Mistletoe is Murder : A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 6) Page 10
Jessie sighed. “I’ve never met one of those myself, personally. I’m beginning to doubt they even exist.” She turned to Lottie. “You couldn’t think of anything else?”
Lottie shook her head.
“Okay,” Jessie said, scrolling through the contacts list on her phone. “What do you think of Ray? He seemed very reluctant to let the chief look at his emails just now. It was almost like he was hiding something.”
Lottie shook her head. “I don’t know him well, but he always seemed like a good man. Clintock’s Meats has a reputation for being honest and ethical. Why wouldn’t he let you see?”
“I don’t know,” Jessie said, finding Ken’s number and turning away. “It seemed strange. All we needed was a minute or two to verify that the email you received wasn’t the one he sent.”
“You think he’s the one behind all this?” Lottie asked with a shiver.
“Like I said, I don’t know,” Jessie said. “Do you think it’s something he’s capable of?”
“No,” Lottie hissed. “But then this doesn’t seem like anybody I know, so maybe I’m a very bad judge of character.”
“I don’t think it’s that,” Jessie said, hitting dial. “I think we’re dealing with somebody who’s a very skilled manipulator.” She paused. “Oh, hi Ken. It’s Jessie.”
She made her way out into the hallway. The others knew what had happened, but Jessie hated talking on the phone when there was any background noise.
“Hello Jessie.” He sounded flat and lifeless.
“You heard about the second murder.”
“I did.” He paused. “We should have thought this through more, Jessie. I can’t help but feel responsible.”
Jessie shook her head. She knew that feeling, but she couldn’t let him blame himself—not after she’d been the one to push for the false headline. “No, Ken. Remember our conversation? You told me several times that the news shouldn’t be suppressed or distorted. It was me who pushed.”
He chuckled softly, regret clear in his tone. “Yes, but I shouldn’t have let you push me.” Ah, Jessie.”
“Ken,” she said. “Please. If you have to blame anybody, please blame me. But know that I did it for good reasons. Now everyone knows that Lottie isn’t the killer.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. It was lucky that this was Ken she was talking to, but still—she shouldn’t have just come out with that statement. “Darn it, I need to be more careful.”
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking about that. So you carried out your plan the way you described it to me? You stayed with her?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said. “We were prepared to do that for weeks if that was what it took. I never expected the killer to react so quickly or in such a deadly way.”
“That was naive,” he said, sounding maudlin again.
“I know.” She shook her head. The chief had assured her that she wasn’t the one in the wrong; that the blame lay at the killer’s feet. But hadn’t she provoked them? She sighed. It was a moral dilemma she knew she’d never find the answer to.
“Anyway, Jessie, that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Lottie—specifically her safety. What happens now?”
Jessie shrugged. “I guess we rally around and take turns staying with her? Mel suggested witness protection but she dismissed that idea immediately. She doesn’t want to just abandon her life here because of some psychopath.”
He was silent for a few moments. “Do you think that’s enough?” he said finally.
“Chief Daly had the same concerns,” Jessie said, shuffling to her bedroom and wandering inside. She sat at the end of the bed and kicked off her shoes, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t see what other choice we’ve got.”
“I have an idea,” he said hesitantly. “One that I hope might go some way to put right the mistake I made with Saturday’s paper.”
“Go on.”
He cleared his throat. “This goes against every principle I’ve got, but if it helps keep another person from getting murdered… Jessie, who knows that Lottie was framed for these murders?”
She lay back on the bed and tried to keep from yawning. “Me, Aunt Bee, Melanie. Lottie herself of course. The chief. You.”
“Good,” he said, sounding more resolute than before. “In that case, I know what we need to do. I’m going to splash an exclusive all over my site and run it as a headline in the next edition. We already know the killer pays attention to the Chronicle. So let’s show them what they’re dying to see.”
“Which is…?”
“Lottie being locked away for the crimes she committed.”
Chapter 23
Jessie dialed off and peeled herself off the bed. Now wasn’t the time for a nap, no matter how tantalizing that prospect seemed.
No sooner had she put down her phone than it buzzed again.
“Chief,” she said. “What’s—”
“Jessie,” he interrupted. “What are you doing? I’ve been trying to reach you.” The background noise indicated he was somewhere busy and crowded. He had to yell over it to be heard.
“Sorry, I was on a call,” she said, shuffling back into her shoes. Something about his tone told her she’d be leaving the house again pretty soon. “What’s up? You sound agitated.”
“Two things,” he said. “I called in a favor. Judge Conners signed a warrant for Ray Clintock’s emails. And I’ve received the coroner’s report for Tom Rushe.”
“Great,” Jessie said, hurrying to the door. “Sounds like progress—finally. What does the report say?”
“I haven’t had a chance to read it,” he said. He must have moved away or closed a door, because the background noise quickly died away.
“Where are you?”
“At the courthouse,” he said. “And you?”
“At home.”
“Be ready in five minutes. I’ll come pick you up on the way to Clintock’s.”
“Should I call him? Tell him to meet us there?”
“No,” the chief said, clicking his teeth. “Let’s try and keep an element of surprise. He’s probably already gone through his emails and destroyed anything useful.”
***
Exactly five minutes later, Chief Daly’s cruiser pulled up to the curb outside Jessie’s little house. She was waiting for him with a box of cookies in her hand.
“Aunt Bee thought you could use a snack,” she said, handing him the Tupperware box and climbing in.
He smiled. “Very thoughtful of her. Can you open it? I want to get over there as soon as possible.”
“Sure.” Jessie pulled off the plastic lid and held the open box out to him. Her mouth watered at the sight of the cookies that Bee had baked just that morning.
She took a cookie and sat back.
“Do you think we’ll find anything?” she asked, mouth full of buttery cookie.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll find what we find.” He gestured to the glove compartment. “The coroner’s report is in there. I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet.”
Excitement surged in Jessie at the prospect of finding something that might lead them to the killer. “May I?”
“Of course,” he smiled. “That’s why I told you where it is. Have a look; tell me if there’s anything interesting.”
Jessie opened the glove compartment and pulled out the single manila folder it contained. She threw it open. Her eyes drank in the words greedily—she didn’t have the patience to read through it slowly. Disappointed grew within her as she skimmed through the sections. She sighed and flipped the page.
Half of the medical terminology was lost on her, so she didn’t know what she was expecting to see. Maybe something that jumped out. She read through a second time, more slowly this time. She sighed and closed the folder.
“Nothing?” Chief Daly asked, eyebrows raised.
Jessie shook her head, almost too disappointed to speak. “No. Well, nothing that we didn’t already know. Cause of death, blunt force tr
auma to the head. Consistent with the golf club found at the scene.”
She stared at the chief, waiting for him to reveal something—anything—that might bring them closer to the truth. He stayed silent, his eyes focused on the road ahead of them.
Jessie stared out the window for the rest of the journey. Who was this person, she wondered. She found it hard to believe she crossed paths with somebody so callous on a daily basis. They’d managed to murder two people and avoid leaving a shred of evidence behind them—so far.
“When do you expect the DNA analysis of the second crime scene to be completed?” she asked.
Chief Daly shook his head. “I called the lab and asked them to expedite, but it’s a bad time of year for this.” He frowned. “I even told them that a woman’s life was at stake—still they said they’d see what they could do and they couldn’t give me any promises.”
Jessie smiled. “At least I’ve got some good news out of all this. Ken offered to print a story saying that Lottie’s been arrested for both murders.”
Chief Daly raised his eyebrows.
“Good news, I would have thought?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. When’s the next paper due? That’s a couple days from now, right?”
“Yeah,” Jessie sighed. “But he’s going to put it on the website too. Splash it on there prominently.”
“It’s something, I guess. I’m just not sure if it’ll hold back our perp. I called Pete on my way to collect you and asked him to head on over to keep an eye on Lottie.”
Jessie watched his profile. She didn’t like the way the muscles in his jaw were twitching. “This one is scaring you, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He glanced at her before returning his focus to the road. He thought about it for a few seconds. “Yes,” he said simply.
“But you must have chased thousands of criminals in your career,” she said, aware that she was babbling nervously. “Why this one in particular? I’ve never seen you this on edge during an investigation.”
“It’s because we’ve got nothing, Jessie,” he said, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Nothing except evidence that points to a woman who couldn’t possibly have carried out the last murder. Oh and a difference of opinion over the content of an email from a man who wasn’t at the party.”
Jessie bit her lip. “He could still have done it. Are there any links between him and Tom Rushe?”
“Not that I’m aware of—but that’s just the police databases. Both victims and Ray are private citizens in the eyes of the law. We don’t have lists of their known associates—well, we didn’t have those for the victims until after they died. Ray Clintock hasn’t come up in our inquiries.”
Jessie nodded. None of this made any sense. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out how somebody who wasn’t in the café could have tracked David Fairway to the bathroom.
Her eyes snapped open.
“David’s cell phone records,” she said urgently. “Have they been examined?”
“Yes. It wasn’t so urgent because of where the evidence pointed, but I had Pete order them just in case. There were no calls since early that morning. And that was to a friend in Stanleyton who has an alibi.”
Jessie sighed. “Oh. I thought maybe…”
The chief shrugged. “No, the call would have appeared on there. He doesn’t have a second cell phone.”
“What if,” Jessie said excitedly. “What if he’d somehow gotten access to David’s phone? He installed one of those tracker apps. All he’d need to do would be sit somewhere close by and wait for him to start moving.”
This time, Chief Daly didn’t laugh. He glanced at her, eyebrows cocked. “Do you have that app?”
She shook her head. “Chief, the only app I’ve got that didn’t come with my phone is a cooking app. What if it was a—”
“We’re here.”
She glanced up. She’d been so absorbed in her theories that she hadn’t noticed when they pulled off the highway and entered the vast industrial wasteland where Clintock’s office was based. She shuddered. Lottie was adamant that they were known for their ethical and cruelty-free practices, but this place was as far from pastoral paradise as Jessie could imagine.
“I don’t suppose that warrant covers his cellphone?”
Chief Daly laughed—there was no humor in it. “You suppose right. Judge Conners isn’t that lax with access. I’ve got a warrant to examine Ray Clintock’s emails as well as the company’s Mailblast account. That’s as far as it goes.”
Chapter 24
There was no sign of life at the Clintock offices. Chief Daly paced around the front of the building, trying to peer in. Jessie copied him without any luck. The windows were covered with a tinted film that prevented anyone looking in from the outside.
“I’ll call him,” the chief said, coming back to the front door again. He tapped at his cell phone and waited.
Jessie started at the sound of tinny music. It was faint but distinctive, and one thing was clear—it was coming from inside the building.
Chief Daly grunted and put away his phone, swiftly replacing it in his hand with his firearm. “Stay behind me,” he muttered.
He stepped forward and knocked sharply on the aluminum part of the door. “Police. Open up. We know you’re in there.”
They waited.
The yard was eerily silent. Jessie looked around, paying attention to the other buildings in a bid to calm her thumping heart. The building seemed ominous all of a sudden—she didn’t know why, it was just like any other industrial lot built in the eighties.
“Open up,” the chief yelled, banging on the door again.
This time it shook against its hinges. Jessie started from the sudden noise. There was no way anybody inside could have failed to hear that.
“It’s okay, Jessie,” the chief said gently. “Just be sure and stay behind me. I’ll keep you safe. Maybe he left his cellphone at home, but we’ll just be extra cautious in case…”
Jessie could tell from the way he held his gun and the alert look on his face that he didn’t think this was down to Ray’s forgetfulness.
“I’m coming in,” the chief shouted.
Jessie moved so she was directly behind him, trying not to think of how cowardly she was being. After all, it made sense. She didn’t have a weapon. Chief Daly stood back to get some traction and Jessie moved out of his way just in time.
Just as he was moving toward the door, foot raised, it opened a crack.
“Don’t,” Ray said in a small voice. “Please don’t. It’ll take forever for them to send somebody out to fix it. Especially at this time of year.”
Chief Daly stepped past him. “I have a warrant to examine your emails as well as the Mailblast login for your company.”
Ray groaned. “Oh come on. I’m busy here. I’ve got last minute—”
“You’re telling me you were in there working? That you couldn’t hear me? All of the lights were off.” Chief Daly stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to hide from me?”
The chief didn’t wait for Ray to lead them to his office. He marched purposefully across the office floor. Ray turned to Jessie.
“You won’t find anything on there.”
“Great.” Chief Daly sat behind the desk and looked around. A moment later he grabbed the mouse and moved it back to the right side of the keyboard. He double clicked. A drop-down menu appeared. “What’s going on here?” he muttered. “Why won’t it—”
Ray leaned in and clicked the right button. He went to great lengths to place his body between the chief’s eyes and his keyboard.
“I wouldn’t be so concerned about privacy,” the chief said breezily. “We’ve got guys who can crack those passwords in seconds if we need it.”
Ray shuddered but said nothing.
Chief Daly stared at the desktop for a moment before double-clicking on the email program. Another drop-down menu appeared. “What is up with this mouse?” he said, shaking it.
The chief double clicked awkwardly. They waited as the program loaded up.
“Let’s see,” he said, navigating to Sent Items. “This would have gone to Lottie Benson at around one on the sixteenth.”
“I told you,” Ray grumbled. “It was sent from Mailblast.” He leaned over and grabbed for the mouse.
“Please stand back,” Chief Daly said with a grimace.
Ray stood away holding his hands up. “Sorry. I was just trying to show you where it is.”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Okay,” he said, leaning in to point at the screen. It seemed to Jessie that he was angled awkwardly, but she stayed behind them, resting on a filing cabinet and staring around the office to try and see if there was anything else amiss.
It was meticulously tidy: there wasn’t one sheet of paper on the desk or on any other surface in there. Jessie knew from her days of working in offices that that was at odds with his claim that this was a busy time for them.
“Your office is very neat for such a busy time,” she said as casually as she could, knowing she didn’t have the practiced indifference of the chief. That came with time and experience.
“So?” Ray snapped. “I’m a neat person. What exactly are you trying to say?”
Jessie sighed and shrugged. She still had a long way to go before she’d be able to cast subtle implications that weren’t telegraphed by her over-casual tone.
“Jessie,” the chief grunted. “Why don’t you go have a look around the office?”
“Now, wait a moment,” Ray blustered. “Let me see that warrant.”
Chief Daly reached in his pocket and held it out with a flourish. He sat watching as Ray skimmed through it. Finally, Ray sighed.
“This warrant covers my emails and Mailblast. It says nothing about the rest of my premises.”
“Fine,” the chief shrugged. “So can we get on with it? Can you tell me the password?”
This time, he rolled out of the way as Ray lunged over his shoulder at the keyboard.