Fixin' To Die (A Kenni Lowry Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

“Can you please give the appointment book to Officer Vincent?” I asked. At this point I was going to have to work with what I was given, and right now that didn’t seem like much.

“What was the cleaning process around here?” If Doc was so particular about shoes, he had to be even more particular about the rest of the instruments.

“He was OCD about the place.” She ripped another piece of toilet paper off the roll and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Every time a patient left, I had to wipe down everything with Clorox.”

“Every day? Every night?” I asked.

Toots nodded.

“You can go now, but I want you to stop by the station this afternoon to give a formal statement to Wyatt.” With a little time between now and then, I hoped she’d remember some key information she’d forgotten in her state of shock.

My eyes slid over to Wyatt. “I’m going to see if we can get an emergency town council meeting so we can get you on as deputy until the fall election.”

He nodded and tugged on the edges of his waistband. I was sure this made him happy, since I heard through the rumor mill that he was the one who wanted to run against me. After all, he was familiar with the job since the jailer’s office and sheriff’s office were all in one room in the back of Cowboy’s Catfish Restaurant.

When a new sheriff was elected, they normally brought in their own people. Not me. I kept the deputy who was here under my Poppa when he was sheriff of Cottonwood. If Leonard was good enough for Poppa, he was certainly good enough for me. Plus, Leonard had been interim sheriff between Poppa’s death and the election and he had no intentions of running. He wanted to finish out his two years and retire. I didn’t blame him.

No sense in taking time to train someone new. I lived by the motto, “If it’s not broke, don’t try to fix it.” Now that I needed a deputy, I was more than happy to appoint Wyatt to the job.

“I’ve got all the files.” Finn held up a stack of yellow files.

I glanced around the room through hazy sadness. Wyatt, Toots, and even Finn had a deep-set pain on their faces.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day.” I tapped the top of the files in Finn’s hands. “Wyatt, cancel whatever plans you had today because I’m going to need you to head down to the station.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Take Sterling with you so you can get his statement.”

Everyone scattered. I stood with my hands on my hips and glared down the hallway, trying to come up with an idea of why someone would want to kill Doc Walton.

A chill swooshed down the hall and up my uniform pant leg. I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I wished my Poppa were here. He’d know exactly what to do next.

“Now what?” I closed my eyes and whispered, trying to channel my Poppa. “Help me, Poppa.”

“You know,” Finn’s voice filled the space around me, an edge to it, “if you sit and listen long enough, the walls have ears. All the answers are right here. We just have to peel back the layers one at a time.”

As goofy as Finn Vincent sounded, I had an eerie feeling he was right.

Chapter Three

It’s one thing to learn about a murder crime scene in the police academy but a totally different experience to be thrown in the middle of one. Toots had left and Wyatt had taken Sterling in his car down to the station, leaving Finn and me alone with Doc Walton. Duke had found a spot on the corner of one of Doc’s couches in the reception room—the only area we had cleared.

“Max Bogus, our county coroner and owner of our only funeral home, should be here any minute,” I said to Finn and finished up writing down a few notes. “He’ll do an initial assessment and then take Doc on down to the funeral home morgue.”

“Any clues on who might have done this?” Finn asked.

“No idea.” It was still a little shocking to me. “There hasn’t been a murder here since I took office two years ago.”

In the state of Kentucky, a sheriff serves a four-year term with no term limit, and I would have to say I was pretty lucky not having a murder on my watch. That lucky streak was over.

“Sheriff?” the voice of Max Bogus called from the front of the house.

“Come on in,” I yelled back.

Max walked in with his brown briefcase close to his side. He wore khaki pants, a blue button-down, and thick black-rimmed glasses.

“Max, this is Finn Vincent from the Reserve Unit.” I gestured between the two. “Finn, this is Max.”

They gave each other a handshake and nod.

“This is a first.” Max’s eyes dipped, his lips pursed as he bent down over Doc’s body.

“I still can’t believe it. There isn’t a murder weapon, which I’m assuming is a knife of some sort from all of the stab wounds,” I pointed out.

“We shall see.” Max held a clipboard and camera bag in his hands. “I’ve got to fill out the initial paperwork and you know I’ll need to see any witness statements or even talk to who found him.”

“Yes, of course.” I nodded. “Sterling found him before Toots got here for work. You and Doc were friends; did you know he would see patients without appointments?” I asked, fearing this was going to be my biggest obstacle in the case.

“He was an old-time doctor. If someone needed to be seen, he wasn’t going to turn anyone away. Not so uncommon in small towns such as Cottonwood.” Max filled out the usual information on the sheet on his clipboard. Name, occupation, address of death, hair color, and clothing.

There was an outline of a dead body and he quickly made notes on the visible stab wounds. Finn and I watched as Max pulled out his camera and took pictures of Doc and all the evidence markers.

“All the puzzle pieces will fit together somehow,” Max said, squatting down to get closer pictures of the mercury granules.

It was exactly what Finn had meant when he said the walls had eyes.

An hour went by before Max was ready to put Doc Walton’s body on the church cart and put him in the back of the hearse. He’d taken all sorts of photos of every room in the house.

“You never know what you can find in a photo with a magnifying glass.” Max’s brows rose.

“Formal statements will be ready tonight. I’ll get them to you when Wyatt has them typed up.” A sobering feeling hit my gut as the back door of the hearse slammed shut.

“Sounds good.” Max’s lips pressed in a thin line. “We’ll find who did this.”

“I sure hope so.”

I waved him off and watched him drive down the now muddy driveway.

The sun was starting to peek out. Cottonwood could use a little sunshine and much-needed relief from the rain, because the beginning of this week was turning out to be far from fun.

“I guess we can get these divided up. You take some and I’ll take some.” Finn walked outside with the stack of patient files.

“What do you say we grab a bite to eat?” I felt a little lightheaded and hoped it was from not eating breakfast this morning.

Finn nodded. “I could use some food.”

“You can follow me to town. I know just the right place.” I made sure the house was securely locked up and the police caution tape in place before I got back in the Wagoneer. “Duke! Come!”

Duke sauntered down the steps. His droopy brown eyes slid down his face, disappearing into his floppy cheeks.

I ran my hand over his light brown furry head and down his long tan ears.

“You are such a good boy.” A long-needed sigh escaped my lips. Duke always made me happy. “Poppa knew what he was doing when he gave you to me.”

Duke shook his flappy ears and let out a little howl as though he knew what I was saying. We got in and I put the Wagoneer in drive, watching Finn in my rearview mirror.

“Charger.” I adjusted the mirror, taking a look at Finn’s fancy police car. “Oh well.” I rubbed the dash of my old Jeep. “We don’t need a fancy car.”

Duke let out another howl before he stuck his head out the window and let his ears fly in the wind.

Within a few minutes, I pulled up to the curb in front of Lulu’s Boutique on the north side of town. The small boutique was really an old clapboard house turned into a cute shop owned and operated by Lulu McClain. She had local items along with knick-knacks, candles, some clothing, and other accessories for the home.

I put the Jeep in park, leaving enough room for Finn to park behind me.

Duke howled in delight when he saw the On The Run food truck. He was about to get a treat and he knew it.

On The Run, Jolee Fischer’s mobile café, was parked on the side of Lulu’s.

“Kenni!” Lulu trotted down the front steps of her shop looking very stylish for her age. She wore her black hair in a short, shaved Twiggy kind of way, a little longer on the top, enough to be parted on the side. Her black ruffled blouse was partially covered with a white and black speckled fur vest with leggings and knee-high black boots. Silver bangles jingled up and down her arm as she waved in the air, screaming my name. “Kenni!” There was something in her hand.

“Good morning, Ms. Lulu.” I swung the Jeep door open and Duke jumped over me and out the door, bolting up to the food truck.

“Good morning.” She put a little extra oomph on the “ing” in morning as her eyes rolled up and down Finn, who was next to my door before I could turn the Jeep off. “Well, it’s technically early afternoon.” She grinned, not taking her eyes off Finn.

“Good afternoon.” Finn smiled, pulling the sunglasses off his face and hooking them in the pocket of his fancy suit coat. He ignored Lulu’s lustful stares.

“Well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Ms. Lulu pushed between us, tucked whatever it was in her hand in her back pocket, and stuck her manicured hand out in front of her. The bracelets jingled down her arm and came to a rest on her wrist. “I’m Lulu McClain. I own Lulu’s Boutique. You must be the fancy cop from out of town that everyone is talking about.”

“I don’t know about fancy.” Finn’s voice faded, losing that steely edge. “Yes, ma’am. Finn Vincent from out of town.” A flash of humor crossed his face. “News travels fast.”

“Faster than you know.” I rolled my eyes.

“I can’t help it if I called Betty Murphy to get the recipe for her chess bars. Missy Jennings is sick and I know chess bars will be just the thing to pep her up.” Lulu patted her free hand over the top of Finn’s hand, still shaking it like she was shaking out the water on her dishrag.

“Chess bars, huh?” Finn’s mouth turned up in a big ole smile, exposing those perfect teeth.

“I’ll make an extra batch.” Lulu winked, still rubbing the top of his hand. “Betty told me about Doc Walton. Shame.” Her brows cocked up. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head.

“Thank you for making me some chess bars. They sound delicious.” Finn’s mouth was still open in a bright smile.

“Were you yelling for me?” I asked, reminding her of her frantically yelling my name when I pulled up.

Lulu cleared her throat, turning her attention to me.

“Yes, Kenni.” Her face was turned toward mine, but her eyes were glued on Finn.

“Focus, Ms. Lulu.”

I waved my hand in front of her.

“Oh, Kenni.” She sighed, pulled the stashed item from her back pocket, and held out the thing toward me. “I know your mother would love this monogrammed scarf. It’s a perfect color for her.” She held it up to my face. “I mean, it looks good up to your olive skin tone and you are a mini-me of her. Plus, she does love a monogram.”

I smiled a dreary smile, knowing exactly what Lulu was up to. My rocky relationship with my parents wasn’t a big secret in our town—and I was sure it was a topic the circle of coffee talk shared—but Ms. Lulu was on a mission for me to reestablish the bond with my parents that came completely unglued when I decided to go to the police academy. After I graduated from the academy, I worked on the University campus police force, which I guess my mama thought was playing pretend.

When Poppa died, it was election year, so I threw my hat in and won. My mama absolutely threw a hissy fit when she found out I was running. I didn’t even want to remember how she acted when I actually won. I thought I was going to have to take her to the nearest hospital, a forty-five-minute drive east into Lexington.

“And she about died when I called her about Doc Walton—um,” Lulu’s eyes flew open, “I mean, when I let it slip about Doc Walton while I was telling her about Missy Jennings. Because I know she’d get a burr in her saddle if she found out some other way since she and Missy are Euchre partners.”

“You let it slip, huh?” I asked in a monotone voice, knowing it was exactly why she called my mama: to stir the pot.

Lulu was definitely a good pot-stirrer.

“Why, yes.” Lulu’s southern drawl drew out even more, my keen judge of character telling me she was lying right there to my face. She leaned in and nudged me with her elbow, the smell of vanilla oozing from her every pore.

“Is there a serial killer among us?” she asked. “I won’t tell.”

“Serial killer?” Finn’s smile faded. His crow’s-feet deepened.

“No.” I shook my head. “There is no serial killer. One killer.” My face reddened. “One crime. Only one.” I held my finger in the air.

“Mark my words.” She stomped her fancy boot on the ground. “I told the city council one year ago not to build those condos out there by the river. I told them building those would bring all sorts of seedy people to our little town. But no.” She swayed back and forth, her finger wagging in the air. She looked like she was in Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” video. Not that I was a Beyoncé fan. Not that I wasn’t. “No one wanted to listen to me. And now this happens.”

“Thank you for voicing your concerns. I’ll be sure to put it in my notes.” I had to be sure every citizen was heard. Part of the job. “I’m sure you’ll see Mama before me.” I tilted my head. “We have to go.”

“Right. Crime to solve.” Her solemn face took a turn on a dime and her sweet southern smile was right back. She turned to Finn. “Do you know who did it?”

“I’m holding you to those chess bars.” He winked. She giggled. My stomach growled.

It was my cue to leave and get in line for food. Finn could fend for himself; I left him to say goodbye to Lulu. A few minutes later he walked up next to me.

“That was wrong. All sorts of wrong,” I said.

“What?” he asked in a dumbfounded voice.

“You know what. Flirting with an old lady,” I growled, though I secretly found it a little endearing.

“It made her drop the questioning.” He held the file up in the air, following closely behind me. “Here are the files. We can go over them at the table.”

I picked up the pace. The line for On The Run was getting longer and the day was slipping away. There was a lot more I needed to get done before the sun went down.

“Nice dog.” Finn laughed at Duke.

My ornery pup had made his way to the front of the line and was quickly eating up any food that accidentally fell out of the cardboard cartons Jolee used to serve it.

“Everyone knows Duke,” I said.

He nodded. “Getting back to town was easier than I anticipated.” Finn looked up and down Main Street. He was trying to make small talk to fill the space. “And the rain has stopped for now.”

“Huh?” I asked. There were only a few streets between Doc Walton’s house in the country and the town. It wasn’t like Cottonwood was a big city or anything.

“When I was trying to find the crime scene, I stopped and asked someone for directions.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his suit pocket. He flashed it toward me. There was some scribble on it.

“Oh no.” I closed my eyes in anticipation. The way we southerners gave directions was nowhere near the fancy GPS most people used.

“I repeat, the exact directions.” He held the piece of paper up to his face. He said in his best hillbilly accent, “That’s way out yonder. This is what you are gonna do.” He looked up at me and continued, “You are gonna drive straight down this road until you get to the outhouse on the cement blocks where there isn’t a stitch of grass. Anyways, you are gonna turn right right there. Well, it’s really a curve, but go slow because Grant Henry took that curve and ended up knocking that outhouse down. That’s why it’s on cement blocks now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Finn Vincent was getting a good dose of how the local folks gave directions. We understood yonder and down there.

“Oh, it doesn’t stop there.” He held the piece of paper up to his face again. “Now you are gonna keep going, keep going down a real long piece, but slow down because that girl sheriff we got will give you a ticket. Eventually there is gonna be a fork in the road, you gonna go left. Now there is a cross in the middle of the road where that fork is because someone died there, but stay left of that cross. That’s the street you want because Doc Walton’s house is on that street.”