Tropical Punch Killer Page 5

“Defensive wound,” Tim remarked. “We need a photo,” he pointed to a perfectly round mark on Leslie’s forearm.

  “She tried to protect herself?” Fiona was immediately caught up in the new clue.

  “Yes, and she also tried to escape from her attacker,” the coroner mused, moving down toward the foot of the slab. Fiona snapped several photos of the defensive bruise, then followed.

  “The killer grabbed her left ankle, and she tried to scramble away, injuring the top of the left knee, and the entirety of the right knee, as is evidenced by the abrasions and contusions,” he murmured. “We’ll need photos of all of this.”

  “Why wouldn’t her husband have helped her?” Fiona wondered, taking shots from various angles and distances.

  “Two possibilities,” Tim replied, having moved back up to examine Leslie’s fingernails. “Either he was attacked first, or he was the one who killed her and someone else turned the hammer on him,” the coroner theorized.

  “Whoa. Is there any way to tell for sure?” Fiona breathed.

  “Hard to say. Finding the murder weapon might help in that regard,” using tweezers, he extracted a fiber from beneath a broken fingernail.

  “What is that?” Fiona squinted over his shoulder as he peered at the find with his magnifying glass.

  “Based on the color, I’d say it’s a carpet fiber. If we’re lucky, it may have traces of the killer’s DNA on it.”

  “That would be great,” she nodded, grabbing an evidence container for her taciturn boss.

  He took the small container from her and dropped the sample into it. “Mark it as left forefinger nail.”

  Fiona did as he asked, setting the container aside.

  “I’m worried about you, Timmy,” she confessed quietly.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “We need to talk. Your job is on the line here, and although you refuse to acknowledge it, I know that’s gotta be at least part of what you’re brooding about.”

  Tim turned to stare at her, saying nothing.

  “You can’t just let this go. You have to either decide to campaign for the coroner position or decide to quit,” Fiona’s honesty was intentionally a bit brutal. She had to underscore the importance of the situation.

  He still said nothing, but sighed, seeming to deflate before her very eyes.

  “Let’s have dinner tonight and talk about this, okay? You can’t go on burying your head in the sand and hoping that everything will work out. It won’t work out unless you make it work out. I’m making beef stroganoff. Be there at six,” she ordered.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be done with the first autopsy by then,” he surprised her by saying.

  “If you’re not, then just put her back in the drawer. I’ll come back and help you finish up after dinner,” she allowed no excuses.

  “Or it can wait until tomorrow,” he murmured, staring into space.

  “Yeah, maybe it can,” Fiona’s stomach did a nervous flip.

  She’d never seen her boss like this. He might be introverted and mild-mannered most of the time, but he’d never seemed quite so…defeated.

  **

  “I’m not hungry,” Tim slumped into his chair at Fiona’s table.

  “Too bad, you’re going to eat,” she replied firmly, pressing a glass of cabernet into his hand.

  “I can’t drink this, I need to keep my faculties about me,” he protested, setting the glass down.

  “Oh trust me, you’re going to need this tonight,” Fiona remarked. “It’s time for some down-to-brass-tacks honesty and decision-making. A little liquid courage can only help.”

  Wordlessly, Tim picked up the glass and sipped at it.

  “That’s better,” Fiona nodded. “Where’s your dessert?”

  Tim always brought a pie that he’d made from one of his grandmother’s recipes when he came to dinner, but tonight he’d shown up empty-handed.

  “I couldn’t do it,” he mumbled.

  “Couldn’t do what?” Fiona sat down next to him, a concerned frown creasing her brow.

  “I couldn’t make one of my grandmother’s recipes knowing the situation that I’m in. She always knew exactly what to do in life and always did the right thing. Here I am at my age wondering if I should leave everything and start all over again,” he shook his head in disgust. “I couldn’t dishonor her memory with my incompetence.”

  “Okay, time for a reality check, boss. You got into that job without even applying because your skills were so outstanding that the police department begged you to take it. Now, just because the system is designed to have elections every so often, doesn’t in any way mean that you’ve somehow been rendered incompetent. We all have our shortcomings, and fortunately, I’m entirely comfortable working in areas that cause you fierce anxiety,” she smiled reassuringly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim sipped at his wine again and regarded her with suspicion.

  She topped off his glass.

  “What that means is that you can campaign and I’ll do all of the things that you find unpalatable. I can go out and meet people. I can be your spokesperson, and network with TV stations, radio shows and other media. I can make arrangements so that all of your interviews are done via email, and convince the public that it’s because you’re so dedicated to your work,” she proposed with a triumphant look.

  Tim paled and pushed his glasses up, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  “The whole process is nauseating,” he made a face.

  “Yes, it is. I agree, but it’s how things are done. You’re so talented, Timmy. You’re the best at what you do. It would be terrible to walk away from this. I’ll help you, and it’ll be fine. I promise. Then, once the election is over, things go back to the way that they were. It’s a little bit of short term discomfort, for a long term gain.”

  “How often are elections held?” Tim asked tonelessly.

  “Uh…every four years,” Fiona bit her lip.

  Tim slowly shook his head, studying the wine in his glass.

  “There’s a mortuary for sale in Fernandina Beach. I’ve been considering relocation,” he uttered the sentence without looking at her.

  Fiona swallowed hard.

  “That’s several hours away,” she whispered.

  His gaze locked briefly with hers, and he nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Excuse me for a moment,” she stood abruptly and hurried from the room.

  After ten minutes of waiting, Tim got up and turned off the large pot of deliciously aromatic stroganoff, which was fully cooked but staying warm on the stove. Standing uncertainly in the kitchen for a moment, he glanced toward the back of the house, where Fiona had gone, and told himself that it wasn’t sobbing that he heard. He lingered for what seemed like an eternity with his hand on the doorknob, torn, before finally turning it to let himself out. Closing the door quietly behind him, he headed for home, hands in his pockets, head down.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  Chas Beckett sat in his office at the police station, across the desk from Warren Holman, Athena’s older brother.

  “Thank you for coming down here today. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you sir. It was quite a shock.”

  “I can imagine,” the detective nodded. “I just need to ask you a few questions, so hopefully this won’t take long.”

  “I’ll try to help in any way that I can,” the young man nodded.

  “Do you know anyone who might want to harm your dad and stepmom?” Chas began.

  “No sir. They had a lot of friends and led a pretty normal life, as far as I know.”

  “Did they gamble, use illegal drugs, anything like that?”

  “Well, I mean…” Warren blushed and looked down at the desktop.

  “They can’t get in trouble at this point, and any information might be helpful, so don’t hold back,” Chas encouraged.

  “They smoked a little weed, you know, recreationally,” Warren shrugged. “But
other than that, no. And from what I remember, they knew the guy who sold it to them pretty well.”

  “Do you know who that is?”

  “No sir, I don’t remember. Sorry.”

  “No problem. How well do you know your cousin Chooch?”

  “He’d hang out at our house sometimes when I lived at home. He’s dad’s age, so I don’t know him really well. He seemed to always be in and out of trouble.”

  “Did he ever have disagreements with your dad or Leslie?”

  “Not while I was around, but I’ve been away at school for most of a couple of years now, so I don’t know anything about how they’ve been lately.”

  “What about their relationship with your sister?”

  Warren sighed. “They haven’t been as close as they once were. My sister fell into a rebellious stage starting in junior high, and I don’t think she’s completely out of it yet, so yeah, they had their issues.”

  “Do you know how they felt about her boyfriend, Trevor?”

  “No, I never heard anything about that, but I personally don’t think she made a good choice there,” Warren admitted.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. He seems like an okay kid, but his family is so messed up in so many ways. It just makes me wonder what he’s really like. I mean, how can he not be screwed up, coming from a family like that?”

  “What’s messed up with his family?”

  “They’ve been in and out of jail. His brother has probably done more to raise Trevor than their parents have, but he’s been in trouble too. I don’t know. I’m not judging or anything. It just makes me wish that my sister had picked someone less complicated, you know?”

  “Sure, that makes sense,” Chas nodded. “Has your sister ever said anything to you regarding how she felt about your dad and stepmom?”

  “No. We don’t talk much. I tried to tell her to work harder in school and not try so hard to act out, and she took that as an insult, even though I meant it as advice. That was a couple of years ago, and we haven’t really been close ever since. She’s gotta be traumatized by this whole thing, and maybe feels a little guilty too,” Warren shrugged.

  “Guilty? Why would she feel guilty?” Chas asked casually.

  “Because she spent so much time being rude and obnoxious? I don’t know.”

  “Your sister says that she was in her bedroom when the murders took place,” Chas pointed out.

  “Really? I wonder why she didn’t come out, or call the cops or something,” Warren’s mouth fell open.

  “She said she was asleep the whole time.”

  “But…her room is right next to the living room…how could she have slept through Leslie and Dad getting murdered in the next room?” he frowned.

  “That’s what I wondered.”

  “I mean, she’s always been a heavy sleeper, but…wow,” Warren muttered.

  “There’s always the chance that she was awake and heard what was going on, but was too afraid to leave the room or make a sound,” Chas suggested.

  Warren stared at him, speechless.

  “Do you think your sister could have killed your dad and stepmom?” Chas asked quietly.

  Warren looked down at his hands.

  “I don’t know. Maybe she could have…or maybe she and Trevor,” he swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t know what I would do if that were true,” he murmured.

  “Unfortunately, we have to consider all options. Are you going to be in town for a while?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to try to stick around until we find out what happened. My professors are allowing me to sit in on my classes via the web, so that I can keep up with my studies. This is heavy stuff, Detective,” Warren looked lost.

  “Yes. Yes it is. We’ll do our best to get to the bottom of it, Warren. Call me if you think of anything that might be of help,” Chas handed him a business card.

  “Yes sir, I will,” the young man nodded.

  **

  Warren Holman had no sooner left the office than a uniformed officer came in and knocked on the doorjamb before entering.

  “Hey Detective. Thought you might want to know, a couple of our guys just found what might be the murder weapon. They’re bringing it in to the lab right now.”

  “Thanks,” Chas nodded. “I have to run out to do an interview, but I’ll check in with the lab when I get back.”

  Grabbing his sport coat, Chas headed for the door. Something told him that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary day. He pulled up in front of Calgon Small Engine Repair and parked his nondescript police sedan. During one of Athena’s interviews with police officers at the scene, she mentioned her dad’s place of work, and it seemed like a good place to ask around.

  “Morning, Detective,” a rotund man greeted him, wiping his hands on an oily cloth. “What can I do for you?”

  “Have we met?” Chas was confused. He hadn’t called ahead.

  “Nope, I just recognize those bland cars a mile away,” the man laughed.

  “Gotcha,” Chas nodded. “Are you the owner here?”

  “Nope, I’m just a working stiff. Ralph Moyer at your service,” the man gave a mock salute. “The boss hardly ever comes in these days. He’s pretty much retired, but I can give you his phone number, if that helps.”

  “If I need that, I’ll let you know, thanks for offering. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Buddy, I got all day. The shop’s been pretty slow here lately,” Ralph smiled.

  “Good, I’d like to ask you some questions about Chet Holman,” Chas took out his notebook.

  “Sure,” he nodded, sobering. “It’s a crying shame what happened to him. I could hardly believe it when I saw it in the paper.”

  “How well did you know Chet?”

  “We were coworkers. I mean, we got along great, he was a real nice guy, but we didn’t hang out after hours or anything,” Ralph explained.

  “So, you never went to his house?”

  “I think I stopped by one time, a long time ago, because he needed a ride to work or something and it was on my way,” he frowned, remembering.

  “Did he ever have a bad interaction with a customer here, that you know of?”

  Ralph shook his head. “No sir, Chet was our customer service guy. If anybody came in unhappy, he’d have ‘em smiling by the time they left. Everybody liked him,” he shrugged.

  “That’s what I hear. What about in his Community Theater group? Did he ever mention having an issue with anybody there?”

  “Not that I know of. He said those people were a fun bunch. It’s hard to even picture him in a conflict.”

  “Did he ever talk about his daughter, or her boyfriend?”

  “He’d mention his daughter every once in a while. That girl sounds like a pistol,” Ralph chuckled.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “He didn’t say much, but I got the impression that she led him on a merry chase sometimes. I’m sure he was a great dad, but I just got the idea that she didn’t make things easy on him.”

  “Did he ever mention any of his cousins?”

  “Not that I can remember,” Ralph shook his head.

  “What about his wife? Did Chet talk about her?”

  “Oh yeah, all the time. That old boy thought the sun rose and set in Leslie’s eyes. It wasn’t more than a couple of weeks ago that he bought her a big emerald ring for their anniversary. He was so proud. Said she cried when she got it.”

  “I see…Do you think that Athena may have been jealous of her stepmom?”

  “Maybe so. I don’t really know. Her birth mama is long gone. She’s never had any contact with her as far as I know.”

  “Do you know her birth mother’s name?”

  “Nope, I sure don’t. Chet and I have been working here together for a few years, but she was gone long before I knew him.”

  “Did you have any disagreements with Chet recently?”

  “Nope, Chet and I were pretty much always right as rain.
We worked well together.”

  Chas closed his notebook. “Alright then, thanks for your time, Mr. Moyer,” he handed him a business card. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  “Yes sir, will do. You have a good day, Detective.”

  “Thanks, you too,” Chas replied, distracted.

  The detective was glad that the murder weapon had been found. Now he wouldn’t have to take the hammer he’d noticed on his way out into evidence.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  Spencer walked into Kaylee’s playroom with his massive cat tucked snugly under his arm. The loyal grey and white feline purred like a motorboat, her tail wrapped around Spencer’s waist, the tip of it flicking lightly in the small of his back.

  “Moose!” Kaylee jumped up, leaving her dolls behind, taking the cat, who seemed to be roughly half her size, into her arms.

  “What is that?” Mattie’s brows rose as she watched Kaylee like a hawk.

  “That, is Moose,” Spencer grinned. “She wanted to come see the girls. What are you doing up here anyway? You’re supposed to be resting,” he reminded her.

  “She’s telling me that everything I do as a nanny is wrong, that’s what she’s doing,” Kumar teased.

  “What?” Spencer pretended to be astonished. “Mattie being bossy? Say it isn’t so,” he ducked as she chucked a stuffed bunny at his head.

  “No throw toys,” Kaylee’s eyes went wide.

  “You’re right, baby doll. That wasn’t the right thing for me to do,” Mattie smiled at Kaylee, who went back to trying to put a bonnet on Moose, then turned a glare toward Spencer.

  “Look who’s being the bad nanny now,” Kumar chuckled.

  “Seriously though, why did you bring him in here?” Mattie looked suspiciously at Moose, ignoring the ribbing that she was getting from the two men.

  “I brought her in here because the girls love her,” Spencer explained.

  “You named a female cat Moose?” Mattie blinked at him.

  “I didn’t know that she was female at the time, and she’s pretty big, so it made sense,” he shrugged.