“Okay, then, Detective whatever, I’ll have to direct you to my attorney. I have a worksite to get ready for tomorrow, so I need to get changed. Good day,” Baxter said pleasantly.
Delaney tried to ask another question, but Baxter raised his hand to her and said, “Attorney.”
Casper and Delaney stood and watched as he walked up the stairs and out of view.
“Well, you sure did a good job if you were trying to test his temper,” Casper chuckled.
Delaney grinned ear to ear. “Thank you, thank you. Now, I just need to go get some gum to wash my mouth out. I nearly threw up at the thought of sleeping with that scumbag.”
They retreated to the car and, true to her word, Delaney popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “So, what’s next?” Casper prompted.
“Next, we follow him.”
Twenty minutes later, Baxter emerged from the front doors of the hotel in a businessman’s version of work clothes. He wore neatly pressed Carhart pants and a button-down that had been ironed to perfection. Work boots without a single scuff mark completed his ensemble. He looked like a child playing construction-man dress up.
Delaney followed, a few cars behind him, and they were both surprised to find Baxter actually heading to a worksite. He pulled into a small clearing and shook hands with a few of his waiting men. Delaney pulled the car around the corner but into a wide part of the shoulder so that they could see clearly into the worksite. The night had fallen quickly and the stark contrast of the blackout forest and the fluorescent work lights made Baxter’s site look like a low-budget production of Shakespeare in the Park.
“So, what’s your plan after you wrap up this case? Back to ghost-hunting on the mean streets of Boston?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t think there’s much of a future for me there. It’s been a bad fit. I thought the hustle of the city would be a soothing presence, but it’s been quite the opposite,” Casper said.
“How so?”
“It just makes me, uh, panicky. Jumpy. It has been hard to feel safe lately.”
“Because of all the ghosts and stuff knocking down your door?” Delaney chuckled.
“I can’t keep up with your teasing approach. Am I a ghost or do I hang out with ghosts? You’ve gotta get your story straight, Del.”
Delaney shivered in her seat. “Ugh, quit it with that already. Plus, I bet you’ve had some nasty nicknames yourself, Mr. Casper Kelly.”
A quick movement in the light of the work site caught their attention, but it was just another worker arriving in a truck. “I tried to go by my middle name for most of Middle School, but it never stuck.”
“Is this where I beg you to tell me your middle name? Mine is Leslie, if that helps at all.”
“No begging necessary. It’s Archie.”
“Like Archibald?” Delaney cackled.
“No, just Archie. My parents are at least consistent with their terrible names.”
“Archie Kelly,” Delaney mumbled the name to herself between laughs. “I have to say that I like Casper a whole lot more.” Delaney had turned to face Casper and was grinning ear to ear.
“You and the rest of my sixth-grade class,” Casper said and rolled his eyes.
“Well, Archie, we’re in for a long night here. You up to taking the first shift while I try to sleep a bit?”
Casper nodded. Delaney settled in her seat and pulled a sweatshirt from the back, which she curled up into a ball and jammed between the door and the shoulder of her seat. Within minutes, she was quietly snoring. The sound made Casper smile more than he wished to admit.
He thought about the chaotic day and tried to focus on the dancing shadows floating around the worksite. Casper felt his eyelids grow heavy as he watched Baxter stand around and bark orders at his men as they moved soil and trees. His chin dipped toward his chest, but he fought off the sensation. He took a sip of water and rubbed at his eyes. But after a few minutes focused on the worksite, Casper’s body gave in and he drifted off into a dream.
“Casper, wake up,” Delaney said, lightly tapping his face with her palm. “Wake up!”
Casper blinked his eyes. The clock was blurry, but it was just past two in the morning. They had been waiting for Baxter to make a move for hours. He groaned as he sat up straight. “What? What is it?”
“Melanie Strong just walked out of the Punkhorns.”
THIRTY-ONE
Friday, August 10th
Melanie Strong sat in the interrogation room, sipping from a Styrofoam cup of water, showing no sign of damage or injury from her five missing days. Casper and Delaney watched through the two-way mirror. Since they’d arrived at the station, they’d been waiting for their chance to interview the once-missing woman. The chief finally poked his head into the small room and told them he’d be the one asking the questions.
“The mayor wants to make sure we cover everything, so, I’m going to take the lead. We can regroup after I get her story and ask anything additional. But for now, I’m going to get her statement. She didn’t say a word to the officer who brought her in,” Chief Slimmer said. His mustache bounced with every word. He nodded and went into the interview room.
Melanie Strong looked up with a wide-eyed youthful smile as the chief entered. “Hello, sir,” she said.
“Hello, Melanie. I’ve been told you refused medical attention, but I want to ask again; do you need medical attention?”
“No, sir. I’m untouched,” she chuckled. Her laughter disturbed Casper.
“I’d like to hear what happened, in your own words, please,” the Chief stated.
“Well, where would you like me to start?”
“How about the day you went missing?”
Melanie laughed. “Well, it truly starts a few days before that. May I start there?”
Slimmer nodded and lowered his pen to the notepad he’d set on the metallic table that was screwed into the tile floor.
“Last Wednesday, after our protest at the courthouse, I was given instructions to meet at a spot in the Punkhorns to fight Baxter’s plans. When I went there, I met a group of people who had been part of the protests and each had received similar instructions. We then found an envelope that held a bunch of smaller envelopes. Each of us found one with our names on it. We opened them and found our instructions. The plan was pretty straightforward,” Melanie spoke with a robotic cadence. She stopped to take a sip of water and then continued.
“I was told to launch from the south shore and to make sure that I brought somebody who could serve as an eyewitness for my disappearance. I was instructed to dive in and hold my breath as I swam towards the kayak behind us, which another protester was waiting in. I resurfaced on the other side of the kayak and they towed me to shore. Then, I hid behind a bush until the coast was clear and walked to a house that was about a half-mile up shore. Grace did the same. Aaron too but he was on foot.”
“And this was all written for you, in a note?” The Chief prompted.
Melanie nodded. “Yes. The whole plan was laid out. Step by step. In perfect, elegant calligraphy. Each person read their instructions aloud. Grace read hers first. Then I did. Then Aaron. The others read theirs. It’s not important that you know their names and I have no intention of sharing that information, anyway.”
The chief grumbled, “It is important, but go on. What house was this?”
“We stayed in the finished basement that Keri and Tate had retrofitted to fit a few extra twin mattresses. We just hung out, played cards and waited for word that told us it was time to return. We’d assumed that it would coincide with Baxter relenting and giving up his project. Then, just this morning, we heard that it was time to send a volunteer out to explain our story. That was me. And here I am,” Melanie smiled at the chief.
Casper shot Delaney a look at the mention of Keri and Tate. He tried to read her face to see if she was a co-conspirator who had warned them of their impending visit on Tuesday. Her stare was narrowed and hard, glaring at the young w
oman as if trying to decide if this was a bad dream or reality. She looked over his way and Casper saw the betrayal in her gorgeous green eyes. Casper nodded and turned back to the interview.
“So, Keri Perotta and Tate Archibald planned this whole thing?” Slimmer pushed.
“No, sir. They were two of the people in that field that received their instructions. Everybody played a part, but nobody was the puppet master. As far as I know,” Melanie amended.
The Chief looked down at his notepad. “And April? Jared? Hector? They were at that secret meeting in the Punkhorns?”
Melanie shook her head. “Not quite. None of them were, actually.”
“I don’t understand.”
“April was a late addition. She showed up at the house with this big, bright smile and an envelope that was written with the same angelic handwriting that the rest of our instructions were written in. I guess she was a last-minute plot twist.”
“But she was part of the plan? She was a willing victim?”
“Yes, sir. We all were. Our families knew as well, to some extent. We told them not to worry but not to say a word to the police. It was a pleasant surprise to see it all come together and work,” Melanie beamed.
“Go on,” the chief barked.
“Well, I think I know why we were asked to send out a volunteer to explain our ruse,” Melanie added. “Jared and Hector were not part of this plan. Something or someone must have taken them.”
The chief eyed Melanie, searching her face for the slightest indication that she was lying or intentionally misleading them. “What do you mean they weren’t part of the plan? How could you know that if you weren’t the person who orchestrated this plan?”
Melanie pulled a small envelope from her pocket and opened it on the table. A small index card slid out and Melanie turned it so it faced the chief. Slimmer read it aloud so that Delaney and Casper could hear from the observation room.
“We’re sorry for the pain we’ve caused and we’ll explain it all. But in the meantime, find Jared and Hector. They were not part of the conspiracy and we worry something serious has happened under the cover of our mischief.”
The chief took the index card and walked out of the room without a word. In the observation room, he found Delaney and Casper standing in shock.
“Chief, this is my fault. We should have interviewed Tate and Keri at their home, but they drove up and—” Delaney pleaded.
The chief raised a hand. “Shep, this isn’t on any of us. Would you have asked to search their house? I doubt it. So, what do you think now?” Slimmer asked, handing them the card.
Both of them read it, and Casper glanced up at the Chief. “Who do you think is behind this?”
“I sure as hell don’t know a thing besides that we’re going to press charges against every willing participant in this charade. This is lunacy!” the chief’s face reddened as he spoke.
“So, to recap, we know that Melanie, Grace, Aaron, Tate, and Keri were all in on this to some degree. Plus, the kayaker in Melanie’s story… and somebody must have assisted the others. We’re talking about a good chunk of this town conspiring to commit… well, I don’t know what crime it is necessarily, but it’s sure as hell a waste of department resources,” Delaney said in a somber tone.
Casper remained silent, examining the card in front of him, eyeing the swoop of every letter in perfect cursive. “Well, now we know that it’s not supernatural. I hate that I’m correct for once.”
Delaney flashed half a grin at Casper. He smiled back, but she had turned away before she saw it. The chief remained red-faced, wheezing.
“We’ve got to push forward. Let’s take this case from the start. Two men went missing in the Punkhorns in the middle of the night. This is a normal case, finally. Let’s solve this and bring peace to this half-sane town once and for all,” Chief Slimmer ordered.
Delaney nodded and followed him out of the room. Casper hung back and stared at the card. He knew from the second he’d seen it that something about it was familiar. He thought through old cases, wondering if this somehow related, but finally, it came to him.
Casper was certain he recognized that handwriting.
THIRTY-TWO
Friday, August 10th
The all-points bulletin for Rachel Spokes hadn’t yielded any results on the Cape, so the Chief had the bulletin extended to all of Massachusetts and both Logan Airport in Boston and Green Airport in Providence. Cambridge PD had parked an unmarked car outside her apartment but had nothing to report yet. Delaney had little hope for any news on that front.
It took Delaney a while to process Melanie’s re-appearance. She’d always seen Melanie as a good, upstanding citizen. Delaney wondered if people were angrier about Baxter’s destruction of the Punkhorns than she’d realized. That was the only rational explanation.
She was envious of how quickly Casper had accepted the news. She wanted to blame it on his out-of-town status but knew he was simply just a good judge of character, and somehow knew that Melanie’s story was certifiable. He referred to a mysterious source that could confirm the story for him and had ventured off on his own. Delanie struggled with how eager she was for his return. Not so much for the update but more for his reassuring presence in a time of pure chaos.
Brewster was in shambles after news broke about the conspiracy. Delaney had seen texts from people she’d barely spoken to in the past few years. An old fling that she went on two dates with even reached out to see if she had any news that she was willing to share. The town was grappling with the two consequential facts that Melanie carried out of that forest with her. Four people weren’t actually missing. Two were and might be in actual danger.
Through all the updates, Delaney continued to see BJ Baxter’s smug face staring back at her. Somehow, he was responsible, she just knew it. She had been convinced of his guilt, but now everything was uncertain and off track. Still, she felt he was responsible in some form. Either for driving Rachel Spokes into a murderous rampage which left two men dead somewhere, or for the crimes he committed with his own two hands. There was now blood on those hands of his, and Delaney was confident she’d find more evidence to pin him down for good.
Delaney heard muffled voices from behind the closed door of the chief’s office, but couldn’t make out a word. She eavesdropped, but the door swung open during her walk over. BJ Baxter, smirking, stood in the frame and stared right at Delaney. He winked at her and Delaney clenched her fists. But she held back when another man in a suit follow Baxter out and guided him towards the station exit. The chief then waved Delaney into his office for an update.
“Baxter and his lawyer came in on their own. Said you and Mr. Kelly have been pushing his buttons as of late and he wanted to clear the air,” Slimmer said. “He’s provided an alibi for each of the disappearances.”
“We don’t need the other alibis, we just need Thursday night,” Delaney snapped.
Chief Slimmer shot her a heavy stare, and then handed her a piece of paper. “He was at dinner with friends. Friend's names are private, but I was able to confirm it nonetheless.”
“What do you mean, private? This is a potential homicide investigation!” Delaney was simmering.
“Shep. Take it easy. I’m telling you he’s not our guy. Take my word for it for once,” the chief said with a level tone. “Re-canvas and see what you can turn up. Somebody in Brewster knows what happened to those men.”
Slimmer’s mysterious willingness to cover for BJ Baxter didn’t sit right in her gut and she decided, against her better judgement, to press the Chief further.
“Are you in bed with him? Is he paying you off?” Delaney put both hands on the top of the desk and stared at the chief. His face grew into a fiery red as jumped to his feet.
“Detective Shepard, I’m going to give you a pass on that one. We do not take bribes and we do not get in bed with businessmen or mobsters or monsters or unicorns,” he sprayed spittle with every word. “You need to learn to take an orde
r and leave it at that. Baxter’s not your guy. He’s a sonofabitch, but he’s not responsible for this. Now, get your cruiser and canvas the neighborhood until you’ve got something to report.”
Delaney recoiled and straightened her suit coat. The wrinkles and fold lines were more noticeable than she cared for, but she knew that was her own fault for stashing a change of clothes in her desk drawer. Still, the clean outfit was better than her gear from the stakeout, which still radiated with stink.
She nodded and choked back the last bit of pride that the chief hadn’t chewed through.
“Have I made myself clear, Detective?” Chief Slimmer enunciated each word.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Delaney sat in her cruiser fighting tears. She knew they were overdue from the stress. Each turn of the case yielded more bad news. She thought back to her conversation with Casper about faith, trying to recall what it was he had said about the absolute nature of belief. Maybe that was what she was missing after all. The only thing she was absolutely sure of was that this case needed to be solved as soon as possible or this town, and Delaney, would never be the same.
THIRTY-THREE
Friday, August 10th
“Mr. Kelly. Please Come in,” Mayor Peter Peck was surprised to see Casper at the front door of his residence. “You can just come and go through the basement door, I thought Ann had let you know that.”
“She did, sir. Thank you for that and thank you for your hospitality. You have a lovely home,” Casper said. “But I’m here as part of the case. Is your wife home?” They stood just inside the doorway and Casper waited to be asked inside.
“She’s upstairs. I can go grab her. Please have a seat on the sofa and make yourself at home,” the Mayor said.
Casper looked around. The blue and white checkered carpet lined the floor with a precision that Casper admired. Large rear glass doors and windows looked out onto stock-still water that shimmered in the absence of any wake. Photos of children, young and then grown, lined shelves between books, orchids, and succulents. The room was much more inviting than he’d realized in his brief walkthrough to the basement when he’d first arrived.
Welcome to the Punkhorns (Shepard & Kelly Book 1) Page 16
