by Tonya Kappes
It was still so early. I certainly wouldn’t have thought Doc was open for patients at seven a.m., though he was dressed and had on his white lab coat and blue latex gloves.
I walked around his body, noticing little beads of mercury all over the floor from a broken thermometer. Small shards of glass glistened on the tile floor quite a bit away from Doc’s body.
There appeared to be stab wounds on his neck, his back, and his arms. I got a good look at the ones on his neck. Whoever did this was making sure Doc Walton wasn’t going to see any more patients. Ever.
I glanced around the room to see if there was a murder weapon or something that would’ve created the stab wounds, but nothing was visible. I crouched down and looked underneath the patient exam tables, chairs, and cabinets. There was nothing.
“Looks like somebody did him in good.” Wyatt stood a little ways back from me.
“I’ve got it taken care of here.” My hand gripped my bag. “Why don’t you go on back into the office and stay with Toots? Make sure she doesn’t wander around the crime scene.”
Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t used to taking orders from me. He’d been jailer as far back as I could remember.
I squatted down and took a look at the mercury beads all over the floor and was careful not to step on any.
Take an evidence sample.
“What did you say?” I looked over my shoulder at Wyatt.
“I didn’t say anything.” His brows drew together.
“We need to collect a few of these as evidence,” I said under my breath, wondering if I had actually heard my own thoughts. There was no other explanation.
There was a protocol I had learned in the police academy when it came to a murder case, and since this was my first one, I wanted to make sure I covered all the bases.
I took my pen out of my pocket and pushed one of the mercury balls, watching it explode into tinier silver balls. I took out another evidence marker and placed it on the floor.
I put more markers next to Doc’s cane, a couple more on blood splatters, and one more near the broken thermometer.
“Who’s our guy?” A man’s voice came from the direction of the door.
“Depends on who wants to know.”
I stood up and looked at the man in the light gray suit with his black hair neatly parted to the side. He had a pair of the booties covering his shoes.
He reached in the pocket of his fancy jacket and flipped out a badge. He took a couple steps into the room, not taking his eye off Doc’s body.
“Finn Vincent with the Kentucky State Reserve.” He walked over and stood next to me. “They sent me here to assist in the investigation.”
“That was fast.” I looked up at Doc’s clock. “I just told my dispatch to call you guys in.”
“I was in the next county over working with a crime over there.” He glanced around the room. “Murder takes precedence over break-ins, I guess,” he joked.
“Sheriff Lowry.” I peeled my gloves off and stuck my hand out, giving him a nice firm handshake. “I appreciate all your help. First thing you can do is ask for Doc Walton’s appointment book from the receptionist. We need to gather a list of patients and see if he had any appointments this morning. Without a motive or weapon, we need to eliminate each and every patient to narrow down a suspect list.”
At this point, everyone was a suspect in my book. Including Toots and Sterling.
“He saw patients here?” Finn asked.
“Long story, but he had a fender bender a while back and had to retake the road test again because of his age. He didn’t pass, so his license was revoked, but he could have retried in six months. He was still a good doctor and passed the test to keep his medical license, so he just moved his office here.” I kept my eyes on him, studying his reaction.
“I’ll go find that appointment book.” He stepped outside the door but turned back around. “Would you like me to address the crowd outside first?”
“Crowd?” I asked.
“Yeah. It seems like your entire town is out there waiting for someone to come out and talk to them.” He shrugged.
I followed behind him down the hall and took a look out the window. I shouldn’t have been surprised. News traveled fast in small towns, especially ours.
“I’ll go do it, Sheriff.”
Wyatt walked past me and nodded his head toward Finn. They gave each other the good ole boys look.
“I’ll take care of it, Wyatt. You stay here and continue to look for the weapon.”
The last thing I wanted was for the town to think I was passing the ball to Wyatt. There had already been talk around town that I wasn’t going to run unopposed in the next election. Plus, it wasn’t a secret that some folks weren’t too keen on having a woman as sheriff, but I’d have to say I’d been doing a fine job so far. I was up for re-election in two years, but politicking in small towns started two years before the actual election. I wasn’t ready to give up my job, so I’d better make sure I was meeting the public’s needs now.
“Are you ready?” Finn asked, his hand on the front door handle.
“As I’ll ever be.” My lips formed a thin line, trying to smile the best I could.
Finn was right. When he opened the door, it looked like the entire town had gathered on Doc’s front lawn. They emitted a collective gasp and watched as I stepped out on the porch.
The morning was drying off; the rain had stopped. The tree branches bobbed as the wind flew across the yard, sending droplets of rain onto the crowd below.
“If I can have everyone’s attention.” I put my hands in the air. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that Doctor Ronald Walton was found deceased in his home this morning. I do not have any information on how he died, but we are treating it as a homicide at this time. There is no cause for alarm for the community. I assure you the sheriff’s department has everything under control and I will keep you abreast of any and all information as I learn it. You can all go home.”
Pretty pleased with my impromptu speech, I turned to go inside when I heard the raspy voice call out to me. I turned back around on instinct.
“Yoohoo!” Edna Easterly from the Cottonwood Chronicles scurried her way up past the crowd. A walking cliché, her brown fedora with a red polka dot ribbon around the rim sat cockeyed on her head; a big feather on the side had big globs of dried glue from a hot glue gun and a piece of paper with “reporter” written in green Sharpie marker was stuck in the front. “Sheriff Lowry!”
“Not now, Edna.” My eyes lowered. “When I have more information, I’ll be sure to release it to the public.”
“How do you plan on handling this since Lonnie Lemar retired? Seems you are short a deputy. Your only deputy.” She put her pen back on her paper ready to document my answer. “If you are here, who is going to keep the rest of Cottonwood safe?”
“This is Finn Vincent of the Kentucky Reserve Unit.” I gestured toward Finn. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him. “He is here to assist until we figure out what we are going to do about filling that deputy position.”
Edna’s brows furrowed. “And exactly how will you be assisting?” Edna wasn’t going to let the questions stop there, but I was.
“Thank you, Edna.” I smiled politely. “We will let you know when we have further information.”
“Is there a killer among us?” she yelled out.
I turned and headed back into the house, hoping that when I came back out the crowd would be gone, along with Edna Easterly.
“I can’t believe we have a serial killer in Cottonwood.” Toots began to sob all over again.
“Whoa.” I put my hands out. “Who said anything about a serial killer?”
Toots let out a little sniff and shrugged.
“Let’s not go packing tales where
there is no tale to pack.” The last thing I needed was a town full of gun-carrying people looking for a reason to shoot someone. I pointed to the stack of files. “Does your desk always look like this?”
“No.” Toots shook her head. “It was like this when I got here. Sterling was outside in shock. The look on his face is forever stained on my brain.” She sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out as if she were calming herself. Her voice quivered. “I asked him what was wrong and he could only point. When I came in, I saw this and ran back to Doc. Then I called Betty. Now here you are.”
I pulled the notepad and pen from the breast pocket on my shirt and flipped it open.
“Is this like one of them formal statements you see on the TV?” she asked, curling up on her toes to get a look at my notepad.
“I’m just making notes,” I said to Toots, scribbling her recollection of her morning events.
I turned toward Finn. “Can you ask the gentleman in the Henley shirt on the porch to come inside?” There was no need for Sterling Stinnett to hang around. I’d get him questioned and get him on his way.
Finn walked to the door and did what I asked, coming back in with Sterling trailing behind him.
“Sterling.” I waved him over. “Did you have an early appointment with Doctor Walton?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I needed a refill on my blood pressure prescription and Doc told me to come on out when I needed it filled. I like to get here early so I can beat the heat since I have to walk.”
Sterling Stinnett was sort of a drifter around Cottonwood. He had a small cement-block home with the bare necessities to live. He did odd jobs for homebuilders and some grass-cutting for the elderly.
“I knocked on the door. He usually greets me with a cup of hot coffee, but not today.” He looked down at his boots and scuffed his toe on the floor. He said in a low voice, “After a few minutes, I let myself in and hollered for him.”
“What time was it?” I asked, wondering how much earlier he’d gotten there before Toots.
“It was about ten minutes before Toots showed up. I was outside getting sick to my stomach after I saw Doc lying there in all that blood.”
His eyes drooped, his face hollow.
“Did you touch anything while you were in here?” I asked.
“I called out his name to see if he would respond.” He shook his head. “When he didn’t, I walked over and bent down over him. That’s when I saw all them puncture marks in his neck and I knew he was dead.”
“I’m going to need you to come down to the station and give a statement for the record and get some fingerprints taken,” I told Sterling. “Maybe Wyatt can give you a ride. You can wait outside and I’ll ask him.”
Sterling hung his head and walked out the door. I had more questions for Toots.
“What time did you get here?” I asked Toots, trying to establish a timeline.
“It was around six forty-five.” She nodded her head as though she was confirming it to herself. “Yes. Six forty-five.”
“Do you always come to work this early?” I asked.
“Sometimes.” She shrugged. She bit her lip and looked off in the distance. I noticed her lack of eye contact.
“What do you mean by sometimes?” I wanted a clear answer.
“Doc never gives me a set time to be here. Appointments start around nine, but sometimes people are here earlier.”
“What’s your morning routine?” I asked her.
“Well, I come in and grab a cup of coffee, take a look at the appointment book, and pull their files. I put the files in Doc’s office, so they’re there when he’s ready.” Her voice faded.
“What does Doc usually do while you are getting ready for the appointments?” I continued to write everything she was telling me.
“He drinks his coffee and goes through the files as I give them to him. But sometimes patients just show up like we’re one of those Take Care Clinics or something.” She shook her head. “And Doc never turns anyone away. Turned,” she corrected her choice of words in a hushed whisper.
“Are the walk-ins added to the appointment book?” I asked, noting how this could be a crucial lead in the investigation.
“Sometimes I put them in, sometimes I don’t,” she said. “Depends on if they want to use insurance or some other type of payment.”
“Like?” I coaxed her to continue.
“Like pie, cookies.” She tilted her head and when she saw I wasn’t following, she said in a whisper, “Sometimes the Sweet Adelines pay him in fresh grown veggies, bread, and sweets.”
Inwardly I groaned at the word Toots seemed to love: “sometimes,” but my mouth watered when she mentioned the Sweet Adelines. The group of women were not only barbershop singers who performed around Cottonwood, they also had a garden club. If you were lucky enough, and if they really liked you, your pantry was stocked full of fresh or canned vegetables all year round.
“Can you please give the appointment book to Officer Vincent?” I asked. At this point I was going to have to work with what I was given, and right now that didn’t seem like much.
“What was the cleaning process around here?” If Doc was so particular about shoes, he had to be even more particular about the rest of the instruments.
“He was OCD about the place.” She ripped another piece of toilet paper off the roll and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Every time a patient left, I had to wipe down everything with Clorox.”
“Every day? Every night?” I asked.
Toots nodded.
“You can go now, but I want you to stop by the station this afternoon to give a formal statement to Wyatt.” With a little time between now and then, I hoped she’d remember some key information she’d forgotten in her state of shock.
My eyes slid over to Wyatt. “I’m going to see if we can get an emergency town council meeting so we can get you on as deputy until the fall election.”
He nodded and tugged on the edges of his waistband. I was sure this made him happy, since I heard through the rumor mill that he was the one who wanted to run against me. After all, he was familiar with the job since the jailer’s office and sheriff’s office were all in one room in the back of Cowboy’s Catfish Restaurant.
When a new sheriff was elected, they normally brought in their own people. Not me. I kept the deputy who was here under my Poppa when he was sheriff of Cottonwood. If Leonard was good enough for Poppa, he was certainly good enough for me. Plus, Leonard had been interim sheriff between Poppa’s death and the election and he had no intentions of running. He wanted to finish out his two years and retire. I didn’t blame him.
No sense in taking time to train someone new. I lived by the motto, “If it’s not broke, don’t try to fix it.” Now that I needed a deputy, I was more than happy to appoint Wyatt to the job.
“I’ve got all the files.” Finn held up a stack of yellow files.
I glanced around the room through hazy sadness. Wyatt, Toots, and even Finn had a deep-set pain on their faces.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day.” I tapped the top of the files in Finn’s hands. “Wyatt, cancel whatever plans you had today because I’m going to need you to head down to the station.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Take Sterling with you so you can get his statement.”
Everyone scattered. I stood with my hands on my hips and glared down the hallway, trying to come up with an idea of why someone would want to kill Doc Walton.
A chill swooshed down the hall and up my uniform pant leg. I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I wished my Poppa were here. He’d know exactly what to do next.
“Now what?” I closed my eyes and whispered, trying to channel my Poppa. “Help me, Poppa.”
“You know,” Finn’s voice filled the space around me, an edge to it, “if you
sit and listen long enough, the walls have ears. All the answers are right here. We just have to peel back the layers one at a time.”
As goofy as Finn Vincent sounded, I had an eerie feeling he was right.
Chapter Three
It’s one thing to learn about a murder crime scene in the police academy but a totally different experience to be thrown in the middle of one. Toots had left and Wyatt had taken Sterling in his car down to the station, leaving Finn and me alone with Doc Walton. Duke had found a spot on the corner of one of Doc’s couches in the reception room—the only area we had cleared.
“Max Bogus, our county coroner and owner of our only funeral home, should be here any minute,” I said to Finn and finished up writing down a few notes. “He’ll do an initial assessment and then take Doc on down to the funeral home morgue.”
“Any clues on who might have done this?” Finn asked.
“No idea.” It was still a little shocking to me. “There hasn’t been a murder here since I took office two years ago.”
In the state of Kentucky, a sheriff serves a four-year term with no term limit, and I would have to say I was pretty lucky not having a murder on my watch. That lucky streak was over.
“Sheriff?” the voice of Max Bogus called from the front of the house.
“Come on in,” I yelled back.
Max walked in with his brown briefcase close to his side. He wore khaki pants, a blue button-down, and thick black-rimmed glasses.
“Max, this is Finn Vincent from the Reserve Unit.” I gestured between the two. “Finn, this is Max.”
They gave each other a handshake and nod.
“This is a first.” Max’s eyes dipped, his lips pursed as he bent down over Doc’s body.
“I still can’t believe it. There isn’t a murder weapon, which I’m assuming is a knife of some sort from all of the stab wounds,” I pointed out.
“We shall see.” Max held a clipboard and camera bag in his hands. “I’ve got to fill out the initial paperwork and you know I’ll need to see any witness statements or even talk to who found him.”
