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2883 Words
Detective Taylor Kent sat down behind the table in the small windowless room where a handful of homicide detectives sat through a debriefing on some cold cases. She and her partner John Miles had just cleared four cases from their desk and needed a new one. She idly pushed her long chocolate hair off her shoulder sipping on a cup of lousy precinct coffee as the Captain went over the cases they had available.
The first was a young woman found in the Athabasca River with two rounds in her. She was an obvious victim of foul play with no viable suspects. Two senior detectives immediately volunteered to take the case. The next case up for grabs was a double homicide, multiple stabbings, believed to be victims of gang violence. Taylor and John volunteered to take the case, but Captain Faulkton gave it to another team.
“I have something, in particular, I want you two on.” Captain Faulkton said popping another antacid into his mouth. The man was twenty years Taylor’s senior and nursing an ulcer due to the stress of his job. His thin dark hair was greying at the sides, and he always had dark shadows under his eyes. He had a long hooked nose and a dark bushy moustache that reminded her of her grandfather.
He placed a case file on the table in front of them. John picked it up and began to peruse through it. John was much older than Taylor also, the senior detective in their partnership he had ten years under his belt when she had come to him as a rookie detective just five years ago. Both single and dedicated to the job, John and Taylor logged a lot of hours in the field together becoming very close over the years.
John was about fifteen years older than Taylor with short dark curls and a clean-cut beard. Like Taylor, he had grown up in a small rural community, the eldest in a large family of six siblings on a small farm. Taylor herself was the youngest of four. With three older brothers, she had to learn to defend herself young since they would always pick on her. Unlike Taylor, who knew at a young age that she wanted to be a detective, John just sort of fell into law enforcement and found he had a knack for it.
“Small town murder?” John said passing the file to her as he went through it.
“Yes, unfortunately, the victim is a less than the sympathetic victim. Small town bully and alleged woman beater, needless to say, everyone in town hated the man, and they all think he got what he deserved. So that leaves us with some suspects, and anyone that might know something won’t talk to the cops. All the locals in the area went tight-lipped the moment we started investigating. It was incredible how nobody knows anything.”
“We don’t believe them?” Taylor asked as she looked at the crime scene photos. The body had been hung by a hangman’s noose in a very public way, with a note attached to the body. She flipped to the next page to find a copy of the note that had attached to the body. This is justice.
“You should know as well as anyone that nothing happens in a small town without everyone knowing about it; be it missing church or getting pulled over for speeding. By the end of the day, everyone knows every detail. You can’t keep secrets in small towns. So, you tell me, what are the odds that something like this happens and not one person knows anything about it?”
She had to admit the Captain had a point. It was odd that no one knew anything. The community knew more than they were letting on. Either they knew who did it or they suspected. Either way, they were protecting someone. They had a despicable victim and most likely a sympathetic killer. It was never a pleasant case to make, but murder was murder, and the law was the law. Someone had to be held accountable.
“So, what do we do if they won’t talk to the cops? You want us to get wiretaps? Maybe stake out a particular suspect?” John suggested.
“I want you two to infiltrate the town.” Captain Faulkton said. “We are hoping that if you situate yourselves as residents within the town, the other townsfolk will warm up to you. Hopefully, if they do not know you as law enforcement, then town gossip will take over, and you might be able to reveal some information we could not get out of them prior. You may be able to narrow down or pinpoint one suspect.”
“So, you want us to go undercover?” Taylor said with some excitement. She had never been undercover before.
“Yes. I chose you because you both come from small-town backgrounds. You know how it works, how the people are, you should be able to fit in with little effort. Now our intelligence tells us that the town’s reverend is renting out some property he owns just outside the town. You two are going to go in as father and daughter just moved here from Ontario looking for work in our booming economy. You will rent the reverend’s property and do whatever it takes to involve yourselves with the people in the town.” He ordered taking a few surveillance pictures out of the file and laying them out across the table top. “Especially these. At the moment these are our prime suspects.”
Taylor looked over the pictures of the men laid out across the table. An array of rough and tumble cowboy types all around her age. “Why these guys?”
“We believe the murder was motivated by revenge for the alleged assault of this woman.” He said taking out the crime scene photos of the victim, a badly beaten redhead. “Brook Giles, apparently the victim had a thing for her and a history of harassing the young woman. There was an altercation between them, and he allegedly beat her the night before her wedding.” He said pointing to the picture of a handsome young man with dark chestnut hair and a dashing smile. “The same night the fiancé Dawson Archer went Rambo on the victim and his two brothers with a baseball bat sending all three to the emergency room.”
“But if he was going to kill him why not do it then?” John asked. “Why wait to later?”
“So not to be caught.” The Captain suggested. “He is not off the hook. However, he is out of the jurisdiction. He and his wife now live in Nashville to accommodate her new career. Luckily we have an extradition agreement with the states and if he is guilty we’ll bring him back so don’t rule him out.”
“What about the girl herself?” Taylor asked. “Maybe she did it herself to get vengeance on the man who hurt her.”
Captain Faulkton shook his head. “I doubt it. We ruled her out by sheer physical impossibility. Sam Griffin was six foot two. He weighed two hundred and sixty-eight pounds. Brook Giles is five foot five and a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. There is no way she was physically capable of subduing, lynching, and hoisting all that dead weight twenty feet up over the street lights. Just based on the sheer mechanics required to pull it off we know the culprit had to have been a man.”
Captain Faulkton pointed to the next picture. A raven-haired cowboy that looked remarkably like the first gentleman. “Liam Archer, Dawson’s older brother. He grew up around Miss. Giles and is reported to have a tenderness for her and a history of a violent temper. Like his brother, he took a bat to somebody in a fit of rage.” He then pointed to the next picture of a young fellow with short golden hair and muddy jeans. “Josh Hinckley, local farm vet and ranch hand. Also, a close family friend of the Giles, and Brook’s ex-boyfriend. He was reported to have been furious when she arrived at the house after the assault.” The next picture was that of a chestnut-haired man in his early twenties carrying a guitar into a bar. “Nick Julies, friend and colleague of Miss. Giles, and the unfortunate one who found her after the assault. He was reported to be very upset.”
“Upset enough to kill someone?” John asked. There were a lot of men willing to defend this poor girl. Taylor found herself wondering just what was so spectacular about her.
“It is possible.” Her Captain said. He then took out another picture and placed it on the table before them. It was a man in his early thirties perhaps. He was tall and handsome, with dark eyes and wavy golden hair under his worn tan cowboy hat as he sat atop a chestnut stallion. He was clean-shaven, with a strong jaw, a straight nose, and a boyish smile. In the picture, he wore dirty, faded blue jeans and a white sleeveless undershirt. His t-shirt tucked in his belt behind him. He wore old worn leathered work gloves as he held tight to the reins, his old tanned boot securely placed in the stirrups. He was looking back over his shoulder at something and Taylor could not help but wonder at what.
“This is our number one suspect outside the husband. Steven Giles, Brook’s older brother. From what we understand Mr. Giles is very protective of his little sister, fanatically so. We believe that it is possible that when he failed to protect her, he may have sought retribution. The man has a history of violent behaviour when it comes to his sister.”
John picked up the photo to take a closer look. “So, we got five viable suspects, all supposedly upstanding, well-liked citizens, and nothing to tie any of them to the actual murder.”
“See what you can get on them. Liam Archer runs a horse ranch where both Hinckley and Giles are employed. You might be able to get close to them if you can get hired on as a ranch hand, see what you can do.” Captain Faulkton suggested placing the pictures back in the file and pointing to the stack of papers on the case. “Review the case and requisition what you might need. Get yourselves out to Higgins Alberta and see what you two can’t dig up.”
John turned and smiled at Taylor. “Well, darling do you want Chinese or Italian tonight.” He asked playfully knowing they were likely going to be at their desks all night reviewing the details of the case.
“Whatever you prefer Pops.” She teased.
***
Steve Giles shot up straight in his seat when someone kicked the table leg knocking over his mostly finished beer. Even in his state, he moved fast enough to catch it before it spilled onto his jeans. He looked up to see Edna Marsh, one of the Iron Horse’s prettier waitress’.
“It is closing time love.” She smiled taking the bottle from his hand. Steve smirked as he sat back in his seat and watched her wipe his table down. “You can’t stay here.”
“I’m too drunk to drive.” He said admiring her short jean skirt over that tout round butt. “What you say you drive me home?”
Edna pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder and waved her rag at him playfully. “Last time I did that I never made it home.”
“I don’t see the problem.”
“You are cute but not that cute. I’m not going down that road again. Pete would never forgive me.”
Steve sighed. That was right she had recently started seeing Peter Harris. He didn’t think it was all too serious just yet, but Pete was a big man, not too bright, but big. No Steve didn’t feel like poaching another man’s woman was all too smart.
“Ok sugar,” He groaned getting to his feet and swaying as he reached into his left pocket for his keys. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“Oh no, you are not driving.” She said waving down another co-worker. “Nicky’s finished up. He’ll take you home. Won’t you Nicky?”
Nick Julies was the local talent since Brook left town and a close family friend. He picked up his guitar case and plopped his cowboy hat over his blond curls as he came to the table.
“Ok, you drive,” Steve said handing his keys over.
“We’ll take my truck,” Nick said stuffing Steve’s keys back in his jeans. “You can pick up your truck tomorrow.” He guided Steve to the doors holding onto Steve’s arm so he wouldn’t stumble.
“Sounds good.” Steve was an easy going drunk; the staff never had any problems with him. Nick pushed open the doors, and the cool spring air hit Steve like a ton of bricks. It was a sobering kind of cold and Steve shook it off.
They had almost reached Nick’s truck, which was not parked too far from his own when a woman came around the front of the truck and face to face with Steve. “Dear God!” Steve snapped turning to walk the other way. He knew this woman all too well. Hell, the whole town did. Maggie Diggs. She was an attractive woman when she was not obsessing like a nut job. They had dated once, briefly, and when he left her, he acquired himself a stalker. Oh, she was harmless but annoying. He couldn’t seem to avoid her. Then again it didn’t help that she was his best friend’s wife’s best friend. He had hoped that the fact that they lived two hours apart would have helped in the breakup but then she decided to move to Higgins, to be closer to Raven, so she said.
“Do you need a ride home?” Maggie had been in the bar all night hindering any shot he had at hooking up. Steve had hoped that if he waited long enough, she would have gone home, but it would appear she had waited in the parking lot in the hopes of taking advantage of his drunken stupor. She had already managed to work her way back in his bed once before because he was too drunk and too horny. But waking up to her the next morning had been hell. He hadn’t been able to convince her since that thing between them would never be.
There was nothing wrong with her physically. She was very Barbie-like with her narrow waist, bursting bust, golden hair and flawless skin. She was stunning but clingy for a guy that lived for casual s*x. He was too young for settling down, a fact she was just unwilling to accept.
“Got a ride already,” Steve said opening the door to Nick’s truck. “You go home.” He’ll go anywhere as long as it was far away from him. Steve and Nick hopped in, and Nick started up the truck while Steve locked his door. Everyone in the area knew about Maggie’s obsession, and they all did their best to run interference. However, Steve was seriously starting to contemplate visiting his sister in Nashville for a few years, though he supposed Maggie would follow him there too.
Nick pulled out of the parking lot and headed on down the road. The headlights were the only thing he could see on the road. “You going to need a ride come morning?” Nick asked pulling on to Steve’s land. He didn’t live too far away.
“No, I can walk back in the morning,” Steve said falling out of the truck.
“Easy,” Nick called leaning across his bench seat. “You need help getting inside?”
Steve laughed and shrugged his friend’s concern off. He would be fine he always was. Steve staggered up the front steps and fumbled with his keys before remembering that he never locked his door. Staggering inside Steve tossed his keys at the table beside the door missing by a country mile and then walked over to the couch fell over the arm and passed out.
- Writer
