Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3 Read online

  “And Liv is your ex-girlfriend.” I sounded like a jealous drama queen, but I didn’t care.

  “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Jake. Nancy told me. By the way, you’re as bad an actor as your mother.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I tossed my clutch purse onto the dashboard. “You know what I’m talking about. ‘Oh, Lars and Margo. I’m so surprised to see you.’ Surely you don’t believe that was a coincidence that they showed up?”

  Jake shook his head. “Is this the wine talking? I sure hope so.”

  “Are you saying Nancy lied to me and you never dated Liv?”

  “No. Yes, we dated. But I broke up with her. I’m not interested in her, believe me.”

  I kept my mouth shut the rest of the way home.

  After giving me a goodnight peck on the cheek, Jake hurried back to his car and sped off. Actually, he probably just drove off as normal, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had sped away from me to her. Who could blame him really? I was a mess. Who wants to date a girl who’s cranky with a touch of psycho?

  Chapter 12

  The pounding in my head the next morning answered the question of how much wine I had drunk. Too much. The room spun like a disco ball when I forced open my right eye. Maybe my left eye would be better.

  Nope.

  And wouldn’t you know, this was a day when I had three photo shoots scheduled. I forced my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, replaying last night’s disaster in my dizzy head. I’m sure I owed someone an apology. Or maybe everyone. I pictured myself standing at the front door as Jake drove off and realized he was at the top of the list. I had acted like a witch. And not the “Glenda, Good Witch of the North” kind. More like the one who had a house fall on her.

  And that’s exactly how I felt. I rubbed my temples.

  Cricket lay curled up at the bottom of the bed. She raised her head to look at me, then put it down in disgust. No sympathy there.

  After a long, long shower, I began to feel better. The events of the previous evening returned. I was still annoyed about how things played out with Liv. Sure, their families may have been catching up on old times, but Jake didn’t have to chuckle so often at Lars’s lame jokes. Even Nancy seemed to enjoy the conversation.

  What a waste of a razor blade. I could have shown up in jeans and a sweatshirt and been just as invisible. I checked my phone for messages, hoping I’d have a message from Jake or Nancy or both. Nothing.

  Although I was generally a pleasant sort of person—at least on the outside—I had a stubborn streak as well. Maybe it was pride or some other defense mechanism, but I knew I would be waiting for Jake to make the first move. Until then, I had work to do.

  Besides my appointments, I needed to work on Elizabeth Chavis’s graduation pictures. A busy day of work was just what I needed. If Jake called to talk, I could put him off until after work. Then maybe he and I could spend a quiet evening alone making up.

  When I got to the studio, the temperature was colder inside than usual. I hoped this wasn’t the day the heating system chose to take its last breath and die for good. That was one repair job I couldn’t fix with duct tape.

  A banging noise from the storeroom made me stop in my tracks. It was different than the heater’s usual moans and groans. This could be serious. I walked to the back to find the door open and banging back and forth from the wind. I was relieved when I realized that it was the open door and not the furnace causing the drop in temperature.

  Then I flashed back to the broken window at my house. Coincidence? I rushed back to my office and practically screamed when I saw the mess. Everything was turned upside down and inside out. It looked like a hurricane had hit and then stayed awhile. The queasiness and head pounding from earlier came roaring back.

  This wasn’t vandalism. Someone was out to get me.

  IT WAS ALL I COULD do not to call Jake as I waited for someone from the sheriff’s office to arrive. I knew Jake would come running if I called, but this wasn’t how I wanted him to see me. Helpless and surrounded by drama...again. If there was one thing that made guys run away, it was girl drama. Besides, I had taken care of myself my whole adult life, and I didn’t need a man now. But if I did, that man would be Jake.

  I watched through the front window, expecting Deputy Morris again. Instead, Deputy Darnell pulled up in front of the studio. He was the hunky officer who was supposed to take my fingerprints but ended up assigned to check out Artie Becker’s camera. Maybe he had found some evidence that could prove useful.

  He tipped his hat when he came in. “I understand you reported a break-in here, is that right? And you had one at your residence yesterday as well?”

  “That’s right. This wasn’t a coincidence. I think this is related to the Becker murder.”

  “Well, ma’am, it would seem likely, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Was anything taken from your house?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Can you show me where the break-in here occurred?”

  “It was the back door.” I motioned for him to follow. “Here,” I said, pointing to the door. “I didn’t touch anything.”

  He pulled out a pair of white hospital gloves and put one on before examining the knob. “These old doorknobs are actually pretty easy to jimmy open. You wouldn’t even need a special tool. You should get this replaced with a dead bolt. Henry’s got some good ones down at the hardware store. They’re pricey but worth the few extra bucks.”

  Thank you, Bob Vila. When I need advice for “this old house,” I’ll call you. “But why are they targeting me? What do they want?”

  Darnell pushed the door closed and turned the lock. “Show me the rest.”

  I led him to my office and stood in the doorway.

  He whistled. “Whoever it was really did a number on this place. Anything missing?”

  “I have no idea. I waited for you to get here.”

  “Go ahead and look. If the perpetrator wore gloves, there’s no prints in here anyway. If not, we can lift one from that doorknob. I’ll take a look around the rest of the place while you look in here.”

  From what I could tell, nothing was missing. An old cell phone and small pocket camera were still in the drawer. You’d think a burglar would have wanted those. I picked up the papers and prints and set them on top of the file cabinet to be put back in order later.

  Darnell walked back into the office. “I didn’t see any obvious signs of an intruder in the rest of the place. Any luck in here?”

  “Nothing. Just like at my house.” I shook my head. “Deputy Morris had said it seemed like someone was looking for something specific at my house. I think that may be the case here, too.”

  Darnell pulled up a chair, turned it around backward, and straddled it like a horse. He looked at me intently. “I think you may be right, Ms. Fairmont. And I think it’s no coincidence that you were also the person who found the body of Artie Becker. Do you have any idea who may have done this?”

  I thought about it. The Boswells’ neighbor had said two men had gone into the house that morning. Obviously, only one had come out. Unless, that is, someone else was already there. That brought me back to my first suspicion. “Has anyone talked to Brett Boswell?”

  Darnell raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, I did. Well, Sheriff Grady and I did. He was as shocked about the murder as the rest of us. Why do you think he may have been involved?”

  “It’s just a theory, of course, but what if he had been at the house when Artie got there? Maybe he was stoned or hung-over. Maybe he was startled by Artie and killed him, thinking he was an intruder.”

  “But that would have been an accident. He could have just told us what happened.”

  “Do you really think someone like Brett Boswell would confess and take his chances on being believed?”

  “You have a point, but we checked out his alibi. Rock solid.”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “Really? Wher
e was he?”

  “At work up at the ski resort.” He pulled out his notes.

  “Are you sure? Did you check out his story with anyone else?”

  “Well, no. He said other people would verify it. That was good enough for the sheriff.”

  Of course it was. Sheriff do-nothing. “You need to talk to Alex Wright. He told us—me—that Brett was supposed to be there early that morning but showed up late. You can’t rule Brett out.”

  Darnell made a note. “Okay. I’ll check it out.”

  “And don’t forget to ask him where he was during my two break-ins.”

  “So when did this one occur?” he asked.

  I specifically remembered locking the front door when I left with Cricket. I hadn’t checked the back. “It could have happened anytime, starting from when I left yesterday until this morning.”

  “That will obviously make it harder to pin down. What do you think the burglar may have been looking for?”

  My frustration rose. “I have no idea. If something were missing, at least it would be a clue. What about you? Did you find any evidence on Artie’s camera that might give you a lead?”

  He shook his head. “All it had was video. Nothing we could use.”

  “Video? That’s odd. He was supposed to be taking pictures of the house.” I plopped down in my desk chair and laid back my throbbing head. “What were they looking for? What do they think I have?”

  Darnell scooted up his chair. “I want you to think hard, now. Did you see anything suspicious or out of place at the Boswell house when you were there?”

  “You mean other than a dead man with a camera strap twisted around his neck?”

  Darnell remained stoic.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days.” I went back through my movements on the day of the murder, trying once again to recall any forgotten details. But then I remembered something Sheriff Grady had said. “The sheriff told me you all found the weapon the killer used to hit Artie. Was it his camera?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “But maybe it’s a clue that will help me remember something.” I pleaded with my eyes.

  He rubbed his chin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’ve got to keep this under wraps.”

  Holding up my hand, I said, “I promise.”

  “It was a bookend.”

  I gasped. “Was it ceramic and shaped like a native warrior?”

  Darnell straightened his back and crooked his eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw the other one on the shelf. In fact, it fell off when I was waiting for you all to show up.”

  Darnell jotted something down. “Well, let’s get back to our timeline. While you were at the house, or maybe before you left, did you take anything with you? A bottle of water, any jewelry, camera equipment, or that bookend perhaps?”

  “No, nothing. I’m not a thief.” I jammed my hand in my pocket and felt for my cell phone, wishing again I could talk this over with Jake. “The only camera equipment I took was my own. And weren’t you the one who got it for me out of the bedroom?”

  “Um, that’s right.” Darnell sighed as though trying to come up with any possible explanation for the break-in. “Are you sure you didn’t accidently take anything?”

  There was that question again. I thought about it. I had put the key back in the lockbox and the remote control in the dresser drawer. Darnell picked up all my camera equipment and put it back in my bag. “I can’t think of a single thing.”

  “And where is that camera bag now?”

  I spun around in my chair and looked in the corner. Two lone tripods leaned against the wall where I normally kept my bag. Then I remembered it was locked safely in the back of my Jeep. But then panic returned. “My camera!”

  I raced into the room where I had taken Elizabeth’s graduation photos. To my relief, my camera was still on the tripod.

  “What is it?” Deputy Darnell asked as he came up behind me.

  “I was afraid someone might have stolen my portrait camera. But this is odd. The door for the memory card is open. I never leave it open. Dust can get in.”

  “So where is the memory card?”

  I unlocked the camera from the tripod. “In a file box on my desk, or maybe in my computer.”

  Where was the file box? I didn’t remember having seen it. I hurried back to the office. The box wasn’t on the desk or under it or under the chairs or next to the trash can or anywhere. It was gone. “Someone stole my file of memory cards! My entire business was in there. My entire life.” Tears began to flow.

  “And you’re sure they were all in that box?”

  “Yes. Deputy Darnell, you’ve got to find them. They are extremely important.”

  He adjusted his hat and looked straight at me. “I agree, Ms. Fairmont. And believe me, I’ll do everything in my power to find them.”

  Chapter 13

  Before I could take pictures of the Hinkles’ new baby, I had to get my camera bag out of the car and fish out a memory card from the side pocket. The thief had left me with none in my office. The baby slept like, well, a baby, which was good because I was in no mood to make goo-goo sounds at someone who would just as soon spit up on me as offer me a pleasant expression.

  My last appointment was with Polly to look at proofs. Luckily, I had backed them up on my hard drive. She had recently bought the flower shop and needed new pictures of the store to put in a brochure. She loved the pictures and chose about a dozen for me to enhance and print.

  As far as I knew, most of my recent photo shoots had been backed up except for the pictures of Elizabeth Chavis. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to call her back to retake them. But what were the chances Deputy Darnell would recover my stolen property? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

  Luckily, Henry had sent a guy down from the hardware store to install a new knob and dead bolt on the back door. After making sure everything was locked up tight, I ran home to change into my ski clothes. I was ready to confront Brett Boswell, and it couldn’t wait until our scheduled “lesson.”

  CRICKET STARED AT ME when I came out of the bedroom wearing my white ski bib and hot-pink parka. The swishing sound of my pants rubbing together must have set her on edge because she arched her back and hissed as though I were the Abominable Snowman. I tried to scratch her head, but the static electricity spiked her fur even worse. “I’ll be home soon. Keep your eye on the place.”

  She just looked at me with utter disdain.

  I couldn’t worry about her for now. I was on a mission. I needed Brett to admit where he was the morning Artie Becker was killed. Surely he knew that the cover-up was always worse than the crime.

  Well, not always, I suppose.

  Alex was away from the front desk when I got there. But a girl behind the counter stood giggling over something Brett was saying. I caught a snippet of his remarks. He was bragging about his latest downhill run.

  “Wendy,” he said and smiled as soon as he saw me. “I thought your lesson wasn’t until tomorrow.”

  “I decided I couldn’t wait that long to see you.” Barf.

  The counter girl rolled her eyes and walked over to straighten a stack of maps.

  “Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m free.”

  An obviously fake cough exploded from counter girl, who apparently disagreed.

  Brett took my arm and led me outside to a row of wooden picnic tables and chairs. “Are you really here for a snowboarding lesson or did you just want to spend time with me?”

  Trying not to gag, I grinned and said, “Caught me. How about we just sit and get to know each other a little.”

  “Sounds good to me. It’s been a rough day. First, back-to-back lessons, then a sheriff’s deputy showed up to grill me about that man who was killed.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Alex had me booked all morning without a break. I think he’s trying to kill me.”

  “No, I mean, was a deputy really
here to talk to you?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah. Wanted to know where I was Monday morning. Can’t a guy sleep in without being accused of murder?”

  Sleeping in? That’s a likely excuse. “You might have heard that I was the person who found the body. I was there taking pictures for Nancy Faro’s real estate company.”

  Brett’s whole body stiffened as though struck by a bolt of lightning. “No, I hadn’t heard that. It seems Sheriff Grady is trying to keep things under cover. Speaking of that, do you need a blanket or something?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Because I’ve been told I’m pretty good under the covers.” He gave me a “what do you think” look that nearly cost me my lunch. Seeing my reaction, he followed it with, “Too soon. I get it. You’re one of those girls who likes to be romanced. I can do romance.”

  “As appealing as that sounds, I was curious about the murder. I guess you were pretty shocked when you got up that morning and found Artie standing there in your house. What time was it?”

  “In my house? What do you mean? I didn’t stay over at my parents’ place that night.”

  I studied his face. He was either telling the truth or a really good liar. I had a feeling he might be both. “Look, Brett, I like you. I would hate to see you falsely accused of killing someone if it was just an accident.” I put my gloved hand on his. “If you tell me the truth, I can talk to the sheriff for you. His wife and I are...friends.” I choked out that last word.

  “You sound like that cop. I told him I was at work when it happened, and he asked if I had an alibi or a corroborating witness.”

  “And do you?”

  “Sure.” He motioned toward the building. “Alex will vouch for me.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not going to work, Brett. When we were here the other day, Alex told us you were supposed to cover for him and you were late, remember? And just a minute ago you said you slept late.” I studied his face. “Which was it?”