Close Up on Murder

by Linda Townsdin

  Knute slept in the grass, his old bones warming in the sun. Most likely not a great watchdog. I whistled for Rock and in a minute, he dashed through the trees. He never strayed too far. Surely, he’d bark if a stranger showed up.

  I sat on the porch swing outside my bedroom to let my hair dry in the evening air, punched in Ben’s number and settled against a cushion for a romantic chat. I still couldn’t believe my luck that we were back together again. He was the one true love of my life. I didn’t care how schmaltzy that sounded. It took me far too long to realize it and in the meantime, I kept trampling all over his feelings and causing misery for both of us. For a thirty-four-year-old professional woman with a lifetime of experience in the way humans behaved toward each other, I was unaccountably clueless when it came to my own personal life.

  Ben sounded grim. “Lars called me. You should not mess around with the World Church. Those people are ruthless.”

  So much for romance. “Lars is such a tattle-tale. I can’t trust him with anything.” My feet pushed the porch swing back and forth.

  “He wanted me to talk some sense into you, but everyone knows my record in that regard.”

  The swing banged against my calves when I stood. “Do you want to lecture me or do you want to hear about why I did it and what I found?” I left the porch and Rock trailed me to the lake’s edge.

  Ben’s voice calmed. “Sorry. It’s frustrating to be so far away and find out Little and Lars are in the sights of a nutcase or some fringe crazies. Tell me why you’re looking at Matthew Willard.”

  Everyone valued Ben’s opinion. Smart, deliberate and wise, he rarely spoke unless he had something useful to say, unlike me, who never had a thought I didn’t blurt out the second it hit my consciousness. Spontaneous would be a kind way to describe my actions. I was more intuitive than smart and more determined than wise. We were made for each other. I filled him in but left out the part about nearly getting my head blown off.

  “He’s the only person who showed up when I did a search on hate crimes in the county. Matthew left prison a month before Charley’s murder. It seemed worth checking out. Maybe he heard the rumor about Charley being gay when he was in town collecting junk. It’s not a secret about Little and Lars.”

  “Talk to Wilcox about this, let him contact the Iona police to see what’s going on.”

  “You know Wilcox won’t listen to me, especially now that I’m not working for the StarTrib.”

  Ben didn’t reply to that because it was true. I said, “Matthew and his dad do salvage work all over the county. Charley has several rusted out heaps of iron behind his house that look like giant insects. Maybe Charley contacted them to pick it up, they’d heard the gay rumor and saw an opportunity.”

  “You’re talking about an old combine and maybe some tractor parts. It’s still a stretch that they would do anything that violent.”

  “I’m so worried about Little and Lars. You do realize the same message was on the restaurant window as the one on Charley’s wall.”

  “I did. ‘You Will All Die.’ His voice deepened. “Britt, stay away from those people. I’ll talk to Wilcox.”

  “I don’t want to go near that place again. They mentioned a Fourth of July disturbance in Iona but I didn’t hear details. You might want to tell Wilcox about that, too.”

  “I’ll tell him, but it doesn’t sound like you found anything that connects them to Charley’s death or to what’s happened at Little’s unless you’re thinking that because they talked about vandalism, that ties to the hate message at Charley’s.”

  When he put it like that, it sounded thin even to me. “How’s your project going?”

  “I should be back home in a couple of days.”

  The ‘should’ didn’t sound promising. “That’s great. I really miss you, Ben.”

  “It sounds like you’re wasting no time missing me with that Swedish tourist to keep you company.”

  He teased, but I didn’t want to strain our relationship now that it was going so well. “He’s from Norway and he’s part of that writer’s retreat group that hangs out at Little’s.”

  “I know. The event is being held at my resort this year.”

  My voice low and sexy, I said, “It’s you I want, Ben. Hurry home.”

  “I’m hurrying.”

  ***

  I ate the last piece of chocolate meringue pie as the guys went about their closing-up routine. Little sat at the opposite end of the counter, making his meal plan list for the following day. He called to Lars. “Tomorrow’s the Fourth. How’s the float coming along?”

  Lars wiped down the counter. “Chloe and the kids finished it. All ready to go.”

  Little grumped. “I’m not even excited about it this year with everything that’s happened.”

  As I licked the last sweet morsel of pie from my lips, Lars picked up my plate and wiped the counter in front of me. I snatched the towel from him. “I can do it.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” He set the plate in a bin.

  “How come you ratted me out to Ben about the World Church people?”

  He looked at the ceiling. “He asked about you.”

  I stood up from my stool and stretched. “I’m taking off. Be sure to double-check all the locks tonight.”

  I waved at the patrol car sitting in front of the restaurant and headed home to bed.

  After tossing and turning for hours, I gave up on sleep and jumped back in my car and cruised over to Little’s. I pulled into the driveway next to the deputy on duty, recognizing him from the sheriff’s office. “Hi, Jerry, how are the kids?” A few years older than me, he had three young boys and coached hockey.

  Jerry rubbed his eyes and yawned. “The boys are a handful as usual. What are you doing here? It’s two a.m.”

  “I just came by to say hello.”

  He frowned. “You’re checking up on me. Go on back home.” He squinted at my passenger seat. “Are you carrying a weapon?”

  “That’s my camera.” A camera was my weapon. It had brought down murderers, rapists, fraudsters and tyrants. “C’mon, Jerry. I can’t sleep worrying about the guys. Let me just sit there for a while.”

  “You’ve got me over a barrel. If I tell Wilcox you’re here, he’ll be pissed as hell for waking him.” He considered for a moment. “If anything happens, stay in your car.”

  I nodded and pulled over to the bistro side.

  At five a.m., the lights came on in the residence. Time to begin their work day. I waved goodbye to Jerry.

  Chapter 7

  The weather didn’t cooperate on the Fourth of July either. But even with an overcast sky and a murderer in our midst, life went on. Businesses shut down during the parade, tourists lined the streets and children chased treats tossed from the floats.

  Jerry stayed at the restaurant to protect it from vandals. He said Wilcox believed Little would be safe riding with Lars in the parade.

  I tried to talk my brother out of going. “You’ll be too exposed.”

  The groove between Little’s brows deepened. “I always ride in the car with Lars. People expect to see me.” The staff had been working after hours building their best-ever float for the annual parade. And it was true, the crowd always cheered loudest for my brother.

  I found a good vantage point on the post office steps and photographed the Shriners weaving in and out in their miniature cars, the skittish horses, high school bands, balloons and hoopla, alert to anyone or anything out of place.

  The same uncomfortable feeling that someone watched me put me on edge. I scanned the crowd. Anke, the woman from the writers’ group was across the street with her eyes on me, more insolent than furtive. She stood slightly apart from the crowd, smoking, with the same dour expression I’d noticed at Little’s. If I hadn’t needed to keep the guys in sight, I’d have confronted her right then.

  A few people threw irritated looks at her. No one liked smokers. Her eyes slid away and back to the high school marching band maki
ng its noisy way up the street. The two students, one wispy female and dark-haired male stood nearby with their workshop leader.

  When the Little’s Café float rounded the bend and started up Main Street, I pushed past the tourists and loped to meet it. I continued to take photos, but my real purpose was to keep an eye on my brother.

  This year the theme included a round table with a yellow bistro umbrella. Lars pulled the float behind his SUV. Little waved from the passenger seat. Staff dressed as tourists sat at the table sipping wine. I moved to the back, shooting. Chloe, her dark hair free of its ponytail, and wearing a red, white and blue swimsuit with a tiny apron, waved and tossed candies. Kids flew at the treats from all directions. A photo from this year would hang in the restaurant alongside the ones from the last two years.

  My peripheral vision caught a stranger in a straw cowboy hat staggering up to Little’s window. He grabbed Little’s shirt. I jumped on him in an instant, yanking him away from the SUV. He slipped from my grasp and fell backward on the ground with a thud. Everyone gasped. Lars stopped the float and he and Little jumped out, yelling at me. “What are you doing?”

  Lars helped the guy up and brushed him off. “Sorry, Louie, are you okay?”

  Louie blinked. “What the hell just happened?” He straightened his hat and wobbled down the street.

  His face purple, Little’s loud whisper blasted my ear. “He’s obviously had too much to drink. What’s the matter with you?”

  I stammered, “I’m sorry. I’d never seen him before. His actions looked aggressive.”

  Little spoke through clenched teeth. “He wanted to tell me how much he loves my peach pie.”

  Lars told the crowd everything was okay, they got back in and the SUV continued up the street. I slunk back into the crowd but kept up with the float from a distance until the parade ended and Little was back in the restaurant. I wouldn’t hear the end of that for a while, but looking foolish was a small price to pay for keeping my brother safe.

  To avoid the hordes of tourists that overtook the town after the parade, I headed to Branson to have lunch with Thor and my former StarTribune co-workers.

  We met at Luigi’s Pizza, a Branson institution for thirty years. Waiters wound through tables delivering beer and pizza to noisy students, locals and tourists. Cynthia and I talked newspapers and Jason watched the door until Thor showed up. Her dimpled baby face radiated wholesomeness beneath the oversized ball cap. Thor hardly acknowledged Jason when she slid into the booth next to him. His expectant smile dimmed. Maybe she meant it about going back to school this time.

  Jason, Cynthia and I ordered a pizza to share, loaded with everything. Thor ordered a personal-sized one for herself. Her specifications hadn’t changed since the last time I’d been with her at Luigi’s. “No cheese, veggies only, heavy on the spinach, and a Hef.” We all stared at her. Her cornflower blue eyes popped open. “What? Who has pizza without beer?”

  We caught up on what everyone had been doing in the three months since I’d left the bureau. The waiter brought Thor’s Hefeweisen and the pizzas came shortly after.

  I asked Thor, “How’s Wilcox doing on finding Charley’s family?”

  She sipped her beer. “No luck so far, but he’s been following up on a business card we found in Charley’s jeans at the scene.” She looked sick for a moment but composed herself. “And he’s checking calls from the same St. Louis number that’s on the card.”

  I leaned in. “Whose card?”

  Her fingers flew to her mouth. “I did it again. I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”

  I almost grabbed her arm. “What did the St. Louis person want with Charley?”

  Her teeth clamped down on a slice of pizza.

  I remembered watching Charley pick up that business card and tell me he had to cancel our coffee because something had come up. And that was the last anyone had seen him alive. I’d work on Thor later. Reaching in for a slice, I told the group I’d stirred up a World Church of the Creator offshoot in Iona and why.

  Cynthia said, “I can ask the Iona Weekly editor to keep an eye on them, although I’m sure they already do.”

  Jason took his eyes off Thor for a minute. “You want me to do some research, see what I can find?”

  “Thanks guys, it would be a huge help.” I enjoyed watching the way the couple glanced at each other out of the sides of their eyes. Jason in navy polo and khaki shorts and Thor in her American flag t-shirt seemed mismatched, but opposites do attract. Although, Thor wasn’t smiling at him today.

  I missed the camaraderie of this trio. An inner voice nagged that I’d made a mistake in quitting the bureau to jump back into the fast-paced and competitive L.A. Times, but I dismissed it. You have to give up something to get something else.

  Back in Spirit Lake, I passed the packed Little’s and drove home. Rock and Knute barked from the porch at an older pickup idling in my driveway. It took me a second to place it. My instinct was to back out of the drive and call Wilcox but curiosity got the better of me.

  Rock ran to my car as I pulled up next to the truck. Matthew Willard sat in the driver’s seat. Ready to stomp on the accelerator if necessary, I leaned across my passenger side. “What can I do for you?”

  His eyes flicked at me and back down at his steering wheel. “I came by to talk but I don’t have much time. I’m supposed to be collecting junk.”

  The kid didn’t look scary to me. “Sure, let’s sit on the dock.” We got out of our vehicles and I pointed to my dock, waiting for him to go first. If he messed with me, I’d throw his scrawny body into the lake.

  My dock widens into a T at the end. I’d bought a table and chairs set in anticipation of sitting there with Ben, watching the sunset. Wondering if we’d be together soon, I let the wistful image go and followed Matthew. I pulled out one of the chairs at the teak table. “Have a seat.”

  A fisherman in the cove next to my place cast his line. I waved, hoping he’d stay and fish until Matthew left. He waved back and I saw it was Neil, the creepy guy from the writers’ group. The last thing I wanted was his attention.

  Matthew wore the same type clothes I’d seen him in before. Dusty jeans, plain t-shirt, work boots, buzz-cut hair. “How did you know where I live, Matthew?”

  He darted a look at me. “After you were at our place, my Dad got on the computer, and made a couple of calls. He can always find out stuff.”

  “He sent you?”

  His head snapped up. “Uh, no, he told me to keep away from you.”

  “And yet here you are. What’s on your mind?”

  He looked troubled. “I’m here because I didn’t think it was right that they were trying to scare you yesterday.”

  I could feel my eyebrow shooting up. “You’re not part of the anti-gay faction of the World Church of the Creator?”

  “I don’t want to be.”

  “But you did those things that got you sent away.”

  “Yes, but that was before. In prison, they had me talk to therapists and social workers and I got that what I did was wrong.”

  This didn’t sound like the Matthew who had a gun pointed at my head the other day, but maybe he’d been putting on a show for his parents. “What makes your folks so hate-filled?”

  He shrugged. “They’ve always bashed the government and minorities. They didn’t single out gays until they found out about my brother.” He bit his lip.

  Did he mean to say that? “Your mother said he left home and hasn’t been back.”

  “Trevor ran off about three years ago.”

  He faced the water so I couldn’t look in his eyes. “What did you think about your brother?”

  “I always looked up to him but I wanted to be a tough guy like my dad. I wanted my mom to respect me. They both said the devil had hold of Trevor.”

  My voice measured, I asked, “Did your group kill Charley?”

  He shook his head. “We didn’t even know about him until we saw it on the news.”

  I
stood over him, louder now. “Did you write the message on my brother’s restaurant?”

  His head tilted. “Huh? I don’t know who your brother is or what restaurant you’re talking about.”

  My hand gripped the back of his chair. It would be so easy to tip him into the water, but I didn’t. Instead, I leaned close to his ear. “It’s not something they talked about in your meetings?”

  He checked his watch. “I gotta get back.” His neck craned to scan the yard. “You got anything around here I could toss in the truck so the old man doesn’t give me a bad time for slacking off?”

  I toned down my rising anger. “I have a small pile behind the cabin.”

  He didn’t need help tossing the rusted hand-mower, broken toaster oven and a few other items into his truck. The kid was stronger than he looked, wiry.

  “Would you do me a favor, Matthew? If you hear the group talking about coming to Spirit Lake to do anything, please let me know.”

  “I can do that.”

  In case he was being sincere, I said, “And you need to figure out how to get away from your family and that group. I know it won’t be easy, but you’re a man now, and you ought to go your own way.”

  “I know I do.” He got in his truck.

  “If you want to talk to anyone, you can call me.” I gave him my number and asked for his. He hesitated, but I waited him out until he told me. I tapped his cell number into my contacts, then focused the phone’s camera on him. “Okay if I take your picture?”

  “I guess so.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  His ordinary face framed by the truck window, Matthew turned to the camera, and grinned. I clicked and stepped back a few paces.

  He pulled away, and I sat down hard on the porch steps. People will show themselves to a camera every time. His gaze had been everywhere but on me as we were talking, but he’d looked directly into the camera for his photo. I studied the close-up.

  Matthew’s grin revealed a mouth full of too many teeth jammed against each other every which way, long eyeteeth grazing his lower lip, tobacco stains in the crevices. The look in his eyes reflected pure meanness.