Murder in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  “Well that’s another story. I had Newmont drive him home. He said he found Eddie hiding on the back floor of my vehicle. When Newmont transferred him to the back of his car, Eddie hid on the back floor there too. He said he didn’t want anyone to see him with cops. When Newmont told him Jimmy had been killed, Eddie didn’t take it well.”

  “He’s probably afraid the killer will come after him next,” I replied.

  “If two guys from my poker game were both shot and killed. I’d be afraid too,” Sam agreed.

  “Point taken,” Matt said.

  “So Newmont drove Eddie home?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah. He said Eddie made him stop a block from the house. Then he sprinted from the vehicle to his house.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said.

  “Yeah sorta. I’ll come back to Eddie in a minute,” said Matt.

  I checked my watch impatiently.

  “I talked to Mr. B at Paulie’s Pub,” Matt said. “He looked like a movie mob boss dressed in a three piece suit. When I told him we’d found Jimmy Dietz dead at home and it was a probably homicide, he looked shocked. He claimed Jimmy was like a son to him. Evidently, he and his daughter planned to groom him to run Paulie’s Pub full-time.”

  “When was the last time he saw Jimmy?” asked Sam.

  “A week ago. He said Dietz seemed fine. Mr. B had family visiting and couldn’t come to Paulie’s this week. He also confirmed he got a call from the bartender saying that Jimmy was away on family business. It left him in the lurch and he wasn’t happy.”

  “So Mr. B has an alibi?” Sam asked.

  We heard Matt yawn into the phone. “On the face of it. However, he’s connected to organized crime. The sheriff’s department will be digging into his story.”

  “Mr. B didn’t talk to Jimmy in the last few days?” I asked.

  “He said he hadn’t. I asked him point blank if he had anything to do with Dietz’s death or if he knew who did it. He replied ‘No,’ to both questions.”

  “Did you believe him?” I asked.

  There was silence on the line. Then Matt said, “I had a bad feeling about him. However, I don’t have any evidence yet that ties him to Jimmy Dietz’s murder.”

  “I can’t believe how fast this has moved,” Sam said.

  Matt asked, “What do you mean?”

  Sam rubbed his face. “We just interviewed Jimmy on Monday. Now, days later, he’s dead. When we left his office, I thought we had reassured him that we weren’t going to talk to Mr. B. I even told him I didn’t think he’d killed Justin because I didn’t want him to bolt.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think he’d run either, much less end up dead.”

  “Well, it is what it is. Hopefully, the ballistics will help us nail him as the murderer and we can put this one to bed,” Matt replied.

  “Matt, why are you sharing all this with us?” I asked.

  “Your interview with Jimmy Dietz, in particular, let us move on this fast. Both Jimmy and Eddie Klein were pretty low on our list. So I’m willing to share some information with you. For example, I asked Mr. B why he went to Justin’s memorial.”

  I sat up straighter. “What did he say?”

  “He said he really liked Justin and considered him a friend. Evidently, they chatted a lot about antiques and history. Mr. B seemed surprised to hear about his death. He said Justin was a very bright, young man.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Sam and I talked about that possibility, but discarded it. It’s interesting to know that Mr. B liked Justin.”

  “Now, getting back to Eddie. I stopped at his house on the way back to Mystic Grove.” Matt said. “It looks like he skipped out.”

  “What!” I said in surprise. I had imagined Eddie at home with his dog, Flip.

  “He’s gone?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, the front door was open halfway, so I went in. It looked like Eddie came in and pulled some clothes out of the closets and drawers. His panel van was gone too.”

  “The dog?” I asked.

  “No sign of him.”

  Sam asked, “Did it look like someone took Eddie by force?”

  “No. The bedroom just looked like he left fast. The rest of the house was very neat. I had his wife’s phone number from the interview this afternoon, so I called her. She hasn’t seen or talked to him in over a week.”

  “What about that neighbor of his, Einstein?” I suggested.

  “Yeah, Joel Poston. Still in rehab but I did call him. Same story. He hasn’t talked to Eddie in a while.”

  “I hope Eddie is okay,” I said.

  Sam nodded. “Me too. Eddie is just a regular guy who got caught up in a bad situation. Divorced. Struggling to make ends meet. Is there a BOLO out on his van?”

  “There is,” Matt said. “If he’s driving around, we’ll find him. If we get any news, either Newmont or I will be in touch. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Matt,” Sam said and hung up. He suddenly looked very tired. “I really wish Eddie hadn’t run out.”

  “Me too, but he’s probably scared to death.”

  “True. But if he had stuck around, it would have been easier to help him,” Sam replied.

  I nodded. I imagined Eddie and his dog alone and on the run and felt a heavy sadness. I wished we could help him.

  ***

  On the drive home, I called Mom and immediately swore her to secrecy.

  “I’m serious, Mom. I don’t want to hear this news come back at me tomorrow at the Farmhouse Café or the Emporium because of your gossip grapevine.” Mom snorted into the phone. When I remained quiet, she said,

  “All right, all right, I’ll just tell Ben. What’s the news?”

  “The police found Jimmy Dietz murdered in his home today,” I said.

  “Murdered! Murdered? How? Who killed him?” she asked, the words coming fast.

  “I can’t answer questions about the murder, Mom. But they found Sig Sauer P226 in his home. Matt Durand said we‘d know tomorrow if it was the gun that killed Justin. I wanted you to know.”

  “We’ll know tomorrow? That fast? Do you still think Jimmy Dietz did it?” she asked.

  “He’s still at the top of my list. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything,” I replied.

  “Okay, thanks Liz. I just knew you could do it. Love you,” she said.

  Surprised, I replied, “I…love you too, Mom. Night.” We both clicked off. I smiled as I drove north toward home. I liked the warming of our relationship.

  I cracked the window to get some fresh air. Temperatures hovered in the thirties and felt unnaturally warm. The night was pitch black thanks to the cloud cover. Intermittent highway lights didn’t make the road much brighter.

  As I drove north on Mystic Road, I thought about Jimmy Dietz. Where had he gone after leaving Eddie’s house? Did Mr. B kill Jimmy or hire someone else to kill him? Would ballistics prove that Jimmy was Justin’s killer? And where was Eddie Klein right now? Was he safe?

  When an occasional car or truck sped past going south, I had to squint to reduce the glare from their headlights. Then it would go dark again. I was thinking about Eddie Klein when I noticed headlights in my rear view mirror. I focused on staying in my lane, but noticed the lights getting closer and closer. The vehicle behind me was moving fast.

  I felt a tickle of worry. In the side mirror, it looked like it was a car and not a truck behind me. Probably just someone on the way home from work, I told myself.

  Rather than trying to go faster, I took my foot off the accelerator and reduced my speed. The vehicle kept pace with my Mini Cooper. The road was dark and oncoming traffic had disappeared. I reached over and tapped the secret compartment, one of Lulu’s best features. It opened and I pulled out my “car” gun. You could never have too many spare guns. I placed the small Glock 42, a .38 caliber gun on the passenger seat.

  The lights behind me came closer until the car was near my rear bumper. I flicked my eyes from mirror to mirror trying to see the
driver. It looked like someone wearing a hoodie, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I took some deep breaths and focused. Although I’d trained in evasive driving at Worldhead Global Security, it was dark and the Mini wasn’t made for off-road driving. If I slammed on my brakes, I’d cause a collision, but I had no idea who was in the car following me. I reached over and grabbed the Glock. Then I punched the accelerator.

  Suddenly, the headlights behind me went dark. I checked my mirrors to see what the car was doing. Was he about to ram into my car? Then I saw brake lights flash on and off. Whoever the driver was, he had done a U-turn and was now headed back south.

  I merged left onto Farm Road, and headed north. I still checked my mirrors, but no one was following me. I briefly considered turning around and chasing the car. However, it was dark, I was tired, and it could be a trap. Gradually, my heart rate returned to normal.

  When I reached the B&B driveway, I slowed the car and turned left. I slid the Glock back into the hidden compartment. So much for my spidey sense. I debated calling Sam, but decided there was nothing he could do.

  I cruised up the driveway, past the warmly lit B&B, and parked Lulu in the garage. Walking down the path toward the coach house, I searched the shadows. I had pulled the Kahr CM9 from my coat pocket, just in case. But I didn’t see anything unusual. When I walked through the front door, the hall light was on. I could hear Olivia and Chloe laughing from the living room. After locking the door, I pressed my back against it and felt the tension leave my body. It was a relief to be home.

  Chapter 43

  The next morning, I felt overdressed as I hurried back from the Farmhouse Café with coffee, tea, and donuts. Overcast skies hid the winter sun, but the temperature was in the high thirties. Despite unsnapping and unzipping my parka, I was still hot in a turtleneck sweater and jeans.

  When I went through the door to our office, Sam was shadow boxing in the reception area. Somehow, his Irish cap stayed on his head as he bobbed, jabbed, and circled the room. He wore a gray Henley shirt and blue jeans. When he heard the “ding dong,” he stopped after a few more combinations.

  “Finally!” he said.

  “What?”

  “Martha called. They found an old letter in the Bible. She wants us to come over.”

  I was disappointed. I had hoped that Matt called with a ballistics report that nailed Jimmy Dietz for Justin’s murder.

  Sam took the drinks and donut bag from me and put them on the reception desk. I ran to my office and dumped my bag. When I returned to the front of the office, Sam was eating a long john with his eyes closed. My coffee was sitting on the desk.

  I uncapped the cup and took a sip. The caffeine went straight to my brain and I smiled. Then I grabbed a Boston Cream donut and took a healthy bite. The sugar and caffeine combined to wake me up. The only thing missing was some nice, crisp bacon.

  “Any other news?” I asked as we headed out. I polished off the last of the donut and took a healthy gulp of coffee.

  “Nothing yet. It’s too early.”

  We clattered down the stairwell and out the Bowman Building front door. Sam and I crossed Bridge road. I decided to tell him about the car that had tailgated me last night. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded. I kept walking. “Why?” he repeated, catching up to me.

  “I thought about it, Sam, but there was nothing you or I could do. I couldn’t identify the car or driver if my life depended on it.”

  Sam grunted. I glanced at him. His face was red and his lips had tightened into a straight line.

  “You keep too many things secret, Liz. If this is going to work, we have to trust each other. We’re a team. You have to let me know when this crap happens so I can help.”

  “I did tell you.”

  His face got even redder and he waved his hands. “The next day!”

  I sipped more coffee and nodded. “Okay.” It was too early to argue. However, I didn’t think of the car and driver as a secret.

  Martha and Peter stood at the front counter, grinning like Cheshire cats. Martha’s hand rested on the Bible.

  “Morning,” Sam and I said.

  “Hello hello,” Peter replied and gave us a little wave

  “So you found a letter?” I asked, smiling at Martha.

  “We did,” she replied. “It was hidden in the back cover.” She opened the Bible so that the inside back cover was visible. “Peter noticed that the back cover felt lumpy. When I looked at it, I found a strip of archival tape along the inside binding. When I removed that tape, I found a pocket inside the cover. That’s where we found the letter.”

  Martha lifted up the inside edge of the cover. I reached forward and slid a forefinger underneath.

  “It’s a secret compartment,” I said and smiled.

  Peter beamed. “Ingenious really.”

  Martha then showed us a folded letter on a blue mat. “This is the letter we found. There wasn’t an envelope. There were also two articles cut from Harper’s Weekly. One is an account of the Battle of Antietam and the other is an account of the Battle of Gettysburg. You can see the Harper’s masthead on both. They were folded up inside the cover too.”

  Leaning forward, I looked at the newspaper clippings. The paper was wrinkled and yellowed. I shifted my gaze to the letter. The large piece of yellowed and spotted paper had numerous fold marks. The ink was sepia brown.

  “This is a large letter sheet. You open it like so,” Peter said, opening it like a greeting card. There’s writing on all four pages.”

  Martha leaned against the counter. “It’s a letter from William Cahill to his older brother, John in Mystic Grove. The letter is dated October 24, 1862.

  “John Cahill was the owner of the Bible?” I asked and she nodded.

  “I’ll need a day or two to fully transcribe the letter. William did some cross-writing on the last two pages,” Martha said. “He filled a page with writing. Then he turned the paper ninety degrees to the right and continued writing. It’s also called cross-hatching.”

  I leaned over the letter and looked at the page she pointed out. I saw what looked like a pattern in ink.

  “Why did he do that and how are you ever going to read this?” I asked. Sam nudged me and I moved over so he could look at the letter.

  Peter stroked his beard. “Sometimes Civil War soldiers would get down to their last piece of writing paper. They’d write as much down as they could. With a letter sheet like this, William could have cut it into two separate sheets. But as you can see he had a lot to say.”

  “As far as reading it, you develop an eye for it,” Martha said with a smile. “We were so excited and wanted you to see it.”

  “Does this add to the value of the Bible?” I asked.

  Peter and Martha exchanged a look. “It’s hard to say. We’ll know more once we’ve transcribed the letter. But it’s unlikely it would add huge value,” Peter said. “If we could find a descendent of the Cahill family, they might pay more for the Bible and letter than the average collector.”

  Sam nodded. “Maybe it’s the letter that was important to Justin and not the Bible. Let us know when you get it transcribed?”

  “We will, Martha said firmly and Peter nodded.

  “Did you hear the news about Jimmy Dietz?” Martha asked.

  Sam frowned. “Did Chief Durand call you?”

  “Oh no. We heard through the grapevine that they found him dead and he might have been the one who…he might have been the one,” Peter said. “Do you know anything more?”

  Sam looked at Peter and replied, “No, nothing new.”

  Martha’s eyes welled up with tears. “Well it will be an even sadder day if one of Justin’s friends…” Her voice trailed off. I leaned over the counter and squeezed one of her hands.

  As we left the Emporium, I asked Peter, “Is my mother still a member of the grapevine?”

  “Sorry, Liz. We’re all sworn to secrecy,” he replied and winked.<
br />
  I sighed. “It’s like a secret society.” Peter’s deep laugh followed me out the door.

  Chapter 44

  We didn’t hear from Matt until late in the afternoon. I was in my office reviewing a background check when the front door alarm chimed. When I heard Sam greet Matt, I jumped up and took the shortcut into Sam’s office.

  Matt stood behind the first office chair, feet apart, and hands at his side. He was in uniform and looked tired. His face was pale and drawn.

  “Matt, what is it? You look terrible,” I said.

  “Thanks Liz,” he replied, frowning. “I’ll cut to the chase. We got the ballistics report back on Jimmy Dietz’s Sig Sauer. It’s not the weapon used to kill Justin Church. It was used to shoot the deputy sheriff and to kill Dietz.”

  Sam swore softly and I shook my head, absorbing the information.

  “Maybe he had another Sig that he tossed,” I proposed.

  “No, Liz. Jimmy didn’t kill Justin. We also went through security camera footage from Paulie’s Pub. Dietz walked through the door at 2:00 p.m. the day of the murder. He went to his office and didn’t come out until 4:45 p.m. Then Dietz went to the dining room and escorted Carlie Tate back to his office. At 6:00 p.m., they came out, returned to the dining room, and had dinner until 8:00 p.m. She left after dinner and he left later in the evening.”

  “So he told the truth?” Sam asked. I felt light-headed and sank into the second chair.

  “Looks that way,” Matt agreed. “Jimmy Dietz didn’t kill Justin Church.”

  I looked over at Matt. “Why did he run then? Why did he shoot the deputy sheriff?”

  He shrugged and sat in the chair. “Probably afraid of going back to jail.” He took off his hat and perched it on one knee.

  I shook my head. “But he knew he wasn’t Justin’s killer. He knew he’d never be convicted.”

  “Ex-cons don’t trust the system much, Liz,” Matt replied.

  Sam twirled his pen in his right hand and stared at the far wall. “Jimmy was afraid of something else. He definitely didn’t want to go back to jail, but there was more. Eddie explained it to us the last time we saw him. Jimmy viewed Mr. B as a mentor. He didn’t want to let him down. He was terrified Mr. B would find out that he loaned thirty grand to Justin. He was also afraid Mr. B would blame him if the police learned about the gambling at Paulie’s Pub.