Another Chance (A Penelope Chance Mystery Book 2)

by Daniel Patterson

  Gabriel frowned.

  “I met with Detective Donny Greene earlier,” she continued. “He’s the lead detective on the homicide case.”

  “So they haven’t ID’d the victim yet?”

  “They did.” Penelope handed Gabriel the rap sheet printout that Donny had given her. “Low-level criminal named Kevin Scott.”

  Gabriel paused at the first-floor landing. “This changes our unofficial investigation slightly. You want to show me the dump site?”

  “Sure. I hope you’ve brought hiking shoes.”

  Gabriel was known for wearing the same ratty pair of tennis shoes every day at college. During the trial, he had forgone his usual footwear and wore fancy shoes. Since then, he had returned to his grubby sneakers.

  “We’ll take my car,” Gabriel said as they exited the stairwell and entered the hospital lobby.

  It wasn’t a question.

  Penelope followed him into the parking lot.

  “Well, that is—something.” Penelope didn’t know what else to say. She hoped her jaw hadn’t dropped.

  Gabriel’s car was a giant, beige Hummer H2 with dark tinted windows, a monstrosity of a truck. It struck her as funny that the stuffy academic with the dirty tennis shoes and the windbreaker from a thrift store, drove this vehicle. The only thing that would make this more ludicrous would be fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror and plush velvet seats.

  There were neither.

  CHAPTER 37

  As they drove to Franklin, with Gabriel’s eyes on the road and Penelope’s on the passing landscape, they discussed what had happened so far. Talking to someone and putting events into words helped Penelope to sort things out. She was grateful for Gabriel’s presence and the fact that she could trust him with this information and he wouldn’t scold her for her involvement.

  “The robbery occurred early Friday afternoon,” Penelope said, starting with the first event. “Drugs and valuables were stolen. Detective Edward Ballard is working with the county’s drug task force, but there’s no trace of the drugs on the street yet.”

  “Any of the other victims have their belongings returned?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll check with Donny.” Penelope sent Donny a quick text message and then continued. “On Saturday morning, Jacob’s valuables were returned to the Franklin Clinic, but the picture and fortune cookie fortune he kept in his wallet were missing. Then on Sunday one of the perps turns up dead.”

  Gabriel tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Hmm. Did the M.E. give a preliminary time of death?”

  “Sometime late Friday night to early Saturday morning.”

  “So approximately eight to twelve hours after the robbery occurred? That’s a pretty wide timeline,” Gabriel said. “I wonder if the partner killed him or if it was a drug deal gone wrong? But that still doesn’t explain why your fiancé’s belongings were returned. And why dump the body in Franklin?”

  Penelope nodded, but she didn’t have any answers. So much didn’t add up yet.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel parked close to the Franklin River trailhead. Everything was quiet and deserted now compared to the bustle when the officers surrounded the crime scene the day before. The crime scene tape was gone, but Penelope was still nervous. She wasn’t there on official police business.

  The river burbled softly and looked much the same as it had the morning before, minus the dead body. It was a brisk morning by Florida standards with the temperature hovering around fifty-nine degrees. The thought of the murderer disposing of the body gave her another kind of shiver, and the little forest became sinister to her. Aside from the faint murmur of the river, there were no sounds. No birds, no cars on the road . . . nothing. There was nothing obvious to further her understanding of the case. But Gabriel often saw things that other people overlooked.

  Penelope watched Gabriel as he quickly and carefully made a pass through the east side of the river. Even though she knew he was good at what he did, it was still impressive to see him work. He pointed to a steeper part of the west bank. “That’s where the body was dumped,” he said bluntly.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  They started to cross the wooden bridge to the west side, where the body was discovered, and Gabriel paused to inspect the blood trail.

  He looked up at Penelope. “The killer dragged the body across the bridge.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “See these scuff marks in the wood?”

  Penelope pulled out her cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures of the area where Gabriel was pointing. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Come closer,” he said, and she bent down beside him. “See how every couple of boards has a scuff in the wood?”

  He was right. They were faint, but they were there. How did he notice that?

  She took a few more pictures. “I don’t know if the forensic unit caught this yesterday.”

  “I’m sure they did. They’re trained to spot stuff like this.”

  “So the killer dragged the body out here?” Penelope said, thinking out loud as they continued across the bridge. “But I didn’t see any other footprints or drag marks. Not in the dirt . . . nowhere.”

  Gabriel picked up a leafy branch and pretended to swipe it across the dirt. “They covered their tracks. Look here,” he said.

  The area seemed disturbed—as though someone had dragged a branch across it.

  “So the killer knew what he was doing.”

  “She . . .”

  “Huh?”

  “She,” Gabriel said. “I think you’re looking for a woman.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The body was dumped down there,” he said, pointing to a spot at the bottom of the embankment. “Isn’t that right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And when the forensics technicians and the medical examiner accessed the body, they walked down to the water over there.” This time Gabriel pointed to an area a few yards away that looked heavily trafficked.

  “Right. So no one disturbed the area where the body was rolled into the river.”

  “And no one walked in this area near the embankment? Not you, not forensics, not the M.E.?”

  “No one. This section was all taped off.”

  Gabriel rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I suppose someone could have walked by since then, but tell me, what do you see?”

  Penelope watched as Gabriel stepped closer and pointed to a spot in the clay-like mud. “Mud and leaves?” she answered.

  He cleared away a few leaves. “Now what do you see?”

  “Whoa! A heel print.”

  Gabriel had revealed what looked like the imprint of a wedge heel from a woman’s shoe. Penelope took several pictures of the print. She held her foot as close to the print as she could without touching it. The print appeared to be a size or two larger than her own size eight. She took another photo for comparison.

  “She leaned her body here on the bank and either rested or used it to brace herself or gain leverage.” Gabriel pantomimed the motion he described.

  “And her heel dug into the side of the embankment when she did.”

  “That’s right.” Gabriel stood and dusted himself off.

  Penelope marveled at the way he spent moments at the scene and discovered details that may have eluded several trained forensics experts after hours of investigation.

  “Did they find the murder weapon?”

  “They did not.”

  They continued to look around a bit longer, fanning out in a circle to see if they could find anything else that might have been missed. Penelope kept an eye on Gabriel, who worked systematically. Maybe his hawk eye would spot something else.

  “You know, Penelope,” Gabriel said looking off into the distance. “With this Kevin Scott guy turning up dead, I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?” Penelope prompted.

  “I think we should consider the possibility that t
he person that killed Kevin Scott and the person that returned your fiancé’s belongings could be the same person. Maybe even someone your fiancé knows.”

  “I was thinking the same thing yesterday. But I don’t know, Professor. Someone Jacob knows? A murderer? It seems a little farfetched.”

  “It could explain why they didn’t return his belongings openly . . .”

  “Because they murdered the person that stole them?”

  “Right. Otherwise, they would have taken the credit for finding them. It could also explain why the body was dumped in Franklin.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because they knew your fiancé would hear about it, isn’t that right?”

  Penelope looked at Gabriel. “I don’t know . . .”

  “I know it sounds crazy and a little scary,” Gabriel said in a calm voice, “someone your fiancé knows being a murderer. But if I’m right, we’re probably looking for someone with a troubled mind.”

  “Well, I agree with you there. We’re definitely looking for someone, possibly a woman, with a troubled mind.”

  Penelope looked around. Everything was quiet; only the sound of the wind in the leaves was audible. Could Gabriel be right? Could someone Jacob knew be a murderer?

  Gabriel gestured with his head toward his truck, an invitation to head back. Penelope followed wordlessly. She kept her eyes on the ground, lost in thought when a tire track caught her eye. A tire track she hadn’t noticed before, and it ran close to the dump site.

  “Hey, look at this,” she said. “This is a track that hasn’t been documented.”

  Gabriel squatted to look at it more carefully. “Are you sure? Could be from a service vehicle,” he offered. “This is a service road, and there were quite a few cars here yesterday, weren’t there?”

  “I didn’t see any of the cars come down this way,” she said. “Everyone parked at the trail head. Even the M.E.”

  She was sure they hadn’t used the service road in any part of the crime scene investigation. And the track was in the mud. Friday had been the first time it had rained that year, and it hadn’t rained since.

  “Well, get a picture of it,” Gabriel said. “You never know.”

  Penelope nodded and took a photo of the tire track. She would get it to Donny, along with the rest of the photos, and let him know what she found.

  When they got back to the SUV, Gabriel asked, “What time do you want to meet tomorrow?”

  “I’m going to stop at the Franklin Clinic and see Jacob tomorrow. We’ll have to play it by ear. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. Do you have time to make one more stop?”

  Penelope glanced at the time on her phone. It was eleven forty-five.

  “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

  Gabriel pointed down the road. “Do you know if they questioned anyone at the Last Chance Tavern?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I say we head over there. See if the victim was a regular or if anyone saw anything. Do you still have that printout?”

  “I do, but let me call Officer Sanders and have him pull a recent DMV photo.”

  CHAPTER 38

  The Last Chance Tavern was the only establishment within three miles in either direction from the Franklin River trailhead, and it made sense to check there next. Maybe someone had seen something that night.

  They drove the short distance instead of walking, and parked in a space in front of the one-story cinderblock structure. The words Last Chance were written in red neon script across the front face of the uninviting beige building. That was new.

  Penelope’s phone chimed as she slid out of Gabriel’s SUV.

  Saunders had come through with Kevin Scott’s DMV photo. She showed the photo to Gabriel and motioned for him to follow her into the bar. A handwritten sign on the front door indicated that the establishment was open from 10:00 a.m. until 2:00 a.m.

  Penelope opened the door, and the smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer assaulted her nose. The dimly lit watering hole was built in the early 1950s to cater to the farmers of the citrus boom that never arrived. It hadn’t changed much over the decades and it was one of the few bars in Florida that still allowed smoking. It was paneled with dark wood that had a musky smell. A lone pool table stood in the middle of the rectangle-shaped room, with a dartboard against the far wall, and a forgotten jukebox. The more modern upgrades were a pair of thirty-two-inch flat panel TVs that hung at either end of the bar. A handful of customers—regulars that had made The Last Chance their second home—sat at the bar, while Terry O’Brien, the owner, stood behind the bar polishing glasses.

  Penelope gave Terry a nod, and he sauntered over to the end of the bar, dishcloth over his shoulder.

  “Well, good afternoon, Officer,” he said, leaning against the bar on one elbow. “Almost didn’t recognize you without your uniform. Special occasion?”

  Penelope shook her head. “We just want to ask you a couple of questions about the body found in Franklin River. Do you know this man?” She held up her phone with Kevin’s DMV photo. “His name is Kevin Scott.”

  Terry looked at the photo with a blank expression, then at Penelope, and finally at Gabriel. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a consultant. He’s assisting on the case.”

  Gabriel held out his hand. “Dr. Gabriel Pike . . .”

  Terry looked at his hand but didn’t take it. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and nodded at Penelope. “A doc, huh? You like them doctor types, don’t you?”

  Penelope took a deep breath. Terry was trying to get under her skin. She’d had the pleasure before. “Just answer the question, Terry. Do you know this man?”

  Terry shrugged. “Why do you need a doc consulting? I hear the guy is already dead.”

  Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. Calm. She would stay calm, and patient. Maybe a different approach would work. “So you knew the deceased?”

  “Now, I didn’t say that,” Terry said, finally getting off the elbow he was leaning on and shifting his weight to his other leg.

  “Well, what are you saying, Terry? Because you haven’t given me a straight answer yet. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in a formal setting?”

  Terry looked back at his customers, seeing if anyone needed a top off. When he was satisfied that they were taken care of, he turned back to Penelope. “Yeah, alright. I don’t know the guy, never seen him before.”

  “Not even as a customer?”

  Terry shook his head. “This isn’t exactly the kind of place the younger crowd comes to, you know? We’re more of a . . . mature joint. But I don’t see why I have to answer all your questions again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah. Two of your cop friends were here yesterday afternoon, asking me the same questions. Only the guy didn’t look that good in the picture they showed me.”

  Penelope glanced at Gabriel.

  “Don’t you guys talk to one another?” Terry asked, shaking his head. “Some police work.”

  Terry knew how to rub Penelope the wrong way. “Why didn’t you say so in the beginning and save us both some time?”

  “Now, what fun would that be?” he said with a laugh.

  Penelope rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Terry. You don’t mind if we ask your patrons a few questions, do you?”

  “Knock yourselves out.”

  Penelope and Gabriel approached each customer individually, making small talk before they got into the serious questions. In a town like Franklin, almost everyone knew each other, and it was polite to ask about their lives before getting down to business.

  After almost twenty minutes, they hadn’t learned anything new. Somehow she’d hoped something new would come up.

  “Don’t worry, Penelope, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Gabriel said once they were back in his SUV. “This is the first piece of the puzzle. The picture will become clearer in time.”

  Penelope nodded and turned her head t
oward the window, trying to make sense of all the loose ends as they drove back to Gainesville.

  CHAPTER 39

  After Gabriel dropped Penelope off at Grace Memorial Hospital, she drove back to Franklin to meet Jacob for their wedding cake tasting appointment at Ambrose & Sons Bakery. With the convertible top down on her MGB, she tried to shut off the cop part of her brain so she could focus her full attention on her fiancé.

  Five minutes early, she found a parking spot right in front of the building. She waved to Jacob as he waited by the double doors that led to the bakery.

  The almond-colored, two-story building was multipurpose with a shop front downstairs and an upstairs apartment with two large bay windows that looked like they belonged on a Brooklyn brownstone. The bakery sat just feet from the curb on the busy street and was wedged between F.D. Minucciani Insurance and the Franklin Travel Agency.

  As Penelope exited her car, Donny’s number came up on her cell phone. She looked at Jacob and held up a finger to signal, “One moment.”

  “Hey, Donny, what’s up?” she asked.

  “Chance, I got a couple of updates for you.”

  “Good news, I hope.”

  “I think so. First, I got your text. I called the other victims Saturday after you dropped off the doc’s belongings, but none of their stuff had been returned.”

  So only Jacob’s stuff was returned. “It was worth a shot.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “What else you got for me?” Penelope asked, urging Donny to continue as she watched Jacob’s strained expression.

  “We found out Kevin Scott worked at the Chevron station off of East University. The owner said Mr. Scott worked there for a little over a year and never had any trouble. Said he had a girlfriend . . .” Penelope heard Donny shuffle through his notes. “A Denise Wilson. She was his emergency contact. We’re trying to locate Ms. Wilson.”

  “That’s great news, Donny. Maybe she can offer some insight into his behavior. Thanks for the update.”