Murder on Ice

by B. T. Lord

  “Whoever it was must have heard how you handled Audella and decided not to take any chances.”

  She smiled, but said nothing. She did respond, however, when Rick gave her his next piece of news.

  “Jake Matheson found Eddie Paltrow.”

  Her eyes widened. “Where?” she asked.

  “He was hiding out in an old abandoned cabin near Berk’s Bluff. The roof caved in on that place years ago. What with the blizzard and all, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “I stopped off to question him, but he’s in bad shape. He was suffering from hypothermia and frostbite. Mark airlifted him to Carey Medical. Doctors say I should be able to question him in a couple of days.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Rick lifted an eyebrow. “Uh, are you up for that?”

  “Although this case is technically closed, for my own sake, I need to clear up a few things with Eddie.”

  “I can do that.”

  Cammie looked at Rick and smiled warmly. “I know you can, Rick. However, this is something I’d like to be present for. Only then can I finally put this case to bed.”

  Throughout the rest of that week, a steady stream of well-wishers dropped off gifts for her – Lars brought her favorite ice cream, Mrs. Nation knitted her a shawl, and the Ellis’ made sure to bring enough mouthwatering blueberry muffins that made even the caustic doctor light up with glee. Mayor Barnes dropped by, ecstatic in his praise for her while conveniently forgetting his vow to fire her.

  Amazing what exonerating the Night Hawks captain will do to a person.

  Jace also made an appearance. She was woozy from the painkillers, but the Percocet wasn’t enough to bridge the awkwardness between them as Jace sat by her bedside. They chitchatted about nothing, both careful to avoid the enormous white elephant that stood between them. When he finally left, it was both relieving and heart wrenching.

  After Jace, the most painful visit was from Tudor. He’d stopped by, sheepishly holding a box.

  “I honestly didn’t know what to do with this. I thought you should rightfully have it,” he said as he placed the large cardboard box on the coffee table in front of where Cammie lay.

  “What is it?”

  He hemmed and hawed. Finally, he blurted out, “They’re Eli Kelley’s ashes. I found them in the Tylers’ room after – well, you know – after everything.”

  Cammie stared at the cardboard box. She’d conveniently forgotten about the plan she and Lehane had of spreading Eli’s ashes over Waban Lake. Now Lehane was gone. And she was – she didn’t know what she was. But she certainly wasn’t quite ready to do this.

  “Um, thanks Tudor. You did the right thing.”

  After Tudor left, Doc wandered into the room. When she told him what was in the cardboard box, he quickly whisked it out of her sight. “There will be plenty of time to take care of this,” he replied tersely.

  For once she was grateful for his mothering ways.

  Yet it was a surprise visit from Cora that truly left Cammie flabbergasted.

  One late afternoon, as the sun filtered in through the windows, throwing a warm, golden glow throughout the living room, Cammie lay on the couch, listening to Doc singing to his favorite opera as he worked in the kitchen. She hated opera, but she loved listening to Doc sing. He had a surprisingly strong voice – another little secret from his past that he never shared with anyone. Just as he was lulling her to sleep with a beautiful rendition of Nessun Dorma, a knock came on the door. Doc hustled to answer it, soon returning to the couch with a pensive look on his face.

  “It’s Cora. She insists on seeing you.”

  Cammie blinked in surprise. “Cora? Dear God, I hope she’s not going to make any more predications. That last one was enough to last me two lifetimes.”

  “I think you should save her visit for another day. Preferably in the next century.”

  Cammie chuckled as she sat up. “Heck, no. She must have something important to say to come all the way over here.”

  Doc eyed her. “Are you sure you’re up to a visit from the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, ignore any screams you might hear. She’s not getting near you until I’ve frisked her. I’m not about to lose you to any germs associated with those feathers or bundles of God knows what she’s always carrying around with her.”

  Cora must have passed inspection because a few moments later, she hobbled into the living room, her cane banging against the polished wood floors.

  “My, my, now ain’t this the cat’s meow,” she said as she looked at the giant river stone fireplace, and the plush furniture and rugs. “A girl can quickly get used to this, gunshot wound or no gunshot wound.”

  “Would you like me to stay?” Doc asked, eying the woman suspiciously.

  “I came to talk to the sheriff here,” Cora snapped. “Not you. Besides, from what I hear, you got quite a lot of preparin’ to do for your big Thanksgiving shindig.” She imperiously waved her hand at Doc.

  The doctor’s face reddened. He wasn’t accustomed to being ordered about, especially in his own home. Before he could respond, Cammie quickly interjected.

  “That’s okay, Doc. I’ll be fine.”

  He hesitated, gave Cora one last glare in an attempt to reassert his dominion over his home, then left the room.

  Cora ignored him. She plopped her rail thin body, encased in an oversized parka, in Doc’s chair and leaned on her cane. She stared at Cammie intently, silently assessing her.

  Cammie forced herself to meet Cora’s gaze. Mentally, despite the drugs, she prepared herself for whatever was about to come out of the old woman’s mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, the old woman finally sat back with a sharp nod of her head.

  “I like you now,” she said, emphasizing her words with another sharp nod of her head. Cammie almost did a double take. She’d been expecting Cora to tell her aliens were about to abduct her. Or that her cabin was inhabited by the ghosts of Thanksgiving turkeys past. Telling Cammie she liked her was the very last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

  “Because I almost got killed?” Cammie couldn’t help but ask.

  “Nah. Because you’re true to yourself now. You got in touch with your soul.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Cammie admitted.

  Her grin grew wider. “You will.”

  It wasn’t until the next day, after the Thanksgiving meal had been consumed, after she’d been toasted and re-toasted until she was ready to scream, that she finally realized what Cora had been trying to tell her.

  Doc had placed her opposite Jace. Despite the merriment and celebration, the awkwardness between them was still palatable, if only to themselves. They’d not shared a word except ‘hello’, ‘good-bye’ and ‘how are you’ before being caught up with the other guests.

  After dinner, Jace hadn’t stayed long. He’d spent the evening casting glances her way, so she was a little surprised when, right after dessert, he made his quiet good-byes to Doc and slipped out of the house.

  Soon after, exhausted by the day’s events, and so full from Doc’s excellent meal that she was afraid she’d burst, she’d made her own farewells and waddled up the stairs to her room. She took a painkiller and waited to be transported to la-la land. Just before she fell asleep, she made a decision she hadn’t thought herself capable of making. Not with her checkered history with men. Yet, once the decision was made, she felt good about it.

  Stretching out over the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, Cora’s words drifted back to her. In a moment of complete clarity, she finally understood what the old woman had been trying to tell her. It brought a smile to her face and she gently fell asleep.

  A week later, after being flown by Mark Nelsson in his DeHavilland Beaver, Cammie and Rick walked into the hospital room and found Eddie lying on the bed, hooked up to an intravenous drip. Jake Matheson hadn’t been exagg
erating. Eddie looked horrible. His oversized hospital gown made him look as though he’d shrunk. His face was gaunt, he’d lost weight and there was a white patch on the tip of his nose where frostbite had started to set in. A surge of pity ran through her as she sat down in the chair next to the bed while Rick leaned against the door.

  Paltrow glanced at her and grimaced. “Christ. It’s you. This is all your fault, you know,” he whined in a voice broken by too much snow and cold and fear.

  “Actually, it’s your fault. You shouldn’t have run away.”

  “You were going to arrest me.”

  “At that moment, I wasn’t. I was just asking you questions. However, if I had arrested you, you would have been in a warm cell with three meals a day instead of freezing you ass off in the middle of the wilderness where you almost died.”

  He grunted non-committedly. “I should sue you. It was that stupid reward you put out on me that forced me into those godforsaken woods. Every fucking Tom, Dick and Harry was searching for me.”

  “You still managed to get to Lehane.”

  “He was a bastard. He had no right to tell you about Lucy. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I’m not sorry he was a loudmouth.” He looked at her sling. “So it’s true, huh? Tyler’s crazy wife shot you.”

  “Yes she did.”

  He shook his head. “Never saw that coming. She was one helluva actress, I can tell you that. She really had me believing she was a complete air-head.”

  “The doctors say you’ll be fine,” she said, trying to change the subject.

  “Yeah. That lumberjack or hunter or whatever the hell he was found me in the nick of time.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  He looked down at the sheets for a moment, then back up at her. “Hey, I’m sorry I tried to run you over that day at the Timberwolf. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Cammie’s suspicions kicked in. His abrupt change from anger to contriteness didn’t ring true. She put it aside for the moment as she leaned forward in her chair.

  “You know why I’m here.”

  He nodded. “What difference does it make now? You caught the killer. I’m not a suspect anymore.”

  “That’s true. But I’m curious about a few things that I’d like to tie up. Do you feel like answering them?”

  For a moment she thought he would refuse. She knew he didn’t need to answer anything. The murderer had been caught. Paltrow was exonerated. Yet she and Rick were here because, like Audella, she didn’t like to leave any loose ends. Once she had those loose ends tied up, she could, once and for all, close this case. And thankfully never open it again.

  Once again her instincts hummed as she watched the display of emotions dance across his face. Defiance, refusal, then reluctant submission.

  “Fire away,” he replied.

  “Why did you lie about being in Boston to watch the Celtics play when you were, in fact, already in Maine?”

  He fell into a silence that stretched into what seemed like hours. In the background, the din of a busy hospital filtered through the door, accompanied by the occasional sound of the loudspeaker calling for a doctor or nurse. Cammie sat back in her chair and patiently waited. Paltrow would answer, she had no doubts about that. He was easier to read than a children’s book.

  Rick however, wasn’t so patient. He was worried about Cammie. Her face was pale, and he knew she was in pain, despite the medication. She shouldn’t have made this trip, but if there thing he’d learned about his boss - she was one stubborn woman. He wanted to get Paltrow to give her what she wanted so he could get her back to Doc’s. His irritation at the whole situation, and especially at was one Paltrow, bubbled over.

  “Hey dude, you said you’d cooperate,” Rick said, a little too sharply.

  “Alright, alright. This isn’t easy for me, okay?” He took a deep breath. “When my wife cheated on me, it was devastating. You have no idea what that does to a person. Especially when I found out she was cheating with the great Eli Kelley. I had to get away. I had to think and figure out what I wanted to do. A friend of mine owns a fishing cabin near Gouldsboro, Maine. He’s been after me for years to come out and visit. So I did.”

  “This was while Eli was seeing your wife?” Cammie asked.

  Paltrow nodded. “Yeah. While I was there, I met a woman. She was my buddy’s neighbor and recently divorced. One thing led to another. I thought it was the perfect way to get back at Lucy. If she could screw around with Kelley, I could screw around with Maxine. The problem is that Maxine isn’t the kind of woman you just mess around with and forget. She’s kind and sweet and understanding.”

  “And you love her,” Cammie finished.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. When Lucy and I got back together, I thought to end it with Maxine. But I couldn’t. There’s something about her. She’s everything Lucy isn’t.”

  “Then why do you stay with Lucy?”

  “You see what Lucy looks like? She’s a knockout. I know she’s only with me because of who I am. But when I see the other guys looking at me when I’m with her…” he shook his head. “Maxine doesn’t give a shit about whether I’m a famous sportswriter, or whether I’m on a first name basis with some of the greats in professional sports. She loves me for me. About twice a year I fly out to see her. We spend a week together, then I head home. In fact, if it wasn’t for Eli’s death, I’d probably still be with her. We were planning a trip to Canada when I got word about the murder.” He gave her a self-conscious glance. “That’s the God’s honest truth, Sheriff. I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want Lucy to find out. Not after the stink and the guilt trip I put her through when I found out about Eli. Nor do I want to drag Maxine into this mess. She doesn’t deserve that.”

  Cammie looked at him. And knew he wasn’t lying. She slowly nodded. “Thank you, Eddie. What you’ve just told us will stay in this room.”

  She slowly stood up, dismayed to discover how exhausted this little jaunt had made her. She pushed it aside long enough to give Paltrow a stern look. “I don’t care what you write about Eli, but I will not see my name mentioned anywhere in your book. The most I will accept is the phrase ‘investigating officer’ and that’s it. Any hint of who I am, or what I look like, and I’ll personally get on a plane to Chicago and tell your wife everything. Are we clear?”

  His eyes widened and he paled even more than he already was. “How did you know I was planning to write a book on Eli?”

  She hadn’t. She’d taken a guess, knowing there could be only one reason he’d suddenly become so cooperative.

  “You’re a writer,” she answered shortly. “So, do we have a deal?”

  “Sure, sure. Say Sheriff, can you get that big gorilla at the Timberwolf Inn to send me my computer? I’ve got all kinds of ideas and angles for my book. One of them is to build up Eli’s rags to riches story. People love that sort of thing. Small town boy makes good. Even have a title for it. ‘Murder on Ice’. Catchy, eh? Hey, maybe you can tell me what Eli was like as a kid. You know, background stuff.”

  She eyed him steadily. “Don’t push it, Paltrow.”

  They left Eddie’s room. Outside in the corridor, Rick offered Cammie his arm. Her first instinct was to refuse. But too much had happened over the last few weeks. She’d discovered she wasn’t an island unto herself. The walls she’d built up that made her believe she had to be impregnable with everyone were falling.

  And she didn’t care.

  “You’re an excellent deputy,” she said as she gratefully took Rick’s arm. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him beaming.

  Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?

  That left one more person she needed to allow through the demolished barriers in her heart.

  The next morning, she awoke with a sense of purpose and renewal. She took her time showering and dressing, careful not to tax what little strength and energy she had. She folded her fingers around the two necklaces she wore about her neck - one with the two c
rossed hockey sticks, and the other with the shimmering crescent moon, and smiled. It was going to be a good day. She could feel it.

  However, there was still the matter of convincing Doc to allow her to borrow his truck. Her Explorer was in the shop having the windows replaced that Audella had shot out. Over his protests, she promised to take her time and drive slow.

  “I need to do this, Doc.”

  He saw her determined eye, and reluctantly handed over the keys.

  Despite how easily she tired these days, Cammie relished the drive. Even the awkwardness of steering with one arm in a sling didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for being outside. The trees looked beautiful in the sunlight, shimmering with white blankets of pristine snow, and she breathed a long sigh that spoke of freedom and new beginnings. She stopped off at the garage, only to be told Jace had gone on an errand.

  It didn’t take her long to figure out where he was.

  When she pulled down her driveway, she saw that her instincts were right. There was Jace’s truck parked in its usual spot. A fierce love arose in her chest and she could barely wait to park the truck before she was out and through the front door.

  “Jace!” she called out.

  A moment later he came out of the bedroom. He looked surprised at the sight of her.

  “Should you be up?” he asked. He glanced out the picture window at Doc’s truck. “Should you be driving?”

  “As much as I love being at Doc’s, I’m going stir crazy. I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing.”

  “You’re not doing nothing. You’re recuperating from a gunshot wound.”

  She grinned. The worry in his voice was evident. It felt so good to hear his concern. In the past, she would have made a joke. Deflect his love and anxiety over her. But not anymore. Today was the start of the new Cammie. The new, openly demonstrative, openly caring Cammie. Her past had damaged her. She’d been like Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, dragging her baggage behind her like a hump on her back. Jace had given her the chance to be whole again. To allow someone inside that wouldn’t continue the destruction but would, instead, assist in the repairs. As she’d done with Rick, it was time to let Jace know how she felt. To finally let the light in.