Creamy Pumpkin Killer Read online

  “No, but he hung out with all of those country club people. None of them liked me. I know that they talked about me when I wasn’t around.”

  “Whose idea was it to kill your husband?”

  “Renny’s.”

  “Renaldo Jimenez?”

  “Yes. His visa was about to expire. I had told him that at some point, I’d get a divorce and then we could be together, but he was afraid he’d have to leave the country before that happened, so he said that if we killed Dale, we could make it look like a burglary, then live off the insurance money and Dale’s business.”

  “So Renaldo tied you both up?”

  “Yes. Dale was supposed to stay asleep, but he woke up when Renny came in, so Renny had to punch him out so that he didn’t fight.”

  “Did he tie you up before or after he shot your husband?”

  “After. I didn’t want to get blood on me when it happened, so I went into another room until it was over, then Renny came and got me. He tied me up and I got on the bed and screamed after he left. I had told Dale to leave the safe open so that I could put something in it. I didn’t have the combination, so he had to open it.”

  “Did Renaldo use a silencer?” Chas asked, as if he were simply talking about the weather.

  Alison nodded.

  “For the tape, is that a yes?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Where is it?”

  “He dumped it in the sewer somewhere between here and his house.”

  “You sent him a very large sum of money recently.”

  Alison paled and started to tremble.

  “It was a loan. He needed to pay off some things in his business,” she said quietly, avoiding Chas’s eyes.

  “Mrs. Edmunds, did you pay Renaldo Jiminez to kill your husband?”

  She winced when he said it.

  “No.”

  “Mrs. Edmunds…?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Chas prodded.

  “No, I didn’t pay Renny to kill Dale!” she screamed, dissolving into tears. “He made me do it. I didn’t want to help. He made me lie there beside him, tied up, not knowing when someone would find us. He made me, he made me,” she sobbed, hysterical.

  Chas glanced at a uniformed cop standing in the back of the room, then moved his eyes to the door. The officer took the hint, helping Alison Edmunds to her feet and out of the room. She’d be spending time in the Calgon jail until formal charges were brought.

  Shortly after Alison was secured in her cell, Renaldo was brought in. He sat in his molded plastic chair bouncing one leg rhythmically up and down, his eyes darting nervously about the room.

  “You killed Dale Edmunds,” Chas greeted him calmly.

  “No sir,” Renaldo slowly shook his head to and fro.

  “Alison sang like a canary. She told us all about it. How you made her do it because your visa was expiring. How you tied her up, used a silencer to kill her husband, then threw it in the sewer, stole their stuff, and threatened to kill her too if she ever said anything,” Chas embellished, going for dramatic effect.

  “That ain’t true,” Renaldo seemed genuinely astonished. “She paid me to help her. She said that her husband abused her, and that he was going to kill her. She said she wanted to be with me, so that if I helped her, she’d give me money for my business, and then we could get married.”

  “How much did she pay you to kill her husband?” Chas asked.

  Renaldo recited the exact amount that Ringo had discovered when he looked at Alison’s bank account.

  “You met Dale Edmunds on several occasions, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Renaldo, did he seem like an abuser to you?”

  “I don’t know. Not really, I guess.”

  “And yet you took her word. She said he was going to kill her, and you killed him first.”

  “She acted scared,” Renaldo faltered.

  “And you knew that she was just acting, didn’t you? But you killed Dale Edmunds anyway, because you needed a way to stay in this country, isn’t that correct?” Chas leaned over the table toward Renaldo.

  “No. She made me do it. She said she’d go to the police and say that I’d done all sorts of horrible things to her if I didn’t help her. I didn’t want to go to jail or get deported, so I went along.”

  “You didn’t want to go to jail or get deported, so you committed murder? Do you see why that’s a little unbelievable from where I sit? It seems to me that you did it because you wanted to get the money and the girl.”

  “No, she made me do it, I swear.”

  “But you’re the one who brought the silencer. You’re the one who pulled the trigger.”

  “She told me to. She said she loved me. She said it was the only way,” Renaldo mumbled, in shock.

  “Get him out of here,” Chas said quietly to the uniformed officer who’d just returned after securing Alison in her cell. “We’re done here.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  “So, whose story do you believe?” Missy asked, wide-eyed, when Chas told her what had transpired in the early hours before dawn.

  “I don’t know. Neither’s telling the whole truth, and they’re clearly both involved. I think they both plotted it and each thought that they could get away with it. Illicit love can be an ugly thing.”

  “That’s awful. How someone could do that to their own husband… I just can’t even wrap my head around it,” Missy shuddered, snuggling closer to her husband.

  The couple was having a late breakfast. Missy had asked Beulah to open this morning, so that she could catch up with Chas and all that had happened. He’d come in at daybreak, and had only slept for a few hours, but was planning to face the day after a few cups of strong coffee and half-dozen of Missy’s finest cupcakes.

  “Did that awful Solinsky have any idea?”

  Chas shook his head. “Not even after Tim Eckels told him that he’d found grass in Dale Edmunds’s hair.”

  “What did Spencer find for evidence when he went to the landscaper’s house?” Missy asked.

  “There was a coil of the orange cord that was used to tie up Dale and Alison in his garage, and when he went in the house, he found a plastic bag of all of the items from the safe and the jewelry box tucked away in the tank of the master bedroom toilet. We got a warrant to search the premises, and the forensics guys found a set of clothing in Renaldo’s trash that had gunshot residue which matches the residue found on Dale Edmunds’s gun.”

  “So they’re pretty much sunk then,” Missy mused.

  “Pretty much. It all depends on the jury of course, but this case is quite strong.”

  “Spencer said that Dale’s sweet mama died shortly after he went to see her,” Missy said softly. “It really seemed to affect him for some reason. He gave me a really big hug and thanked me for making him a part of our family. It was precious, but it made me worry about the poor guy. I hope he’s okay.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Chas was distracted and Missy followed his gaze out the window. “Speaking of family,” he mumbled.

  Regina Walker had just pulled up in the circular drive.

  “Oh my gosh,” Missy whispered, color draining from her face. “Did I forget another appointment?”

  Chas shook his head. “No. I know for a fact that they didn’t make a follow-up appointment before they left. This must be about something else. I hope Kaylee is okay,” he got up and headed toward the door, opening it immediately after Regina had rung the bell.

  “Good morning,” she greeted them. “I’m glad that you’re both here. Can we talk?”

  “Oh, my,” Missy exclaimed.

  “What?” Regina looked confused.

  “It’s just always been my experience that whenever someone says ‘we need to talk,’ it’s never good news,” she replied, leading the social worker inside. “Coffee?”

  Her hospitality was a reflex.

  “No, thanks, I won’t be staying long, I j
ust wanted to update you on what’s happening with Kaylee’s case.”

  “Please, have a seat,” Chas offered her a chair in the breakfast nook so that he and Missy could finish their coffee.

  “Thank you,” Regina smiled and sank into a chair.

  “Is it bad news?” Missy blurted, reaching for Chas’s hand.

  “Not exactly,” the social worker hedged a bit.

  “Not exactly? What does that mean?” Missy squeezed her husband’s hand so hard that the tips of her fingers turned white and she didn’t even notice.

  “Well, as you know, Kaylee’s father’s family is interested in petitioning for custody, and…” she began.

  “But, didn’t you guys say that they’re unfit? That there’s no chance that they’ll pass screening? What’s going on?” Missy badgered her.

  “Sweetie, let her talk. She’ll tell us what’s going on,” Chas murmured in her ear, disentangling his fingers from hers so that he could rub her back in a soothing manner.

  “Whether they’re unfit or not still needs to be determined, and since they’re in another state, it’s up to that state’s Child Advocacy division to do the screening of the family. Unfortunately, they’re backed up for months,” Regina explained.

  “So poor little Kaylee has to be in the group home for months while we wait for that family to fail their screening?” Missy’s mouth fell open in shock.

  “Well… due to the circumstances, we’re trying to petition the court to allow you to foster her in the meantime, but you’ll have to be screened for that too.”

  “When will we know what the court decides?” Chas asked calmly, holding his wife as she trembled.

  “They’re not even going to be able to look at the case until the next week or two,” Regina replied apologetically.

  “Okay, is there anything we can do to assist in the process?” Chas asked.

  “Yes, you can write a letter to the judge, and you can be present when the case is heard.”

  “We can do that,” Missy nodded breaking out of her reverie.

  “Good. In the meantime, just continue to visit. That little girl talks about you two and Miss Beulah all the time,” Regina smiled warmly.

  “Thank you,” Missy said, tears springing to her eyes.

  “No, Mrs. Beckett… thank you. The love that you show for this child is the part of my job that helps keep me going. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll do what I can on my end.”

  “We will,” Missy dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin, left over from their quick breakfast.

  Chas walked Regina to the door.

  “We really appreciate your effort in all of this. How optimistic are you about the results?” he asked quietly.

  “For fostering, I’m almost certain that the court will allow it. For custody, who knows. If the family is connected at all to law enforcement or the judiciary up there, it could go either way, honestly,” Regina confided, her face lined with concern.

  Chas nodded.

  “Keep us posted?”

  “Absolutely,” Regina waved on her way out the door.

  When Chas returned to the kitchen, Missy was hunched over the table, doing something.

  “Sweetie, what are you doing?” he asked, a hand on her back.

  Missy popped up, tears streaming down her cheeks, pen in hand. “I’m writing the letter to the judge. I feel so helpless, Chas… what more can we do?” she sobbed.

  He stood beside his tender-hearted wife, taking the pen gently from her hand.

  “First, we’re going to sit down together to discuss what we want to put into the letter. That needs to happen after you’ve calmed down a bit so that you can focus and help me make it the best letter ever written. Second,” he tilted her chin up so that she would look into his eyes, “we’re going to go visit our girl every chance we get, and we’ll ask if we can take her offsite to do fun things. And last,” he kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips, “we’re going to love each other and love her and hope for the best. Okay?” he whispered, drawing her into his arms.

  “Okay,” she nodded against his chest, her tears dampening his shirt.

  Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott

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