by L A Dobbs
"What were they arguing about?"
"I have no idea, but they must’ve made up. They didn’t argue at the campsite." Jesse eyed Sam cautiously. "So do we have a deal?"
Sam studied him for a minute and then nodded.
Relief spread across Jesse’s face. "Good, now I gotta get back to work."
Jesse turned and went inside the building.
Sam smiled. He had Jesse right where he wanted him now. He’d done Jesse a favor. So now if Sam got more evidence that Thorne really was involved in all the drugs coming into town, maybe Jesse would see his way to returning that favor by letting Sam know who he had gotten the drugs from. That person might be the next step in proving that Thorne was the source.
Not only that, but he had another lead to check out in the murder of Lynn Palmer.
Chapter Twelve
Jo leaned back in her chair. She had a half-eaten donut on her desk and her foot propped up on an overturned trash can. She tapped a staccato rhythm with the end of her pencil as she stared at the photos arranged on the big corkboard on the wall beside the window. She’d meticulously gone through Lynn’s things, photographing each item and then putting them in an evidence box.
Near as she could tell, it was all normal stuff any camper would have. Lynn’s belongings were practical, each item labeled inconspicuously with her initials. Nothing fancy. Even her undergarments were sensible. Plain white cotton with a tiny pink bow as the only ornamentation. It was a brand Jo wore herself—Plain Jane. It was known for the high-quality non-frilly designs. One thing was odd—no purse or cell phone. She could see not bringing a purse on a camping trip, and Lynn’s seemingly practical nature made it plausible, but a cell phone? Didn’t everyone have those at all times these days?
Over at the receptionist desk, Reese was taking care of the usual day’s business. In a small-town police station, you had to wear a lot of hats, and Reese handled most of the administrative activities. Dog licenses, collecting tax and sewer bills, issuing permits. Right now, she was issuing a yard-sale permit to Bev Porterfield.
"No, Mrs. Porterfield. You can’t sell your husband."
"Why not? He’s about as useful as that old 8-track player I found in the garage. I’m putting that out for sale."
"I’m sure you’d miss him if someone snapped him up. You wouldn’t want Dottie Aldrich to get him, would you?"
Jo couldn’t see Bev from where she sat, but she almost laughed out loud picturing the look that must have been on Bev’s face as she thought about her husband hooking up with Dottie. Dottie was known as somewhat of a gold digger in the senior-citizen circles.
Reese continued, "Anyway, I don’t really need to know the exact items you are going to sell to issue the permit. I just need the dates."
"You sure? I’m going to have a lot of old clothes and some antiques from my mother. In fact, I’m going to have her old china set, and the bassinet from Louis and…"
Jo tuned Bev Porterfield’s words out as she listed a plethora of items she would have at her yard sale. Jo could just picture Reese rolling her eyes. She let it turn into background noise as her mind tossed around the various scenarios that could have led to Lynn Palmer’s death.
Her thoughts turned to Lynn’s friends at the campsite. Most of them were definitely showing signs of hiding something. It could be that they were just nervous. Even innocent people got that way when a close friend was murdered. But Jo had a feeling that some of them, especially Noah, weren’t telling the whole truth. The best bet was to separate them and talk to them individually—that was when the truth usually came out.
Her gaze drifted to the window. The maple and oak trees were sprouting fresh new green leaves. Birds hopped from branch to branch, swooping to the ground to grab up an occasional seed from the grass. In the distance, layers of hazy blue mountains contrasted with the white spire of the church at the end of Main Street. It was an idyllic small-town scene.
Ruining the pleasant scene, however, was Mayor Dupont striding down the sidewalk and into the town’s one fine-dining establishment, Lago. Nothing but the best for the mayor.
He stopped at the door, plastering a fake smile on his face and greeting someone walking down the sidewalk. The smile dropped from his lips as the person passed, and he opened the door and pushed his way inside, cutting off a tourist who had been angling for the restaurant. Typical.
What wasn’t typical was what she saw right after that. The cherry-red Cadillac pulled to the curb, and Lucas Thorne stepped out. He checked his watch—a Rolex, she knew from dealing with him previously—looked toward the town offices, and then glanced into the restaurant before darting inside.
Was he meeting with Dupont? Or was her imagination just on overdrive? The restaurant was public, so even if they were meeting, they weren’t trying to hide it, so it was probably nothing nefarious.
She was still staring at the door when a third surprise happened. The door opened, and Kevin walked out.
Had Kevin been lunching at Lago? Expensive on the salary of a part-time cop. But maybe he could afford it. Jo suspected that Kevin had family money. She’d been to his house once. The unassuming small cape had been upgraded with the finest trappings. Granite countertops, cherry cabinets, bamboo flooring, and all the electronic gadgets one could wish for. Maybe that was why Kevin never seemed to want to take on more hours. If he had family money, he probably didn’t even need a job.
"Oh no!" Reese’s distraught voice pulled her attention from the window, and she swung around, planting her feet on the floor. She peered through the glass slats of the post-office-box partition. Bev Porterfield must have left, and Reese was alone at her desk, staring down at her computer, her dark hair hanging down the side of her face like a curtain.
"What’s wrong?"
"Eric just emailed me. Lucy ran away."
"Maybe she ran home to her family." Jo’s words ended a hopeful octave higher than they started.
"I don’t think so," Reese said. "Eric said he doubted she even had one. I mean, you saw the condition she was in. Nobody was taking good care of her."
A pang of regret speared Jo. She hated to think of the dog out on the streets. Maybe she should’ve taken her in. Another living, breathing creature to come home to might be nice. But her landlord had been adamant about the no-pets rule. Maybe she should think about buying a place where she could actually have a dog. Maybe it was time she admitted that she actually wanted to put down roots here in White Rock.
"In happier news, I was able to find out something interesting about Lynn Palmer pertaining to her company, Lyah."
"You did? How did you do that?"
Reese scooted her chair around the partition. Her laptop was in her lap, and she had one faded-jean-clad leg curled under her, the other used for scooting.
"I have my ways," she teased.
Jo frowned. "Legal ways?"
There might’ve been times when they pushed the envelope, but if they wanted things to be admissible in court, Jo had to make sure that there was no way a defense attorney could have any evidence thrown out. If Reese had hacked into some computer files, they wouldn’t be admissible in court. Jo suspected Reese was even more skilled in computer forensics than she’d let on to either her or Sam.
Reese held up her hands. "Totally legal. I simply called her lawyer and asked."
Jo held the white donut bag from Brewed Awakening out, and Reese took one. There were only two left. Had Jo eaten the rest? She didn’t remember—she’d been so focused on the case.
"How did you find out who her lawyer was?"
"Does that part have to be legal? I mean, one could get that information from anywhere. Her friends. Her parents. We wouldn’t have to prove how we found out who he is, right?" Reese bit into the donut, some of the sugar sprinkling down on the keyboard. She brushed it off and grabbed a napkin out of the bag.
Jo thought about that. As long as the information was gathered legally, who would know how she found out who the lawyer was? She ma
de a mental note to ask about the lawyer in some official capacity so as to cover their asses. "You might be right. What did you find out?"
"Lynn and Noah used to be an item. They started that company together. The name, Lyah, is actually a mashup of their first names. They wanted to make sure the other could maintain control if something happened, so there’s a codicil in Lynn’s will that says her stock shares go to Noah in the event of her death. He has one leaving his shares to her, supposedly."
Jo leaned back in the chair and clasped her hands together, her elbows on the arms of her chair. "Now, that is interesting."
Kevin came around the post-office-box partition. "You guys found something interesting?"
"Reese discovered that Lynn Palmer’s will lists Noah as a beneficiary of her interests in the company. Did you stop for lunch?" Jo said.
"Huh?" Kevin frowned at her. "Oh, no." He held up the camera. "I was out taking pictures. Just got back from the campground." He looked at his watch. "In fact, I think I may have worked more hours than I’m supposed to. I don’t know what the budget is for extra hours, do you?"
Jo shook her head. That was Sam’s area.
Kevin handed her the camera. "You can tell Sam all the pictures are on here."
"Okay." Jo watched him leave. Weird that he said he wasn’t at lunch when she’d seen him coming out of the restaurant. What had he been doing in there?
She’d never clicked with Kevin, not like she did with Sam and Tyler, but still, she had no good reason to think ill of him. She’d learned over the years that she had to rein in her instincts to be suspicious of everyone. Just because bad things had happened in her past, it didn’t mean everyone was out to get her.
There were plenty of reasons for Kevin to be in Lago. Maybe he knew someone that worked there. Maybe he was following up on something else. Maybe he was handing them his resume. Jo wouldn’t be too disappointed if it was the latter, other than the fact it would mean they were even more short-handed.
She was staring out the window at the disappearing taillights of Kevin’s Isuzu when Sam’s Tahoe came around the corner and pulled up to the curb.
Chapter Thirteen
As Sam parked the Tahoe, a blurry black-and-tan movement at the side of the building behind the shrubs caught his eye. He got out of the truck, and a furry ball shot toward him. Lucy.
"What are you doing here?" He bent down and petted the dog. Had her family claimed her, and were they bringing her downtown? He doubted it—she had no collar or leash.
He headed toward the front door, Lucy on his heels. Sam stood with his hand on the oversized brass handle and looked down at her. "You can’t come in."
As soon as one of the double oak doors was cracked open, Lucy shoved her nose through the opening and pushed her way inside. So much for the dog listening to him.
"Lucy!" Reese scooted her chair across the room and swirled to a stop in front of Lucy. Lucy wagged her tail profusely while Reese lavished her with attention. Reese cocked her head and looked inquisitively up at Sam. "What’s she doing with you?"
"She was outside when I pulled up. I was going to ask you why she was here."
Reese shook her head. "I don’t know. Eric said she ran away. She must’ve come here. Maybe she thinks this is home."
Sam’s heart sank. No one had claimed the dog.
"Looks like she wants to be a police dog," Jo said.
"Yeah, don’t tell Dupont. Unfortunately, having a K-9 unit costs money. She has to go back to the shelter. She looks good all cleaned up, though. I’m sure someone will adopt her if she doesn’t have a family." Sam tried to ignore the pleading look in Lucy’s whiskey-colored eyes. There was no budget for a police dog, and he couldn’t have her at home.
He’d gotten used to living alone. He didn’t want another person. But a dog was another story. Dogs didn’t argue with you or talk back. Dogs were always happy to see you no matter what you’d done the day before.
But his days stretched out too long. He knew Dupont would balk if he tried to have her in the Tahoe, so he would be forced to leave her at home alone. And sometimes his day stretched out to fourteen hours or more. Heck, sometimes he didn’t even go home at all. Now that they were shorthanded, he’d be at work even more. It wouldn’t be fair to Lucy. She deserved better than that.
Reese’s smile faded. "I know. I’ll call Eric."
Jo grabbed the donut bag from the corner of her desk. Lucy’s ears perked up at the crinkle of the paper.
"Can dogs eat donuts?" Jo asked.
Reese made a face and patted her stomach. "Desserts aren’t good for them just like they’re not good for us."
Lucy thumped her tail and whined, her eyes fixated on the donut that Jo was now holding up.
"I suppose a tiny piece wouldn’t hurt," Reese said.
Jo broke off a piece and flipped it to Lucy, who leapt up in the air and caught it in her mouth.
"Pretty good catch." Sam rubbed Lucy’s ears then noticed the photographs laid out on the corkboard. His mind immediately went into investigation mode. "Are those the items from Lynn Palmer’s tent?"
Jo put the bag down and went to stand at the board. "Yep. Pretty standard stuff for campers." She pointed to the pictures in turn. "Rain gear, jeans, undergarments, sweats, hiking shorts."
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Sam said. His eyes were still on the items, his mind inventorying each piece for later use.
"No. Except." Jo drew out the word as she turned around and pointed to one of the photos. It was a pair of cotton pants ripped on the side. "This is from the pile of clothes we found in the woods. The pants were ripped as if they snagged on something or there was a struggle."
"Or maybe she was in a hurry to get them off."
"If that were the case, would she have taken the time to fold them in a neat pile?" Jo tapped her index finger on the photo Sam had taken of the clothing pile. "The other unusual thing is that I didn’t find a cell phone."
"Maybe it wasn’t in her tent. It could still be lying around at the campsite."
Jo nodded. "It’d be important to get it. You never know when that last text or phone call is going to provide a clue. Speaking of which, what did you find out from Jesse?"
Sam plopped into a chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He absently stroked the soft fur on Lucy’s head as he told Jo what he’d gleaned from Jesse. He left out the part about the pot—not that he didn’t trust Jo, but the fewer people that knew, the better. He didn’t want word getting out that he let criminals off the hook, but sometimes you had to let the smaller fish go in order to catch the bigger one.
"That must be Amber she fought with. Do you think Amber had something to do with her death? Maybe killed her from jealousy?" Jo pressed her lips together. "She did seem awfully possessive of Noah. Maybe they had a fight about Noah and Lynn was killed in a jealous rage? That’s interesting, because I have a theory too, thanks to Reese."
Jo and Reese took turns telling Sam about Lynn’s will. He was getting a new appreciation for Reese’s computer skills. She had a knack for digging up information, though he suspected she pushed the envelope sometimes.
"Noah was angry at the campsite. Almost too angry," Jo said. "Sometimes people act that way when they have something to hide, so—"
"Woof!"
They spun around to see Dupont standing in the lobby on the other side of the post-office boxes. Lucy had wandered over to the partition and was standing there glaring at him. The hairs along her spine were raised like a mohawk.
"What is this dog doing here? I thought I told you people to get rid of it," Dupont demanded.
Lucy must not have liked being called "it." She kept her eyes trained on Dupont and resorted to a low growl.
Reese rushed to Lucy’s side. "We brought her to the shelter, but she must’ve run off. I’ll bring her back as soon as I can."
Dupont looked at Reese dubiously. "Make it soon. We can’t have an animal like that in a public office. Do you see the way
she growled at me? What if she bit a kid or something? Would make me look like a shoddy mayor."
"Wouldn’t want that." Reese’s voice had a tinge of sarcasm that made Dupont look at her twice. She ignored him and pushed Lucy behind her desk.
Dupont proceeded into the squad room. Sam stood as the man approached. He didn’t need Dupont looking down on him. Sam was taller, and he figured it was better to have it the other way around.
"I don’t think I need to remind you who has control of the budget here." Dupont’s eyes flicked to Tyler’s empty desk, and Sam felt that familiar hollow sinking sensation.
"I know you lost a good man." Dupont’s face softened. For a second, he seemed almost human. "I’m willing to keep the third full-time officer in the budget, but you people need to produce results. What’s going on in the Palmer case?"
"We were just discussing that." Sam pointed to the corkboard. "We have a few suspects, and we’re going to continue questioning. If you would just let us do our job instead of coming in here and bugging us, we could have it solved sooner."
Dupont scowled, and Sam could practically feel Jo suppressing a smirk behind him. She usually remained quiet when Dupont was around, mostly because if she opened her mouth, whatever came out typically wasn’t helpful.
"It was one of those hooligan friends of hers, wasn’t it?" Dupont asked. "The parents have driven up and are very anxious and heartbroken over this."
An ache of sympathy bloomed in Sam’s chest as he thought of how he would feel if one of his daughters had been murdered. He would be burning for justice. Sam wanted to do right by Lynn Palmer and her family. He couldn’t give a crap about what Dupont wanted, but if they happened to be the same thing, then so be it.
