Murder in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  I walked into the second seating area in front of us and tried to imagine the scene on the day Justin had been killed. Justin sat in the chair on the left, with the windows behind him. Dried blood caked a section of the rug by that chair. He faced the west wall of the room where someone swept books from the built-in bookshelves. Escape out the door would have been difficult, if not impossible. His killer was between him and the door and carrying a 9mm pistol. Justin had been trapped.

  My eyes shifted to the back wall. Evidence techs had cut out a section of the wall to the right of Justin’s chair. That’s where they found the embedded bullet. Fingerprint powder residue was everywhere.

  I walked around the chairs until I was behind Justin’s chair. Looking at the square section of removed plaster, I realized the bullet hit the wall about five feet high. I looked at Justin’s chair. Despite some dried blood splatter on the front, I didn’t see any bullet holes in the chair.

  “I see what Newmont meant. Justin must have been standing when the killer shot him. None of the bullets hit the chair.”

  Sam looked around and nodded. He walked over and looked at Justin’s chair. His eyes swept from the bookshelf to his left, Justin’s chair, and the back wall.

  “What does it tell you?” he asked. I sighed. Another test.

  “Somebody either wanted something from Justin or wanted revenge for something,” I said. “They were both sitting across from each other. Justin drank his whiskey but the killer didn’t. Then something happened. At some point, the killer went back to that wall and knocked some books off the shelves. Maybe he was trying to rattle Justin or maybe he was just furious because Justin wasn’t cooperating. After that, maybe Justin got angry and jumped up to go after the shooter. The killer got off three rounds, two found the mark, and Justin fell to the floor. At the same time, Sweet started ringing the doorbell, knocking on the door, and calling Justin’s cellphone. It probably scared the shooter. He looked for and found two of the casings, but left the third. He wanted to get out of Dodge. So he left quickly out the back door.”

  “That’s a viable scenario,” Sam agreed. “The whiskey makes me think they knew each other.”

  “Good point. You know, if Sweet is telling the truth, he missed running into the killer by minutes.”

  “Realizing that is probably why his doctor had to sedate him,” Sam replied.

  He pulled a pair of plastic gloves from his pocket and put them on. Then he methodically ran a hand around the seat cushion of each leather chair. He lifted an end of each chair and I looked underneath. Nothing.

  We left the parlor and returned to the front of the store. Peter and Martha stood behind the counter near the cash register.

  “One more question,” Sam said and they both looked at him. “Was anything taken from the Emporium that night?”

  Peter shook his head. “The expensive stuff was locked up and nothing was missing there. The killer didn’t take any money. Someone could have walked off with a book from our Book Room or some small item from the other rooms on the first floor. But I think everything is still here.”

  “Thanks Peter,” Sam said and slid a business card on the counter. “I’m sorry for all the questions.”

  “You’re just doing your job,” Peter replied. “If it helps to find our son’s murderer, it’s worth it.” Martha nodded in agreement.

  “If you find the Bible, please call us.” I said to Martha. “It may give us a clue about why someone hurt Justin.”

  “If it’s still here, I’ll find it and will call you,” Martha said with grim determination.

  Chapter 26

  When we got back to the office, Sam almost crackled with energy. His eyes were bright and he talked fast. "I know your mom and Ben are our primary clients. But I want to solve this case for Peter and Martha too. They deserve answers sooner than later.”

  I followed him into his office and sat in my usual chair. “I agree. They’re two of the nicest people I know.”

  He hung his parka up in the small, office closet and fell into his chair. Sliding a legal pad in front of him, he tapped on it with his pen. Then he quickly wrote something on the pad.

  “Okay, we need more in-depth information on the key players in this case,” he said. “I’m going to call Mitch Shepherd and ask him to do some profiles for us. So far I’ve got Justin Church, Eddie Spaghetti Klein, Jimmy Dietz, and Mark Sweet,”

  Mitch Shepherd was an old friend of Sam’s. He owned a cyber security firm in Madison and sometimes ran in-depth security reports for us. We never asked Mitch about the sources he used for the profiles he produced for us. Something about “plausible deniability.”

  “Anyone else?” Sam asked.

  “Ben Katz?”

  Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure.” He added Ben’s name to the list.

  “It’s just to be thorough,” I said, feeling defensive.

  “Of course,” Sam agreed, looking at the legal pad. “This is a good start. I’ll call Mitch now.”

  I went to my office feeling optimistic. Sam was fired up, which was good. I knew that Mitch Shepherd’s profiles would help us to better understand the key players we had identified so far. I was convinced that Ben Katz wasn’t the man Angela Apstead saw leaving the Emporium the day of the murder. We just had to prove it.

  ***

  At 1:30 p.m., we walked into the Mystic Grove police department. We traded waves with Joyce Tani.

  “Is Matt free?” Sam asked. Joyce phoned Matt, said something, and nodded. As she hung up, she smiled and buzzed us through the door into the inner office area.

  Matt stood as we went into his office. He smiled broadly and said, “Hey Lizzie, how are you?” His blue eyes did that crinkly thing I remembered from high school.

  “Good, Mattie. How are you?” I asked.

  “So-so. Hey Sam,” Matt said, the smile diminishing.

  “Matt. We come bearing a gift,” Sam said placing the large plastic evidence bag with the letter we’d received on Matt’s desk. We all sat down.

  “What’s this?” Matt asked, sitting down, and pulling the bag toward him. He read the label Sam had completed and attached to the bag. It listed his name as the first person in the chain of custody, date received, and the contents. Matt nodded and flipped the bag over. He read letter silently through the clear plastic.

  “It’s a letter we got at the office yesterday. It was left at the door and not mailed,” said Sam.

  Matt chewed on his cheek. “We got this exact same letter in the morning mail.”

  “Really?” Sam asked. “Someone sure wants us to jump on Fletcher.” He didn’t mention we were meeting with Damian at 4:00 p.m.

  “Any idea who?” Matt asked, looking at Sam.

  Sam shook his head. “No idea at all.” Matt’s eyes shifted to me and I shrugged.

  “Well, after we got the letter this morning, I added Fletcher to our interview list, just to cover the bases,” Matt said.

  “Okay. If we find out anything on the sender, we’ll let you know,” Sam replied. “Hey we were over at the Emporium talking to Peter and Martha. I noticed you left the Justin’s computer in his room. How come?”

  “For some reason, the crime scene investigators didn’t take it in with them. Newmont’s going to bring it to Madison for them today,” Matt replied.

  “Okay. I just wanted to make sure they didn’t overlook it,” said Sam.

  “Matt, have you interviewed Mark Sweet yet?” I asked.

  “Got it done this morning. His doctor had him medicated and sleeping since the murder,” Matt said, shaking his head.

  “Did he stick to his story?” I asked. Matt made a face and ran a hand through his brown, curly hair.

  “Is Ben your client?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said and heard Sam groan. I knew I wasn’t supposed to reveal a client’s name, but Matt was like family.

  He smiled. “Okay, I like Ben, so I’m going to share more than I normally would. But you both have to keep any informat
ion to yourselves.” His eyes went back and forth between Sam and me.

  “Done deal,” Sam said and I nodded.

  “All right, Sweet stuck to his story. He said the time discrepancy was because he ran to Founders Road and just stood there for a while. Said he had a panic attack and thought he was going to puke. When he felt better, he came back to the front by the Saucy Shop and the Emporium and called it in.”

  “I heard he was there to talk to Justin about a business deal,” I said. “Was that true?”

  “From your sources?” Matt asked. It seemed rhetorical so I just smiled. Matt shook his head and replied, “Yes. He said there were a couple of commercial and residential housing developments in the planning stages and he thought Justin might be interested in investing. He wanted to feel him out.”

  “Did you believe him?” Sam asked.

  Matt shrugged. “We’re going to verify the projects. However, Peter and Martha didn’t make it sound like Justin was rolling in enough money to invest in anything. We’ll know more when we get his bank statements.”

  “Any history of problems between Sweet and Justin?” I asked.

  “Not that we’ve found,” Matt replied. Disappointment washed over me. I was hoping more evidence would point to Sweet and show that Ben Katz was a less viable suspect.

  “Did Sweet say where he was before going to the Emporium?” Sam asked.

  Matt slid his eyes to Sam. “Yeah, he said he was at Smitty’s gun range shooting his Glock 19 from 2:00 p.m. until 4:00 p.m. Newmont called Smitty and he confirmed Sweet was there at that time.” There was something off in Matt’s voice.

  “You have doubts of some sort?” I asked, feeling a sliver of hope. Matt looked back at me.

  “Not really. I did get a warrant for any 9mm handguns Sweet owns. We’re executing it this afternoon. Since Sweet found the body, I want to touch all the bases again,” Matt said.

  “What about Ben?” I asked.

  Matt took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “Haven’t ruled him out. He’s still a suspect because of the arguments and bad blood between him and Justin. He also doesn’t have an alibi. If his two pistols test out clean, he’ll move way down the list.”

  “Not off the list?” I asked sharply.

  “It’s always possible he hid the murder weapon somewhere on his property and didn’t turn it over,” said Matt.

  “That’s just ridiculous! If Ben ever did kill someone, he’d be over here turning himself in with the murder weapon, not hiding it.”

  “Liz…” Sam said.

  “Well, it’s true,” I snapped. “It seems like the police want Ben to be the killer.” I glared at Matt.

  Matt smiled ruefully and spread his hands out.

  “That’s not true, Liz. I meant it when I said I liked Ben, but I have to follow the process. We have to wait for the ballistics on his guns and work the other evidence. If you want to help Ben, find me other suspects that are more credible.”

  “Mark Sweet. Damian Fletcher,” I said pointing to the evidence bag on his desk.

  “Damian Fletcher?” Matt asked, arching his eyebrows.

  “Well, okay Mark Sweet then,” I replied.

  “Him I’m interested in,” Matt agreed.

  The meeting broke up shortly after that and Sam urged me along, out of the police station. I caught him looking at me sideways.

  “What?” I asked sharply. “I didn’t pull my gun or anything.”

  Sam just snickered.

  Chapter 27

  After our meeting with Matt, Sam left to run an errand. I went back to the office and updated the case file. Then I started a case board in the conference room. By the time I was done, I had small photos of Justin Church, Mark Sweet, Ben Katz, Damian Fletcher, and Angela Apstead on the whiteboard. I marked Ben and Mark Sweet as suspects. I also included a question mark for “Mystery Man” as a suspect. For Ben I listed a motive of “anger over land development.” For Sweet I wrote “Unknown Motive” and added an arrow to Justin labeled “Found body.” I noted that two anonymous letters had implicated Damian. Finally, I tagged Angela with “Witness.”

  “Pretty sparse,” I muttered. The front doorbell chimed and Sam called, “It’s me.”

  “Conference Room,” I called back.

  When Sam entered the room, he carried two bottles of strawberry-banana Sobe fruit juice. It was one of his favorite drinks and I was becoming addicted too.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle he offered. It was ice cold. Sam sat in the chair next to me.

  “Mitch called and will have Mark Sweet’s profile by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Also, I made an appointment with Mr. Sweet for 3:30 p.m. tomorrow” Sam said. He sat back and sipped his Sobe.

  “That’s good. You know, despite what Newmont said, I could make a good case for Sweet being the killer.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Sam said, his eyes moving from the case board to me.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, this theory is just for the shooting, not the beating. What if Sweet arrived earlier than he said, like 4:15 p.m., and met with Justin? They argued about something and he shot Justin. Then Sweet left the three cellphone calls from inside the parlor. After that, he ran out the back at 4:54 p.m., dumped his bag and gun in his car, and came back to call the police.

  Sam thought for a minute. “What about Angela? She said she knew Sweet and it wasn’t him.”

  “Eyewitness accounts are often unreliable. She saw a bearded man in dark clothes at night moving fast. There’s a chance she was mistaken.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, “it’s a plausible scenario. But the big question is...”

  “Motive,” we both said in unison.

  “I have no idea what the motive was,” I admitted.

  Sam stared at the case board. “The other thing we have to remember is that it could have been some random robbery and may have had nothing to do with the man Angela saw.” I looked at the board too. A random robber would be difficult to catch. Although I didn’t like the idea at all, I got up and added “Random Killer” under suspects.

  Sam was quiet for a bit. Then he said, “The thing that keeps running through my mind is how last summer, Peter and Martha talked about money problems and Justin thought they should sell the Emporium. However, when they brought it up again in November, Justin was opposed to selling. He said God would provide money for them. What changed from summer to autumn? Why did Justin think they’d be getting some significant money soon?”

  I rolled that around in my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think the money Justin expected to get was connected to Mark Sweet, though.”

  “Why not?” Sam asked.

  “Sweet wanted to buy the Emporium, but Justin was encouraging his parents not to sell. So they weren’t working together on that. And unless Justin had a secret stash of money, he wasn’t wheeling and dealing with land development.”

  “Good points,” Sam agreed.

  “Maybe Justin had some other project he was working on,” I said. “Or maybe he was gambling and thought he was going to hit it big there.”

  “Yeah, the gambling is an interesting angle. We may be able to find out more about that when we talk to some of his friends,” Sam agreed. He stretched his legs out and took a swig of Sobe.

  “I can’t prove it, but I think Sweet is lying,” I said.

  “If he is, we’ll find out sooner than later,” Sam replied, firmly. His confidence encouraged me.

  ***

  It was almost 4:00 p.m. when we entered the lobby of Fletcher Enterprises. The company was located in a modern, two-story office building nestled in a wooded area off Pine Road. It was five miles east of the Mystic Grove historical district.

  We took the elevator up to the second floor and checked in with the receptionist. She directed us to the corner office at the end of a long hall. Sam and I had agreed to avoid the subject of Sherrie. However, I was still nervous about seeing Damian in person. After our telephone conversation, I wasn’t sure what his mood would be
.

  The door was open so I knocked on the doorframe. Damian and his father, Martin Fletcher, were deep in conversation. Damian sat behind a large, wooden desk and Martin leaned forward in a side chair. Damian wore sweats and his father wore a suit.

  At my knock, Martin rose and turned. He was a tall, aristocratic man in his mid-sixties. He had a thin frame, thick white hair, and a trim white beard and mustache. His gray eyes twinkled.

  When he saw me, he broke into a big smile and quickly crossed the room. “Lizzie, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages. You’re all grown up!” We hugged. I was pleased he didn’t say a word about my short, white hair.

  I looked at him with affection. “I’m fine, sir. You haven’t changed a bit. How are you and Cecille?”

  “Cecille is after me to retire every day. We’re both fine. How are your Dad and Mom?”

  I smiled. “They’re both good. You know they divorced four years ago, right?”

  Martin tilted his head as he spoke to me. “I did. I was sorry to hear that. They seem to have had a very amicable divorce, though. We’ve seen Andrew and Lilly at the B&B with their new partners and they all get along so well.”

  I laughed. “I know. It’s disconcerting, Mom and Dad get along better now than when they were married. Dad gave up his law practice to help run the B&B. Mom and her boyfriend, Ben, come for dinner at the B&B with Dad and his girlfriend, Margo. Mom has done some cooking classes at the B&B and cooks a gourmet meal for the guests every so often. It’s bizarre.”

  Martin laughed. “Well give our love to everyone. We’ll be over to the B&B for the fish fry one of these Fridays.”

  “I will. Grandma Addie and Nana Anna would love to see you both. It was great seeing you,” I said and we hugged again.

  Then I remembered my manners and introduced Sam to Martin Fletcher. They shook hands and sized each other up. The three of us walked over to Damian’s desk and be stood up slowly. Sam reached over to shake his hand. Damian was relaxed and smiling. I raised a hand in greeting and sat in one of the visitor’s chairs in front of the desk. Sam sat in the second chair and Martin stood between us. Damian slowly sat back in his chair and I saw him wince.