by Tonya Kappes
“Are you here, Poppa?” I looked around my kitchen, wondering if he was going to show up.
I took another sip of coffee, giving him a few minutes. I had no idea how long it took a ghost to show up. When he didn’t, Duke was as good as a listener as anyone with two legs.
“Duke, how does Camille play into this?” I looked over at him. His head was down, focused on the food in his bowl. I wrote her name and underlined it. “I definitely need to pay her another visit.” Beneath the line, I jotted down a few reasons I needed to see her. “For one, she and Doc Walton had a very public and heated discussion. I wonder what that was about.” I bit the corner of my lip. “Plus, I’m a little curious about Polly Parker and her breakdown I heard through the wall.”
I added Polly Parker to the list. Not that I thought she had anything to do with the murder, but I was curious about her.
“Then there’s Viola White herself. I’m not sure she had anything to do with it. But she might have had a visitor asking questions, or maybe someone even scoped out her place and didn’t see any security cameras.” I wrote her name down. “But there was no forced entry.”
“Don’t forget the teeth marks.” Poppa stood by the door. He was dressed in his brown sheriff’s uniform minus the pin that was on my shirt. “You can go see Beverly Houston.”
“There you are.”
My heart lifted from just seeing him. I stared at him for a second. He looked great. He was healthy, not thin, and his hair was thicker than it was when he died. And his face was nice and smooth. He had a few wrinkles around the eyes, but that was it.
“I told you I was here to help you.” He patted the side of his leg. Duke ran to him. “Beverly Houston.” He was always good at staying on task.
“Beverly Houston because…” I stood up and paced between Poppa and the table. Duke had already taken to Poppa. “If the murderer was from Cottonwood and had false teeth, they were probably Dr. Houston’s patient.”
“Now you’re thinking.” Poppa winked.
I looked down at my list and wondered if Viola was a waste of time. I could probably talk myself out of her, but didn’t. I looked down at my puny list. There wasn’t much to go on. I sighed. I tapped my finger on her name.
“She might have a dental plate.” Poppa shrugged. “I mean, a lot of people in town have less teeth than you think.” My Poppa grinned from ear to ear. “I’m so glad you found the pin.” He lifted his large wrinkled hand and pointed. “I have no idea how I lost it. I swear Max stuck it on me after he dressed me.”
“Let’s go.” I grabbed my bag, locked the door behind us, and jumped in the Wagoneer, leaving very little time to waste. “We have a very long day ahead of us.”
“Kenni! Calling all units!” Betty Murphy screamed over the walkie-talkie.
I automatically plugged my right ear with my finger and jiggled it back and forth, trying to get the high-pitched ringing from Betty’s voice to go away.
“What?” I asked, immediately regretting the pissed-off tone of my voice.
“What is going on?” she asked. “The switchboard is lit up with callers saying you are zooming out of Free Row. Did something happen?”
Switchboard? There wasn’t a switchboard.
“You mean call waiting?” I whispered. “I’m just driving to Doc’s house to meet Art and Wyatt. There are no new crimes. And you don’t need to tell anyone anything.”
I assured Betty I’d be in the office after my meeting. I couldn’t wait to see if Finn had gotten the ear pieces ready.
“Mornin’.” Wyatt stepped out of his car after he’d met me back out on Poplar Holler Road at Doc Walton’s house.
I’d left Duke in the car. He didn’t need to be running around a crime scene.
“I appreciate you meeting me out here this morning.” I glanced around. Poppa had gone and done his disappearing act on me again.
“You sure are making sure you cross your T’s,” Wyatt pointed out.
“First murder case while I’ve been elected, so you don’t know my style.” I smiled and grabbed my bag out of the Wagoneer.
“Your Poppa would be proud. He was good at investigating.” Wyatt smiled and patted my back.
“I appreciate that.”
I slammed the door and headed up to the house. The crime tape was still up so anyone who tried to come would know it was an active crime scene.
“According to Toots, patients showed up at all hours of the night and sometimes Doc didn’t charge them,” I said. “Anyone could’ve come to see him and there would be no record unless he gave them a prescription.”
Art’s old truck rumbled up the driveway.
“What’s he doing here?” Wyatt asked.
“I had him come here to show me how to use the security camera system.” I waved as Art walked up to us.
“Security system?” Wyatt asked, sticking his hand out for a good ole boy shake with Art.
“That’s why I told you to meet me here. Finn said that he saw some cameras on the outside of the barn.” I gestured to the back of the house. “Did you know White’s Jewelry didn’t have a security system?”
“No,” Wyatt said.
“Isn’t that strange?” I wondered if her insurance company knew she didn’t have a security system. Just another thing I needed to follow up on.
“Doc Walton had a security system with a camera installed on the barn.” Art pointed to the building I had no idea was in use. “He had it installed when he was sure some kid was stealing his hens.”
“And?” Wyatt asked.
“It was a coyote.” Art laughed. “I tried to tell him it was probably an animal, but he was sure it was a teenager or something.”
“Doc did have his ways.” Wyatt and Art exchanged some old poker stories while I unlocked the front door and let us in.
“I’m a little freaked out to be in here.” Art bit the corner of his lip and crossed his arms across his chest. “I mean, him being dead and all.”
“I understand, but I need you to show me where the equipment is located and how to pull the footage.” I put my hand out, squeezing his arm for some sort of comfort. “I just know it will have some evidence on there to help me bring his killer to justice.”
His Adam’s apple bounced up and down along with his head. I could tell he was fighting back tears.
“Can you do that for me?” I asked. “I bet Wyatt will even take you out for breakfast.”
“I’m hungry too.” Wyatt tapped his watch.
“Okay,” Art agreed as we walked into the house. “It’s in the second room on the right.” He pointed down the hall behind Toots’s desk. The room where Doc’s life had been taken. “In the closet.”
“Are you sure?” Wyatt asked.
“Positive. I’m the one who installed it.” Art hung his head. “Is that where the…” He dragged his finger across his neck.
“Yes.” I wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. I plucked a pair of booties from the box on Toots’s desk and handed him a couple to place over his shoes. “Do you think you can handle going in there?”
He didn’t say a word. He just took the shoe covers and slipped them on, letting me and Wyatt lead the way.
“Be sure not to touch anything.” I knew all the evidence had been collected from Finn earlier, but I still wanted to do one more sweep of the place before I turned it over to Doc’s executor; I hadn’t found out who that was as of yet. There had never been a time Doc talked about family. As far as I knew, he was never married or had any children.
I also gave everyone a set of gloves to put on; if the killer did know about the security system and they touched it, I didn’t want to ruin any prints.
I took a deep breath before I opened the door, preparing myself for what was behind it. Even though I had seen it already, the
idea of going back in wasn’t high on my “want to do that again” list.
“I still can’t believe Ronald had a security system,” Wyatt said in disbelief. “He never said a word.”
“You wouldn’t believe all the people who have systems. Cameras are everywhere now.” Art was looking at Wyatt when I opened the door, and then he looked inside. His jaw dropped and a small sigh escaped his open mouth like the life of him just deflated. “Who would do this?”
The splatter of blood showed the thrust of the weapon. Everything Max Bogus told me about the post-mortem stabbings was starting to make sense. I could tell the post-mortem blood splatter from the pre-mortem. The blood was darker, almost black.
“I’m hoping the camera is going to give us a little more evidence.” I pointed to the ground for them to watch their steps as they trailed behind me, making our way over to the closet. “Please step over the shattered glass.”
I took a quick look at where Doc had been laying when I found him. Max was right. There weren’t any glass fragments near where his head had been. In fact, it was more toward his feet. Was Max’s theory right about the mercury globules? If that was the case, was Doc Walton’s death premeditated or was it spontaneous?
I turned my attention toward the closet door Wyatt and Art had just opened.
Art was right. I was not expecting to see what was behind the door. The security system was state of the art. There were so many black boxes with chasing lights, blinking lights, and lights that stayed on.
“Wow.” Wyatt leaned closer to get a good look. “You do all this stuff?”
“Yeah.” It was Art’s opening to brag on himself. He went on and on about how technology had come a long way in just a few years and Doc wanted something that was going to penetrate through the dark night since he lived in the country and there wasn’t light other than the moon. He pointed to the little TV and told us Doc could watch live if he wanted to. “Here’s the chip.” Art pushed a button and out popped a little microchip.
I pulled an evidence baggie out of my bag as Wyatt stuck his hand out.
“In here.” I thrust the bag in front of his hand. “Just in case.”
Art dropped the microchip in the bag and I closed it up, using my pen to write “Evidence” on it.
“Thank you, Art.” I held the bag close to me. “You have no idea how much this will help in figuring out who did this.”
Art turned away from the closet. “I hope so, but if he didn’t roll back the times…”
“Roll back the times?” I asked.
“Ronald didn’t want the continuous feed. He wanted to watch it night by night. When he found out it was coyotes and fixed the problem, he mentioned during poker night that he didn’t really use the system much anymore.” A sadness drew down his thin face, making his cheeks droop more.
“Let’s just hope.” I patted him on the back and pointed toward the door.
When we all were back out in the hallway, I shut the door and led them to the front porch. The sun was still shining, which was a good thing since the town council decided to let the festival continue.
If the rain stayed away for the rest of the night and the next few days, the muddy mess at the fairgrounds would be able to hold the carnival equipment coming to town in a couple days to set up. That would be good news for Cottonwood. We needed a little reprieve from all the bad news we’d been given.
“Art,” I stopped him before he left. He turned around. “I understand that Viola White had an appointment with you and cancelled it.”
“She did,” he confirmed.
“Do you find it strange that she didn’t have cameras installed at the jewelry store?” I was no expert on who did or who didn’t have cameras and why they wouldn’t, but I was curious to see his thoughts.
“I’ve been on Viola for years now.” He shook his head. “She’s so hard headed. She claims that if someone wants to steal something bad enough, security cameras aren’t going to keep them away.” He laughed. “I told her security cameras weren’t to keep them away; they were to catch the robbers in the act. She just couldn’t get that concept.”
Art and I said goodbye. I walked away to let him and Wyatt make their breakfast plans.
“Fresh eyes, Kenni-bug.” Poppa danced around the car and into the passenger seat. “Sometimes deep secrets in a small town are hidden from us. Fresh eyes can see those secrets. Most of the time, secrets have a way of revealing themselves.”
I looked at Poppa, figuring he must’ve meant Finn.
“Kenni?” Wyatt asked. I hadn’t seen him come over.
“Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head, coming back to the present.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked. His excited tone turned to concern.
“Yes. I was just thinking about Doc Walton and how brutal this all was. And for what?” My thoughts came out of my mouth.
“I recognize that pin.” Wyatt smiled, his eyes on the lapel of my brown sheriff shirt.
I ran the pad of my finger over it and couldn’t stop the smile on my face.
“I found it in my Wagoneer.” I glanced over at the old car my Poppa had given me and him sitting up front. “I swear I’ve cleaned that old thing inside and out several times since he passed and I’d never seen it.”
“I thought they buried it with him.” Wyatt’s shoulders jumped when he let out a little laugh. “I swear I saw it on him in the coffin before they closed it and we carried him out to the hearse.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to recall, but I had blocked out most of the funeral out of grief.
Wyatt had been a pallbearer. He was close with Poppa.
“Maybe it was a different one.” Wyatt shrugged again. “I guess I better get going. Art is probably halfway to town by now.”
“I’ll see you in an hour or so.” I waved and jumped in the front of the Wagoneer. I quickly rolled down the window. “Hey.” I stopped him before he got into his car. “Max told me something that makes me sick.”
“What was that?” Wyatt rested his hand on the top of his open driver’s door.
“He said that most of the stab wounds were post-mortem and Doc probably didn’t die from being stabbed.” Images of some raging figure stabbing Doc’s dead body played in my head like one of Luke Jones’s movies.
“Oh my God.” Wyatt ran his hands through his hair.
“It seems like someone was really angry with Doc.” The crease between my brows deepened.
“That is sick.” Wyatt’s mouth opened, his eyes closed. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Someone who was very angry.” I held the baggie up. “And I hope their car or something is on this microchip.”
“Do you want me to file that as evidence?” Wyatt asked.
“That would be great. Be sure to log it first.” I handed him the baggie.
“What does Max think killed him?” Wyatt asked, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.
“Mercury poisoning.” My skin crawled at the thought of it.
“Mercury poisoning?” Wyatt grimaced.
“Yeah. Like the mercury from a broken thermometer.” I brushed my fingers over my lip. “There were granules embedded in his mustache and a broken thermometer at the scene. The way his body was laying it was not possible for him to fall face first into the mercury from the broken thermometer.”
“We are going to nail the sick bastard,” Wyatt spat. Anger flared in his eyes.
“Yes, we are,” I confirmed.
Chapter Twenty
It was still early for me to go around knocking on doors and questioning people. The one person I knew that was up and probably having breakfast at Cowboy’s Catfish was Katy Lee Hart. She ran her family’s insurance business, Hart Insurance. I had a good hankerin’ that she’d know if Viola White had an insura
nce policy on the jewelry store.
Cowboy’s Catfish had the usual crowd ready for grits and gravy. Betty was sitting at the counter with the cordless phone in hand, sipping her coffee and talking to the regulars. We nodded at each other.
“Kenni!” Tibbie Bell waved me and Duke over to her table.
I tried not to make eye contact with anyone else as I made my way through the tables, but I could feel the stares and hushed talk when I walked by.
“I was going to call you last night, but I figured your hands were full.” Tibbie pushed the chair next to her out for me to sit between her and Katy Lee.
I raised my hand when I saw Bartleby glance my way. He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. It was our unspoken signal that I needed a coffee and he needed to open the door between the jail and restaurant so Duke could go back there. I sat down and put my police bag on the ground and let go of Duke’s leash.
I watched him make his way around the tables with his nose to the ground, sucking up any food that had made its way on the floor, before he disappeared into the door leading to the back of the jail.
“Rowdy told me he’s seen you at the cemetery a lot lately.” Katy Lee patted my hand.
Katy Lee was a little thick around the waist, but fashionable to the hilt. Her blond hair was always parted to the side and curled in long loose tendrils. Besides the family insurance business, she sold Shabby Trends, a line of expensive clothing, on the side. Shabby Trends was like Tupperware. The only way to purchase the clothes was to have home parties and the clothes were just seasonal. It was kind of nice since someone couldn’t buy the skirt I’d bought from her a year ago. Today she had on a cute button-front dress with large yellow stripes and her cowboy boots.
Tibbie leaned in, her stare drilling into me, waiting for my reply to what Katy Lee had said.
Tibbie’s long brown hair was straight and parted down the middle, hanging over one shoulder and falling down to her waist. Her Ray-Ban sunglasses acted like a headband on top of her head. She too had on a dress, solid green with a big brown belt around her thin waist. She had on boots too, but hers zipped up the back and were taller than Katy’s.
