by C T Mitchell
“Speaking of police,” Carmen said. “Who are they sending to investigate? Did they say?”
Peter glanced out the big bay window to the driveway as a car pulled up. “If they were smart, they'd send Detective Jack Creed.”
CHAPTER 3
Detective Jack Creed parked his Mustang outside of Stonehaven Manor. The chief was always trying to get him to drive a squad car or--at the very least--an unmarked car, but no matter how many times he asked, or more like insisted, Jack said no. In fact Jack didn’t bother to say no-- he just totally ignored Chief Superintendent O’Halloran. Not his favorite boss; the feeling was mutual.
Squad cars, Toyota Camry’s for crying out loud, and anything that screamed 'police' wasn't his style. Armani suits, Italian loafers and his American muscle sports car were. They told the world he was a force to be reckoned with. Frankly, the less talking Jack Creed had to do with the public, the better. Stupid people annoyed him. Unfortunately, there was something about crimes—murders in particular—that turned normally rational adults into scatterbrained idiots who could barely remember their own name, let alone any useful information to the case.
More than once, Jack thought about retiring and leaving all the annoyance to his partner, Detective Constable Jo Boston-Wright. Despite her equally annoying hyphenated wanker name, Jo proved herself over and over. She was a good cop--as much as he hated to admit it.
“So what do we know going into this one?” Jo asked from the bucket seat beside him. With his track record for speeding, Jack was surprised she still got into his car, let alone let him drive everywhere. Maybe she was tougher than her hyphenated name let on.
Jack gestered at the three-story tan-brick building rising up in front of them. Ivy snaked up the corners to the quaint cream-shuttered windows. Even knowing there was a dead body inside room 205 waiting for forensics to photograph and tag the scene, Jack thought Stonehaven Manor still looked cozy and inviting. “Kristie Byrnes was found dead in room 205 this morning. Peter and Carmen Brown own Stonehaven Manor Golf Club. We run in the same circles. Or at least the same club circles. Peter helped me improve my swing when I took up golf.”
Jo covered her mouth before laughter could escape. “You golf? I can't picture you in a polo shirt and ugly, checked pants, Jack. Please tell me you were undercover.”
Jack shrugged. “It's relaxing. And it’s a test of one’s mental strength.”
Jo couldn't contain the laughter any longer. “Golf is for old men in plus fours walking around a course chasing a silly white ball into a very small hole. That doesn't scream 'the perfect off-time sport for Detective Jack Creed' to me.”
Jack opened the car door and stepped out. Jo scrambled to follow. “One thing you'll learn in this business, Jo, is that people continually surprise you.”
Peter Brown opened the door before either of them had time to knock. “Jack! I'm glad they sent you. I feel much safer knowing you're on the job.”
Jack shook Peter's outstretched hand. “Just remember that the next time you say I don't need a handicap on the golf course.” He motioned at Jo standing silently beside him. “Peter, this is Detective Constable Jo Boston-Wright. Jo, meet Peter Brown, owner of Stonehaven Manor Golf Club.”
Jo nodded curtly. “We'll need to see the crime scene, Mr. Brown. Once forensics gets here, we’ll start interviewing witnesses.”
“But there were no witnesses,” Peter said. “Kristie kept to herself.”
“Even so, we need to interview anyone who was staying at the Manor at the same time Miss Byrnes was.”
Jack and Jo took the stairs in unison, confidently two at a time depicting that they were on a mission. They turned toward room 205 with Jack in the lead. The door was slightly ajar, just like Carmen Brown found it this morning. Jack pushed the door open. Kristie Byrnes' lifeless body was also on the floor, just like Carmen Brown found it this morning. The only difference now was there was a man standing over her reaching toward a piece of paper clutched in her cold hand.
CHAPTER 4
Jack always acted on instinct. He reacted first and asked questions later. If that meant body-checking an innocent man, so be it. Today was one of those times.
“Get off of me, you nutter!” Robert Walsh howled. He tried to kick Jack, but he was pinned to the ground so strongly, that his legs just flailed uselessly. “I'm a reporter! I'm writing a story on the murder!”
“No one knows about the murder except the owners of the Stonehaven Manor.” Jack slammed Robert's already immobilized shoulders against the carpeted floor in an effort to knock any bravado and lies out of him. “You better talk fast or end up in the back of a police car on your way down to the station.”
“My name is Robert Walsh. I work for the Northern Star. My press badge is in my pocket.” Robert squirmed to try to indicate his right pocket. “See for yourself if you don't believe me. Kristie and I were friends. We worked in the same building and met up here by happy accident. I heard screaming this morning. I wanted to see for myself if what everyone was whispering about was true. I needed to see Kristie for myself.”
Jack rocked back on his haunches before standing up. He dragged Robert by the shirt collar along with him. “Press badge. Now.” he demanded with his left hand out, palm up.
“Jack, don't you think you're being a little, uh, harsh?” Jo's voice was high and thin. If she was less professional, she probably would be screaming 'stop that--let him go' right now instead of the slap on the wrist her tone implied. “If he says he's press--”
“He's trampling all over the crime scene.” Jack shook Robert by the collar before 'releasing him' also known as shoving him across the room. “We don't need a contaminated scene before forensics even gets here to document.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Robert rubbed his neck as if Jack's hands had been around his throat instead of his shirt. “Like I said, Kristie meant a lot to me. I lost my head, that's all. It won't happen again.” He dug out his press badge and held it out for inspection. “See? I'm press. I've covered cases for the Northern Star before, just never with you.”
“Then you've never covered a case that matters,” Jack said.
Robert adjusted his crumpled shirt. It would be harder to adjust his bruised ego. “So it seems. Look, I’m not here to cause trouble or crap all over your crime scene. I just want to make sure that Kristie gets justice, okay? If that means tagging along during your investigation, so be it.”
“What it means is you spending time in your room until we call you for an interview,” Jack barked. “Starting now.”
“Now wait just a second,” Robert protested.
“Room. Now.” Jack jerked his thumb at the door. “Jo, see Mr. Walsh out. Take his statement and then interview Carmen and Peter. I'll wait for forensics.”
“You got it, Jack.” Jo headed for the door and motioned for Robert to follow. “This way, please, Mr. Walsh.” You could cut the air with a knife and Jack’s glare confirmed it. 'Idiot people,' he thought, moving to the window for some fresh air. The staleness of murder was filling his nostrils.
Robert opened his mouth to say more before taking one look at Jack's glowering expression and thinking better of that misplaced idea. He closed his mouth with a click before turning and following Jo out the door.
Within minutes, the forensics team led by Dr. Jane Russell arrived. “Jack! We really need to stop meeting like this.” Dr. Russell held out her hand to shake. “What do you know so far?”
“The deceased is Kristie Byrnes. She was a guest at Stonehaven Manor for about a week. She planned to check out today. When she didn't come down by 11, the co-owner Mrs. Brown came to check on her.” Jack consulted his small notepad. “She found the deceased just as you see her now. We've preserved the crime scene as much as possible but some yahoo reporter thought it was a good idea to hang all over the body.”
Dr. Russell sighed at the gall of some people. Jack would call it the stupidity of some--okay, most--people. “That could be a problem.”
>
“We can get his prints so it doesn't confuse whatever you lift from the scene,” Jack offered.
“Yes. Excellent idea.” Dr. Russell knelt down by the body as the forensics team scurried around marking evidence and taking pictures. “Now let's see what Ms. Byrnes can tell us about her killer.” She placed her hands on the body, lightly checking for bruises or other marks on Kristie. She skimmed from head to toe while Jack waited patiently for clues. “Bingo,” Dr. Russell breathed as she lifted Kristie's hair away from the back of her neck to reveal a grid-like imprint on the back of her head.
“What have ya got?” Jack asked.
“The victim died between ten and twelve hours ago,” Dr. Russell said. “That puts the murder between 10 p.m. and midnight last night into early morning. Cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma.” She motioned at the grid-like crisscross seared into the back of her neck. “The weapon is a golf club more than likely judging by this crisscross pattern.”
“That's not surprising since we're at a golf club.”
Dr. Russell stood, removed her plastic gloves, and threw them into a small, portable bin they used for crime scenes. “I'll be able to confirm the findings after the autopsy is complete. For now, I hope that is enough to get you moving in the right direction.”
Jack nodded. “Once Jo gets the witness interviews out of the way, we’ll have even more to go on. Thank you, Dr. Russell.”
Dr. Russell watched as her team turned the room into a collection of bright yellow evidence markers and endless flashes of light from cameras ready to document everything that was left of this poor girl's life. “It's sad, isn't it? When we're called in for young ones like Kristie, I mean. She had so much left to do--to achieve. Instead all that ended in a hotel room over who knows what.”
“It's all part of the job, Jane,” Jack reminded her. “You can't wax nostalgia now. You'll never sleep at night if you think about all the people missing their daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, wives, mothers, husbands, and fathers. It's not practical. You need to keep your distance. If you don't, you’re in the wrong line of work.”
“She's about your daughter's age, isn't she?” Dr. Russell asked. “Can you imagine standing over Melissa's body instead of Kristie Byrnes?”
Jack closed his eyes. He could imagine it. He could imagine it all too well. He was sure he had made enemies over the years. It was only a matter of time before one of them tried to retaliate. Everyone knew the way to crumble a cop was to go after his family. That was one reason why Jack lived apart from his wife and daughter. The less opportunity vengeful crooks had to retaliate, the better. He told himself he was doing what was best for all of them. He never wanted to reach a day where the body he was standing over was his own daughter's instead of someone else’s.
Jack snapped himself back into the real world and re-focused on the job at hand; grateful for the out of body experience but at the same time wished Dr. Russell hadn’t brought up his daughter. Some thoughts cut too close to the bone; Melissa sucked the marrow right out of them.
CHAPTER 5
“Okay. I got it. Are you sure?” Detective Constable Jo Boston-Wright held her mobile phone to her ear with one hand and scribbled notes on a small spiral notebook with the other as Jack rattled off what Dr. Russell discovered during her examination of the scene. “Died between 10 p.m. and midnight. Likely weapon is a golf club,” Jo repeated. “I'm going to keep the golf club detail under wraps and see if anyone slips up. It's not something that our Mr. Robert Walsh could have seen just by standing over her like he did, is it? No? Good. I'll call you as soon as I'm through with the interviews.”
Jo rung off and stuffed her phone in her back pocket. A snug fit not unnoticed by the other male officers. She had isolated everyone who had any known interaction with Kristie Byrnes during her stay at Stonehaven Manor. She planned to take statements one by one and then compare notes with Jack.
He had the easy part hanging out with Dr. Russell and forensics. The dead don't talk back or hide secrets like the living. Jo sighed. Why did she always get the interviews whenever they were on a case? Jack played 'bad cop' so much better than she did. People were intimidated by him. People just wanted to buy her a drink and call her 'sweetheart.' Jo chewed on her bottom lip. Well, that was about to change. Get ready for bad cop Jo. She wasn't going to let anyone take her any less seriously because she was a woman ever again. Up first was Carmen Brown.
Carmen looked up when Jo entered the sitting room. “Can I get you anything to drink, Detective Constable? Tea? Coffee?”
“Always the consummate hostess,” Jo said. “Thank you, but no.” She sunk down into the plush MacGregor-tartan patterned chair across from the couch Carmen was curled up on. Carmen's eyes were huge--haunted. Jo imagined she probably looked the same way after she saw her first dead body.
Carmen spread her hands in front of her and stared at her palms as if expecting the answers to Jo's upcoming questions to be written on them. “What happens next? I never thought I'd be in a situation like this.”
“No one ever does.” Jo said. “It's a bit like learning how to walk. Just put one foot in front of the other and you'll be fine. In this case, just put one word in front of the other until you don't have anything else to say about the situation.” Jo glanced down at her notebook and readied her pen. “Just start at the beginning. What can you tell me about the deceased?”
Carmen shuttered. “Deceased. I hate that word. It makes it all so...final.”
“Just tell me anything you think is of importance,” Jo coaxed. “When she checked in, how she spent her time, who she spent her time with. All that can go a long way in narrowing our list of suspects.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise.” Jo motioned at Carmen. “Start anytime, please.”
Carmen took a deep breath. “Kristie checked in a week ago. She's not a Club member but we don't let that stop people from staying if they want to stay. We do weekly rates so I didn't really think anything of it. I thought she just wanted a bit of a holiday and she'd go back to wherever she came from and that would be in the end of it. She paid in cash up front.”
“Did you find that suspicious at all?” Jo asked. “Don't you usually need a credit card to reserve a room?”
“If you're making a reservation in advance, yes,” Carmen said. “Kristie walked in and asked if we had any vacancy. This is our slower time for the Manor. Mostly locals on the course and not out-of-towners, so we had several rooms free. She specifically requested a suite because a friend was supposed to meet up with her.”
“And did she?”
Carmen shook her head. “He. Kristie's friend she was meeting was a he. That reporter fellow Robert Walsh to be exact.”
Jo scribbled furiously in her notebook. “How well did they know each other?”
“Well enough to want adjoining rooms and be seen together at all hours of the day and night,” Carmen said. “If that's how she treats her friends, I don't want to know how she behaves in public with that husband of hers.”
“I was told that Kristie was divorced?”
Carmen shrugged. “That's the story she floated around but that's not what the village gossips say. The divorce was in the works but not final.”
“Do you believe she planned beforehand to meet Mr. Walsh here? Or that she left her husband for him?”
“That you'll have to ask him about.”
“I will, but I also need to ask you.” Jo watched Carmen for several beats, trying to read her dazed expression to determine if it was sincere or all an act. “From what you observed, what is your opinion of their relationship?”
“I think Kristie and Mr. Walsh were far more than 'just friends.'”
Jo leaned closer, her hands resting on her knees. “Did you hear anything between the hours of 10 p.m. and midnight yesterday?”
Carmen mulled it over before shaking her head. “No, but Peter always says I sleep like the dead...no dis
respect intended. He came to bed much later than I. Perhaps he heard something?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brown. You can go now. Please send your husband in for questioning.”
Carmen nodded, stood, and shuffled out of the sitting room. Peter Brown almost immediately took her place on the couch across from Jo.
“Do you need to read me my rights or anything, Detective Constable?”
Jo smiled humorlessly. “Not unless you committed the crime, Mr. Brown.”
He frowned. “No, no, I just don't know the procedure, that's all.”
“Funny, your wife said the exact same thing.” Jo looked at Mr. Brown to see if he was about to drop his guard.
“Do you suspect us of teaming up or colluding or whatever some such nonsense you want to call it?” He waved his hands in a flapping, agitated motion. “We don't run that sort of establishment, Detective. We don't look the other way if something underhanded is happening under our roof.”
“Do you play golf, Mr. Brown?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “I run a golf club. I golf once a month with your partner Jack.”
“Where do you keep your golf clubs?”
“In the Club locker room like everyone else.” Peter frowned. “What are you getting at, Detective Constable?”
“What time did you go to sleep last night, Mr. Brown?” Jo kept the questions coming at a rapid fire pace to keep him off guard.
“Half past midnight. I was prepping today's menu.” His frown deepened. “If you're trying to accuse me of something, Detective Constable, go ahead and accuse me. Don't just shoot questions at me hoping something will hit the mark.”
“Did you hear anything suspicious from the victim's room between the hours of 10 pm and midnight?”
