Murder Hits the Road

by K. J. Emrick

  “Okay, now… now this is crazy.” Franky pushed back from the table, still keeping his seat but obviously fighting back his desire to bolt from the room. “Uh… uh… yeah, okay, fine. So, I was fooling around with Stacia. It didn’t mean anything to either of us but yes, it happened. She and Ernesto weren’t in a loving relationship. You pointed that out yourself, Ernesto is old enough to be her father and so sometimes a woman goes looking for something in another man’s arms. I was there for her in a way that Ernesto couldn’t be. It was purely physical. It didn’t mean anything. So what?”

  “I think your wife might have a different opinion,” Jerry suggested.

  “She never said anything before!”

  “What was I supposed to say?” Penny griped. “You flaunted it right in front of me, like I didn’t matter! Of course I don’t want you with another woman. I’ve never wanted you with her. I only want you with me. Is that what you want to hear? Fine, I’ll say it out loud! I’ll say it as often as you want me to!

  “Sure, now that it’s out in the open, you say that now,” he grumbled. “But, look. Jerry, just listen to me. You have to know I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even kill that dog, although I surely did hate that thing! Every time Stacia was with me she had to…”

  He caught the way Jerry was looking at him. Obviously, trying to make excuses for himself wasn’t working.

  “Right. Um.” With everyone in the room looking at him, Franky had to change tactics. “Never mind that. No, seriously Jerry, listen. Uh. You have to believe me. There has to be something I can say to make you believe me… No, I know. We were with you. At the American Heritage museum. We were with you and Cookie when Stacia and Ernesto drove by in their motorhome. We couldn’t have killed the dog because we were with you. You and Cookie are our alibi!”

  Cookie drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “I thought about that already, Franky. Yes, you were with us when Stacia and Ernesto drove by. But, you were late arriving at the museum. Jerry and I were the first ones there. That gave you two plenty of time to hang back at Whispering Maples, kill Boxer, and then come to meet us. Boxer never got on the motorhome with Stacia and Ernesto. They left him behind, and it cost him his life.”

  There was sweat running down Franky’s face now. Everything he said just got him in deeper and deeper. Cookie could see the whole scenario playing out in her mind. Franky killed Boxer, and then met them at the museum like nothing had ever happened. That night at Heaven’s Haven, he snuck into Stacia’s motorhome. No doubt she had given him a key to get in whenever he wanted to, since they were having an illicit affair. He killed Ernesto, maybe to get him out of his way to have Stacia all to himself. Then he took Humphrey’s cane to frame him…

  But why would he attack Stacia?

  While Franky continued to argue his innocence, despite the mounting evidence against him, Cookie pondered that question. He was having an affair on his wife. Maybe he wanted to end the affair the hard way. That would explain the attack on both Ernesto and Stacia. Then again, if Penny knew about the affair wouldn’t she have the bigger motive to kill Stacia?

  “Penny,” she said, “you must understand that the murderer has to be either you, or Franky. After Ernesto was killed, me and Jerry went back to Whispering Maples to get Boxer’s body. Someone called ahead and had us attacked. Now, the only people who knew we were going back there were you and Franky. We told you, and no one else. Just you two.”

  “I know,” Penny said miserably, her eyes flicking to Franky and away again. “When your call came in we were just getting Stacia settled into our motorhome, if you can believe that. I actually helped Franky put his girlfriend in our personal space! Anyway, you called, and we gave her that song and dance about you going back for your wallet, Jerry, and then we got out blankets and pillows for her!”

  “That’s nice,” Jerry said, “but it only proves our point. One of you two is the killer. From what you’re telling me—actually, from what both of you are telling me now—it looks like that someone is you, Franky. Maybe you just want to confess now and save us the trouble of any more of these questions?”

  “I didn’t do it!” Franky was yelling now. “I swear I didn’t do it!”

  The more he protested, the more Cookie believed him.

  Even after all this talking, there were more questions than answers. That’s the way this whole mystery had gone for Cookie. Just as soon as she was sure she had the right killer, something happened, and she began to think the exact opposite.

  Sitting here in this room, several things began to nag at her. She just had to think about them, and puzzle them together…

  “We even helped her clean up,” Penny muttered, dropping her face into her hands. “We helped her wash up the blood in her bathroom for her. Or at least, I did. Well, well. What were you and Stacia doing while I was working so hard in her bathroom to clean it up for her, Franky? Huh? Can you tell me that?”

  Franky stared down at the floor, at the tips of his shoes. “I’d rather not say what we were doing. In fact, I think we need to stop this interview. I think I need a lawyer.”

  Cookie stood up, even as Jerry was about to ask another question. She didn’t need to ask anything else. The last pieces had fallen into place.

  “Jerry,” she said, “I have everything I need now. Come with me, and I’ll explain.”

  He gave her a strange look, but he didn’t bother arguing with her. He understood that he could trust her instincts. That’s what made them such a good team.

  “Hey,” Franky said as they made their way to the door. “What about us?”

  “For now,” Jerry told them, “just stay there. I guess.”

  Cookie gave them one more glance on her way out. That was when she saw them reach out and take each other’s hand. It was probably the first time they had done that when it wasn’t just for appearances in a long, long time.

  It actually made Cookie smile.

  Lieutenant Fairfield was on them as soon as they had closed the door. “What are you two doing? Where are you going? You were supposed to be getting a confession. What was all that nonsense about museums and canes and who heard what phone calls?”

  “I told you,” Jerry answered him. “We do things our own way.”

  “What in the world is that supposed to mean? Penny was ready to turn on Franky. I saw it. Isn’t that what we wanted? I’m not saying it wasn’t just fantastic to hear about how they cleaned up the blood in her bathroom but what does it have to do with anything?”

  Cookie favored him with a smile. “Actually, you’ve just laid out each of the clues we need to solve this mystery.”

  “What?”

  “Museums, and canes, and blood.” Cookie had been thinking about each one during the interview just now. Those clues were like breadcrumbs. “That’s what this case is all about.”

  Duke lifted his hands wide, almost pleading with her to explain herself. “So… where are you going now?”

  She slipped her arm through Jerry’s as they headed up the hallway. “Why, we’re going to see the real killer. We’ll call you later. Promise.”

  At the door, Jerry leaned in and whispered, “You are going to tell me what we’re doing, right?”

  “Yes, dear,” she said, patting his arm. “Just as soon as we get to the motorhome. Cream must be hungry again by now.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “A re we sure we’re right this time?” Jerry asked her, for what must have been the fifth time.

  “I told you everything the clues say,” Cookie reminded him patiently. “They’ve pointed us here.”

  “After we accused nearly everyone else we know on this trip first.”

  Cookie shook her head. “That’s not true. We didn’t accuse Abraham Selk.”

  “Well.” Jerry shrugged. “He did loan me his Mustang.”

  They stood outside the room for another few seconds, bracing themselves for what they would see on the other side of this door. It was hard for Cookie to believe it had all
come to this. In a way, it was no wonder they had run around in circles, going through a list of every other possible suspect first. The truth was so much harder to take. Still, facts were facts. The truth was what it was, and no matter what spin someone tried to put on it, that would never change.

  Even if it took both of them to see it.

  Jerry took the lead, and pushed through the hydraulic door, into room 210 of the Saint’s Mercy hospital. Behind the door in a private room, lying in bed with bandages wrapped around her head, was the final suspect in a very twisty murder mystery.

  Stacia Ferris.

  Her head was lumpy with the thick gauze under those bandages. She had been reading through an old magazine when they came in. Now she set it aside and smiled at both of them.

  “Hey, you two. I was wondering when someone would show up to check on me. I haven’t seen Penny or Franky at all.”

  Cookie sat at the foot of the bed, and patted Stacia’s knee. “I’m sorry, dear. Franky and Penny won’t be coming.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Oh. Because they were arrested for attacking you.”

  Stacia’s eyes went wide, the look of surprise on her face so genuine that anyone looking at her would certainly have been fooled. Cookie looked harder, though, and this time she could see the way the mask didn’t match her eyes. The face that Stacia Ferris showed the world wasn’t the real her. The person under the surface was someone far, far different.

  If she’d had any doubts before about the conclusion she had finally come around to, she was certain now.

  Cookie gave Stacia’s knee another pat. “I’m sure Penny and Franky would love to be here if they could. I’m sure they would like to look you in the face when you admit to killing your husband Ernesto. Oh, what a story that must be.”

  “What?” Stacia asked again, her voice squeaky and tight this time. “You… you don’t know what you’re saying. Humphrey killed my husband, and… and my dog. Poor Boxer. Humphrey killed them both.”

  A single tear dropped from the corner of her eye, giving a sincerity to her words that Cookie didn’t feel. She had the greatest desire to slap her across her face. She had led them around the barn and back again, on a grand chase that brought them here. This woman had been her friend. They had shared time together, and laughed together, and even walked their dogs together. It had been a new friendship, granted, but Cookie thought it was real. Stacia had only been leading her on.

  Now she was going to listen to all the reasons why she was guilty as sin.

  Jerry had settled himself into a chair close to the bed, on the same side as Cookie. He relaxed into the very uncomfortable looking leather seat and folded his hands across the armrests. “I’m curious, Stacia. When did you find out about your dog being killed?”

  “What?”

  He smiled at her reaction. “You just said Boxer was killed. Funny, but you shouldn’t know about that. Nobody told you. We knew about it, of course, but we didn’t tell you.”

  She blinked at him, sitting up against the pillows, adjusting the sheets around her, all to give herself time to think of an answer. “I heard about it from Penny and Franky. When you called them to say you were going back to Whispering Maples. You said it was because Boxer was dead. That he’d been killed.”

  “Well, that’s true, we did,” he agreed, “but here’s the thing. We didn’t tell you that. We told that to Penny and Franky and they didn’t pass that on to you, either. They told you we were going back to find my wallet, but not anything about your dog being dead. There was no way for you to know about that.”

  “But I…”

  “No, sorry. There’s no way. Not unless you were there when Boxer was killed in the first place. Cookie and I both thought it was odd that you weren’t even the least bit concerned about where Boxer was. No dog owner is going to just forget about their pet for a whole day. When Cookie found Ernesto dead in your bed you told her you thought Boxer was hiding under the bed, remember?”

  “Of course I remember. So what? I thought he was hiding under the bed.”

  “For twenty-four hours? Really? He was already dead back at Whispering Maples. Even if we forget the fact that you must have left Whispering Maples without ever making sure he was with you in the RV, that still means for a whole day you didn’t even look for him. But, of course you wouldn’t look for him, because you already knew he was dead. So. Let’s call that mistake number one for you.”

  “We’re keeping score?” she demanded, sounding more angry than upset. “You think I made more than one mistake, I take it?”

  “Yes. Several, in fact. First, you already knew Boxer was dead before we went back to find him. Your second mistake was the blood.”

  “Blood? What blood?”

  Cookie answered that one. “Why, the blood in your bathroom, of course.”

  “That was from me being attacked!” she protested. “How is that a mistake? I got hurt, and I bled.”

  “Well, yes and no. Remember, you said you were asleep and you woke up with a splitting headache from being struck by something. In bed.”

  “Cookie, you saw the injury to my head. Of course it bled.”

  “So how come you only bled in the bathroom,” she asked, “and not in your bed?”

  Stacia’s eyes went wide.

  Mistake number two.

  It had seemed odd to Cookie, even if her mind hadn’t immediately picked up on it. Those nice, clean white sheets on the bed Stacia and Ernesto had shared were completely free from blood. Ernesto had been beaten to death, but it had all been bruising and internal injury. Skull fractures and such, she assumed. There were no cuts to his skin and no blood. Not from him.

  Stacia, on the other hand, had been bleeding from her temple. Quite a bit. There should have been blood all over those nice, clean sheets. Only there wasn’t. There was only blood in their bathroom, especially on…

  ‘The corner of your bathroom mirror,” she told Stacia. “That’s what you slammed your head against to make it look like you were injured. I saw all the blood on the mirror, and in the sink, and I just didn’t put it together because I didn’t want to believe you could do this, Stacia. Now I’m seeing things differently, and I know if you were really attacked in bed, there would have been blood there, too.”

  She had nothing to say to that. She chose to keep silent, pressing her lips tightly closed.

  Jerry, on the other hand, had plenty to say. “So, no blood on the sheets where you were supposedly attacked, but blood in the bathroom where you banged your head. That’s mistake number two. You tried the same trick this morning when you needed to cover your tracks again. You wanted to throw blame off of you, and onto Penny and Franky, so you slipped out of the RV after making sure you tired Franky out. Penny was sleeping too, and nobody noticed you leaving. Then you went outside and hit yourself with a rock. All you had to do was wait for someone to find you. Which you did.”

  Cookie cleared her throat when he used the euphemism “tired Franky out,” because they both knew she had used Franky sexually to string him along. It brought up some very, um, interesting mental images.

  “Right,” he said with a shrug. “I’m being indelicate. Still. Giving yourself a whack to the head, two separate times, both to sell the story that you were the victim and not the killer? I doubt you have a delicate disposition. That must have taken nerves like steel, to hit yourself with a rock. What do you think, Cookie? She faked an attack on herself twice. Should we count those as separate mistakes, or as the same one?”

  “I’d say count it as the same one,” Cookie offered. “No points for originality there.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed. “Now. That’s two mistakes. Ready for strike three? Your third mistake was hiring Tabitha and Brock, the two from Whispering Maples in their purple hatchback, to help you set up Humphrey.”

  Cookie nodded. “Of course, that was your plan from the beginning. Oh, maybe not to hire those two, but you had it all planned out to kill Ernesto, and p
in this on Humphrey Middlestead.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Stacia chuckled. “There’s no way you can prove that.”

  “Oh, but we can,” Cookie assured her. “All of this was set up ahead of time. You’ve been doing this same trip for years now, right along with Penny and Franky, and with Humphrey too. That’s how you knew you could count on him being there. You could count on your friends to back you up when you needed to act like the victim. What you didn’t plan on was Jerry and I coming along this year. We were the unexpected ingredient in your recipe. You’ve been scrambling to make it work with us in the mix, but I’m afraid we’re just too much for you.”

  “You’re wrong,” she answered, but there was no conviction behind the words.

  Cookie knew better. She and Jerry truly had been the monkey wrench in Stacia’s plan. “I remember that morning we met out on the trail with our dogs at Whispering Maples. You made sure to tell me that Humphrey had threatened Ernesto with his cane. You were setting Humphrey up even then. I know that now. What I don’t know, is if Boxer’s death was part of your plan. I’m betting Ernesto killed Boxer. I’d like to think it wasn’t planned, and your poor dog’s death was merely the final straw for you.”

  “I love my dog,” Stacia said, and it could possibly have been the first true thing that she’d told them in this whole trip.

  She didn’t say anything more. She wasn’t ready to give up that easily, no matter how many facts Jerry and Cookie had to show her.

  Jerry brought them back to the main point of her third mistake. “So you hired these two, Tabitha and Brock, and you paid them some cash to do a couple of simple tasks. Although, I’m betting it wasn’t too much considering how inept they were. We saw them driving behind your motorhome on the way to Heaven’s Haven. They got themselves arrested when we went back to Whispering Maples. That brings us back to your first mistake, where you pretended not to know about Boxer’s death. You called Tabitha and Brock to dispose of Boxer’s body, wanting them to do it before we showed up, only they aren’t the brightest crayons in the box and they did it after we arrived. So they got caught. That’s what you get when you hire people without doing a good solid interview first. Next time, hire professionals.”