1 Target of Death

by Madison Johns

  A waitress glided over and brought two shot glasses with a clear liquid in them. I ran a finger along the rim of mine. “You must be a regular here.”

  He stretched an arm across the top of his seat. I couldn’t help but notice his muscular physique. “You could say that, and you were about to tell me why you look familiar to me.”

  “Was I?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Dixie stride up. She pushed her way next to Cody, who didn’t seem to mind as he said, “I sure like where this is going.”

  Dixie shot a glance at the shot glasses. “What are we drinking?”

  “Tequila,” Cody said.

  “Oh, that’s not good. Sassy over there gets wild when she drinks tequila.”

  I slid my glass toward Dixie, but Cody gave me his glass. “Drink up, girls.”

  There was something about this Cody that unnerved me. Did Margarita have it right? Was this Cody actually a deputy? If he was, he was sure taking a big risk to place himself in such an awkward situation, but I realized that he might just play into my hands perfectly.

  “Actually, Dixie and I went into a ditch just outside of town and were questioned by the police, but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

  “That must be it, then. I was holding back. The sheriff never allows me to question potential witnesses.”

  “Oh, so you work for the sheriff’s department?”

  “As in deputy?” Dixie asked with a drawl.

  “Yup. I sure love that accent you girls have.”

  “Has the sheriff figured out who killed that poor man in the woods?”

  He stiffened, and then said, “I suppose you girls know I can’t tell you anything about that. I mean, I’m sure you saw that on an episode of Law and Order SVU.”

  “Oh, is there a sex crime involved here?”

  “Well, there might be since we found Clayton with his pants around his ankles.”

  Dixie choked on the tequila. “No way.”

  Cody glanced around and leaned his elbows on the table. “I could get into trouble if anyone told the sheriff I was sharing information about a crime scene.”

  “So why are you, then?”

  “I was hoping you girls could come home with me.” He winked. “I’d sure love to see you girls get together,” he hinted.

  I stiffened at that, but Dixie giggled. “As you were saying about the crime scene…”

  I hoped she was making it quite clear that we weren’t going anywhere unless he spilled his guts more.

  “There were two sets of footprints going in, Clayton’s and someone with smaller feet.”

  “A woman, perhaps?”

  “Or someone with small feet.”

  “We heard at Curls and Cuts that the sheriff believes Clayton was lured out there.”

  His faced hardened. “That damn Patsy has a big mouth.”

  I rubbed my hand over Cody’s. “And?”

  “There was a voicemail that came in. An unidentified female called and asked Clayton to meet her in their usual spot. The sheriff believes it was in the woods.”

  “Were you able to trace the call?”

  “No, it seems that whoever made the call used one of those throw-away phones. It could have been anyone.”

  “That’s odd. It sounds like premeditated murder here, but it seems odd that Clayton actually went into the woods in the middle of winter for a lover’s tryst.”

  “Actually, there’s a cabin close by, but sometimes men will do just about anything to get a little on the side.”

  “I agree. They might even put their job in jeopardy,” said an angry male voice, which happened to belong to Sheriff Price. He was dressed casually, but the lines across his face became deep-set as he frowned. “If you’ve told these women anything that jeopardizes our case, I’ll see you in prison, alongside whoever did this.”

  I swallowed hard. “He didn’t tell us anything of any use. We already knew that Clayton cheated on his wife and paid for lap dances at Hank’s Hotspot, but what I haven’t figured out is where did he get all that money he was flashing all over town?”

  The sheriff’s brow shot up. “I don’t see how any of this is your business.”

  “You made it our business when you searched our vehicle and practically accused me of murdering Clayton.”

  Sheriff Price absorbed what I said and shook his head. “It was the logical thing to do at the time, but I did some investigating and your story checks out. You had just come into town, like you said. Daniel also gave us a timeframe that accounted for the time you spent in the ditch before he pulled you out. I sure hope you aren’t getting Margarita into any trouble. That lady has enough woes as it is.”

  Margarita wobbled forward and said, “Nonsense. Meeting these girls is the best thing that ever happened to me. They even helped me create some Cajun dishes that have put my business back on track.”

  “It should do much better now, since we closed down Hank’s Hotspot.”

  Margarita’s face whitened. “Oh, my. I had no idea. I should have just shut my yap earlier at Curls and Cuts.”

  His brow shot up. “That adds up. So, you were the one who let the cat outta the bag. I’d keep that to yourself, if I were you.”

  “Great advice,” I said. “Is it illegal to have a strip club? I heard they have one in Harrison.”

  “We have ordinances against such businesses. If Hank wants to open a place like that, he’ll have to get the proper licenses and locate it out of town.”

  “That would take months, though.”

  “If he’d done it the right way, he wouldn’t have found himself in trouble now.”

  “Do you have any idea where Clayton might have come into money recently?”

  “You just don’t quit.”

  “It’s a simple question,’ Margarita said, “unless you’re hiding something.”

  “I’m not saying another word, ladies. This is an ongoing investigation ... one that I hope you’ll butt out of. It’s also dangerous. One man has been murdered already. If you keep poking into the case, who knows what might happen? You might start looking like a threat to whoever killed Clayton.”

  The sheriff left before we could say another word. Cody slid out of the seat and caught up with him.

  “Lucky for us the sheriff showed up when he did. That deputy had the wrong idea about us,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Dixie said. “He was under the impression that we’d go home with him tonight if he shared information with us. How crazy is that?”

  “I’m sure you girls needed to lead him on like that, but Cody has quite the reputation and he’s dreadfully handsome.”

  “He’s too cocky for me.” Of course Daniel was, too, but that was in more of a competitive way. That I could relate to. “Well, that certainly didn’t go according to plan, but now we know that Clayton was killed with his pants down and a female lured him into the woods. We just have to figure out who and why,” I said.

  “I think we need to get onto that money trail,” Margarita added. “Have you questioned Clayton’s friends or his boss yet?”

  “That’s our next move, but I have no idea how to find Barry Haskel and Marty Novak. Do you, Margarita?”

  “Sure do. They’re sitting across the room. I’d like to take part in the questioning this time. Barry is the nephew of one of my regular customers, Bud Haskel. He’s not so happy that he spends the majority of time in the bar drinking.”

  I downed my shot before we walked across the room. By the time we reached the other side where the two men were arm wrestling, the alcohol had already hit me. I should have known better than to drink tequila. It had never made for rational thought in the past.

  Both men grunted in their efforts to throw their opponent’s arm down for the count. A chunky blonde stood off to the side, cheering them on,

  “Oh, come on, Marty. Show Barry who is boss,” she called.

  The one with a crew-cut bellowed, “What do you think I’m trying to do, woman.”


  Boom. Marty’s eyes bulged as he brought Barry’s arm down with a thump.

  “Owwww! Jesus, Marty! Are you trying to break my arm?” Barry asked, his voice slurring.

  Marty looked up at me. “Can I help you, ladies?” he asked with a cock of his head. His eyes were glassy with deep-set smile lines and I just could tell he was ‘mister social.’

  The blonde threw an arm around him. “I hope you haven’t come over here to try and steal my man away,” she said, as she doubled up a fist. She was almost laughable as her heavily made-up eyes widened.

  “Would you sit before you fall down, Margie?” Marty said.

  Margie toppled into a chair, continuing to glare at me. “I came over to offer you my condolences. I heard you and Clayton were friends.”

  Marty shook his head as tears appeared. “It’s so awful. I can’t believe my buddy went down like that.”

  “He was killed by an arrow, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why he’d have gone out there with a snowstorm on the way. It just makes no sense.”

  Barry cried into his beer. “He was my best friend.”

  “I heard he ran around on his wife, Marilyn.”

  Marty slapped the table, spilling the drinks. “Oh, her. I have no idea why he even married her. She thinks she’s too good to even get a job.”

  “So, you don’t think much of her, then?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know her, but she frowned on Barry and me stopping by.”

  Barry nodded, a huge frown on his face. “How true you are, buddy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was the one who killed Clayton.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, she was always spending his money, for one. She had packages delivered about daily to the house via UPS or FedEx. She was an HSN and QVC addict.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I heard Clayton only gave her a weekly allowance.”

  “And that’s why,” Marty said. “He took control of the purse strings about a year ago. Clayton kept it pretty quiet, though. He didn’t want anyone to know his business. That’s when he began to step out on Marilyn.”

  “Okay, so he started cheating on her only a year ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see, but I don’t think Marilyn has a good reason to want Clayton dead. If she didn’t even have a job, how would she support herself?”

  “Hard to tell, but I just don’t trust that woman, that’s all I’m saying,” Marty said. “Isn’t the spouse always a likely suspect when a husband is murdered?”

  “Usually, but Clayton was murdered with an arrow. Unless you know first-hand that Marilyn knows how to shoot one.”

  “I doubt that. She’s not into the outdoors and barely goes outside in the winter.”

  “I thought all you northern folks were used to the cold.”

  Margarita laughed. “So not true. I can feel the cold in my bones and it makes my knees ache something fierce.”

  “Do either of you have any knowledge about where Clayton got all of his money from?”

  Marty’s mouth dropped open. “News to me. He had money?”

  “How don’t you know? I thought you were his friend.”

  “Yes, but it’s not like I went through the man’s wallet.”

  “No, but Clayton gave you the money to get your Jeep back from the repo man, remember?” Barry reminded Marty.

  “Sure, and I paid him back, but he did have a job at Hank’s Tool and Die.”

  I nodded. “So, neither of you remember that Clayton was flashing cash in town?”

  They both shook their heads and I had no other option than to believe them. “Do you know of anyone who would want Clayton dead?”

  “I sure wish I did. I’d go after them myself. I miss Clayton so much,” Marty said, swiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

  I thanked the men, suggesting that someone run them home. They nodded, but I knew that most likely they’d drive themselves. Drinking and rational thought just didn’t belong in the same sentence.

  ***

  On the way back to the restaurant, I said, “It makes no sense that Clayton’s friends didn’t know anything about him flashing cash around town.”

  “Maybe they weren’t as close as Marilyn said,” Dixie pointed out.

  Margarita tapped the dashboard and added, “They sure added some details that will be hard to check out—like, did Marilyn overspend Clayton’s money to the point that he had to close the purse strings?”

  “Yes, since these two clowns were the only ones saying so. From the sounds of it, neither man cared much for her. The only way we’ll be able to sort this out is if we question Marilyn again.”

  “I’d hate to do that, Sassy. She’s been through enough already.”

  “Perhaps, but I haven’t cleared her in my mind just yet. I think she knows more about where the money came from than she’s letting on.”

  “Hopefully you meant tomorrow. I’m bushed,” Margarita said.

  “I am, too. And that tequila went straight to my head.”

  We drove past the now-completed ice sculptures that glistened in the moonlight. Once we were in bed at last, I fell asleep wondering if Marilyn indeed might have been responsible for her husband’s murder.

  Chapter Ten

  Bright and early the next morning, Margarita, Dixie, and I stood at Marilyn’s door, pounding to be let inside. I worked my fingers inside my gloves, trying to keep them from freezing. This morning was colder than any other since we had arrived. The wind was whipping, spraying us with blowing snow.

  “I can’t feel my toes,” Dixie complained. “Maybe she’s not home.”

  “Her car is in the driveway,” Margarita pointed out.

  My guts knotted in my stomach. “We need to get inside. I have a bad feeling.”

  Margarita rummaged through her purse, coming back with two metal rods. “What on earth are you planning to do with those?” I asked.

  “Pick the lock.”

  “What do you know about lock picking?”

  “Oh, let’s just say I’ve locked myself out more than a few times. Plus, I watched some YouTube videos.”

  YouTube explains it all. You can learn just about anything on there. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  Margarita took her gloves off and picked around at the lock until it opened. She smiled in triumph. “See. I told you I could do it. Lucky for us, the deadbolt wasn’t on.”

  I pushed open the door, and as I stepped in, my eyes widened at the mess. The couch had been overturned and the fabric had been ripped open.

  “Marilyn, are you here?” Margarita said with widened eyes. Not a sound could be heard; only the whistling wind outside.

  “We should call 911,” Dixie suggested.

  “Not yet. Let’s take a look around first, but try not to touch anything.”

  We made our way down the hallway, checking all of the rooms, but Marilyn was nowhere to be found. The bedroom was in the same condition as the living room. All the drawers were opened, the contents scattered on the floor.

  We gathered in the dining room, where all the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen were visible next to it with the same mess that was in the other rooms.

  “Where is Marilyn?” I mused aloud.

  “It’s obvious that whoever’s money that was came looking for it,” Margarita said. “We should leave. For all we know, the perpetrators might still be here.”

  I agreed with her, but froze when I spotted something lying in the snow just outside the patio door. I whipped open the door and made my way to a body that was on the ground, with an arrow protruding from it.

  “It’s Marilyn,” I said, dropping to my knees in shock. This finding a dead body was for the birds. I felt just sick that we hadn’t gotten there in time. And to think that I thought Marilyn might be guilty of killing her own husband. Not that I can say I’d blame her.

  “I knew it was a mistake leaving her here,” Margarita said, as she
stood near Marilyn’s body while Dixie called in the discovery that was just a few feet away from her.

  “We did our best, but she was insistent that she stay here. There just wasn’t anything we could do.” I breathed deeply and smelled chemicals coming from the shed, and as I walked toward it, we were thrown to the ground as it exploded with a “Boom.” Debris flew into the air and peppered us with wood chips and paper.

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked.

  Sirens sounded not too far off from us, and I helped Margarita and Dixie to their feet. We were all wide-eyed by the time the sheriff and the deputies entered the backyard.

  Sheriff Price stared from us to the body on the ground to the now burning shed. We stood together, shivering, and the sheriff suggested we go inside and wait for him.

  Deputy Jackson kept a watch over us until the sheriff joined us inside.

  “Killer wind-chill out. What brought you by today?”

  “I was just following a few leads and we had hoped to question Marilyn about her husband’s death. We were told she was quite the spender about a year ago and I wanted to find out if we were given the right information.”

  “And who told you that, may I ask?”

  “Clayton’s friends, Barry Haskel and Marty Novak.”

  “What else did they tell you?”

  “Nothing of much use. They didn’t seem to know much about Clayton at all. We were told that he was flashing cash around town and they seemed to be clueless about it, which surprised me.”

  “So you came here again why?”

  “We came here to ask her if it was true about her spending habits. She led us to believe that her husband kept her on an allowance. I wonder now if her spending habits might have been the reason. I wasn’t completely convinced that she was clueless about who might have wanted her husband dead. Shoot, she might have been the one who killed him, for all I know.”

  “Except for the fact that she hasn’t been known to go bow hunting, and, of course, she’s now dead. I think that exonerates her as the killer.”