“Sorry she missed me, huh?” asked Kristy skeptically.
“Don’t be so cynical,” Sam told her. “Mama always liked you.”
“So why did you fake your death? How did you fake your death? You sure as hell looked dead to me.”
“Heavy make-up and low lighting,” said Sam, leaning over the desk conspiratorially. “Plus the fact that nobody much cared enough to give me a good look in there. Kinda hurt you didn’t notice it though.”
“I was too giddy at the thought of you being dead,” said Kristy. Damn, she thought. How long does it take the police to get here when you push a panic button?
Sam laughed again. “My daddy got the idea. He took out one of those life insurance policies on me - the kind that pays big if you die in an accident. Then all we had to do was push that old wreck of a truck I had off Boebecker Hill and get the coroner to sign off on accidental death.”
Kristy shook her head. “I should have known it was too good to be true,” she said. “I heard your daddy was dead too. I suppose that was a fake?”
“Oh no,” said Sam. “We lost Daddy a couple of years after that. Mama’s living on his half of the insurance money.”
“Lovely,” said Kristy. “Sam, why are you here?”
“To kill you, of course,” he said, as if murder were an everyday occurrence. “I always promised I would. I paid someone to do it for me, but he couldn’t get the job done so here I am.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Kristy. “How did you even know where I was? I signed my old name in that guest book.”
“You sure did. After Daddy died and I couldn’t use his police connections to search for you, it’s like you just dropped off the planet.”
“Then how did you find me?”
“That guy I paid to kill you - I had already paid him to track you down and sure enough, he found you. I don’t know how he did it, but he sent me your picture as proof. He wouldn’t tell me where you were so I had to pay him again to have you killed.”
“But it didn’t work?” asked Kristy. She had to keep him talking.
“Nah. I got a call from this guy - calls himself ‘The Boss’ - the guy he sent to kill you got cold feet so he’d had to get rid of him,” Sam laughed again. “I told him just keep the money and tell me where you were. He sent me directions to Casper and had me meet up with one of his men. We went to a parade and there you were, big as bold.”
“The Solstice Parade,” said Kristy. So he was indeed one of the two men Emma had overheard.
“I went to the rodeo that night, keeping my eye on you, waiting for the perfect time.” He stared at Kristy, looking her up and down slowly until she looked away. “It has been a long time, Melissa. Too long.”
“You were at the rodeo,” Kristy prompted.
“When I saw you come out of that ladies room all covered in blood, it occurred to me that it might be more fun to frame you for murder than to kill you myself. After all,” he reasoned, “I can only kill you one time and then the fun’s over. Frame you for murder and I can enjoy that forever.”
“So you followed me to Cheri’s house that night?” Kristy asked.
“I got a call from The Boss telling me you’d be there. I don’t know how he knew, but I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I got there before of you and parked up the road a piece. I didn’t want to make noise that might attract attention,” he said, looking at his gun, “so I grabbed the tire iron out of my car.”
“Oh my God,” said Kristy. “You waited for me to leave then you killed Ann Rutledge.”
Sam laughed and Kristy balled her hands into fists to keep from jumping up at him. How could she have ever loved this monster? “I knew they’d think it was you seeing as you were the last one with her. When I saw them bring you out of your apartment in handcuffs, I tell you, that was the best day ever.”
“They know I didn’t kill her,” said Kristy. “As soon as Cheri remembered who attacked her at the Solstice, any motive I might have had to kill Officer Rutledge vanished.”
Sam looked disappointed, then brightened. “Yeah, that was a disappointment, but any day you kill a cop is a good day.”
“Your own father was a cop!” said Kristy incredulously.
“That is entirely beside the point, Melissa.”
“Oh my God,” said Kristy. She stood up and started for the door. “What did I ever see in you? Get out of here!”
Sam stopped laughing. His eyes became slits and as he stood, he towered over Kristy, intimidating even without the gun. “You forget I came here to kill you,” he said menacingly.
Kristy pulled the door open and turned to him, “You won’t do it here, the whole world will hear you. Get out,” she said again.
Sam raise his gun and fired, hitting Kristy in the chest. The force of the bullet spun her around and threw her against the wall beside the door, which was pushed closed from the force. “Nobody talks to me like that,” Sam said.
He walked up to where Kristy lay, face down and unmoving. He raised his gun to fire again but the door burst open, hitting his arm and knocking the gun from his hand. Three uniformed officers rushed into the room and had Sam on the floor, hands cuffed and pulled up and out of the room almost before he knew what hit him.
Joyner stood in the hall looking with disgust at the man who had caused so much suffering. “Get him out of here,” he told the officers.
“You’re too late, cop!” Sam shouted over his shoulder as the policemen pulled him down the hall.
Joyner went into Emma’s reception area and knelt over Kristy’s body, still face down on the floor. Gently, he rolled her over. A gaping hole in her blouse showed where the bullet hit but there was no blood. Sitting on the floor, he lifted Kristy into a sitting position and cradled her in his arms.
Her eyelids fluttered then opened. Joyner smiled down at her. “You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt,” she said accusingly.
“Yeah, forgot to mention that,” said Joyner, still smiling. “Stopped the bullet though.”
“Did you get enough to put him away?” she asked.
“We heard everything,” he assured her.
Just then Emma came racing into the room. She dropped down beside Kristy, taking her hand and brushing the hair from her friend’s face gently. “Kristy, are you all right? I saw him outside. He told me he shot you.”
“He did,” said Kristy.
Emma looked at Joyner angrily. “Why are you just sitting there grinning like an idiot?” she asked. “Why haven’t you called an ambulance. Do something!”
Kristy smiled weakly at her friend and employer. “It’s ok, Emma, really. Detective Joyner had me wear this.”
Kristy showed Emma the police-issued bullet proof vest she was wearing underneath her blouse. It had stopped the bullet, though the force of the blow had knocked her off her feet. “I’m fine. Just had the wind knocked out of me.”
Emma threw her arms around Kristy, dislodging Joyner, who sat back. “I’ve never been so happy in all my life,” she told her.
“Don’t tell Jake that,” said Kristy, her sense of humor unbruised. “Might hurt his feelings.”
18
Three weeks later, Jake, Emma, Kristy and Cheri were sitting on the back patio of Cheri’s home along the river, watching the water slip peacefully over the rocks. As Detective Joyner had guessed, the County Attorney had reached an agreement with Kayla Hutchinson, who pled guilty of aggravated assault in exchange for serving six months in jail and completing 3 years of supervised probation. Some grumbled, but Cheri was satisfied with the outcome.
Sam Runyan was fighting the multiple charges against him in spite of the fact that he had bragged about his crimes both to Kristy and to the policemen overhearing their conversation in the hall. Emma had been furious with Joyner when she’d learned he deliberately delayed entering her office when they heard Runyan confessing his crimes to Kristy.
“She could have been killed,” Emma fumed at Joyner.
“She was wearing a flak jacket,” he told her. “She knew if she could get him talking, he’d tell her everything. We might not have had a case against him if he hadn’t.”
“What if he had shot her in the head?” asked Emma. “Your precious flak jacket wouldn’t have saved her then.”
“It was a risk she was willing to take, Emma,” said Joyner. “She wanted to be free of him.”
Emma hadn’t liked it, but Kristy defended Joyner. Sam would be out of her life for good this time and with a confession, he would be facing capital murder for killing a police officer. That was something she was willing to risk her life for.
“Besides,” she told Emma. “Ann Rutledge died because of me. Giving her justice is the only thing I can do for her and for her family.”
“I’ve been thinking of something else we can do for poor Ann,” said Cheri. “At least, in her memory. I spoke with her mother at the memorial service. They are going to set up a scholarship fund in Ann’s name to help young women who want to pursue careers in criminal justice. I think we should put our heads together and come up with a Welcome Wagon fundraiser to help get them off to a good start.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Kristy and the others chimed in with their agreement. They were tossing out ideas when Cheri’s doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” offered Jake. He returned in a moment with Detective Joyner.
“Why Matthew Joyner,” said Cheri. “I almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform.”
Joyner laughed. He was wearing jeans and an old Casper Ghosts t-shirt. Jake handed him a beer and Joyner accepted it, taking a seat between Kristy and Emma.
“Now I know you’re off duty,” laughed Emma. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink a beer before.”
“Man can’t work all the time,” said Joyner.
“Speaking of work,” said Jake. “Which I hate to do, but there’s still a few loose ends in all of this.”
“What loose ends?” asked Emma.
“What about this man Runyan called The Boss?” Jake asked Joyner. “If Vince Shipton was the man The Boss sent to kill Kristy - that would explain why he suddenly decided to leave town.”
“And why he ended up dead instead,” agreed Joyner. “Though I don’t know why someone would kill Shipton but not just go upstairs and kill Kristy too.”
“That’s true,” mused Jake.
“Thank God for small favors,” said Kristy. “What about the little guy Sam said worked for The Boss? We’re assuming he would have killed Shipton?”
“That’s the assumption we’re going on at the moment. We have known his identity for some time,” said Joyner. “We’ve got a statewide APB out on him. It’s only a matter of time before we track him down.”
“And he will lead you to The Boss,” finished Kristy, smiling up at Joyner.
“That’s the plan,” said Joyner, smiling down at her. Jake and Emma exchanged glances.
Cheri leaned over and whispered to Emma, “I think you’d better find someone else for Clint Taylor.” Emma giggled. Kristy looked over at her questioningly but Emma just smiled. It was good to see her happy.
Miles away from the happy group of friends by the river, a lone SUV was parked on a deserted two-track road, barely visible from lack of use. A man was digging diligently fifteen feet off the road. The only sound was his shovel scraping into the ground and the soft sound of the dirt as he worked.
It was hard digging but the man toiled on. The afternoon shadows were fading into evening when he finally stopped his excavation. Measuring the depth of the hole with the handle of his shovel, the man nodded his head, satisfied.
Opening the back of the SUV, he lifted a heavy bundle from the vehicle and carried it to where he’d been digging. Laying the tarp beside the hole, he tugged on it until it released its burden into the hole. He started to throw the tarp in after the body but stopped and turning, he folded the tarp and tucked it back into the SUV.
He returned to the grave and started shoveling dirt into it, covering the body of the man who had once killed for him. He hated to lose a loyal associate but the man had been identified and he could, in turn, identify him.
He finished his task and returned to the SUV, tossing the shovel into the back. He drove ten more miles then stopped to burn the tarp. For good measure, he tossed the gloves he’d been wearing into the fire. He watched the fire until it was embers then shoveled dirt over it. The last think he needed was a grass fire to call attention to this desolate area.
He stopped at a town two counties from home and vacuumed the interior of his SUV. The shovel was one of his good ones so when he took the SUV into the car wash, he hosed it off and tucked the shovel into the back.
As he drove home, he mulled over his future. This had gotten way out of hand, he told himself. He was confident he had taken care of things for now but how much farther could he push this game? Sooner or later, even the smartest criminal makes a mistake. He’d seen it happen to smarter men than he.
One more pay-off, he decided. He had time for one more job but he had to make it count. Then he could stop.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Crowder spent more than 20 years working in nonprofit human services before retiring in 2011. She opened a business and career consulting firm, Focus Forward, and in 2012 published her first book to put her philosophy of goal achievement into words.
Life Isn’t Just Luck: Getting from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be is available on Kindle and in paperback.
A lifelong reader of mystery novels, Crowder wrote the first Jake & Emma Mystery, Too Cute to Kill, as a labor of love. Crowder lives with her husband Allen, dog Reese and eleven cats in her adopted home town of Casper, Wyoming.
Linda Crowder - Jake and Emma 02 - Main Street Murder Page 13
