Roadside Homicide: A Modern Country Cozy Mystery in a Small Town

by Nancy Basile

  “What?” Jodi’s eyes were round, and her skin’s pink glow had vanished. She looked terrified. Jenn must be right; she must have been having an affair with Roy.

  “Early this morning, I was on my way home, the back way.” Robin pressed her hands into her legs, trying to keep her jitters to a minimum. “Roy stumbled into the road. He was bleeding.”

  “Oh, my God.” Jodi covered her mouth with her hand. Her wedding ring glinted in the sunlight streaming in the window.

  “Someone shot him. I did everything I could to save him, but it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

  Jodi froze in her chair. She didn’t gasp or cry out. She didn’t even blink. Shock takes people in many ways, but Jodi was freaking her out. “Jodi, are you okay? Say something.” Jodi’s eyes fixed on Robin’s. “I’m going to get you some water.”

  Robin wound her way through the furniture and the knick-knacks to the kitchen. She swiped a clean glass from the draining tray and filled it from the tap. When she brought the drink back to Jodi, she still hadn’t moved. “Here, drink this. If this were the 1800s, I’d offer you brandy. But, I don’t know where to find any.” She was babbling, trying to fill the silence humming in her ears.

  Jodi took the glass and drank a sip, like a mannequin coming to life. She rested back in her chair again, uncrossing her legs and looking down at her hands holding the glass.

  “The thing is,” Robin began again, “just before he died, he said something.” Jodi didn’t look at her or say anything, but nodded her head ever so slightly, so Robin continued. “He said, ‘Jo Jo. Sorry.’” She ducked her head, trying to catch Jodi’s attention. “I think he wanted to say sorry to you, for some reason.”

  Jodi began to cry. Two big, round tears fell from each of her eyes, leaving glistening trails on her lovely face.

  “Is Bruce here?” Robin sat on the coffee table in front of Jodi, in case she passed out or something. She placed her hand on Jodi’s knee. “Should I call him?”

  “No!” Jodi lifted her eyes to stare at Robin. Robin started and yanked her hand back. Jodi inhaled deeply. “I mean, no, thank you. This isn’t about Bruce. He doesn’t need to know.”

  “He’s going to find out about Roy’s death eventually. I’m sure it’ll be on the news.”

  “I know. I just meant, he doesn’t need to know right now. From you. Or me.” Jodi wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingers. “Who did it?”

  “I don’t know. Chris Payne, the sheriff, is looking into it, but as far as I know, they don’t have any leads.”

  Jodi’s hands shook so hard the water sloshed over the side of her glass. Robin grabbed it before she dropped it, putting it down on the table. “They don’t know who did it? Whoever shot Roy is out there, running around free?” Jodi’s voice grew louder and angrier as she continued talking. She stood up. “Didn’t you see anybody?”

  Robin also stood up and backed away a step. “No, I was too late. I didn’t see anyone. If I had, trust me, I would have told Chris.”

  Jodi’s eyes became unfocused, like she was seeing something in her mind’s eye. “He didn’t deserve this.” Then her attention snapped back to Robin. “You have to go. You have to leave, right now.”

  “Okay, I will, but… Jodi, are you going to be okay?” Robin started toward the front door. She did not know what set Jodi off, but she was clearly upset. “I don’t want to leave you here alone like this. I know we haven’t been close friends in a long time, but I’m here for you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Jodi walked past Robin to open the front door. She waved Robin through the door. “I’ll be fine as soon as you leave. Just go.”

  “Okay.” On the front step, Robin turned, searching for something to say to make up for causing Jodi such distress. “I’m so sorry. Really, I am.”

  “I’m sure you are. You were a good friend when we were kids.”

  “I thought telling you that Roy was sorry would be a good thing, but maybe not. What can I do to make it right?”

  “You know what you can do?” Jodi stepped back into her house. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me or talked to me. Forget you were ever here.” Jodi shut the door, and Robin heard the lock turn and click.

  Chapter 8

  As Robin wound her way down the hill, she examined every moment of her conversation with Jodi. Her reaction had been confusing. If Jodi and Roy were lovers, Robin could understand her crying, and even her desire to get Robin out of the house before Bruce came home. But what did Jodi mean when she said he didn’t deserve this? Did Jodi know more about Roy’s murder than she was letting on?

  The other fact tickling Robin’s brain was that Roy had disappeared for years and no one knew where he’d been. For all anyone in River Sutton knew, he was involved in organized crime or a drug cartel. Maybe he came home to hide out from whoever was after him. It was far-fetched, but it would explain his murder. It would also explain why he had so much cash to throw around.

  Robin needed more information on Roy and his strange disappearance. She also wanted to know more about Jodi and Bruce. When did they get married? If they married recently, maybe Roy came home to stop the wedding, but it was too late. Jodi didn’t seem like the type of woman who would cheat on her husband, but what did Robin know? Maybe Bruce wasn’t the husband Jodi thought he’d be. Or maybe Roy added a sense of danger to her otherwise ho-hum life. Although, again, Robin couldn’t see Jodi kicking Bruce to the curb for Roy. She liked Jodi; she hoped there was a perfectly innocent reason behind her skittishness over Roy. But something was going on, and none of it made sense.

  Robin stopped at the intersection where a right turn took her home. No one pulled up behind her, so she waited a moment to think. How could she find out more about Roy, Bruce, and Jodi? She needed to get on the internet, but trying to use her phone to access public records was a waste of time. The cell service in River Sutton was notoriously dreadful, thanks to the hills and lack of cell towers. She could use her parents’ Wi-Fi, but it wasn’t much better, because they depended on a satellite.

  The library, however, used a fiber optic cable connection, which was several times faster than any residential speed. Winner winner, chicken dinner.

  Pulling up to the River Sutton Library, Robin smiled as if she was greeting an old friend. She had spent countless hours in this library, for story time and to take out picture books, then as a teenager, to do research for term papers.

  She grabbed her bag and headed for the front door. Although the library was small, it was a stately brick building, with tall, white columns supporting the front portico, and large picture windows on either side.

  Cool air whooshed over her as she opened the heavy front door. The scent of aging paper, cardboard, ink pads, and polished wood greeted her. The tension in her shoulders immediately disappeared. This was her domain. Professor Robin was in the building.

  She smiled warmly at the librarian on duty, a woman about her mother’s age, with soft, white hair clipped short, and half-moon glasses on a chain of sparkling beads. “Hi, I’d like to use one of the computer stations.”

  “Do you have a library card?” The librarian eyed her over her glasses, which were perched close to the end of her nose.

  “I do.” Robin fished her old library card out of her wallet. She’d never had the heart to throw it out, and now she patted herself on the back for her sentimentality.

  The librarian swiped it through a card reader and raised her nose in the air to see the screen through her bifocals. “Robin Pearce?” Robin nodded. “My, you haven’t been here in years.”

  “No, I haven’t. I moved to Cleveland.”

  Madame Librarian shot her a frowny face. “Why haven’t you updated your contact information?”

  Robin’s face tingled and heat touched her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

  But a tiny smile replaced Madame Librarian’s frown. “That’s all right. We can do it now. But in the future, if you move again, please let us know.”

  “I doubt I�
��ll be moving any time soon.”

  “Oh?” The librarian cocked her head. “You never know. You’re young. You’ll want to move back to River Sutton at some point, I’m betting.” She handed back Robin’s card. “Trust me, dear, the older you get, the more you realize how important it is to be close to family.” Then she winked at Robin.

  The library was nearly empty, which meant she had her pick of computer stations. She chose one in the back row, away from any lookie loos who might chat with her or peek at her monitor. Small-town people were like that, all up in everybody’s biz.

  Robin started with a basic search in Google on “‘Roy Cooter’ River Sutton West Virginia.” She scrolled past ads promising juicy details about Roy, like arrest records and paternity suits, and found an obituary for his mother, Gail. She opened it in a new browser tab. There wasn’t much information about her life or death. His mother died of a heart attack about a year ago, and she was survived by her son, Roy.

  She closed that tab and went back to her search and clicked over to the second page of search results. There was a link to an old forum thread with the subject, “Has anyone seen Roy Cooter?” She opened that link in a new tab and read the messages in the thread.

  Has anyone seen Roy Cooter? Graduation is only a month away and he hasn’t been in school. I called his house and his mom said he took off south to find a job. Seems weird to leave before getting your diploma. - steelersfan78

  I heard the same thing. I think he went to North Carolina. There’s a lot of new construction there. Easy to get a job. - ottersTE84

  Weird. He only had a month to go. We were going to do shots at his place after. I’ll have to find someone else to hang with. - steelersfan78

  I don’t know. I guess he wanted to strike while the iron’s hot? Probs don’t need a diploma for construction. - ottersTE84

  Shots at my house after! Everyone’s invited! - snoochie_boochies

  Robin didn’t remember Roy taking off before graduation, but she would have been so preoccupied with graduating and getting ready for college that she wouldn’t have noticed. She opened a new browser window and Googled “‘Roy Cooter’ ‘North Carolina.’” Google returned search results for obituaries, executive job announcements, and ads for an attorney with the same name, but none of them were helpful. She clicked through a few more pages of results, but came up with zilch.

  It was possible for Roy to have lived and worked in North Carolina without leaving a footprint. If he had moved in with a roommate without putting his name on a lease or a deed, there would be no record of his address. If he worked for a small company that didn’t update their website with their employees’ names, or if he got paid cash under the table, there would be no record of his employment.

  She closed that window and went back to her original one, bringing up a fresh Google search box. This time, she searched for “‘Jodi Jenkins’ ‘Bruce Clark.’” Several links popped up with the couple’s names, including their engagement and wedding announcements. She right-clicked on the wedding announcement and opened it in a new tab.

  A beautiful young couple smiled at her from the screen. Jodi was wearing a simple, white silk dress draped at the neckline, with spaghetti straps hanging over her extremely fit shoulders. Bruce, looking handsome and happy, wore a classic tuxedo. She scanned the announcement and found their wedding date was four years ago. That killed her theory that Roy had come home to stop their wedding, considering he only showed up two weeks ago.

  The announcement mentioned Bruce worked for Pughtown Pottery Manufacturing and that Jodi was a server at Pasture. She quickly scanned the rest of the announcement for more info on Bruce and Jodi, but the rest of the article described the wedding and reception.

  She clicked back to the search results and went to the second page. In the middle of links leading to pay-for-play information websites was a link to an article about Mark Jenkins, Jodi’s brother. “Guard Mark Jenkins Killed in Bank Robbery.”

  Oh, my heavens. Robin had completely forgotten about this horrible chapter in River Sutton’s recent history. She only had vague memories of the bank robbery, because she had been away at Marshall University when it happened. What she remembered of the heist was sketchy. Robin clicked the link and read the news story.

  Guard Mark Jenkins, 24, was shot and killed in the line of duty during the recent bank robbery at Rollins County Savings Bank, at the intersection of Rte. 2 and Rte. 8.

  A lone gunman, wearing a Spider-Man mask, entered the bank just before closing on the last Friday of December, ensuring that the vault would be full with deposits from local businesses.

  While a bank teller filled a large sack with money from the vault, Jenkins attempted to tackle the gunman from behind. However, the gunman must have heard Mark and turned and fired before the guard could reach him.

  River Sutton’s town council announced they will hold a memorial service at Riverside Park for Jenkins, where they will unveil a monument to his bravery.

  A photo of Mark in his guard uniform accompanied the article. He was as handsome as his sister was pretty, with friendly eyes and a warm smile.

  At the bottom of the article, she read:

  The FBI and local authorities are working together to apprehend the thief. If you have any information pertaining to the robbery, please call the anonymous tip line.

  Then it listed a toll-free phone number.

  Poor Jodi. She lost her brother so young, and in such a shocking way. And now she was tangled in Roy’s murder.

  Robin spent a few more minutes clicking through the search results, but couldn’t find anything worth noting. The only article with helpful information was dated a few years after the robbery, saying the FBI and the police had never caught the thief. He was still on the loose.

  Chapter 9

  Robin shut down the computer, grabbed her bag, and waved to Madame Librarian on her way out. The day’s heat had warmed the honeysuckle growing outside the library, sending its scent across the parking lot. The sun was setting, sending blazes of pink and orange across the sky. No doubt her mother was wondering where she was. No frantic texts lit up her phone, but crappy cell service might have robbed her of her texts.

  She was cruising toward home, admiring the sunlight glinting off the shallow, choppy waves of the river, when she noticed a little park, with some kind of monument, that she hadn’t noticed before.

  Robin parked in the memorial’s unpaved lot. The breeze off the river, only a few yards away, smelled of wet clay. The monument itself was a white marble obelisk, about eight feet high. It sparkled in the sun. Up close, she saw words etched into the stone, just above the plinth.

  We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies. - Emily Dickinson

  Underneath the inscription were the dates of Mark Jenkins’s birth then death, which was also the day of the robbery. He’d been only twenty-three.

  At the base of the obelisk, people had placed bouquets and a mishmash of items — Hot Wheels race cars, miniature football players in Steelers black and gold, and religious crosses. Mark Jenkins was missed.

  Robin’s eyes followed the river bank north, taking in the park’s gazebo and flower beds full of marigolds, when she spotted someone fishing. The person looked like Chris, in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Her heart stuttered. If it was Chris, she should tell him about her conversation with Jodi.

  She straightened her sun dress and curled her hair behind her ears, then trekked down the narrow dirt path to the river’s edge. Chris cast his line from a grassy knoll that dropped sharply to the river bank. His tackle box and other gear lay behind him in the thick grass.

  He spotted her before she made it all the way to him. Waving, he called, “Hey, Robin!” She waved back, attempting to look casual, although her heart sped up. She tacked carefully through the grass. Falling on a fishing hook would ruin the sexy, breezy look she was aiming for.

  “Catch anything?”

&nb
sp; “Couple of smallmouth bass. Threw them back. What brings you down here?” He turned his attention back to his bobber.

  She shielded her eyes from the light bouncing off the river. “I didn’t know this memorial was here, and I wanted to see it.”

  “Do you remember Mark Jenkins?” Chris reeled in his line, secured it, and started putting his tackle away. When he leaned over to pick up the box, she couldn’t help but stare at the width of his shoulders stretching his t-shirt.

  She waved away a horsefly. “No, I don’t remember him hardly at all, other than he was Jodi’s brother. Did you know him?”

  “Not much.” Chris stood up, shoving the rest of his gear into a backpack that had more pockets than it did surface area. “You weren’t here when the robbery happened, were you?”

  “No. I heard about it from mom and Jenn, but that was it.” Chris gestured for Robin to lead them back to the parking lot.

  She walked up the back into the shade of the gazebo. She dreaded telling Chris about her conversation with Jodi, knowing he was likely to disapprove. No time like the present. “I went to see Jodi Clark, I mean, Jenkins.”

  Chris set his fishing gear down on the bench that ran around the edge of the hexagon-shaped shelter. “Why did you go see Jodi?”

  “I assumed that’s who Roy was talking about when he said, ‘Jo Jo.’” Robin crossed her arms in front of her. “He was probably trying to say ‘Jodi,’ but couldn’t get the second syllable out.”

  Chris pinned her with his gaze, his hands on his hips.

  “I know I shouldn’t have gone to see her, but I wanted to tell her what Roy said. I didn’t know if you would or not. She deserves to know that she was the last person he was thinking about before he died. I couldn’t just walk away from that. It’s because of me he died and —”