Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3

by Lisa B. Thomas

  He studied the picture on my phone. “How do you know it’s the same club?”

  “I talked to Bert Crosby at the club.”

  Jake shook his head. “My, you’re a regular Nancy Drew, aren’t you.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “So tell me your theory. If Curtis took Harold’s club, he must have had a reason. What do you think it was?”

  I hadn’t even thought about it until now. “I heard him say he wanted to buy Harold’s set of clubs and Beverly refused to sell them to him. Maybe it’s what Bert said. He thinks it’s a good golf club and he can play better with it.”

  Jake rubbed his chin. “From my experience, the risk of an action needs to equal the reward, or at least get close. Curtis has plenty of money. He could buy any clubs he wants. I don’t think that would be worth the risk of getting caught stealing.”

  “Well, maybe he just borrowed it and planned to return it after finding out what kind it was.”

  “If he had just wanted to know the brand, he could have taken a picture of it like you did. Still too risky.”

  I folded my arms. “Then maybe it was just out of spite because he doesn’t like Harold and Beverly.”

  “That’s probably closer. Now you’re dealing with emotions. People will do crazy things when they’re not thinking straight.”

  I twisted the pearl ring my grandparents gave me when I graduated from high school—a sure sign I was either nervous or deep in thought.

  Somehow, Jake knew. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

  “There’s one other reason Curtis may have taken the club. Maybe he took the club to get rid of it?”

  “And why would he do that?”

  I used my scary ghost-story voice. “Maybe the club had been used in a crime. Perhaps even a murder. Perhaps even Harold’s murder.” I held up my hands and wriggled my fingers.

  “You may be on to something.”

  “Jake! I was kidding.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes, well, maybe. I mean, the club could have been used to whack Harold. But you don’t really think that Curtis killed Harold?”

  “It would explain why he took the club.”

  “Took it and left it in his front room?”

  “That’s curious, for sure. There’s only one way to find out. We need to tell the sheriff.”

  “Gulp. I didn’t really have a problem tattling on Curtis when I thought he was just a creep and a thief, but this is serious.”

  “All crime is serious.”

  “You know what they say, ‘Snitches get stitches.’”

  Jake shook his head. “Basically, my entire job is snitching, and the only stitches I’ve ever gotten were from falling off my bike and busting open my chin.”

  I walked over to his desk and leaned in toward him. “Do you have a scar?”

  He looked up and for a moment, we held each other’s gaze. The gold flecks in his eyes looked like stars circling a dark planet.

  I blinked and took a step back.

  As I did, he caught my hand and pulled it toward his face. He took my finger and rubbed it across his chin. “It’s here. Under my beard.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The touch of his hand and the feel of his face were too much. I came to my senses and pulled back my hand. “Speaking of scars, have you seen that one on Handy Andy? What happened to him?”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed as his lips curled into just a hint of a smile. “Oh, you mean Beverly’s Andy? He and Harold got in a fight. It was years ago.” He turned to his computer and began typing.

  “What are you doing? Sending a bat signal to Sheriff Grady?”

  “No. I would just use the phone for that. I’m trying to see something.” He punched in more numbers. “Wait here.”

  He left and came back with a kitchen chair, placing it next to him at the desk. He twisted one of the monitors toward me. “Here, take a look.”

  “Are you sure I don’t need to know a secret password to see this?”

  “No. Just your social security number and date of birth. Seriously, look at this.”

  A video began playing. “Hey, that’s my house. Have you been watching me?”

  “No, but I could. That’s our whole street. I have a security camera set up to guard the neighborhood.”

  “Guard it from creepers like you.”

  “Watch how I can zoom in on different houses.”

  “Great. Remind me to keep my front blinds closed.” I was only half kidding.

  “Don’t worry. The image quality isn’t that great. You can mainly just see the street and yards.”

  “Sure. Until you buy some high-powered telescope. What’s that number for Sheriff Grady?”

  “It’s 9-1-1. Now, shut up and look at this.” He typed in a few numbers and hit enter.

  The video changed. It was lighter outside. Cars drove in front of the houses and parked. I leaned in closer to the screen. “Who are those people?”

  “This is from Saturday after the funeral. I want to see if we can catch a glimpse of Curtis leaving the house.” He held down a button and the video went into fast-forward mode. “Look, here’s us going out to move the Cadillac.”

  “I can’t believe you have this on film. I’m glad I wasn’t picking my nose.”

  “Me too,” he said, making a sour face. “I remember Curtis said he was leaving right before Bert made his toast.” He rewound the video and let it play.

  We watched as a few people walked up to the house and went in. A man, probably Dale, let them in the front door.

  Nothing seemed to happen for a few minutes, then Jake hit a key, stopped the image, and pointed at the screen. “There. He didn’t come out the front door. Must have come from around the back of the house.” He hit play, and we watched a man in a suit walk from the back of Beverly’s house, across my front yard, and into the Meeks’ house.

  “That looks like Curtis,” I said, “but I don’t see him carrying anything.”

  “You’re right. But why would he leave out the back?”

  “Maybe he left the club by the garage and then went back under the veil of darkness and got it.”

  Jake made air quotes. “Under the ‘veil of darkness’? Really?”

  “So I read a lot. Sue me.”

  He snickered. “Again, I think I need to tell Grady about this, for Beverly’s sake. Even if the club doesn’t have blood evidence on it, the club needs to be returned.”

  “Blood evidence? Eww.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “You’re awfully squeamish for a nose picker.”

  “I’m not a nose picker!”

  “You said it, not me.”

  “One question. Why didn’t you use your surveillance tape to see what happened on the day Harold died?”

  “I did. There wasn’t anything unusual. Andy got there around noon. Beverly left a little after that. She came back a couple of hours later. Then the ambulance and cops arrived.”

  “What about Harold?”

  “He had been on the golf course all morning. He comes and goes around the back. Because of the camera angle, you can’t see the back of the house, remember?”

  Jake had a point. “I think you’re right. This golf club thing could be evidence. We should call Sheriff Grady.”

  “No, I should call. Nothing personal, but this is a small town and they don’t get any smaller than Tucker Grady. He makes Andy Griffith look like he’s with the CIA. You’ve already given Grady one headache by opening the can of worms around Harold’s death.”

  “But all I did was—”

  He put his hand on my lips. “I know what happened. I’m on your side, remember? But the way Grady sees it is that some woman came to town and stirred up trouble and is making him look bad. After all, he’s the one who determined there was no foul play in the first place. I think this new thorn in his side is better coming from me.”

  I could still feel Jake’s soft touch on my mouth after he pulled his hand away. His wo
rds were secondary but made sense.

  “Also, I hear there’s bad blood between you and Mrs. Sheriff Grady. You wouldn’t want him thinking this was part of some ancient grudge, would you?”

  “No,” I sighed. “Have I told you how much I hate small towns?”

  “You’ll get used to it again.”

  “That’s what people keep saying, but I’m not so sure.”

  He picked up his cell phone to make the call.

  There was one thing in this town I knew I could definitely get used to: Jake Faro.

  Chapter 16

  We walked over to my house to wait for Sheriff Grady to arrive at Curtis’s; that way we could peek out the front window and get a close-up view of the action. I got us each a beer while Jake went out back to get more kindling for the stove. By now it was nice and warm inside. Sitting in the dark next to Jake on the sofa felt right. I could imagine curling up next to him and binge watching shows on Netflix.

  It didn’t take long for Grady to get there. Luckily, he wasn’t flashing his lights or using his siren. If the neighbors noticed, which they probably would, they might think he was there for a social call.

  “Who’s that guy with the sheriff?” I asked as we watched two officers get out of the squad car.

  “That’s Pete Randall. He’s a nice guy. His mother owns a shop on the square.”

  From our angle, we couldn’t see the front door of Curtis’s house. “What did you tell him on the phone?” I asked. “Did you tell him the club was in the front room next to the bookcase?”

  “Yep. I even told him the brand.”

  “I feel bad for Lana and that baby.”

  “That baby has a name. It’s Delia.”

  “Um, I’m pretty sure it’s Delilah. I remember thinking that’s a lot of letters to have monogrammed on all that baby stuff. Too pricey. I’m going to name my kids something short, like Jo or Ki.”

  “Your mind works in mysterious ways.”

  “Well excuse me. I’m just being practical. We don’t all come from money.”

  “You think I come from money?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Not hardly.” He stared back out the window.

  “Good. Money makes people stupid. That’s what happened to my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Are you sure it didn’t have something to do with having a crazy girlfriend?”

  Before I could offer a witty retort, another squad car pulled up. An officer got out and hurried up the walk to the house. Soon, the officer reappeared with Curtis. They walked to the squad car where the officer did the hand-on-head thing as he put Curtis in the back seat.

  I couldn’t believe it. “Do you think Curtis is under arrest?”

  “He wasn’t wearing handcuffs, so I’m not sure. Look.”

  Pete Randall walked out wearing gloves and carrying the golf club. He put it in the trunk of the car and the two officers drove away.

  It was like a scene from a movie. Only thing missing was the popcorn.

  When Grady reappeared, Jake jumped up. “I’ll be back.” He grabbed his jacket and headed outside. He and Grady talked a minute before Grady drove off. Jake came back inside.

  “What did he say? Is Curtis going to jail? Was there blood on the golf club?” I took a breath. “I feel so guilty.”

  “You should. They’re taking Curtis down to the station to beat the crap out of him until he confesses.”

  My eyes widened at the prospect. “Really?”

  “Nah,” he said with a chuckle. “They’re just going to ask him questions about why he had Harold’s club at his house. For all we know, he was getting Harold’s initials monogrammed on the head.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  “No, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore. I’ve lived here less than a week, and already the sheriff has been to the houses on both sides of me. Does that mean I’m next?”

  Jake’s eyes twinkled. “Probably.”

  Chapter 17

  “Sounds like you and Jake had an exciting evening,” Nancy said as we sat on our mats at the gym stretching. She had agreed to serve as my bodyguard Wednesday morning at yoga class in case Sherry decided to pull some karate moves on me.

  My legs felt like dead weights, and my thigh was still tender. “I couldn’t believe they arrested Beverly and then took Curtis off like that. I guess in the back of my mind I just thought they’d make him apologize to Beverly and give it back.”

  “He’s a grown man, not some kid taking another kid’s toy on the playground.”

  I flapped my legs to stretch my muscles. “I suppose. Still, seeing him carted away like that was weird. I wonder what his wife was thinking.”

  “She was probably wondering why she’d picked such a jerk for her baby-daddy.”

  I had to laugh. “Do you know her?”

  “She and Curtis moved here less than a year ago from Denver so he could manage the bank. I’ve met her a few times at social functions but have never had an actual conversation with her. She had the baby a couple of months after they moved here. They used someone else to buy their house, so I haven’t had to pretend to like them.”

  “I wonder if she has friends or family here. She might be lonely. Maybe I should try to talk to her.”

  “Would that be before or after she finds out you nailed her husband for petty larceny?”

  “Good point.” I made a face as Sherry and Gretchen strolled in. Sherry’s massive brown curls were pulled up on top of her head in a high ponytail with ringlets cascading down beside her face. She really was a beautiful girl. Too bad she wore such thick eyeliner. It gave her a harsh, mean-girl look.

  “Check it out,” I said, diverting my eyes. “There she is.”

  “I wish I had her body,” Nancy whispered.

  “We hate her, remember?” I whispered back.

  “Hate is a wasted emotion.”

  “Just wait.”

  Gretchen laid down her mat on the other side of the gym as Sherry walked up and stood over me like a skyscraper. “I see you bribed someone to pretend to be your friend today.”

  “Hi, Sherry,” Nancy said. “Nice to see you.”

  Ignoring her, Sherry said, “How’s your leg? I hope your injury didn’t cause more spider veins to pop out. You know, I’d hate for you to have to quit the gym. If anyone needs to be here, it’s you.”

  The instructor clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, ladies. It’s time to get started.”

  I smiled up at Sherry and pointed where Gretchen was sitting. “Hey, train wreck, isn’t that your station?”

  She rolled her eyes and walked away.

  I looked back at Nancy. “See what I mean.”

  She shook her head. “If eye rolling were an Olympic sport, she’d have a gold medal.”

  I grinned and held up my hand, waiting for a slap.

  “No,” Nancy said. “This isn’t the nineties. There’s no high-fiving in yoga.”

  I pulled my hand back and looked over at Sherry. She contorted like a pretzel and sneered at me across the room.

  “You know,” Nancy said, “silly high school rivalries are usually forgotten after this much time. Why is yours with Sherry still iron hot?”

  “It’s a long story having to do with our brothers. We can talk about it another time.”

  “Okay. So tell me why we’re here again,” Nancy said as we lay face up on our mats practicing breathing.

  “Because Sherry challenged me to come. I couldn’t say no. After we look at those other properties, I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Sounds good, but you can’t eat much since you’re going out to dinner with Jake tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I jerked up straight. “Is this Wednesday? I forgot about that.”

  “Well, he hasn’t.”

  I wondered if he thought it was a date. Whatever it was, he thought enough about it to mention it to his sister. I pushed and pulled myself up and down, trying to copy the inst
ructor’s moves. This was only my third attempt at yoga, and I was about as limber as a steel rod. I considered faking an injury, but Sherry would know I was lying. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.

  Plan B. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my yoga pants, pretending I’d just gotten a call. The instructor, a woman in her fifties who looked like a former ballerina, shook her head at me. I got up and walked out of the room. By the time class was over, I was dressed and waiting on the bench by the front desk. I had thrown a towel around my neck as though I had just showered.

  “Thanks for abandoning me back there,” Nancy said, her face dripping with sweat. “Did I mention how much I hate yoga?”

  “Think of all the toxins you just released from your body. I bet you feel great. I hope you’re not one of those people who eats whatever they want and never gains weight. I thought we were going to be exercise friends.”

  “Not hardly. About the weight, I mean, not the friends part. I come here twice a week to work out.”

  “So what do you do? Lift weights? Jazzercise?”

  “Again, I think Jazzercise went out in the nineties,” she said. “No, I spin.”

  “Spin? Like in wearing a tutu and twirling in a circle?”

  “No, like in spin class.” She pointed to a row of stationary bikes. “You should try it. Even you can do it. It’s like riding a bike.”

  Sherry and Gretchen walked past. “Nice workout,” Sherry snickered. “We’re off to volunteer at the school. If I don’t see you again, have a nice, boring life. Ta-ta.”

  I clenched my jaw. “I’d like to get my hands on her ta-tas.”

  Nancy shot me a look.

  “That didn’t come out right.”

  Nancy headed to the locker room for a quick shower while I googled the internet again for Harold Attwood’s name. Nothing new came up. It was like Cascada was a third world country with little or no connection to the outside world. I logged into Facebook. My friends list had gotten really short over the past six weeks. Most of those who remained were relatives or people I had little personal contact with.