Come Homicide or High Water

by Denise Swanson

  “They really have no choice.” Dante’s grating cackle brought Wally back to the matter at hand. “Settle or—”

  “Or you’ll do away with the department, hire rent-a-cops from the county sheriff, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Wally hung on to his temper by a thread. “Your threats have already been duly noted.”

  The twins had been fussy all night and their bad mood had continued that morning. It had taken both Wally and Skye’s best efforts to get them fed, changed, and soothed, making him late getting to work.

  He couldn’t wait for the house to be finished and Dorothy to move into the garage apartment. It would be such a relief to have some room to spread out and to have a helping hand when they were overwhelmed with the babies’ needs.

  “If I don’t hear from you by one o’clock, I’m telling the city council you declined their offer and contacting the Stanley County sheriff.” Dante paused, then singsonged a warning. “And you do not want me talking to the sheriff. He’d love to get his hands on Scumble River.”

  “Make it two,” Wally countered, running his fingers through his hair and noting how long it had gotten. He liked to keep it above his collar. Maybe he could swing by Great Expectations Salon after work for a trim. He’d have to give Vince a call to see if he had an opening. “I promise to have an answer for you by then.”

  Disconnecting the line, Wally stared at the stack of reports that he needed to study. They contained the summaries of what Martinez had viewed on the dollar store and supermarket security recordings.

  But now, before he buckled down to read her findings, he had to ask Thea to get ahold of all the full- and part-time officers about the contract meeting. He’d hold it at eleven and provide lunch.

  After making his call to Thea and giving her his instructions, he added, “When you’re done contacting the officers, call County and request a deputy be assigned to our area between eleven and one. Tell them that all our people will be tied up in a meeting and not on the streets patrolling.”

  Once he finished with Thea, Wally glanced around his office. Skye had suggested making it more comfortable and he admitted that the space was utilitarian, but that was how he liked it. The large metal desk, two serviceable chairs for visitors, and a couple of file cabinets were all he needed.

  His space was practical, with nothing to distract his thinking. The only personal items in the room were his wedding picture and a photograph of the twins the day they were baptized.

  Wally reached for the matching silver frames and studied his beautiful family. He still couldn’t believe that Skye was really his wife or that they had so easily had two precious children.

  Their first anniversary was coming up in a little over a month, but the memory of standing next to her in her gorgeous dress at the church altar was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. At that moment, as they’d exchanged their vows, he’d realized how lucky he was to have gotten a second chance to marry the love of his life.

  Then, after so many years thinking that he’d never be a father, the twins were born and he finally had the family of his dreams. He was almost afraid of how happy he felt and he said a prayer every day thanking God for giving him what he’d always wanted.

  Once he’d put down the pictures and angled them so that he would see the beautiful faces of his wife and children every time he glanced up from his work, Wally took a gulp of tepid coffee. When he’d arrived at work, he’d poured himself a mug from the communal pot downstairs, but that was over forty-five minutes ago.

  If things hadn’t been so chaotic at home, he would have stopped at Tales and Treats for a decent cup of java in one of their special to-go cups that kept the liquid piping hot for hours. Still, the police station’s bitter, lukewarm brew was better than nothing, and after a restless night he needed the hit of caffeine.

  Giving in to his fatigue, Wally closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his chair. Last night at Loretta and Vince’s house had been interesting. Mrs. Winters’s presence had certainly been a surprise. And for a bad moment, he’d thought Skye was about to blow her top at the perceived nanny poaching. It would have been a shame if her anger and hurt feelings had ended the years of friendship between her and her sister-in-law. He’d been relieved that Skye and Loretta had held onto their tempers and worked things out.

  Then there’d been Loretta’s impression of Jerita Quinn. Up until she had revealed that she thought Jerita had been fleeing Chicago to protect her daughter from a specific threat, Wally had had three top suspects in the murder. Now, he had to reconsider.

  Earl Doozier continued to be a person of interest, and Beilin Quinn couldn’t be ruled out, but they had both moved down the list. As crazy as Earl’s description of the events had been, they made a kind of sense. At least for a Doozier. And unless Beilin’s reaction to the news of his wife’s death was Academy Award–winning acting, it was hard to believe he’d killed her.

  Then there was Homer. While the devious principal could still be the perp, he wasn’t the number one suspect anymore. Nevertheless, Homer had a lot of explaining to do before he was free from suspicion.

  Wally had thought he had a good handle on Jerita’s murder—at least some solid leads. But now there was this mysterious menace that had caused the Quinns to uproot themselves, to move from the city to a little town in the middle of nowhere. And if this danger was so serious, why hadn’t Beilin mentioned it when he’d been questioned right after Jerita’s body was found?

  Sighing, Wally made a note to re-interview the contractor that afternoon. His conscience gave a bit of a twinge. Was he putting off talking to Beilin because he had a busy morning or was it to give the man a chance to work longer on Wally and Skye’s new house?

  No. He shook his head. He didn’t have an ulterior motive. Reviewing Martinez’s notes on the security recordings, contacting the crime lab about Homer’s DNA, and holding the contract meeting were the priorities for the morning.

  Finally settling in to get some work done, Wally grabbed a yellow highlighter, flipped open the file containing Martinez’s reports, and started reading. He’d just finished studying the officer’s notes on the supermarket’s recordings when a sharp ring interrupted him.

  He snatched the receiver from its cradle and his greeting was a terse “Yes?”

  “Chief?” The tone was brisk.

  He immediately recognized the feminine voice and said, “Yeah. What’s up, Dr. Norris?”

  “I’ll email you the final report later this afternoon, but I figured you’d want to know this sooner rather than wait for the official paperwork.”

  When the old medical examiner had retired a few months ago, Wally had been a little afraid that the person replacing the ME wouldn’t be as good. However, although Wally hadn’t met the new pathologist in person, they’d exchanged several phone calls and handled one successful closed case together already, allowing him to feel comfortable with the woman’s competence.

  “I appreciate that.” Wally grabbed a pen, flipped to a clean page on his legal pad, and said, “What do you have for me?”

  “The DNA results you requested from the crime lab were forwarded to me to include with my report.” Dr. Norris’s voice was somewhat bemused. “I’m not sure why they didn’t send them to you directly, but I have to say that I’m impressed with the rapid turnaround.”

  “I am too. I was told it would take twenty-four to seventy-two hours and it’s only been maybe eighteen. Not that I’m unhappy to have them early.” Wally wouldn’t look a gift lab result in the mouth.

  Dr. Norris rustled some paper, cleared her throat, and announced, “The DNA on the pumpkin seed hulls found at the crime scene matches the DNA on the candy wrapper and pudding cup lid provided.”

  “Thanks.” Wally had expected those results, but now that they were confirmed, he’d bring Homer in for questioning that afternoon. He’d schedule the principal’s interrogation
right after Beilin Quinn’s. “That’s very helpful.”

  “No problem,” Dr. Norris said, then added, “And I’ll let the crime lab know that in the future they can send you their results directly. I’m guessing the previous ME had control issues and ordered the lab to funnel all information through him.”

  “So it would seem.” Wally had just thought that was the generally accepted protocol. Now he felt like a fool for not questioning it all those years. “Thanks for the call. Keep me in the loop.”

  After saying goodbye to Dr. Norris, Wally went back to the reports from Martinez. The young officer had diligently scanned and summarized hours of security recordings from the supermarket and the dollar store. Wally had instructed her to concentrate on the twenty-four-hour period from 10:00 p.m. the evening before Edie was reported missing to 10:00 p.m. the day of her disappearance because even when the dollar store and supermarket were closed, they both had security cameras aimed at the parking lots.

  Although Martinez had painstakingly detailed the comings and goings at the supermarket, there wasn’t anything Wally could see that suggested Edie Baker had been at the place since she’d gone missing. Only a few cars had entered the lot after closing, and those never stopped.

  Wally figured it was just teenagers who were buzzing the gut, a.k.a. riding up and down Maryland and Basin Streets. The kids used the McDonald’s on one end of town and the grocery at the other to turn around and repeat the route.

  Pushing the supermarket pages aside, Wally ran his finger down the list for the dollar store. Again, nothing during the night, but Martinez had found a possibility the morning Mrs. Baker had been reported missing.

  The young officer had attached a still shot of a woman about Edie’s age wearing jeans and a blue sweater. She was turned away from the camera and only a quarter of her face was visible. The time stamp showed 7:02 a.m., just a couple minutes after the store opened for business that day.

  Wally rubbed his jaw. He’d have to get Anthony to check with the dollar store to see if a golf cart had been abandoned anywhere nearby. No one in Bord du Lac had reported a stolen cart, but there were always residents who weren’t home and didn’t return the police’s telephone calls.

  Once Anthony was finished at the dollar store, he could run the picture out to Gerald Baker to see if the man could identify the woman in the shot. Dealing with a guy like Baker could be tough, but it would be good for the young officer to get some experience handling difficult witnesses.

  After Wally had Thea radio Anthony to come in from patrol, he studied the security camera image of the possible Mrs. Baker. There was another woman in the shot, and as he looked closer, it appeared as if Edie was greeting her. Her hand was stretched toward the other woman and her body was leaning in her direction.

  Most of that woman’s image was obscured, but a sliver of her face was discernable. Half closing his eyes, Wally tried to figure out why she seemed familiar. He could swear he knew her. He’d have to have Anthony ask Gerald Baker and the employees of the dollar store if they recognized her. If that didn’t come up with any results, he’d have his officers take a look during the contract meeting. And if all else failed, he’d ask Skye. She knew nearly everyone in town.

  Giving up his own effort to identify the woman, Wally turned his attention to the murder. Earl’s fingerprints had been emailed to the crime lab yesterday afternoon, but they hadn’t responded yet and since Dr. Norris hadn’t mentioned them, he assumed the results hadn’t been forwarded to her either.

  The murder weapon was wiped clean so Wally didn’t expect the Doozier’s prints to reveal much. But they might be able to document Earl’s path at the crime scene and thus support his story.

  It was frustrating that his key suspect, or witness— Wally wasn’t sure which label to give Earl yet—was a man who was about as honest as a political ad. Getting Earl to tell the truth was like trying to fill a swimming pool with a slotted spoon.

  Wally was about to call the crime lab and ask about Earl’s prints when Anthony knocked on the partially open office door. Motioning the young officer inside, Wally gave him his instructions, handed him the security camera still shot, and told him to be back at the station by eleven.

  Once Anthony left, Wally dialed the lab. As soon as they picked up, he identified himself and asked, “Did you have any hits on the Earl Doozier fingerprint we sent over to you yesterday?”

  “Yeah, we did, Chief,” the tech answered. “I was just about to send them to you. Dr. Norris said that from now on you were to get our results directly.”

  “Good.”

  “Anyway, Earl Doozier’s prints were found on the front door knocker, the back doorknob, the fence around the playhouse, and all over the shed.”

  “Nowhere inside the residence or between the fence and the playhouse?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.” Wally sighed. “Thanks.”

  Next Wally contacted Homer and Beilin. The contractor quickly promised to be at the station by two, but the principal was less cooperative. Only after Wally threatened to go to the high school and lead Homer out in handcuffs did he agree to be at the PD by three thirty.

  Wally quickly sent Skye a text to bring her up to speed and warn her that Homer was on the warpath. She wasn’t scheduled to go to the school that day, but just in case there was some kind of emergency that she got called in to handle, he wanted her to know to avoid the principal.

  Glancing at his watch, Wally texted Tales and Treats the sandwich order for the meeting, then let Thea know he was leaving the station for a bit. He’d head to the supermarket to buy the chips and soft drinks, then pick up the food at the combination bookstore and café on the way back.

  An hour later, Wally had the sandwich trays and bowls of chips on the break room counter and was placing the drinks in the fridge when his officers started trickling through the door. They all grabbed a plate of food and a can of soda, then settled into chairs around the long table that ran down the center of the room.

  Wally counted heads and said, “We’ll give Anthony a chance to get back from Bord du Lac before we get started. In the meantime, there are copies of a security camera still shot on the table. Please take a look and let me know if you can identify either woman.”

  While the others studied the picture, Wally walked over to Martinez, patted her on the shoulder, and said, “Good job on finding that image.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Martinez smiled, her cheeks coloring. She quickly added, “And thank you for the opportunity to work on the missing person case.”

  Wally patted her shoulder again, then looked at the others and asked, “Anyone recognize either of the subjects in the photo?”

  Everyone shook their heads and Quirk said, “I’m assuming you think that Blue Sweater might be Edie Baker, but there’s not enough visible of the other woman to hazard a guess.”

  Anthony had walked into the break room just as Quirk was speaking and quickly said, “No need to guess.” Beaming, he turned to Wally and asked, “Would you like a verbal report or do you want me to write it up?”

  “Both.” Wally stared at the young officer.

  “Yes, sir.” Anthony stood at attention and summarized, “No one at the dollar store could identify the women in the still shot, but an abandoned golf cart was found in their parking lot the day Mrs. Baker disappeared. There was an identification card attached to the steering column and the cart was dropped off at that address by one of the clerks who lives in Bord du Lac.”

  “And this clerk never thought to notify the police?” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “Even after Mrs. Baker went missing?”

  “She went on vacation the next day, and by the time she returned, she didn’t hear about the missing woman.” Anthony shrugged. “Apparently after a week, Mrs. Baker’s disappearance was old news.”

  “Right.” Wally gestured to the young officer and
said, “Go on.”

  “Mr. Baker is sure that the woman in the blue sweater is his wife.” Anthony paused, then said, “And he thinks the other woman might be Pru Cormorant.” When Wally didn’t respond, Anthony added, “The English teacher at the high school.”

  “Right.” Wally grabbed a picture and studied it. “How does Baker know her?”

  “He claims that she’s always hanging around him and his wife when they go to the VFW or the American Legion.” Anthony grinned. “Mr. Baker is convinced that Ms. Cormorant has a crush on him.”

  “Interesting.” Wally tucked that info away and said, “Okay. Now that the women in the photo have been tentatively identified, let’s get started on the contract offer.”

  As he explained the mayor’s proposal, including the K-9 officer that Martinez verified she’d had training on how to handle, Wally mulled over what Anthony had found out. Could Pru Cormorant have done something to get rid of Edie Baker so that she could date the woman’s husband?

  Chapter 19

  Can’t Find My Way Home

  Skye woke with a start and gazed groggily at the laptop in front of her. She was seated at the RV’s tiny kitchen table with her head resting on her arms. After being up and down all night with the twins—she’d just get Eva to sleep and CJ would start crying—she must have dozed off when she sat down to review the psych reports that Piper had completed the past couple of weeks.

  Before sitting down, Skye had phoned the twins’ pediatrician, Dr. Fellows. She’d been concerned that the babies’ restlessness was due to her recent attempt to wean them off breast milk and onto formula, which she was trying to accomplish prior to returning to work full-time.

  Dr. Fellows had asked several questions, then assured Skye that the babies’ sleep patterns were still developing. The pediatrician had said that the twins should sleep fifteen or sixteen hours a day, but those hours might be sporadic. She’d also mentioned that one advantage of them transitioning completely to formula was that they would probably sleep longer stretches of time during the night.