Real Murder (Lovers in Crime Mystery Book 2) Page 6

  “What did you hear?”

  “Mike’s aunt was Ava Tucker.”

  Ava Tucker! My dream! Or was it a dream? No, memory. There was an old woman—back when I was first promoted to homicide and—

  “Cameron, are you okay?” Jan Martin was calling to her through the phone line. “Are you still there?”

  Blinking, Cameron rubbed her aching head. “What did you say, Jan? Something about Ava Tucker.”

  “Well, we were all little kids—Mike, Josh, and me,” Jan said. “I do remember her though. She had quite a reputation. I heard that a man actually killed himself because she had broken his heart. Gorgeous. I used to look at her with her perfect figure and she wore the shortest mini-skirts and high heels. Red hair. She reminded me of Ann Margaret. She dropped out of high school. Never graduated. Went away. Then, she came back into town, and I do remember hearing rumors that she was Mike’s birth mother—but I never saw or heard anything that proved it.”

  “What happened to Ava Tucker?” Cameron asked.

  “I …” Jan’s voice trailed off. “I don’t really know. I can search through the archives at the newspaper to find out. Why? Do you think it’s a clue?”

  “Maybe,” Cameron replied.

  Before she could hang up, Jan stopped her. “I almost forgot why I was calling,” she said. “Want to go to lunch?”

  “Is there ice cream involved?”

  “Yes, Cricksters,” Jan said. “Every other Monday, the ladies in our neighborhood get together for lunch. Some stay-at-home mothers and a few elderly ladies who don’t get out much. There’s about a dozen of us. Since none of them had a chance to meet you, and Josh asked me to keep an eye on you, I thought I’d invite you to come along. I’ll drive.”

  “Buy me ice cream and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  Chapter Six

  The official medical examiner’s office was down the river in Weirton. However, Dr. Tad MacMillan usually performed his autopsies in the morgue located in the basement of the hospital in East Liverpool, Ohio, directly across the river from his home, and where he was a doctor on staff.

  Not a popular place to visit, the morgue was eerily quiet—silent enough for Tad MacMillan to be catching a nap when Joshua stopped in for a briefing on his findings during Mike Gardner’s autopsy.

  Upon stepping through the swinging doors, Joshua discovered his cousin sound asleep on the cold steel examination table with his arms folded across his chest. Unable to resist, Joshua crept forward and bent down to bring his lips to Tad’s ear before shouting in a voice mocking a small child, “Daddy! Wake up!”

  With a gasp, Tad jumped so hard and fast that he almost rolled off the table. Seeing Joshua doubled over with laughter, he eased his feet down to the floor. “Very funny,” he said with sarcasm. “I’m glad my sleep deprivation is such a source of enjoyment for you.”

  “I told you that you’d get yours,” Joshua said. “I had to wait twenty years, but you know what they say about revenge—its best served cold.”

  “Revenge?”

  “Twenty years ago?” Joshua said. “We came back home to visit. Grandmomma and Valerie had gone to a church meeting and the twins were taking a nap … so was I when a certain little devil came in and drew a mustache and beard on me with permanent marker.”

  Recalling the incident, a slow grin came to Tad’s lips.

  “I had to go to the doctor to have it removed,” Joshua told him.

  “But you looked so cute.” Cocking his head at him, Tad noted, “I thought you had court today.”

  “The defense copped a plea,” Joshua said. “Another B and E guy is going behind bars and I got off early to come wake you up from your late morning nap.”

  “Why don’t you go home and spend some time with your bride?”

  “Because she’s on her way to Cricksters with yours,” Joshua said.

  “Oh yeah, today is the hen party.” Stifling a yawn, Tad went over to his desk and picked up a clipboard with a report attached to it. “How well do you think Cameron is going to fit in with the neighborhood hens?”

  “As long as they don’t get between her and her ice cream sundae, they’ll be fine.” Joshua turned to follow him. “Is the ID positive?”

  “Dental records were a match for Mike Gardner.” After handing the report to him, Tad plopped down into his chair. “C.O.D. is gunshot to the face.”

  Joshua cringed. “Was it from his gun? Did they find his service weapon?”

  Shaking his head, Tad shrugged. “Last I heard, Sawyer sent a crew back to the park to search the bottom of the lake. It wasn’t in the car. However, they did find a slug inside the car that’s a match for Mike’s gun. It’s a nine millimeter. That matches the size of the hole in his face.”

  “Then it appears that the killer disarmed Mike and then shot him in the face with his own gun?”

  Tad got up and went to the drawer where Mike’s remains were resting. He pulled out the drawer and lifted the sheet to reveal the skeleton. “I suspect Mike was already down and out when the killer finished him off.” Lifting the skull from the drawer, Tad showed Joshua a crack along the side of what had once been his friend’s head. “There’s a long hairline fracture along the left side of his head. It looks like it could have come from a blunt instrument, like a ball bat or something that could have knocked him down and incapacitated him, maybe even knocked him out so that the killer could disarm him and then shoot him in the face with his own gun.”

  “And then put him in the car and dump it in the lake,” Joshua said. “I doubt if they’re going to find any evidence in that car after it’s been sitting in the bottom of the lake for almost two decades.”

  “Makes you think that instead of meeting a confidential informant for the case he was working on,” Tad said, “he met the murderer he was looking for.”

  “I guess the best place to start now is to find out the identity of that prostitute.”

  “Are you really a homicide detective?” The tiny lady’s eyes sparkled like those of a star-struck teenybopper meeting her heartthrob.

  With a grin, Cameron glanced across the back seat to the elderly woman who, in the year since she had met Joshua, she had never formally met.

  Dolly Houseman lived alone in the red brick house across the street from the Thorntons and the MacMillans. Joshua and the MacMillans made it their duty to look out for the lady who had no family. Joshua would take her garbage out to the curb and take the can back into her garage. Tad would mow her lawn and do yard work for her. If she needed any home repairs, one of them would make sure it was done either by himself or an honest repair person. Sitting with her in the back seat of Jan’s SUV, Cameron was the closest to Dolly that she had ever been.

  Not over five feet tall, Dolly didn’t appear to be even an ounce over one hundred pounds. Her hair was blue-gray. Her face was so wrinkled that it resembled a road map. Yet even at her advanced age, she sat with dignity in her blue suit with matching pumps and handbag.

  “Do you carry a gun?” Dolly asked Cameron.

  “Always,” she replied.

  “Have you ever shot anyone?”

  Cameron answered, “Yes, I have.”

  She was surprised to see the little old lady clap her hands with glee. “Oh, this is so exciting.”

  “I think it’s terrible,” Lorraine said from the front passenger seat. “There’s too much violence in the world. Women strapping on guns and shooting people. If they outlawed guns, then people wouldn’t be shooting at each other.”

  “If they outlawed guns, then only the crooks would have them and innocent, law-abiding people would have no way of defending themselves.” Cameron would have said more but caught a warning look from Jan in the rear view mirror that ordered her to let it go.

  Another exceedingly elderly woman, Lorraine Winter lived up the street from Rock Springs Boulevard. M
uch to Cameron’s displeasure, Jan had stopped to pick up the most unpleasant woman in the neighborhood to give her a ride to the restaurant. Tad Junior was being cared for by a babysitter to allow Jan a break.

  Donny joked that even the snakes avoided Lorraine Winter’s house and backyard. Within minutes of Lorraine climbing into the front seat across from Jan, Cameron saw that Donny might not have been joking. Tall and broad shouldered even without shoulder pads, her appearance was intimidating. With her long gray hair in a bun tightly secured to the back of her head, she was frightful in presence as well as in attitude. Armed with an opinion about everything, Lorraine Winter was a woman who was itching for a fight.

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Lorraine said with a shake of her head.

  “How is my defending myself as a police detective wrong?”

  Turning in her seat, Lorraine shook her finger at Cameron. “Did you ever think that maybe those suspected criminals who you shoot at have been wrongly accused and that they are defending themselves from unfair prosecution and that is why they are shooting at you?”

  “Are you for real, lady?” Cameron managed to get out before Jan announced that the weather was perfect for their luncheon. Once again, she caught Jan’s warning look in the rearview mirror.

  Cameron wondered if the ice cream sundae was worth spending a couple of hours with Lorraine, who then launched into a declaration that the last good president the country had had was Dwight D. Eisenhower. Abruptly, Cameron became aware of Dolly’s hand on hers.

  The little old woman was smiling at her. “How good of a detective are you?” Dolly asked in a whisper.

  “I like to think I’m pretty good.”

  “Have you ever caught a killer?”

  Cameron pointed to her black eye. “Got this arresting one yesterday.”

  Again, Dolly clapped her hands. “Splendid. I’m looking for a detective.”

  “Really?” Cameron asked. “For what? Have you got a case?”

  “Oh, yes,” Dolly said. “Someone murdered one of my girls. It was a long time ago and no one has ever captured her killer. I’m an old woman and before I die I would so like to see her killer get justice.”

  “Your girl?” Cameron cocked her head at her. “I didn’t know you had any children. Why did I think you’ve never been married?”

  “Oh, I’ve never been lucky in love,” she said, “but I had eight girls.” She sighed. “They’re all gone now, though. Oh, Ava was the most beautiful one of all. Long hair that was the color of an Irish setter. Sexy green bedroom eyes. Legs up to here and the perkiest breasts you ever laid eyes on.”

  “Ava?” Certain that her concussion was affecting her hearing, Cameron shook her head to clear her ears.

  Dolly continued, “And her tush was nothing to sneeze at either.”

  Again, Cameron caught Jan’s eye. She was slowly shaking her head.

  Cricksters was a 1950s retro diner almost directly under the Chester Bridge on Carolina Avenue. It was Cameron and Joshua’s favorite place to eat. It served everything from burgers and sandwiches to full dinners. It also had an ice cream bar that served Cameron’s favorite dessert, the C & J Lovers’ Delight—created especially for the newlyweds.

  If her silver fox was there, she would order and share it with him. But since he wasn’t, she was forced to settle for a two-scoop hot fudge sundae with everything. But first, down to business, she needed to eat lunch … or did she?

  What are they going to do if I skip the meal and head straight for dessert? Shoot me? Lorraine probably would, or worse, she would say something to make me shoot her. Then Josh will have to come visit me in prison and talk to me through bars. If that didn’t put a damper on our marriage …

  After they parked, Lorraine jumped out of the SUV and scurried inside, which left Jan and Cameron to help Dolly out of the backseat and across the parking lot to the door.

  Jan grasped Cameron’s arm as soon as they were out of the SUV and quickly gave her the lowdown while they went around to Dolly’s side of the car. “You need to be patient with Lorraine.”

  “No, I don’t,” Cameron replied.

  “She’s had a hard life,” Jan said. “Her husband died suddenly, leaving her with a son to raise by herself, and then he committed suicide.”

  “How awful.” Cameron couldn’t imagine if Donny had taken his own life.

  “He was only twenty-four.” Jan paused with her hand on the door handle. “They found him hanging from a tree branch out in Raccoon Creek. Obviously, Lorraine never got over it.”

  “I can see why.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Dolly is a little …” Jan cleared her throat. “Senile. She’s never been married.”

  “Last I heard, you don’t have to be married to have children.”

  “Eight daughters?”

  “So she’s a slut with issues when it comes to birth control.”

  Jan squeezed Cameron’s arm. “There are no daughters, and there’s definitely no daughter named Ava who was murdered. Take my advice. Humor her, but don’t waste your time. It’s not a real murder.” She threw open the door and reached in to take the old lady’s arm to help her out.

  Inside Cricksters, Cameron ensured that she was sitting next to Dolly and as far away from Lorraine as she could get, which was a difficult maneuver because the diner was busy with the lunch crowd.

  Cameron recognized many of the faces of the customers. Most were regulars like her, including one of the men sitting in the booth directly behind the ladies’ table in the center of the restaurant. Sheriff Curt Sawyer was having lunch with two men and a woman.

  “Cameron,” Curt rose up in his seat to shake her hand. “That black eye is a real beauty.”

  “I’m proud of it.”

  Curt went on to introduce his guests. He gestured at the older man sitting next to him. “This is Phillip Lipton. He’s the head of the state crime scene unit in Weirton.”

  Cameron shook hands with the baldheaded man with thick glasses.

  Curt moved on to the distinguished looking couple sitting across from him. The woman looked very familiar to Cameron. An older woman who wore her silver hair in a straight cut down to her shoulders. The silver in her pantsuit matched the tone of her hair, along with her blouse and silver jewels. Her tall, slender—even regal bearing—made her age difficult to pin, though Cameron estimated that she was in her sixties. She had a tall, slender bearing.

  The man sitting next to her wore a dark suit and had black hair with a touch of gray at the temples. His hard-looking face had a square jaw.

  Curt introduced the couple. “Congresswoman Hilliard and superintendent of the West Virginia State Police, Colonel Henry MacRae, have flown in from Charleston for a briefing on Deputy Gardner’s murder. I invited Phillip to meet with us to go over what his people have put together from Gardner’s cruiser.”

  “Boy, you people sure got here fast,” Cameron said. “All the way from Charleston?”

  “Deputy Michael Gardner was a police officer,” the congresswoman said in a firm tone. “That gives this case the highest priority in my book. We need to send a firm message to the public that people don’t go taking out law enforcement officers, even if they are from the smallest of small towns. No matter how long ago the crime occurred, we will hunt down the perpetrators of these crimes—”

  “I’m not a resident of West Virginia,” Cameron cut her off. “So you can save your campaign speech for someone else. I’m still voting in Pennsylvania.”

  For the first time, the congresswoman turned to meet Cameron’s gaze. The smirk on the homicide detective’s lips served to set fire to the politician’s cold, pale blue eyes.

  Sitting on the outside of the booth, Colonel Henry MacRae, who was between Cameron and the congresswoman, broke off the stare down. “Actually, we came up here because this case is personal to m
e. I taught Mike Gardner at the police academy. I was sort of his mentor. I’m very interested in finding his killer.”

  “So is my husband,” Cameron said, “which makes me want to find him.”

  “Cameron is a homicide detective with the Pennsylvania state police,” Curt said.

  “Hey,” Phillip said, “I’m from Pennsylvania.” He told Cameron, “I started out with the state police.”

  “How did you end up in West Virginia?” Cameron asked.

  “I was offered the position of heading the crime lab,” he said. “Granted, we aren’t as big as the Pennsylvania crime lab, but there’s something to be said about being in charge.” The geeky-looking man grinned. “I guess I’m just a power hungry kind of guy.”

  “Well, Mr. Crime Lab, have your people found anything to tell us who killed Mike Gardner?”

  “We can’t find Gardner’s gun,” Curt said. “He was shot in the head, and they recovered the slug, which is a match with his weapon, but the gun itself is missing.”

  “I think we need to find out what case Gardner was working on,” Cameron said.

  “Good luck with that,” Curt said.

  Congresswoman Hilliard said, “I suggest that you not go jumping to conclusions. This deputy was only on the force for six months. He was a patrolman. Have you ever given any consideration to the possibility that it was a random hit by someone who had a thing against police officers, or maybe someone who had a personal grudge against him?”

  Cameron felt like reaching across the table to slap the congresswoman. What is she doing coming all the way up from Charleston to stick her nose into our murder case? Why doesn’t she go to Washington with the rest of the troublemakers and screw things up there? As much as Cameron wanted to announce that Mike was on his way to the park to meet with a confidential informant, she held her tongue. That information wasn’t for public knowledge. If the sheriff chose to share it with the congresswoman, he could, but Cameron wasn’t going to do it.

  “Hey, Cameron, are you with us or not?” Lorraine called out in a harsh voice.