Murder on Ice

by B. T. Lord

  “I managed to get him into my bedroom where I took off his shirt and jeans and laid him down on my bed. I then went to take a shower. When I came out, he was gone, along with my SUV.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What could I do? I had no wheels, no way to chase him down. I tried calling him several times on his cell, but there was no answer. I figured he’d gone home to you. I planned on calling him at the garage the next day to have him bring my SUV back. But then of course I find out my vehicle’s been impounded because it’s part of a murder investigation.”

  “So you never saw Jace again after you got out of the shower?”

  “Get me a Bible and I’ll swear on it. I didn’t even know he’d gone until I got out of the bathroom and found him missing. I was so pissed, I had to talk to somebody. I ended up calling my cousin in New Hampshire. She’s always been good at calming me down.”

  “It never occurred to you he might have gone to Eli’s?”

  Carolyn shrugged. “No, why would it? It was obvious he wanted you. He kept muttering your damned name the whole time we were together.” She shook her head. “Whatever it is you have, you should really have it bottled. First Eli, then Jace. Jeez.”

  “What was your reaction when you found out Eli had been murdered?”

  “I was shocked, of course. He was so virile, so alive. It was hard to believe he was gone.” She jerked her head towards the bier. “Even with him lying up there, it’s still hard to believe.”

  “Are you sorry he’s gone?”

  Carolyn’s sharp gaze took in Cammie’s face. “About as sorry as you are. Look, I know the guy’s dead. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he was a self-centered, egotistical bastard who took what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. You know that better than anyone.” She sat back in her chair. “So there you have it. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” She smiled at her own witticism.

  “So if what you’re telling me is true, why did you take off for a week?”

  Carolyn heaved an impatient sigh. “I told you already. I had a business trip to Portland. The home office is thinking of expanding my territory and wanted to speak to me about it.”

  “That took a full week?”

  “Since I was down there, I decided to take a few days and treat myself to a trip to Boston. I haven’t been down there in a while and wanted to do some shopping on Newbury Street. My career is looking particularly good right now and I want to look the part.”

  Apart from wearing Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation gown, Cammie couldn’t see how Carolyn could dress any sharper than she already did.

  “You know we’ll need to check out your story.”

  “Be my guest.” She opened her handbag and took out a piece of paper. “Here’s all the information. The hotels, the car I rented. I even have the receipts for the business suits I bought at Sak’s Fifth Avenue.”

  Cammie took the paper and glanced down at it. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “You stayed at the Ritz Carlton?”

  Carolyn grinned. “Business has been very good this year. After that fiasco with Eli, I needed and deserved to pamper myself.” She reached out and to Cammie’s shock, patted the sheriff on the back of her hand. “If what I hear is true, looks like you’ll be doing a lot of pampering yourself. Imagine, half a mil for treating you like shit. Not bad, Cammie.” She abruptly withdrew her hand and stood up. “Am I free to go now?”

  “Just one more question. Do you own a gun?”

  A look of horror crossed over Carolyn’s face and she threw her hands up as if to ward off the terrifying thought. “A gun? Are you crazy? I hate those damned things. I wouldn’t go near one if you paid me.”

  “Stay in town. If you have any other trips coming up, tell me about it, even if it’s to go to Augusta to get your nails done.”

  “So I’m not exonerated?”

  “Your DNA was found at the murder scene. I could arrest you right now on that alone.”

  Carolyn forced herself to meet Cammie’s gaze. “And will you?”

  Cammie knew she wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. After receiving the phone records, she’d called Carolyn’s cousin to confirm their phone conversation the night of Eli’s murder. The two had been on Carolyn’s landline phone for several hours, up to and including Eli’s estimated time of death. Although it was very possible Carolyn could have simply called her cousin and taken her phone off the hook, Cammie’s instincts told her the woman was telling her the truth.

  She’d also noticed on the phone records that Carolyn called her cousin at least once a week. She suspected Carolyn did a lot of unburdening with her poor cousin – bitching about everything that had gone wrong with her life, and boasting when something wonderful happened. Knowing her as she did, Carolyn struck her as the kind of person who always found something wrong; never content or happy, but constantly finding fault. The chip on her shoulder, the chip that told her the world owed her because she’d once been fat and pimply was still there, hidden under the façade of a size 4 body, beautiful clothes and perfectly coiffed hair and make-up. How exhausting. Her cousin deserved a medal for listening to her.

  Cammie had known all this, yet strung Carolyn along, needing to hear it in her own words.

  She didn’t like herself at that moment. She’d been deceitful and manipulative, understanding that was the only way she was going to get Carolyn to talk.

  Maybe she was more like Eli than she’d thought.

  “Not right now,” she finally answered. “But I’m serious about letting me know your whereabouts. I want you near in case I need to ask you more questions. You disappear again, it’s going to look very bad for you.”

  Carolyn lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me, Cammie,” she spat out in disdain before brushing past the sheriff and walking down the aisle, the sharp clicking of her heels reverberating throughout the empty building. Just as she exited the door, one of the hearse drivers poked his head in.

  “Don’t mean to disturb you, Sheriff, but we were wondering if it’s okay to take the body now.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Deputy Belleveau also wants to know if you’re ready to leave.”

  “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  Alone again, Cammie went up to the casket, pressed her fingers to her lips, then placed them against Eli’s cold stiff mouth.

  “Good-bye, Eli. I sincerely hope you landed in a good place.”

  Wrapping herself in her parka, she stepped out into the frigid night. The reporters were long gone and the only activity involved the men loading Eli’s casket into the hearse to be taken for cremation. Rick came up to her and jerked his head towards Carolyn’s car as she drove past.

  “So Ms. Haskell decided to make an appearance after all.”

  “Yes she did.” They turned and walked towards Rick’s idling truck. As he drove the short distance towards her Explorer, she shared the details of her conversation with Carolyn, including the phone records backing up her story.

  “No offense, Cam, but did you ever consider the possibility that she might have dialed her cousin and left the phone on a chair while she killed Eli and set up Jace?”

  Cammie smiled, happy to see Rick’s investigative skills in action. “Rick, Carolyn is what we call a professional victim. After the humiliation she suffered at Eli’s hands, she would have needed to spill her guts to someone. She needs sympathy as much as I need to get these damned shoes off.” She glanced out the window. “No, I believe her story. She was too busy telling her cousin how much men suck to go out and actually hurt the men who had done her wrong.” She dug into her parka pocket and withdrew the receipts Carolyn had given her. “Just to be on the safe side though, can you check through these tomorrow and make sure they’re legit?”

  “So we’re back to square one, huh?” He sounded dejected.

  “Not necessarily. There’s still Eddie Paltrow.”

  What hung in the air between them,
and which remained unspoken, was the fact that Jace was still in the picture too.

  Pulling up next to her vehicle, she opened the door and climbed out of his vehicle. “Thank you for sticking around. See you in the morning.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to follow you?”

  “No. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”

  She got into the Explorer and quickly changed into her hiking boots. Her feet sighed with relief as she pulled away from the curb and started down the street.

  It had been a long evening. All she wanted to do was climb out of these clothes and collapse on her bed.

  She turned off the main road and onto the rutted snow covered path that led down towards her cabin. Tired as she was, it wasn’t until the last minute that something caught her attention and she slammed on the brakes. Through the dense grove of pine trees that hugged the last turn before reaching her cabin, she saw a flood of lights illuminating the night sky. She quietly opened the Explorer’s door and climbed out. Instead of continuing down the road, she entered the woods and slowly waddled through the thigh high snow, cringing as the icy cold flakes clung to her stockinged legs and scooted down the tops of her boots. Reaching an opening through the trees where she could see her cabin, she unconsciously fisted her gloved hands.

  “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.

  Surrounding her home were the three media trucks that had camped out at the gym, exhaust from their idling trucks polluting the crystalline air. She knew it was only a matter of time before they’d found out where she lived, but the sight of these people invading her refuge infuriated her.

  Her first impulse was to stomp down there and order them off her property. But she quickly realized the futility of it. They wanted a story, and the sight of a ranting sheriff would give them exactly what they wanted. She could just see them pointing their cameras at her, goading her into making a spectacle of herself. Weary, with her ankle throbbing, and her legs wet and frozen, she couldn’t trust herself to keep calm. Instead, with a heavy heart, she hurried back to her Explorer and backed up until she was back on the main road. She then picked up her cell, hit the automatic dial and waited.

  Twenty-five minutes later, she was standing in front of Doc’s door. He opened it, took one look at her parka, her soaking black stockings and rugged hiking boots and shook his head sadly.

  “Good Lord, my darling, I hope you’re not trying to start a new fashion trend. Somehow I don’t think Vogue would approve of your couture du moose.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Cammie reluctantly rolled out of bed at dawn. Upon first awakening she thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

  The bed was the most comfortable she had ever slept in. The sheets were of the finest and softest cotton. Crisp, cool and utterly inviting. The down filled duvet was so cozy and warm, she loathed the idea of slipping out from beneath them. Her experience in the shower clinched it. With several jets caressing her body with hot water, she wondered if she could convince Doc to adopt her. It wasn’t until she pulled on her black dress, the black stockings that now had several runs in them, and the hiking boots that she realized he’d never agree to it. Her fashion sense was too much of an affront to Doc’s delicate sensibilities.

  Last night, she’d been spared the worst of his acerbic tongue by the lateness of the hour. However, knowing him as well as she did, she thought it best to sneak out at dawn to avoid the biting remarks he’d probably been saving up for breakfast.

  Thank God she’d thought to replace the extra uniform and underwear she kept in her office. She wasn’t sure the media had left her property, and she wasn’t ready to find out. Not dressed the way she was anyway.

  By eight am, she was back on the road, properly dressed in her uniform, her black dress and stockings stashed in the back seat. She’d spoken to Lehane shortly after leaving headquarters. He was hoping to scatter Eli’s ashes over Waban Pond before he and Audella headed home. With two hours to spare before that painful ceremony, Cammie decided to keep her mind off it by checking to see if Eli’s neighbors had returned from their trip to Bangor. Rolling up the road, she was delighted to see their car parked in the driveway.

  John and Lavinia Ellis were in their mid-70’s. They’d lived in Twin Ponds all their lives, raising five children. In his younger days, John worked as a logger, then as old age crept in, settled into carpentry work. Lavinia helped with the bills by working as a seamstress and the occasional baker. They were now retired, though they both did the odd job here and there just to keep busy.

  Cammie was just getting out of her Explorer when the front door to the small, yet neatly kept ranch opened and John stood there. He was tall, with a slight stoop, and the beginnings of a beer gut that hung over the top of his jeans and between the suspenders Cammie always remembered him wearing. He had huge hands which he constantly used to pat down non-existent hair on his bald head.

  “Welcome, Sheriff,” he greeted. “I take it you’re here to talk about the bad business next door.”

  “Yes I am, John.”

  “Come right in. Lavinia put on a fresh pot of coffee and she’s just taking fresh blueberry muffins out of the oven. You’ll have some, a’ course.”

  “Of course.”

  Not only was Lavinia known as an excellent seamstress, she was also renowned for her exquisitely mouth-watering desserts. Even the normally cuisine fussy Doc was known to stop by and convince Lavinia to cook up a dozen of her muffins and cupcakes for him.

  As Cammie entered the spotlessly clean home, the smells of baking filled the air. Here and there she saw samples of Lavinia’s needlework in the reupholstered couch and chairs, and in various throw pillows that matched the furniture.

  The kitchen was small and tucked in the back of the house. There was a small round pine table and four chairs nestled in the corner that overlooked the back porch. The walls were papered with little red apples against a yellow background. Spread out on the table was the local newspaper which John quickly removed to make room for breakfast.

  Lavinia Ellis was shorter than her husband by almost a foot. She had on a pair of black slacks and a green turtleneck over which she wore an apron. Her grey hair was pulled into a bun and she looked up from the oven with a smile as Cammie entered the immaculate kitchen.

  “Morning, Sheriff,” Lavinia replied as she hurried to pour her a cup of coffee. “Good to see you.”

  “Good to see both of you. How is your new grandchild?”

  “Oh Lord, he’s such a beautiful baby. And big too! In the old days, he would have certainly become a lumberjack like his granddad.”

  She placed the cup of steaming coffee in front of Cammie, followed by the creamer and a sugar bowl in the shape of a bull moose head, his large antlers serving as handles.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t here to offer you any help,” John replied as he too poured himself a cup of coffee and sat opposite Cammie. “But you know how it is. Babies aren’t on a timetable.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable. You’re here now and that’s what counts.”

  Lavinia glanced at Cammie before turning her attention back to her muffins, which she had just taken out of the oven. “We heard about Jace’s arrest.” She shook her head. “Bad business all around.” She expertly removed the muffins from the tin, swooped one onto a plate and placed it in front of Cammie. “You can’t really believe that boy guilty,” she said softly.

  “I don’t want to. That’s why anything you can remember about that night would be extremely helpful.”

  “I don’t rightly know if there’s anything we can tell you,” John remarked.

  Cammie bit into the hot muffin and almost groaned with pleasure. Between sleeping in Doc’s luxurious bed and now eating these muffins, she wasn’t sure she could return to her cold, lonely bed and endless bowls of cornflakes. With Doc out, maybe she could convince the Ellis’ to adopt her.

  “Were you home the night Eli was killed?” she asked.

  �
��Yes,” John answered. “We’d gotten the call from Frank that Chrissy was in labor. What time was that, hon?”

  “Oh, I think it was about seven,” Lavinia replied. “The evening news was on, remember?”

  “Yes, you’re right. It was too late to start out for Bangor, so we decided to go first thing in the morning. Lavinia packed our bags and we went to bed early.”

  “Do you remember the time you went to bed?”

  “It was about nine thirty because we’d just finished watching a program on puffins.”

  Lavinia chuckled. “I know it’s going to sound silly, but I just love puffins. I remember when I was a teenager, I finally got to see one off Bar Harbor. Oh, I’ll never forget how beautiful they were, with their colored beaks and sleek little bodies.”

  Cammie finished the muffin with a deep sense of disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she’d discover from the Ellis’, but she’d hoped it would be more than two senior citizens going to bed early. Or sharing their love of puffins. She hid her dismay as she sipped her coffee.

  “So you saw or heard nothing coming from Eli’s house.”

  John thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, sheriff. Wish we could help more.”

  “Well, I had to ask.” Cammie finished up the coffee and started to get up.

  “There was that truck backfiring that woke us up. Remember that, John?”

  Cammie stopped and stared at John. “Truck backfiring?”

  It was Lavinia who answered. “Yes. John was asleep and I was just drifting off when we heard a truck backfiring. Woke him right up. Didn’t it, John?”

  “Yes, I’d forgotten about that.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to remember what time that was, would you?”

  Lavinia rested her hip against the counter and cocked her head slightly. “Mmmm, let me see. I was reading a murder mystery my daughter in law sent me for my birthday. It was so engrossing, I couldn’t put the darned thing down, but since we had to travel to Bangor the next morning, I made myself stop. Especially when I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly three in the morning.”