A Luring Murder (20 page)

“McMahan, must have seen her bring the body ashore the morning of the murders,” Louise said.

The three of us nodded in silence for a few minutes. The theory made sense. Too much sense. Why hadn’t we considered the possibility of Samantha being involved before?

Louise handed the newspaper back to me. “Let’s go get Samantha King.”

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head when he saw us. “Here I was hoping that I wouldn’t see you three until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Sorry to let you down.” I slid into the chair across from him. “As a consolation, we think we’ve solved your murders for you.”

A mud crusted Patrick King approached the bars of the cage behind the sheriff.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You found my fingerprints on my boat, or some other manufactured evidence. Where is Watkins anyway? Planting more evidence against me?”

“That’s enough, Patrick.” The sheriff swiveled around in his chair to face the cell. “Deputy Watkins went to get cleaned up after your childish display at the Marina. You two boys are never going to learn, are you? And look where it got you. In jail.”

Patrick gripped the bars and gritted his teeth. “Yeah, well I’m sure Watkins is going to make sure I stay in jail too. For life, or maybe twenty years, if I’m a good boy.”

The Sheriff turned back to us. “You found fingerprints?”

“No, actually,” Louise said and sat on the edge of Deputy Watkins’s desk. “Not even your prints, Mr. King?”

The mud on King’s face cracked and flaked off onto the floor when his brows drew together.

“Which is a bit odd,” I said.

“Well what
did
you find?” Patrick asked.

We looked at Digs, who looked like a deer about to become road kill. He wasn’t the spotlight kind of guy. More like a cyber-chatroom kind of guy; happy to be in the dark, alone with his hardware.

“We found blood.”

Abrupt. Not very eloquent. But straight to the point. Louise should find that quality very attractive.

Digs recovered. “When I sprayed Luminol, there were several places that blood had been cleaned. A lot of blood.”

“Jesus.” Patrick gripped the bars like if he let go he’d fall over. “I swear I didn’t kill Warren. I had no reason to kill him. You’ve got to believe me.”

“We do,” I said.

Both Patrick’s and the Sheriff’s mouths went slack and their eyes wide as if neither could believe what I’d just said.

“But you said you found blood,” Patrick said.

“Yes.” Louise approached the bars with a reassuring smile on her face.

“But you don’t believe that I killed Warren?”

“Nope,” I said. “You’re off the hook.”

The Sheriff tossed his baseball cap onto his desk, and then scrubbed his fingers over his scalp. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Patrick has a damn good motive.”

Patrick grimaced.

“You’ve found evidence on his boat, his alibi is shaky, and you don’t believe he killed Warren?”

Well, when you laid it all out end to end like that, I guess we did seem slow-witted.

“He didn’t kill Pease,” Digs said. “His wife killed Pease.”

“What?” Dried mud broke from Patrick’s face and fell to the floor. He looked like a crumbling statue.

Way to go, Digs. Throw tact out the window and go right for the kill. That’s why he was a lab geek and not a field geek. My status as the ultimate bull in the china shop was in serious jeopardy. I’d just been completely eclipsed by Digs in the tactlessness arena.

“You can’t be serious. You think Samantha killed Warren? Why? Samantha loved Warren. She has for a long time. I don’t understand why you would think that she had anything to do with his murder.”

The rapid-fire statements came out almost as one complete sentence without a breath.

“Calm down, Mr. King.” Louise used her,
let’s be reasonable
, voice.

“Why? Why would she kill him?” Patrick paced his cell gesturing wildly. “She has no reason. Unless. . .” He gripped the bars again. “Did he hurt her? Was it self-defense?”

Pain registered on his face at the thought of someone hurting his wife. Patrick King loved Samantha, even if she didn’t, or wouldn’t, love him in return.

Dread gripped my heart at the thought of having to tell him what her real motive would be in this scenario. Learning the truth about Samantha would hurt.

“We have no evidence to support a self-defense theory,” I said.

“I’m sure you’re wrong.” Patrick held the bars tight. His eyes pleaded with me to come up with a better answer, one that wouldn’t implicate Samantha. “There has to be another explanation.”

The Sheriff picked up the phone and started to spin the numbers on the old, Bakelite, rotary phone.

“Who are you calling?” Louise asked.

“Deputy Watkins. I want him to bring in Samantha, so we can get this mess straightened out.”

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Deputy Watkins escorted Samantha King in as if she were a lost child. She looked fragile in her petal pink, silk, tank top, white Dockers shorts, and white sandals.

She ran to Patrick’s cell. “I called Paul as soon as I found out. He’s arranging bail with Judge Baxter.”

“Mrs. King, please have a seat.” Louise turned one of the armchairs to the side and gestured for her to sit.

Samantha crossed the room and slid into the chair. Her features remained as placid as the lake on a calm day. Seeing my husband in a cell would have upset me to no end. I would have been hysterical, angry, tearful-I guess that was the difference between someone who loved their husband and someone who was framing hers for murder.

Behind bars is where Samantha wanted and expected, to see Patrick, so she had no reaction beyond that of the dutiful wife. Samantha King was porcelain cold.

“What’s happened, Sheriff?” She folded her hands in her lap. “Why did you call me in here? Did you find something when you searched the boat?”

Too calm.

Patrick leaned his forehead against the bars of his cell and whispered, “Samantha.”

Fingers squeezed my heart at the sight of his pain. From the strained look on Digs’ face, he felt it too. Louise’s face was as unreadable as ever, except a slight wrinkle above her left eyebrow.

“Is my husband being arrested for Warren’s murder?”

It wasn’t a question. She phrased it as an absolute. She could have just as easily said, my husband is a murderer, and it would have come out the same.

Deputy Watkins moved to stand behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you going to be all right, Samantha?”

A strange question considering she’d showed very little emotion so far.

She covered his hands with hers and looked up at him. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“God,” Patrick said. “Samantha.”

Patrick looked as if he were struggling with what his wife committing Warren’s murder meant.

“Samantha.” The Sheriff came around his desk. “These Detectives have some questions for you. Do you feel up to answering them?”

Why was everyone treating this woman with kid gloves? She wasn’t falling apart. There were no tears, no tantrums, just an infuriating calm.

“Of course, Sheriff. I have nothing to hide.”

“Don’t talk to them, Samantha,” Patrick pleaded with her from his cell. “We’ll get you the best lawyer I can afford. You don’t have to talk to them. Don’t tell them anything.”

“A lawyer? Don’t be ridiculous.” She looked from Louise, to me, to the Sheriff. “Why on earth would I need a lawyer?”

“Because murderers need lawyers,” I said.

Louise cracked a smile. Apparently, she didn’t mind my lack of subtleness this time.

Deputy Watkins’s hand dropped from Samantha’s shoulders. He took a step away from her and stared at me in disbelief. “What?”

Samantha narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s not very funny, Detective.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, Mrs. King.”

“I am not a murderer.”

Denial wasn’t enough of a reaction for me. This woman wasn’t weak or fragile. Samantha King was cold and hard. She had more metal than any of the men in this room could see. They couldn’t see past the soft, pink, friendly persona Samantha had crafted over the years with great care and skill.

Evil radiated out of her as clearly as if she had horns sticking out through her artistically coiffed hair. Louise watched Samantha with the same intense scrutiny as I.

“I have an alibi. I told you, I was with my husband.” She looked at him with contempt, as if daring him to contradict her.

“Really?” I asked. “If he was with you, what made you think he was under arrest for the murder of Warren Pease? If he’s your alibi, then you’re his.”

“Well, I don’t know.” She shifted in her seat. “Maybe you found out that the murder was committed earlier than you thought or something.”

Finally, the first crack.

“Anyway,” she said. “We were together that morning.”

Patrick lowered his head and shook it back and forth. “No, Samantha.”

“Your alibi is a lie,” Louise said. “Your husband told us where he really was the morning of the murder, and it wasn’t at home with you.”

She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. “And where exactly was he that morning?”

“Not with you,” I said. “And that’s all you need to know right now.”

Her eyes opened and burned with hate at Patrick. Then she looked me up and down like an animal sizing up its opponent.

“Why would I murder Warren? We were lovers. Everyone knows about our affair. Even Patrick.”

“You wanted to frame your husband for the murder,” I said.

She half smiled. “Why?”

“Because with a prenuptial agreement, if you’d left him, you wouldn’t have gotten a dime,” Louise said. “But if he went to prison for murder, you’d still have all the money, and no husband questioning your expenses.”

“Jesus,” Patrick said. “It’s not true is it, Samantha? You wouldn’t frame me for Warren’s murder, would you, Samantha?”

“No.” She stood and approached the cell. The concern on her face was well practiced. “Of course not, Patrick. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know how much I care for you, Patrick.”

She cared for him? Not love? Not even to save her own neck could she pull that ace out of the hole?

She
cared
for him so much that she cheated on him, and flaunted her infidelity all over town. I couldn’t believe that Patrick could buy this act, but he was eating it up, worm and all.

“But you did frame him for murder, Mrs. King,” Louise said. “You did a pretty good job of cleaning up after yourself. Unfortunately, for you, you missed one little thing, and if Digs wouldn’t have been called in, the evidence might have never been found. Too bad for you that Digs is the best.”

Digs pulled himself up straighter and blushed, at the compliment.

“What are you talking about?” Samantha hugged her arms around her waist. For the first time since she walked in the door, Samantha King’s assurance that she would get away with murder faltered. She finally looked worried. “What evidence do you have?”

“There was clay on the knife,” Digs said. “It’s the same type you used to create this pot.”

Digs held up the vase that Louise had purchased. Digs was taking a big gamble since we hadn’t actually run any comparisons. He gave a wide-eyed glance at me as if he were wondering if I would give him away. I gave a slight nod of my head to let him know I approved.

I was learning an all-new respect for Digs. I liked the reckless edge on him. From the appraising look that Louise swept over him, she found this new side of Digs appealing too.

“We can only guess at why you killed Bruce McMahan,” Digs continued. “We believe he saw you bring Pease’s body ashore, and confronted you about the murder.”

“Oh, Jesus, Samantha.” Patrick covered his face with his hands. The big man wept like a child.

Panic swept over Samantha. Her narrowed eyes fixed on Deputy Watkins, as if to ask him what to do.

“Samantha didn’t do it,” Deputy Watkins said. He crossed to her and patted Samantha’s arm reassuringly. “Please sit down, Samantha. Everything will be fine.”

“I’m afraid all the evidence points to Samantha,” Louise said. “We’re going to need to take Mrs. King into custody.”

“I know she didn’t do it,” Watkins insisted.

“How do you know?” The Sheriff asked.

Deputy Watkins took a deep breath in, puffing up his chest. He stared stoically into the distance. “Because I killed Warren Pease.”

This was new. We’d never had a confession so easily. Louise eased off the desk and made her way behind the Deputy, covering him, just in case he was ready to run – or worse.

“I killed Warren and tried to frame Patrick.” His gaze didn’t move. He stared at nothing. “Bruce saw me come out of the fish house. He threatened to tell the Sheriff if I didn’t pay him, so I had to kill him.”

“Why?” Louise said. “Why do any of this?”

Watkins didn’t look at Louise. “I wanted revenge for Patrick cheating me on our land deal.”

I couldn’t shake the notion that he was reading his confession from a cue card.

“You fucking bastard,” Patrick yelled and shook the cell door as if trying to rend it from its hinges. “You son-of-a-bitch. You murdered Warren, over some fucking land? Jesus! He wasn’t the nicest guy, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

Patrick’s reaction surprised me. If I was cheating on Gavin, I’m positive he would want me, and whoever I was sleeping with, dead. Not that Gavin had ever said as much, but I had seen him jealous once when an ex-boyfriend had gotten drunk at a party and kissed me. He’d insisted we leave the party immediately. I’d found his jealousy more than a little sexy, and he became a very lucky man when we got home.

Deputy Watkins shook his head. “It wasn’t just the land.”

“Then why?” The Sheriff said. “Why would you throw your life away, Thomas?”

Louise shot me a look I almost didn’t catch over Watkins’s shoulder. It was the
I’m not sure about this
look. She shook her head, no. There was something gnawing at her about this confession, but she was too far away to tell me what was on her mind.

Deputy Watkins took a step forward, and put a reassuring hand on Samantha’s shoulder, but didn’t look at her.

“I am in love with Samantha. I have been in love with her for as long as I can remember.”

Samantha let out a wail, dropped her head to her hands, and sobbed.

Now I knew this wasn’t right. If Deputy Watkins loved Samantha so damn much, then why had he been so hell bent on getting Louise to go out with him?

Deputy Watkins was like a dog in heat when he got near Louise. Now he expected us to believe he was so ass over teakettle in love with Samantha that he committed murder?

I don’t think so.

Louise narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head again. She didn’t have to tell me. I wasn’t buying it either.

“We were having an affair.”

“No,” Samantha cried behind her hands.

This was like a damned Greek tragedy. By my count, we had his and her affairs happening; one for Patrick, and two for Samantha. This small town was deceptively innocent on the outside, but it was all sex and resentment on the inside.

This town might be an interesting place to live after all. No wonder everyone in a small town was into everyone else’s business. I might have to go home and get to know my neighbors. If there was this much intrigue in a small town, I had to find out what was shaking in Saint Paul.

“Samantha?” Patrick dropped to the floor as if he’d been kicked in the balls.

His wife had been unfaithful. Patrick had known about one of the affairs, and come to accept her infidelity with Warren Pease over the years. But for Samantha to betray him with a man he couldn’t stand, was more than he could bear.

My heart cracked in half. I wanted to put my arms around Patrick and comfort him. I wanted to tell him that Deputy Watkins’s confession was a pant load.

Were Louise and I the only ones not buying the heartbreak act, Samantha and the Deputy performed with all the skill of soap opera actors?

“I couldn’t stand the idea of Samantha being with Warren,” Watkins said. “The murder wasn’t premeditated. I went to the boat that morning to see Samantha, and tell her that her relationships with Warren and Patrick had to end. I wanted her to be with me. To marry me. I knew Samantha likes to sculpt on the boat in the mornings, but when I got there, she’d already left. Warren was there.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “My God.”

Watkins didn’t break his pace. “I was enraged at the idea of them being together, and I killed him.”

The Sheriff crossed to where the Deputy was and put his hand on Watkins’s shoulder, like a disappointed, but understanding father. The Andy Griffith Mayberry persona was now complete.

“I love her, Sheriff.” Watkins managed to work up a tear.

He nodded. “Are you willing to sign a written confession, Thomas?”

“Yes.” Watkins lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I just lost control. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I understand. Love can make us all do crazy things,” he said. “It’ll be all right, Thomas.”

No, it really wasn’t going to be all right. He was confessing to two murders, a frame up, and a cover up. Deputy Watkins was going to jail for a long, long time.

Louise pulled me aside while the Sheriff found a pen and paper for Deputy Watkins to write out his confession. She shot a look toward Digs and inclined her head. He joined our huddle.

“What do you think?” She asked.

I glanced at Samantha, then Deputy Watkins. “No way. I’m not buying it. It was way too easy. Why would anyone confesses like that, when they’re about to get away scot-free?”

“Maybe he has a conscience.” Digs pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Especially, if he really loves her.”