The Root of Murder Page 19

  “She’s probably able to get up and down, but not necessarily walk,” J.J. said.

  “Her rap sheet certainly got quieter since she landed in the wheelchair,” Tony said. “Probably because she can’t get out to drink and cause trouble like she used to.”

  “Bishop Moore is from Canfield,” J.J. said.

  Cameron shook her head. “His last known address was North Jackson.”

  “Bishop Moore was run over in Austintown thirteen years ago,” Tony said.

  “Ross Bayles told us that Bishop Moore was from Canfield,” J.J. said. “The day that we went to Moore’s apartment and he let us in, he told us that Moore was from Canfield.”

  “That’s right,” Cameron said. “How did I miss that?”

  “I missed it, too. In the office, Bayles told me that he didn’t know that much about Moore.”

  “But he did know that Moore was from Canfield,” Cameron said, “which he isn’t.”

  “Maybe it was on Moore’s rental application,” Tony said.

  “The convenience store that Brenda Bayles and her boyfriend robbed was in Canfield,” J.J. said. “The boyfriend testified against Brenda to send her to jail for seven years. Ross says Bishop Moore is from Canfield, when there’s no papertrail to indicate that. Maybe Ross said that because Moore is the one who sent his wife to prison.”

  “Can’t be,” Cameron said with a shake of her head. “Bishop Moore is nothing more than an identity that John Davis stole. The real Bishop Moore was killed thirteen years ago.”

  “Run down in a bar parking lot,” Tony said.

  “Brenda Bayles went to jail for murder forty years ago,” J.J. said. “Since that time, she’d done a lot of drinking and drugs. Anyone can see that her brain has fermented. John Davis was about the right age—using Bishop Moore’s information—”

  “Tony, what’s Brenda Bayles’s age?” Cameron asked.

  “She’s fifty-eight,” Tony said. “According to the records we have for Bishop Moore, based on the social security number …” there was a long pause. “Fifty-six.”

  “The same age as Brenda Bayles’s juvie accomplice,” J.J. said.

  “What previous address did he list on his rental application?” Cameron asked Tony while keeping an eye on J.J.

  “The same address Bishop Moore was living at when he was killed,” Tony said. “North Jackson. Not Canfield.”

  “Did your background check show where Moore graduated from high school?” Cameron asked.

  There was another silence while Tony checked his records.

  Cameron said, “If he was sentenced to a juvie deten—”

  “Nothing in his records about ever graduating from high school,” Tony said.

  “If Bishop Moore testified against Bayles to get her sent to prison,” Cameron said, “that would give her real motive for stabbing him thirty-two times. It would also explain why she hated him so much.”

  “But the real Bishop Moore is dead,” Tony said.

  “Brenda Bayles is an insanely bitter woman,” Cameron said.

  “After forty years of bitterness, she’s at rock bottom,” J.J. said. “It must have eaten away at her every time she saw him attractive and seemingly successful.”

  “She even told me that he used his good looks to suck the life out of women.”

  “That’s probably what the guy who testified against her to send her to jail did,” J.J. said. “At least from where she sat.”

  “She sees a man who is approximately the same age by the same name from the same area as the guy who had sent her to jail,” Cameron said. “It probably never occurred to her that it wasn’t him. She spies on him and gets some goods to blackmail him. If Bayles was blackmailing Davis for being a bigamist, why would he still pay it after Madison and Heather confronted him?”

  “I wouldn’t have,” J.J. said. “If it’s out there, what’s the point?”

  “And that’s why Brenda killed him,” Cameron said. “He still had the blackmail money when Heather and Madison confronted him. After they left, he told Brenda to take a hike. She refused to let this opportunity for payback slip by, so she released all the fury that has built up and stabbed him to death.”

  “Excuse me.” Tony’s voice uttered from the phone’s speaker. “Do you have any evidence of that? Remember, this guy is not the real Bishop Moore. Even if we get the juvie file opened and find that the Bishop Moore from North Jackson was the guy who’d sent Brenda Jarvis to jail for murder, the guy in Calcutta didn’t. So she has no motive to kill that guy.”

  “Unless you can prove that Brenda Bayles believed the victim was the same Bishop Moore who had sent her to jail,” J.J. said.

  “And that she took the ten thousand dollars that he withdrew from the bank on the day of the murder,” Cameron said. “Tony, did you get a report back from the phone records?’

  “There’s one phone number that made regular calls on both Shawn Whitaker’s and John Davis’s phones,” Tony said. “That call came from a pre-paid burner phone.”

  “Of course,” Cameron said. “Tony, call Lieutenant Parks at the sheriff’s department to get working on a search warrant for the Bayles office and apartment. If we find that phone and the money, then we’ll have them.”

  After disconnecting the call, Cameron looked at J.J. who was still glancing around the kitchen. “I’m going to catch a killer today.” Mug in hand, she ran up the back stairs to get dressed.

  J.J. heard a long mournful whine next to him. Admiral gazed up at him, then looked over at the biscuit jar, and then back again. “Don’t they ever feed you?” He gave the dog a biscuit. With a sigh, he petted the grateful dog. “I don’t suppose you know where Dad put the sander.”

  After finishing the biscuit, Admiral looked up at J.J. and licked his chops. He wasn’t talking.

  “Check out ur website.”

  Madison smiled upon reading Heather’s text.

  At the kitchen table, she brought the cup of herbal tea to her lips while swiping her thumb across the screen of her phone to open the website. To her surprise, Heather had uploaded a video of Madison dancing at the state competition from years before. She had placed it on her homepage. Madison was so enthralled by the video that she didn’t notice the three puppies chewing on her bare toes under the kitchen table.

  “Where did u get that?” she texted Heather before picking up one of the pups, who squeaked at her.

  “Found it on the state competition’s website archives. Downloaded it. Great promotion potential.”

  “What are you smiling at?” Sherry Whitaker asked.

  Madison felt like her bottom had left her seat when she jumped upon hearing her mother’s voice from behind the chair. She placed the phone face down on the table and sipped her tea.

  Squinting at Madison’s flustered state, Sherry set down the cocker spaniel she was carrying and held up her hand in a signal for the dog to stay. “Are you okay?”

  “You scared me. I guess we’re all on edge.”

  “I know I certainly am.” Sherry strapped a fanny pouch in which she carried training treats around her waist. “I haven’t slept in days. The only thing that keeps me sane is working with these dears. It takes my mind off of what your father may or may not be going through. Or, worst case—” She broke down.

  Madison draped an arm across her shoulders. “I miss him, too.”

  Sherry took the pup that Madison held and sighed. “I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you will. We both will.”

  “I’m going to tell you a little secret,” Sherry said in a low voice. “One I’ve never told anyone.”

  Fearful that her mother was about to make a confession that would move her to the top of the police’s suspect list, Madison held her breath.

  “One of the things I loved most about your father was”—a slim smile crossed her lip
s—“him being gone all the time.”

  “You loved Dad most when he was gone?”

  Sherry giggled. “I loved him. He loved me. I had no doubt about that. But he let me be who I am”—she gestured at the puppies littering the kitchen—“puppies and all. I always knew I was a little weird.”

  “Mom, you’re not weird.”

  “Yes, I am.” Sherry rubbed her face in the puppy’s fur. “I love my dogs—being outdoors working with them. I don’t like worrying about my weight, drinking a beer at the end of the day, and dancing to Keith Urban. I am who I am and that’s who I am. And you know what? Your father said he loved that the most about me. He accepted who I was, and I accepted him the same way.” A tear traveled down her cheek. “When he was gone, I didn’t have to take care of any man. And I didn’t have to do it when he was back. We just accepted and loved and appreciated each other the way we were.” She sighed. “There will never be another man like him.”

  “That’s for sure,” Madison said.

  “But I’ll be okay.” Sherry patted her hand. “Because I’ve learned through the years, I don’t need a man. I wanted your father. I loved your father. I so enjoyed being with him. But I never needed your father.” She put the puppy down. “He was a nice-to-have. And you don’t need any man either.” She snapped the leash onto the cocker spaniel. “Oh, I heard from Lieutenant Gates this morning. She’d like for us to meet her at her house later on today to update us on what she has.”

  Madison’s stomach twisted as she thought about how heartbroken her mother was going to be upon learning of her father’s betrayal. “In Chester?”

  “She’ll call later on with the time.” Telling the cocker spaniel to heel, she headed out the back door. “That’s the worst thing. Not knowing. Even if it’s bad news, I just want to know what’s happened to my Shawn.”

  “So do I,” Madison said as her phone buzzed.

  “Even if she’s found your father with amnesia in a small town in Montana married to another woman with a bunch of children, at least I’ll know and we can move on from there,” Sherry said on her way out the door with the dog. “Come along, Allister.”

  “That sounds totally plausible.” Madison groaned when she read the caller ID. It was Elizabeth.

  In an instant, she recalled Heather’s account of how Elizabeth had sucked the life out of Lindsay. There were times when she felt the same way—like Elizabeth was a leech who had latched onto her and was sucking the life out of her. She considered letting the call go to voice mail, but instead answered.

  “Hey, Maddie, what are you doing?”

  “I’m helping Mom with the puppies.” Madison took in a deep breath. “I was going to call you.”

  “I guess great minds think alike.”

  “I only have one lesson scheduled for today. J.J. and Poppy this afternoon. How about if you take the day off and spend some time with your little ones?”

  “But you need me.”

  “Mom needs me,” Madison said. “I’ve been so focused on the dance studio that I’ve been leaving Mom to handle Dad being missing all on her own. She just broke down here. I should be here for her, and you know what, you need to be there for your family. So, I’m just going to go into the studio this afternoon to work with J.J. and Poppy. Then, I’ll come home.”

  “I’ll come over, too.”

  “What?” Madison felt her heart skip a beat.

  “I’m your best friend,” Elizabeth said. “I need to be there for you.”

  Panic set in as Madison listened to her.

  “What kind of friend would I be if I abandoned you in your time of need? I’ll come over and—”

  “No!”

  Elizabeth paused before asking, “What?”

  “Mom really doesn’t feel like company right now.”

  “I’m not company. I’m your sister.”

  Madison felt her mouth drop open. Her head spun while she thought of how best to respond. “Mom and I just want to be alone in our grief right now. Bye, Elizabeth.”

  “That sounds pretty final, Maddie.” Elizabeth’s tone shifted. Her voice was low—even threatening. “What did Heather tell you about me?”

  “Nothing. What would she have to tell me? She barely even knows you.”

  “Then why are you blowing me off?”

  “Seriously? I thought we were out of high school.” The phone chimed in her ear to signal an incoming call. Madison checked the screen to see that it was Heather. “I have to go. Heather’s calling me.” She regretted saying it as soon as the words exited her mouth. Elizabeth was cursing when Madison disconnected the call.

  “Hey, did your mom hear from Cameron?” Heather asked. “She wants to meet at the Thornton house later on this afternoon. Are you going to be there?”

  “I think I should. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. It will help to cushion the blow. Mom’s head is going to explode.”

  “Heather,” Madison said, “what kind of marriage did Dad have with your mother?”

  “If you want to call it that?” Heather laughed. “Well, Dad was gone half of the time. You already know that. It isn’t like it was all Dad’s fault. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but Mom is OCD. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother and I know I am a lot like her, but everything has to be her way or she’ll freak out. Dad once pointed out that she went through five vacuum cleaners in four years because she couldn’t handle a speck of dirt. It would drive her nuts. Dad learned to just go along with it.”

  Madison looked down at the shredded newspaper that the puppies had thrown about the kitchen. “He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t love her. He told us. I was freaking out so much when we talked to him, but now I remember him saying that he loved all of us equally.”

  “I know,” Heather said. “Listen, are you going to be at the studio this afternoon? I have some logo samples I want to show you. We need to get working on your brand if we want you to stand out.”

  “Lunch.”

  “Coffee shop.”

  “See you at noon, sis!”

  They giggled. It was their first term of endearment as sisters.

  “See you, sis,” Heather replied.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hunter Gardner was nervous. Joshua could see his leg shaking where he was sitting across from Sheriff Sawyer, who was reading the accident report that his deputy had put together.

  When he’d finished, Sheriff Sawyer placed the report down in the center of his desk. “You’re telling me that your computer program says Lindsay Ellison wasn’t driving at the time of the accident.”

  “There’s no way the wheels could have been turned out of the skid after Lindsay had been thrown from the car,” Hunter said, “unless someone else was behind the steering wheel to do it.”

  “Not only that, but Lindsay was thrown out of the passenger side of the car,” Joshua said. “That’s how she ended up with a bruise outlining the gas cap door on her shoulder.”

  “And for some reason you believe it was Elizabeth Collins driving? Her best friend—”

  “And drinking buddy,” Hunter said. “I’ve talked to quite a few witnesses who claim those two were tight, and they saw them together the night of the accident.”

  “I’d interviewed witnesses at the time of the accident, too,” the sheriff said. “They told me that the two of them had been eating pizza and drinking down in Chester Park. I’ve talked to Elizabeth myself.”

  “I saw your notes in the file, sir,” Hunter said.

  “Elizabeth told me that Aaron, her husband, had picked her up at the park about eleven o’clock,” the sheriff said. “Aaron had offered to drive Lindsay home because he saw that she was under the influence. She’d refused and they’d left her there alone with a bottle of vodka.”

  “Maybe it was one of her other friends from the park who’d driv
en her home,” Hunter said.

  “No,” Joshua said. “It had to be Elizabeth.”

  “But Aaron says—”

  “Aaron is lying to cover for his wife,” Joshua said. “The Collins home was less than a mile from the accident.”

  “The Collins lived in the trailer behind the Ellisons,” Hunter said. “Even highly intoxicated, Elizabeth could have walked it.”

  “Could have,” Sheriff Sawyer said. “‘Could have’ doesn’t mean she did.”

  “Heather Davis told us last night that she and Lindsay had a fight that night.”

  “That’s in my report, too,” the sheriff said. “That’s why Lindsay went out drinking.”

  “With Elizabeth,” Joshua said. “The Collins lived in the lot behind the Ellisons. Elizabeth was there all the time. Heather told me that Elizabeth fed the fight and got Lindsay all worked up. The last time Heather talked to Lindsay, Elizabeth got on the phone and said that Lindsay had fired her as her sister. A couple of hours later, Lindsay was dead.”

  “I admit that’s an awful last conversation to have with your sister before she’s killed,” Sheriff Sawyer said, “but it was a couple of hours before the accident. Aaron apparently picked Elizabeth up right after that call.”

  “I’ve raised daughters,” Joshua said. “These two were teenagers at the time. Teenaged girls. They were drinking and doing drugs. We’re talking about a cocktail of hormones and booze and chemicals. That creates drama.” He leaned across Sheriff Sawyer’s desk. “My gut is telling me that even if Aaron did swing by to pick Elizabeth up, she and Lindsay would have been too worked up to stop.”

  “Josh,” the sheriff said, “you’re the prosecuting attorney. It’s your decision about picking up Elizabeth Collins. Are you really going to sit there and tell me that if I went to you with this”—he held up Hunter’s report—“that you’d go for it?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “Do either of you have any proof, evidence, that Elizabeth was the one behind the wheel to turn the tires out of that skid?” Sheriff Sawyer asked. “Anyone see her get behind the wheel of Lindsay’s car on the night of the accident?”