by Tonya Kappes
“Oh, Dale.” She grinned and let out a happy sigh. “He said we got in a piece of jewelry that might be on the list, but Mr. Granger didn’t recognize the description on the report.”
“Do you have the piece?” I asked.
“I don’t. Dale sold it on consignment before I got back. Then a couple of days later, I got your report.” Shirley picked up a cleaning cloth and a bracelet. She rubbed the gold bracelet back and forth, making it as shiny as the bright summer sun.
“Is this the girl that came into the shop and pawned the stuff?” I asked and pulled out the file I’d been compiling on Polly Parker. Granted, it was an old picture, but she didn’t look any different.
“Yes.” Shirley looked at the photo, and then pushed the bracelet toward me. “That little girl sure didn’t look like a killer or jewelry thief to me.”
“Killer?” I asked.
“It’s no secret that the two are probably tied together. I read it online in the Cottonwood Chronicle.”
Of course Edna Easterly had already printed something in the Chronicle.
“Thank you for contacting us.” I slipped a card out of my bag and handed it to her. “If you or Dale think of anything else, please call me.”
“I will.”
Shirley chomped while looking at my card.
With the bracelet in hand, I knew it was time to confront Polly. I was going to her house. If her father was there, it’d be a bonus because I could question them about their hushed conversation in the canned vegetable aisle at Dixon’s Foodtown.
Twenty minutes later, Poppa and I pulled up in front of the Parkers’ gated mansion. It wasn’t far off the road and I was sure the Parkers did that to show off. They had a circular drive with a wrought-iron gate on each entrance. There was a large lake in the middle of the drive. Four concrete swans as big as my Wagoneer spit water out of their beaks from the middle of the lake. The mansion was the most modern building in Cottonwood and the Parkers didn’t keep it a secret that they paid just as much for the design of the house as it cost to actually build it.
“And just how are we going to get in there?” I bit the inside edge of my lip and scoured the surrounding area with my eyes. The Parkers wouldn’t be like Doc Walton and cut their cameras. “Well, like Finn said, sometimes you just got to be frank with people.”
“After all, you are just checking on their precious Polly since she was involved in a terrible robbery,” Poppa added.
“You’re right.” Sarcasm flowed out of my mouth. “She was so distraught over being violated.”
I rolled down the window and pushed the little black button on the call box.
A red light on top of the box began to flash at a rapid pace.
“Show off those pretty teeth Beverly Houston gave you. Your parents paid an arm and a leg for braces.” Poppa gestured to the camera.
“Can I help you?” someone asked through the box.
“Sheriff Lowry to see Polly Parker,” I stated.
“Hold on please.” The box screeched like my walkie-talkie. The small red light went off.
Poppa and I waited patiently for a couple of minutes and I pushed the button again.
The person finally came back. “I’m sorry, Miss Parker is not in.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see Mr. Parker. So you can open the gate or the front end of my Wagoneer will do it for you. Either way is fine with me.” I hated to get a little demanding, but I’d had enough of the Parkers thinking they were above the law.
A loud buzzing sound came from the speaker and the gates began to slowly move outward. I put the Wagoneer in gear and waited until the gates had stopped opening before I proceeded up the drive.
“Seriously,” I looked out the windshield at the massive house, “what is it like to have this much money?”
“A burden.” Poppa was right. The Parkers had a certain standard they liked to portray and it had to be exhausting trying to keep up. “You’re doing just fine in my old house.”
“You’re right.” I put the Wagoneer in park. “I wouldn’t ever move out of that house, even if I won the lottery.”
Calm came over me as I looked at Poppa. Normally when I had to go on a call or interview someone, I would be a nervous wreck. But with Poppa here next to me, though no one else could see him, I felt so much more at ease. Maybe it was his advice, but even just having him there gave me a little more confidence. And that was exactly what I needed to solve these crimes.
“Sheriff.” Mrs. Parker’s pruned-up face always looked like she was smelling something bad. Her nose was always curled, her eyes squinted, and her mouth pursed. Her brown hair was cut into a chin-length bob and not a single strand was ever out of place. She, like Polly, always wore pearls. I’d bet they even slept in them.
“Mrs. Parker.” It was best to keep it short and sweet. “I wanted to make sure Polly is doing okay.”
“I’m going to look around while you keep her busy.” Poppa disappeared into the mansion, leaving me on the front porch with Mrs. Parker.
“Won’t you come in?” Mrs. Parker took a step back. The heels of her shoes clicked on the marble flooring.
There was a maid standing behind her.
“Please go get the tea set,” she told the maid. “I’m assuming you do drink tea.”
“No.” My answer would be the talk of the gossip circle. Everyone in Cottonwood drank tea.
She drew back like I was being rude. She was really going to think I was rude when I handed Polly an orange jumpsuit to wear in prison.
“Never mind, Miranda.” She turned and I followed her into the front room, where there was only a couch and two chairs. Minimally decorated. “Please sit.”
I sat. My knees were shaking. I really hoped Poppa could find something that would help out.
“Where is Polly?” I asked.
“She and her father took one of his cars to the dealership. It’s a rare car he doesn’t drive anymore, so he will probably trade it in for something wonderful for Polly.” She eased down into the chair next to mine, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands into her lap. Her head turned and she glanced out the window. “Polly has been having a tough time with the break-in. In fact, it’s made her a little more defiant.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I wasn’t. I was happy to hear they were at a car dealership because I could trace any sort of transaction they would have with the dealer, not to mention get records from the county clerk’s office on the type of vehicle and its taxes.
The tires and the bracelet would definitely link Polly to the murder and the theft.
“Do you know if Polly remembers anything else about the robbery?” I asked, trying to buy time for Poppa. I glanced over to the door to see if Poppa would appear.
“No.” Mrs. Parker looked back at me. Her eyes held a sadness. I wondered if she knew Polly was having an affair with Mayor Ryland.
I pulled the pearl bracelet out of my pocket, dangling it in the air between my fingers.
Mrs. Parker gasped. She reached out to get it. I pulled it back.
“Evidence.” I didn’t tell her that Shirley had ID’d Polly to a tee. “I wonder if someone is trying to frame Polly as the thief. Does she have any enemies? I mean, I just couldn’t imagine, she’s always been so nice to me.”
As nice as a piranha. I glared at Mrs. Parker.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” Mrs. Parker stood up and walked out of the room toward the front door.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” Poppa didn’t bother waiting for me. He disappeared as fast as he’d appeared.
“Thank you for your time.” I turned away from the door to face her. “Please tell Polly I’m looking for her. Official business.”
“Are you telling me that my daughter is your number one suspect?” Mrs. Parker asked.<
br />
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” I took a step backward, out of the door.
“And to think we voted for you,” Mrs. Parker huffed and slammed the door in my face, nearly smashing my nose.
“That didn’t go so well.” I slammed the door after I got back into the car.
“I think it went great.” Poppa smiled, pleased as a peach. “While you were in there, I went to check out those files in Camille’s office like you had asked me to after I didn’t find anything in the Parker’s mansion.”
“And?”
“Ronald had run a full panel on Polly’s DNA, which was in both his and Camille’s files. Camille had only run a panel for that specific family gene. Ronald had another piece of paper in there that read ‘Paternity Test.’ The name was blacked out, but there was a number.” Poppa rattled off the number.
“Paternity test?” I questioned. “Mrs. Brown said something about family secrets. I wonder…” I tapped the wheel. “Did the papers have the testing lab on it?”
“DNA Diagnostics. The same one we use for the sheriff’s office.” Poppa grinned.
“It looks like I’m going to have to make a little visit.” I put the Wagoneer in drive.
“That’s not all.” Poppa’s face was gray. “It’s also in Polly’s records that when she was a kid, she had an accident at the pool where she slipped on the concrete, knocking some of her permanent teeth out.”
“She has a partial?” My mouth dropped. I’d never’ve guessed. Poppa nodded his head. Things were becoming very clear.
On my way back to Clay’s Ferry, I called Finn again.
“Finn, I haven’t heard from you today. I wanted to make sure you met with Toots. Also, I just got some more information that you will find very interesting.” I debated on whether to leave the information on the message. “Give me a call. I’d rather tell you and not your voicemail who I think the killer is.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The lab was in a brown brick building. I hadn’t been there since I became sheriff, but I’d gone with Poppa many times when he was sheriff.
“How can I help you?” A gray-haired man walked out into the waiting room after the doorbell above the door dinged when we walked in.
“I’m Sheriff Lowry from Cottonwood and I am here to look into some DNA paternal lab results that were run here by Doctor Ronald Walton.” I pulled my photo badge from my pocket. Sometimes it wasn’t enough to have on a uniform.
“I can’t believe this old son of a gun is still here.” Poppa took a good look at the elderly man in front of me. “Tom Geary.”
“Mr. Geary.” I put my hand out. “I bet you don’t remember me.” I sure didn’t remember him, but Poppa did and it was time I threw some granddaughter genes around. “I’m Kenni Lowry, Elmer Sims’s granddaughter. I use to come around here with him when he was sheriff of Cottonwood.”
Tom Geary looked me over. His brows narrowed.
“I’m so glad to see you are still here and processing all of our testing.”
He softened. “Do you have the number on the DNA testing?”
Poppa rattled off the number again and I rattled it off to Tom.
“You have a good memory.” He turned and had me follow him to the back.
We walked over to a desk with a computer. The wall behind him was glass and behind that was the lab. There were a couple people who were covered head to toe in surgical scrubs, masks, and gloves working in the lab.
“Tell me that number again.” He typed as I said the number yet again.
“Here we go.” Tom took a closer look. “I’m guessing you don’t have a warrant.”
“You guessed right, but I can get one.” I sighed.
“Well, I might as well give you what you need. I know you’ll be back with a warrant so we can skip that part.” He hit another button on the keyboard and the printer turned on.
He walked over and grabbed the paper the printer had spit out.
“Here are the DNA results Ronald Walton ran.” He showed me the paper. “Here it shows the patient tested positive for Hereditary Spastic Paraplegia, HSP for short. It looks like there was a DNA test run on the mother and father.” He pointed to Polly’s parents’ name. “When they didn’t turn up as having the genes the patient needed in order to have HSP, Ronald ran another test.”
Tom paused.
“He had me run his own DNA.” Tom handed me the paper.
I didn’t need him to tell me what the paper said.
“Are you telling me that Ronald Walton is Polly Parker’s real father?” The words coming out of my mouth shocked me.
“What?” Poppa’s eyes darted back and forth from me to Tom.
“Yes.” Tom Geary had just sealed the case.
“Here is my cell number.” I scribbled it on a piece of paper on his desk. “Please call me as soon as the other evidence Wyatt had you process is finished. I need it ASAP.”
Tom just looked at me as I hurried out of the lab.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Doc Walton is Polly’s father.” I couldn’t stop saying it. “Her father.”
The information was having a hard time sinking into my thick skull.
“And that gives her a reason to kill him and tells us why the shop was broken into. She stole her own jewelry and a few items from the store so it looked like it was a break-in.” I smacked my hands together. “The family symbol. I knew that was the key to this. Polly found out when that Mr. Parker wasn’t her real dad by the DNA testing.” My mind continued to put together a plausible reason for Polly to have killed Doc. “Polly confronted her mother about the disease. Her mom knew that neither Mr. Parker nor herself had the disease. It was then that Polly realized Mr. Parker wasn’t her father and her mother had to come clean.” I continued to put the clues together. “That explains the stab wounds not being so deep. And since Doc wasn’t the strongest of men, elderly, Polly was strong enough to break the thermometer and hold the mercury beads up to his mouth after she had somehow wrestled him to the ground.” I tapped my finger on the wheel. “And we can’t forget about the teeth.”
“That’s where she went wrong. A good criminal would never do anything to give herself away. She wanted revenge for not only her mother’s affair, but for giving her the HSP.” Poppa still looked shocked.
“And that explains the post-mortem stab wounds. Polly was angry with him.” I started the car and grabbed my phone.
When the jail’s answering machine picked up, I left a message. “Wyatt, since you aren’t at the jail, I’m going to run by your house. I hope you’re there. I know who killed Doc Walton, the motive, and why they broke into the jewelry store.”
“I knew you could do it, Kenni-bug.” Poppa and Duke both sat in the passenger seat.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I pushed the pedal down to the ground. I couldn’t wait to get to Wyatt’s. He was going to be just as happy as I was that this was a solved case.
Thank goodness I was the law because I drove as fast as I could, disregarding the speed limit. I had to get to Wyatt’s so we could get our warrants in a row and put Polly Parker behind bars without any backlash from her father. Mr. Parker had a way of making things disappear and I was sure if I didn’t cross my T’s and dot my I’s on this case, he would find some sort of loophole and she’d never be brought to justice.
No wonder Mrs. Parker didn’t want to talk to me. No wonder Polly had gotten defiant. There was no doubt in my mind that the Parkers would do anything to keep this little family secret buried in the backyard. Even murder.
I made it back to Cottonwood in record speed.
“Lookie there.” Poppa pointed at the small station wagon when we pulled up in front of Wyatt’s house. “B3 G60 Syncro Passat, and the tires are muddy.”
&
nbsp; “And the mud came from the back of Doc Walton’s house.” I knew I had her. “Polly and Mr. Parker must be in there with Wyatt. I can’t let them leave. We need to enter the tires as evidence.”
I pulled past Wyatt’s house and parked on the street a couple of houses down. I grabbed my bag and took out the camera. If anything happened to the car, I would have pictures. I made sure my gun had bullets and slipped my shoulder holster around my chest, snapping it snug.
“It’s time to give Polly her bracelet back and give her the bad news,” I said to Poppa. He was raring to go and already out of the car waiting on the sidewalk.
In an ideal confrontation with a criminal, I would prefer to have backup. My only hope was that Wyatt was there.
When we got up to the car, I snapped several pictures of the tires from all different angles. I glanced around the street and didn’t see Wyatt’s car.
“Where’s Wyatt?” I asked Poppa.
“How would I know?” He shrugged. There was an irritated look on his face. I watched as he looked around. “Something isn’t right.”
“You feel it too?” I asked, and sat the butt of my hand on my gun. “Something’s going on in there.”
Poppa put his finger to his lips. He tiptoed to the back as if someone was going to hear him and I followed, only I had my gun out and gripped.
I busted in the back door with my gun stretched out in front of me.
“Where is Wyatt?”
Polly Parker was sitting at Wyatt’s kitchen table; Wyatt’s gun-cleaning kit was strewn out along with his shotgun.
“What is wrong with you, Kenni? I swear.” She grabbed the barrel of the gun. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Put the gun down now!” I jabbed my gun toward her. “I know all about your disease and Doc Walton being your daddy and the lengths you’ve gone to make sure no one knows.”
Her face turned fifty shades of red, ending in pink.
With one hand on my gun, I slipped the pearl bracelet out of my pants pocket. I swung it in the air.
