The Dead of Winter (A Piper Blackwell Mystery Book 1)
Page 26
“Talk about a cold case,” Paul said. “Double wow.”
Piper nodded. “Apparently he’d seen enough cop shows on TV to think if he made it look like Conrad was the victim of a serial killer, we wouldn’t look at him for the murder, and he could inherit it all without worry. So I’m guessing he bought the Merry Christmas mugs because he wanted a ‘signature.’ No idea why he didn’t kill the dogs and cats.”
“He was nuts.”
“Well, yeah, he had issues. I call him a sick bastard…a damaged one. But I think he’d been damaged for a while. Maybe it was all the drugs, leaving home, dropping out, more drugs. It’ll probably come out in a trial…trials. He’s facing charges in Spencer County, Henderson County, and in Owensboro. We have to sort through jurisdictional issues.” Piper listened as a medicine cart softly clattered by. A nurse came in and looked at the machine connected to Paul, took his pulse, then backed out without a word. “Yeah, Zachary wasn’t all there. But I think he’s sane enough that his attorney—Harlan Cook—won’t be able to put up a credible defense. A serial murderer? He’s not walking.”
Paul laughed. “Harlan Crook?”
“Cook. I said Harlan Cook.”
“Good attorney for Zachary to have signed with.” He pushed the tray away. “You’re not in your uniform.”
“Hell of a first week on the job, Dad. I’m taking the day off. I deserve it. Thought I’d spend some of it with you, then I’m gonna run down to Henderson and visit Oren. We started getting along yesterday.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get that. I’m taking tomorrow off, too.”
“What about Wrinkles? If you’re here—”
“Anthony’s watching him for a few days.”
“I like that dog,” Paul said. “I like that dog a lot. He’s got character. I want to get the hell out of here so I can get back to my dog.” A pause. “So what else can you tell me? Something I haven’t picked up from hospital scuttle?”
“Zachary’s probably going to be in the hospital as long as you…in Henderson. I put three bullets in him, and he lost a lot of blood. Nothing he won’t survive.” Piper tipped her head back. “Zachary told us the names of three more victims…who also sent him Christmas cards with just a signature. One in Spencer County, which we would have found when the snow melts; Zachary had packed her inside a snowman. JJ’s on that one. The woman had a cat, a very skinny one that is recovering at Oren’s vet. The other two victims were from the outskirts of Henderson—and they’d been dead quite a while, dating back to a day after Zachary bought the mugs. Dr. Neufeld said she was happy the Henderson County coroner had to deal with those souls.”
“Impressive,” Paul pronounced. “You’re so damn impressive. Don’t know how you’ll top your first case.”
“I don’t want to top my first case,” she returned quickly. “I don’t want Spencer County to face another serial killer. Not while I’m here anyway. And I don’t want another week like this ever again. I’d like it to go back to being Sleepy Spencer County.” She got up from the bed. “I’m gonna get me some coffee. Then I’ll be back, and you can tell me about some of your cases until—”
“—until my meds kick in, I fall asleep, and then you go see Oren?”
“And then I’m going out for dinner. Home cooked, something called—” She paused, trying to remember how Nang had pronounced it. “Bún Thịt Nướng, and pear wine. I’m not sure, but I think it might be a date.”
~ * ~
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Jean Rabe
jeanerabe@gmail.com
Message from the Author
Dear Reader:
In earlier years I worked as a news bureau chief covering Kentucky and Southern Indiana. I dealt with sheriffs and moonshiners, headline-grabbing incidents at Fort Campbell, and traipsed around the rural counties in my free time. I always thought the area would be a great setting for a novel. When I recently started writing mysteries I decided I should follow through.
I called on some folks at the Fort Campbell Army base to help me craft my sheriff’s military background—I needed her to be plausible and possible; visited Rockport, IN, and chatted about the local politics and elections; stopped in the sheriff’s office; cruised the rural stretches of road; and ogled the Christmassy sights in Santa Claus.
And all the while I calculated where to put the killer’s victims.
Piper Blackwell has another case coming up, in a novel tentatively titled The Dead of Night. I hope you continue to read her adventures.
Find me on the web at www.jeanrabe.com.
Jean Rabe
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Jean Rabe has written thirty-five fantasy and adventure novels and more than eighty short stories. The Dead of Winter is her first mystery, a cozy police procedural, of which she was told there is “no-such genre.”
When she’s not writing, which isn’t often, Jean edits. She has edited more than two dozen anthologies and over one hundred magazine issues so far. She’s a former news reporter and news bureau chief who penned a true crime book with noted attorney F. Lee Bailey. Her genre writing includes military, science-fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy, mystery, horror, and modern-day adventure.
Jean teaches genre writing courses at conventions, libraries, museums, and other interesting venues. Her hobbies include reading, role-playing games, visiting museums, dog-minding, and buying books to add to her growing stacks. She lives in central Illinois near three train tracks that provide “music” to type by, and she shares her home with three dogs and a parrot.
Visit her at:
Website: www.jeanrabe.com
Blog: jeanerlenerabe.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jean.rabe.1
Twitter: twitter.com/jeanerabe
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/jean-rabe-3875584
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