A Problem in Paxton Park, page 4
part #5 of Paxton Park Mystery Series
“If you’d like to get some water or take a break, we wouldn’t mind at all,” Jay said.
“I’m okay.” Imelda pushed her shoulders back. “I want to help. I want to help you catch the person who took Wilson’s life.”
“You and Wilson kept your own places?” Shelly asked.
“We did. I know it’s unusual, but we both liked having our own homes. We spent plenty of time at each other’s places. We liked it that way since we both enjoyed time on our own. It seemed to keep the magic in our relationship. It always seemed like we were out on a date when we were together.” Imelda shrugged. “It worked for us.”
“You and Wilson were together for two years? Was marriage ever discussed?” Jay asked.
“It was discussed, but always tabled. We felt like we were married to each other already. There was really no need to formalize what we had. I have two children from a previous marriage. Wilson and I weren’t going to have kids together. We didn’t see the need to have a ceremony to tie the knot … we’d already tied our hearts together.” A tear ran down the woman’s cheek and she dabbed at it with the tissue.
Buddy, the dog, hurried over and lay down at the woman’s feet.
Shelly’s throat tightened with sadness at what Imelda had lost with Wilson.
Jay coughed and asked, “When did you see Wilson last?”
“The night before he was attacked. He had dinner here. We watched a movie. He stayed over and went to work in the morning.”
“Did Wilson seem himself?” Shelly asked.
“Yes, he did. We had a very pleasant evening together.” Imelda’s lower lip began to tremble.
Shelly followed up. “Had he mentioned being worried about anything?”
“Not really. His work could be demanding. The home office was always wanting to implement some new thing. Wilson had to keep up with new regulations and laws. He had to keep the employees happy. There was always some customer fussing about something or other.”
Jay’s interest was piqued by Imelda’s statement. “Was Wilson dealing with a customer who may have been more disgruntled than usual?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t think so.”
“Did Wilson feel safe at work?” Jay asked.
Imelda’s eyebrows went up. “Well, we often hear about a gunman entering a public space and shooting people. A school, a concert, a restaurant, a financial institution. We talked about working with the public, about the potential for trouble, but it was just idle chatter. Neither of us felt any real danger at our jobs.”
“Did Wilson ever worry about a certain employee or a particular customer?”
“Not seriously, not as if a person might do something dangerous. Sometimes people were bothersome, but not so much that Wilson thought he might be in danger.”
“What about you?” Shelly asked. “Did you ever have difficulty with a customer or an acquaintance?”
Imelda shook her head. “Nothing that would lead to Wilson losing his life over.”
“We heard that Wilson’s father is in a nursing home?”
“That’s right. Over in Rollingwood. It took Wilson quite a while to find the right place. You know how some nursing homes aren’t the best. He wanted his father to be comfortable and well-taken care of.”
“How is the father doing?”
Imelda gave a little shrug. “He’s not great. He has dementia. Many times, he didn’t even recognize his son. That was hard on Wilson, even though he understood.”
“Has the father been told what happened to Wilson?” Jay questioned.
“No one told him,” Imelda said. “What’s the point? It might upset him initially, but then he wouldn’t remember what he’d been told. Why cause the man any heartache, even if it was brief? I’ll keep visiting him. He has no one else now that his son is gone.”
“What about friends? Did Wilson have some close friends?”
“He had two good friends. Mike Meeks is a lawyer over in Newell and Bill Handy teaches shop at the high school. They liked to get together to watch sports or a movie. They went out for dinner together, met up regularly to play cards. They were all musicians and liked to play together.”
“Were they in a band together?”
“Oh, no. They played just for fun.”
“Had they been friends for a long time?” Shelly asked.
“Decades. Wilson met Mike skiing on the mountain a long time ago and became friends with Bill when they played on a softball team together.”
“So Wilson skied,” Jay said. “Did he have any other hobbies?”
“He liked walking the trails. Wilson loved to be out in nature. He loved this town, loved being so close to the mountains.”
The more Shelly learned about Wilson Barrett, the more she liked him. She appreciated the man’s desire for a balanced life, his love of the outdoors, the kind way he seemed to treat the people in his life. Why would someone want him dead? Was it a random attack? If it was, how would the police ever gather enough clues to identify the perpetrator? Was someone going to get away with murder?
“Was there anyone who didn’t like Wilson?” Jay’s question pulled Shelly out of her thoughts.
Imelda stared at the police officer. “I don’t … think so.”
Jay rephrased what she’d asked. “Was there anyone who was angry with Wilson?”
Imelda swallowed. “Not that I know of.”
“Had Wilson been distracted lately?”
Shelly wondered if Jay’s sudden rapid fire questions were meant to rattle Imelda so she would slip up about something she might be trying to conceal.
“Work was busy for him. He had things on his mind, but I wouldn’t say he was distracted.” Imelda’s dog jumped into her lap and she hugged him.
“Had he been working later than usual?”
“Sometimes he did.”
“Lately?” Jay asked.
Imelda nodded. “The past couple of weeks.”
“Did Wilson always carry pepper spray with him?” Jay questioned.
“Pepper spray?” Imelda’s forehead scrunched up in confusion. “Wilson didn’t have any pepper spray.”
Shelly exchanged a quick look with Jay.
Jay said in gentle tone of voice, “Wilson had pepper spray in his pocket when he was found in the park.”
Imelda blinked at the two people in her living room. “He did? He never had any pepper spray. I never once saw him with any. Why would he have that?”
Jay again asked the questions she’d asked earlier in the interview. “Was Wilson worried about anything? Was he afraid of someone?”
Imelda’s eyes filled with tears.
Buddy stood up on her lap and gave the woman a soft lick on the wrist.
Imelda’s hand shook when she reached over to pat her dog. “I … I just don’t know.”
7
Shelly finished the last of the pies and set them on the counter to cool. Once or twice a week, she baked in the commercial kitchen of the Glad Hill Farm and Orchard to supplement the pies, cakes, and cookies made by their full-time baker. In the fall, Shelly upped her hours at the farm to meet the demand for fruit pies.
Glad Hill Farm was only a mile away from the edge of town and was popular with both tourists and townsfolk for its many attractions. A brewery, petting zoo, general store, and lake were at one end of the acreage while the orchard was located only about a quarter mile away. Pathways linked the different parts of the farm and visitors strolled from one end to the other. A huge corn maze drew massive crowds in the autumn.
The food barn was set up like a general store where products were sold from the farm, while the rest of the building served lunch, snacks, drinks, and ice cream. The interior had beautiful, rich wood walls, soaring ceilings, tables and chairs, and crystal chandeliers hanging from the rafters. Huge windows on one side brought in the sunlight and the barn doors on the opposite side could be opened to provide a gorgeous view of the landscape.
Shelly decided to look for the owner, Dwayne Thomas, so she stepped outside to follow the path over to the lake where the man often enjoyed sitting in the sun on a bench overlooking the water. Not long ago, a relative of Dwayne’s had been slowly poisoning the older man in a scheme to get rid of him in order to take over the farm. Shelly had discovered the evil plan in time to save Dwayne’s life and the two had become good friends.
When Shelly spotted him sitting on his usual bench, she waved and he gave her a wide smile as he scooted to the side to make room for her.
In his seventies, Dwayne had a thin, wiry build and a head of white hair. He’d spent his life doing manual labor at his farm and had the shoulder and arm muscles to show for it. He and Shelly shared another connection … Dwayne had lost his wife and son to an automobile accident over fifteen years ago and he and the young woman had talked together for hours about loss, grief, and carrying on with life even though part of your heart was missing.
“I was hoping to see you today,” Dwayne patted the seat bench for Shelly to sit. “If you didn’t come along in a few minutes, I was going to hunt you down in the kitchen.”
“I always look for you.” Shelly chuckled. “You know I wouldn’t leave without talking with you.”
“How did the baking go?”
“Very well. I had to get out of the kitchen though. The pies smelled so great, I would have eaten all of them if I didn’t leave.”
With a smile, Dwayne adjusted his baseball hat to better shade his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day. I love this time of year, everything green and lush, so much promise in the air.”
“Me, too. Winter can be fun and beautiful here, but it’s the warm weather I love the most,” Shelly agreed.
“What’s the news about Wilson Barrett? You talk to Jay about what’s going on?” Dwayne asked.
“A lot of dead ends. They’re knee-deep in the investigation.”
“Any motive?”
“Not yet,” Shelly sighed.
“Heck of a thing. Attacked while walking in the park. That park is almost like a town common so many people use it. It was near dark, of course, but it wasn’t late at night. It was kind of a reckless thing to do with people around. It’s not a remote or quiet location.”
“That’s what a lot of people think. The only thing is, the killer has gotten away with it. So far, at least.”
“Do you know where in the park the attack took place?” Dwayne asked.
Shelly shifted on the bench to face the man. “Juliet and I were out running the trails that morning. We’re the ones who found Mr. Barrett.”
Dwayne sucked in a breath of air and made a whooshing sound of disbelief. “You? And Juliet? You know, if folks didn’t know you two, they’d begin to get suspicious of you both. You’ve previously found two victims of a killer. Am I right?”
“Just one, before Mr. Barrett.”
“There was the young woman in the woods and there was Grant Norris in the barn at the resort.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You see what I mean?” Dwayne asked. “People might wonder why you and Juliet are always stumbling onto crime scenes.”
Shelly frowned. “People should be wondering why on earth there are so many crimes committed around here.”
Dwayne shrugged. “Even though we’re out in the woods, as far as crime goes, it’s more like a big city. Lots of people coming and going. Tourists around all year long, and lots of them put their guard down because they’re on vacation. On top of that, it’s easy for bad people to get lost in the crowd. Heavily populated or visited areas are magnets for a subset of criminals.”
“Huh,” Shelly grunted. “Maybe I should move back to Boston.”
“What do you think?” Dwayne asked. “Was it a random attack on Wilson?”
“I just don’t know. Nothing is pointing one way or another, but Jay and the other officers will figure it out.”
Dwayne nodded. “We’re lucky to have such a competent law enforcement department here in town.”
A gentle breeze kicked up off the lake and sent a whisper of cool air in Shelly and Dwayne’s direction. Looking over the lake and to the forest and mountains rising in the distance, Shelly knew she would never want to leave Paxton Park. Wilson Barrett’s girlfriend hinted at the man’s love for the town and talked about how he’d lived in the area most of his life. The thought caused Shelly’s heart to sink.
Who crossed paths with him? Why the urge to murder the man? Was the killer out for revenge or was the attacker in a murderous mindset and happened upon Barrett by chance?
“I knew him slightly,” Dwayne said taking Shelly out of her thoughts.
“Did you?”
“I did business at the bank he worked at.”
“I have an account there, too, but I only knew who Mr. Barrett was from seeing him in his office,” Shelly said. “I don’t think we ever interacted.”
“We did. He’d helped me with a few loans I took out to expand the farm with the brewery and the addition of the food barn. Wilson was a nice person. He played piano. Until recently, he played in that fancy restaurant at the resort several evenings a week. My sister dragged me there a few times. So expensive. It’s ridiculous to spend so much money on a meal.” Dwayne shook his head.
“A lot of people enjoy fine dining.” Shelly smiled. “I didn’t know Wilson played piano there. Why did he stop?”
“He told me it was taking up too much of his time. He’d done it for a long time.” Dwayne removed his hat, wiped at his brow, and replaced the cap. “Wilson taught an evening class in basic financial stuff like keeping a budget, renting or buying a home, how to build your savings, the basics of investing.”
“Where? At the college?”
“No, at the high school. Those adult enrichment courses. He didn’t think people knew enough about their finances and that could lead some folks into crushing debt. Working at the bank, Wilson saw a lot of people who were in financial trouble. He wanted to do what he could to help people avoid money problems.”
Shelly looked at Dwayne and asked, “Did Wilson ever mention trouble with anyone? Either at the restaurant when he was playing or maybe, at the bank, or in the course he was teaching?”
“I don’t recall him complaining about anyone in particular.”
Shelly’s eyes narrowed in thought. “It seems he came into contact with a lot of different people, at the bank, playing at the restaurant, teaching the course. I wonder if he crossed paths with the wrong person somewhere along the line?”
“And then that person killed him?” Dwayne looked alarmed. “For what reason?”
“Some people don’t need much of a reason,” Shelly said with a tone of resignation in her voice. She had seen a lot since coming to Paxton Park and was always baffled at the misery human beings could inflict on one another. “Some people misinterpret things and blow them out of proportion. They take an unintended slight and turn it into something big and react with fury to it. There are plenty of people who can’t control their emotions, who are full of anger, who have the need to strike out at others.”
“I know that all too well.” Dwayne huffed in disgust thinking about his own relative who attempted to kill him. “There are some who are incredibly greedy and selfish and who only consider their own needs and wants … and they don’t care who they hurt to get it. Those people are lacking in empathy … or some other basic human characteristic. Unfortunately, Wilson must have run into one of them.”
Shelly gave a nod. “I guess I should head home. Can I walk with you back to the barn?”
Dwayne pushed himself off the bench. “If I give these bones of mine a rest, then they protest when I try to get them moving again.”
Shelly chuckled. “Actually, I don’t blame them.”
Dwayne slipped his arm through Shelly’s as they walked along the path back to the food barn. “Don’t you and Juliet get mixed up in this mess. Steer clear of it. Leave the police to do their thing. Don’t get anywhere near it. You hear me?”
“I do.” Shelly patted the man’s arm.
But unfortunately, it’s too late to back away.
8
When Shelly and Juliet arrived for the evening community meeting organized by the Paxton Park Police department, the high school auditorium was packed with people. Television crews and reporters clustered at the sides of the stage.
Finding a seat in the back row, they settled in, eager to hear what the community leaders had to say about the murder investigation.
“I didn’t expect so many people to attend.” Juliet glanced around the room which was already becoming sticky and warm.
“There’s a lot of concern in town,” Shelly said. “The park is a popular gathering spot. People have always felt safe there. Now they feel that the place has been violated and they want answers.”
A group of men and woman came onto the stage from the right side.
“There’s Jay,” Shelly said.
“And Andrew.” Juliet smiled at her boyfriend even though he didn’t see her way back in the auditorium.
The mayor, the assistant district attorney, several other officers, and the police chief filed across the stage and most of them took seats in the gray, metal chairs set in a row.
When Mayor Clay Daniels stepped up to the podium, a flurry of flashes went off as reporters took pictures. In his sixties, trim, and tall, the mayor could be abrasive and smug, and many in the community didn’t care for him and were eager for someone to oust the man. “Thank you all for coming. We called the meeting to update everyone on the investigation into Wilson Barrett’s death.” The man droned on for several minutes about what law enforcement had done so far, what had been learned, and what was planned as they moved forward. He then introduced the police chief.
Chief Thomas Lancaster was in his late sixties, thick in the shoulders, stocky, and trim in the waist. He still had a full head of brown hair and many speculated he dyed it to retain his youthful appearance. The chief ran through the timeline of the attack on Mr. Barrett. When he discussed how the man was found in the park, he only mentioned two citizens discovered the body, careful not to reveal Shelly’s or Juliet’s name.
