Dead Catch, page 13
“Your secret is safe with us, Sally. Now, we are in the black and gold Bounder up in site twenty-seven. If you happen to remember anything that could help us in our investigation, please stop in.”
“I’ll surely do that, Mrs. Moran,” Sally replied.
Just then Ranger Murray came out onto the porch waiving a folded piece of paper in his hand, “Here’s that name and address you wanted, Mrs. Moran.”
“Oh, thank you, Ranger Murray, I do appreciate it,” Helen replied.
“No problem at all, and if you need anything else just ask,” Murray replied.
As Hank stepped off the porch of the station he happened to notice Ranger Murray’s trail bike parked along the side wall and recalled how Chip had admired it in October. Hank had completely forgotten about it until now.
“Ranger Murray, do you mind if I check out your trail bike? My grandson admired it when he was here in October. He’s getting to the age when he’ll be begging for one.”
“Sure, you’re welcome to look at it, but it needs a new chain right now so you can’t take it out for a ride,” Murray replied.
Hank replied, “That’s OK, I just want to get a feel for how heavy it is to see if he could handle one like it.”
Hank sat on the bike, tilted it to one side and the other, and then lifted the front end up while gripping the handle bars. “Might be a little too heavy for him,” Hank said. “I’m going to take a picture of it anyways for future reference.”
Hank pulled out his cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the bike, making sure to include clear shots of the front and rear tire treads.
Hank waved his cell phone signaling thanks to Ranger Murray as he and Helen started the short walk back to the Bounder. Once inside, Helen quickly compared Ranger Murray’s sheet containing Wilcox’s address to the note that was left on their windshield. “No match,” Helen said. “The fonts are different and also the paper looks like a different shade of white. The paper used by Ranger Murray looks darker, like it may be made of recycled paper.”
“That makes sense with Murray being a gung ho environmentalist,” Hank replied as he started to compare the shots he had taken of Murray’s trail bike treads to the picture of the bike tracks emailed by Detective Meyers.
“Any match on the tire treads?” Helen asked.
“Looks like no match on the treads either. Murray’s treads are knobby, strictly for trail, and the tracks sent by Craig Meyers look like treads that are used for street or trail.”
“I guess that leaves Ranger Murray off the hook. Let’s have lunch before we track down Jed Wilcox. I can make some ham and cheese sandwiches with some slices of that jalapeño pepper we bought.”
“Mmm, sounds good to me,” Hank replied. “I’d like to have a beer with it, too, but it feels like I’m still on the force and on duty.”
“C’mon, Hank, I am sure there is nothing in the P.I. handbook that says you can’t enjoy one beer for lunch.”
“You know, you’re right! A beer it is!
Chapter 12
Jed Wilcox lived less than five miles south of the park on Point Pleasant Road just west of Route 518. His double wide sat fifty yards back off the road and a well maintained gravel drive led up to it. It appeared to Helen that Mr. Wilcox took pride in his house and land as the grass was newly mown and the few shrubs were neatly trimmed. A black and white cat greeted the Morans on the front deck as they knocked on the door. The cat purred as Helen stroked its neck and back. “I hope Mr. Wilcox is as friendly as the cat,” Helen remarked as the front door was opened by a short, thin, dark haired man in his late forties.
Before Hank had a chance to say hello, the man asked, “Are you the folks from Hammond Realty?”
“No, we aren’t,” Hank replied. “Are you Jed Wilcox?
“Might be, who are y’all?”
“We are private investigators from the Moran Agency. I am Hank Moran and this is my wife, Helen. We would like a few minutes of your time to ask you about your meeting with Mr. Leonard Driscoll up at Lake Claiborne this past October twentieth ... assuming you are Mr. Wilcox, that is.”
The man thought a moment, stepped out onto the deck, and then said, “I’m Jed Wilcox. Is this the same Leonard fella that had the boat for sale?”
“Yes, it is,” Hank replied. “Are you aware that Leonard Driscoll went missing that evening and his body was found in the lake three days later?”
“Huh, I heard somethin on the news about a body found in the lake. Ya sure he was the same guy that had the boat for sale?”
“Yes, he was, Mr. Wilcox. Tell me about your meeting with Mr. Driscoll.”
“Ain’t much to tell. We went for a short ride out into the lake, haggled about the price some, and then came back in.”
“Was it a friendly discussion about the price?”
“I would say it was right friendly. He said he wanted nine grand and I offered him seven. Then he said that another guy was coming that same day to look at it and that he might consider my offer if the other guy wasn’t interested. I assumed the other guy bought it cause I never got a call back.”
“What time was it when you and Mr. Driscoll returned to the dock?
“I really can’t say. We were to meet around three-thirty. We weren’t out more than a half hour, so I’d guess it was around four or a little after.”
“What happened then, Mr. Wilcox?”
“Nuthin happened. I gave him my phone number and left.”
“Did you see anyone else arrive as you were leaving?”
“No, not down by the boat launch.”
“Are you saying you saw someone else in the park?”
“Well, I passed a guy on a motorbike that was just turning onto the park road.”
“Did you recognize that person?”
“He looked kinda familiar. A lot like Deputy Mansfield, but without the uniform so I really couldn’t say it was him.”
“Do you recall which direction he was coming from when he turned into the park road?”
“Now let me think.” Wilcox made gestures with his hands in an effort to remember the direction. “Well I was goin out this way, and I am sure he was comin around from the right, so I’d say he was comin from the Homer direction.”
“You said the rider looked a lot like Deputy Mansfield. How familiar are you with him?”
“I guess you could say a little too familiar. He wrote me up on a speeding ticket bout a month ago. I was only doin fifty-five in a forty-five zone. Cost me a hundred twenty bucks.”
“OK, Mr. Wilcox, you have been a great help. I want you to have one of my cards just in case you recall something that would help in our investigation.”
Hank handed Wilcox his card just as another car pulled into the driveway with a Hammond Real Estate logo on the door.
“Here’s them realty fellas now,” Driscoll said. “Gonna put the house up for sale.”
“You have a nice place here, Mr. Driscoll. Why do you want to move?” Helen asked.
“I finally got me a weldin job over near Shreveport and it’s too far to drive every day.”
Helen replied, “Well, good luck on your new job. You should have no problem selling your house. It looks like you take good care of it. Have a nice day, Mr. Wilcox.”
“Likewise, folks.”
Hank nodded to the pair of realtors as he and Helen returned to the Honda. Once inside the car Helen said, “Well, I have the feeling that Wilcox was telling the truth.”
“You’re right,” Hank said as he was backing out of the driveway. “I agree with you that Wilcox was being truthful. Besides, I couldn’t think of a possible motive he would have for killing Driscoll. We know that it wasn’t to steal the boat.”
“It looks like Deputy Mansfield is right at the top of the suspect list if it actually was him that Wilcox passed turning onto the park road,” Helen said.
“You’re right again,” Hank said. “Now all we have to do is prove he did it.”
“I think we should have another talk with Ranger Rheims when we get back to the park,” Helen said. “When you were questioning her before, I just got the feeling that she was holding something back.”
“You may be right, pardner. I’m not about to doubt a woman’s intuition. Especially the one sitting beside me,” Hank replied with a smile and patted Helen on the leg.
“Keep that up, big boy, and we’ll head right to the Bounder and forget about Ranger Rheims.”
“Did I tell you how good you look in those jeans?” Hank replied.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, big boy.”
Putting business before pleasure, Hank parked the Honda in the space beside the Bounder and he and Helen walked down to the ranger station to find Ranger Rheims. Rheims was busy checking in a camper when they walked in the door. Hank assumed that Ranger Murray was on his dinner break as he was nowhere in sight.
Helen noticed Ranger Rheims glance their way a few times as she was checking in the camper. Five minutes later the camper left with his site assignment and the brochure of the rules of the park.
Rheims turned to Hank and Helen and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Moran, how can I help you?”
Hank replied, “Ranger Rheims, we need to talk with you further about the day that Leonard Driscoll disappeared.”
“I think I already told you everything I can remember,” Rheims replied.
Noticing Ranger Rheims’ unease, Helen said, “Sally, we only have a few additional questions. We won’t take much of your time. And it is very important.”
“OK, what do you want to ask?”
“While you were on duty that afternoon when Ranger Murray was on his dinner break, did you happen to hear or see anyone riding a motorized trail bike?” Helen asked.
“No, I don’t recall hearing a trail bike on that specific day,” Sally replied. “It is not uncommon to hear them though, so I could have.”
Helen continued, “Did you see Deputy Sheriff Mansfield at all that day?”
Hank and Helen both noticed Sally’s look of unease when questioned about Deputy Mansfield. Sally nervously replied, “I don’t recall seeing Richard that day.”
“Sally, you just called Deputy Mansfield ‘Richard,’” Helen said. “It sounds like you are on a first name basis with him.”
“Yes, he drops in a few times a week and we have become friends.”
“Are his visits part of his routine patrol?”
“Yes, they are. If we aren’t busy he stays to chat awhile with Phil and me.”
“I see. Did he ever talk about Sheriff Pettibone’s daughter, Lucy?”
“Oh, yes, he talked about her a lot. He has been trying to date her ever since her husband was killed. Phil used to tease him about it, telling him it wasn’t a good idea since she was his boss’ daughter.”
“How did he take the teasing?”
“He got upset one time and told Phil that it was none of his business if he wanted to date Lucy. Richard had a real mean look in his face and Phil hasn’t said anything about it since.”
“Did Richard ever ask you out?”
“No, I think it was because he seemed to always have Lucy on his mind. I wouldn’t have gone out with him anyways.”
“Why not?” Helen asked.
“Well, he just came across as the domineering type. I really enjoy my independence and I just think that Richard would try to control me, or any woman for that matter.”
“I see. Lucy Chatham had just about the same thing to say about him,” Helen replied.
“Well, there you go,” Sally said.
“Did Deputy Mansfield stop in at the station this morning?” Helen asked.
“Yes, he did. In fact, he asked if you and Mr. Moran were still in the park. I told him you were and gave him your site number,” Sally replied.
“About what time did Deputy Mansfield stop by?”
“I think it was around nine-thirty,” Sally replied.
“Did he say why he wanted to know if we were still in the park?”
“No, he didn’t. I just assumed it had something to do with your investigation.”
“Did you notice in which direction Deputy Mansfield headed when he left the station,” Helen further inquired.
Sally answered, “He drove in the direction of the campground.”
“Sally, like I mentioned earlier, if you remember anything that would help us in our investigation we are up in site twenty-seven in the gold and black Bounder.”
“Yes, I know, Mrs. Moran. If I remember anything I’ll let you know.”
Hank had stood back and admired how Helen had a knack for putting people, especially other females, at ease. She wound up chatting with them and in the process extracted pertinent information. As they were walking back up to their site, Hank remarked, “Well, we now know that Deputy Mansfield is extremely infatuated with Lucy Chatham. Little pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place.”
“We also know that Mansfield was in the park this morning about the time that someone left the note on our car,” Helen added. “And we can also narrow down the timeline of the murder. If we believe that Jed Wilcox was telling the truth, Driscoll was alive at 4:15 when he dropped him off back at the dock.”
“And don’t forget Driscoll was still alive at 5:00 when he called Peter about the furniture delivery,” Hank said.
“And when Ranger Murray came back on duty at six there were no boats or trailers in the parking lot,” Helen added. “So that means he was murdered between five and six.”
“We can narrow it down even further than that,” Hank said. “It would take someone at least twenty minutes to motor back to the dock, re-trailer the boat, and leave the park. So we’re talking about a time of death of between five and five-forty.”
“That also means that the murderer had to park Driscoll’s truck and trailer with the boat on it somewhere else before dropping it off at Driscoll’s house at three a.m.,” Helen said.
“Assuming we are focusing on the correct guy, we have to find out where Deputy Mansfield lives and check out his place. If he has no place to conceal the rig at his house maybe somebody saw it,” Hank said.
“We sure could use another neighborhood snoop like Millie Hardwick,” Helen joked.
As they were nearing the Bounder, they turned as they heard Sally call their names and run up to them. Speaking half out of breath she said, “I just remembered something else about that day!”
“What is it, Sally?” Helen asked.
Catching her breath, Sally replied, “After you asked me about hearing a motor bike I remembered hearing something else. I recall hearing a man and a woman arguing down near the boat dock and then the sound of a boat heading out into the lake.”
“Do you remember what time that was, Sally?” Hank asked.
“I’m sure it was about a quarter to five. I remember looking up at the wall clock and thinking that I had over an hour to study before Phil came back from his dinner break.”
Hank and Helen thanked Sally for the additional information and told her she had been a great help.
After Sally left they continued their walk up to the Bounder. Helen said, “I think it is safe to assume that it was Leonard who was arguing with the woman. No one else had a boat near the dock that afternoon.”
“Assuming that Lucy was telling the truth about what time she left Leonard at the lake, it couldn’t have been her arguing with him,” Hank said.
“I am sure that our mystery woman won’t turn out to be so mysterious in the end,” Helen said.
“You have someone in mind?” Hank asked.
“Yes, I do, and it is most likely the same one that you have in mind,” Helen answered.
Chapter 13
Four months prior
Deputy Sheriff Richard Mansfield was in his patrol car cruising North Main Street in Homer, Louisiana when he spotted Lucy Chatham’s dark blue mustang pull into the parking lot of the Claiborne Chamber of Commerce. He tapped his siren button making two short blips, followed her into the lot, and parked his cruiser alongside her mustang. They exited their vehicles at the same time and Lucy asked coyly, “I’m sorry, Officer, did I do something wrong?”
“That depends on how you answer my questions, ma’am,” Mansfield replied.
“And what is the nature of the interrogation this time, Officer?”
“The City of Shreveport has a very nice movie theater just waiting for the two of us to enter and enjoy the movie of your choice tomorrow night. Of course, this event would be preceded by a dinner at a fine restaurant. You are being requested to accompany this officer on the aforementioned evening.”
Lucy was perplexed. Deputy Mansfield had asked her out on numerous occasions during the past year only to have to make up an excuse to turn down his request. This time she had a legitimate reason. “I’m sorry, Richard, I can’t go out with you. I am seeing someone else tomorrow night.”
Mansfield was momentarily stunned. He was sure Lucy’s past rejections were based solely on the reason that she was still grieving the loss of her husband and was not yet ready to start dating. He had been patient and certain that she would eventually change her mind. Now she had just said she was seeing someone else. “Anyone I know?” Mansfield questioned in a less than happy manner.
“I don’t think so,” Lucy replied. “He is from Shreveport.”
“What is his name? Maybe I do know him,” Mansfield persisted.
“I really don’t think you would know him. You’ll have to excuse me now, Richard. I am already late for a business meeting,” Lucy replied as she turned and walked into the Chamber of Commerce building.
Deputy Mansfield rapidly built himself into an angry state as he returned to his cruiser. He was seething and his cruiser squealed rubber as he exited the parking lot. The receptionist inside the Chamber had casually watched Lucy’s conversation with the deputy through the plate glass front of the building. When Lucy approached her desk the receptionist asked, “What did you say to our gallant deputy sheriff, Lucy? He sure seemed to leave in a tizzy.”
