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

by Nancy Basile

  On her way out of the kitchen, Robin hugged Jenn from behind, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “Sorry, I can’t help with the favors.” She grabbed her messenger bag off the hook in the hallway and headed out the front door.

  Jenn called after her. “We’ll be there for hours! Feel free to stop by!”

  ✽✽✽

  Chris Payne beamed at Robin through the glass.

  She remembered how handsome he’d been in high school, and how well he filled out his shoulder pads, but his portrait in the school’s hall of fame trophy case reminded her just how handsome. Even in a black-and-white photo, his eyes sparkled. And his smile couldn’t have been any brighter.

  Chris’s quarterback portrait rested next to their West Virginia state championship trophy, while the team photo from that year sat on the other side. That year had been the pinnacle of the River Sutton Otters’ football history. They’d never won states before, or since.

  Robin waited at River Sutton High School to pick up homemade soy candles from the principal, Reginald Sotheby. Jenn had texted her the last-minute errand after Robin left the house and headed for the police station. Mr. Sotheby had an online shop as a side hustle. His great-grandmother had handed down the candle recipe, according to Jenn. He took requests for custom scents, so Jenn had ordered lilac. A lovely old lilac tree grew in the Pearce’s backyard and both sisters loved that scent. Every spring, the two of them would snip off sprigs to put in mason jars for their bedrooms. Jenn and Deb would use Sotheby’s candles in the lighting ceremony during their wedding, infusing the service with a fond scent of home.

  While the principal was on a conference call, Robin strolled the hallways of her alma mater. She lingered at the sports trophy case, peering at all the photos of Chris as the star quarterback. She couldn’t decide if she preferred the posed portraits or the shots of Chris in action. The local reporters had captured lots of excellent shots of Chris with his arm reared back, ready to fire off a goal-scoring pass.

  They’d also caught the senior cheerleaders in a few action poses. Chris’s old girlfriend, Mary Mitchell, was right out front in every one. Robin remembered seeing the two of them, arm in arm, boarding the school bus before and after away games. Even now she could feel that old sadness weighing on her heart. She reminded herself high school was long over, and so was Chris’s relationship with Mary.

  She looked again at the football team photo from their senior year. After only ten years, she didn’t recognize some faces. However, she could pick out Troy Harris in the second row. His sneer annoyed her still. His sexist, arrogant, self-centered sneer. How well she remembered his cuts about her early blooming figure or her unfashionable hair. She could still feel his hands when he would “accidentally” bump into her in the halls. It was a good thing that the photo was behind glass, because Robin always carried a marker in her messenger bag, and drawing a dunce cap on Troy’s head would be delightful.

  Tearing herself away from the sports photos and trophies, Robin moved down the empty, echoing hallway to the other cases. Each class from the last ten years had its own case full of photos, awards, and mementos.

  She glanced briefly at cases from the recent years, but stopped to gaze at a photo of Jenn as the senior cheerleading captain. Although Jenn was strong, which would have usually placed her at the bottom of cheering pyramids, she had been the most agile on her squad, so she stood at the pinnacle of every one, arms raised with a giant smile on her face. Robin loved the photos from the sidelines, seeing her sister in profile, caught mid-clap.

  Continuing back through the years, Robin reached the case for her own graduating class, which would disappear from the school hallway soon, since they were ten years out from their graduation day. There she was giving a speech as valedictorian. There she was holding the Caribou Cup certificate for placing in the top third of the worldwide math competition. And there she was accepting the National Merit Finalist award. No wonder everyone called her Professor Robin. Looking at this case, even she was getting sick of herself.

  Robin turned when she heard a door creak. Principal Sotheby glanced around before spotting her in the hallway. “Ms. Pearce, please come in.” He held the door open and gestured for her to enter the office. She smiled at him as she walked into the waiting area. The scents of ammonia, ink, and paper filled her nose. A lone summer secretary tapped at a keyboard behind a long, low counter. She smiled at Robin, then turned to Mr. Sotheby as he addressed her. “Mrs. Lowther, I shouldn’t be but a few minutes, and then we can go over the final class schedule for next year.” Mrs. Lowther nodded and resumed tapping on her keyboard.

  The principal led her into his office, which had a view of the inner courtyard. River Sutton was built like an old castle, with second-floor hallways that made up four sides of a square, with an open courtyard in the center, where the students could eat lunch, hold meetings after school, or, if they were very lucky, take study hall outside on especially sunny days. Redbud trees dotted the space and blanketed picnic tables with their pink petals every spring.

  Mr. Sotheby’s office was neat to the point of minimalism. A candle burned on the corner of his desk, spreading the scent of sandalwood through the air. “It’s so nice to see you again, Robin.” Mr. Sotheby had taught English when Robin was in high school. “I see your sister around town, but I haven’t seen you since you graduated.” As he sat behind his desk, Robin noticed his dark hair was now sprinkled with gray. He rested his hands on his desk blotter, and Robin had a flash of those long-fingered hands scribbling quotes across the board in class.

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Mr. Sotheby.” It was difficult to feel like she wasn’t about to get detention, even though she was a grown woman.

  “How’s Cleveland treating you?”

  “Very well.” Robin had hoped to grab the candles and scamper, but apparently some small talk was in order. “I love my work and the company I work for is top notch.”

  “Wonderful. I love to hear when students are making headway in the world.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You and I both know that doesn’t happen frequently around here.” He winked.

  Robin didn’t have a response to that. “Jenn said the candles are ready?” She hitched her messenger bag higher on her shoulder.

  “Of course.” He opened a lower drawer and pulled out a brown box wrapped with jute that was tied in a bow. “I was so pleased to make this for her and Deb. And I had a few sprigs of dried lilac left from May.” He slid the box across the top of the desk to Robin.

  “I know she’s thrilled. How much do I owe you?” Robin twisted to retrieve her wallet from her bag. He stilled her with an outstretched hand.

  “Nothing. It was my sincere pleasure.”

  “Oh, but, Mr. Sotheby—”

  “I always had a soft spot for both you girls.” Girls who were now in their twenties. “I’m just tickled to be part of her big day.”

  Robin knew better than to push him harder to accept payment; that would be an insult. Instead, she smiled. “Thank you so much. I know they’ll both be touched by your generosity.”

  “You girls were two of the best. In fact, there were several outstanding students in and near your graduating class.” He squinted and looked toward the ceiling. “The Payne boys were wonderful students, too.” Then he brought his attention back to Robin and raised his eyebrows. “Then there are the students who surprise you, like Troy Harris.”

  She almost groaned out loud. Was he about to testify for Troy’s reformed ways? “It seems to be the consensus that he’s not the same old Troy.” Robin tried to keep grinning, but her lip just curled.

  “He’s not, and I would never have guessed that he would have turned out to be so successful, so magnanimous.”

  “Magnanimous? How so?”

  “Didn’t you know? He personally paid to have the memorial to Mark Jenkins erected.” Mr. Sotheby rested his hand on his chest. “That poor, brave, young man.”

  Robin frowned. “Wait, Troy o
r Mark?”

  “Mark, of course.” Again, he looked away, probably remembering Mark as a student. “He was another one that surprised me. When he graduated, I figured he’d take a job at the pottery factory or the steel mill, if he could get one. Then he got hired at the bank as a security guard and, well, that really impressed me.”

  “Why? You didn’t think he was qualified?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He pressed his lips together. “It was just that he had never seemed concerned with anyone but himself.” Robin nodded, remembering his leering face not far away every time Troy had tormented her. “But after he became a security guard, I noticed a marked improvement in his character, like the way he treated others around town. And he started coming to Sunday services at the Presbyterian church.”

  Robin raised her eyebrows. Mark had truly matured. Maybe the same was possible for Troy, and she needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. That would be difficult, but she should try.

  Principal Sotheby smoothed the twine bow on the candle box. “I always thought it was Roy’s disappearance that helped Troy and Mark turn a new leaf, so to speak.”

  Hearing Roy’s name, Robin perked up. “Really?”

  He blew a slow breath from his nose. “That poor boy didn’t have a lot of friends, but he did have Troy and Mark. I think when he went missing, the two of them realized that life is short and it was time to grow up.”

  “When you say ‘life is short,’ do you mean they thought he was dead? I heard everyone figured he went south for a job.” She slid the box out of Mr. Sotheby’s hands before he worried the twine into a frayed mess and rested it on her lap.

  “One never knows, does one?” He shook his head. “I heard the rumors about his moving south, too, but as young boys, who knows what horrors they pictured befalling their friend?”

  “Possibly. Of course, now, Roy truly is gone.”

  He tilted his head to one side and his face softened. “And I hear you were the one to find him. You poor dear.”

  Robin saw Roy in the road again, gasping to pass on a message. “More like poor Roy.” She chewed her lip and ducked her head. “I can’t seem to get him out of my mind.” Mr. Sotheby had always been a sympathetic teacher, a good listener.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” The corners of his mouth lifted, and he folded his hands. “You never backed down from a challenge and you were always loyal.” Mr. Sotheby had been a watchful teacher, too. “I’m sure you’ll see justice done.”

  “Along with the sheriff.” Robin stood to leave.

  “Of course. Along with Sheriff Payne.” He followed her to his office door, holding it open for her again. “Good luck, Robin. And best wishes to the brides.”

  Chapter 14

  Chris led her through the cramped police station that occupied the first floor of the courthouse. Robin waved to Warsinsky as she passed his desk, but he just looked confused.

  Chris caught the exchange. “The officers aren’t used to anyone but perps coming through here.” That explains why they eyed her like a calf who jumped its fence and wandered into the bull’s pen.

  The sheriff’s office sat at the rear of the building. The windows faced the employee parking lot, with crumbling concrete barriers, faded white lines, and flattened pop cans. Inside, however, his office was tidy and squeaky clean. Framed certificates hung on the bright-white walls, along with a plaque that read, “For distinguished service in the line of duty,” and was dated last year. The only personal item Chris kept on his desk was a framed photo of himself in camouflage, kneeling over a buck with a large and many-pronged rack.

  He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Thanks for coming in. I know you’re busy with Jenn’s wedding.”

  “Not a problem.” She set her bag on the floor, tried to cross her legs, failed, and crossed her ankles instead. “What can I do for you?”

  “After we spoke yesterday, I visited Bruce and Jodi.” He rested his forearms on his desk and entwined his fingers. It was hard to focus on his eyes and not on his muscular, tanned arms. “I didn’t think I’d get very far with the two of them at home, but I also didn’t want to fluster them by bringing them into the station.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Not well.” One side of his mouth lifted, revealing an adorable dimple. “Jodi completely denied having anything to do with Roy, and Bruce said as little as possible. I noticed, though, that Bruce wasn’t surprised when I asked Jodi what her relationship with Roy was.”

  “So he either knew about the rumors or knew that she was seeing Roy, if she was.”

  “Exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then clasped his hands together again. “Suspects are few and far between right now, so I’d like to have actual evidence if I’m going to bring one of them in for questioning.”

  “There’s no one else you’re looking at? What about whoever he knew down south? Or that man who used to buy wood from Roy and his mom? Or a random theft?” She clamped her mouth shut, knowing she was rambling. Although she loved solving problems, and was desperate to get justice for Roy, she just couldn’t believe Jodi was the killer. Jodi, who used to splice plants to make hybrids when they were kids. It seemed impossible.

  Chris leaned back in his chair and sighed. “As for known associates or friends in the south, Roy didn’t leave much of a trail for me to follow.”

  “I believe it.” Robin gestured toward Chris’s desktop computer. “I tried to get a previous address or find out where he worked in North Carolina and came up with squat.”

  “That makes me feel better.” His grin was sheepish and adorable. “As for old high school friends, he didn’t have many, if you remember.”

  Robin frowned, casting her mind back to River Sutton High. “I remember he hung out with Troy Harris and Mark Jenkins. And some kids from the class ahead of us, right?”

  “Yes, but there’s not much to go on there. As you know, Mark is dead. As for the older guys, they’re dead or in jail.”

  River Sutton was a deceptively dangerous place to live. There’s not much to do, so kids drink. Then they drive. The combination of drunk driving and hilly, winding roads meant River Sutton had more than its fair share of teenage deaths. If drunk driving didn’t kill them, they got thrown in prison for dealing drugs, buying drugs, or stealing to buy drugs.

  “And, of course, Troy owns the Mountain Gold Casino now.” Chris shifted in his chair. “I stopped in his office yesterday afternoon, asked him where he was at the time of Roy’s death, but he was at work, so he’s cleared.”

  “Did you seriously suspect him?” Chris confused her feelings about Troy. She couldn’t stand the teenager he used to be, but he seemed like a model citizen now. She’d hate to think he was a killer.

  “Not really. What motive would he have? He hasn’t seen Roy in years, and he’s got plenty of money. Since they used to know each other, I had to check off that box.” Robin nodded. “As for a random theft, what was there to steal? His truck and TV were still at the trailer. Other than those things, there wasn’t anything else of value to take.”

  “What about his cellphone? Who had he been calling?”

  Chris just shook his head. “Old habits die hard. He only used burner phones because they’re cheap. The one we found didn’t have a single call on it.”

  “Okay, so we’re back to square one.” She pressed her pointer finger against her lips, thinking.

  “That’s where you come in.” Chris sat forward again, and Robin perked up. “I need your help to look up traffic camera footage.”

  “Traffic camera footage? River Sutton has traffic cameras?”

  “No, River Sutton doesn’t have that kind of money, but the county does, mainly for Amber alerts. They’re sprinkled around the county, mostly at entrances and exits to municipalities. That way, if a car enters or leaves a municipality, we can better track where they’re headed. Can you imagine if we put a camera on every back road, dirt road, and long lane? It would cost a fortune, not just t
o install the system, but also to maintain it.”

  That made complete sense. Rollins County had too many minor roads to keep track of on video. By covering only the entrances and exits to bigger towns in the county, which were only a few, the cameras could record anyone traveling a significant distance. “What are you looking for?”

  “Roy’s place happens to be along one of the major routes out of or into River Sutton.” Chris raised his eyebrows and she twigged.

  “You want to see who came and went before he was killed.”

  Chris leaned in. “Specifically, Bruce or Jodi.”

  She pointed at him. “Pretty smart, Sheriff Payne.”

  He spread his hands in front of him. “I try. Here.” He stood and directed her to sit in his chair.

  She moved around to his side of the desk and sat. The desk hit her at almost shoulder height. She reached down and pulled on the chair’s lever to raise it. “Do you mind? You’re about a foot taller than I am.”

  “Make yourself comfortable.” He grabbed the chair she’d been in and placed it next to her, sitting down at her left shoulder. He was so close she could smell him, a fresh laundry scent with a touch of pine.

  She wiggled the mouse to wake up the computer. “Are you logged into the camera network’s system?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s about all I know how to do.” He ducked his head and winced. “I might not have paid much attention during our training.”

  Robin laughed. “Not a problem.” Looking at the monitor, she could see the program’s menu was laid out logically, much like computer directories with nested folders. There was one folder per day, labeled with that day’s date, and within a day’s folder, twenty-four folders for each hour. She opened the directory of folders for the day of Roy’s death.

  Chris pointed at the screen. “Let’s start with videos that were recorded during the hour before Roy’s death. If we don’t see anything, we’ll go out two hours and so on.”

  “Gotcha.” She clicked open the appropriate folder and saw sixty different files, one for each minute of the hour. She turned her head and looked at Chris over her shoulder. “This is going to take a while.”