1 Murder on Sugar Creek (12 page)

Chapter Eighteen

By the end of her work day, Maggie hadn’t
received an answer in response to her email. That’s probably a junk email
account, she said to herself, and I should have known better than to think I’d
get a response. She turned off her computer, walked to her car, and headed
toward Sugar Creek. But when she reached the mouth of Caldonia Road, she didn’t
make the turn. Instead, she continued toward Little Elm Fork.

Kevin and his dad lived about a
mile up the hollow in a log cabin that had blackened with age. When Kevin was a
boy, his mother had run off to Ohio with a much younger man, leaving Kevin’s
dad to raise their two sons by himself. A man known for his dedication to hard
work and clean living, Randy Mullins had watched both his sons turn to drugs
and, as a result, a life of crime. He didn’t uphold his boys, but he didn’t
turn his back on them, either. He and a barking beagle greeted Maggie at the
front door of the cabin.

“Well, hello, there,” Maggie bent
down and presented her hand to the dog. As the beagle sniffed her hand, Maggie
lifted her eyes toward Randy. “I figured you’d be like Daddy and not allow a
dog in the house.”

Randy motioned for her to come
inside. “I did feel that way until a few years ago. But both boys was gone.
Actually, they was both in jail at the time, and it got so lonely.” Randy
patted his leg to get the dog’s attention. “This little feller keeps me
company.”

Maggie had never given Randy
Mullins much thought, but as he bent over to pick up the dog, Maggie considered
him as a man and not as Kevin’s dad or the guy who traded livestock with
Robert. His T-shirt strained to confine the paunch of his belly. When he smiled
at the dog, Maggie noticed a couple missing teeth on one side of his mouth and a
chew of tobacco on the other. Still, he wasn’t a bad looking guy and, although
she felt no attraction to him, when she factored in that he owned his house and
made a decent living as a dozer operator, she decided he would be a catch for
the right kind of woman.

“Do you want something to eat or
drink? I’m making kraut and wieners for supper.”

And he can cook, she thought. “No,
thank you. I was wondering if Kevin was around.”

“Yeah, he went out to bring in some
wood for the stove. It’s supposed to get cold tonight. They said it might
freeze.”

Maggie shivered. “I’ll have to bring
out the flannel sheets.” She heard a noise and saw Kevin carrying a pile of
wood through the back door and across the kitchen.

“You have company,” Randy said to
his son.

“Hey, Kevin,” Maggie said.

Kevin piled the wood up beside the
stove without acknowledging Maggie.

“I’m going to check on the food,”
Randy said. “There’s nothing worse than burnt kraut. Good to see you, Maggie.
Tell Robert I said howdy.”

“Will do.”

Randy carried his beagle into the
kitchen, leaving Maggie and Kevin alone in the living room.

“How have you been, Kevin?”

“About the same. Mark called the
other day.”

“Really? He didn’t mention it.”

“Well, he called. I thought that
was mighty nice of him.” Kevin plopped onto the sofa. “We ain’t seen each other
in a couple years or even talked, but he thought enough to check on me.”

“He’s a good guy. Actually, he’s
the best, and I’m not saying that just because he’s my brother.”

They fell into an uncomfortable
silence with Maggie standing in the middle of the room and Kevin staring at the
stove. When she could no longer take the stillness, Maggie cleared her throat
and asked, “Kevin, where did you get the money you gave Ray Short?”

“Not that again.” Kevin threw up
his hands.

“Yeah, that again. Kevin, I know
you said you sold some weed eaters that you had stolen, but there’s no evidence
of you stealing weed eaters or selling them.”

Kevin stopped shaking his head and looked
at Maggie. “Who told you that?”

“I, I, uh, I can’t reveal my
sources,” Maggie stuttered, “Is it true?”

“Listen,” Kevin spoke in clipped
tones. “I can’t remember exactly where I took those weed eaters from or who I
sold them to. I was high. By the way, I’m clean now. I ain’t touched nothing
since this started. I need to keep my head.”

Maggie had noticed a difference in
Kevin the moment she saw him in the kitchen. He no longer seemed to be in a fog
and he had gained some much-needed weight. “Good for you, Kevin. It’s important
that you maintain your sobriety. Keeping a clear mind will help you remember details
like where you got the weed eaters. It’s as simple as this, if you can’t prove
how you got that money, it’s going to look bad for you. They’ll assume you
stole it from Mac Honaker right after you killed him.”

“I ain’t lying.”

But Maggie
couldn’t shake the feeling that Kevin was lying. She also couldn’t help but
notice that he hadn’t asked her to have a seat.

When Maggie’s eyes flew open at two
o’clock the next morning, thoughts of her lunchtime conversation with Luke and the
previous evening at the Mullins cabin swirled in her mind. She knew it would be
useless to try and sleep, so she got out of bed and stepped over Barnaby, who
had grown accustomed to sleeping in her room. Her movements awakened the dog, but
other than momentarily raising his head, he showed no interest in her early
morning activity and soon fell back to sleep. Maggie walked to the kitchen,
poured herself a glass of milk, and huddled underneath the blanket she kept on
the couch.

With only the light from the
hallway as illumination, she admitted an embarrassing truth to herself – it
bothered her that Kevin hadn’t offered her a chair. Maggie was not a stickler
for etiquette and wasn’t offended on behalf of Miss Manners. If not for the
lengths she had taken to prove Kevin’s innocence, she doubted she would have
noticed his incivility. Although Kevin didn’t know the scope of her
investigation, he had a general idea. If nothing else, he knew she had talked
to three of the people who knew Mac best. Yet, when she showed up to his house,
he pouted and lied to her.

And what about that lie? She
conceded that Kevin could have obtained the money irrespective of Mac. But why
remain so secretive? If he had gotten the money through illegal means, then why
lie? After all, he had no problem admitting to stealing those invisible weed
eaters.

Maggie downed the last of the milk
and also admitted a harsh truth to herself – she was beginning to think Kevin
had killed Mac. Her search for the truth had produced nothing but gossip. So
what if Mac had embezzled money from employers? His father had made restitution
to the wronged parties. So what if his wife had misrepresented the success of
her company? No one wants to admit failure. So what if Bug and Dottie couldn’t
agree on the use of security cameras? People forget or misremember. So what if
Rhonda had never forgiven Mac for cheating on her? If she was that upset, she
wouldn’t have waited thirty years to exact her revenge.

As for Luke, she had convinced
herself that she hadn’t shared details of her sleuthing with him for the same
reason she had kept the truth from her parents – she didn’t want to cause
unnecessary worry. Now, she doubted herself. She liked Luke and viewed him as
someone with whom she could develop a long-term relationship. He had supported
her the night of Barnaby’s disappearance and had expressed concern for her
well-being. Still, they hadn’t been dating for long and it’s not as if he would
develop a peptic ulcer if he knew what she was up to.

Maggie looked at the clock. It was
almost three. She rinsed her glass in the kitchen sink and returned to bed. As
she drifted back to sleep, she admitted one more truth to herself – Kevin had
means, motive, and opportunity.

Chapter Nineteen

Maggie arrived at work the next day
sleepy and in no mood for Tyler’s insults. When one of the advertising sales
ladies asked for directions to a locale out in the county, Maggie said, “I
don’t care to help you. What’s the address?”

Before she could answer, Tyler snorted and said to the salesperson, “She said she didn’t care to help you, so I
would ask somebody else.”

Maggie eyed Tyler. “It’s an
expression of speech. You might say, ‘I don’t mind to help you,’ while around
here, we say, ‘I don’t care to help you.’”

“It’s not the same. I don’t care
means –”

Maggie cut off Tyler and again
asked the advertising rep, “What’s the address?”

“It’s 1081 Dry Lick Road.”

“Then it’s a little more than a
mile up Dry Lick,” Maggie said.

“Really? That’s what those numbers
mean?” she asked.

“Yeah, our addresses are based on a
mapping system.”

Before the sales rep could respond,
Tyler once more insinuated himself into the conversation. “I highly doubt that.”

Maggie swiveled her chair around so
she could face Tyler. “That’s exactly what those numbers mean. Watch your
odometer some time.”

Tyler snickered. “I don’t need to
watch anything. No one around here is smart enough to have come up with such a clever
mapping system.”

“I didn’t say we invented the
system, Tyler, but we use it. We didn’t invent electricity, either, but look
around.” Maggie extended her arms, “There are lights everywhere. Don’t you ever
get tired of putting us down? And don’t you realize how rude it is to
constantly tell everyone that they’re stupid and uncouth? You’re the one who’s
uncivilized, Tyler, because civil people realize it’s rude to go to someone’s
house and insult the curtains. And that’s what you do. You’ve come to our home
and insulted everything we do or say.” After speaking her mind, Maggie turned in
the chair and said to the sales lady, “Just watch your odometer and you’ll know
when you’ve driven a mile. Then, you’ll need to check for the house numbers,
which will be displayed on the house or on the mail box. They have to display
them.” She indulged in one more glance at Tyler, “It’s the law. We have those,
too.”

Tyler ran his
hands across his reddening face and continued to look at Maggie, who turned her
attention to formatting a news release. Before she could become engrossed in
her work, she received two emails. One, from someone in the composing
department, read, “Good job. Somebody needed to put the jerk in his place.” The
other read, “Yes, I worked with Mac.”

Maggie repeatedly read the five
words and wrestled with an internal demon. Less than twelve hours earlier, she
had admitted that the investigation was going nowhere and acknowledged Kevin’s
probable guilt. Now, she faced a possible lead. She took a walk around the
press room to clear her head, but with little success. Three other co-workers
stopped her and extended congratulations on giving Tyler a piece of her mind.
Maggie accepted their words with a half-smile. When she returned to her desk,
she again read the email.

“I have to do this,” she mumbled.
“I’ve come this far.”

She clicked on
reply, wrote, “Would you be willing to meet me?” and hit send.

After enjoying lunch at the Chinese
restaurant with Luke, Maggie returned to the office in a better mood. Although
she hadn’t come to terms with her conscious decision to exclude him from the
reality of her investigation, she also acknowledged that seeing him generated an
excitement in her that she hadn’t felt in quite some time. Described by some as
too picky when it came to men, Maggie knew what she liked and she liked Luke.
As she walked into the newsroom, Joe beckoned for her to come to his office. He
could not conceal his happiness.

“I heard about your verbal beat
down of Tyler.”

Maggie slumped against the door.
“It was not a beat down. Believe me, it doesn’t even compare to your melee with
him from a couple weeks ago, so I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal.”

“Perhaps because it came from a
nice person such as yourself and because, unlike me, you retained your
composure. Or so I’ve been told.”

“It won’t do any good. I’m sure
he’ll be making fun of our place names or our obesity rates or our vernacular by
deadline. Heck, maybe he’ll treat us to a trifecta of scorn.”

Joe agreed with her prediction and
Maggie went to her desk. After unlocking her computer, she instinctively
checked her email and found three new messages including one that read, “I’ll
meet you, but off the record. Nothing I say can make its way into the
newspaper.”

Maggie couldn’t believe the mystery
messenger had responded so quickly. Hoping the person was still online, Maggie
composed another message. “When can you meet me?”

She hadn’t allowed herself to hope
this would lead to anything, but now she felt the optimism developing in her
chest. She couldn’t focus on her work. She could do nothing but watch her email
for updates. After wasting minutes staring at the screen, she began typing a
letter to the editor for Joe. All things considered, Maggie found the letter to
be well-written and lucid. But it had been typed in all caps on an old
typewriter with a missing letter O. Or maybe, she thought to herself, the
author doesn’t know the difference between zero and O. Just as she finished the
letter, a message popped up in the lower right-hand corner of her screen. Before
she could click on it, Tyler appeared at her desk.

“Maggie, I want to thank you for
educating me on the county’s mapping system.”

“What?” a disbelieving Maggie
asked.

“You know, earlier, when we were
talking about directions. I wanted to thank you. Now, maybe I won’t get lost so
often.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome, Tyler. Any time.”

“As the saying goes, we learn
something every day.”

Tyler took his seat and Maggie wondered
if he planned to thank her for educating him on his rudeness. But as soon as
she read the message, Tyler disappeared from her thoughts. “I’ll meet you
tomorrow in the Jasper library at noon. I know what you look like. I’ll find
you.”