“You mean, they could choose not to file charges against her because of the circumstances?” asked Cheri.
“If we go to them ourselves,” Jake continued, “and present the facts and the desperation of her situation, I think they could very well agree not to pursue the matter. It’s in Kristy’s best interest to get the matter cleared up so she can finally have that freedom she told Matt about.”
“Speaking of which,” said Joyner. “I still have two murders to solve.”
“Oh, I hope Kayla didn’t attack Ann,” said Cheri. “She looked so stunned after she stabbed me. Somehow she doesn’t seem the type to kill a police officer.”
Kayla Hutchinson admitted to stabbing Cheri Jackson but flatly denied having anything to do with the attack on Officer Rutledge. “I was working at the food window at the Solstice,” she’d told Joyner. “It was the only job I could find after that bitch fired me. Casper’s a small town and you know no other bank was going to touch me after that.”
“You filed a grievance?” asked Joyner.
Kayla snorted, “Fat lot of good that did. Wyoming doesn’t care about the injustices of workers. I saw Ms. Jackson as I was going in to meet with the Labor Board. She just smirked at me, like I wasn’t good enough to shine her shoes.”
“And at the Solstice?”
“I saw her standing in the line for the ladies room next door to my booth and I just went crazy. I guess I just had this wild thought that because of her, flipping burgers was going to be the only job I was ever going to find. She ruined my life!”
“So you were angry?” asked Joyner.
“I just wanted to scare her,” said Kayla, starting to cry. Joyner sighed. He hated it when they cried, especially since he knew Kayla would be crying out of self-pity, not for any pain she had caused her victim.
“The intermission rush was ending so I grabbed a knife from the food prep and slipped it into my apron,” she told him. “Then I told them I just had to go to the bathroom and I went over there. I hid in one of the stalls until I saw her come out and go over to the sinks.”
She looked up at Joyner pleadingly. “There wasn’t anybody else around. I was just so mad.”
“So you stabbed her?” asked Joyner.
Kayla smiled to herself. “I came out of the stall and she turned around and saw me. I saw the look in her eyes - like I was dirt. I showed her.”
“Yes, you did,” agreed Joyner. He switched off the recorder and left the room, sending a uniformed officer in to formally arrest Kayla Hutchinson for attempted murder. The County Attorney’s office would probably plead it down to aggravated assault but he didn’t have any control over what they did. At least Clint Taylor hadn’t argued with him when he’d called him and asked to have the charges against Kristy Castle dropped.
“Does this mean you’re dropping her as a suspect in the murders too?” was all he had asked.
Putting Kayla behind bars for the attack on Cheri closed one case but it made the murder of Ann Rutledge that much more mystifying. He’d assumed she was killed by someone wanting to keep Cheri from identifying her attacker but Kayla had an alibi. She’d been working as a waitress in a local bar and several people verified that she’d been run off her feet that night. She didn’t seem to have a boyfriend or brother, or anyone else for that matter, who would risk his own future by attacking a police officer.
He would have to investigate Ann Rutledge now, to see if there was anyone in her life who might have wanted to harm her and had taken advantage of the opportunity to pin the attack on someone else. There hadn’t been enough time, according to Cheri’s account of the evening, for someone to have approached her after Kristy Castle left unless that person had deliberately lain in wait. He didn’t relish having that conversation with her grieving parents.
Cheri, Emma and Jake sat with Kristy in the living room of her apartment, a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. They’d waited at the jail until the call came through from the County Attorney’s office that the charges had been dropped. Kristy had almost fallen into Cheri and Emma’s arms leaving the lock-up and the three friends clung together, offering mutual strength and compassion.
They’d spent the afternoon and into the evening talking over all that had happened. Kristy told them of her life as a girl in Tennessee and her marriage that had turned from hopeful to horrible almost before the honeymoon was over. She told them of her life on the run and the terror she felt every time she realized that her ex-husband had managed to track her down again.
All three women cried then cheered when Kristy told of her relief at attending his viewing and looking down into his face, knowing she was finally safe. Jake hadn’t said much, letting the ladies talk and making mental notes of what he would later want to share with the US Attorney when he proposed leniency given Kristy’s circumstances.
When they broke out the wine, Jake had excused himself and made a run to their favorite Chinese food restaurant. Remnants of the meal were scattered along the bar and on the table next to the wine.
“It feels good to tell you girls everything,” said Kristy. “Oh, and you too Jake.” They all laughed. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to but I don’t know what it is. I guess I got in the habit of lying where my past was concerned.”
“It’s ok,” said Emma. “You’re safe now.”
“Yes,” agreed Cheri, “and I guess that means I am too, since nobody will be trying to kill me now that my memory has returned.”
“Poor Ann Rutledge,” said Emma. “I wonder if we’ll ever know who killed her.”
“Or who killed Vince Shipton,” noted Kristy. “Jake, you don’t think Detective Joyner still thinks I did it?”
“I don’t know,” answered Jake. “He has as much reason to think so now as he did before, I suppose, since he was never convinced Shipton’s murder was connected to the attack on Cheri.”
“Well I hope he catches the real killer soon,” said Kristy. “I don’t like being a suspect.”
The intercom buzzed, interrupting their speculation. They all looked at Kristy who shrugged her shoulders and went to find out who would buzz when the door wouldn’t be locked for another three hours. Kristy pressed the intercom button, “Who is it?” she spoke into the built-in microphone.
“It’s me, baby,” came a voice from the speaker. “Miss me?”
Kristy leapt back from the intercom as though she’d been bitten by a snake. The others rushed to join her in by the door. Kristy was deathly pale and shaking uncontrollably.
“What is it, Kristy?” asked Emma, her voice concerned but struggling to stay calm.
“Who was that?” asked Cheri.
“It can’t be,” mumbled Kristy, almost to herself. The others had to lean close to hear her. “He’s dead. I saw him in the casket.”
In the hallway outside, they heard the elevator chime indicating the car had arrived on Kristy’s floor. Kristy shook herself and sprang to the door, bolting it shut. Jake moved the ladies behind him and looked out the peep hole which had a direct view of the elevator. The doors slid open, then closed again.
Jake turned back toward the women, who were looking at him anxiously. “There was no one there,” he said. “Whoever it was must have pushed the third floor and sent the elevator up empty.”
He strode quickly across the room, followed by the three women, and looked down toward the building’s entrance. A tall man in a baseball cap stood looking up at them. He raised his arm and pointed his finger at the window as if shooting a gun. Kristy screamed and fainted.
Jake pulled out his cell phone and called the police while Emma and Cheri attended to Kristy. He watched the man stroll leisurely across the street and disappear down a cross street that led to the City’s parking garage. Jake explained the situation to the dispatcher and was assured an officer was on the way.
He hung up the phone and knelt beside Emma, who had helped Kristy sit up. He helped her get Kristy off the floor and onto a chair while Cheri went t
o the kitchen for a glass of water. Kristy drank it in a daze.
When the police arrived, Detective Joyner followed the uniformed officer into the apartment. Kristy was still pale but her face had lost that frightening gray tone. Her eyes still looked haunted as Detective Joyner knelt in front of Kristy’s chair and gently placed a hand on her arm. “What is it, Ms. Castle?” he asked. “Who was he?”
“It was Sam,” she said, her voice still harboring a tinge of panic.
“Are you sure?” asked Joyner, frowning. He’d checked the record himself when he verified her story. He had read a photocopy of Sam Runyan’s death certificate.
“I know,” she said, looking into his eyes. Joyner’s heart twisted at the sight of pure terror in those eyes. “I thought he was dead. I went to his viewing. I saw his body.”
Kristy started shaking again and Emma put her arm around Kristy’s shoulder and rocked gently. Kristy Castle, ever a rock, always the strongest person in the room, started to cry. She buried her face in Emma’s shoulder and sobbed.
Joyner and Jake stepped back and Joyner called over the uniformed officer. “Radio it in,” he told the man. “Put out a BOLO on Sam Runyan, the picture and description are on my desk. Then I want you to come back and stand guard in front of this door. I’ll send reinforcements when I can.”
“Yes sir,” said the officer, who quickly left to speak with the police dispatcher.
Joyner turned to Jake. “I read that man’s death certificate,” he told him. “The state of Tennessee thinks he’s dead.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Matt.” Jake gestured to where Kristy still sat, her tears subsiding now but her distress evident. “Whoever it was, he certainly frightened Kristy.”
“It was the man I heard at the parade,” said Emma. She’d left Kristy in Cheri’s hands and joined the two men. They looked at her now in surprise. “I recognized his voice on the intercom.”
Joyner looked dubious but Jake sided with Emma. “You know, now that you mention it Emma, I did think he looked familiar.” They walked to the window and looked down at where the man had been. “The camera angle is different, of course,” observed Jake, “but the height is about right. He did resemble the man in the picture you showed us.”
“It was him,” said Emma firmly.
“I wonder if he’s the same guy who Kristy said had been leaning on her buzzer in the middle of the night, remember, Matt?” Jake asked. Joyner did remember her saying that when they’d gone to question her after the murder of Officer Rutledge.
“What’s he doing here?” Emma asked. They looked at Kristy, who had stopped crying and was following their conversation.
“How did he find me?” asked Kristy.
“And why isn’t he dead?” asked Cheri. No one knew the answers.
17
The autopsy results for Ann Rutledge were on Joyner’s desk when he got to his office the next morning. None of them had felt comfortable leaving Kristy alone with her seemingly un-dead ex-husband on the loose. Since none of them could agree who should stay with her, they’d all stayed. All-nighters were part of the job for a cop, even in a sleepy town like Casper, so Joyner had been up and gone before any of the rest had awakened.
He read through the report hoping for answers but not finding any. The coroner ruled death by a blow from a blunt object and speculated the object would have been heavy, metal and square. No surprise there either, since that description fit most tire irons, a weapon that would be on hand for any would-be murderer with a car.
He brought out a legal pad and started doodling, something he’d learned to do in college when he wanted to spur a little creative thinking. Kristy Castle had been on the scene, in her car and was the last person to have seen Ann Rutledge alive.
She could have lured Ann outside by taking advantage of the cat fight, then grabbed the tire iron out of her vehicle and attacked her with it. It would have taken almost no time. She could have done it and still had time to be at Just Gas at the time her gas purchase had been recorded.
Except that Kristy had no motive to harm Cheri. If Ann Rutledge and not Cheri had been the intended victim, he knew of no motive she could have to want to kill her either.
He crossed out Kristy’s name and wrote “Kayla Hutchinson” on the line below it. Kayla would have had a motive to kill Cheri because she knew Cheri could identify her. She was still seething about being fired, so killing Cheri would have had a personal motive as well. If she had gone to Cheri’s house to confront her, she could have killed Ann, taking advantage of the fact that the policewoman had escorted Kristy to her car.
Kayla would have had to drive from the bar where she worked so she would have had access to a tire iron. If she’d done it on her lunch break, she would have had just enough time to drive to Cheri’s home, attack Ann Rutledge, do a cursory search for Cheri before fleeing at the sound of the sirens. She could have made it back to the restaurant before her lunch was over.
He pulled his notebook out of his desk and thumbed through it until he reached the pages which held his notes of the interviews he’d done with Kayla’s boss, co-workers and a couple of patrons. He crossed Kayla’s name off the list. She’d taken her lunch sitting at a table with a couple of friends, in plain sight. She hadn’t left the bar from the start of her shift to the end.
Joyner stared at the legal pad. “Ann?” he wrote. What if Ann Rutledge had been the intended victim all along and her killer only rattled the doorknob to frighten Cheri and divert suspicion?
That was a thought, but Ann’s parents had been adamant. There was no one in Ann’s life who would have done something like that. He hadn’t been able to find even a whiff of Ann having trouble with her fiancé. Police always have enemies but Ann had not been part of any particularly acrimonious arrests. Certainly not the kind that would drive a perp to track her down and murder her out of revenge.
He sat staring at the wall, lost in thought, for he didn’t know how long. Then a thought came to him with sudden clarity. He didn’t have all of puzzle pieces but he had enough to recognize the picture. He made a short phone call then unlocked the drawer where he kept his service revolver when he was in the office.
Clipping the holster on his belt, Joyner made a stop at the equipment locker and another one at the desk of the Patrol Supervisor before heading out. He had a plan and if he was right, he might just catch a killer today.
Emma looked uncertain. “Are you sure you want me to go?” she asked Kristy. “I don’t need to and I don’t like the thought of you being here alone with Sam Runyan out there somewhere.”
“I’m fine, Emma,” Kristy assured her. She opened the drawer to show Emma the 9mm she always kept there when she was at work. “I’ve dealt with him before. By now, he’s probably figured out that the police are looking for him. He’ll lay low until he decides it’s safe, then he’ll come crawling out of the woodwork like the cockroach that he is. When he does, I’ll be ready.”
Emma hesitated. “You really don’t think he’ll do anything for awhile?”
“I’ve known him a long time. I know how he thinks. Trust me, he’s hiding out.”
“All right,” said Emma reluctantly. “But I’m leaving my phone on. You call me if you need anything at all. I’m only five minutes away.”
“Don’t worry, Emma. Go to your Rotary meeting and try not to think about it. Believe me, fear is no way to live.” Emma finally left and Kristy locked the office door behind her. She wasn’t as sure of what Sam would do as she’d made Emma believe. After all, he’d obviously found a way to fake his own death and that was something she never saw coming.
Sitting at her desk, she cast her mind back to that day at the funeral home. She’d seen Sam’s body in his coffin. Surely it had to be him. He hadn’t looked pale, but no one ever did at a funeral since mortuaries used heavy make up as they prepared bodies for viewing.
Had he been laying there in the coffin, alive the whole time? What if he’d opened his eyes while she st
ood looking down at him. Kristy shuddered and tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t help picturing the horror she would have felt if he’d reached up out of the coffin and tried to pull her in.
She heard a soft noise at the door and her hand dropped beneath the desk. She felt for the panic alarm Joyner had given her and held it as she watched the door slowly open.
“You should know better than to think you could keep me out with a locked door, Melissa.” It was Sam, alive and evil as ever. Kristy pushed the button and held it down, just to be sure the signal had gone out.
“You should know I liked you better when you were dead,” she told him, letting the alarm slide noiselessly to the floor and pushing it under the drawer.
Sam laughed. Kristy’s spine tingled at the memory of that laugh. She knew that some men turned violent when they were angry, venting their frustrations on wives or girlfriends, claiming to be out of control. They controlled their anger just fine in front of other men.
That had never been Sam. Sam enjoyed inflicting pain. Kristy had learned that lesson early and well. She knew by the tone of his laugh that he was planning to inflict pain on her. She reached unobtrusively for the drawer that held her gun.
“Looking for something?” Sam asked, pulling his own gun from his pocket. “I know you keep a gun in there, Melissa.”
“The name’s Kristy,” she said, hiding her surprise. How did he know about the gun? “Kristy Castle.”
Sam leaned menacingly against her desk, one hip perched next to her inbox. “You can call yourself anything you want, Melissa, and you can bleach that beautiful red hair of yours but you’ll always be my Melissa.”
Kristy pushed her chair back, increasing the distance between them. “Why aren’t you dead?” she asked.
Sam laughed again. “Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’,” he drawled.
“You faked your death just to draw me out of hiding?” Kristy asked.
“Hell no,” Sam snorted. “That was just a happy accident. Oh my mama just roared when she saw your name in that guest book at the funeral home.”
Linda Crowder - Jake and Emma 02 - Main Street Murder Page 12
