Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3 Read online

  Cricket ran inside to the den and found her usual spot on the back of the sofa.

  I followed her in. “Don’t tell me you got a third computer monitor,” I removed Brutus’s leash. “Seriously, are you planning to take over the world or what?”

  He bent down to scratch the dog’s ears. “Important people have lots of equipment.”

  “Really? You should put that on a t-shirt.” I sat down on the sofa and Cricket batted my ponytail. “So what’s this news you wanted me to hear? I had to cut my workout short just for you.”

  “Really? I thought I saw you leave your house not that long ago.”

  It was hard to lie to someone who had constant ears and eyes on the neighborhood. “What are you now, my mother? Actually, my mother wouldn’t care what I did. She’s too busy entertaining the movie crowd and trying to figure out how to cash in on Mr. Squishy’s death on her property.”

  “But wouldn’t that be more likely to turn guests away rather than draw them in?” He walked over to his desk and sat.

  “You would think so, but you can’t convince my mother of that. So what did you find out?”

  Jake flicked on the center monitor. “Did you know that this latest incident wasn’t the first crime in Cascada involving a clown?”

  “What? Do you mean there has been a rash of clown deaths lately and no one has mentioned it?”

  “No,” he chuckled and patted the chair next to his. “Come look at this. I found an old article archived from the Albuquerque Observer. It was part of their weekly news round-up from across the state. Read it.”

  I leaned in and read aloud. “‘Cascada area residents should be on the lookout for a man dressed in a clown costume who broke into several businesses and homes. The unidentified man stole items worth more than five thousand dollars according to the Cascada Sheriff’s Department.’” I looked up at Jake. “When was this?”

  “The article is dated 1982. I searched online for anything else written about the case but came up empty.”

  I read it again. “Do you think this could possibly be related to Mr. Squishy?”

  “That’s the big question.”

  “Maybe there’s a record of the case in the sheriff’s office. But what are the chances of Grady looking into it?”

  “I’d say slim to none.”

  I was afraid of that. “If this article was a round-up of area news, then maybe it was in the Cascada Gazette, too. I’m going to head over to the library to check it out.”

  Jake nodded. “Old-school research. I’m impressed.”

  “Right now, it’s all we’ve got. Might as well check it out. But even if it turns out Squishy was the clown burglar, what good would that do us?”

  “It could lead us to friends and acquaintances.”

  “Or enemies and accomplices.” Cricket jumped off the couch and into my lap.

  “Right. Leopards don’t change their spots, and that goes for clowns, too. Maybe someone wanted this guy dead who we don’t know about. Too bad his cousin Freddy isn’t around to give us more information.”

  Just hearing Freddy’s name got my back up. He was looking more suspicious all the time.

  Cricket must have sensed my anger and let out a screech.

  “Don’t worry, girl, we’ll get this case solved and then you’ll get to be an only child again.” I stood up to leave.

  “Don’t forget this one.” Jake pointed across the room to Brutus.

  The sleeping dog opened one eye at the sound of his name.

  “I guess I’ll drop him off at my house. Curtis will be mad when he starts barking again, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  “Have you tried leaving the TV on for him? Sometimes dogs feel like they’re not alone when there’s noise in the house.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll give it a shot. You’ll make a great dad someday.”

  Jake stood up and took the leash. “Actually, I don’t think you’re allowed to leave your kid home alone with just the TV going. But I could be wrong.”

  “Well, we’ll figure it out when the time comes.” Oops. I couldn’t believe I just said that to his face. It’s like I was already planning our future together. I turned around to hide the blush rising in my cheeks.

  Jake brushed it off. “Hopefully, kids come with an instruction manual. So, are we still on for Friday night?” He bent down to put the leash back on Brutus and gave his head a scratch. “By the way, Nancy has plans, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

  “Plans? Does she have clients that night or what?”

  His face turned stoic the way it does when he’s lost in thought. “She just said she was busy.”

  I grinned and nodded my head, but I knew. Jake had made sure Nancy would be unavailable so we could go out alone. That was fine by me. It would be our first official date.

  Chapter 19

  “You’re the first person to ask to use the microfiche machine in years,” Clara, the head librarian, said. “This is so exciting!”

  You’d have thought I’d told her she’d just won the lottery.

  After finding the old film reel of the 1982 edition of the Gazette, she led me to a small carrel in the back of the library. When she pulled the plastic cover off the large machine, dust flew everywhere.

  Coughing and swatting at the floating particles, I felt ancient. I had used one of these machines back in school. Maybe I was getting old and dusty, too. Pretty soon, I’d be wearing support hose and using rose water like Gran.

  Clara extolled the wonders of the microfiche, but all I heard was “wah-wah-wah.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it.” I took a seat. “I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”

  Once alone in my cave, I began scanning through the pages of the newspaper, stopping occasionally to look at an interesting headline or photo. Something caught my eye. It was an article about the Waterfall Lodge with a picture of my dad and his uncle holding up a big string of fish. I skimmed the article. Apparently, they had won a bass fishing contest. My father looked so young with his long, stringy hair and dark mustache. He reminded me of my brother.

  My stomach clenched at the thought of how things used to be. As my mother said, “We used to be so close.” All of us.

  But this was not the time to get all weepy about the past. I needed to focus on the task at hand. I zoomed ahead to the week in question. There it was in big, bold letters: “Crooked Clown Burglarizes Businesses, Homes.” I read through the article.

  Score. I found a lead. The article mentioned an address where one of the robberies had occurred. Apparently, a child had seen a man dressed as a clown the night of the home invasion. The details were sketchy, but it gave the name of Deputy Benjamin Jeffries who was working on the case.

  The name of the officer didn’t sound familiar. Chances were he was long gone from Cascada since the crime had occurred more than thirty years ago. Still, it was a start. I snapped a picture of the screen since the archaic machine wasn’t hooked up to a printer. My hopes were rising that this case was related to Mr. Squishy. After all, how many shady clowns could there be in one small town?

  I texted a message to Jake with the deputy’s name, hoping he’d be able to track the man down. After telling Clara I was finished with the microfiche, I started to leave when someone called my name. I turned around to find Leslie Harper’s friend Susan.

  “Funny seeing you twice in two days,” she said with a smile. “Are you here to help with the book sale?”

  “What? No, I was just doing some research.”

  “Too bad. We could use some extra muscle sorting through all the donated books. Leslie just hasn’t been herself since the party on Saturday. Maybe she’s coming down with something.”

  Something like a bad case of “cheating husband syndrome.” Apparently, she hadn’t shared that germ of info with her friend.

  Susan stared into the distance. “I really hoped she wouldn’t start drinking again, but...” She looked up at me as though she’d just rem
embered I was there. “Oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  I put my hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” My other hand was behind my back with my fingers crossed. What I didn’t say was that I would keep her secret as long as it didn’t relate to the death of the clown. “How long have you two known each other?”

  She blew out a sigh. “Since the womb. Our mothers were best friends and were pregnant with us at the same time. Sometimes they’d even dress us alike and try to pass us off as twins.”

  I felt a tinge of envy. My own best friend had moved out of state when I was twelve, and I’d never found anyone with whom I’d felt the same connection. Until Nancy, that is. “It’s great that you two have stayed so close all these years. Good friends are hard to find.”

  “I know. We’ve been through a lot together, but we’ve always had each other’s backs. Marriage and divorce and now this thing with Preston and that awful clown. She’s had a tough year.”

  It was time to go fishing. “Actually, that’s why I’m here doing research. I’m hoping to figure out what really happened at the party.”

  She bristled. “But they arrested a woman. I heard she admitted she locked him in the freezer.”

  “Not exactly. She said she locked the freezer, not that she locked the clown inside. Sheriff Grady has jumped the gun on this one.”

  “This is all Preston’s fault.” The veins on Susan’s neck began to throb. “I wish Leslie had never met him.” A scowl wedged its way across her face. “I hate to say this, but there are some people who are better off dead.” She turned and stormed off.

  What did she mean by that? Was she blaming Squishy’s death on Leslie’s husband? I remembered Leslie had mentioned it was Preston who had been insistent she hire Gwen Palmer to organize the party. Was that what she meant?

  I knew better than to try to talk to Susan in the state she was in now. Besides, the library was about to close, and I had a howling dog and precocious cat waiting for me at home. If it hadn’t already been dark out, I’d have driven by the address mentioned in the newspaper. But that would have to wait until morning.

  For now, I just had to hope that Preston Harper wasn’t going to be the next person to turn up at the morgue.

  Chapter 20

  Small mountain towns were often overlooked but certainly weren’t off the grid. Still, GPS directions were a little sketchy in places like Cascada, but you could usually get to the general vicinity you were searching for. I pulled up to the house on Casa Grande the next morning before going to the studio. It was one of the bigger houses in this part of town since most of the large residences were in the upper canyon.

  The old adobe house was in desperate need of repair. It sat back from the road behind a wooden fence with peeling paint and missing boards. The name on the mailbox was faded and the flag on the side was bent.

  Did anyone still live there? The old structure had a neglected, abandoned look. I walked through the gate up the path to the front door, leaning in to listen for noise coming from inside. When I didn’t hear anything, I knocked. I waited and then knocked again.

  When no one came to the door, I walked around the side of the house. A large woodpile and some chickens indicated the house was occupied. The yard was littered with rusty bikes and deflated sports balls. An old plastic sandbox in the shape of a turtle was filled with muddy snow.

  The news article about the robbery said a child at this house had been an eyewitness and had seen the clown. How old would that child be now?

  As I circled back to the front door, it flew wide open as a gray-haired woman in a floral housedress waved a rolling pin at me. “What are you doing snooping around my house? Are you a bill collector?”

  For a moment, I thought I was being accosted by the old lady who lived in a shoe. Perhaps she had so many children she didn’t know what to do. “No, ma’am. I’m Wendy Fairmont, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

  “What are you selling?” she asked, lowering the rolling pin.

  “Nothing. Honest. I was just trying to find information about something that happened in this house back in the eighties. Were you here back then?”

  “Heck no. I’m just renting the place. I’ve been here about five years is all.”

  Was this going to be a dead end? “Oh, I see. Then do you know the name of the owners?”

  “Nope, but not because I don’t want to help you out. I make my check out to a management company. I have no idea who the actual owner is.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “And I pay my rent on time. Well, usually, that is. The owners aren’t as quick to make repairs as they should, so I figure I don’t have to be as fast getting them my check, if you know what I mean.” She tucked the rolling pin under her arm. “The only reason I stay here is because the place has lots of bedrooms. I’ve got a bunch of kids, most are grown.”

  This wasn’t exactly the information I was hoping to get. I thanked the woman and headed back to the studio. I needed to know who owned that property in 1982. Maybe I could do a title search? How long would that take?

  As I got out of my car, it hit me. Nancy might be able to access the information I needed. After all, she was in the real estate business. I walked down the square to her office. She owed me a favor after our visit to the falls. Or did I owe her a favor? No matter.

  I found her slumped over a steaming cup of coffee as though she were getting a facial. “What’s with you?” I asked, looking at her eyes. “I haven’t seen bags that big since Ikea opened in Dallas.”

  She yawned. “I was up late last night. Didn’t get my beauty sleep.”

  “Out on a big date?”

  Blushing, she took a swig of coffee. “No, not exactly. We were talking on the phone...”

  I crossed my arms. “So who is he? Jake told me you were busy Friday night, but I didn’t believe him.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s...complicated.”

  “Complicated as in Leslie and Preston Harper complicated?”

  “If you’re asking if he’s married, the answer is no. It’s new. By the way, why are you here at the crack of dawn? Trying to coax me into going on another one of your wilderness adventures?”

  I decided to let her keep her secret, at least for now. “I need a favor. If I give you an address, can you figure out who owned the property back in the eighties?”

  She leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. What’s this about?”

  I explained Jake’s lead and the police report from the newspaper. I gave her the address and she said she’d see what she could do.

  “Thanks, girlfriend,” I said. “I owe you one.”

  “You mean you owe me another one.”

  “Ugh. Friends don’t keep score.” I stood up to leave. “Have fun on your date.”

  “You, too.”

  I planned to. However, I could have more fun if I didn’t have Myra’s arrest hanging around my shoulders. Maybe this lead would pan out and the whole affair would be history by the weekend.

  Chapter 21

  When I got back to the studio, I had an email from Leslie Harper with a list of picture numbers and sizes she wanted printed from the party. With my fancy new printer, I could make enlargements up to eight-by-ten. Anything bigger would have to be sent off. Luckily, she only wanted smaller prints.

  I pulled up the shots on my computer and loaded the machine with paper. The prints looked great, if I did say so myself. Most people couldn’t appreciate stop action and depth of field, but I knew the prints were awesome. I wondered which one she was planning to use in the newspaper? I needed to remind her that they’d have to give me a photo credit.

  Just as I was finishing up, Jake called.

  “I was able to track down Ben Jeffries. He left Cascada in the mid-eighties and became a detective with the Albuquerque Police Department. He retired in 2009, but I found a phone number for him.”

  This wa
s just the good news I was hoping to hear. “You’re a genius, you know that?”

  “It pays to have connections.”

  “I’m going to call him and see if he can tell me anything about the burglary. I’ll let you know if I find anything out.”

  I called the number Jake gave me. There was no answer. When the voicemail message came on, I hung up. What exactly was I going to say? I thought about it a few minutes and called back. This time I left a message.

  “This is Wendy Fairmont in Cascada. I was calling to see if you remember any details from 1982 when a man dressed like a clown robbed some businesses and houses.” That may have been too specific. I quickly left my phone number and hung up.

  Chances were he would hear the message and assume it was from some lunatic. I decided to give it a few hours and then try again.

  The buzzer rang on the front door and I walked out to see who it was.

  “Myra!”

  She looked like she’d just gotten off a desert island. Had they not let her bathe while she was in jail?

  “I’m free, I’m free!” She threw her arms around me and I had my answer about the bathing.

  When she let go of my neck, I took a step back. “What do you mean? Did they drop the charges?”

  “No, I’m free on bail. But my lawyer says we can beat this rap.”

  “Really? Who’s your lawyer?”

  “She’s a new attorney in town assigned to my case. Get this, I’m her first client. Isn’t that great? She says she wants to start her career off with a win.”

  I tried to maintain the smile on my face. Poor Myra, she was so naïve. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that someone straight out of law school was obviously going to be full of confidence and optimism. It didn’t mean she could win the case. “That’s...super.”

  “I can’t wait to see Brutus. Thanks so much for taking care of him while I was in the slammer. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble. When can I get him?”

  “I have a client coming by to pick up some pictures or else I’d go with you now.” Just as I said it, in walked Leslie Harper.