Kill Jill (7 page)

“Unless the shooter used a silencer.”

He points to the road and says, “We can tell that much to Sheriff Cox, I reckon.”

Emma looks up, sees the flashing lights of Sheriff Cox’s cruiser turning onto Leeds Road from the highway.

Assuming there are no suspects to apprehend, or victims needing medical assistance, the police procedures manual says the first arriving officer at a possible homicide should call for backup, protect the crime scene, and document all observations. Specific personnel should be contacted as soon as possible, including immediate supervisor, crime scene investigator, evidence technicians, homicide detective, coroner, and enough patrolmen to properly secure and manage the crime scene, interview witnesses, and canvass the area.

Since Sheriff Cox has but three deputies, two of which are on vacation, he’s clearly in over his head. He calls those he can reach, and presses Emma, Harlan, and the rest of the neighbors into service, including Abbie Rhodes, who keeps insisting Emma’s breasts are responsible for her husband’s death. Even after being told Darryl was shot with a high-powered rifle.

“Aren’t you gonna arrest her, Sheriff?” Abbie asks.

“Did you see Emma Wilson holding a high-powered rifle?” Sheriff Cox asks. “Or any rifle at all?”

“No. But that don’t change the fact that one minute she’s standin’ there showin’ her boobs, and the next minute Darryl’s dead.”

“I can’t have this discussion right now.”

“
Don’t look at her tits
!” Abbie shouts to anyone who’ll listen.

More than an hour passes before the proper personnel show up from neighboring cities and towns, and by then half the citizens of Willow Lake have descended on the crime scene, each with a theory and suspect firmly in mind.

But the only theory that sounds credible to Sheriff Cox is the one proposed by Ellwood Fillmore.

Sheriff Cox takes notes while questioning him. “You’re saying Emma’s cab driver threatened your parents at the grocery store yesterday morning? Then grabbed you by the ear and threatened you with bodily harm?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You remember his exact words?” Sheriff Cox says.

“He said, ‘Normally I’d go ahead and kill you.’ Then he said, ‘As long as I’m in a position to keep Emma safe, I will.’”

Sheriff Cox finds Emma and says, “Tell me about your cab driver. And don’t leave anything out, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

He removes the pen and notebook from his pocket and says, “Start with his name.”

“Frank Sturgiss.”

“And where’s he from?”

“Memphis.”

“We’re a long way from Memphis.”

“Do you expect me to confirm that?”

He sighs. “Nothing’s easy with you, is it, Emma?”

“No. And don’t forget it, Sheriff.”

He takes a deep breath, then says, “How long have you known Mr. Sturgiss?”

“I met him two nights ago at the Memphis airport. He was the next cab in line.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Darn.”

“Why would a cab driver you barely know feel protective enough to threaten Ellwood Fillmore for parking near your house?”

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you ask
him
?”

“You got his phone number?”

“I do.”

Emma goes in the house, comes back with Frank’s business card, hands it to Sheriff Cox.

“I’ll need Jack’s phone number, too.”

“Who?”

“Jack Russell. Your fiancé?”

“Why?”

“A murder has been committed on his property.”

“Right. Hang on a minute.”

She turns, starts heading back to the house.

“Wait!” Sheriff Cox says. “Where are you going?”

“To get Jack’s cell phone number.”

“You’re telling me you don’t know your own fiancé’s cell phone number by heart?”

“Not off-hand. I usually just press a number on speed dial.”

“Uh huh. So what’s
your
cell phone number?”

“I’ll get my phone and tell you.”

“You don’t know your
own
number?”

“It’s a new one. I got it at the mall this morning.”

“What was your old number?”

“This is the first cell phone I’ve ever owned.”

“I thought you said Jack’s number was programmed in your cell phone.”

“I was referring to my girlfriend’s cell phone. She let me use it from time to time.”

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“None of your business.”

“What were you doing in Memphis, Tennessee, two nights ago?”

“Hailing a cab.”

“Besides that.”

“None of your business.”

“Get me Jack’s number. Now!”

Emma leaves to get Jack’s number, and never comes back.

Between the sudden arrival of the evidence-gathering team at the crime scene, the field report from those who searched the hill, crowd-control issues, interviews with possible witnesses, and the arrival of the coroner—it takes Sheriff Cox fifteen minutes to realize Emma hasn’t returned. He and some volunteers search the house and back yard, then he tells them to move the search to the front yard and road, where a hundred townies have gathered. Then he calls in an APB on a cab with Tennessee plates. He knows Emma didn’t kill Darryl, but finds it likely the cab driver did. If so, he either kidnapped her, or she’s run off with him.

At least that’s the working theory.

The evidence team is already in the kitchen, which means Sheriff Cox will need to rope off the house so they can do their job without interruption. He doubts they’ll get much, but the fingerprints and DNA samples might help him determine Emma’s identity, if she’s ever been arrested. If so, who knows
what
they might be able to uncover?

His thoughts are interrupted by the crackling sound from his walkie-talkie. He presses the button and says, “Sheriff Cox.”

“Sheriff? You’ll want to see this before we tag it and send it off to the lab,” Ghostly Edwards says.

“Where are you, Ghostly?”

“Kitchen.”

Sheriff Cox enters, sees Ghostly holding a plastic trash bag.

“What have you found?”

“Bra, knife, pair of panties.”

“Emma Wilson’s bra and panties?”

“Size appears right.”

“And the knife?”

“If I counted correctly, there’s one missing from the drawer.”

He opens the bag.

Sheriff Cox looks inside and says, “That’s a regular knife. Tableware.”

“It is,” Ghostly says. “But who’d throw away a perfectly fine piece of tableware?”

Sheriff adds, “Not to mention a bra and panties.”

“I can answer that part. They’re soiled.”

“Soiled? How?”

“My guess? Semen stains. In copious quantities.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you familiar with the term backflow?”

“Pretend I’m not.”

“When a man ejaculates into a woman’s vagina, less than twenty percent of the sperm swims in the right direction.” He winks, then adds, “Which explains why either you or Mrs. Cox has to sleep on the wet spot every night.”

Sheriff Cox frowns. “How about you give me more point and less commentary?”

Ghostly says, “Ejaculate enters the vagina in a thick, milky consistency. After a few minutes, it liquefies, and starts seeping back out.”

“Meaning?”

“If a woman puts her panties back on after sex, some of the sperm will collect in them. We call it backflow.”

“You think that’s what happened here?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, that’s not what happened here.”

“It’s not?”

“Of
course
not!”

Sheriff frowns again and yells, “Then why the hell did you
tell
me all that?”

“Because backflow typically leaves residual stains, not pools.”

“So?”

“This is too much sperm.
Way
too much!”

“What if it was a big load?”

“That might explain the panties. But the bra?”

“What about it?”

“One of the cups is wet. And has been for more than an hour.”

“You can tell how old the stains are?”

“No. But people have been coming in and out of here for hours, right? I doubt Emma had the time or opportunity to engage in coitus.”

Sheriff Cox removes his hat, runs a hand through his hair, sighs, puts his hat back on and says, “You got a theory?”

Ghostly smiles. “I do.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I believe someone, probably Darryl Rhodes, jacked off on her bra, then used her panties to wipe himself dry.”

“Charming.”

“It’s just a theory.”

“Why didn’t Emma just wash her underwear?”

“I’m betting she wasn’t here when it happened. Probably saw what he’d done to her clothes and was disgusted. Probably came home from jogging, like she said, found Darryl in the house. He came out, Emma—or someone else—shot him.”

“What about Abbie?”

“Maybe she was in the house with him.”

“And the knife?”

“My guess is she went into the house after Abbie ran down the street. She went to the bedroom to gather her things to make a run for it, saw the underwear on the floor, used a knife to carry her bra and panties so she wouldn’t have to touch them.”

“Then put them in the trash bag?”

“That’s my guess.”

Sheriff Cox says, “Unless the knife was already in the bedroom, which I doubt, she’d have to make a trip to the kitchen to get it. Then back to the bedroom. Then back to the kitchen to toss it out. Then back to the bedroom to gather her things.”

“So?”

“You think she’d take the time to do all that with Abbie running down the road, screaming? Wouldn’t she just leave the bra and panties where she found them?”

“She’s a woman.”

“So?”

“Some women don’t want to leave a mess behind. Even if it means getting caught.”

Sheriff Cox frowns for the third time since beginning the discussion with Ghostly. “You know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“I think you’re right about Darryl, and the bra and panties. Except I think Darryl came here to discuss the rumor about Jack and Abbie. He probably told Abbie to stay in the car while he talked to Emma. But Emma was out jogging, so she didn’t answer the door. We’ve got proof someone kicked the back door open, and I expect it was Darryl. He probably searched the house for valuables, found her underwear drawer, and got sidetracked. I expect Abbie got tired of waiting, came in through the back door, saw what her husband had just done. I expect she got the knife from the kitchen, used it to carry the bra and panties to the trash bag. Then they both went out the back door and ran into Emma, who’d just finished her jog.”

“Those TV cop shows have nothing on us,” Ghostly says. Except that on TV, DNA samples come back from the lab before the end of the show. Here it takes three months.”

“Any way you can rush it? This is a murder investigation, after all.”

“Rushing it means three months. But it
has
to be Darryl’s sperm. If not, whose could it possibly be?”

“Actually, I can think of two people. One, Frank Sturgiss, the cab driver.”

“And the other?”

“Jack Russell.”

Down below, in the secret room, Emma listens and waits. She hears endless footsteps walking up and down the hallway, hears pieces of conversations. The last thing she hears before everything goes quiet is Sheriff Cox instructing his deputy to park on the hill and keep an eye out in case Emma, Frank Sturgis, or Jack Russell shows up. She waits a few minutes longer, then focuses her attention on the last thing Jack told her about the secret room…