Hounds, Harvest, and Homicide

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  I stared at Justin. He nodded, encouraging me to answer the question. “We, I…I wanted to talk to her about her property and the animal shelter.”

  “Did you accuse her of killing George Watson?”

  “No. We talked about Jonathan Beemer’s arrest, but only briefly. She had to go. Said she had a meeting.”

  “Did you two argue at all?”

  I narrowed my eyes at the detective. “Was Cindy murdered?” I made firm eye contact with Justin. “Do you think I killed her?”

  Justin took a deep breath and released it. “Her car went off the road less than an hour after you two had lunch. From what we understand, you were the last person to see her, and were told you two argued.”

  “I wouldn’t call it an argument. She didn’t take me seriously, got upset and left. It wasn’t much more than that.”

  “You stayed at the restaurant?” Bruno asked.

  “Yes, I spoke with one of the servers there.”

  “About how long were you there after Ms. Truelson left?”

  “Thirty minutes maybe. I’m…I’m not sure. I didn’t pay attention to the time.” I twisted my wedding ring around my finger. “Where…where was the accident?”

  “We don’t think it was an accident,” Justin said. “Looks like she was run off 369.”

  “And you think I did it? Justin, you can’t be serious.”

  I saw the angst in his eyes. I watched as he breathed in and out, how he was processing everything before speaking. “You were the last one to see her, Missy.”

  “I wasn’t even on 369 today. You can check that. You’ve got cameras all over that road.” That’s when I remembered Hayden’s friend, and the area where she died. “Except where Ashley died.” I leaned my head back and sighed. “That’s where Cindy went off the road, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “We need to know where you went after you left Riverwoods.”

  “I…I ran some errands.” I glanced around the lobby. “I’ve got receipts in my purse in the office. I went to PetSmart, the bank, and Barnes and Noble, and then I came here. Like I said, nowhere near 369.”

  “Can you get the receipts?”

  I headed through the door to the office and grabbed my purse. I watched the two men whisper to each other through the window. Justin couldn’t believe I killed Cindy. He knew me too well to think that. Bruno though, we were basically strangers, and I didn’t think he liked me very much.

  “Here,” I handed Justin the receipts. “They’ve even got time stamps on them.”

  He examined them and gave them to Detective Bruno.

  “Well?”

  Detective Bruno studied the receipts carefully and then coughed before he spoke. “I’ll have to route it, but based on the times on the receipts, I don’t think you’re a suspect.”

  “Of course I’m not. Even if I wanted to kill her, which I obviously didn’t, I couldn’t have made the turn around between any of those places and 369. And besides, how would I know where she was or that she’d be there at that time? I’d had to have followed her.” My mouth dropped. “You need to talk to Stacy Halstead.”

  The detective shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We’ve talked to Ms. Halstead.”

  “And?”

  “This is a murder investigation, Ms. Kingston, and I’m done sharing information with you.”

  I looked at Justin.

  He shrugged. “It’s Bruno’s investigation.”

  “But you’re above him, and you can’t come here accusing me of murder and then not tell me what’s going on. Don’t I have some kind of rights or something? Shouldn’t I be allowed to know what kind of evidence there is?”

  The two men eyed each other, but the detective didn’t say a thing.

  “Missy.” Justin placed his hand on my shoulder. “Two people are dead. We don’t want to make it three. Please, just go on with your life and stay out of this.”

  “You think their murders are connected?”

  Detective Bruno rubbed his chin, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak.

  “That means you’ve arrested the wrong person. There’s no way Jonathan Beemer could have killed George, not if the two murders are connected.”

  The two men headed for the door.

  Detective Bruno said, “Someone from the department will be in contact if need be.”

  “Justin, wait.”

  He turned around and mouthed, “We’ll talk later.”

  I poured one of Max’s beers into a regular glass. “We don’t have any beer specific glasses. Sorry.”

  He smiled. “You didn’t need to pour it in anything. It already comes in a glass.”

  We walked to the couch. “Have you found out anything about Cindy’s death?” I asked.

  “One of these days you’re going to ask me over just for the fun of it.”

  “Sure, when neither of us are murder suspects.”

  He sipped his beer. “Mike and I spoke to Wellington. He didn’t say much, but he did say they confirmed someone ran her off the road.”

  “How can they confirm that without cameras? She could have been texting or distracted or something.”

  “Her phone was in her purse.”

  “Maybe she was looking at the radio, changing the station or something? How can they know for sure?”

  He shrugged. “They have ways of figuring this stuff out, but Wellington didn’t share them with us.”

  I groaned. “What about Jonathan Beemer? Are they letting him go? He couldn’t have killed Cindy.”

  “No, they’re not letting him go. They’re treating Cindy’s death as a separate murder, at least for now.”

  “But they are connected.”

  “Missy, Cindy might have had a lot of friends, but she had a lot of enemies, too. Someone could have wanted her dead for reasons we don’t know. Just because it happened close to another murder doesn’t mean they’re connected.”

  “But what if they are? What if there’s a double murderer out there, and the cops aren’t looking for him?”

  “The cops know how to do their jobs.”

  “Fine, but it won’t hurt if we look into her connections with George.”

  He sighed. “You’re not really going to do this, are you?”

  I ignored his question. “What about the mayor? I’m sure he knows Cindy was planning to run against him, and what if he didn’t like being held accountable to Watson? There’s motive right there for both of them.”

  “You think Mayor Barrett is a double murderer?”

  “If the shoe fits.” Allie came over and sat on the floor next to me. “Where were you after lunch today?”

  His eyes widened. “Me? Working. You don’t think I—”

  I waved him off. “No, of course not. Were you at city hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see Mayor Barrett there? Maybe around two o’clock?”

  He pressed his lips together and sighed. After a moment, he said, “He was there, but I can’t be sure of the time.”

  “So, he could have left?”

  “Missy.”

  “He’s connected to both, and he has a reason for wanting both out of the picture. Justin and Detective Bruno should know, right?”

  “Yes, they probably should.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  The next morning the dogs and I drove straight to the shelter. I rushed through a quick hello to the rest of the dogs and told Mary I had something to do but would be back soon. Then I headed to the police station. I worried if I called first, the detective wouldn’t see me, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Ms. Kingston.” He greeted me in the reception area of the police department. “Always a pleasure.” The exasperated sigh didn’t match his words. “Come on back. I’ve only got a few minutes, so you’ll have to make it quick.” He brought me to his desk. “Have a seat.”

  I eyed the room full of people. “Uh, could we talk in the interrogation room? This is sensitive
information.”

  He’d already sat down and sighed as he got up from the chair. “Come on.” He closed the door to the interrogation room behind us and pulled out a seat for me. “What do you got?”

  “It’s just a theory, but I—"

  “Another one?”

  “Yes, another one.”

  He pulled his small spiral notebook from his jacket pocket. “Go ahead.”

  I laid it all out for him, being careful not to interject my opinion, but sticking to the few facts I had.

  When I finished, he tapped his pencil on the table. “The mayor? You really think the mayor could have killed two people?”

  “If you think about it, it makes sense. He and George—"

  He closed his notebook. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Kingston.”

  “But you didn’t let me finish. The mayor—"

  “I’ve taken your information, and I’ll look into it.”

  I hated, hated when someone didn’t let me finish speaking. It was disrespectful, and he needed to knock it off. “Detective Bruno, it’s rude to continuously interrupt someone trying to speak. Especially someone who’s trying to help you.”

  He blinked, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “You don’t take me all that seriously, do you, Detective?”

  He leaned his head to the side and pressed his lips into a straight line. “I’ve written down your theory, and I said I’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you. All I’m asking is for you to consider the possibility.”

  “I think we already have a solid case against a suspect for the Watson murder, but it won’t hurt anything to ask a few questions.” He opened the door. “But again—”

  “I know, I know. I need to keep my nose out of it.”

  His upper lip twitched.

  “Have a good day, Detective.”

  Chapter 7

  Who was I kidding? My nose was too deep into the investigation to pull it out. I needed a plan, a reason to talk to Mayor Barrett, and I had exactly three minutes to come up with one, because that’s all the time it took to walk between the police department and city hall.

  Going through the small security booth inside the building bought me some time, but my gun in my purse caused an ordeal, and broke my concentration.

  The police officer who checked my bag handed it to the officer behind him. He kept his legs spread and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ma’am, you can’t bring a weapon into city hall.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. I completely forgot it was in there.” I carried the gun most everywhere, but half the time I forgot I had it. “Should I put it back in my car?”

  “Do you have a license for it?”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course.” I pointed to my purse. “It’s in my wallet.”

  The officer dug into my purse and handed my wallet to the burly officer talking to me. “Please remove your carry license.”

  I handed him my Georgia Carry Permit. He examined it carefully, glancing both at me and the license several times. “You’ve grown your hair out.”

  I blushed. “Yes. Figured I’d try something new.”

  He smirked.

  “Should I put it back in my car?”

  “No, ma’am. If we return it to you now, you can’t come back in. We’ll leave it in our locked compartment, and you can retrieve it when you leave, but please, next time you need to come here, leave the gun at home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I greeted the city hall receptionist with a smile. “Hey Annie, how are you?”

  “Missy, nice to see you. I’m great, and Buster is doing great. He’s back to a normal weight and a little ball of Eeyore-like energy.

  “That’s Buster, a canine version of Eeyore.” Buster was a stray beagle we’d received from another shelter. He was a little overweight when we got him, but when Annie adopted him, she’d promised to get the weight off. “But I’m glad to hear his weight’s better.” I set my purse on the reception counter. “I was hoping I could see the mayor. Is he in this morning?”

  “He is, but he’s in a meeting.” She checked the clock on the wall behind her. “But it’s about over if you’d like to wait?”

  “That would be great.”

  A photo display showing the town throughout the years hung on a large wall in the reception area. I wandered over and checked them out. I loved seeing photos from back in the day, though watching the timeline of change somehow left me with mixed emotions. We’d experienced so much growth, and so fast, we’d lost a lot of that small town feel, and I missed it.

  “Tell me you’re not here for what I think you are.”

  I jumped at the sound of Max whispering in my ear. When I turned around, his straight lips and narrowed eyes surprised me. He’d never looked at me that way before. I held my hand to my chest and gasped. “You scared me.”

  He pulled me toward the front of the reception area and as far away from the desk as possible. “I know why you’re here. Please don’t do this. Just stay out of it, okay?”

  “I’m not here to—” His tense mouth and stern eyes told me he knew I was lying. “I can’t, okay? It fits, and someone has to prove it.”

  “Yes, someone, but not you,” he whispered.

  “I told Detective Bruno.”

  “Good. He’ll follow it up, and I already—”

  I followed his lead and cut him off. “Detective Bruno doesn’t take me seriously. He’s not going to do anything.”

  He groaned. “Missy you can’t just walk in here and—”

  “Missy Kingston, what a nice surprise.” Mayor Barrett walked over to us. “Annie said you were here to see me. I have a few minutes before my next meeting. How about we go back to my office and chat?”

  “Missy,” Max said. “Can I—"

  I smiled at the mayor, ignoring Max. “That would be lovely, Mr. Mayor. Thank you.”

  As we walked away, the heat from Max’s eyes burrowed into my back.

  Mayor Barrett offered me a seat at a small, round, wooden conference table in his office. He took a piece of candy from a bowl and then pushed the bowl toward me. “Would you like a hard candy? I’m a sucker for the peppermint swirl ones.” He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

  “No thank you, I’m good.”

  He took a seat across from me. “So, how are you? I didn’t get a chance to talk with you at the fundraiser because of the…situation.”

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

  “You here about the animal shelter? I understand the pooch parties are going well. That was a big task to take on, and I know the whole city appreciates what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, well, the dogs are important to me.”

  He nodded. “So, what brings you to my office today?”

  Mayor Barrett had been mayor for thirty years. A good ol’ southern boy born and raised in town, he’d done right by the majority, keeping the chicken factories open when the newer residents pushed to move them, keeping jobs for locals as local as possible, that kind of thing. He really did want the community to thrive, but he didn’t want to leave out the people whose families had been around since the start.

  I straightened in the seat and kept my shoulders back. “I’d…I’d like to talk to you about George Watson and Cindy Truelson.”

  He angled his head to the left. “George and Cindy. What terrible tragedies. They’ve done so much for the community.”

  “Yes, they have. I know the police have a suspect—”

  “I’m glad to see our police department working hard to bring in their killers. Shame about Jonathan Beemer though.” He made a tsk sound. “Good man like him. Just don’t know how that happens. How a man can break like that.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I think the police have—”

  He interrupted me again. “And Cindy.” He nodded. “Cindy was destined for great things, but we’ll get justice for her murder. The police will find her killer.”

  Tired of being cut off, I kept my sente
nce short and sweet. “Jonathan Beemer didn’t kill George Watson.”

  “What…what makes you say that?”

  “Because I think the person that killed George is the same person that killed Cindy.”

  He shifted in his seat. “The police don’t seem to agree with you.” He took another candy from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “How about we leave the investigation to them?”

  How about you stop being so condescending, I thought. “With all due respect, Mayor, I think the police have it wrong.”

  He kept doing the tsk and nod thing, and I knew he thought I was crazy. “Okay, I’ll play along. Who’s your killer in this little scenario of yours then?”

  I leaned back in my chair and stared directly into his eyes, all the while tensing every muscle in my body to stop them from trembling.

  He laughed and pointed a finger to his chest. “You think it’s me?”

  “George put you on the spot in front of two hundred people the other night, and a council man had to defend you because you…you what, froze? That must have really upset you. And all of those rumors about Cindy running for mayor? Those weren’t rumors, were they?”

  He stood. “I think we’re done here.”

  I clutched my purse to my torso as I got up. “Sam always liked you, Mayor, and I have, too. But the police are wrong, and I’m going to make sure they arrest the right man.”

  I stormed out and bumped right into Max.

  “Is he alive?”

  His attempt at humor didn’t work. I’d all but called the mayor of the city I’ve lived in for over thirty years a double murderer. I steadied myself against the wall.

  Max saw my shaking legs and trembling hands and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let me get you out of the hall.” He guided me to his office and dropped me into a chair in front of his desk.

  “You just made an enemy of the mayor.”

  “He can’t be mayor from prison.”

  “He’s not going to prison, Missy.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do, and I would have told you if you’d given me the chance.”

  “What? What do you mean?”