Murder for the Holidays

by B. T. Lord

  “I’m interested in checking out the shadows thrown off by the streetlights.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “If there are shadows around the tree, the killer may have snuck up on him. But if it’s brightly lit, and he was shot at close range, then I’d say he probably knew his killer.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it? Like I said earlier, I can’t imagine him letting Dad within ten feet of him.”

  “It would help to find out exactly what the argument was about.”

  “Maybe you should have brought Zee’s magic brownies after all.”

  By the time they returned to the Northcott home, Harold and Pamela were back. They found Aunt Pru sitting on the sofa quietly knitting, seemingly oblivious to the thick tension permeating the house. Harold sat in his armchair, his face turned towards a football game on television, though his expression showed his thoughts were elsewhere. Pamela was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner.

  At the sound of the front door opening and Jace and Cammie entering, Harold turned and glared at them. “Where have you two been?” he demanded, his anger at Cammie still palpable.

  “Um…er…” Jace stammered.

  “We’ve been out trying to figure out who killed Walter Long,” Cammie responded bluntly. Harold stared at her in disbelief while Aunt Pru looked up from her knitting.

  “Why would you do something like that?” he asked, aghast.

  “Because Chief Knowlton is trying his best to pin this on you so he can celebrate Christmas without this case hanging over him and the town.” Harold visibly paled. “After dinner, I’d like you to tell me exactly what happened at the hardware store when you and Walter got into it.”

  “It was nothing. A stupid spat. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jace came up to his father. “Dad, Cammie wants to help you. She can’t do that if you won’t speak to her.”

  Harold jumped to his feet. “Who says I want her help? I’m sure the police know what they’re doing. They’ll see I’m innocent. Her interference is only going to make it worse.”

  “She’s an excellent investigator. Much better than Knowlton,” Jace persisted. “He hasn’t even interviewed Walter’s neighbors or his assistant at the bank.”

  The fear rolled off Harold, but he stubbornly refused to listen to his son.

  “It’s the holidays. I’m sure he’ll do that after Christmas.”

  “Harold, he wants to put you in jail before Christmas,” Cammie pointed out.

  “Then why hasn’t he done it yet?”

  “Because right now it’s just circumstantial. But I guarantee you he’s out there trying to find enough evidence to arrest you. He’ll look like the hero who solved this crime in record time and the town can settle down to enjoying their holidays without fear there’s a killer in their midst.”

  Harold scowled at her, his jaw tightening in barely suppressed rage. Suddenly he threw his arms up in the air. “You are the very last person I would ever want to speak to about this or about anything else. I’ll be damned if I allow you to ease your guilt for throwing my son in jail by pretending to help me!”

  And there it was in all its ugly glory. The reason he and his wife hated Cammie so much. It wasn’t a surprise. But having it thrown in her face was a confirmation she could have lived without.

  Harold abruptly turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs. A moment later they heard the bedroom door slam.

  “What is going on out here?” Pamela said as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

  “Harold is being Harold,” Aunt Pru spoke up. “Cammie wants to help, and he won’t let her.” She clicked her tongue in disgust. “He just can’t get past the fact that she had to arrest Jace all those years ago. He’s determined to cut his nose off to spite his face. Or spend twenty years in jail just to prove a point.”

  “Pru!” Pamela scolded angrily.

  “It’s true and you know it. This young woman, who just happens to be an excellent police officer despite what you and Harold are hellbent to believe, is willing to go the extra mile to help a man who hates her guts and has done nothing but insult her since she arrived.” Pru turned to Cammie. “You’re either a complete idiot or a very compassionate person.”

  “Probably a bit of both,” Cammie responded quietly.

  “Pru, I will not have you stand there and say such horrible things about Harold and I,” Pamela fumed as she gripped the dishtowel tightly in her hands. “Especially after we opened up our home to you—”

  “Oh, please. You did it to ease your own guilt over—”

  “I did not!” Pamela screamed shrilly. “How dare you!”

  “STOP!” Jace shouted sharply. Surprised by his unexpected outburst, Pamela and Pru immediately backed down. “We can’t continue to be at each other’s throat.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This isn’t doing anyone any good.”

  “Pamela,” Cammie spoke up. “I’d like to speak to you about what happened at the hardware store between Harold and Long. You were there. Your perspective—”

  “I refuse to speak about Walt. It’s over and done with. Do not ask me again.” She abruptly walked back into the kitchen. Jace turned a wearied face to Cammie.

  “I’m going to go talk to Dad.” In a lower voice he added, “Let it go for now with Mom.”

  After he disappeared up the stairs, Cammie looked at Pru, who turned her attention back to her knitting.

  “Alrighty then,” she whispered under her breath.

  Not sure what to do, she was saved from making a decision when her cell phone rang.

  “Sheriff Farnsworth,” she answered.

  “Sheriff, it’s Dale Beecham. We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cammie grabbed Jace’s keys from his coat pocket, told Pru she’d be right back and hurried outside to the truck. Following the directions Dale had given her, she found herself five minutes later parked behind the boarded-up concession stand located on the beach two blocks down from where the Northcotts lived. It was getting dark, and she could just make out an old Dodge truck in the parking lot when she arrived. As soon as she pulled up, the door opened, and Dale got out. He immediately climbed into the Ford.

  “Thought it best to not call attention to myself by driving the cruiser down here,” he said to Cammie’s unasked question.

  “What’s up?”

  He paused for a long moment. “First off, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression that I’m being disloyal to the chief, or to our department by calling you the way I did. I’ve never done this before.”

  “Alright,” she answered.

  “Look, I know what kind of an officer you are. Like I said when we met, I’ve followed your career since the Eli Kelley murder. I have a sense you don’t go in for political bullshit.”

  Before she could stop herself, Cammie guffawed. “You might say that.”

  “Now I don’t know if Harold Northcott is guilty or not. But I called you because I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

  “And that is?”

  Dale looked up and met her eye. “The chief is set to retire at the end of March. He’d like nothing better than to go off with a bang. You see, a few years back, we had a case that didn’t go well for him. A young man was attacked and almost beaten to death. Everyone believed it was drug related. The victim had a history of selling. The chief spent months slowly gathering the evidence, building up his case against one of the leading troublemakers in town. All fingers pointed to him, but the chief was determined to make the case stick. Some of the other officers kept pushing him to make an arrest, but he wanted to be absolutely sure. Unfortunately, the guy responsible for the beating attacked another young man and put him in a coma. Everyone was up in arms. The local paper was scathing, believing that if the chief had just arrested the guy in the first place, the second victim would still be around. It tainted his career and has haunted him ever since.”

 
; “So now he’s trying to wrap this up ASAP in order to make up for that?” Cammie asked.

  Dale nodded. “Of course he’s not coming out and saying that, but the way he’s not looking at anyone else, or interviewing potential witnesses, well… It’s just not sitting well with me. I’m sure he’s thinking he can redeem himself by solving this case and bringing in the murderer before Christmas.”

  “Are you the only one on the force who’s bothered by what you’re seeing?”

  “There are four of us besides the chief. I haven’t asked the other guys, but they haven’t been looking too upset when we have our briefings. I think they probably want this wrapped up pretty quickly before Christmas as well.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “I know you’ve been doing a bit of snooping on your own. The chief saw you and your boyfriend going into the bank and asked around after you two left. I won’t repeat what he called you.”

  She chuckled. “I have that effect on people.”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not sure what I want. I just don’t want to see a potentially innocent man railroaded because the chief is trying to make up for a mistake he made seven years ago. And if he is guilty, it’s because we did our job to the best of our ability.”

  Cammie looked at him. “You could potentially be blowing up your career just by talking to me.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “If I have any chance of helping out, I need to know the particulars of the case. Are you willing to share those with me?”

  “I am.”

  “Have you had a look at the autopsy report?”

  Dale nodded. “Long was shot at point blank range with a 38 revolver. The bullet ripped through his intestines and lodged in his spinal column. The gun retrieved from Northcott’s house showed it hadn’t been recently fired.”

  “That doesn’t mean much. It can be alleged Harold used another weapon.”

  “Exactly. There were no signs of struggle or defensive wounds on the victim.”

  “Was the body moved?”

  “No. He died where he fell.”

  “I thought as much when I saw the bare spot on the tree.”

  “Yeah. His body was covered with broken ornaments and tinsel.”

  “What about his car? Did Long drive downtown or did he walk?”

  “His car was found in a secluded spot behind Main Street.”

  Cammie frowned. “That makes no sense, does it? It was a frigid night with a chance of snow. At that time of evening, he wouldn’t have needed to worry about not being able to find a parking spot. The only reason he wouldn’t park near the Christmas tree is that he didn’t want to be seen. Why? If he was meeting Harold, why would he care if they were seen together?”

  Dale shrugged. “There were no weapons or anything that could be used as a weapon in his coat pocket or on his person.”

  “If he planned on taking revenge on Harold, I doubt he would have arranged to meet him in such an open area. You have no guarantee that just because it’s the middle of the night, no one will drive by and potentially see you.” She absently tapped her lips with her finger. “I heard that Long was having an affair with a married woman. I don’t suppose Knowlton followed up on that?”

  The officer shook his head. “That’s actually the first I’ve heard of that.”

  She shared what she’d discovered talking to Debbi and Long’s neighbor. “Obviously Long was not well liked where he worked and where he lived. Debbi actually found him creepy.”

  “You see? That’s why I called you. In just twenty-four hours, you’ve uncovered more than we did.”

  She met his eye. “How can you be so sure that if I discover Harold is guilty that I’ll share that with you? He’s my boyfriend’s father.”

  Dale met her gaze. “Because you’re not that kind of officer.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Call it a gut feeling.”

  Damned if he wasn’t right. No matter where this led, or what the consequences would be, she’d be honest about it.

  “I don’t have the authority to interview people.”

  He laughed. “You seem to have done a good job with Debbi and Long’s neighbor.”

  “Yeah, but there’s more there. You’ll probably get additional info from the neighbor and Debbi than someone pretending to like his Christmas lights or anxious to get a loan.”

  “I can probably find an excuse to go over there.”

  “What about Long’s cell or phone records?”

  “We should get those within the next day or two. I’ll be sure to let you know what we find.”

  “Were you able to discover what the argument in the hardware store was about?”

  A mischievous glint appeared in Dale’s eyes. “I could ask you why you didn’t ask Northcott yourself, but after the chief actually told us Harold was a smart man in hating your guts, I think I know the answer.” Cammie made a face and the officer laughed. “Northcott told the chief that he’d applied for a home improvement loan at the beginning of the summer to do some repairs to the house, redecorate the downstairs and to put in a utility shed out back. He was asking for about $30,000. Although his credit was excellent, Long apparently gave him a hard time about it. Finally Harold gave up and went to Calais to the bank there where he received the loan with no problem at all. On the morning of December 21st, they ran into each other at the hardware store where he says Long made a disparaging remark about him. That started the ruckus.”

  “Do you know what the disparaging remark was?”

  “According to Harold, he and his wife were in the paint aisle, minding their own business, when they ran into Long. Harold took the opportunity to let Walter know he’d gotten the loan somewhere else and that he was going to report Long for despicable business practices. Apparently Long didn’t take kindly to that and called Harold some nasty names. It escalated from there. Murray MacKenzie who owns the hardware store heard the shouting and ran towards the two men. He arrived just in time to overhear Long telling Harold to, quote, get over it, unquote at which point Northcott lunged at him. It took Murray and one of his store clerks to separate the two men.”

  “Have you figured out approximate time of death?”

  “Coroner estimates between midnight and four in the morning.”

  Damn it. I saw Harold in the hallway at two-thirty am.

  She carefully kept her face neutral as other distressing thoughts ran through her mind.

  “Thanks, Dale. You’ve been a big help.”

  “I called you from my private cell. It’s probably best to keep using that number if you need me.” He opened the door. “I’ll let you know what I find out. Hopefully we can get this wrapped up before the chief does.”

  He closed the door after him, climbed into his own vehicle and quickly drove off. Cammie waited until he was gone before she turned on the ignition. As she turned around in the parking lot, she felt a gnawing at her conscience. Dale was so convinced she was this honest and upstanding police officer. If she was, then why didn’t she tell him about seeing Harold on the stair the night of the murder?

  By the time she walked through the front door of the Northcott home, she saw Jace and Harold coming down the stairs. Jace gave her a quizzical look as she took off her coat while Harold, as usual, ignored her.

  “Just needed a little air,” she smiled as she surreptitiously dropped the truck keys in his coat pocket while hanging her coat over his.

  She followed them into the kitchen where Pru was already seated. They took their seats and were soon passing around the roast ham, peas and mashed potatoes.

  The atmosphere was awkward. Jace tried his best to fill it by sharing stories of his more exciting hockey games. Yet each time he paused, the frustration and tension residing within that silence was deafening.

  By the time dinner was thankfully over, Harold bolted from the kitchen while Pru stepped outside to the backyard to light up a
cigarette. Jace and Cammie wordlessly helped Pamela clean up. When they were done, Jace indicated to Cammie that she follow him upstairs. He led her into their bedroom where he closed the door. There, he gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

  “What’s this for?” she asked.

  “I’m so sorry, Cam. I never should have come up with the idea of spending Christmas with Mom and Dad. It was a huge mistake.”

  “What did he say when you tried to talk to him?”

  Jace let her go and plopped down on the edge of his bed. “Total waste of time. He refused to say anything, even when I insisted that all you’re trying to do is help. I forgave you for what happened three years ago. Why can’t he?”

  She sat down next to him and leaned her chin against his shoulder. “Because you’re their only son and they love you.”

  He snorted derisively. “A little less love and a little more understanding would go a long way.” He paused for a moment. “I asked him what he was doing up at two-thirty the night Long was murdered.” Cammie gasped. “Don’t worry, I told him it was me who saw him coming up the stairs.”

  “What did he say?”

  “After he finished yelling that I had no right to spy on him, he said he went jogging.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe him?”

  “That’s the terrible part. I don’t think I do. I know he’s an avid jogger; that’s how he stays in shape. But to be jogging at two in the morning? This from a man who’s in bed by eleven PM sharp every night?”

  “Jace, you used to jog. How long would it take your dad to jog from here to the town Christmas tree?”

  “About a half hour.” He suddenly paled as he realized the implications of what he’d just said. He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “God, what a nightmare. We should have just stayed home like we always do. We would have had a wonderful Christmas and I wouldn’t be questioning my own father’s honesty and integrity.”

  “Nor would we be trying to prove his innocence.” She quickly filled him on where she’d actually been. “With Knowlton determined to make up for what he believes is a blight on his legacy, Harold doesn’t stand a chance. Now that I have Dale on my side, we may have a better chance of finding out what really happened to Long.”