Real Murder (Lovers in Crime Mystery Book 2) (15 page)

“Do you believe that?” Cameron turned to Joshua to ask.

Before he could answer, one of the sheriff’s deputies came in with a report in his hand. “Where’s Sawyer?” he asked Joshua, who motioned to the interrogation room next door. “He’s going to want to see this.” The deputy handed the report to Joshua. “I guess you will, too.”

Joshua’s brow furrowed while reading the printed notice.

“What is it?” Cameron asked.

“Forensics got a hit on the fingerprints from the cell phone and medallion.”

“That’s good.”

“No, it’s not,” Joshua said. “They were a match for Congresswoman Rachel Hilliard.” He slapped the report against his thigh. “Tanner says someone hired him to hit Dolly Houseman. The owner of the Blue Moon says that a few weeks ago Colonel MacRae was in there looking for someone to do a hit for someone, who he assumed to be Dolly. Tanner takes the job, but before he gets there,” a question came to his tone, “she kills Dolly herself?”

“To get Dolly out of the way while pinning the blame on someone else,” Cameron said.

“Congresswoman Hilliard did not get where she is by  being stupid,” Joshua said. “I’m thinking this is a set up all right, with Hilliard being the fall guy, or rather woman.”

“She was in town at the time of the murder,” Cameron said. “She stands to lose a whole lot if Dolly revealed that she was a hooker.”

“Really?” Joshua shook his head. “Maybe thirty years  ago, but look at Washington now. Look at the media. In today’s society, she could spin this around to make herself a role model.”

“Then maybe Dolly had something bigger on the  congresswoman,” Cameron said. “We need to find out who Dolly was blackmailing and over what.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Do I smell coffee?” Joshua awoke with a start and sat up onto his elbows to find Cameron studying pictures from a case file through a magnifying glass while propped up against the headboard.

Without saying a word, she pointed across him to where she had placed a mug on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“You think of everything.” He reached over to kiss her before grabbing his coffee mug, laying back against the  pillows, and taking the first sip of his morning coffee. While kissing her again, his eyes fell to the pictures that she  was reviewing. The photos were of a mangled and muddy red car. “What are you looking at?”

“Douglas O’Reilly’s car,” she said. “Since the investigators closed the case as a suicide, the car was destroyed decades ago. All we’ve got left are the reports and police photos. I’m hoping to find something in these pictures to help find out who killed him.”

“You’re convinced someone killed him.” He wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“There was no water in his lungs,” Cameron said. “Tad says the injuries are consistent with him being hit by a car.  I think someone dumped him and his car in the lake to  cover up an accident.”

He took the picture on top of the pile in the folder. “Let’s see what you have.”

The corners of her lips curled to form a devilish grin. “You know Douglas O’Reilly was Hunter’s grandfather, which will make him Tracy’s—”

“Don’t say it.”

“You probably also don’t want me to point out the irony that Douglas O’Reilly drove a red Mustang, and so does his grandson.”

“Coincidence.”

“Spooky.”

Joshua examined the picture of the car, which showed a deep dent on the top of the front fender. “That big dent is kind of high up, like above the wheel well.”

“There was a spanking new tire on the front driver’s side,” she said. “I think he was changing a flat tire when he was killed.”

“Can you find a close up of that dent?” Joshua took the pile of pictures.

Without searching, she handed the folder to him and reached for the mug of coffee she had on her side of the bed. “Help yourself.”

“I don’t think he was hit by a car,” Joshua said. “I think he was hit by a truck. If it was a car, the dent would be lower.” Finding the picture, he examined it through the magnifying glass. “Look at what we have.”

“What have you got?” She took the picture and magnifying glass.

“Paint transfer,” he said. “Green. You’re looking for a green truck. When did this happen?”

“September second, nineteen sixty-six,” she said.

“What do you think are the odds of that truck still  being around?”

“I’m not looking for the truck,” she said, “I’m looking for the driver who killed O’Reilly and then dumped his body in the lake to make everyone think he had killed himself.”

She searched through the stack of pictures in his lap  until she found one of the front driver’s side tire. Holding the magnifying glass over the picture, she told him, “Look at this. Don’t these dark marks on the hubcap look like tire impressions to you—like someone ran over the hubcap—like maybe when it was lying along the side of the road while Douglas was changing the tire? Then, his killer put the hubcap back on the wheel while cleaning up his mess.”

“Very good theory.” Joshua agreed with a frown. “But without any tires to compare them to, it’s going to be impossible to make a case against O’Reilly’s killer.”

“Douglas’ family needs closure, Josh.”

“And I have no doubt but that you’ll find some way of giving it to them. Even if you can’t get a conviction in court,  at least you’ll get answers for them. That’s the important thing.” Joshua grasped her by the back of the neck and kissed her. “Thank you for the coffee, my love.”

“Thank you for finding the paint transfer, my darling.” Tossing the folder onto the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Before she could slip under the covers, there was a knock at the bedroom door. With a groan, she dropped back onto the bed.

“Who is it?” Joshua called out.

“Dad,” Tracy replied, “there’s a delivery man downstairs with a package for you and he needs your signature.”

“I’ll be right down.” He shrugged his shoulders when Cameron slipped away from him to the other side of the bed.

“What’s that about?” As if she feared Tracy listening  outside the door, Cameron asked him in a whisper while  he put on his bathrobe and slipped his feet into his slippers.

“Probably something from the courthouse,” he muttered. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He reached across  the bed to grab one last kiss from her.

“You’ve got five minutes and then I’m starting without you.” Giggling, she pulled the covers up under her chin.

Downstairs, Joshua opened the front door to find the deliveryman on the porch. Clutching an oversized tan envelope and tablet to his chest, he stood motionless while staring wide-eyed in the direction of the steps leading down to his truck in the driveway.

“I’m Joshua Thornton. I understand you have a package that needs my signature.”

The deliveryman nodded his head very slightly while  saying in a hoarse whisper, “Quiet.”

“Why?” Joshua asked.

With a jerk of his head, he motioned toward the porch steps. With a deep sigh, Joshua stepped out to see what had the man so terror-stricken. Squatting down with his front paws tucked up under him, Irving was enjoying the morning sun in a spot directly between the deliveryman and his truck.

“It’s a skunk,” the deliveryman whispered. “And he’s a big one. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Be very quiet. Whatever you do, don’t move. Don’t move a muscle.”

With a shake of his head, Joshua snatched the package out of his arms and waved it in Irving’s direction. “Irving, stop scaring people and go catch a mouse or something.”

In contrast to the volume of Joshua’s firm order, Irving took his time standing up and arching his back in a long leisurely stretch. He then sauntered in the direction of the open door. The deliveryman leapt back to the other end of the porch while the cat casually strolled inside. As if to taunt the deliveryman, he jerked up his tail once his rear was facing him, an action that prompted a scream. The deliveryman covered his face with his arm. With a dreamy expression on his face, Irving took his time rubbing the length of his body along the doorway until he was inside.

“He actually lives here?” he asked while Joshua signed the tablet.

“His name is Irving, but if he likes you, he lets you call him Irv.” Joshua closed the door. Spotting Irving sitting up tall in the foyer, he shook his finger at him. “You are a bad cat. I think you enjoy looking like a skunk and scaring people.”

Irving stood up, turned around, and hitched his tail in Joshua’s direction before sauntering down the hallway to the kitchen. It was his feline version of an obscene gesture.

“Same to you.”

While climbing the stairs, Joshua read the return address: Dolly Houseman, Rock Springs Boulevard, Chester, West Virginia. The postmark was from the day before—the day after her murder.

He was so enthralled by the envelope and so anxious to open it up that he had to remind himself to watch the steps going back upstairs to the bedroom.

“What is it?” Cameron asked when he came inside and kicked the door behind him while studying the delivery.

“A package from Dolly.”

“Dolly?”

“Mailed yesterday,” he said.

“She was dead yesterday.”

“I know that,” he said. “I found her body. Remember?”

“Of course I do.”

“Obviously, someone mailed this for her,” he said. “I’ll bet it was her lawyer. She must have left this with instructions to mail to me upon her death.”

Cameron threw back the covers and crawled to the foot of the bed where Joshua sat down. “Open it.” Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she rested her head against the  side of his to peer at the package.

He slipped his finger under the seal and tore open the oversized envelope, which contained four thick brown  envelopes. A handwritten letter was taped to the top one.

Joshua only had to glance at the handwriting before  saying, “This is from Dolly all right.”

“What does it say?” Cameron attempted to reach for the letter.

“She sent it to me.” Joshua playfully jerked it out of her reach.

Unable to get the letter, she took one of the envelopes. In a shaky hand, the name of Commissioner Russell Null was written across the front of it. Beneath it, she had written, “Newell, West Virginia.”

Joshua grasped her hand to prevent her from slipping her finger under the seal and ripping open the envelope. “Wait. Let me read the letter to see what this says,” he said. “We may need to open this in front of Sheriff Sawyer so that we have witnesses to confirm that we aren’t tampering with or planting evidence.”

“Spoken like a lawyer,” she sighed.

“Do you want Dolly’s killer to get away when we find him?”

“No.” Mocking a snit, she slipped out of the bed and put on her bathrobe. “Just for that, I’m going to drink your coffee.”

“It has no cream or sugar in it,” he said with a grin. She only drank coffee with two sugars and two creams.

She picked up the mug that he had left on the end table. “I’ll suffer to make you suffer.” Instead, she handed the mug to him.

While taking a sip, he finished reading the letter. “Okay, do you want to know what Dolly tells me in this letter?”

“She tells us who killed her … from the grave?”

“Something like that.” Getting up, he placed the mug on the end table. “Dolly says that there were many secret meetings in the parlor at the club over the decades and that the albums that she has—had—”

“Gave to me,” Cameron said.

Joshua nodded his head. “If you look through them they have a lot of history of very important betrayals and even conspiracies that were organized at Dolly’s.”

“Dolly said something to me about a murder conspiracy or two.”

“Very possibly,” Joshua said. “She says that her father had set up a hidden compartment in the parlor where these meetings would take place and that he had a recorder set up to tape the meetings—that was something that he learned from her Uncle Al.”

“Al Capone,” she said.

“She says these meetings were recorded for their own protection—just in case someone decided to shut Dolly’s down or maybe cause some sort of trouble. But after Ava’s and Virgil’s murders, and after the club was shut down, Dolly decided to take advantage of the last couple of recordings for some retirement income. One of these people, Dolly says, killed Ava and Virgil. She has her suspicions but she never had any evidence to prove it, which was why she never turned this over to the police.”

“So these are recordings,” Cameron felt the padded envelope and could make out the shape of a cassette tape. “The people on these recordings were the blackmail victims. That’s where the ten-thousand dollars that she deposited every month came from.”

“Along with transcripts that Dolly had written out to document who said what during these dirty dealings.”

Cameron read the names on the envelopes. Commissioner Russell Null, Dr. Philip Lipton, Mr. Henry MacRae, and Congresswoman Rachel Hilliard. “Four divided by ten-thousand. I’ll bet she got twenty-five hundred dollars from each one of them.”

“When you calculate how much that comes to annually,” Joshua said, “it adds up to a pretty expensive motive for murder.”

“Three of these four were meeting with Sawyer at Cricksters when we came in with Dolly...on the same day that she was murdered.” With a gasp, she recalled, “and she said something very weird—right about the time that Philip Lipton dumped his drink in Sawyer’s lap.”

“What did she say?”

Cameron paused to think. “Have you forgotten that I have a concussion?”

“How convenient.”

“She said that even though she was old and she had trouble remembering what she ate for breakfast, she could recall what happened years ago, and who did it, and—and then Lipton dumped his drink in Sawyer’s lap.”

“And Lipton checked out those case files for Ava’s and Virgil’s murders right after Mike disappeared,” Joshua said.

“We need to talk to Lipton,” she said.

“But first,” Joshua said, “we call Sawyer and have him come over to witness us opening these envelopes and have him listen to these tapes with us.”

Chapter Eighteen

After showering and dressing, Cameron went downstairs in hopes of finding one of Tracy’s delectable breakfasts waiting. Instead, she found Donny eating a plate of toaster waffles slathered in maple syrup. While refilling her coffee mug, she noticed an over-packed document box set at one end of the kitchen table. With notepads and folders overflowing beyond the rim, the lid rested sloppily on top.

“That’s some heavy-duty homework, isn’t it?” she asked in a good-natured tone.

“I’m on summer break now,” Donny said before explaining the box. “Hunter brought it over. His mom gave it to him last night. It was his dad’s stuff that she had packed up from his desk. Hunter wants Dad to go through it with him to see if they can find something to help him find his killer.”

“Is Hunter here?”

“He took Tracy out for breakfast and then they’re going to look at engagement rings,” he said between bites of waffles. “They’re moving kind of fast, aren’t they? Kind of reminds me of you and Dad.”

“Actually, they’re not.” Her hopes for a gourmet breakfast dashed, she opened the refrigerator door and peered inside to see if any meal ideas struck her. “They’ve been quote-unquote-dating for years.”

“Why’d they keep it a secret?”

“Maybe they didn’t.” She wondered if she wanted  scrambled eggs badly enough to clean up the mess it would create cooking them. “Maybe y’all just weren’t paying enough attention to notice.” The answer was no, she did not want scrambled eggs that much.

Donny was silent while she continued to stare into the  refrigerator and pray for inspiration. Eventually, with a thought-filled drawl, he said, “She did go out with him every time they were both in town, but I thought they were going out as friends. I mean, they’ve never been kissy face like you and Dad.”

“Your dad and I are not kissy face.”

“I never caught the two of them naked down in the family room.”

“There’s more to a committed relationship than sex,” she said.

“I know,” Donny said with a sad sigh. “So far, I haven’t experienced either.”

“That’s good.”

She was still staring into the refrigerator when Joshua came in. Grasping her shoulders with both hands from  behind, he kissed her on the cheek. When she didn’t respond, he looked at her and then into the open refrigerator to see what she was staring at before reaching inside and taking a grapefruit from the fruit drawer. “Grapefruit is easy,” he said.

“But I really want some carbs.”

“Then eat some.”

“Then I’d have to clean up the kitchen.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” he said with a cock of his head and an arched eyebrow. He took a dish out of the cupboard. “I’ll give you half.”

With a resigned sigh and shrug of her shoulders, she  took juice out of the fridge and poured two glasses.

A knock at the front door prompted Admiral to jump up from where he was lying under the table and bump his head. With a screech, Irving leapt from where he was sunning  himself on a windowsill and followed Admiral in the direction of the foyer.

Joshua checked the clock on the wall. “That can’t be Curt. I only spoke to him ten minutes ago.”

“There’s only one way to find out who it is. Answer the door.” Donny pushed back his chair and rose from the table.

As if to urge his master to hurry up, Admiral raced back into the doorway to escort Donny to the foyer. The huge mongrel uttered his loud, deep barks along the way. Irving accompanied his barking with high-pitched shrieks.

“No one will ever be able to sneak into this house,” Cameron said.

“That’s the way I like it.” Joshua cut through the grapefruit with a knife and separated the halves into two bowls, which Cameron had set out on plates. After he cut the fruit into sections with a paring knife, she sprinkled it with sugar, carried the plates to the kitchen table, and turned back to hand Donny’s dirty plate and juice glass to him.

Joshua was placing the dishes in the sink when Donny returned to the kitchen with Hunter Gardner’s stepfather directly behind him. “Dad, Mr. Fontaine wanted to talk to you,” Donny explained. “I’m heading out to meet some friends. We’re going four wheeling in the park. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Surprised by the visit from Royce Fontaine, a man who had never had reason to come to his home before, Joshua turned around, leaned back against the counter, and took his time drying his hands on the dishtowel.

“What are you going to do about lunch?” Cameron asked Donny before he had a chance to gallop up the back stairs to his room to gather his stuff for the outing.

“Pizza or buffalo wings or both at Roma’s,” he replied. “Most likely both. I’ll put it on Dad’s tab.” With the energy that comes with youth, Donny rushed up the stairs.

Joshua wondered if his son was rushing to go meet his friends or to escape what he suspected was coming. While taking his time drying his hands on the dishtowel, he  studied Royce Fontaine’s temper simmering beneath the  surface. Possibly calculating on how best to proceed, his guest was waiting to launch into the purpose of his visit. “Would you like some coffee, Royce?”

“No, thanks.” The visitor stood up as tall as his stooped-over frame would allow him and jutted out his chin.

Sensing that it would be best to get straight to business, Joshua asked, “What can I do for you, Royce?”

“I’m sure you heard the news … about Hunter and your daughter, Tracy.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Belle is very upset about it,” Royce said. “Now, nothing against Tracy. She’s a very nice girl. Lovely. But don’t you think this timing is the worst? We’re still trying to get Mike’s body released by the medical examiner—” He pointed his finger at Joshua. “—your cousin Doc MacMillan, I might add.”

“You may add that.”

“And then for those two kids—they’re only kids—Belle thinks they’re too young. They hardly know each other—”

“They went all through high school together,” Joshua said. “They’ve kept in touch all through college.”

“You
approve of this?”

Joshua was aware of Cameron’s eyes on him. She was waiting for his answer. No one had yet to ask him if he did approve. It took a full moment for him to come to an answer.

“Yes, I give them my blessing,” Joshua said. “Hunter’s father was my best friend growing up. Hunter has a good head on his shoulders. He’s shown nothing but respect for my daughter.” He stood up straight. “It would be an honor to have him in my family.”

Royce’s face twisted with emotion. “You have no idea what you’re doing!”

“Yes, I do,” Joshua replied. “I’m counting my blessings. Do you know how many jerks there are out there? I see them every day in my job. Just this week Cameron caught a monster who raped and killed his girlfriend in front of her young son. The world is full of monsters, Royce! I pray every night that they don’t gobble up any of my children. Yes, ideally,  I would have liked Tracy to be a few years older and  settled before marrying anyone. Obviously, that wasn’t God’s plan. But considering that He has chosen a good man like Hunter … yes, to answer your question, Royce, yes, I know exactly what I’m doing and …” he pointed at Royce, “if you’re smart, you’ll give them your blessing, too. You’re right, Tracy is a lovely young woman, and you and Belle should be proud to have her for a daughter-in-law.”

Royce gritted his teeth. He worked his jaw before  responding in a tone that rang of forced calm. “Look at it from
Belle’s
point of view.”

“If this is so important to her, why isn’t she here?” Cameron interjected to ask.

“She’s too upset,” Royce said quickly. “I—we thought this whole thing with Mike was over. He’d been declared dead.”

“He is dead,” Cameron said, “because someone killed him.”

“And now Hunter has it in his head that he’s going to find his father’s killer.”

“Do you blame him?” Joshua asked.

“Like there’s any chance of that happening,” Royce said. “Hunter is upsetting his mother, asking her over and over again the same questions about what his father was doing those last few days before he disappeared. What did he say? Who did he call? Who did he talk to? Where did he go? He’s putting her into an emotional blender. She’s snapping at me. She can’t sleep at night. She’s been taking sedatives every day since this all came up.”

“If you were murdered and your body was dumped in a lake for twenty years, wouldn’t you want your family doing everything they could to find your killer?” Cameron asked.

“Not if it was going to drive them crazy,” Royce shot back. “Belle had moved on. She’s with me.” He pounded his chest with his fist. “After years of waiting and hoping— taking chances—doing whatever it took—I finally won the only woman I have ever loved, and she was mine. Everything was perfect!”

“Until Mike’s body showed up,” Cameron said.

“Yes!”

“And your apple cart has been toppled over,” she said.

“We can’t not investigate Mike’s murder, Royce,” Joshua said. “I’m sorry you’re upset—”

“Not me. Belle.”

Joshua and Cameron exchanged knowing grins.

“Belle,”
Joshua corrected himself. “But the law dictates that Mike’s murder must be investigated, and when we find the killer, I intend to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.”

“And it goes without saying that since Hunter is now going to be your son-in-law, you’re going to work with him on this,” Royce said.

“This case was personal to me even before Hunter and Tracy got engaged,” Joshua said. “Their engagement only gives me additional personal motivation.”

Royce let out a sigh that sounded like a bull snorting before charging. “And now, this woman that we never even knew existed has left Hunter all this money and he’s running off and getting married and leaving me with his mother on the brink of a breakdown.”

“Maybe if I talk to Belle,” Joshua offered.

“No!” Royce shouted.

Neither of them was prepared for his abrupt outburst.

Everyone in the kitchen was still.

Even Irving had stopped grooming himself where he was sprawled out in the floor in a sunbeam.

“Belle just wants to be left alone,” Royce said. “I think that’s best for now.”

Arching an eyebrow, Joshua glanced over at Cameron, who was cocking her head in Royce’s direction.

Royce Fontaine was a man with an agenda.

Joshua let out a deep sigh. “Royce … what do you want me to do? I’m not going to split Hunter and Tracy up. I’m unable to put an end to Mike’s murder investigation. What do you want from me?”

Royce’s eyes narrowed. He then turned to glare at Cameron, who cocked an eyebrow in his direction while waiting for an answer.

Joshua folded his arms across his chest. With questions about the true motivation of Royce’s visit, his expression changed from perplexed to suspicious.

The tension in the room became so thick that it was suffocating.

Royce spun on his heels and stomped out of the kitchen. Seconds later, they heard the front door slam.

After a long silence, Cameron asked, “Has he always been like that?”

“Strange? Yes,” Joshua murmured while replaying Royce’s unusual visit in his mind. “That strange? No.”

Cameron turned to the box resting on the kitchen table. “Mike was missing for how long? Why did Hunter just bring this box of stuff from his desk
now?
”

“What?” Her question startled Joshua out of his stare at the spot Royce had been standing.

Cameron pointed with the spoon from her grapefruit to the box resting on the table. “Hunter brought that over this morning when he picked up Tracy. It’s his father’s stuff that his mother gave him from his desk. Where has it been all these years? Why didn’t Belle give it to you before?”

It was the first time Joshua had noticed the box. “Good question.”

Cameron abandoned her less-than-satisfying grapefruit to join him at the other end of the kitchen table.

Joshua tossed the top aside and peered inside at stacks of folders filled with papers. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and  Mike’s notebook will be in here,” he said. “I doubt it. Officers carry their notebooks with them to take notes while interviewing witnesses. It would have been in the cruiser.”

“But this was his own personal case.” Cameron reached into the box to remove a stack of used yellow legal pads that had been placed upright on their side against the long side of the box. “He may have kept his notes at home, especially if he didn’t want the sheriff to know that he was working on a murder case involving Dolly’s.”

A slow grin crossed her face when she noticed the blank page on the top of the used notepad. “He did the same thing I do.” She flipped back the first page to reveal handwritten notes. “I leave the top sheet blank and start on the second page. Then, when I’m done, I flip it over so that someone walking past my desk can’t read what I’ve been working on.”

She flipped the top sheet back over. “But this top sheet isn’t blank. There’s a note scribbled on it.” She turned it around for Joshua to read. “Friday, four pm T R Park.”

“T R Park is Tomlinson Run Park. He disappeared on a Friday.” He took the notebook to observe that the “4” had a single slash through it and a “1” written in the line above it. “Looks like the meeting was originally scheduled for four o’clock and then changed.”

“I wonder which of them changed it,” she asked. “Maybe the confidential informant got nervous that someone was on to him and that’s what got Mike killed.”

“We need to find that CI.” Joshua flipped through the stack of folders. “These are copies of reports from case files.” He read the name across the top of the page. “It’s an accident report for a single car accident. The driver was killed. A woman. Her name was Sabrina Collins.”

“Died March tenth, nineteen eighty-two,” Cameron said.

Joshua looked at her.

She turned the notepad around for him to read. “It’s a list of names, followed by a ‘D’ and a date.” She counted the list, which totaled eight names. The last one, listed as “Rachel,” had no date beside it.

Joshua set the folder aside and went to the next one on the pile. “This is a suicide in Columbus, Ohio. Drug overdose for a woman named Morgan Bates.”