Murder to Go

"Don't get your panties in a wad. The police will argue he wore gloves."

"How long do I have?" I asked.

"For what?"

"Before he goes to trial."

"He'll be arraigned this afternoon. Probably two weeks unless he pleads. I can probably get a delay... but why?"

I licked my lips. Two weeks. "Everyone here thinks he did it, right?"

"That's where the evidence is pointing, yeah."

"So, nobody is even investigating to find out if he's innocent?"

"Ms. Wicker, I know you don't want to hear this, but this is one of the stronger cases I've seen. The police have means, opportunity, and motive. Unless a compelling piece of evidence is discovered, your friend is going to jail."

"But it makes no sense! Why would he put the hatchet in his bathroom? Why would he go for pizza like nothing had happened? And what motive? What reason could he have had to kill his girlfriend? Because they had a spat? That's crazy!"

Dena shrugged. "Only Mr. Mazerin can answer those questions."

"Not if he didn't do it!"

"Then find me something to prove he didn't. He seems to think you can. To be honest, I think you're his only hope."

I sighed and slumped back into the booth. No pressure.

"Dena. How are you doing, dear?" the woman who'd checked me in last night asked as she stopped at our table.

"Hello, Terri. How've you been?"

"Good. You in town for that Kendal Mazerin fellow?"

"Yeah. I just talked to him."

Terri shook her head, her lips pursing in obvious disgust. "It's too bad there's no death penalty in this state." I bit my tongue. I didn't want to create a scene in the diner... and I'd said the same thing myself after Figgette killed Mom. "It was terrible what happened to that poor girl," Terri continued. "Cutting her up with a hatchet! Who ever heard such a thing! And poor Greg! Can you imagine walking into your own home and finding your sister cut up like that?"

"Her brother found her?" I asked. Terri seemed to know what was going on and I was desperate for any information I could get.

"Yes. He's the one that called the police. He was such a good brother. They were twins you know, and very close. All they had was each other, and Greg, he was very protective of Melina. Terrible what happened to their parents."

"What happened to their parents?" I asked.

Terri smiled and made shooing motions with her hands until I scooted over to make room. She squeezed in beside me, obviously warming to the subject.

"They were out on Lake Superior one fall. They own a place in Grand Lakes, across the lake in Minnesota. They were coming back one night and something happened. Nobody knows what, but they just disappeared. Paul, the father, called in and said they were having engine trouble, but he thought they could limp their boat back, and that was the last anyone heard from them. Their boat was never found and is assumed sunk. Big ol' twin engine thing. Most people around here think it caught fire from a fuel leak or something like that."

"So they took a boat across the lake instead of driving around?" I asked.

Terri nodded. "A hundred miles by boat, almost three hundred by car. They'd been doing it for years."

"How long ago was this?"

Terri paused. "It'll be three years this fall. Left a fortune to those kids. The Riis's own a lot of timber land around here and over in Minnesota."

I perked up. Money. I'd found out the hard way that people would kill for money. "How old was Melina?"

"Twenty. What a shame, to be killed so young. Those kids had it rough. They were seventeen when their parents died. The state tried to take them into the foster system, but they managed to delay that until they turned eighteen."

"And she was rich?"

Terri smiled as she shook her head. "Would have been. I don't know all the details, but there's a trust holding the assets until she and Greg get to a certain age. Probably twenty-one or twenty-five I'd guess."

Suddenly I had someone that seemed like a much better suspect than Ken. "Nobody suspected foul play in her parent's deaths?"

Terri shook her head. "Not with the radio call. Just another tragic loss of a boat on Superior. A boat was sent out to look for them when they didn't report in, but nothing was found. No wreckage, nothing." She paused for dramatic effect. "It was like it just disappeared," she added, pitching her voice so she sounded like she was telling ghost stories.

"You don't think the loss of Melina's parents and Melina being killed are related, do you?" I asked.

"Why would they be related?"

"For the money?"

"Goodness, child! You watch too many television shows!" Terri said and laughed. "The only people that stood to gain anything by their death were Melina and Greg, and they would have gotten it all anyway. As it is, they got a little to live on, and their college paid for, but it wasn't like they got this big pile of money they could go out and spend. Most of the inheritance went into their trust. Furthermore, Greg and Melina were here when it happened. How could they have tinkered with the boat? After all, Paul and Lisa made it the hundred miles across the lake just fine the first time. Paul grew up on the lake. He was too smart to start out across open water like that if he knew the boat had a problem."

I slumped. Put like that, it sounded pretty far-fetched. "I just can't believe Ken did it."

Terri stared at me a moment, her eyes wide. "You know him?"

"Yeah. I've known him for years. He'd never do something like this."

"That's not what the police are saying."

I spun my glass between my fingers on the table. "Well, I think they're wrong."

"Why? Because he said he didn't do it?" Terri asked, her tone chilly.

"That, and because I know the kind of man he is. None of this makes sense to me. The hatchet, the pizza, none of it."

"Well, nobody around here did it," Terri said with a sniff. "Everybody loved the Riiss, and the town kind of took Greg and Melina under its wing after what happened to their parents. We've looked out for them."

I glanced around the diner. "It seems to me everybody around here has already decided Ken is guilty."

Terri shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

"What about innocent until proven guilty," I snapped.

Dena, who'd been watching us as Terri told her story responded before Terri could. "He'll get a fair trial, Ms. Wicker. I'll make sure of that," Dena said.

"Even you think he's guilty!"

Dena shrugged. "Not my place to judge, but the facts of the case are pretty damning."

I pouted. Nobody was listening to me. The entire town, from the police all the way down to Ken's own lawyer, had tried and convicted him already. They thought they had their man, and nobody was looking any farther, but the entire case reeked to me. With what I knew about Ken, none of it made sense. There had to be another explanation! I just had to find it.

"Nobody thinks it's odd that Ken killed his girlfriend, left her where her brother would easily find her, put the murder weapon in his bathroom, and drove off to pick up pizza like he didn't have a care in the world?"

The older woman sniffed again as she slid out of the booth. She clearly wasn't pleased that I was contradicting her. "What I find strange is why anyone can't see what's staring them right in the face. I don't know why he killed Melina, and then did what he did, and I don't care. I hope he gets everything that's coming to him." She turned and stomped away without a backwards glance.

I sighed. "Why is everyone so sure it's Ken. I don't get it."

Dena smiled. "Gardner is a small place. Everyone knows everyone. They're like family."

"Are you from here?"

"No. I live in Eustice."

"But you know her. Mrs...?" I remembered the woman from the motel last night, but couldn't recall her name, even though I knew Dena had said the name not ten minutes before.

"Salada. Terri Salada," Dena supplied. "Yeah. When I have to stay over in Gardner for some reason, I stay at the Star Bright Inn. It's the only motel within fifty miles."

I smiled tightly. "I noticed."

"Don't be too hard on the locals. They're good people. They look after their own. This is the first murder in town in forever and everyone is still in shock."

I nodded. "I can understand that, but it still bothers me that everyone is so sure its Ken when the evidence is circumstantial at best."

The attorney's eyes narrowed. "I'd hardly say that," she said, her tone pleasant but cool. "If they'd found the bloody hatchet in the trunk of his car, would you consider that circumstantial?"

I pursed my lips. I'd clearly offended her in some way. "No, I guess not."

"Then legally, this is the same thing. They found the murder weapon in the room he was sharing with Melina. She obviously didn't put it there. You seem to think everyone is trying to railroad your friend, and I'm telling you they're not."

"I'm not saying they are. I just don't know why they're so sure it's him."

Dena leaned forward. "Forget you know Mr. Mazerin and put yourself in the jury box. You're arguing that he couldn't have done it because he's a nice guy, didn't own a hatchet of his own, and wouldn't have left for pizza, right?"

I slumped. That was harsh, but fundamentally, that was my point. "Yeah," I murmured.

Dena nodded in agreement. "Now, I'll argue that without his fingerprints on the murder weapon, and none of the victim's blood on his person, it's possible he isn't the killer. Sound reasonable?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"The state will argue that he wore gloves and washed up afterward and changed clothes. Further, the prosecution will argue that he left for the pizza for the sole excuse of trying to establish an alibi, that he intended to return to the Riis residence, find the body, and report it to the police. They will point out that the murder weapon was in his room and he'd been seen arguing with her earlier in the day. Now, who do you think has the stronger case?"

"I understand," I said, looking down. I hadn't touched my burger, but I wasn't hungry anymore. I forced my gaze up. "But why did he leave the murder weapon in his room? Why didn't he clean it up and put it back where he found it? It seems rather stupid to leave the weapon where it would be found, and Ken is far from stupid."

Dena bobbed her head in agreement. "Good questions. I intend to bring them up. But the prosecution will argue two things. First, it doesn't matter why he left the weapon in his bathtub. The second is, that in his rush to get an alibi, he forgot it was there."

I slumped even lower in the booth. If I were honest with myself, I could see Dena's points. "Yeah, okay. I just know he didn't do it."

The attorney nodded in sympathy. "If you're that sure he didn't do it, then you need to convince the police they have the wrong man. Either that, or find something that proves someone else did it, or proves Ken couldn't have done it. Give me something to work with."

I hardened my resolve. My gift was my only hope. If only I knew how to use it! "I'll do what I can."

Dena grinned. "Go get'em, girl. Just be careful. I don't want to have to represent you in an obstruction of justice case."

I smiled, but there was no humor in it. I'd been here before, but this time I didn't have a friendly face on the police force. I was on my own, and if I ran afoul of the police, I wouldn't be able to help Ken. I knew Ken's only hope was my secret superpower, but only if I could figure out how to use it!

"Is there anything you can do to help me? Talk to the police? Anything?"

She shook her head. "No. Don't forget, the police and I are on opposite sides of this case. Legally, they have to give me all the evidence against Mr. Mazerin, but there is no way they're going to help me punch holes in their case." She leaned across the table, and I did the same. "I can funnel the information to you, but that's the best I can do."

"That's a start," I murmured.

"You need to keep that to yourself. It's not illegal, but I don't think the prosecution or the judge will look kindly on me handing over information to a member of the public."

"I understand. You can trust me. The last thing I want is to bias the judge against you, or Ken."

She smiled as she leaned back. "Good. So long as we understand each other. If you stab me in the back with the police, I'll cut off the flow of information and Mr. Mazerin will have to take his chances."

"I won't do that."

"See that you don't. Now... tell me about this murder you solved that has convinced Mr. Mazerin you can prove his innocence."

"What did he tell you?"

"Only that your mother was killed, the police thought it was an accident, but you found the guy and got him to admit to the murder."

I shrugged. "That's pretty much it. My mom was only forty and in good health, so I never believed she simply fell, or blacked out, or whatever. I found out that a guy had bought up all the stores and houses around our business, and wanted to buy me out too. He was too pushy, and that made me suspicious." I paused to take a drink.

"And then?" Dena urged.

"And then, I found out he'd lied, or at least had probably lied, about knowing Mom. He--"

"How?"

"When the detective questioned him, he said he didn't know Mom, but I found one of his business cards mixed in with business receipt and such. I wanted the police to question him again, but they wouldn't, so I convinced the detective to listen in while I talked to the guy."

"And?" Dena prompted, clearly interested.

"And... I got him to admit he pushed Mom down."

"How?"

"I made him mad... mad enough to threaten me, and mad enough to admit he'd... at least manhandled, Mom. That was enough for the police to dig deeper into his alibi."

The lawyer held my gaze for a long moment. "So you guessed... and just happened to be right?"

"It was more than a guess."

"Are you sure? That's a pretty big leap from finding this guy's business card to knowing he was the man who murdered your mother."

I didn't smile, but if she only knew. "It was more than the card. It was a bunch of little stuff that didn't fit together... just like this. Did I know it was Larson Figgette... the guy who pushed her? No... but I knew Mom's death was no accident... and after finding the card, I could see how all the rest of the little clues pointed back to him."

"And the police couldn't figure that out for themselves?"

I held her gaze for a moment as I crafted my reply. "They'd already decided they knew what happened and didn't consider any other possibilities," I said, my voice firm.

I refused to look away, and after a moment, she diverted her gaze. "Fair point." Her gaze returned to me. "I'll help you as much as I can."

"Thank you. That's all I ask."

I sat in my truck as my cell phone purred in my ear. After Dena's assurance of help, my appetite had returned, and I'd continued to talk to her while we'd finished our meal. I hadn't learned anything new. Gardner wasn't equipped to handle prisoners long term, so Ken would be transferred to the county lockup in Eustice where he would wait for his trial.

I felt so bad for him and worried for his safety. According to Dena, he was the only person in the clink at Gardner, but that wouldn't be true once he was transferred.

"Hey!" Hunter said in way of answer. "What did you find out?"

"It's not good, Hunter," I murmured.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft with sympathy.

"Yeah... no... not really. Everyone here is convinced he did it. Even his lawyer said the prosecution has a strong case."

"You talked to his lawyer?"

"Yeah. The police wouldn't tell me anything."

"Not surprising. Most departments have a policy about discussing open cases. What did his lawyer say?"

"He was seen arguing with Melina earlier in the day by her brother. He's the one who found the body and accused Ken. Ken said that was true, that he and Melina had been arguing, but it was over nothing. They found the murder weapon, a hatchet, in his room, covered with Melina's blood."

Hunter muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch, but I got the meaning. Hunter was swinging over to the guilty side.

"Ouch," he said, his voice still laced with sympathy, though now it didn't seem as sincere as it had earlier. "That's bad."

"Yeah. His prints weren't on it, so that's something I guess."

"It's something. Better than finding his prints all over it, but he could have been wearing gloves, so that doesn't really prove anything."

"Hunter, I don't know what to do."

He sighed. "Ken's in a tough spot. You're absolutely sure he didn't do it?"

"Yes!"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but how do you know? Finding the murder weapon in his room makes him look guilty. You know that, right?"

"I know how it looks, but if you could talk to him, you'd see he's telling the truth when he says he didn't do it."

He sighed. "I can't help you. If the police are stonewalling you, I don't know what to tell you to do. Speaking as a cop, it sounds like they have the right man." I began to protest, but he continued. "I know you don't want to hear that, but the fact of the matter is, the evidence points to him being guilty."

"There's nothing you can do?" I pleaded.

"I'll help you anyway I can, Cam, you know that. But unless you can find a crack in their evidence, there isn't a lot I can do. I'm sorry."

I could hear the sincerity in his voice. It was all going to be on my shoulders, and I didn't know if I was strong enough to carry the load. "Okay..." I murmured.

"I'm sorry, Cam. I really am."

"I know. I'm not blaming you."

"Are you coming home?"

I was torn. I wanted to. I wanted to get back to running my shop, something I knew, understood, and was good at. I wanted to go back to trying to figure out the decor for Cathy's and worrying about how I was going to pay for everything. I wanted to feel Hunter's arms around me as he told me everything would be okay... but I couldn't leave Ken to his fate without doing everything I could to help him.

"No. Not yet. I have to try to do something. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try."

"I know. Listen, talk to the brother. He wasn't home when it happened, I assume?"

"That's my understanding."

"Why did he accuse Ken?"

"I guess they live outside of town, and Melina and Ken were alone after he left to play baseball or something. He was supposed to join them for dinner and when he returned home, he found the body and called the cops."

Hunter grunted. "This just keeps getting worse. If Ken did do it, he's not as smart as I thought."

"See!" I exclaimed. Finally, someone other than me was starting to see it didn't make sense.

"I agree, he'd have to be incredibly stupid if he did it that way, but that doesn't change the evidence against him. If criminals were smart, we wouldn't catch most of them." He paused and I could sense he was thinking. "Talk to the brother," he continued after a moment. "Get the story from him. The cops may have overlooked something, some small detail they dismissed because they thought they had their guy. You've got to start somewhere. Start there."

"I knew it!" I cried, feeling the first glimmer of hope since I'd spoken to Ken earlier this morning.

"Cam, don't go in all guns blazing... and damn sure don't accuse the cops of a coverup. That's not what I'm saying at all. What I'm saying is, there is a mountain of evidence against Ken. It's only human nature to dismiss some trivial little fact that doesn't fit the narrative. It could be something as simple as the times don't line up quite right. It's very easy to dismiss something like that when you have all this other evidence. The assumption will be that someone misremembers. That's something they drill into you over and over, and that's eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable, so having something a bit off is not only understandable, its expected."