Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye (20 page)

Claude dropped Cam at the Miner’s Bluff Police Department at the same time as Blanca was getting out of her car and walking into the office.

She spotted him and asked, “Have you been up all night?”

“No.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing you this early before.”

“I quit drinking yesterday.”

“Good morning, Officer Gomez. I would stay and talk but I have a very busy schedule,” Claude said.

Blanca continued to ignore Claude.

“Can we go into your office and talk?” Cam asked as he pushed at her back and tried to hurry her along. “I can see that you are not a big fan of my friend.”

“Your friend?” she said, as they shuffled across the parking lot. “Your
friend
?” she said again as they neared her office door. “
Friend?
How can you call him your friend when you include him in your group of suspects for a murder!” Blanca was screaming.

“He didn’t do it,” Cam said, slamming the door of her office unintentionally as soon as she entered.

“And how did you come into this new information?”

“I just did,” Cam tried. “I know you don’t think I’m a very good detective, but I am. Sometimes I know things I shouldn’t.”

“I think your brain is pickled.”

Cam had just sat down. He stood back up as his face turned red. He pulled at his collar as his body temperature quickly rose. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

“Go right ahead,” Blanca said.

“If you want to test what I do and do
not
know, why don’t we have a little discussion about Johnny Papers.” Blanca had killed Johnny Papers a lifetime ago and had not thought about him with a sober mind in quite some time.

“Where did you hear that name?” she said, dumbfounded. She too stood and pulled at her collar. “Who told you that?”

“Do you really want to go there? I’m willing to leave it at the name if you’re willing to believe me and what I do and do not know.”

“Fine,” Blanca said conceding and sitting back down. “And I do think you’re a good detective. I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I didn’t. I just think you escape a little too much.”

Cam sat back down. “I know you don’t think I can really quit, but please do the decent thing and give me a chance. I don’t think anybody else really will. I know Daphne and Claude want to believe me, but I know in their heart of hearts they think I’ll be drinking again in the next few days.”

“OK. I do believe in you. I really do.” Blanca sat back down. “But I have to ask again, where did you hear the name Johnny Papers?”

“You told me about him and his death the night you got drunk at my house,” Cam replied.

She sighed. “What do we do now?”

“We search Darren’s house.”

An hour later Blanca had the warrant. She floored her squad car toward Darren’s house with Cam beside her.

“Why do I feel we’re being led on a wild goose chase?” Blanca asked.

“It’s probably because we are on a wild goose chase.”

“Forgive me for being ignorant, but why are we doing it?”

“Because it will lead us to something else.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m almost positive.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Blanca said, with a smirk.

As the two rolled down Darren’s long driveway they began to notice the dogs running amuck. Remembering Darren’s command, Cam lowered the window and yelled, “Pen.” The dogs began running toward the fenced area. At the end of the drive he yelled the command two more times from the safety of the car. The dogs followed the command and ran into the pen. As the last dog entered the gate, Cam hopped out of the car, sprinted to the gate and slammed it shut. In the middle of the pen, Darren lay face down, dead.

Chapter Thirty-one

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cam said, standing at the gate. The dogs began sniffing around Darren. “How are we supposed to get in there to make sure he’s not still alive?”

“I could shoot them all,” Blanca offered.

“Dog lover, are you? I’m sure that’d go over well in the paper.”

“What can I say—I’m a cat person.”

“Let me look inside and see if there’s any food I can distract them with.” Cam darted toward the front door and found it open. Less than a minute later he returned with a giant bag of dog food draped over his shoulder. About thirty yards from the pen he stood and shook the bag to get the dogs’ attention. When he had all of their eyes on him he began pouring the contents of the bag in a deep line. The dogs gathered at the gate. Blanca joined Cam in the small area where they would be protected from the dogs after they swung the gate fully open.

“I think they’re ready,” Blanca said, as the dogs waited for an opening.

“Eat!” Cam yelled as he opened the gate. The dogs ignored Cam and Blanca as they dashed toward the food. When the last dog exited the pen, they raced inside and slammed the gate closed, locking it behind them.

Inching toward Darren, both Cam and Blanca knew before they reached him that he was dead. He looked as though he’d fallen face first into the muddy ground and stuck. A mason jar rested on its side near his body. Some of the clear liquid still remained in the glass container.

Blanca pulled gloves out of her pocket and slipped her hands inside. She handed a second pair to Cam. Picking up the jar, she pulled it to her nose and sniffed.

“I can’t really smell anything. I’m guessing he got a hold of some bad shine.”

“Shouldn’t we turn him over to see if he’s been shot or stabbed before you jump to conclusions?”

“Go ahead if that’ll make you happy. This just reeks of a case I had in one of my first years on the job in this town.” Blanca peered down at Darren’s body.

“Care to explain?”

“To put it simply, a good batch of moonshine produces ethanol. Without getting too technical, it first produces methanol which should be thrown out. It has a lower boiling point and comes out first. Have you ever heard the stories about moonshine causing blindness?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the stories are true. If a person drinks too much of the methanol, they can either go blind or wind up dead. It would only take about a shot glass of it to do the trick. If you wanted to kill a moonshine drinker, all you would have to do is give them the first drippings mixed in with the rest.”

“Wouldn’t he be able to tell?”

“It’s possible, but in all likelihood, he was already drunk and didn’t have his senses when he drank it.”

“Maybe he had a heart attack,” Cam suggested.

“This is just too convenient. I doubt that’s what killed him but if you’re willing to make a bet on it, I’m taking my theory over yours.”

Cam walked back toward the house and out of the pen when he spotted a trail of vomit on the ground.

“Look at this,” he called to Blanca.

“A definite sign of alcohol poisoning. And I don’t know if it’s just me, but his skin seemed to have a tinge of blue.”

“That’s why I thought heart attack.”

“That and vomiting are sure signs of alcohol poisoning. With all the alcohol you’ve drank in your life I’m surprised you don’t look like a smurf.”

“You’re hilarious. Let’s look inside.”

Although Cam had just been inside, he’d been so focused on finding the dog food he hadn’t really looked around. Stepping inside again he paused to absorb the room. Blanca edged up behind him leaving the outside door open.

“Doesn’t seem as though there was a struggle,” she said. As she spoke the smell hit her. “What the hell is that smell?”

It hit Cam at the same time. “Oh, God. Vomit. You created a draft with the open door. There must be a window open.” He walked to the bathroom. “Found it.”

Blanca walked to the bathroom, peered inside, and quickly ran outside in search of clean air. Cam followed.

“My God,” she said, coughing and spitting on the ground. “It looks like his stomach exploded in there.”

The bathroom looked like a set from a horror film. Vomit covered the floor, dripped from the walls, and filled the sink. A clumsy attempt had been made to clean as a few towels were strewn around the small room. The window was open and Darren’s retching also covered the sill.

“If he was feeling so sick, why would he be in the dog pen?” Cam asked. “Why wouldn’t he call for help?”

“He was disoriented.” Blanca spit again. “I know we need to go back in there but I don’t do throw up.”

“I think if I close the window in the bathroom and the door, the smell will still be there, but not as bad. Then you should be able to pull your shirt over your nose and give it a go.”

Cam walked back toward the bathroom and took a deep breath. Holding his air he tiptoed to the window, grabbed a clean spot, and pushed it down. The sill itself was filled with liquid as Darren must have unsuccessfully leaned out the window at some point to puke. The liquid squished and jumped in the air as Cam jumped back repulsed. Hopping once again across the bathroom’s clean areas he shut the door and let out his breath.

“The door and window are closed,” he called to Blanca. “Come back in when you think you’re ready.”

Cam walked straight to the couch, knelt down, and peered under. The wallet was still there. With his gloves still on he pulled it out. Blanca walked back into the room with her shirt over her mouth and nose and he handed her the worn leather billfold. She opened it, slid the driver’s license out of its slot, returned it, and closed the wallet.

“This all just seems too convenient to me. You already told me that Claude is the one who put this here, but why? How did he get it?”

“Claude didn’t kill Billy Prescott.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around that.” Blanca’s shirt began to slide down as she spoke with animation. She grabbed the fabric, pulled it up, and squeezed it around her nose. “Tell me again how you know he didn’t do it.”

“Maybe later. Let’s check the rest of the place and see if we can find anything else out of the ordinary.”

As she glanced around, continuing to hold her shirt, she said, “Everything looks out of the ordinary.”

“Not really. This is just what it looks like when a guy lives alone without the influence of a good woman.” He glanced at Blanca and could tell by her eyes that she was smiling.

The coroner and a crime team arrived within minutes of each other. Cam and Blanca stood on the porch and watched as the posse spied the dogs. One of the women from the crime team rolled down the car window and shouted, “Are the dogs friendly?”

“Nope,” Blanca shouted back. “We called animal control. If I was you I’d wait.”

As if on cue, the dog catcher sped onto the scene. He surveyed the scene from the van and slowly exited. As he opened the side door of the vehicle the dogs looked up from the food and eyed him. Another man appeared from inside the van in a padded suit, which made him look like the Michelin Man.

The Michelin Man stepped out of the van and inched toward the dogs. He carried a tool with a loop on the end. He quickly snagged one of the dogs and crated the struggling animal. Seeing the capture, the other two dogs sensed danger and began barking. One bared his teeth and began inching toward the first man. He raised a tranquilizer gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The dog looked around as if trying to figure out what had just happened. The dog took two steps toward him and fell to the ground. Before he had a chance to reload and get the last dog it charged the other man, jumped, and latched onto his padded arm. Grabbing the catch pole off the ground he slipped the loop around the dog’s neck and got it under control.

With all three dogs crated, the crime team got out of their vehicle and Cam and Blanca walked down from the porch.

“Good work guys,” Blanca said. “And I thought you guys just saved kittens from trees.” The two men laughed as they stored their items and positioned the dogs inside the van for transport.

“What do we have here?” the leader of the crime team asked Blanca.

She walked with them toward Darren’s body as Cam slipped back inside the house. As he took one more look around he noticed a mirror attached to the ceiling over Darren’s bed.
I didn’t peg this one as a freak.

Cam hopped onto the bed and rested his head against the stack of pillows at the head. He peered up at the mirror and looked into his own eyes. His head jerked to one side and then the other. His insides shattered.

Chapter Thirty-two

Rowdy paced the floor of his office. Dell stood at the door watching him without his knowledge before talking.

“Did you have too much coffee this morning, Rowdy? Mom always said that you get restless when you have too much caffeine.”

“No, I did not have too much coffee. Dr. Wilson said I could only have a cup a day and I’ve been mostly sticking to his suggestion.” He tousled his hair and studied Dell. “What’s behind your back?”

“I got you a birthday present.”

“My birthday isn’t for five more months.”

“It’s an early present. Or maybe it’s a late present,” Dell said, as confusion washed over his face.

“Just give it to me.”

“Well, that is
not
the birthday spirit,” Dell scolded.

“That’s because it’s not my freaking birthday!”

“I’m gonna tell Dr. Wilson that you screamed at me and that you’re heart almost exploded right before my very eyes.”

“I’m sorry, Dell. What did you get me for my late or early birthday?”

“That’s the spirit,” Dell said, pulling the letter from behind his back. “I got you a letter from the state crime lab.” He handed the letter to Rowdy.

“Oh my, I believe this is the best birthday present anybody could have ever given me.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

Rowdy tore open the envelope. He pulled the papers out and began reading.

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist. “We have everything we need to go get him and convict.”

“Didn’t you already know it was going to say that?”

“I guess I did,” Rowdy said, setting the papers on his desk. “I just didn’t believe it would come this quickly. We’re leaving for Miner’s Bluff first thing in the morning.”