Lethal Lawman Page 12

  “Why would a young man kidnap a sixty-five-year-old woman and keep her somewhere?” Steve asked.

  “Why do adults abuse kids? Why do kids kill their parents? Why do some men beat or murder their wives?” Jimmy drove his hand through his thick dark hair, his dark brown eyes radiating disgust. “We all know that some human beings are capable of terrible things. We all know that mental illness, madness or just plain evil exists and when it comes to the human mind, anything is possible.”

  He grabbed his coffee mug from the corner of Frank’s desk and flashed a quick grin. “Sorry for the tirade.”

  “That’s what we love about you, Jimmy. Your passion for all things evil,” Steve said with a laugh.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put a tail on Michael,” Frank said thoughtfully. “I’ve got him picking up trash on Main for a couple of hours each day and I know he spends a lot of time at night at the Wolf’s Head Tavern, but there are many hours in the day when I have no idea how he spends his time.”

  “Putting a tail on him is going to be a little tricky. He knows most of the cops on the force,” Steve said.

  Frank glanced around the squad room, his gaze lingering on Officer Chelsea Loren. “I wonder how recognizable Chelsea would be in a black wig?”

  The other two men turned to stare at her. As if she felt their attention, she looked up from where she’d been typing at her computer. “What? You all have never seen me type before?”

  “It might work,” Steve said.

  “What might work?” Chelsea got up and left her desk and sauntered over to the three men.

  As Frank told her his idea of her working in disguise and tailing Michael, Chelsea’s eyes lit up with anticipation and Frank knew she was in for whatever they needed her to do.

  It was just after ten when Frank got a call from his Pittsburgh contact and found out that the Honorable Matt McGraw was on vacation and out of the country and couldn’t be reached.

  He hung up and gazed at his partners in frustration. “I was hoping to take him off our list of potential suspects, but it’s damned coincidental that he’s ‘out of the country’ on vacation when an attack occurs on his ex-wife.”

  “While you two are out at the settlement this afternoon, I’ll see what I can find out about this vacation of his,” Steve said. “Maybe somebody on his staff can be a little more specific about where he’s gone. Even though it’s not a workday, I can hopefully get in touch with somebody who can give us more information.”

  * * *

  It was just before two when Frank stepped outside into the sunshine and called Marlene. She answered on the first ring.

  “Have you already solved the case and have the bad guy behind bars?”

  He laughed. “What do you think I am? Some kind of superhero?”

  “I’m definitely expecting you to be a superhero in this case,” she replied.

  Although she said the words lightly, a weight clunked in Frank’s heart. “I’m no hero, Marlene,” he said seriously. “I’m just a cop trying to solve a case.”

  “That works, too,” she replied, the lightness in her tone gone. Maybe he’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended.

  “I just wanted to check in and see that things were okay there.”

  “Everything is quiet. I’ve been holed up in the bedroom for most of the day, although I did sneak out earlier to grab a bagel for breakfast.”

  “Jimmy and I are headed to the settlement this afternoon to check out things there, and I found out that your ex-husband is on a vacation somewhere.”

  “In the two years I was married to Matt, he never took a vacation,” she replied, a new tension in her tone.

  “Steve is going to try to confirm his whereabouts this afternoon,” he replied. “And I think maybe it might be a good idea if I don’t come to your aunt’s place for a couple of days. The last thing I’d want to do was inadvertently lead somebody right to your doorstep. I think we should give things a couple of days to cool off.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” she agreed.

  “Okay, then, I’ll give you a call later this evening and catch you up with what we find out during this afternoon.” As he hung up, he wondered when he’d made the decision that he wasn’t going to go by to see her that night.

  He thought maybe he’d made it when she’d told him she needed him to be her superhero. He wanted to solve her problems, he wanted to take her to bed, but he definitely didn’t want to be a hero figure for any woman.

  Grace had always called him her hero, but ultimately he hadn’t done his job well enough to keep her from taking her own life. Her death had been a tragedy and somehow he knew he’d played a role in it, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done, or what he hadn’t done, that had created such a traumatic consequence.

  “Ready?” Jimmy stepped outside the building and joined Frank on the sidewalk.

  “Ready.” Frank dropped his phone into his pocket and together the men walked to his car.

  “I feel like we’ve had a productive morning,” Jimmy said once they were headed down Main Street and to the Amish settlement that was about ten miles outside of town.

  “Chelsea looked kind of hot in that black wig,” Frank replied. “I don’t think her own mother would recognize her.”

  Jimmy grinned. “Chelsea would look hot in anything if she’d just stop trying so hard.”

  Frank thought of the pretty blonde officer who wore too much makeup, got lip injections that made her lips appear too big for her face and seemed desperate for a man to clutch on to. “I feel good about the plan for her to tail Michael whenever he gets into his car to go anywhere. Maybe we can, at the very least, eliminate him from the list of potential suspects.”

  “And hopefully by the time we get back to the station Steve will have some definitive answers about the whereabouts of Marlene’s ex-husband.”

  “I’d feel much better knowing he isn’t a player in any of this,” Frank replied.

  The two fell silent as Frank hit the highway. It was another gorgeous May day. The sun was warm and bright and the roadside was dotted with lush spring grass and wildflowers.

  “How’s Marlene holding up?” Jimmy finally broke the silence.

  “Surprisingly well.” Frank turned down the lane that would take them to Bishop Tom Yoder’s house. “She just wants us to catch the bad guy so she can get on with her life.”

  There were several horses and buggies tied up next to Bishop Yoder’s house, indicating that several of the families were visiting with the pleasant man and his wife.

  As Frank and Jimmy got out of the car, the sound of voices came from around the back of the house, and the two men followed the noise to find several of the families gathered around two large picnic tables laden with food.

  “Ah, Detectives.” Tom Yoder broke away from the group of people and walked toward the men with a hesitant smile.

  “Good afternoon, Bishop,” Frank said as he noted the families who were present at the gathering. The widower William King was present, along with his seventeen-year-old son, Jason, who was attempting to corral his five much-younger brothers and sisters. Isaaic Zooker sat at one of the tables, a frown lowering his bushy eyebrows beneath the rim of his hat.

  Jacob and Sarah Fisher were there as well, along with several younger men and women Frank didn’t recognize.

  “Business or pleasure?” Tom asked.

  “Unfortunately, business,” Frank replied. “Friday night somebody tried to shoot Marlene Marcoli in the parking area behind the store.”

  Tom frowned. “We have no guns here, Detective Delaney. These people have no use for any kind of weapons. You know that violence isn’t our way.”

  “I understand that, Bishop, but is it possible there is somebody here who harbored a grudge toward the store or Marlene speci
fically? Is it possible that one of your godly people has a mental illness or has lost their way?”

  “We are a close-knit group. Surely I would know if that was the case.” It was more a question than a statement.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Do you mind if we ask a few questions of some of the people here?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Speak to whomever you need to,” Tom said without hesitation.

  “We’re mostly checking out anyone who has contact with Marlene through the store,” Jimmy explained.

  “That would be William King, Isaaic Zooker, Sarah Fisher and several of the other women. Oh, and Abraham Zooker, who isn’t here, but should be at his own home.” He pointed to a house in the distance.

  Within minutes Frank and Jimmy were speaking to the people Marlene had written down as doing business with her and the store.

  After an hour of interviewing the pertinent people, Frank and Jimmy walked back around the house to their car. “William King definitely has his hands full with all those kids,” Jimmy said.

  “Yeah, but it looks like his son Jason has taken on the brunt of caretaking for the family. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jason is actively seeking a new wife for his father so he can go back to being a seventeen-year-old kid.”

  “It’s obvious everyone here loves Sheri but doesn’t particularly care much for Marlene,” Jimmy said. “Most of the adjectives they used to describe her were cold and distant and vain.”

  “She’s none of those things,” Frank said as he started the car and headed toward Abraham Zooker’s house in the distance. “That’s just a facade she wears, but beneath it she’s a warm and caring woman who is just rather reserved until you get to know her.”

  Frank felt the weight of Jimmy’s gaze on him. “Getting a bit personal with the victim?” he asked.

  “Maybe a little,” Frank admitted. “She’s nice and things are rough for her right now, but it’s no big deal. I just like her, that’s all. I’m not looking for any kind of a relationship with her or anyone else.”

  “Grace would have wanted you to go on, to find happiness and love,” Jimmy said in a soft voice.

  Frank tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I’m willing to try to be anything important in any woman’s life again. I failed Grace, and I don’t want to take the chance of failing anyone else.”

  “You didn’t fail Grace,” Jimmy protested. “She was sick, Frank. You didn’t know when you married her that she’d had a long history of deep depression.”

  Frank was grateful to pull up in front of Abraham’s place and halt the current conversation. As they got out of the car, they heard sounds coming from the nearby shed that Frank knew Abraham used as a workshop.

  Frank stepped into the shed to find the older man sawing on a piece of wood. Like the other Amish, he wore a white shirt, black pants and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Although his face was weathered by the sun and age, he appeared to be in great physical shape. The lower half of his face was hidden by the long gray-streaked beard that all the men wore.

  Abraham looked up and stopped his work, his gaze curious. “Detective Delaney, Detective Carmani.” He placed his handsaw on a nearby workbench.

  “Working on a Sunday, Abraham? Won’t that get you into trouble?” Jimmy asked.

  “I’m being shunned, and so it makes no difference right now.”

  “Shunned for what?” Frank asked curiously.

  “Working on Sundays,” Abraham replied with a wry smile.

  “I just bought one of your rocking chairs for my father from the store...the platform rocker,” Frank said.

  “I hope your father finds it comfortable.”

  “He loves it,” Frank replied. “And I have several pieces of yours in my own home. You do beautiful work.”

  Abraham lowered his gaze. “It’s God working through my hands. Since I have no wife and little interest in socializing, I’ve asked Bishop Yoder to allow me to work on Sundays, but he refuses to give me permission.”

  He raised his gaze to meet Frank’s. “The work is all I have, and so I disobey my bishop and ask God’s forgiveness every Sunday night. So, is that why you’re here?”

  “No. You know we have no authority between you and Bishop Yoder and the rest of your community. We’re here about an attack on Marlene Marcoli that occurred on Friday night at the store,” Jimmy said.

  “An attack? What kind of an attack?” Abraham looked genuinely alarmed. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, but somebody shot at her in the back parking lot as she left the store. We’re here investigating that shooting,” Jimmy said.

  “Do you have any problems with Marlene?” Frank asked.

  “Probably less than most,” Abraham replied without hesitation. “I hear gossip. I know most folks around here don’t think much of her. They think she’s uppity and cold.”

  “And aside from the gossip, what are your feelings about her?” Frank asked.

  Abraham frowned thoughtfully. “I see a sadness in her eyes that I understand, although I don’t know what placed it there. My wife died four years ago...had a heart attack right in the middle of the kitchen while fixing the evening meal. When she died I stopped wanting to be sociable. I don’t want to invite anyone back into my life and that makes me odd and cold. But the truth is, I’ve thrown myself into my work.”

  He walked over to what appeared to be a nightstand in progress and placed his hand on the top of the wood. “This won’t die on me. This is what keeps me sane. My work. The answer to your question is that I had no problems with Marlene and I wouldn’t ever want her hurt. I know her and her sisters are already hurting from their aunt’s disappearance. They have enough pain in their lives for me to want to inflict any more on them.”

  It was the longest discussion Frank had ever had with Abraham and he found himself liking the man, despite his situation among his own close-knit community.

  “Do you know anyone here who might want to harm Marlene or any members of her family?” Frank asked.

  Abraham shook his head. “These are good people. I don’t think you’ll find anyone here who is capable of intentionally harming anyone.” He picked up his handsaw again, as if eager to get back to work.

  “Where were you on Friday night?” Frank asked.

  “Where I am every night—here at home. I don’t like to travel after dark. We have enough problems with our horses and buggies during the daylight hours and with irate vehicle drivers.”

  Frank knew that was an issue that had grown more problematic as the population and tourist trade in Wolf Creek had increased. The sight of the Amish horses and buggies often made tourists slow to a near halt and gawk, irritating drivers behind them who might want to get through. Thankfully they had never had a traffic accident involving a vehicle and the horses and buggies that were familiar sights to the locals and intriguing to tourists.

  Minutes later Frank and Jimmy were again in the car and headed back to the station. Frustration burned like acid in the pit of Frank’s stomach.

  He hadn’t really expected to get any answers from the Amish people, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d hoped for something, anything, that might move them closer to discovering the perpetrator.

  “Maybe Steve will have some information for us,” Jimmy said, as if sensing the dark mood beginning to grip Frank by the throat.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “And maybe Chelsea will follow Michael and he’ll not only lead us to Liz Marcoli but also the evidence that he was behind the attack on Marlene. I also want to check up on Edward Cardell and see what he’s been doing the last week or two of his life. I’m just frustrated that we have absolutely nothing.”

  “It’s only been two days since the shooting. You know investigations don’t usually unfold so quickly. It’s not a matter of if we’ll
get the bad guy—it’s just a matter of when.”

  Frank flashed his partner a grateful smile. “That’s what we like about you, Jimmy. You’re definitely the optimist of the group.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I just refuse to see failure as an option.”

  Frank didn’t want to think about being unsuccessful on this particular case. He didn’t want to think about failing Marlene. He couldn’t forget that the last time he’d failed a woman she’d wound up dead.

  Chapter 10

  Friday night Marlene sat on the edge of the bed, her laptop open in front of her as she worked on a new recipe that had popped into her head.

  She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Almost eight. Frank had said he’d stop by sometime after dark, and she couldn’t believe how much she was looking forward to seeing him.

  She’d been completely alone for the entire week, although she and Frank had shared many phone calls. Still, she was surprised to discover that she didn’t like this kind of complete isolation.

  Certainly the phone calls from Frank had helped. Some had simply been short updates, but others had been long, sharing questions and answers that had nothing to do with the crime, but were more personal in nature. Talking on the phone wasn’t the same as having actual human contact.

  Like a ghost, she’d wandered the house only at night in the dark, afraid of being seen in any of the other rooms by neighbors.

  In the past five days of wraithlike existence, she’d had a lot of time to think and had realized that for the past year she’d been going through her life like a ghost, drifting from day to day, alone and haunted by memories that had kept her rattling chains of loneliness.

  The investigation hadn’t moved forward in the past week. Nobody had been able to pin down Matt’s whereabouts, no bogeyman had raised his head to show his face, and Michael Arello had done nothing to raise suspicions.

  Each time she spoke to Frank she felt his frustration radiating over the phone. She hoped he brought news with him when he arrived, as she hadn’t spoken to him since early that morning.