Murder to Go

"Well, yes, but I didn't--"

He held up his hand. "Save it. I'm not interested. Just go away, please, and leave us alone."

"You don't care that they have the wrong man locked up? Don't you want to know who really killed your sister?"

I saw the axe whistle through the air in a vicious stroke, cleaving deeply into Melina's back. I stumbled backward into the side of my truck, shocked by what I saw.

"I don't think they have the wrong man."

I stood blinking, trying to recover. The vision was over so quickly, I didn't feel sick to my stomach or have a headache. "Yes, well, how can you be sure?"

A man wearing a hooded sweatshirt was moving quickly through the woods, not running but moving fast, ducking through the brush with the bloody axe in his hand.

"Call it a hunch. Now please, just leave me alone."

I reeled again and felt unsteady. I gripped the top edge of the truck's bed to ground myself, barely hearing his words.

The man was down on the ground with is back against a log as he shoved backwards, his feet digging into the earth as he strained, groaning with the effort. I was standing to the side, his face blocked by the hood. He stood, turned away from me, picked up the axe, and tossed it into the indention in the ground left by the piece of downed tree. He removed the hoodie he was wearing and stuffed it in the hole as well. He put his back to the other side of the log and strained again, pushing the fallen tree back to its original location. Puffing with effort, he slowly rose and spent a few moments shuffling the leaves around to cover his activities. He was looking down, his face almost visible, but I couldn't make out who I was seeing. After a long moment of kicking leaves, the man straightened and looked almost directly at me.

I gasped and took another step backwards, sliding along the edge of my truck. The man with the axe was Greg Riis. I tried to gather my wits. I was both elated and terrified by what I saw. Elated that it wasn't Ken, but terrified that a literal axe murderer was standing less than ten feet from me.

"Yes, okay. I'm sorry to bother you," I stammered, involuntarily stepping back one more step to stand beside the pump handle hanging from the side of my truck.

I didn't know why, but Greg had killed his own sister and tried to frame Ken for it. I couldn't tell anyone because no one would believe me, especially after I told them how I knew, but I knew I had to do something. If only I knew where that fallen log was! It was probably near the house, but in which direction... and how far away from the house was it? I could spend days looking under every tree, and if I were caught, I'd be in trouble for trespassing.

As my truck continued to fill, I thought furiously. There had to be a way to get the police involved, to convince them to look deeper into the case. If a group of officers were combing the woods, they were sure to find the axe and hoodie in short order.

When the pump clicked off, I hung the handle up and sat down in my truck. Greg was still filling his own truck as I crept away. I watched him in my side mirror. He was so cool and smug, watching me drive away. What he'd claimed was grief was probably fear... fear that someone would discover a chink in his story. The police thought they had their man, and Greg wanted to keep it that way.

I drove straight to the Gardner police station and pulled into the parking lot, but sat in my truck, still turning over the problem. There had to be a convincing lie about how I knew Greg was the killer, but what could it be? Then inspiration struck. It was a longshot, but it was all I could come up with. I opened the truck's door. I marched into the Gardner police station like I was on a mission.

I stopped at the window. Behind the glass, a bored looking Officer Pioske rose. "May I help you?" she asked through the speaker.

"I'd like to speak to Officer Muratet."

"You're name?"

I rolled my eyes. I'd spoken to Officer Pioske four times in less than twenty-four hours, and each time it was like she didn't recognize me.

"Camille Wicker. I have important information concerning the Melina Riis murder."

Officer Pioske typed on her computer a moment. "Officer Muratet is out on patrol. If you'd like to leave a message--"

"Didn't you hear me? I said I have important information concerning the Melina Riis murder."

The woman looked at me with her bored eyes. "I heard you. Would you like to leave a message so he can contact you about this 'important information concerning the Melina Riis murder?'"

I stared at her through the glass, concentrating on turning her into a bat. It didn't work. "Can I meet him somewhere? Just tell me where and I'll go to him."

"He's on patrol. If you'd like to leave a message--"

"Never mind!" I snapped before turning and stomping out of the lobby. Gardner wasn't that big of a town. I'd find him myself.

I spent thirty minutes driving around aimlessly as I prowled through the town in search of a cop car. This took the old, 'There's never a cop around when you need one' adage to an entirely new level. How could a police officer be this hard to find in such a small town?

I saw a flash of white as I drove past a road. I gunned the truck, made a fast left, and then roared down the road for two blocks, before making another left. Ahead I saw a Gardner PD car. I put my foot down, speeding down the road while flashing my headlights and honking the horn. The brake lights came on and the patrol car stopped, allowing me to catch up.

I pulled to a stop behind the car and quickly exited my truck, but stopped by the front of my Ford, afraid if I ran up beside the car the cop inside would think I was attacking him. After a moment, Officer Muratet stepped out of his car.

"Thank God!" I gushed. "I need to talk to you. Ken couldn't have killed Melina Riis. I have proof!"

"Proof?" Peter asked slowly. "What proof. From what I've heard, you'll bark up any tree."

"You're talking about Eric Salada?"

"Yes."

"I never said he killed her. I only said he argued with her, and I stand by what I said, but now I do know who killed her!"

"Oh really? Who?"

"Her brother!"

"Greg Riis?"

"Yes!"

"He killed his own sister?"

As expected, I could tell he wasn't buying it. "Yes! I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. Someone, I think his name was Marty something or other, was talking to me yesterday in the diner. He was telling me how he had to sew Melina up so she could be buried. I realized last night that the hatchet that everyone thinks Ken used to kill her couldn't make the kind of wound he described."

He looked at me and I could tell he was simply humoring me. "You some kind of medical expert?" he asked.

"I'm studying to be a nurse."

"Uh-huh. With a minor in being a medical examiner?"

"Did anyone do an autopsy?"

He snorted. "I think the cause of death was pretty obvious."

"Maybe so, but were the injuries she received caused by what you think was the murder weapon, or some other bladed weapon. Like maybe an axe?"

"You just won't let this go, will you?"

"Not when you have the wrong man in jail. Isn't it worth at least checking out?" I paused a moment to see if I was reaching him. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn't mean for it to come out the way it did. I know you don't want to send the wrong man to jail. Please, just look for yourself."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms...?"

"Wicker. Camille Wicker."

"Ms. Wicker, I know you're just trying to help your boyfriend, but Melina's funeral is tomorrow. I'm not going to delay that on some wild-eyed scheme you dreamed up. I'm sorry. You're going to need something more solid than a guess based on secondhand information."

"It's not a guess!"

"I tell you what. Contact the county medical examiner. You tell him your theory. If he buys it, have him give me a call and I'll ask Greg to delay the funeral until he can examine the body. That's the best I can do."

I fumed. There was no way I'd be able to convince a M.E. when I couldn't even convince a patrol cop. "You've got the wrong man," I said softly, my eyes filling with tears.

"That's for the DA and the courts to decide. Now, if you don't have anything else, I have a job to do."

I looked down and pursed my lips so I wouldn't cry in anger and frustration. I was beaten, and Ken was going to prison. I watched officer Muratet pull away before I slammed my hand down on the hood of my truck. The palm of my hand stung from the slap, but I didn't care. Everyone was so cocksure that Ken was guilty they were blind to everything else. I returned to the cab and threw myself behind the wheel before slamming the door, taking my frustrations out on the vehicle.

It's not fair, I thought while staring at the speedometer. I'd tried, but even with the aid of my gift, I wasn't going to be able to help Ken.

Life's not fair, Cam. You might as well get used to that fact, Mom's voice echoed in my mind, something she'd told me over and over as I was growing up. Mom knew that, maybe better than anyone, but not getting to go to the movies with my friends because we didn't have the money was an entirely different thing than Ken going to prison for a murder he didn't commit.

I started my truck and worked my way back to the main road through town. I sat for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Go left, back to Pokagon, or right to Eustice? I just wanted to go home, to fall into Hunter's arms, and have him hold me tight, but I owed it to Ken to tell him I'd failed. At least I could tell him what I knew. Maybe he could use that somehow.

Pursing my lips tight against the tears that were threatening again, I clicked on the right turn signal and pulled out onto Main Street. As I drove, I tried to think of how to break the news to Ken. How could I tell him I'd failed?

Tears crawled slowly down my cheeks as I drove. I passed the sign for the Star Bright Inn and sniffed. A thought occurred to me and I took my foot off the throttle, allowing the truck to gradually slow. I had one more idea. It was a long shot, but it couldn't hurt to try. The worst that could happen is nothing would change, and Ken would be no worse off than he was now. I braked to a gentle stop and then turned around.

I drove back to the Star Bright Inn and pulled to a stop by the office. Squaring my shoulders and drying my eyes, I opened the door to the truck and marched into the office.

"What are you doing here? I have no room to rent to you," Terri sneered.

"I need your help."

"My help?"

"You said Eric adored Melina."

"He did. He'd never hurt a hair on her head."

"I know. And I know he didn't kill her. But now, I know who did."

"Who?"

I shook my head. "No. If he wants the man who did it behind bars, call him. Have him meet me, and I'll prove it to him."

"You're crazy!"

"No, I'm not, and someday the truth will come out. When it does, how will he feel knowing he could have caught Melina's murderer, and seen that justice was done, and you prevented him?"

The woman stared at me for a long moment. "What proof?"

"No. This is for Eric only."

Terri was all but salivating for the news. "I still think you're crazy. You'll say anything to get your boyfriend out of jail."

"He's not my boyfriend, but there's one way to find out, isn't there?"

Terri stared at me for a long moment before she picked up her phone and dialed. "Eric, honey, can you stop by the Star? There's someone here that wants to talk to you."

I watched as the Gardner PD cruiser approached. I was standing beside the passenger side of my truck in front of the Star Bright Inn's office. It rolled to a smooth stop directly in front of me.

"What do you want?" Eric demanded as he rolled his window down, his voice arctic cold and diamond hard.

After Eric agreed to talk to me, I'd said nothing else, and Terri's constant hinting, wheedling, and guessing, had started getting on my last reserve nerve, so I'd stepped outside to wait. The last thing I wanted to do was talk in front of her. As fast as gossip traveled in Gardner, it wouldn't surprise me if everyone in town knew my idea before Officer Salada had a chance to make up his mind. I very much needed Officer Salada to make up his mind and not be influenced by Terri's meddling or dislike of me.

Terri must have been watching because the wheels on Eric's cruiser had barely stopped turning when she stepped out of the office. She kept her distance, standing by the door to give us the illusion of privacy, but I could imagine her ears were swiveling about like two radar dishes, eager to pick up any hint of what I was going to tell her grandson.

I jerked my head at Terri. "This is for your ears only."

Eric looked past me and then frowned. "Get in."

After I settled into the seat, he rolled his window up, put the car in gear, and backed away, turning around in the parking area before creeping down the narrow road to the highway.

"I don't know what your game is, but I've pretty much had it with you," he began.

"Your grandmother said you adored Melina. You said you loved her. Is that true?"

He looked at me sharply. "Why do you think I said that?" he asked, his tone hard.

"Is it true?"

"First, tell me why you think I said that."

"She told Ken," I lied, not meeting his eyes. "He told me."

He paused as he turned onto the highway. "First off, I didn't threaten her."

"Didn't you say you wouldn't let some pencil necked geek take her away from you? That sounds kind of threatening to me."

"I'd never hurt her! Never!" He paused, looked at me, and then sighed as he softened slightly. "Did I love her? No, not in the way you mean, but I wanted to. I wanted her to give me a chance to make her happy. I'd do..." he paused, his face twisting into an unreadable expression of sorrow, and perhaps anger, "would have done anything for her."

I nodded. "Do you want to catch the man that killed her?"

"We already have."

"No, you haven't. You have the wrong man. Ken didn't kill her. Her brother did."

He glared at me. "You're crazy!"

"I can prove it."

He pulled the cruiser into the weeds at the side of the road, flipped on the emergency strobes, and then stared at me. "How?"

"What if I told you the hatchet wasn't the murder weapon at all. What if I told you it was an axe. A big, heavy, two bladed axe."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, okay? I'm studying to be a nurse, and some of the things people told me didn't add up, but now it does."

He continued to stare at me. "Alright, let's say I believe you, and she was killed with an axe, how does that prove Greg did it and this Kendal guy didn't?"

"What if I can get Greg to lead you to the murder weapon?"

"How are you going to get him to do that... assuming you're right?"

"Leave that to me. Everyone is so sure Ken is the killer, and he used the hatchet, nobody is even looking at anything else. He's said all along he didn't do it, and he didn't know how the hatchet ended up in his room... but if Greg recovers a blood covered axe that he hid in the woods, would that be enough for you to at least consider that maybe Ken is innocent?"

"Where in the woods?"

I smiled. Eric was becoming interested. "I don't know. If I knew that, I'd take you there myself, but if Greg knows where, what would that say?"

"How do you know all this?" he asked. "How do I know you aren't still stirring up trouble and you're sending me on a snipe hunt because you think it's funny... the big city girl from Detroit coming up here to make the locals look stupid?"

"First off, people need to stop believing the rumors and gossip, and start looking at the facts. I don't live in Detroit. I live in Pokagon, a little town not that much bigger than Gardner, about ninety minutes north of Grand Rapids. Secondly, there's nothing in it for me to try to make you look stupid. I want to clear Ken at least as badly as you must want to see Melina's killer pay for what he did. We want the same thing, Eric. We can help each other."

He held me with his gaze for a long time. "You still haven't said how you know all this."

"Little clues, things people said that don't add up. I admit, some of this is guessing, and it's hard to know the truth from the rumors," I said, trying to be economical with the truth because if I told him how I really knew, I'd be lucky if he didn't make me walk back to my truck, "but I'm right, and I'm willing to stake Ken's life on it."

"Not your own?"

"I'm not the one accused of murder. Ken is."

He stared at me for another long moment, his face clouded with doubt. "Peter Muratet is the arresting officer on this. Let me talk to him," he said as he reached for the radio mic.

"No!" I cried, stilling his hand. "No, don't call him. I went to him first, and he blew me off. If you want Melina's killer caught, you're the one who's going to have to do it."

He began to shake his head as his face twisted into some expression I couldn't decipher. "No. I can't believe Greg would--"

"What's it going to cost you?" I pressed. "A couple of hours of your time? If I'm wrong, I'll leave town, or you can arrest me for filing a false police report, or whatever, but if I'm right, an innocent man may spend the rest of his life in prison while Melina's killer will be walking around free. Is that something you can live with, knowing you could have done something about it, if I turn out to be right?"

Again, he watched me for a long time, clearly thinking over what I'd said. He was weakening, and I could see it. "Why don't I talk to Greg first? You said you were guessing. I could--"

"If I'm right, all that will do is tip him off that you're onto him," I interrupted. "Do you want to give him a chance to dispose of the axe?"

"You still haven't said how you know it's him."

"Call it a feeling."

"A feeling? Are you serious? I can't arrest the guy on a feeling!" he said, his doubt clear in his tone.

"Don't you get feelings when someone is lying to you? I'm not asking you to arrest him on my say so, I'm only asking you to let Greg prove himself guilty... or at least make a suspect of himself."

He held my gaze. I could sense him weakening a little more.

"How are you going to get Greg to lead you to the murder weapon?" he asked.

"Not me. You. Or us. I want you to see it for yourself. I want you to know the truth, just as I do."

"Okay, how are you going to get Greg to lead me to the murder weapon?"

I smiled. I had him! "You leave that to me. Do we have a deal?"

"What deal?" he asked, suddenly suspicious again.

"That if Greg leads you to the murder weapon, you'll investigate deeper into the murder."

"That's it?" he asked, his tone dubious. "No, 'you'll let Kendal go'? Nothing like that?"

"You're an honest cop, right? You don't want to see an innocent man convicted of a crime he didn't commit, do you?"

"No."

"Then I'm confident you'll do the right thing. Once you know the truth, Ken won't have anything to worry about."

He licked his lips. "Okay, deal. You get Greg to lead me to the murder weapon, I'll see to it that we make sure we have the right man."

I couldn't stop my smile as I nodded and stuck out my hand. "Thank you, Officer Salada."

He smiled slightly as he took my hand. "I think you'd better start calling me Eric instead of Officer Salada, at least until this is over. So, how's this plan of yours going to work? I'm warning you, you better not be sending me on a snipe hunt for some sick joke. If you are, you're not going to like what happens next."

"You're so suspicious," I chided softly. "I told you, we want the same thing... Melina's murderer behind bars."