DEAD SET: Detective Jack Creed Mysteries - The Complete Short Stories Collection: 7 Book Box Set (Detective Jack Creed Murder Mystery Books Series 9)

by C T Mitchell

  Peter though it over before nodding slowly. “Now that you mention the time, I do remember hearing a scream coming from Kristie's room. It was muffled, but it was definitely a scream.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “I'm not buying this just friends story Walsh is trying to sell us,” Jack said as he and Jo drove to Lismore the next day. They had tracked down Kristie Byrnes’ only living family member--a sister--and also her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Both lived in Lismore not far from where Kristie worked. Jack had a rookie at the station check out the civil court records to follow up on the abusive spouse angle. In the last year, Kristie had filed domestic violence police reports six times – one for every month till she moved out and filed for divorce. The rookie wasn't sure where she moved to but, if Jack was a betting man, he'd bet money on-- wherever Robert Walsh lived.

  “The Northern Star's office is near where the sister and husband live,” Jo said. “We can always swing by and catch him off guard after we interview the sister.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Good news, Jo. You're finally starting to think like me.”

  Jo laughed before she ruffled her windblown, blonde hair. “I promise to not let it go to my head.”

  Jack turned down the narrow street toward where Denise Lynstrom--Kristie's sister--lived. It was a quaint little area of town where shops mixed with cottages. Brightly colored potted plants hung from the eaves of the buildings, giving the street a festive, inviting feel. People from nearby business offices mingled at outdoor cafés, gossiping about the latest news.

  Of course the news on everyone's lips was the murder at nearby Stonehaven Manor Golf Club. Though the police hadn't officially released Kristie's name yet, the gossip mill was running overtime. They didn't need an official statement to know the truth. The truth, at least in their minds, was Kristie Byrnes was murdered and the killer was still on the loose. The thought of some murderous bloke running around gave a thrill to the usually sleepy town. Of course no one thought it would happen to them. Kristie didn't believe that either till last night proved her sense of security was very, very misplaced.

  “Here we are.” Jack pulled his Mustang into a spot between two clapped-out Landcruisers with tires bigger than a small child. “Let's hope Ms. Lynstrom is more generous than whoever parked these heaps of crap on the street.”

  Jo crossed the middle and index fingers on both of her hands. “Here's hoping! Do you want me to do the talking? You can be...intimidating...at first, Jack.”

  Jack bristled at the suggestion as they climbed out of the car. “And what's wrong with intimidating?”

  “Nothing, but we want the witness to actually tell us useful information, not ask for a lawyer.”

  “Let's make a deal.” Jack clipped his police badge on the outside of his jacket. “You interview Denise Lynstrom and I'll take Gary Byrnes.”

  “Deal.” Jo double checked the address the station dug up for Denise Lynstrom before ringing the doorbell outside her cottage. The intercom buzzed almost immediately in response.

  “Who is it?”

  “Miss Lynstrom?” Jo spoke into the intercom. “It's Detective Constable Jo Boston-Wright and Detective Jack Creed. The station called to set up an interview. It's about your sister Kristie.”

  “I've said all that I care to say about Kristie.”

  “I'm sorry, but we do still need to speak with you,” Jo said. “We can do it here at your home or at the police station. The choice is yours.”

  They heard shuffling from inside before the lock clicked and the door swung open. A petite woman that looked like a brunette version of Kristie Byrnes stood in front of them.

  “Miss Lynstrom?” Jack pointed at the badge on his jacket pocket. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us. We really appreciate it.”

  “Since when did you play good cop?” Jo whispered under her breath once Denise Lynstrom turned to show them the way in.

  “Since now,” Jack said. “Enjoy the show while it lasts, Jo. It doesn't come around every day.”

  “You're telling me.”

  Denise walked them through the hallway, through the small, cozy living room, into the kitchen. She motioned at the table and chairs next to a huge bay window. The sun streamed in through the glass, bathing everything in a warm glow that belied the bad news that an officer delivered to her this morning.

  “Please. Have a seat.”

  Once everyone was seated around the table, Jack let Jo take the lead. He'd have time enough for interrogation once they met with Gary Byrnes.

  “Miss Lynstrom, I know the last thing you want to do is bring up potentially upsetting memories of your sister, but we really need you to tell us all you can about Kristie, her relationship with Gary, and anything else you think could be important to the investigation. No detail is too small. The more we know, the faster we can get justice for Kristie.”

  Denise chewed on some gum, lost in thought, before words finally tumbled out. “Growing up, Kristie had everything she ever wanted...and I mean everything. Our parents liked to pit us against each other. They thought some healthy competition was good for us. They forgot to factor in how harmful always being in competition with your sister really was. On top of that, they played favorites. Kristie could never do any wrong. Even when she started seeing that lowlife Gary Byrnes, Mum and Dad gave their stamp of approval. They didn't care if he beat the living snot out of her. As long as she married before I did, everything was cool.” Denise grew silent before shaking her head to scatter the unpleasant memories. “That's all anyone really cared about in our family. Let's one-up Denise. She married the scumbag and this is how it all ended.”

  “Do you think Gary Byrnes had a hand in Kristie's death?”

  Denise shrugged. “I wouldn't put it past him. Beating her was kind of his MO. It wouldn't take much to turn one of their standard fights into murder. Especially since she actually left him this time.”

  “There were other times?” Jo asked. “That she threatened to leave, I mean.”

  Denise waved a hand as if that would help get her words out. “Kristie was always threatening to leave Gary. I got texts at least five times a day saying how she was really going to do it this time and could I help her start over. I finally got fed up with all her talk with no action and stopped answering the texts. Then she stopped sending them. I don't know who she turned to, to listen to her own personal brand of crazy drama after that, but it wasn't me.”

  “Does the name Robert Walsh mean anything to you?”

  “Robby Walsh?” Denise's lips turned up in a wry smile. “Robby was Kristie's boyfriend all through school. I really thought they'd be the ones ending up at the altar together, not her and Gary. From what I heard, Robby didn't want to get married when we were in the 'get married before Denise' stage of our competition so they broke it off. She met Gary and the rest is history.”

  “Do you know anything about Kristie resuming her relationship with Robert Walsh recently?” Jo leaned forward, her pen poised above her notebook.

  Denise shrugged again. “Kristie and I weren't exactly on speaking terms these days. It wouldn't surprise me if she did hookup with Robby, though. You see, Kristie hated to be alone. When she finally, actually left Gary, she needed someone to take his place. Robby still carried a huge torch for her so he's the most likely candidate for the job.”

  “Did Robert play golf?” Jack asked.

  “Of course,” Denise said. “He had a locker at Stonehaven Manor Golf Club. That way he didn't have to lug his stuff back and forth to the course.”

  “Do you play golf, Miss Lynstrom?” Jo asked.

  She frowned. “Why do you ask?”

  “It's just all part of the investigation,” Jack said. “It's nothing out of the ordinary--just something we're asking everyone.”

  “In that case...yes. I even won some championships in school for it. I was pretty handy with a club.”

  Jo raised her eyebrow at Jack as they excused themselves from Denise’s house. Could a li
fetime of being one-upped by her sister finally caused Denise to crack?

  CHAPTER 7

  The further Jack drove away from Denise's little cottage near the center of Lismore that was all cute, touristy chic, the trashier the houses became. They couldn't even be called houses, really. They were more like shacks. The front porches were sagging and crooked, paint peeled off the walls in strips, and the roofs looked like a gentle, spring rain shower would cause them to come crashing in.

  “No wonder Kristie left Gary Byrnes if she went from village comfort to shantytown,” Jo said. “I would fight with him too if this is where he took me to live after we got hitched.”

  “Judging by the police reports, there’s plenty to hate about Gary Byrnes. Here we are. I'll do the talking.” Jack parked his car across the street from a shack with white, peeling paint, a sagging roof that looked like someone--possibly Gary--tried to patch, himself. Overgrown grass and weeds overtook the front yard, and broken down cars sat on cinder blocks in the driveway.

  “I really hope Gary's a mechanic,” Jo said as they picked their way through the car graveyard to the front porch.

  “Can't you read?” a voice boomed from inside the shack. “It says no trespassing. I have a gun and, believe you me; I know how to use it.”

  Jack gestured at the badge clipped to his jacket. “Funny thing, Mr. Byrnes. We have guns too and we know how to use them. The only difference is, we'd be justified on using force if you even think of firing yours at detectives.”

  “Detectives? What do a couple of detectives want with me?” Gary Byrnes stepped from the shack onto the porch. He looked like Alf from that ‘80s American sitcom, with a mop of dark, greasy hair, hands the size of hams, and wearing grubby overalls with nothing underneath. If Kristie's goal in marrying Gary was finding someone the complete opposite of Robert Walsh, she succeeded a million times over.

  “We need to ask you some questions about your wife,” Jack said.

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Let's not start off the meeting by lying, Mr. Byrnes.” Jack stepped deftly around Gary into the dark interior of the shack. “The divorce wasn't final.”

  Gary scowled. “It woulda been next month.”

  “And now you're a widower instead of a divorcé. How convenient.” Jack motioned at Jo by way of introduction. “I'm Detective Jack Creed and this is Detective Constable Jo Boston-Wright. There are a lot of questions surrounding your wife's death, Mr. Byrnes.”

  “I don't have any of the answers.”

  Gary sat down in a wooden rocking chair placed in the middle of the room. All the other furniture looked as if it had once been nice but took a beating from someone with a nasty temper. The floral sofa tipped up on both ends as if the wood frame underneath was broken. Jack was glad that Gary apparently didn't believe in light bulbs to light the dim single-room shack. He could control his composure and facial expression better in the dim light, but Jo looked absolutely horrified that anyone could live in such squalor.

  “Where were you between 10 p.m. and midnight the night before last?” Jack asked.

  Gary snorted. “Cutting right to the chase, I see. I was with some mates at the Cracked Mug in town. We were watching football. I’ve got a whole pub full of people who can vouch for me. We stayed on and closed out the place. I didn't get home till three in the morning.”

  “In the morning,” Jo blurted. “Well that explains it.”

  Gary's bushy eyebrows dipped into a stormy glower. “Explains what, chickadee?”

  “That's Detective Constable chickadee to you, mate,” Jo said. “And never mind me. You're the one with explaining to do.”

  “Can you provide us with the names and contact information for some of these mates of yours?” Jack asked. “The faster we clear your name, the faster you'll be through with us.”

  “My pleasure.” Gary rattled off names as fast as Jack could write them down. “Anything else?”

  “Do you play golf, Mr. Byrnes?” Jack held his pen poised above his small notepad.

  “Golf?” Gary burst into loud, raucous laughter. “Golf? Does it look like I play golf? Golf is for losers and tossers like that reporter Kristie was so hot for. If you ask me, I don't know why she was after him when she had a real man like me at home.”

  “Do you mean Robert Walsh?” Jack asked.

  “I don't mean Clarke Kent. Yes that wanker from the Northern Star, Rob Walsh. The guy that thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

  Jack snapped his notepad closed and stuck it in his inside coat pocket. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Byrnes. If we need anything else, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Kristie was trouble from the beginning,” Gary said as Jack and Jo were preparing to leave. “It serves her right for what happened. I'm glad she's dead. I bet I'm not the only one doing a jig in the street over the news.”

  “Considering the killer is still out there, I’m sure you're not,” Jack agreed.

  CHAPTER 8

  That night, Jack turned up the rocking Led Zepplin, which floated out of his stereo system as he headed to the kitchen to pour himself another drink. Straight scotch, single malt, no ice. For a second, he considered watering down the liquor. It was his third drink since returning to Cabarita Beach, after all. Jack barely let the thought cross his mind before vetoing it. Watering down drinks was for sissies. Knocking back a few after a long day interviewing witnesses and potential suspects helped him think, and tonight, Jack definitely needed to think. Stairway to Heaven filled the tiny two-bedroom flat; only interrupted by the crashing waves out front, that looked inviting on this moonlit night.

  There was a saying at the police station. If you didn't solve a murder within 48 hours, you never would. Witnesses no longer wanted to point fingers, details no longer stayed fresh, and the killer slipped farther and farther away. In the first 24 hours, all Jack had to show for his hard work was a victim, a cause of death, a handful of interviews and no real suspects. He knew Kristie was bashed in the head with a golf club, but not where the golf club was. He knew Peter Brown, Robert Walsh, and Denise Lynstrom played golf. Jack needed to start with examining their golf clubs. Forensics would run tests to find trace particles of blood and skin. If there was a match, they’d have their killer. If there wasn't a match, they’d need to regroup and look at it from a different angle. The answers were there. Jack just needed to find them.

  ~*~

  Jack and mornings didn't mix well. This morning was especially nasty thanks to far too much scotch, a Taj Bengal curry and unanswered questions the night before. The shrill, insistent ringing of his phone woke him from a very peaceful dream involving being fed grapes by the entire Victoria's Secret Angels' model lineup. This made Jack even gruffer than usual and whoever was on the other end of the line was about to have the piss scared out of them.

  “This better be life or death or--”

  “Jack?” Jo's voice wavered as if she thought calling him so early was a bad idea too but she lost a bet and had to dial the phone. “You're going to want to come out to Stonehaven Manor. We found something.”

  Jack sat up in bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Note to self-wear sunglasses today--even inside. “Define 'something'?”

  “We found a golf club,” Jo said. “The golf club”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Dr. Russel has already run some tests on it. It's positive for Kristie Byrnes’ blood, skin particles, and hair. We have the what, where, when, and how. Now we just need the who.”

  “I'll be there in 20 minutes.”

  Jack clicked 'end' on his phone before springing out of bed and getting dressed in record time. Usually he put time, thought, and effort into what clothes he wore, but not today. Today he grabbed whatever was closest, buttoned, zipped, grabbed his car keys and sunglasses, and was out the door. But the Hugo Boss jeans even though slightly creased still looked uber cool on Jack.

  ~*~

  “Tell me what you got.” Jack trailed aft
er Dr. Russell as she directed the forensics team to continue their search in the wooded, swampy area behind Stonehaven Manor. “When was the club found?”

  “Early this morning,” Dr. Russell said. “A local was walking his dog. He threw a stick and, instead of fetching that, the dog brought back the golf club. Part of the club had been under water at some point.”

  Jack scribbled notes furiously in his case notebook. “Do you think it was placed here? Or planted? Did someone want it to be found?”

  “More like thrown here.” Dr. Russell knelt on the ground to examine an area marked with an orange flag and yellow crime scene tape. “The only thing deliberate about this is that the perpetrator wanted to get rid of it quickly.”

  “Were you able to get any prints off the club?”

  “Unfortunately, no, but that wasn't for lack of trying. We do know it's a nine iron, though.”

  Jack tucked his notebook into his inside coat pocket. “I'll have the team search every bag of golf clubs in the entire resort looking for one with a missing nine iron if I have to.”

  “It just might come to that.” Dr. Russell stood and motioned Jack to follow her to the evidence table. “Do you remember that missing motive?”

  Jack scowled. “How could I forget?”

  “Well, when it rains it pours. We discovered that this morning too.” She picked up a small plastic storage bag with a torn piece of paper inside.

  “A lotto ticket?”

  She shook her head. “Not just any lotto ticket. A winning lotto ticket. Or at least half of one. The other half was found clutched in Kristie Byrnes’ hand. Our murder victim just won a million dollars.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Jo sucked in her breath at Dr. Russell's announcement. A million dollar winning lotto ticket. A lot of people would do a lot of things to get their hands on that kind of cash. It would be a way for Kristie to start fresh after her messy divorce from Gary was final. Maybe she'd end up on a beach somewhere far, far away sipping cocktails with Robert Walsh. They could reclaim their lost time and –