Death Makes the Front Page (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries) Page 2

  Owen laughed. “Forget I asked.” He took a bite of his burger. “Have you heard from your aunt?”

  “Why on earth do you keep asking me about her? She’s dead.”

  “No official proof yet. I was just curious.”

  I gathered my things and stood up. “Is there anything else you want to talk about? I’ve got some work to do, and a dog to take for a walk.”

  “A bit touchy, aren’t you?”

  “She tried to kill me, remember? I hardly think she’s going to give me fair warning if she was planning to try again. But this is all a moot point, isn’t it?”

  “We’re not sure if we have her body or not,” Owen reminded me.”

  “It’s been three months. No one could have survived that crash.”

  Owen shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. One more question: since when do you care so much about Dale Gordon?”

  “Since he started signing my paychecks three months ago. That’s my only source of income at the moment, since Amos’ estate is tied up in probate.”

  “I’ll check out Coogan, but I think it’s a waste of time.”

  As I left, I hoped Owen was right. But I couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling that Dale was in serious trouble.

  I spent the afternoon working on two new stories for next week’s edition, and then wrote two chapters on my novel. Looking up from the computer, I realized it was almost five p.m. I saved my work, shut off the computer, and grabbed Babe’s leash. I knew she preferred to walk around her old stomping grounds, but today, I went to the road that ran in front of the town cemetery.

  Pulling up near the front gate, I let Babe out, and she ran off toward the cemetery grounds before I could clip on her leash. I decided there was no harm in letting her run, but I grabbed a plastic bag from the bed of the truck, just in case.

  I started strolling after her, reading the names on the stones as I walked. Some people I knew, others I didn’t. I stopped near the spot where Amos was buried, noting that no one had placed the headstone we had ordered yet. I’d have to make sure to remind Mother to check on that.

  Suddenly, Babe started baying. She came running back and sat down in front of me. It was what she had in her mouth that made my eyes widen in surprise. When I tried to take the blue ball cap from her mouth, Babe ran off again, this time with me in hot pursuit.

  I found her sitting next to a hole, the cap still in her mouth. Chills ran up and down my spine when I looked down.

  It was Oliver Coogan, lying on his stomach. The back of his head looked like it had been bashed in with a baseball bat. I bent over and checked for a pulse. Nothing.

  Oh boy.

  Chapter 3

  Thirty minutes later, the place was crawling with police. Owen had called in the troops to help secure the crime scene, and the M.E. was bent over the body, taking pictures. “Did you touch him anywhere?” he asked me.

  “Just his wrist to check for a pulse.”

  He grunted as he started wrapping Oliver’s hands in paper bags. I turned and walked toward my car as Owen finished a call on his phone. “How did you just happen to find the body?”

  “I didn’t, Babe did.”

  “What were you doing over here?

  “I was tired of looking at that old burned down house, so I came here for a change of scenery. Babe ran off, and I followed her. She came running back with Oliver’s cap in her mouth.”

  “How did you know it was his hat?”

  “Because he had it on when we were at the park.”

  “Doc says he may have been hit with the shovel they found in the hole next to him. Do you own a shovel?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Is it still in your shed?”

  “Are you accusing me of killing Oliver Coogan?” I said incredulously.

  “Did you?”

  “No! Go to my house and look in my shed. I’m sure you will find it right where it is supposed to be.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, someone is already on their way there to check.”

  “I cannot believe you actually think I killed him,” I fumed.

  “The first person on the scene is usually the murderer, Lizzie.”

  “Well, you didn’t believe I killed Amos, and I was the one who found him.”

  “One body I can excuse. Two…well, you’re either incredibly unlucky, or you’re turning into a cold-blooded killer like your aunt.”

  I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Mother? Would you please call your lawyer and have him meet me at the police station? I think I’m about to be arrested, and if I’m not, I plan to sue Owen Greene and the city for slander.” I listened for a minute, and then held out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Owen took the phone. “Good evening, Mrs. Crenshaw. How are you…well ma’am, she found another body, and she did have a very public altercation with the victim this morning. Yes ma’am, I know that but…yes ma’am, I remember that, but you have to understand…no ma’am, I would never do that. Yes ma’am, I’ll do that right now.” He handed me the phone. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, I’m just trying to do my job. She says to get over there as soon as you can. There’s meatloaf for dinner.” He started to walk off, but turned back. “For the record, I don’t think you did it.”

  “Well isn’t that special? Are you just saying that because my mother just chewed you out?”

  “No, I’m saying it because I don’t think you would get up close and personal to kill someone. I think you’d run them over with your car or Amos’ old truck.”

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  “Because if I didn’t ask, it would appear that I was showing favoritism. The officer I sent to your house will take your shovel into evidence, provided it is in the shed as you claim. The lab will test it for DNA, all nice and legal. Please tell your mother that when you see her. I’m going to need you to come to the station later this evening, preferably without the lawyer, to give your statement.”

  “I’ll bring you some meatloaf.” He smiled and walked off. I turned and literally ran right into T.J., who wrapped his arms around me to keep me from falling backwards. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “I came in when Owen was obviously being chewed out by your mother,” T.J. chuckled. “Sorry we have to cancel our dinner plans.”

  “I understand. Work comes first.”

  “Yes, but not because I want it to,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “I’d rather spend the evening with you than a dead body.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “T.J.!” Owen called.

  “You better go. Mr. Crankypants is calling.”

  He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you when I’m done, if it’s not too late.” He jogged over to join Owen near the body.

  My phone rang as I got into the truck, and I frowned when I saw the number. Dale. I thought about ignoring him for now, but I really didn’t want to get yelled at by him again. Sighing, I hit the talk button. “Hi, Dale. How’s it going?”

  “What’s this I hear that you’ve found another body? Did you get pictures and interviews?”

  “You want me to interview the dead body? What am I supposed to ask him? ‘Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me who bashed your head in?’”

  “Don’t be a smart aleck, Crenshaw. Did you interview that bumbling sheriff?”

  “If you are referring to Owen, no, I didn’t. I was too busy answering his questions.”

  “Do they have an I.D. on the body yet?

  I hesitated for two reasons: one, because I didn’t know if Owen wanted that information released yet, and two, because I really didn’t want to be the one to tell Dale that his ‘business associate’ was dead. A weird thought struck me. What if Dale killed him?

  “Crenshaw!” Dale yelled. “Do they know who the dead man is?”

  “No,” I lied. I’m a coward. So, shoot me.

  “Hang around there and see what you can find out. I want a story on my desk by 9
p.m.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, Dale. You could write up what we know in about two minutes. ‘A body was found in a freshly dug grave in the cemetery. Police are not releasing any information at this time, including the identity of the victim.’ You know Doc isn’t going to give Owen any information until after he does an autopsy.”

  “Stupid sheriff. I’d like to sue him for interfering with the performance of my duties,” Dale grumbled.

  “Give them time to investigate. I can go to the police station in the morning, ask some questions, and write a story for the next edition.”

  “Guess that will have to do,” he conceded.

  “One thing before you go.”

  “What? I’m busy over here, Crenshaw.”

  “That man at the park this morning, is he working on a story with you?”

  “What business is that of yours?”

  “I was just curious about what kind of story you are working on, that’s all. It must be pretty big to get the boss to write it.”

  “It’s none of your business, so stop asking. You’ve got enough to do without poking your nose into my business.”

  “It was just a…”

  “And let me tell you something else, Crenshaw,” he interrupted. “If I catch you nosing around my business again, I will fire you. No questions asked.” He hung up.

  Well, well, well. What exactly is Dale trying to hide? And was it worth my job to find out?

  Of course it was.

  Because I’m nosy.

  Chapter 4

  The minute I walked in the door, my mother was all over me like a pack of crazed women waiting for a sale to start at a department store. “Just what have you been up to today, Elizabeth?” I knew she was upset when she called me that. If she used my full name, I was toast. “I have been getting calls all day about the things that you have been doing around town. From what I have heard, you have been behaving rather scandalously. I don’t even want to talk about that phone call.”

  Don’t you just love small towns, where gossip spreads faster than a rumor on social media? She caught me off guard, so I did the only thing I could think of: I denied everything. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mother. Owen mentioned you were making meatloaf for dinner. It smells great,” I said, hurrying toward the kitchen.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” she replied as she followed me. “And please put that dog on the back porch. I just vacuumed in here.”

  I opened the back door and let Babe out. When I turned around, Mother was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at me. She had that look on her face that told me I wasn’t getting dinner until I spilled my guts. Sighing, I sat down across from her. “What exactly have you heard?”

  “Let’s start with your assault on a total stranger in the park. Delia was the first one to call me. She said you laid him out flat on the ground!”

  “Did she happen to mention the man punched Dale Gordon?”

  “Well, no, she didn’t.”

  “I knocked him down so he wouldn’t hit Dale again. I was defending another person, which you taught me to.”

  “I taught you to defend yourself, not to use someone like a tackle dummy, Elizabeth.”

  “You do it your way, I’ll do it my way. What’s next?”

  “Gladys called to say you were behaving like a common tramp at the café.”

  “T.J. was leaving, and he kissed me goodbye. Gladys is just an old prude.”

  “You have a point there,” my mother conceded. “She was like that when we were in high school.”

  “I’m surprised she ever managed to get married. I wonder how she tricked her husband into that.”

  Mother shifted in her chair. “We are not discussing Gladys right now, we are talking about you. Now explain to me why I got a call from Thelma, informing me that you have found another body.”

  “I didn’t. Babe did.”

  “Semantics, Elizabeth. Babe was with you at the time.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. Body in a hole, head bashed in, blood everywhere.”

  “Spare me the gory details,” Mother said, holding up her hand.

  “Are you satisfied I have not been besmirching the family name now?”

  Mother got up to check the meatloaf. “I knew you didn’t, Elizabeth. I raised you better than that.” I bit back a retort. “How is your new job working out?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to win a Pulitzer Prize with articles about the local garden club.”

  “As long as you like the work, that’s the most important thing.”

  “I’d rather be home, working on my novel, but it’s nice to have a little extra money in the bank. May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I chewed on my lip for a second. “How long have you known Dale?”

  “Oh goodness, let me think. He moved here when I was in the third grade. He was a year ahead of me in school. Why do you ask?”

  “Do you think he would ever be involved in anything underhanded?”

  She looked at me, puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking, Lizzie.”

  “Before I tackled the guy in the park, he and Dale were having a very intense argument. Maddie at the café said they had breakfast there this morning, and Dale had his reporter’s pad out, writing things down. She doesn’t know what they were talking about, but it sounds like he is working on some big story.”

  “Well, he is the editor of the newspaper, Lizzie. He does write stories once in a while.”

  I sighed. “I know that, Mother, but I just get the feeling that Dale is in over his head.”

  “But you don’t have any concrete proof.”

  I shook my head. “It was just watching the two of them together. I…can’t explain it.”

  “Your gut instinct?” I nodded. “Your instincts have always been pretty accurate, Lizzie. If you think something is going on, there’s a good chance you’re right. Dale wasn’t always the grumpy person he is now. We even dated for a while in high school. He was a real sweetheart back then.”

  “Are we talking about the same person? Dale Gordon? The biggest pain in the…”

  “Set the table,” Mother interrupted. As I did what she asked, she continued. “Yes, the very same person. He was valedictorian of his senior class, extremely intelligent. He got a scholarship to Northwestern University in Illinois. After college graduation, he worked for a big newspaper up there, and was even nominated for a Pulitzer.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I never kid. He married some high society woman. I don’t remember who she was – I never met her – and they had a daughter.”

  “Dale’s married?”

  “Was married,” Mother corrected. “He lost his wife and daughter in a tragic accident thirty years ago. He quit his job and came back here.”

  “Wow, I had no idea. Dale never talks about his personal life. He’s too busy growling and barking orders at everyone.”

  “His life is that newspaper. I’ve tried to invite him to dinner and social gatherings, but he always turns me down. His life ended when his family died, and he doesn’t have any interest in being happy.”

  Something told me there was more to the story than Dale had told people. I was going to have to do a lot of digging to get the answers I wanted.

  Chapter 5

  Armed with two plates of food, I walked into the police station around 9 p.m. after I got a text from T.J., letting me know they were there. Becky Armstrong, the new night dispatcher, waved at me as I went down the hall to Owen’s office. “Anyone hungry?” I said as I walked in.

  T.J. took the plates from me, and handed one to Owen. “Thanks. I thought I was going to have to raid the vending machines down the hall.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Owen replied. “The chips in there are about two years old.”

  I waited a few minutes while they ate before asking any questions. “So, did you find out anything about our dead guy?
”

  Owen and T.J. looked at each other before Owen answered. “You know, sometimes you are scary.”

  I looked at him, shocked. “What did I do? I just got here!”

  “I’m talking about your instincts when it comes to sensing when things are wrong.”

  I leaned forward. “So Coogan is dirty.”

  “No.”

  “Dale’s dirty.”

  “No!”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Owen! Tell me!”

  “There is no record of an Oliver Coogan anywhere.”

  “No driver’s license, no Social Security number, no criminal record?”

  “Nope, nope, and nope.”

  “Wow. Have you run his fingerprints yet?”

  He shook his head. “I’m waiting on Doc to bring the body back so we can get a clean set of prints. He wanted to check for trace evidence under our dead man’s nails first.”

  “Have you talked to Dale yet?”

  “We went by his house and office before we came here, but he wasn’t at either place,” T.J. said. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Me? Why would I know?”

  “He’s your boss. Surely you know the places he might go to when he’s not working.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Dale doesn’t share his personal life with any of us. Did you try his secretary?”

  “Got the same answer from her that we got from you,” T.J. replied. “For a normally nosy person, you don’t know very much.”

  “There are certain things that you do not ask him about, and his private life is strictly off-limits. He has made it perfectly clear that what he does outside of the office is none of our concern.”

  “Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Owen snorted.

  “Did you check the club?” I shot back. “Every other male in town hangs out there, why should Dale be any different?”

  “Trixie said she hasn’t seen him out there in months,” Owen said.

  “Maybe he went out of town.”

  “For what?”

  I shrugged. “He’s working on a story. Maybe he is chasing down a source.”

  “Then I feel sorry for his source,” Owen said, “considering the last one is dead.”