Sawmill Springs

by Gerri Hill

  She pointed the camera at his desk, snapping three shots. She was about to open his desk drawer when she noticed the portrait Murphy had just moved. It was a close-up of a young child dressed in a red velvet dress. Nothing about the painting was spectacular, but something wasn’t right. Murphy stared at it too, then moved it again.

  “Got scratch marks on the wall, as if this gets moved to the side quite often,” she said. “But there’s no safe back here.”

  Kayla stared at the child’s face, then the eyes. One eye was dull, the other shiny. “I’ll be damned,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Look here,” she said, reaching out to touch the eyes. The dull one wasn’t an eye at all but only a tiny piece of fabric.

  Murphy took the painting off the wall and flipped it over. On the back of the painting was a cutout, about three inches wide.

  “A camera,” Kayla said.

  “Where?”

  “No, I mean there was one here,” she clarified. “It’s been removed.”

  “How do you know that’s what it was?”

  “Because I’ve seen this before. The images are stored on it and you plug it in to a USB port.”

  “So it’s not a live feed?”

  “Well, it could be, sure, depending on what he used. I mean, if you want to put a tiny surveillance camera up, the choices are endless. But something small like this, concealed in a painting…you’re obviously going for secrecy. If Mr. Foster is the one with the camera, why do a live feed? He’s in the room. It’s probably just something that is recording things so that he can review them later, if he chooses.”

  Murphy shrugged. “Makes sense. I’m not an expert on surveillance.”

  “It’s pointing directly at his desk. Maybe he was paranoid and filmed his meetings with clients.”

  “Or maybe he didn’t trust Lou Ann and he turned it on when he was gone,” Murphy suggested.

  “From what I understand, Lou Ann has been with him forever. I don’t think that’s the case.”

  Murphy hung the painting back up and went on to look at the rest. None of the others had been altered like the portrait had. She turned to look at her, head tilted.

  “So who took the camera?”

  “Better question is who knew about it?” Then she shrugged. “Of course, we’re assuming it was operational. Maybe there hadn’t really been a camera there in years.”

  “Maybe the killer took it.”

  “How would the killer know it was there?”

  “If not the killer, then who? The killer was the last one in the office.”

  Kayla’s phone interrupted them. She sighed. “The chief,” she said before answering. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?”

  “You know very well where I am.”

  “Yeah, so what are you doing there?”

  Murphy was blatantly listening, and Kayla met her gaze, holding it. “We are investigating a murder, right?”

  “I thought you went over everything last night.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?” She hesitated, wondering if she should be discussing this with him in front of Murphy. “You were being respectful last night, remember? We did nothing more than collect fingerprints.” She paused. “Judge Peters did sign off on the search warrant, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, of course. I think maybe I should be there while you’re snooping through his things though. And what’s this about Lou Ann meeting you there? I talked to her myself last night.”

  She blew out her breath, trying not to lose patience with him. “We’re following up, that’s all. Now, I’ll see you at dinner. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

  “Is that your way of saying you don’t need me there?”

  “I think Murphy and I can handle it. If not, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” She disconnected before he could say more.

  “I may be out of line here, but I get the feeling he’s no longer keen on us taking the lead on this case. I think he’d rather have two less-experienced officers on it.”

  Kayla didn’t know Murphy well enough to air her own concerns, but she’d hit on the very thing she herself had thought. But was that really true? He was the one who had been adamant about her and Murphy taking the lead on Guy Woodard’s murder. Yes, but that was before Lance Foster had met with the same fate. Now, it seemed—as Murphy had suggested—that he was having second thoughts.

  “You may be right. Something’s going on with him and I don’t have a clue what it is.” Before Murphy could comment, the outer door opened. “I suppose that’s Lou Ann.”

  Murphy gave a quick nod, then pushed open the office door. “Ms. Riley?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective…I mean, Officer Murphy. I met with Mr. Foster about renting a house a while back.”

  “Yes, I thought you looked familiar.”

  Murphy held the door open. “Please, come in. I’ve got Officer Dixon here. I think you know her.”

  Lou Ann Riley came into the office, and a look of relief passed across her face. “Kayla, it’s you. So glad you’re back in town.”

  “Hi, Lou Ann. I wish we could be meeting under different circumstances.”

  “I still haven’t…” she said, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I know. It’s quite a shock. I spoke with him on the phone quite a bit when I was looking for a place.”

  Lou Ann’s gaze slid to the desk. “Hard to believe I won’t ever see him sitting there again.” She brought a hand to her chest. “Who would have done such a thing?”

  “We’re hoping you can help us,” Murphy said. “We want to take a look at his appointments.”

  Lou Ann dismissed Murphy and turned to her instead. “Like I told your daddy last night, I left here at five. He didn’t have any appointments scheduled. None since noon.” She paused. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Well, Mr. Foster wasn’t always diligent about keeping the calendar up-to-date. He wasn’t exactly crazy about the computer and he preferred to keep a paper schedule.” She was already walking over to his desk. “He was meticulous, though, about record keeping. He always had me log in his appointments, even after the fact.”

  “There’s no computer. Did he use a laptop?” Murphy asked.

  “Yes.” Lou Ann’s gaze went to a spot on the desk that was now vacant, and Kayla assumed the killer took it.

  From the very bottom drawer on the right side of his desk, Lou Ann pulled out a spiral-bound calendar. She opened it up and flipped through the pages, finding yesterday’s entry.

  “Oh,” she said, almost to herself.

  Kayla took the book from her. “Who is Mr. X?”

  Lou Ann shook her head. “I don’t know. He comes once a month maybe.”

  Murphy took the book, then flipped back through the pages. “Got a handful of them. All at five thirty.”

  Kayla pulled Lou Ann from around the desk and gently nudged her toward the leather sofa. “Okay, walk us through this. He meets with a Mr. X, but it’s not on your calendar. The next day, he has you log in the meeting, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have no idea who this is?” Murphy said.

  “No.” Lou Ann was fidgeting nervously with her hands. “This entry started showing up about, oh, I don’t know…six or eight months ago—maybe longer. It could have been late last year even.”

  “Did you ever ask who it was?”

  “Yes. One time. And Mr. Foster told me it wasn’t any of my business and I should never ask again. And of course, I didn’t.”

  “Was he agitated?”

  “A little, yes. But Mr. Foster had a bit of a temper. I’ve learned how to read him over the years and knew when to steer clear,” she said.

  Kayla looked at Murphy with raised eyebrows. They hadn’t worked together before and she had no clue as to what Murphy was thinking. Murphy motioned with her head toward the portrait. Kayla nodd
ed.

  “Lou Ann, do you know if Mr. Foster kept a surveillance camera in the office?”

  Lou Ann’s gaze immediately went to the portrait too. “Yes! Yes, he did. Maybe the camera—”

  “It’s missing,” Murphy said.

  “Missing? But how? Mr. Foster always recorded his meetings. Why, I don’t recall a time when he didn’t.”

  Murphy took the portrait off the wall and showed it to Lou Ann. “Is this where he kept it?”

  “Yes, for the last few years, anyway. Before, he had one in the corner, but he said he felt that it made his clients nervous to see the camera.”

  “Was it a wireless camera, by chance?” Kayla asked. “Did the images automatically download to his computer?”

  “No, no. It had a memory card. He was talking about upgrading to a wireless one so he wouldn’t have to mess with the cards.” She sighed. “Now…well…”

  “Do you know where he kept them?” Murphy asked. “The cards?”

  “Yes, in the safe.” Again, her hands twisted together nervously. “He didn’t keep them all in one place though. Some…he kept in a secret place.” She smiled quickly. “He thought I didn’t know about it.”

  Kayla smiled too. “Can we see?”

  Lou Ann unlocked the door that Murphy had tried earlier. It was indeed the file room. It was also much, much larger than a closet. Upon first glance, she would guess there were twenty-five or thirty 4-drawer filing cabinets.

  “I know,” Lou Ann said, as if reading her mind. “Mr. Foster was meticulous about keeping a record of everything. I’ve worked for him seventeen years and a lot of this predates me.”

  The file cabinets appeared to all be the thick-walled, fireproof kind. Each one had a combination lock on the top drawer. Lou Ann went to one and spun the dial expertly, opening the drawer in a matter of seconds. She pulled out a flat, metal container and brought it to the table.

  “These are all clients, both buyers and sellers,” she explained as she opened the lid. Row after row of small memory cards, all neatly labeled with what Kayla recognized as mostly local names, filled the case. Probably clients. Kayla took several shots of it before Lou Ann slid it to the side. “There are several of these cases.” She then went to another file cabinet.

  “Are all the combinations the same?” Murphy asked.

  “No, but there is a pattern. So it wasn’t that hard to learn.”

  Kayla walked over to her, watching as she slid file folders out of the way.

  “This one has a false bottom,” Lou Ann explained. “I found it by accident one day. Of course, curiosity got the best of me.”

  She lifted the bottom panel as both she and Murphy peered over her shoulder. However, the secret compartment was empty.

  “It’s gone. It…it was just like the other one.”

  “When did you last see it?” Murphy asked.

  Lou Ann stepped back, a frown marring her features. “I’m not sure. It wasn’t like I kept tabs on it or anything. Like I said, Mr. Foster thought he was hiding it from me.”

  “But you opened it up?” Kayla said. “Can you remember what was inside?”

  Lou Ann nodded. “Yes, memory cards, labeled just like that one. Of course, there weren’t nearly as many.”

  “Do you remember any of the names?”

  Lou Ann looked at her. “Your Uncle Ned was on some of them.”

  “Uncle Ned?”

  “Yes. And even Billy N was on a few.”

  “Billy N?”

  “Floyd Niemeyer,” Lou Ann said. “Everybody still calls him ‘Billy N.’”

  “Mr. Niemeyer? The mayor?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Who else?” Murphy asked.

  “Guy Woodard. There were a couple of names I didn’t recognize so I don’t believe they were locals. I don’t remember them. One was a Julio or something like that.” Her eyes widened. “Oh…then of course Mr. X.”

  “Did you watch them?”

  “Oh, gosh, no. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Murphy moved away from them, pacing slowly in the file room. “As far as you know, did anyone else know about the camera or the memory cards here?”

  Lou Ann shook her head. “I think only me and Mr. Foster.”

  Murphy glanced at her, and Kayla knew Murphy was ready to talk about it without Lou Ann present. She smiled at the woman and led her away from the file cabinets.

  “Thank you for coming in, Lou Ann. We appreciate it.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Anything to help.”

  “We’re going to need to keep his appointment book,” Murphy said.

  “And if you could print out his appointments from your calendar, that would be helpful,” Kayla added. “If you could go back, say, ten months to a year?”

  “Yes, I keep all of that archived. Like I said, Mr. Foster was—”

  “Meticulous about record keeping,” Murphy finished for her. “Hopefully, that will turn out to be helpful for us.”

  They walked back out to Lou Ann’s desk, but Murphy went on into Mr. Foster’s office, leaving her alone with Lou Ann. As she waited for her to log into her computer, Kayla glanced at the pictures she had on her desk.

  “Is that Clifford?” she asked, pointing to one. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Yes, he’s still so handsome, isn’t he?” she said, referring to her youngest son. “And not married yet,” she added with a wink.

  “He doesn’t live in town anymore, does he?”

  “No, he’s up near Lufkin. He doesn’t make it back home much anymore,” she said sadly. “Holidays, mostly.”

  Kayla nodded in understanding but didn’t reply. Before long, the printer buzzed to life and pages were spitting out.

  “Would it be too much trouble for you to email this to me as well?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  Kayla jotted down her email address, then took the pages from the printer, glancing through them as Lou Ann finished up with the email.

  “Do you know when I’ll be allowed back to get my personal things? I’ve spoken with his wife and she said, for the time being, the office is going to stay closed.” Lou Ann sighed. “I can’t imagine what she’s going to do with this. Who’s going to take over?”

  “I don’t know, Lou Ann, but you can’t take anything out just yet. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I don’t know who’s going to water the plants,” Lou Ann said a bit dejectedly. “Mr. Foster thought having living, green plants made the office…well, more inviting.”

  “Hopefully it won’t be too long.”

  “Okay. Well…” Lou Ann stood and ran her hand across her neat desk, as if telling it goodbye. Kayla nearly felt sorry for her. Lou Ann clutched her purse against her side and went toward the door. She paused. “If you need anything else…”

  “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

  As soon as she left, Kayla went into Mr. Foster’s office, finding Murphy studying the portrait.

  “Do you suppose a bug sweep could have found it?” she asked, referring to the camera.

  “Yes. But with this type of camera, if you turn the lights off and use a flashlight, you’d be able to find it,” she said. “The lens of the camera would have reflected back at the light.”

  Murphy hung the portrait back on the wall, then walked over to his desk. “So…do you know everybody in town?”

  She shrugged. “Well, my dad’s the chief of police and my mother’s a schoolteacher. It’s more that everyone knows me.”

  Murphy walked closer to her, eyebrows raised. “What’s your theory on the secret tapes? Especially with your uncle being one of the names she mentioned.”

  She really had no theory. Not yet. And Uncle Ned? She had no idea why Uncle Ned would need to meet with Lance Foster. Unless he was expanding at the concrete plant and needed more land. But why would that require a recorded meeting, one that was being stored in a locked, fireproof cabinet in a secret hiding place. She rubbed her forehead
absently, different scenarios running through her mind, plenty of them involving illegal activities.

  “Kayla?”

  Kayla dropped her hand and stared at her. It was the first time Murphy had said her name. For some reason, she liked the way it sounded.

  “I…I don’t know,” she said finally. “Uncle Ned, that’s my dad’s older brother. I have no idea why he and Lance Foster would be meeting.”

  “What does your uncle do?”

  “He’s…he’s got a concrete business,” she said.

  “Concrete?”

  “You know, the big concrete trucks. They pour slabs for new houses, sidewalks, pools, that sort of thing.”

  “Was he a builder too? Maybe he and Foster—”

  “No, not a builder. In fact, Uncle Ned and Lance Foster ran in completely different social circles.” She laughed lightly. “If that’s even appropriate to say in Sawmill Springs. There are no fancy restaurants where only the higher-ups in town hang out, but you know what I mean.”

  “Different friends, in other words.”

  “Yes. And I should really let my dad know about the tapes. This whole situation…he’s been acting weird.”

  “So maybe he knows what’s going on.”

  Kayla bristled at her tone. “Are you insinuating he knows something about the murders?”

  “I’m insinuating that perhaps he suspects something, yes. He didn’t want us rummaging through the office last night. Frankly, I’m surprised he followed up on the warrant.”

  “Look, my father is by the book.” As soon as she spoke the words, she wanted to take them back. Her father was so not by the book. “Okay, that may be stretching it. But in a murder case, there’s no way he’d do something to jack with it. No way.”

  “We’ve already discussed that. They haven’t had a murder here in seven years and even then, it wasn’t like they had any investigating to do. One guy shot the other after an argument. They had a dozen witnesses.” Murphy motioned around the office. “This case is completely different. You and I, this is what we do. The rest of them? They’re in over their heads.”

  Kayla wanted to be offended by her words, but they were the truth. Her father had been a cop for thirty years. He’d never even fired his weapon. Half the time, he didn’t even carry one. The guys? Tim had the most experience. But his experience, like the others, was just what it was—a small-town cop who broke up the occasional fight, investigated a break-in here and there and, on occasion, worked an assault case that, more often than not started with a lover’s quarrel. So yes, they were in over their heads.