But Not Forsaken: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 3)

by BJ Bourg

I scowled, looking from the empty register to the gunshot wound in Megyn’s head. It was the same type of wound as Abigail’s, in the same location, and during an armed robbery. The similarities were too obvious to ignore.

  I keyed up the radio clipped to my uniform shirt and called Lindsey. “Call Melvin and tell him to come back to town. Simon and his brothers might already be back here. We need to check all the businesses in town to make sure there haven’t been other robberies.”

  Susan walked up as I was finishing my message to Lindsey. “What’s going on in here?” she asked.

  After I told her what I’d found, she handed me a camera so I could photograph the body and evidence, and then she began surveying the scene for herself. She examined Megyn’s body first and the cash register next. When she was done, she chewed on her lower lip. That usually meant she was either thinking really hard or she was about to say something I wouldn’t like.

  “What’re you thinking?” I asked.

  “I think we need to dig a bit deeper before we make the leap that Simon and his brothers did this.”

  I pointed to the body. “How often have you seen a murder victim with a contact wound? For me, it was only once—when that bastard Simon shot Abigail in the temple. I checked the wall behind her and there are no bullet holes to line up with that shot, so he must’ve bent over her as she lay dying, pushed the muzzle of his pistol to her temple, and pulled the trigger. And why? Just to make sure she was dead? That takes a special kind of evil—the kind Simon possesses.” I then nodded toward the cash register. “And they specialize in armed robberies. That’s how they make the majority of their money.”

  Susan nodded. “I hear what you’re saying, but I think we should keep our options open. You know, just in case there’s something else going on here.”

  “Like what? We haven’t had an armed robbery in this town since I’ve been chief, and it’s probably been a lot longer than that.”

  “That is true, but this doesn’t necessarily have to be a robbery. It could’ve been a murder made to look like a robbery.”

  I couldn’t argue the point. I picked my way back to the door and stood facing the interior of the bar. I held out my hand like I was holding a gun. “He came in shooting,” I offered, “and his first two shots hit the far wall. That would’ve gotten Megyn’s attention and she would’ve jumped up, knocking over her barstool. He then corrected his aim and fired two more shots, putting her down.” I walked around the bar and stood over Megyn. “And then he cold-bloodedly shot her pointblank in the temple.”

  “So, you think he came in shooting?” Susan challenged.

  I nodded.

  “If it was a robbery, wouldn’t he have demanded the money before killing her? What if he needed her to open a safe or tell him where to find the key to the register? It wouldn’t make sense to barge in with guns blazing.”

  “You act like I was here and saw everything,” I joked. “You’re right—the robbery could’ve been staged or an afterthought. Let’s get this scene wrapped up so we can interview Ed. Maybe there’s something about Megyn’s life that can help shed some light on what happened here, but my money’s on the Parker brothers.”

  CHAPTER 17

  While I processed the scene and Susan watched—careful not to touch anything because of her current status—Ed waited on the porch, smoking his way through an entire pack of cigarettes. Once everything was documented, I examined Megyn’s body more closely and noticed she was cold to the touch and her body was stiff. She’d been dead over twelve hours, which put the murder in the evening hours, possibly before dark.

  Once I’d measured and photographed her body, I carefully lifted her head to see under it. There—resting on the hardwood floor—was a copper-jacketed lead projectile. It had punched a hole through her head and lost most of its energy, making it no match for the solid oak planks. I picked it up in my gloved hand and held it close to my face, nodding. It was definitely a nine millimeter bullet.

  I checked Megyn’s back and found that the other two bullets hadn’t exited her body. By my count, five rounds had been fired—three hit Megyn and two landed harmlessly in the wall. But where were the spent shell casings?

  I posed the question to Susan, who had combed every inch of the floor. “Either the killer collected the spent casings or he used a revolver—provided he wasn’t a she.”

  “Unless it was a nine millimeter revolver, the bastard picked up the casings.”

  After I’d finished processing what I could of her body at the scene, I called the coroner’s office and requested their investigators respond to retrieve her body. While I waited for the investigators, I dusted the door handles, the register, and the area of the bar near Megyn’s body. Most of the prints I recovered were partials or smudges, and they could’ve belonged to anyone—including Megyn. I then set about swabbing any area I thought the killer might’ve touched, hoping to recover some DNA evidence.

  The last thing I did was retrieve tools from my Tahoe and cut a large square chunk from the far wall that encompassed both bullet holes. Once I’d removed the wooden paneling, I was able to locate two copper-jacketed lead projectiles in the wall, both of them nine millimeters like the first. One was entangled in the fiberglass insulation and the other had lodged in the sheetrock of the opposite wall. After packaging the bullets and securing them in the evidence bin behind my Tahoe, Susan and I returned inside to ensure we hadn’t missed anything.

  “Well, what do you think?” I asked Susan.

  “It’s clear someone came into the bar, fired several shots, dropping Megyn, and then took the money and shot her pointblank in the side of the head. Or shot her in the head and then took the money—that part isn’t clear.” Susan sighed. “Now we have to figure out who done it.”

  “I’ve got my thoughts,” I said as we walked outside and each took a seat in rocking chairs on either side of Ed. After apologizing for what he had been through, I asked him what he found when he arrived.

  Instead of answering my question, he just shook his head and said, “This isn’t supposed to happen here. In all the years I’ve been in business, we’ve never been robbed. But to have one of my employees—who was like family—murdered? That’s unthinkable!”

  I was silent for a moment, allowing Ed to compose himself. His hand trembled as he brought a cigarette to his lips and pulled from it. A pile of crushed cigarette butts were on the floor of the porch at his feet. He blew out the smoke and hung his head. “Megyn’s worked here for thirty years—even before I took over. She started out working her way through college, but then fell in love with the job and dropped out of school.” He chuckled to himself, seemingly going back to a more pleasant time in his mind. “Her parents were so pissed off that they came down here and threatened to sue my brother-in-law.”

  “Your brother-in-law?”

  Ed nodded his head. “My father-in-law built the bar himself forty years ago. He passed it on to Lance when he retired and Lance hired Megyn back then when he first took control of the bar. Megyn’s parents blamed him for ruining their daughter’s future, as they put it.”

  “You said Megyn’s parents threatened to sue Lance—did they actually go through with it?” Susan asked.

  “No, they settled down when they realized Lance was running a respectable business here. Of course, it didn’t hurt when they realized how much money Megyn was making. She was tipped well, that one.” Ed crushed out his cigarette and looked up at me. “When Lance went to jail, my father-in-law offered the bar to my wife but she didn’t want anything to do with it. They wanted to keep it in the family, so they asked if I would run it. Like most men around here, I had begun working in the shipyard right out of high school. I’d spent a lot of hot afternoons sandblasting barges and cursing myself for not going to college. When they offered me the bar, I saw it as an opportunity to get out of the yard. I was ready for a change of pace.”

  “How long ago did you take over?” I asked.

  “It’s been about twe
nty years now.” Ed shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about running a bar, so Megyn took me under her wing and taught me everything I needed to know. She helped make the business great. I promoted her to manager and gave her a hefty raise. And she deserved it.”

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Megyn?” Susan asked. “Any enemies?”

  “Hurt her? Hell no. Everybody loved her. As y’all know, we get some drunken idiots in here every now and then looking for a fight, but Megyn could talk any of them down. She just had a way with people.”

  I was thoughtful, and then asked the obvious question. “What about relationships? Does she have a husband or boyfriend? Or an ex lover out there who might be upset over losing her?”

  “She’s been divorced for fifteen years, and she wasn’t dating anyone that I knew of.”

  I asked for the ex-husband’s name, and Ed told me what it was, but said he didn’t live around here anymore. “He’s been gone for years,” Ed explained. “Got remarried, moved to Mississippi or Alabama, and had a few kids with his new woman. My mom is still friends with his mom and she mentions what he’s up to every now and then.”

  “What about ex-boyfriends?” I asked. “Or anyone she’s been on dates with recently?”

  Ed shook his head. “None that I know about.”

  I made a note of that. “So, what time did you get here this morning?”

  “I’m not sure. I drove up a minute or two before I called 9-1-1. About six o’clock, I guess. As soon as I walked in and saw her on the floor I called y’all.” Ed went on to explain how it was Megyn’s job to close up every night and he would open up every morning. Right at closing time, which he said was two o’clock, Megyn’s routine was to clean up the bar, remove the money from the register, and then lock it in the safe. Once Ed would arrive the following morning, he would empty the safe and make a deposit at the bank. “After I called 9-1-1 this morning,” Ed said. “I noticed that the register was open, so I checked the safe. It was locked. I opened it and checked inside, but it was empty.”

  “Well, I can tell you Megyn’s been dead anywhere from eight to twelve hours, so it was definitely before closing time.”

  “You mean she’s been like that all night…alone on the floor dying?”

  “If it’s any consolation, she didn’t suffer long.” I decided to change the subject and handed Ed my notebook and pen. “We’ll need a list of regular customers—names, addresses, and telephone numbers if you know—so we can interview them. We need to know if any strangers came into the bar within the last couple of weeks.”

  “Please understand—I work the day shift and I’m gone by three, so I wouldn’t know all of our nightly customers.” Ed frowned. “Megyn would be the one to answer that question, but she’s not here anymore.”

  “Do y’all get many customers on Wednesdays?” Susan asked.

  Ed shook his head. “We make most of our money on the weekends. Other than filling lunch orders, we’re pretty slow during the work week. Things usually start picking up by Friday afternoon.”

  “Look,” Susan began, “I don’t want you to be offended by my next question, but I have to ask it.” After a brief pause, Susan asked Ed for his whereabouts yesterday. “Please understand, we can’t leave a stone unturned.”

  “I do understand.” Ed took a breath and exhaled. “Let’s see, I got to the bar around six yesterday morning and stayed here most of the day. I locked up at ten-thirty to deliver some pre-orders and was back by eleven. I served plate lunches here until one-thirty and then hung around until about three, which was when Megyn showed up.”

  “What’d you do between one-thirty and three?” Susan asked.

  “The usual—caught up on my books, cleaned the kitchen, and swept the floors. When Megyn arrived I talked to her for a few minutes and then left.”

  “Where’d you go when you left?”

  “I stopped at home to change into some old clothes and then drove out to my hunting lease. I go out there every day during hunting season.”

  “Did you kill anything?”

  Ed shook his head. “I worked on one of my tree stands for about an hour and then just sat there watching the deer until sundown.”

  Susan studied Ed’s face closely. “Can anyone verify that?”

  “My wife was home when I stopped to change and she was there when I got back from the lease,” Ed said. “She can verify that much. If need be, I’ll take a lie detector test. I’ll do whatever y’all need me to do. I just want y’all to catch the person who did this to her. Megyn was like family to me and I want the person responsible brought to justice.”

  Susan put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need for a lie detector test, sir. We just need to know where everyone was and what they were doing so we can move this investigation along.”

  “I understand.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “I don’t know.” I squinted in the sunlight, considering Susan’s theory that someone had staged the scene to look like a robbery. “The Parker brothers just happened to roll into town yesterday morning and attack Amy, and then we get an armed robbery-homicide this morning—one that fits their MO like a pair of broken-in shoes. I’m telling you, Sue, my money is on them.”

  “It is highly coincidental.” Susan acknowledged. Without saying more about it, she pulled out her phone and called the coroner’s office to find out when the investigator would arrive.

  While she did that, I walked in circles in the parking lot and called Chloe’s phone. It went straight to voicemail. I grunted and shoved my phone in my pocket. What in the hell’s going on? Why won’t you talk to me? I began to worry if she was angry about something.

  I didn’t have long to think about it, because the coroner’s investigator arrived shortly after Susan called and we helped him load Megyn’s body into the van for transport. When he was gone, Susan and I wrapped up the scene investigation and were about to leave when an elderly man rode up on a bicycle. His clothes were tattered and his face stained from lack of bathing. He looked at my Tahoe and then at us.

  “Not again!” he complained.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I came by here yesterday at seven and it was closed, so I came back at ten last night and it was still closed. Now, I come back the next day and it’s still not open? Where in the hell is a man supposed to get a drink around here?”

  “How do you know it was closed at seven yesterday?” Susan asked.

  “I already told you—I came by here and I saw the sign that said it was closed.”

  I looked toward the front of the building. Sure enough, the red sign on the double-door to the left read, Closed. “Were there any cars in the parking lot when you came here at seven and then again at ten?”

  The man pointed to Megyn’s car. “Just that one, but it’s always here when I come.”

  We asked him more questions, but the only thing he really cared about was getting some alcohol in his system. When we’d extracted all the information we could out of him, Susan and I returned to the police department. Melvin had just pulled up and was backing the airboat into the bay behind the building when we parked on the street. I waved in his direction and asked Susan to get with him about notifying our victim’s next of kin. “Let him take the lead because of what’s going on with you, but make sure he finds out if she had any friends or enemies. Tell him to get a warrant to search her house and property, and make sure he checks all of her electronic devices. I want to know if she was on any dating sites, if she’s been involved in recent arguments on social media, if she’d received any—”

  “So you don’t think the Parkers killed her?”

  “I do, but I want y’all to eliminate as many doubts as possible.”

  Susan cocked her head sideways and stared curiously at me. “And where are you going?”

  “I have a meeting at noon.”

  “You’re late.”

  I glanced at the time on my phone and nodded. “I sent a text
earlier and he said he’d wait for me.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Your lawyer, Perry Goldsmith.”

  Susan studied my face, scowling. “You haven’t said a word about your conversation with Uncle D since you’ve been back. That means what he had to say was bad, doesn’t it?”

  I was wondering when she would ask about my trip to Tennessee. I nodded slowly.

  “What did he tell you?”

  I pondered her question, trying to choose my words carefully. When I took too long to answer, she lowered her head. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s not the best news, but I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re imagining. I think it’ll definitely help our case.”

  “If it’ll ruin his reputation, I don’t want you using it.”

  I stared off in the distance, watching Melvin and Seth unhitch the airboat. When I looked back at Susan, her jaw was set. “I’m serious, Clint. I don’t want my dad’s name being destroyed.”

  “I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

  “It had better not.” Without saying another word, she stepped out of my Tahoe and shut the door. I watched her walk toward Melvin and then I drove away.

  I called again for Chloe as I traveled north to Perry’s office, but it went straight to voicemail. I left another message asking her to call me as soon as she could, but a sense of dread began to settle in the pit of my stomach. I realized I didn’t have her parents’ number, so I called Lindsey and asked if she’d research it for me. “Just text it to me when you get it,” I said, and thanked her before hanging up.

  CHAPTER 19

  Perry’s secretary led me to a large conference room and showed me to a plush rolling chair at one end of a long table. “Mr. Goldsmith will be right with you,” she said, and then scurried away.

  When I was alone in the room, I checked my cell phone. Still nothing from Chloe. Unable to help myself, I called her number again, but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe her phone’s dead? I decided to send her a text message asking her to call me as soon as possible, and I also let her know I was starting to worry about her. I was about to call Lindsey when Perry bustled in carrying a large file folder filled with legal documents and other papers. He dropped it on the table and settled into a chair next to mine.