Accused: (Mystery Series) (My Murder Mysteries #3)

by H. B. Rae

  Later that day, the post-mortem came back, and inside it, it revealed that the woman probably died somewhere between the years of 1980 and 1990. That was useful to a certain extent, because if I were to find a lead, I could relate back to this to help identify the woman. However, it did not help me get any closer to identifying the woman at the moment, which was the most important thing. All I needed was one person to come forward and say that they knew this mystery woman. Someone did. I was certain of that. Someone had to know the details about this woman's disappearance. The report also said that she was probably between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. That narrowed it down slightly, but it still did not help much. I was going to go and use the missing person's database to see if I could get a lead on this, but I asked Mitchell (not the boss, the other Mitchell) to go instead, as I was too busy analyzing the report.

  The report also contained the grisly details of the woman's death: where on the body she was stabbed, how deep the wounds were, what type of instrument was used, and so on. It proved to be of little use, even though I now knew exactly how she died. I had previously deduced that the person who killed her was a psychopath, though a very clever one, as they had gotten away with it – up until now, at least. I hoped this person was still alive so that they could be punished for what they did. No-one at all deserved to die that way.

  Mitchell returned with several files full of details of women between the ages of twenty and thirty-five who went missing between the years of 1980 and 1990 in North Dakota. Finally things were narrowed down a bit, as there were only thirteen reported missing people. For the first time I was beginning to get quite excited, since I now had pictures of people and different pieces of information to go on. Sadly, none of the files gave any details about a woman in a pink dress – some had been out at parties the night they vanished, and others were at home, so I was able to narrow things down even further, but I still had seven women who were on the suspect list for being this woman. I was close, but sadly, not close enough, as I could not come up with a convincing argument, with evidence, that any of the women in the files was actually the dead woman. I assumed that most of these women were dead themselves, but I knew deep down that one of these women was the woman we had found. Although it was possible that the woman was not reported missing, it was improbable, as there was likely to be someone who noticed her disappearance and reported it.

  Seeing nowhere else to go, I decided to launch a public appeal in order to see if anyone knew this woman. This was probably (and hopefully) going to be the most challenging part of the case. The television and radio companies stormed in with this story, and they were eager to report the discovery of this mystery woman. They gave details of where she was found, and the pink dress that she was wearing. I was hoping that someone would be able to recall the pink dress, even though there was no mention of it in any of the missing person's files. I knew that it was a long shot, but worth a try, as I had nothing at all to lose.

  I was extremely lucky, because the very next day a visitor arrived at the station wanting to talk to me about the missing woman.

  "Hello," I said to her as she walked in.

  She was a small woman, aged around fifty, and she wore cheap clothes and she was quite plump. Her hair was greasy, her face full of spots, but she approached me in a friendly manner.

  "My name is Lesley Kurtis," she said, quite nervous about talking to me.

  "I'm Tammy Williams," I said, eager to see what this woman knew. "I understand that you have some information about the woman we found?"

  "Yes," Lesley replied, taking a seat. "And I think it might be very useful to you."

  "Go on," I said.

  "Well, I think the missing woman was Eve Roberts, if you don't know that already."

  I remembered the name from one of the missing person's files. She had gone out for a party that night, but the person who reported her could not recall what she was wearing.

  "And why do you think that?" I asked Lesley.

  "Because she was wearing the pink dress the night she went missing. I remember it. I am...was a very good friend of Eve’s, and when she went missing I knew she'd been murdered. It was just so unusual of her," Lesley replied in a fairly shaky voice.

  I was beginning to get very excited now.

  "And why did you not say any of this before?" I asked her.

  "Because one of my other friends said she sorted it out. She said she told the police everything and that there was no need to speak to them. I've only just realized that she never mentioned the dress. I know it's Eve. It has to be," replied Lesley, getting fairly excited.

  "Right, and can you tell me about the time she went missing?" I asked her.

  "I can't really remember," she said.

  "Can you remember the last time you saw her?"

  "Well, we were at the party just a few miles away from here, in a club. A lot of people were quite drunk. Eve went out for a cigarette, and that was that. She never came back in."

  Lesley started to cry now.

  "It's O.k.," I said, reassuring her.

  I thanked her for the help she gave me, and gave her the contact details should she ever think of anything else. I now had the name of the victim, because Eve went missing in 1988, and she was twenty-eight years old. In a way, come to think of it, she looked quite a lot like the skeleton. I now had the name of the victim, and I prepared for the rest of the journey ahead.

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B018KJVL4Q

  ***

  Sample of Wicked by H. B. Rae

  http://www.amazon.com/Romantic-Thriller-Wicked-Suspense-Mystery-ebook/dp/B016YGYTUA

  Chapter 1

  "How old were you when you learned there's no Santa?" Devin McGee asked while tossing long strands of silver tinsel up in the air to cover the top branches of the Christmas tree. He remembered the tree seeming to be so colossal when he was a little boy. Just like the Christmas holiday itself. It was all consuming and he loved it even now that he was nineteen years old.

  "There's no Santa?" Jessica said, shocked, her hand to her throat and a grimace on her face. "Are you kidding? I still believe in Santa." she said, smiling down at the last batch of sugar cookies she was about to shovel into the oven.

  "Did your parents tell you or did you find out...on the streets?" Devin looked at her through squinty eyes.

  "Yeah, the word around town was hey man, this Santa dude, total figment of someone's imagination. Not even real. Every parent in the world is in on the conspiracy."

  Devin began to laugh as he continued overloading the tree with the sparkling strings. He looked outside and saw the snow was still falling. It wasn't hard. Not by Alaskan standards. If they got three or four inches that would be a nice start to the holiday season and no need to put the chains on the wheels of his car just yet. All Devin wanted was the old Dodge Neon to just last one more winter. Just one more and then he'd be off to Anchorage to college. The town had everything a young man needed to survive within walking distance, even in the middle of winter. The convenience store, Laundromat, sporting goods were all two blocks away.

  "I think you missed a spot." Devin's father Roland said, pointing a thick and calloused finger toward a bare spot at what would be at the tree's belly. He was laying on the couch wearing a warm flannel shirt, jeans and white socks on his feet that were propped up on the arm rest opposite his head.

  Devin gasped and covered the spot.

  "That was close. Thanks, dad." Devin said, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow.

  "Okay, you need to hurry up with that tree," Jessica ordered, "Because these cookies are just about cooled off and we need to start adding the frosting and sprinkles on them."

  "How many do we get to eat?" Roland asked loudly without lifting his head from the pillow tucked behind it.

  "Well, Mr. McGee, I've allotted each of us two cookies out of the three dozen and the rest will be brought over to the Shaky Hands...

  "It's Shady Sands, Jess. Shady Sands Retireme
nt Community." Devin corrected, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

  "That's what I meant." She said, laughing at herself and Devin's response. "And don't act all innocent over there. You call it shaky hands, too."

  "I have never done such a rude and insensitive thing. Just stop your lying." Devin teased with a straight face making Jessica laugh out loud. He did that to her all the time. Ever since kindergarten where they first met, Devin had always been able to make Jessica laugh sometimes without even saying a word but just looking at her, no expression but blank on his face. She was his best audience.

  The chemistry between them was a double edged sword to say the least. They were inseparable from the word go and never failed to stop and thank God or fate or the universe that they lived walking distance from each other's house. They had been together through the getting bullied phases of grade school, the awkward and puberty stricken chapters of middle school and finally the honeymoon of completing high school. But, this bond also saw them in plenty of detentions together, a few write-ups at the Brementown Theater where they both worked, and without dates to homecomings, mixers or prom.

  "Invite an outsider?" Jessica would say to Devin whenever he brought up a dance that was in their future. Shaking her head as if he had just asked her to hold a live scorpion she'd look up at his handsome face with her blue eyes and tuck her brown hair behind her ears. "I'd rather eat glass."

  Devin watched Jessica as she set the timer for the cookies and arranged the frosting and sprinkles in an assembly line. He wasn't sure why his eyes travelled over her smiling face so much more these days. She looked the same as she always had. At least, he tried to tell himself that. The truth was he thought she had suddenly gone from cute to beautiful.

  "You waiting for the tree to finish decorating itself?" Roland asked, again the only thing moving on him being his jaw.

  "No. I'm trying to figure out my motivation. What I want this year's tree to say. What emotions I want to stir." He said sarcastically looking down at his dad who had caught him watching Jessica. He felt his cheeks redden just a little so he turned quickly and grabbed a couple of the red and green glass balls to start hanging.

  The McGee family was not into the expensive, heirloom type of Christmas. Even though they lived in a modest little house Devin liked to call it trailer park chic, when his mother wasn't around, of course, which was most of the time. She worked as a nurse on the three to eleven shift and two nights a week she managed the convenience store over on Moose Road and Main Street working the graveyard shift. Devin was sure he hadn't seen her in the evening since he was in diapers.

  They had a few gaudy plastic lawn ornaments that were put out every year and the Christmas tree looked like dozens of dark green pipe cleaners all wound together. The only thing that his mother had paid good money for and insisted it be displayed prominently was the simple Nativity scene. They weren't very religious. But Devin's mother, having seen her share of heartbreak and miracles working for so many years at the hospital, was a believer.

  "How would you feel if everyone forgot it was your birthday?" she asked Devin one year when he asked her why the little ceramic statues had to be placed on the coffee table where he liked to park his feet sometimes. "We do it so we don't forget."

  "You're making a Rembrandt." his father teased, knowing he had embarrassed his boy just a little.

  "Don't you have to work today, dad?"

  Roland moved his arm so he could see his wrist and then tucked it back behind his head.

  "I don't have to leave for two hours. Aren't you glad?"

  "I'm glad!" Jessica piped up from the kitchen. "I'm just thrilled to my very foundation."

  "Hey, Jess. No one likes a suck-up. Besides, you're not getting anything in the will. He's leaving this entire dynasty to me. Me!" Devin said pointing into his own chest.

  Again Jessica started to laugh.

  "I don't know why you encourage him, Jess. I really don't." Roland said his eyes glued to the television that had some football game playing. He worked at Clemen's Fishery where most of the men in Homer, Alaska worked. He rotated his schedule and in the next few days he'd be on the water for two weeks and in the cannery for one with the last week off. The work was hard but the pay was good and with one kid heading off for college and the other heading somewhere the McGee household could use every extra dime they made.

  Devin gave Jessica a wink to which she stuck out her tongue. He continued unpacking decorations, smiling to himself as he did so.

  There were four red stockings with white, furry trim around the tops that hung from the bookshelves and a couple of weird stuffed elves, pillows of Santa and Frosty the Snowman and several handmade ornaments that Devin and his sister had made when they were little.

  It was at that precise moment that Devin was hanging up the tacky little decorations made by clumsy little hands that the front door opened and slammed shut. Only his sister slammed the door that way. She didn't come into the living room but instead stomped upstairs to her room.

  A collective breath had been taken and slowly released by Jessica, Devin and his father. Kelly was home. No one said anything but it would have been obvious to a blind man that there was a change in the air.

  Roland seemed to instinctively grab the television remote control and turn the volume down. Devin continued to put the ornaments on the tree but moved several boxes out of the way and stacked them on the wall behind him by the window where foot traffic was rare.

  Jessica looked at Devin and smiled kindly, tilting her head to the right as if to tell him it would be alright. But when she heard the stomping footsteps of Devin's sixteen year old sister pounding down the stairs she rolled her eyes.

  "Please just walk back out the front door." Jessica mumbled out loud to herself. She listened but instead of hearing the creak of the front door opening she heard the girl's footsteps getting closer.

  Kelly McGee was a plump girl with a round pudgy face who wore too much make-up and not enough clothing. It was snowing outside and as she appeared at the end of the hallway that opened to the kitchen and living room Jessica noted her black fishnet stockings and ankle high boots. Her backside was barely covered by a pair of tattered black cut-off shorts and a white tank top with a thin, black hoodie did nothing to conceal her cleavage.

  "What are you doing?" she snapped at Devin.

  He picked up another ornament from the plastic tub they were stored in and turned his back to his sister as he found a place to hang it on the tree.

  "What does it look like." he said back calmly.

  Kelly shifted from her left foot to her right and let out a huge sigh.

  "Don't you think I might want to help decorate the tree?"

  "You weren't home. I'm not going to wait for you."

  "And you just let him do whatever he wants?" she barked at her father who clicked the television off and sat up on the couch. "Devin always gets to do whatever he wants! You never say shit to him!"

  "Shut up, Kelly." Devin said, in a low, calm voice shaking his head as he reached for another ornament.

  "Don't tell me to shut up! That tree looks like crap anyways."

  "Kelly, that's enough." Roland said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "He started it!" Kelly looked in the kitchen and saw Jessica watching her. Jessica wasn't afraid of Kelly like Roland and Mrs. McGee were. They were afraid if they had her arrested or checked her into rehab she'd never come back or get killed on the street or some other guilt-riddled excuse. But Jessica felt nothing but disgust for the girl. And the sentiment was mutual.

  "What the hell are you looking at? Real nice of you to make yourself at home using our gas and electricity and water. Don't you have a home to go to?"

  Jessica rolled her eyes, not giving Kelly the satisfaction of a reply and turned her back to take the last of the Christmas cookies out of the oven.

  "I asked you a question!" Kelly yelled.

  "Kelly, stop that right now." Roland said, standing up.
"I have to go to work." He slipped past his daughter and made his way to the front door where he put on his heavy work boots, thick winter jacket and a hat. Without another word he opened the door and left. Kelly had the ability to empty a room this way. Devin wasn't surprised at his father's behavior. He had left the house a thousand times before just so he wouldn't have to listen to his daughter have another temper tantrum.

  But Devin knew Kelly’s outbursts were more than just tantrums. Some people on talk shows would say that she was a victim. Poor thing just wanted love and discipline. Ship her off to some resort in one of the warmer lower forty-eight states where she can ride horses and paint pictures and whine in a circle with a bunch of other brats who felt at the age of sixteen life was too hard. That would cure her anger issues. Not.

  The truth was Devin knew there was something wrong with Kelly all their life. He always felt there was a short circuit in her brain that made her enjoy hurting people. If he could blame it on drugs he'd feel a lot better about her but the truth was she wasn't on drugs. Sure she experimented but she wasn't what you'd call a doper. She was just mean. Cruelty was a sport to her. And Devin wasn't embarrassed to say he hated her.

  "Give me that!" She yelled at Devin, stomping up to him to snatch the ornament he was holding out of his hand. "That one is mine!"

  "Fine. Take it." He said, still calm. He looked at Jessica.

  "What are you looking at her for? Gotta get permission to do anything?" Kelly said, standing on tip-toe to hang the red ornament she had taken. "Jessica? Is it okay if I wipe my ass?" she said in a sing-songy voice loud enough for Jessica to hear.

  Devin shook his head and stepped around his sister.

  "Let's get going." He said.

  Jessica nodded her head and piled the cookies that had cooled off into a festive blue tin with white snowflakes all over it.

  "Shaky Hands will still eat them, even without the frosting." she said, smiling up at Devin.

  "What have you got? I want a cookie." Kelly said, walking over to the kitchen. Jessica reached into the tin, took one out and handed it to Kelly. She stood there with the cookie in her hand like she had just been handed poop.