chugged half his beer. “And thanks for the message. That got me through the afternoon.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“The guys in the shop think you’re the most gorgeous thing they’ve ever fuckin seen.” He grinned. “They never stop talking about your truck.”
“They only saw me with my hood up in the pouring rain. What could they see?”
“Enough.”
I messed up his hair. “Ready for some food?”
“I am hungry. I ate all that lunch you made me too. I’m a fuckin pig today.”
“Oink,” I said with a giggle.
After dinner, I poured both of us a coffee and wondered if it was the right time to talk about Gary. Before I made a decision, Rob started. “The lady detective called me at work and said they had finished the search of the swamp and Gary ain’t in there.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“I guess so, but it could just mean he’s dead somewhere else.” Rob shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. I’d like to beat it out of Marg. That’s the thought in my head.”
“Please don’t do that. Then you’ll be back in jail and I’ll be alone again.”
“Back i
n jail is the last place I want to be. I’m happy here with you, Gracie. You care about me and you’re the smartest person I know.”
Right now, I feel like the dumbest woman in Canada.
“Thanks, sugar. That was nice and I’m happy that you moved over here. I enjoy your company and…other good stuff you give me.” I smiled at him. “More coffee?”
There was a sharp rap on the door and I peeked through the window to see a drenched Sheila standing on the deck. I yanked the door open. “Come in. Hurry you’re getting soaked.”
“I got drenched running from my car. It’s coming down in buckets out there.”
“Sit down and I’ll get you a coffee to warm you up.”
“Hi Rob,” said Sheila, “how are you holding up?”
“No hell, but better now that I know Gary wasn’t in the swamp.”
“If he wasn’t in his truck when it went into the swamp, where the hell could he be?” Sheila sat down at the table and I went to the cupboard for another mug.
“The police are trying to figure that out,” I said.
“I tried to talk to Marg today,” said Sheila as I set her mug of coffee down.
“You went up to the jail?” asked Rob with a frown.
“No. At the trailer.”
“How could she be at the trailer?” Rob was on his feet.
“They didn’t have any evidence to charge her,” said Sheila.
“What,” Rob hollered. The veins stood out in his neck and colour rose instantly in his face. “No fucking way.” He ran out the door, down the steps and was gone.
“Shit,” I said. “I better go after him.” I ran to my truck dodging raindrops with Sheila hot on my heels, and arrived on Maple Street in time to see Rob rip the screen door off its hinges and kick in the inside door of Gary’s trailer. Before I could park my truck in Gary’s driveway, a black sedan pulled in ahead of me and Spangler and McMurtry jumped out on the run.
“Rob, stop. Come out of there,” hollered Spangler drawing her weapon.
McMurtry sprinted up the steps and across the deck in record time followed by Sheila and me. When we reached the living room, Rob was standing frozen—staring down at a scantily clad Marg Baker sprawled on the threadbare rug. Her body was motionless and semi-nude. Her lips slack in death and her cold eyes staring upward, focused on the stained ceiling tiles.
“I never touched her,” he mumbled.
McMurtry bent down and felt for a pulse. “She’s cold. Been dead for a while.”
Spangler called it in. “Everybody out. Go on home folks, this is a crime scene.”
On my way out, I glanced around and noticed that the place had been trashed. I took Rob by the hand and drove him home.
“What the hell is going on, Gracie?” Rob asked after we dropped Sheila off at her trailer.
“I have no idea, sugar. My mind is boggled right now. Who would kill Marg?”
“Besides my brother or Sheila or old Edgar or me?”
“Yeah, besides those four.” I smiled at him. Rob was right—the list was long.
Rob shook his head. “I wanted to choke it out of her. I wanted to make her tell me where Gary is or what she did with him. Now we might never find out.”
“Let’s get these wet clothes off and go to bed and talk about it,” I said.
Rob smiled. “You know how to take my mind off things.”
SPANGLER TOOK A cursory glance around the ten by twelve living room in Gary’s trailer and tried to memorize the details. It was obvious that the trailer had been searched. Somebody was looking for something or trying to make it look that way. The crime scene guys arrived and donned their latex gloves and paper booties. The Medical Examiner complained about yet another death in Paradise, but he manned up to the task at hand, did his job and took Marg Baker with him to the morgue. His preliminary cause of death was asphyxiation, but the chapter with all the details would come after the autopsy. He placed the time of death earlier in the day, perhaps around noon or shortly after.
At least I had a clue that Marg was the one who had done some dirty, nasty thing to Gary. This one had me baffled. Rob might have killed her if he’d had the chance, but he didn’t. She was alive when Sheila and Arthur were at the trailer earlier. They both said she was yelling curses at them through the closed door. I need to think about this.
McMurtry chatted to one of the crime scene techs while he waited for Spangler on the deck. She ducked under the yellow tape and exited the trailer.
“Did you call in the uniforms to door knock on both sides of the street?” Spangler asked.
“They’re on the way,” said McMurtry with a nod. “You ready to go?”
“Can’t wait to get out of fucking Paradise,” said Spangler.
They rode part of the way back to the station in silence, both lost in their thoughts.
“Well, partner,” said Spangler, “give me your take on this one.”
“Shit, I’ve been racking my brain since we found her and there’s only one thing I know for sure. She didn’t strangle herself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MY FEEBLE EFFORTS to work on my new book were thwarted the following day. I couldn’t concentrate on my storyline with all the activity going on around me. I put the outline away for the time being, changed gears and started to make notes on everything that had happened in the park since I arrived. It might not help solve anything, but it filled my every thought and some of the details might be useful to me in future cases.
The park was once again closed to visitors. A cruiser was stationed at each gate and only residents were allowed access while the investigation was in progress. Both sides of the highway were strewn with TV and news vultures and their conveyances. Camera men walked the ditches outside the fence trying to get a shot of Gary’s trailer and they shouted questions at any residents who happened to venture outside their homes. My phone rang non-stop. Girlfriend of brother of the missing guy who used to live with the victim. She died in his trailer. They wanted my point of view.
Fuck them. My point of view. It’s a fucking nightmare. That’s my point of view.
At nightfall, the air was warm, but the storm the previous day had removed the humidity. I was relaxing on the deck with a Coke in my hand when the black and purple rig turned the corner at the gate, stopped for a security check and then chugged past my trailer. Lonnie parked the truck and locked it up while Ted ran around in the yard glad to be free. It was a long ride from the Sioux.
“Ted, come here boy,” I called over the railing and Ted obediently ran up onto my deck. I hugged him and the mere feel of his fur caused me to burst into tears. I had missed him so much. “I love you, Ted,” I whispered.
Lonnie came striding over. “Ted, what are you doing?”
“It’s okay. I called him.”
“Where’s Rob? His bike isn’t parked in its spot.”
“He’s working late tonight. He missed some work this week and he’s making up the time.”
“Why? Was he sick?” There wasn’t as much edge to Lonnie’s voice as there had been.
“While you were gone, a lot of bad stuff went down.”
“More bad stuff in the park? I can’t believe it.”
“Would you like a beer? It’s kind of a long story.”
Lonnie hesitated and then smiled. “Sure. I would love to have a beer with you, Grace.”
I fetched the drinks from the kitchen and sat with Lonnie at the outdoor table. He was smoking and looking so hot. His hair had grown longer and he was cultivating sideburns. His Elvis image.
“Marg did something to Gary when he was drunk and dumped his truck in the swamp down by the bridge.” I waved my arm in the direction of the river. “At least that’s what the police thought happened. There was no proof and they couldn’t charge Marg with anything.”
“Marg did?” asked Lonnie. “How would she get the truck into the swamp? That would be a trick and she doesn’t seem too bright on a good day. Did Gary turn up?”
/> “Nope. After two days of dragging the swamp, nothing turned up.”
Lonnie cocked his head to one side, “So he’s still missing?”
“Yep.”
“And that’s why the park is blocked to visitors?”
“Nope.”
He set his beer on the table and concentrated on my face. “No? What else? I’m afraid to ask.”
“Somebody killed Marg.”
Lonnie jumped to his feet. “What? I can’t believe it.”
“When Rob found out that they let Marg come back to the park and the cops didn’t charge her with anything, he went kind of crazy and took off from here on the run. Sheila and I followed him over to Gary’s trailer and McMurtry and Spangler arrived just before we did. They followed Rob into the trailer and Marg was dead on the floor.”
“And Rob didn’t do it?” Lonnie took a big drag on his smoke and waited while I sucked in a breath to continue.
“The Medical Examiner said she’d been dead since about one o’clock that afternoon. Rob was at work and the police verified it with his boss.”
Lonnie shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, my god, Grace. I’m so sorry. You must be upset.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks and I said nothing.
“This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I’m here for you if you need me. I can never make up for the mess I’ve made of your life, but if there’s anything I can do I wish you’d ask me.”
“I’m numb. I can’t even think right now with this headache I’ve had for the past few days, but I appreciate having someone to talk to.”
Lonnie glanced up when he heard the Harley rumble approaching the gate. “Guess I better get out of here. Rob’s home. Thanks for the beer.”
“No problem.” I tried to hold it together as Lonnie hurried across the lawn to his own trailer.
Rob parked in the drive beside my truck and strode up the steps towards me. He wrapped me in his strong arms and held me tight. “The trucker was here. I saw him leaving. Are you okay, baby? He always upsets you.” Rob kissed my neck tenderly and pulled me closer.
