Murder to Go

"So you said... but you've been warned. If you come clean now, I'll pretend you didn't just try to interfere in a murder investigation, but if I stick my neck out, and you're spoofing me..." He allowed the threat to hang between us.

"What investigation?" I demanded. "You told me not five minutes ago you already caught the murderer."

"It's still an active case."

"Okay, fine... but I'm not. You have to trust me."

"I don't know you."

"Then trust I'm doing this for selfish reasons."

"To get your boyfriend out of jail?"

"Jesus..." I muttered, "he's not my boyfriend... but yes, to get Ken out of jail. For that to happen, I need this to work."

He said nothing for a moment. "Okay. I'll trust you on this. Now what happens?"

"Now you take me back to my truck. We need to find a place where you can see Greg leave his house so you can follow him. I'll meet you there after I spook him."

"Spook him?" he asked, his face twisting in confusion.

"Yeah. I'm going to convince him I know where he hid the axe. I'm hoping he'll panic, go get it, and try to hide it somewhere else. When he does, you'll follow him right to it."

"And you don't know where it is?"

"No idea. It has to be close to his house, though, for him to have time to kill her, hide the weapon, plant the hatchet, and call the police all before Ken could go get the pizza's and return, right?"

He bobbed his head as his lips thinned. "Makes sense, I guess." He put his car in gear. "Last warning. You'd better be right about this or I'm going to arrest you myself."

"If I'm wrong about this, having you arrest me will be the least of my worries." He glanced at me in confusion. "That means Ken will probably be going to prison."

He gave me a nod in understanding. "I'm having a hard time believing Greg would kill his sister. Why would he do such a thing?"

"Money?" I suggested.

"The trust?"

"Why not? People are killed every day for money."

He shook his head. "How much money does he need? Nobody knows how much money is in the trust, but it has to be tens of millions. Do you know how happy I'd be to get even five million dollars?"

I shrugged, completely understanding where Eric was coming from. "Me too, but differences in people. I guess if you grew up having plenty of money, that makes a difference."

He nodded as he turned the car down the lane to the Star Bright Inn. I smiled as Terri popped out of the office. "Are we going to do this now?" he asked.

"Why wait, if he's home."

"If he's home?"

"I saw him at the gas station earlier this morning. That's when it hit me that he was the killer." I smiled to myself. That much was true at least.

"Okay. I need ten minutes after we arrive to get set up."

"You have a card?" I asked, extending my hand.

Eric reached into the pocket on his car door, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. I smiled as Terri fretted, obviously anxious to talk to Eric.

"I need a pen."

Eric pulled off one of several clipped to the car's sun visor and handed it to me. I took my time writing my name and number on the back of the card, enjoying making Terri stew without a touch of guilt.

"Call me when you're ready. I'll drive up and give him my dog and pony show," I said as I handed the pen and card back.

"What are you going to tell him?" he asked as he looked at the back of the card then slipped it into his pocket.

"I have no idea. I'm making this up as I go, but I'll think of something."

He gave me a sideways grin. "Okay. I'll call when I'm ready. You want to follow me?"

"Sure."

Relishing the idea of denying Terri a juicy bit of gossip, I opened the cruiser's door and stepped out. Terri began to approach, angling toward Eric's door. As soon as my door shut, Eric started backing away, and Terri adjusted her course toward me.

"Sorry! Can't talk now!" I said as I opened my truck door. "I have things to do... and I wouldn't want to have the police called on me for trespassing."

The woman looked decidedly miffed as I slammed the truck door, started it, and backed away without another word. As soon as I was pointed down the lane leading to the highway, I could no longer hide my smile. Leaving Terri desperate to know what was going on was incredibly satisfying, and it served the old biddy right. I'd seen Eric's face when I said I didn't want to talk in front of his grandmother, and I had the impression he didn't approve of her gossipy nature either. I had little doubt she was probably already on the phone to someone, probably making up something vague, but I didn't care. I finally had someone in town, her own grandson to boot, on my side.

Eric was turning out onto the main road when his cruiser came into sight from around a tree shrouded bend. I took a deep breath to try to slow my pounding heart. It's... showtime!

I sat in my truck on the side of the road, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, tapping my foot, and obsessively checking my phone for a message from Eric. I knew the phone would chime or ring when he contacted me, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at it every thirty seconds in case I'd suddenly, and unexpectedly, gone deaf without noticing.

I hoped Greg was home. I'd convinced Eric this time, but my story had more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese. If Greg wasn't home and Eric had time to think about what I'd told him, he might not be willing to try again. It had been almost two hours since I saw Greg at the gas station, and if he'd simply been running an errand, that should be enough time for him to return home. If not... well, I'd worry about that when I had to.

My phone chimed. It was a message from Eric. Ready.

Where are you?

Right side of the house, at the edge of the woods. Can see front and rear doors.

OK. Join you in a few minutes.

Taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I started the truck and drove the last mile or so to the Riis estate. I stepped out of the Ford onto the well-maintained gravel circular drive and glanced around as if admiring the landscaping. I knew Eric was out there, somewhere, but I could detect no hint of his presence. I strode to the front door with purpose before pausing with my fist raised. Taking another deep breath to fortify myself, I hammered on the door so hard my fist hurt.

"Open this door, you murderer!" I yelled before pounding again. I paused and then hammered the door again. "I know you're in there! Open the door!"

There was a long pause and I saw movement through the leaded glass of the front door. I pounded again. "I see you in there! I'm going to the cops and tell them you killed your sister!"

Greg snatched the door open and glared at me. "Go ahead, you crazy bitch! Now get off my property before I call the cops again!"

"Oh please do! I'll wait right here then show them where you buried the axe." I gave him a nasty smile as the color drained from his face. "That's right. I know all about it. The axe. How you buried it under a dead tree in the woods," I snarled, waving my hand while hoping I was indicating somewhere close to where he'd gone.

"You don't know anything!"

"I know everything! How you attacked her from behind as she tried to run," I growled, piecing my story together from the fragments I'd seen. How you hit her in the back with the axe. How you planted the hatchet. How you buried the murder weapon and the hoodie under the tree. I know it all! So go ahead! Call the cops! I want to talk to them anyway!"

Greg stared at me. "You're crazy! Nobody is going to believe that story! Now get out of here!"

"I'm going," I said, making sure my voice was low and dangerous. "I'm going straight to the cops to bring them back here so I can show them the tree with the axe and hoodie under it. You weren't wearing gloves, were you?" I snarled, my tone making it a statement. "I bet your fingerprints are all over the handle, aren't they?" I smiled, playing my part for all I was worth. "I'll go alright, but I'll be back."

I turned and stomped off the porch to my truck. I started it, raced the engine, and then spun the tires hard as I raced away, slewing the truck around the drive while throwing the gravel everywhere in an attempt to seem upset.

I turned onto the road and raced away toward Gardner so Greg could hear the truck's engine straining for speed. When I thought I was beyond hearing, I slowed and pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road.

I didn't know where Eric had hidden his cruiser, but it didn't matter. If Greg saw my truck stopped on the side of the road, hopefully he'd think I was going for the axe. Hopefully. And if he ran, that was just more evidence he was guilty.

I crossed the road and hurried into the woods, moving as quickly as I could. I was a city girl--well, a small-town girl at least--and I suspected I sounded like a moose stomping through the dead leaves, but I thought speed was more important than stealth.

My phone dinged and I paused to check the device. You just passed me.

I turned and looked in the direction where I thought the Riis home would be, but could see no sign of Eric. He was good. He was very good.

I don't see you.

As I continued to scan the forest all around me, he slowly rose and waved his hand, thirty feet behind me, and twenty feet to my right. I waved in return before I crouched and crept toward him. I was completely turned around. It was a good thing he'd seen me or I'd have probably been lost in the woods all night because I had been moving deeper into the forest and away from the house.

"Couldn't you make any more noise?" he hissed as he pulled me down beside him.

"Sorry. Has he left yet?"

"Not yet."

"What's he waiting on?"

He looked at me. "Maybe he's not going."

"He's going," I whispered. "When I told him I was going to get the police and I knew about the axe, he turned white as a ghost."

"There he goes," Eric said, rising slowly. "Stay low and keep quiet."

Eric and I hurried through the woods. I was following Eric, trying to step where he stepped as we plunged through the wood. We were staying back far enough that we could barely keep Greg in sight. We had to move quickly because Greg was all but running, and even when Eric lost sight of him, we only had to pause a moment and we could hear the crunch of leaves as Greg charged through the forest.

Eric suddenly stopped and grabbed my arm to pull me down as he dropped low. I was panting like a bellows but Eric was barely breathing hard.

Greg had stopped and was heaving at the log I'd seen in my vision... at least I assumed it was the same log. We'd passed a couple of others during our mad flight through the forest, and they all looked pretty much the same to me. He strained, crying out in effort as he slid the end of the trunk around, his panic fueling his strength. He dropped to his knees, reached under the tree, and then dug frantically with his hands, crawling at the dirt like a dog digging for a particularly coveted bone. He reached under the tree again and pulled something out, probably the axe, then reached under the log again and pulled out the U of M blue hoodie. He stood, the axe and hoodie in his hands.

"Stay down," Eric hissed as he rose and pulled his sidearm. "Gregory Riis!" he called loudly as he approached, his weapon pointed at Greg. "You are under arrest. Drop the weapon! Face down on the ground! Now!"

Greg froze and then whirled to face Eric. "Eric! You scared the crap out of me, man! What are you doing here?"

"Drop the axe and down on the ground, Greg," Eric said, his voice full of steel.

"What?"

"Do it!" Eric barked, his pistol still leveled at Greg as he slowly approached.

I rose and crept closer but stayed well back as Greg dropped the axe and hoodie, fell to his knees, and then his stomach to lie face down in the leaf litter.

"That the axe you used to kill Melina?" Eric growled as he approached. He removed one hand from his weapon and pulled his cuffs from his belt. "Hands behind your back."

"Eric! What...?"

"Hands behind your back!" Eric snarled.

Greg did as he was ordered. Eric knelt on his back with one knee between Greg's shoulders as he attached one manacle to Greg's wrist before holstering his weapon and finished binding Greg's wrists.

"Eric, I can explain," Greg said, his voice becoming loud and panicky as his words began to tumble over one another. "This isn't what you think! What has she been telling you? I haven't done anything! I'll have your badge for this!"

"This is your Maranda Warning. You have the right to remain silent. You have..." Eric began as he hauled Greg to his feet and held him by his arm.

I listened, saying nothing, as Eric completed reading Greg his rights.

"Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you? Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to me now?"

"Eric, this is all a big mistake! I didn't kill Melina. You have to believe me!" Greg blubbered.

Eric reached to his hip and twisted a knob on his radio. I heard the device pop to life. "Dispatch. Officer Salada. I need an officer to my location, in the woods off Highway 203, near the Riis home. I have Gregory Riis in custody for the murder of Melina Riis," he said, speaking into the microphone attached to the shoulder of his uniform.

"Eric? Say again? Did you say you've arrested Greg Riis for the murder of Melina Riis?"

"I have. I have the suspected murder weapon on the ground in front of me. Better bring an extra-large evidence bag. It's an axe."

There was a long pause, and I was afraid that they were going to tell Eric he was crazy and order him to release Greg. "Pete and Chief Danieli are on their way."

"10-4. Tell them to follow the tree line along the eastern edge of the Riis property about two-hundred yards into the woods."

Greg stared at the ground, his face twisted in grief, or fear, or maybe a combination of the two.

"How could you?" Eric demanded, his voice cold and hard as he gripped Greg's arm. "Your own sister?"

"I'm not saying anything until I talk to a lawyer."

I watched as Eric's face twisted in pain and rage. Maybe he really did care about Melina. "Don't," I said softly as Eric's free hand clenched into a tight fist. "Don't do something that will give him anything to use against you."

Eric glared at Greg as his fist slowly relaxed. "You're going down, and I'm going to be there to watch it happen," Eric said, his voice firm but nonthreatening.

Greg continued to stare at the ground, his face sullen. After a few minutes, I heard the far-off wails of police sirens rapidly drawing closer.

"Stay here," Eric said. "Don't touch anything!"

As Eric led Greg away, I moved closer to the axe. I didn't touch it, but one blade of the head was covered in a dark substance that was probably blood, and I felt my stomach lurch. I couldn't understand how...

Greg was standing at the corner of his house wearing the deep blue hoodie, watching as Ken bounded down the steps and walked to his Honda parked in the drive.

"Ken!" I screamed, trying to warn him of what was about to happen. He slowed to a stop and looked back at the house's door, pausing a moment as he listened. I moved toward him. "Can you hear me?" I asked. "Ken! Can you hear me? You have to listen to me!" I repeated, louder this time.

He shrugged and continued to his car.

"No! Ken! Don't go!" I cried as I grabbed his arm. I felt a tiny tickle in my hand as it passed through his arm, but nothing else. He must have felt something too because he scratched at his arm absent-mindedly where I'd touched before he settled into his car. I ran around the front of the car and tried to open the door, to get into the car with him, but I couldn't lift the handle to unlatch the door.

As Ken drove away, Greg stepped from the corner of the house, the new looking axe and the old, rusty hatchet already in his hands. He carried them onto the front porch, leaving the hatchet by the front door but carrying the axe into the house with him. I rushed to follow, slipping through the door before it closed, afraid if it shut with me outside I wouldn't be able to open it again. I followed the sounds of a woman's voice, stepping around Greg as he paused in the entry. Melina was standing in the room where I knew she'd be killed, what I believed they used to call the parlor, talking on her phone.

"Yes, it's a pickup. A large sweep the floor, and a large double pepperoni. Both thin crust." She paused a moment. "No, that's all. Charge."

I looked behind me to where Greg waited, just out of her sight, holding the axe by the handle at his side.

I hurried to Melina's side as she read the numbers from the credit card she held in her hand. "Melina!" I screamed as loudly as I could directly into the woman's ear.

Melina glanced over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said and hung up. "Oh, hey Greg. I thought I heard you call me... Greg?"

"Run!" I screamed as Greg approached with the axe.

"Greg? What...?" she asked as her eyes fell to the weapon at his side.

"Run!" I screamed again as I stepped in front of Greg and swung my fist at him as hard as I could. He didn't even twitch, but he brushed a finger against his cheek, as if brushing away a hair.

Melina began to back up. "Greg? What are you doing?"

In desperation, I kicked him in the place guaranteed to put a man on the floor, but he never slowed. When he allowed the axe handle to slide through his hand, gripping it at the end before swinging it up to grasp with his other hand in preparation to strike, Melina realized the danger she was in and tried to run. As she passed, Greg pivoted with her while bringing the axe down in a vicious arc, hitting Melina in the back.

I gasped and stumbled back a step before I turned and threw up into the leaves. It had been a cold, calculated murder. My stomach roiled again, and I heaved and gagged, but my stomach was empty. I stood, bent at the waist, hands on knees for several long moments, gasping for breath and swallowing convulsively as my stomach twisted. My head hurt, but I didn't know if my sickness was because I had a vision or because of what I saw in the vision.

I heard the sounds of feet stomping in the dry leaves and men's voices. That seemed to help, and I straightened, no longer feeling like I was about to throw up, and wiped my mouth.

Eric and a much older man approached. "There it is, chief," Eric said, pointing. "Right where he dropped it."

Chief Danieli bent and looked at the axe but didn't touch it. He grunted then stood. "Salada, bag and tag this shit, and get it off to the county lab. Have them pick up Melina's body and compare the wounds to both the hatchet and the axe." He looked at me. "You Camille Wicker?"

"Yes sir."

He gave a jerk of his head. "Come with me. We need to talk."

I smiled and stretched out the kinks as I stepped out of the police station into the warm Michigan sunshine. For the past three hours I'd been questioned almost continuously by the Gardner police. The chair I'd been given in the interrogation room was the same hard orange plastic, and was as spectacularly uncomfortable, as all the rest of the chairs at the station. At one point, I'd considered confessing to Melina's murder myself if the police wouldn't make me sit in that chair anymore.

I didn't get the sense they thought I was involved in the murder of Melina Riis, but they clearly wanted answers. I'd stuck to my story, declaring over and over again that I hadn't known anything, but had only guessed at some things, based on pieces of information various people had told me. I could tell the police didn't believe me, but what could they say? They kept circling around, asking the same questions in a dozen different ways, seizing on any little inconsistency. They were most interested in how I'd known the murder weapon was an axe, and not the hatchet. I leaned into what I knew from studying to be a nurse and claimed I'd gotten the details from Terri, and didn't understand how Ken could have killed her so quickly and easily with just a hatchet. It had been hard not to smile as all three officers in the room, most especially Eric, had rolled their eyes when I mentioned Terri Salada.