by BJ Bourg
“Fourteen. He’ll be fifteen next month. He should be in high school, but they held him back a grade because they didn’t think he was ready for the rigorous curriculum.” Her eyes had clouded over. “I’ve tried so hard to raise him the right way after his dad left us, but it’s so hard being a mother and a father to a young boy.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to us, ma’am.” I frowned, unable to imagine how difficult it was to raise a child alone. “When will he get back home from school?”
“In about two hours. They get out at two-twenty-five and it usually takes him five or ten minutes to ride his bike home.”
“Okay, we’ll be back, but I don’t want you to worry,” I said in a soothing voice. “We’re just going to ask him about where he got the phone and what he saw while he was out at the fair this past weekend. He’s not in any trouble.”
She seemed to relax a little when I told her Trent wasn’t in trouble. I didn’t want to tell her the reason he wasn’t in trouble, because she’d probably end up on the floor like Mrs. Smith. Since the victim was dead and not available to testify about his stolen phone, we couldn’t charge Trent for theft of that phone. I didn’t think Diana could handle any news about a dead person at the moment.
When we stepped back out into the sunshine, Susan radioed Takecia and let her know we were leaving the residence.
“Where to next?” she asked.
“What about a date?” I offered. “It’s been a while since we had lunch together.”
CHAPTER 36
Over lunch at Bad Loup Burgers, which was just down the street from the police department, Susan and I discussed the case and wondered who the killer might be.
“What do you think is up with the will?” Susan asked. “Do you think Shelly made it after she found out about Chester’s murder?”
“Could be. She thought she was getting everything he had by marrying him. When that fell through, I guess she went to her backup plan.”
“Do you think this kid had anything to do with anything?”
“No. Somehow, though, he got his hands on Chester’s phone, and we need to find out how.”
Susan glanced at her watch. It was still too early, but I could tell she was starting to get a little stressed. Her mom had already called three times today to find out if we’d solved the case. My mom had rung my phone twice, but I’d ignored the calls. I knew what she wanted and the answer was the same as I’d given her yesterday—I’ve got no clue if the wedding is still on.
“The smart money would be on Joel Barker,” Susan said. “He’d just had a beef with Chester the night before, he lied to you several times, he gave a false name, there was a twenty-two rifle hidden under his mattress, and he left town in a hurry. He was also at the fair all day, so he had the opportunity.”
I nodded thoughtfully as I chewed a mouthful of juicy burger. When I swallowed and wiped a stream of ketchup and mayonnaise from my mouth, I said I wasn’t convinced it was Joel. “A lot of things point to him, but it just doesn’t seem to fit.”
“What more do you need—a video tape of the murder?”
“That would be nice.” I dragged a French fry through the mound of ketchup on my plate and shoved it in my mouth. Susan had stopped eating and was sitting there staring longingly at the rest of her burger. I pushed her plate closer to her. “Just eat it.”
“No, I need to stay at this exact weight. The dress fits perfectly and I don’t want to do anything to change that.”
“Baby, you’re perfect and beautiful—burgers and all.”
She smiled her thanks, but the smile quickly faded when I challenged her theory.
“If Joel’s the one who killed Chester, how’d the bullet casings get in Terry’s truck?”
“Maybe Joel’s the one who stole the truck.”
“What are the chances that Joel would steal a truck that just so happened to belong to Chester’s fiancée’s dad?” I shook my head. “I think it’s too much of a coincidence. And you know what I say, I—”
“…don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to murder investigations.”
“We’re not even married yet and you’re already finishing my sentences.” I stopped eating and stared longingly into Susan’s dark brown eyes. They sparkled with moisture and the cute dimple in her cheek was pushed deep by her smile. “I love that I get to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.”
“Me, too,” she said simply, reaching across table to brush the outside of my hand with the tips of her fingers. “I love that I get to wake up next to me for the rest of my life, too.”
We both laughed, but it was short-lived because her competitive nature kicked in. “If you’re so sure Joel didn’t do it, then who did?”
I shrugged. “Since Terry’s truck was used, it had to be either him or Shelly.”
“Why would Terry kill Chester, though? He didn’t even know his daughter was dating him.”
“Maybe he found out.”
Susan was starting to warm to the idea. “I guess that’s a possibility. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked when Susan didn’t continue. She was just staring down at her half-eaten burger with a weird expression on her face.
“Didn’t you say Terry had a son?”
I nodded.
“What do we know about him?”
“He’s twenty-six, he visits his parents every day, and he has access to Terry’s guns.”
“And what about Mrs. Smith?” Susan pressed. “What if she fainted for a different reason? Maybe the heat was a little too close to comfort for her.”
I sighed. We knew a lot, but we were still a long way from knowing enough.
CHAPTER 37
Susan and I arrived back at Diana’s house on the west side of Coconut Lane and we found her and Trent sitting on the front porch. It was obvious she had fussed at him and that he knew we were coming. I didn’t like seeing him so bummed out, so I smiled from the moment I stepped out of my unmarked vehicle and kept the smile plastered on my face until I reached him to shake his hand.
“How are you, buddy?”
“I’m okay,” he mumbled.
“Do you know why we’re here?” I asked.
“Mom said you found that phone in the cereal box. I swear I didn’t steal it. I found it.”
“Okay.” I pointed to a spot on the porch next to him. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“It’s a free country.”
“Trent!” Diana said. “If you don’t mind your manners, I’m going to punish you for two months instead of one.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I felt bad and wanted to tell Diana it was okay, but I also didn’t want to usurp her authority. Instead of saying anything, I took my seat next to him and asked if he had fun at the fair. The question surprised him, but he went with it.
“Yeah, it was fun. Me and my friend rode every ride at the fair.”
“Can I ask where you found the phone?”
“It was on the ground next to the old man’s chair. He left it there when he ran us off.”
“What do you mean he ran y’all off?”
Trent pursed his lips. “We had a Friday wristband on and it was Saturday, so he didn’t let us ride the Battle Swing. No one else gave us any trouble except him. He was an ass.”
“Trent! One more time…” Diana’s face was red, more from embarrassment than anger.
“At what point did you find the phone?” I asked.
“Well, I saw him put it down when he ran us off. And then we saw this big guy come around to replace him. I knew him from another ride and he was cool, so we were going to get back in line for the Battle Swing when I noticed the phone was still there. I picked it up and I was going to give it to him—I swear it—but then, well, let me back up.”
I smiled and told him to take his time.
“Before he ran us off, he started messing with this tall blonde lady with giant—”
“Think real hard about what you’re going t
o say next, son,” Diana warned. “And I’m not joking.”
“Um, he was messing with this tall blonde lady before he ran us off and she came back with her husband. The husband was huge, and he started asking around for the old man. We thought they were going to fight, so we followed the big man and his wife.” Trent paused and frowned. “He couldn’t find the old man, so we stopped following them and went back to the Battle Swing.”
“Where were you when you stopped following them?” I asked.
“We were by the toilet houses.”
“Did you see anything or hear anything that might’ve captured your attention?”
Trent cocked his head to the side. “Like what?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. Anything that seemed out of place.”
Trent threw a hand to his chin and was thoughtful. After a full minute, he nodded. “Well, there was a truck that drove into the parking lot to the right. I remembered it because it had some skulls and crossbones on the windows and the windows were tinted really dark.”
I kept my poker face on. “What was out of place about this truck?”
“Nothing, really, I guess, but the driver’s side window went down real slow and I got scared. I didn’t know if they saw me take the phone or what.”
“Son, what color was this truck?”
“Red.”
In my peripheral vision, I could see Susan nod.
Now for the next question…the crucial one. “Did you happen to see who was driving the truck?”
“Nah, I got out of there when I saw the window going down. I didn’t know why they would put their window down if they were getting out at the fair, so I left in a hurry. Like I said, I thought they saw me take the phone and were coming after me. I thought it could even be undercovers, because the windows were so dark.”
“What about your friend? Do you know if he saw the driver or any passengers in the truck?”
Trent shook his head. “He didn’t see anything. He ran before I did.”
I pondered this new information. Not only did we have spent shell casings from the murder scene in the truck, but now we had an eye witness who could place the truck at the scene.
“Mister Detective, am I in trouble?” Trent’s voice quivered a little. “I’m really sorry for taking the phone. I would’ve given it back had I found the old man.”
“You’re okay, kid. We’ll be in touch if we need anything more.”
Diana had been listening intently as I spoke with Trent, and her brow had slowly furrowed. “Does this have anything to do with the murder at the fair?”
I nodded slowly.
Trent’s face turned pale. “Is the old man the killer? Will he come after me for taking his phone?”
I put a hand on his shoulder and shook my head. “No, buddy, no one is coming after you.”
CHAPTER 38
I was going to drive to the Smith residence next, but Lindsey called us over the police radio to say we had company back at the office. When Susan called to ask who it was, Lindsey told her it was an old man with two people who looked like they stepped out of one of her historical horror novels.
“It’s got to be Patricia and Junior,” Susan said as she ended the call. “Do you think they’ve got Chester’s handwriting samples?”
“That’s what I’m hoping.” I whipped the Tahoe around and headed for the police department. “If the will is a forgery, Shelly’s got some serious explaining to do.”
We didn’t say much more on the short drive to the office, each of us wondering what revelations might be revealed and if this would bring us closer to solving the case…and to our wedding.
Once parked, we hurried up the steps and into the lobby where Patricia was sitting with Junior and Alf. A worn leather-bound book was in her lap. I pointed toward her lap. “Is that it?”
She nodded.
“Follow Chief Wilson,” I said. As Susan led them to the conference room, which was on the opposite wing of the building from the interview rooms, I retrieved the will from the evidence locker. Once we were all seated around the large table, I placed the will on the table in front of me and took the book from Patricia.
“He logs everything in that book,” Patricia explained.
I noticed she was speaking about her dad in the present tense, as though he was still alive. I felt bad for her and her brother. As I flipped to the first page of Chester’s journal, I asked about Dickie.
“He’s too upset to travel,” she said.
I didn’t know what else to say, so I told her how sorry I was for them. Two things stood out right away when I saw Chester’s writings. First, his handwriting was messier than mine. Second, he used short and simple words to describe things, and many of those words were misspelled. Pulling the will close to the open journal, I grunted and shook my head.
“What is it?” Patricia asked.
“I’m no handwriting expert, but it’s painfully obvious this will is a forgery.”
“I knew it!” Junior said. “I knew that gold-digger was trying to steal our land!”
I leaned back in my chair and studied Chester’s children. Patricia’s eyes revealed the pain and anger she felt, and I knew I’d better get my hands on Shelly before she did. “What are you plans for this evening?” I asked. “In case there’s a break in the case, I want to be able to notify you right away.”
Patricia looked from Junior to Alf and then back to me. “I don’t really know.”
“They’re staying at my place tonight,” Alf said. “I’ve got plenty of food, running water, and an apple pie that needs some attention.” He nodded in my direction. “You’ve already got my number.”
I liked that idea. If they were with Alf, they might not get into trouble. “Great. I’ll let y’all know as soon as we find out something.”
Susan and I walked them out, but we didn’t wait for them to leave before jumping into my Tahoe. I needed to get to Shelly quick—before Patricia decided to go after her.
We drove straight to Shelly’s barn on Lacy Court and I knocked on the door. Nothing. I banged again, this time harder. Still nothing from inside.
“Maybe she went to her parents’ house,” Susan suggested.
I knew there was no way Patricia had gotten here yet and I didn’t think she knew where Terry Smith lived, so I felt a little better. We drove to the Smith residence next. There were two cars parked in the driveway. I hadn’t seen either of them when I was here the first time, so I figured one had to belong to Shelly. It turned out I was right, as she was the one who answered the door.
“Hey, can we talk?” I began. “There have been some developments with the will.”
She hesitated, but let out a long sigh and nodded. “Let me get my purse.”
I took a half step forward and watched her walk through the living room to a loveseat. She bent over and came up with a brown purse, said something to someone I couldn’t see, and then came back to the door.
“How long will this take?” she asked when she scooted into the front seat, where Susan could watch her from the back.
“As long as it takes for you to tell me the truth about that will you forged—and any other crimes you’re involved with.” My tone was stern and I could tell it surprised her. “That’s exactly how long it’ll take.”
CHAPTER 39
Shelly didn’t say a word on the drive to the police department, or when we walked inside. In fact, she didn’t open her mouth until I advised her of her Miranda rights.
“Why are you reading my rights?” She was in a panic. “Am I under arrest?”
“Not at the moment,” I said, “but you’re a suspect in a forgery, which is a felony, and you could end up in jail. If I find out you had a hand in murdering Chester, you’ll die in prison—either by lethal injection or old age.”
Shelly was shaking her head from side to side as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I had nothing to do with Chester’s murder. You’ve got to believe me. I loved him. I wanted us to spen
d the rest of our lives together. We had plans…dreams. It was supposed to be great.”
Susan reached over and handed Shelly a box of tissues. She pulled one loose and began wiping her eyes.
Her crying didn’t move me. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. “How can I believe you about the murder when you’re lying about the will?”
“I’m not lying about the will,” she said weakly.
I stood and left the room. When I returned, I dropped Chester’s journal on the desktop. I flipped it open to a random page and stabbed at the writing with my index finger. “This is what Chester’s handwriting looks like. It’s nothing like that forged document you turned over to me.”
Holding a tissue against her mouth with both hands, Shelly just stared down at the journal.
“Look, you can continue denying it and force me to send it off to an expert, who would testify in court that this is a forgery, or you can tell me the truth.” I took my seat and rested my elbows on the desk. “Those are your choices. If you continue to deny it, I’ve got to believe you forged the will and then killed Chester so you could steal all of his property and make your little bed and breakfast or whatever it was you wanted to do with his property.”
“But I didn’t!” she wailed.
“Of course you did. You forged the will and stole your dad’s truck to murder him.”
“No!”
“You forged that will and then shot him to death while he sat on the shitter.”
“No!” Tears leaked down her face and sprayed off her breath when she spoke. “Please, you’ve got to believe me!”
“I don’t have to do anything but close the book on this case, and the final chapter is going to say you wrote that will and then murdered poor Chester to steal his land.”
“Stop it! Stop saying that!”
“Why? It’s true.”
“No, it’s not! I didn’t kill him.”
“Do you swear it?”
“I do!”
“Say it—say you swear you didn’t kill him.”
