The Root of Murder Page 17

  “That bitch!” Heather said. “I’m gonna—” Realizing what she was about to say, she stopped. “I want a lawyer.” She turned to Joshua. “What’s J.J.’s number?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  While the Columbiana Sheriff’s cruiser took the freeway to transport Heather Davis to Lisbon, Cameron, with Joshua in the passenger seat, took Dresden Avenue out of East Liverpool. A few miles along the two-lane road took them to the Time Out Bar and Grill. In the evening hours, after dinner, the sports bar was moderately busy with regulars.

  When Cameron stepped in with her badge clipped to her belt next to her service weapon, the crowd took notice to watch her and Joshua approached the bar. The bartender was quick to ask them what they wanted.

  “Just answers to a couple of questions.” Cameron brought up Heather Davis’s and Madison Whitaker’s drivers’ license pictures on her tablet.

  “Were you tending bar Friday night?” Joshua became aware of a heavyset man eyeing Cameron with a salacious smile on his face. He sat on the stool next to where she leaned against the bar.

  With a quick glance around the room, he saw that his wife, as usual, was the prettiest woman in the bar. Cameron’s good looks were not glossy like that of a fashion model. She didn’t color her cinnamon color hair, which she wore in layers to the bottom of her neck. Makeup amounted to a bit of mascara. Usually, she ditched lipstick in favor of chapstick.

  The bartender took his time trying to recall which day was Friday.

  “Yeah, Butch,” the guy on the stool said. “Friday night. You were here.” He smiled at Cameron. “I was here, too.”

  “Norm is here every night,” Butch said.

  Cameron showed Butch the pictures. “Do you recall seeing either of these two ladies here Friday night?”

  “Yeah, they were here. Drank martinis. Lots of martinis.”

  Norm made no pretense of looking over Cameron’s shoulder. “The blonde came in first—by herself. She was upset. I tried to talk to her, but she wanted to be alone. I thought maybe her boyfriend’d dumped her.”

  “She drank two martinis before her friend came in,” Butch said. “The brunette. They had another round of martinis. The brunette paid their bill and they left.”

  “About what time?” Joshua asked.

  Butch shrugged his shoulders. “Have no idea.”

  “They weren’t gone very long,” Norm said. “They came back. They came in together that time. The blonde was even more upset than she was before. The brunette was comforting her.”

  “Do you remember what time they came back?” Joshua asked.

  While Butch shook his head, Norm answered, “Close to eight because I left at eight after the soccer game was over. They were sitting in the booth over there and had put in an order for a pitcher of martinis. Butch was serving them when I left.”

  “Are you absolutely certain about that?” Cameron asked.

  “I make it a point to always keep track of the lookers.” Norm grinned.

  “He means hit on them,” Butch said.

  “I don’t always hit on them.”

  With a smirk, Butch shook his head while mouthing. “Always.”

  “You make it sound like I don’t have discriminating taste,” Norm said. “I do have standards.”

  “Name the last looker, who wasn’t a regular, who walked through that door that you didn’t hit on,” Butch said.

  “Me,” Cameron said.

  “You haven’t walked out yet. Give him time.”

  “There was that strange bleach blonde who came in Friday,” Norm said. “I didn’t hit on her.”

  “I know the one you’re talking about,” Butch said. “She doesn’t count.”

  “She was a looker and she wasn’t a regular.”

  “She was also weird.”

  “Not that weird,” Norm said.

  “She had a huge dark cloud hanging over her head.”

  “Which is why I didn’t hit on her,” Norm said. “But you can’t deny she was a looker and she wasn’t a regular and I didn’t hit on her. That means she counts.”

  “Gentlemen,” Joshua said in a sharp tone. “to get back to the two lookers drinking martinis in that booth on Friday night—”

  “I never hit on the brunette either,” Norm told Butch.

  “Only because you had to go home to your wife before you had a chance.”

  “Excuse me,” Joshua said. “To get back on the two ladies. Since Norm went home to his wife at eight. I guess it’s up to someone else to tell us what time they left after coming back.”

  “Now that I can answer,” Butch said. “I called them an Uber to take them home at midnight. When they came back, they were really upset about something. We were pretty busy, but I remember they had several rounds of martinis.” He shook his head. “I’m not setting myself up to get sued. I arranged an Uber to take them home at closing.”

  “And you close at midnight,” Cameron noted.

  “Did either of them leave between eight when Norm saw them come in and midnight?” Joshua asked.

  Butch shook his head. “They sat there in that booth the whole time. Neither of them left until the Uber car arrived and I helped pour them into the car. I even had to search their wallets to give the addresses to the driver.”

  “Who paid for the drinks?” Cameron asked.

  “The brunette paid from her phone before we took them outside,” Butch said. “She held her liquor better than the blonde.”

  “That means there will be a digital record of the time,” Cameron told Joshua.

  “She paid with her phone both times,” the bartender said. “You’ll find a digital record of what time they left the first time, too.”

  “Hey, what did they do?” Norm asked.

  “Looks like nothing since you two can testify to their whereabouts Friday evening,” Cameron said.

  “Do you mean we’re busting whatever case you’re working on wide open?” Norm asked.

  “Pretty much,” Cameron said.

  “Guess that will make you pretty grateful, huh?”

  “Pretty.”

  “Grateful enough for a kiss?” Norm tapped his heavily stubbed cheek.

  “Told you he’d hit on you if you gave him enough time,” Butch said.

  “Just one more kiss, and then you can go.” J.J. pulled Poppy in close and covered her mouth with his.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Hoping to prolong the kiss, J.J. held her as tight as he could. He savored the taste of her mouth—until he felt a pair of thick, soft, furry lips on the back of his neck.

  The magical moment broken, he opened his eyes.

  The thick furry lips continued to nuzzle on his coat collar and work their way down to his shoulder.

  Poppy giggled.

  “Gulliver, you’re not my type,” J.J. told the Appaloosa gelding who had let himself out of his stall after finishing his dinner.

  With a “baa” Ollie hopped into Gulliver’s open stall to check for any potential leftovers. The rooster, Charley was directly behind him.

  “I should be going.” Poppy escorted the horse back into his stall.

  “Fifty-nine days from now, you won’t need to go home. We’ll just say good night to all of the animals and go into our home together and—” He cleared his throat.

  “And what?” Shooting him a wicked grin, she shooed Ollie and Charley out of the stall.

  He chuckled. “Whatever you want.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve algebra.” She closed the stall door.

  He gave her a long lingering kiss on the lips. “I assure you,” he said with his lips close to hers, “algebra is the last thing on my mind right now.” He groaned when the phone in the case on his hip buzzed. He released his hold on her to take the phone out of its case. Seeing his father’
s ID, he sighed. “What now?”

  While he spoke on the phone, Poppy went to check on the new pregnant mare at the other end of the barn. Pilgrim was still in quarantine.

  “What’s up, Dad?” he asked while admiring the way her jeans hugged her toned figure.

  Between the experiences of her traumatic adolescence and their spiritual beliefs, they had decided to wait until their wedding night to become intimate. It was a decision the two of them had made together and not discussed with anyone, including their closest friends and family. After all, that part of their relationship was really no one’s business. Since their engagement, the couple had become increasingly amused by how everyone assumed Poppy had taken up residence in J.J.’s home and that they spent their evenings exploring various sexual activities.

  Two months seemed like an eternity. As the days stretched to weeks and then months since their engagement, J.J. began wondering why he hadn’t suggested they elope. Is it too late to run off to a justice of the peace?

  “Am I interrupting something?” Joshua asked after J.J., caught up in a fantasy, didn’t answer respond to his question about if he was busy.

  A master escape artist, Gulliver strolled past J.J. and down the center aisle to where Poppy was checking on Pilgrim. Upon seeing the open stall, Ollie scurried inside with Charley riding on his back. Once there, they embarked on what resembled a dance in the fresh hay to send straw everywhere.

  “We’re just bedding down the animals for the night and the dynamic duo are acting like a couple of two-year-olds on a sugar high.” J.J. ushered Ollie out of the stall, but Charley would have none of it.

  “I’ve got another client for you,” Joshua said.

  “What’s the charge?”

  “Don’t you want to know who it is first?”

  Staking his claim on the stall, Charley rose up on his legs, flapped his wings, and shrieked.

  “You have the whole rest of the barn to play in!” J.J. swung his arms toward the stall doorway. “Get out of here!”

  “What’s Charley doing now?” Joshua asked.

  J.J.’s answer was drowned out by Captain Blackbeard, their prized stallion, whinnying his objection of Gulliver, a mere gelding, being allowed to roam free while he was locked in his stall. Gulliver made a habit of antagonizing the stallion by releasing the mares, three of whom were pregnant with Blackbeard’s colts, but leaving Captain Blackbeard locked up.

  “It’s okay, Captain,” Poppy said in a soothing tone while leading the Appaloosa back to his stall. “Gulliver’s going to behave himself. Aren’t you, handsome?” She gave the horse a loving pat on the rear as he went back into the stall. She then shooed the rooster out. “Pilgrim is doing great. Her eyes are clear and even have a healthy sparkle to them.”

  “Pilgrim is doing great,” J.J. told Joshua.

  “Glad to hear that,” Joshua said. “Do you feel like driving out to Lisbon to sit in on an interrogation?”

  “Who’s the client and what’s she accused of?”

  “Heather Davis,” Joshua said. “Traffic cams show her in the area at the time of the murder, two witnesses place her in the apartment complex, and a bloody towel was found in her SUV.”

  “But you don’t think she did it.”

  “We know she didn’t do it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Sorry to interrupt your evening.” Cameron met J.J. in the corridor outside the interrogation room when he arrived at the sheriff’s office.

  “It was a hard decision. I had a choice between interviewing a murder suspect who’s innocent in a nice warm conference room or sanding hardwood floors in a cold farmhouse. Why did you call me? If you know she’s innocent…”

  “Because you already have a relationship with her.” Joshua leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

  “Back when I was a cad.”

  “I’m always going to be her boyfriend’s father,” Joshua said. “Cam is the enemy police detective. She’ll open up to you.”

  “Besides Heather requested an attorney,” Cameron said, “and she asked for you.”

  “She slapped me just a couple of days ago.”

  “She’ll forget all about that once you flash those dimples at her,” Cameron said with a grin.

  “If you don’t think she killed her father, then why is she here?” J.J. asked.

  “We’re trying to figure out who the anonymous tipster is,” Cameron said. “I believe Heather and Madison know. Problem is, they most likely don’t know they know.”

  J.J. narrowed his eyes. Knowing now that it was unlikely his client was going to be charged, he wished he had stayed comfortable in his jeans and warm plaid shirt instead of changing into slacks and a sports coat.

  “The tipster said Heather had been at John Davis’s apartment and fought with him on the night of the murder,” Cameron said. “This female tipster also claimed that she saw Heather leave the apartment with what looked like a bloody knife wrapped in a dishtowel. That knife was planted in Derek Ellison’s trailer, and the dishtowel was planted in Heather’s SUV.”

  “Derek told me on the drive up to the rehab center that he saw an angel who he had believed in his stoned state to be Lindsay,” Joshua said. “Of course, his timing would be a giant question mark, but he said he found the knife the next morning. Suppose this angel was actually the killer planting the murder weapon to implicate him.”

  “When that frame fell apart, she decided to plant the bloody dishtowel in Heather’s SUV and call in an anonymous tip,” Cameron said.

  “How did Heather not notice the bloody towel?” J.J. asked.

  “It was concealed in the spare tire compartment,” Joshua said. “When was the last time you looked in your spare tire compartment?”

  “John Davis was stabbed thirty-two times,” Cameron said. “Even though the killer wrapped him up in a comforter, there had to be blood all over the place. Forensics found no blood in the back of Heather’s SUV and it hasn’t been cleaned recently.”

  “This anonymous tipster had to know about Derek’s threats and that Heather had gone to her father’s apartment on the night of the murder,” J.J. said. “That means she’s the killer.”

  “Right now, the only suspect who meets both of those conditions is Madison,” Cameron said.

  “Heather claims it was Madison,” Joshua said.

  “But Madison is Heather’s alibi,” Cameron said. “The two of them were getting drunk after confronting Davis at the Time Out Bar and Grill. Both the bartender and a customer can vouch for them being there during the kill window.”

  “Elizabeth Collins claimed to be with Madison that night,” J.J. said.

  “That was a lie Elizabeth had fed to her husband,” Cameron said. “She was out cheating on him and she used Madison as her cover. When you asked Madison where she was—”

  “Aaron was there,” J.J. said with a nod of his head.

  “Elizabeth had to jump in to say Madison was with her to cover for herself.”

  “They didn’t do it,” Joshua said.

  “Heather now thinks Madison, her sister, is the anonymous tipster,” Cameron said. “Those two enemies had set all differences aside to become sisters and now this happens.”

  J.J. turned around to look at the door where Cameron was looking over his shoulder. Clad in a royal blue fur trimmed coat, Madison shivered.

  “Oh,” J.J. said, “I get it. You’re asking the former lover and cheat to play big brother and arbitrator to bring these two sisters back together again.”

  “I’m more interested in finding out who anonymous is so that we can find a killer,” Cameron said, “and I think these two have to work together to help us find her.”

  “What are we going to do if the killer ends up being one of their mothers?” J.J. asked.

  “What’s she doing here?” Heather charged at Madison
as soon as she saw her enter the interview room ahead of J.J.

  “Just give her a minute to explain!” J.J. threw himself between the two women who went at each other.

  “You set me up!” Heather tried to reach around J.J. to get at Madison.

  “I tried to help you!” Madison replied.

  “By telling them that we were there? I told you to tell the police that you were working at the studio alone.”

  “Yeah,” J.J. said with sarcasm. “Never tell the truth when you can come up with a nice lie.”

  “You should know, J.J.!” Heather said.

  “I never lied to either of you and you know that!”

  “I never should have trusted you!” Heather said to Madison. “You probably planned on setting me up from the very instant you got that notification from the website. I’ll bet you knew all along that Dad was a cheat and when you found out I was your sister, you figured you’d have your cake and eat it too by killing him and framing me. You always were jealous of me.”

  “Me? Jealous of you? Give me a break!” Madison said. “How do I know you didn’t set me up? Getting me good and drunk so that I would pass out. Then you went and killed him.”

  “And then call in an anonymous tip on myself?” Heather’s eyes were wide.

  “Heather’s right,” J.J. said. “That wouldn’t be a very good plan.”

  “Unless she made it look like she was being framed to take suspicion off herself so that you’d think I was framing her.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Heather said.

  “People saw us at Dad’s apartment,” Madison said. “Remember that old woman in the wheelchair?”

  “The one smoking up a chimney in twenty-degree weather?” Heather shuddered.

  “She saw us there.”

  “When Madison threw you under the bus, she threw herself under the wheels as well,” J.J. said. “The fact is neither of you set the other up. Neither of you killed your father.”

  “Then why are we here?” Heather asked.

  “Because apparently your father’s killer knew the two of you were at his apartment that night,” J.J. said. “They knew enough about Derek to frame him by planting the murder weapon in his trailer and had access to Heather’s SUV to plant the dishtowel.” He urged them to sit at the table. “In order for us to track down his killer, you both need to come clean with everything that you can remember about that night. Exactly where you were, what was said, who was around to witness it. Everything you can think of.”