Keyed in Murder

  HELEN GRAY

  Keyed

  in

  Murder

  KEYED IN MURDER

  Copyright @ 2018 by Helen Gray

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any reviews, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Any references to historical figures, places, or events, whether fictional or actual, is a fictional representation.

  Cover by Cynthia Hickey

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34 (NIV)

  Chapter 1

  The scream of sirens broke the tranquility of the beautiful second day of October afternoon. Toni Donovan and her teenage students all stopped what they were doing and faced the direction from which the sounds came, listening so intently that Toni imagined she could hear ear drums expanding in an effort to determine the route of the emergency vehicles.

  “It sounds like police cars,” one student said.

  “I think there’s also an ambulance,” another said.

  It was seventh period, the last hour of the school day, and the forensics class was spending it in their body farm across the road from the east section of the school building. The area was enclosed by a wooden fence at the edge of the wooded hillside where the trees had barely begun to turn from summer green to fall colors. This was where they studied the decomposition process of animals that students placed here, the current project being to determine whether chickens decomposed at the same, or different, rates when suspended in the air or left on the ground. It was dirty work and didn’t smell nice, but such studies contributed to the development of techniques for extracting information such as the timing and circumstances of death from human remains.

  When they couldn’t determine anything from the sounds, the students began to pull out their phones and check for emails and Facebook postings. Curious, Toni checked her own. She didn’t find anything, but knew the local newspaper reporter would get to the scene rapidly and do an online article. Such was life in a small town. As soon as one person knew why emergency vehicles had been summoned, they would put out the word—and it would spread like wildfire.

  “Okay, let’s clean up around here and get back to the classroom,” she instructed, placing her own tools in the large metal chest next to the fence that they used for storage.

  The hundred foot trek down the hill in the seventy degree temperature was pleasant, too pleasant to want to be indoors. But they didn’t have to be there long. Within five minutes of entering the classroom, the students had gathered their personal belongings and been dismissed.

  As soon as Toni returned to the room from monitoring the emptying of the hall, she changed from the tennis shoes she wore for hiking to the body farm into the navy pumps that matched her blue pant suit. Then she scooted onto her desk chair, booted her computer, and looked up the local newspaper’s web site. She pushed wisps of hair behind her ears and leaned forward to read. A single paragraph had been posted saying that a local resident had discovered the body of Jake Crawford.

  Toni inhaled a deep breath of shock. Jake owned and operated the local supermarket where she shopped regularly. He knew many of her favorite products and stocked three or four items especially for her during the times of year that she needed them for classroom labs.

  “Are you coming, Mom?”

  Startled, she whirled around in the chair as her two sons entered the room. Gabe was thirteen and had just started eighth grade this fall. Garret was two years younger and in the sixth grade. They attended classes in other sections of the big building where the middle school and junior high were located, and usually met her in the front lobby. But sometimes they came to her room and went next door to visit and mooch popsicles from her fellow science teacher, John Zachary.

  Toni had begun teaching in her home town district right after finishing her degree, and at thirty-seven years old was in her thirteenth year. Although seven years her senior, John had only been teaching a couple of years longer than Toni. He had earned a PhD in dentistry, hated the work, spent time in some menial jobs, then earned his teacher certification and returned to his home town to teach. He taught the physical sciences, and Toni had the life science classes.

  “We can leave as soon as I get this shut down,” she said in answer to Gabe’s question, turning back to the computer.

  “Were you finding out what those sirens were about?” he asked, having moved closer to the desk to peer over her shoulder, inquisitive as always. Her family members would say he came by it honestly, having nicknamed her Quizzy as a child because she was so curious and full of questions.

  Toni stood and grabbed her purse and book bag. Then she faced him and spoke frankly. “Someone found Mr. Crawford dead. I don’t know any more than that,” she added before he could ask who found him, if he had been killed, and a whole string of questions.

  “That’s too bad,” Gabe said in quiet seriousness, backing away. “He worked hard. I saw him doing all kinds of work when we were in the store, or even on the parking lot. He also did things he paid others to do.”

  Did he do that to get by with fewer employees?

  Toni shook her head as the uninvited thought flashed through her mind.

  While driving along the highway, she paid no attention to the boys’ quiet chatter in the back seat, but nearly wretched at the stench that suddenly filled the van. She lowered the passenger door window. When they arrived at home, a ranch house in a newer subdivision, Toni exited the van as quickly as possible and pointed a finger at the two boys who had just hopped to the garage floor from the back seat. “You two get in there and shower. Now!”

  Toni hurried on inside the house through the garage, not looking back at her offspring following her. She clamped her mouth in a grim line and set about fixing supper.

  She was setting a broccoli casserole on an iron trivet on the table when Kyle entered the kitchen from the garage and dropped a peck on her forehead.

  “Wait,” she called as he continued on to the living room with his briefcase.

  He stopped and looked back at her. “What?”

  “Your sons are stinkers,” she said, putting emphasis on whose boys they were.

  His eyes narrowed. “There’s steam coming from your ears. What did they do?”

  Toni scowled. “They stunk up the inside of the van so bad it almost killed me.”

  He went totally still, weighing her statement. “Are you speaking metaphorically or literally?’

  “I’m speaking bluntly. Coming home today, they both sat in the back seat, which should have warned me of mischief.” They normally took turns riding in the front and back seats. “I heard them whispering,
but I was tired, had a lot on my mind, and didn’t think anything about it—until the smell hit.”

  Kyle shifted around to more fully face her, puzzled. “So they made a stink.”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “I don’t know what made such a stench. I was too sick at my stomach to find out. But I heard one of them declare it was a tie, so it had to be one of their silly contests. They’re in the shower now. They’re your sons, so you need to make it clear to them that if they make a stink that kills their mother, they’ll have to walk to and from school.”

  He ran a hand over his mouth and chin. “Do you think it was their …uh, bodies?”

  “I don’t think so.” At least she hoped that was not the case.

  He nodded, his mouth moving around in a funny way. “I’ll talk to them.” He turned and continued out of the room, a bit hurriedly she thought.

  Supper was a subdued affair. As soon as it was finished and the kitchen tidy, Toni took her own shower. When she returned to the living room, clad in her nightgown and robe, her three male housemates sat in a row on the sofa.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Gabe said as she plopped into the recliner across from them.

  “Yeah, sorry, Mom,” Garrett echoed his big brother.

  “They’ve promised to not open any more stinky stuff in the van,” Kyle said solemnly.

  “Grandpa promised to take us hunting when deer season comes,” Gabe explained. “And we wanted to be prepared.”

  “Randy’s big brother has all kinds of neat stuff,” Garrett took up the explanation. “And he gets it from Adam and brings it to school. Gabe traded him a fidget spinner for a bottle of deer scent, and I traded a fidgety cube for some skunk scent. We wanted to know what they smell like—and which smells the worst.”

  Toni glared at the rascals. “So why are you sorry?”

  Gabe’s shoulders shook, and he made a snort. “It stinks?”

  “We should have waited until we got home to open the bottles and find out what they smell like. And it might kill you,” Garrett added, and then slapped a hand over his mouth. He burst into giggles.

  “It’s not funny,” Toni said sternly. And then she snickered.

  After a rollicking laugh, she regained her composure and pointed a finger toward their room. “Get out of here.”

  Without argument both boys scrambled off the sofa and made their escape.

  “I did my job,” Kyle said when they were gone. “You kind of blew your end of the deal.” He snorted again.

  Toni shook her head slowly. “They’re incorrigible.”

  “And smart. And funny. And sweet. Your darlings,” he enumerated knowledgeably.

  She left the recliner and scooted onto the sofa beside him. When he placed an arm around her shoulders, she sighed and leaned against him. “You’re right. But they do have a way of getting to me now and then,” she said after several moments.

  “Like when you’re tired and stressed, or have something heavy on your mind?” he said softly next to her ear.

  She turned serious. “Did you hear about Mr. Crawford?”

  He nodded. “Mike’s mother called him, and he told me. It’s too bad. I can’t help but wonder what happened.”

  Mike Jolson was a long-time friend and Kyle’s only employee—besides Toni. Mike was a mechanic and took care of all maintenance. Toni did their book work in addition to teaching fulltime at the local high school.

  Kyle had been working for Heartland Air Transport several years when the company began experiencing financial problems and shifting and cutting personnel. He had been given the choice of a reassignment to another state or resigning. Rather than uproot the family from the town where they had grown up and were content, he had resigned and started his own air charter service. That had been a year ago. The first few months had been financially tight and overall stressful, but it had grown gradually easier with experience, determination, and a measure of success.

  “I’m sure we’ll hear more soon.” Suddenly she became aware of the time and reached for the TV remote. “The news has surely picked up on the story by now.”

  Sure enough, the news report was on, and their local death was the lead story.

  “This afternoon a local resident discovered the body of a Clearmount businessman, Jake Crawford, near his home. Details regarding the man’s death are not available yet, but it is believed that Mr. Crawford had been shot. We’ll bring you more on this story when it’s available.”

  The dark haired reporter was replaced on the screen by the weatherman.

  “Why do these things happen?” Toni questioned sadly. Then she focused on the sandy haired, green eyed man who had been her husband for the past fourteen years, and realized that they had only talked about her issues of the day.

  “How was your day?” she asked, feeling selfish.

  He grinned. “I didn’t stink anyone to death.”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “Get serious, Buddy. Tell me about your trip with that group you were supposed to fly to a meeting this morning.”

  Kyle grimaced. “They were delivered on time, but not without incident.”

  Her stomach clenched. They didn’t need extra—or expensive—problems. “What happened?”

  “The plane experienced an electrical failure. It didn’t affect the engines, because they’re run off magnitors,” he explained quickly when he saw the alarm she couldn’t keep from her expression. “The fuel gauges suddenly read empty, my first alert that something was wrong. The radio and navigation systems had gone out. As soon as I saw a town up ahead, I flew down low and slow, and circled the town’s water tower to read the name on it. When I saw it was Mount Vernon, I located it on the sectional chart and continued by pilotage, using distinctive landmarks on the chart, to reach our destination. I was able to get repairs while the group attended their meeting, and we arrived back here on schedule.”

  Toni heaved a sigh of relief. “I think we’ve had all the excitement,” she made finger quotes around the term, “I can stand. Let’s call it a day.”

  *

  During lunch in the cafeteria the next day, a rumor circulated that an arrest had been made in Jake Crawford’s murder. But no one knew the name of the suspect.

  As Toni and the boys walked across the parking lot that afternoon, she was surprised to recognize Patsy Brower and her daughter, Allison, standing next to her red van, clearly waiting for them. Patsy, the middle school secretary, was a close match to Toni’s five-foot-six inch height and slight build. She also had similar dark, shoulder length hair. Her daughter Allison had been in Toni’s General Biology class last year. There was a younger boy in junior high.

  “We’ll get in the van so you can talk to them,” Gabe said, anticipating an instruction from her to do just that. “And no stinky business,” the brat added mischievously.

  While he and Garrett circled around to the far side of the van, Toni clicked her key to unlock the vehicle and approached the ladies. As she reached them, she saw that Patsy had tears streaming down her face. Allison stood as one frozen, her mouth in a fierce, angry line.

  “What’s wrong?” Toni asked.

  “Will you help us, Toni?” Patsy’s voice was weak and unsteady. A fist went over her mouth.

  “Daddy didn’t do it,” Allison blurted harshly. “They’re crazy to arrest him.”

  Toni looked from one to the other of them, her mind whirling at what they seemed to be saying. She focused on Patsy. “Your husband has been arrested?”

  Patsy nodded, blinking back tears and swiping at her eyes and cheeks with a hand.

  “For what?” Toni asked, sensing what was coming. Norm was a contractor, and one of his major current projects was building an addition onto Jake Crawford’s supermarket.

  “The police say he killed Mr. Crawford,” Allison wailed. “But he didn’t.”

  “Can you help us?” Patsy pleaded, reaching out and gripping Toni’s hands. “We know you’ve been involved in some other cases and helped find the killer. Will you find ou
t who killed Jake so Norm will be cleared?”

  Toni didn’t know how to respond. She squeezed the woman’s hands. Her heart ached for these two, but she felt so inadequate. “Patsy, I don’t know what I can do.”

  “You’ve worked with our Chief of Police. Your dad was a highway patrolman and is a close friend to the chief. You know a lot about police procedures and teach a forensics class. Please help us, Toni. You can do it. I’m begging you.”

  “Please, Mrs. Donovan,” Allison repeated in a strangled whisper.

  Toni couldn’t say no to these ladies, and she couldn’t say yes. “I’m not authorized to do anything. I …”

  “So do it without being authorized,” Allison demanded tearfully. “You can’t let Daddy be sent to prison for something he didn’t do.”

  “You’re good at finding out things on your own,” Patsy added.

  Toni firmed her shoulders. “I can’t promise anything other than I’ll talk to Chief Freeman.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Patsy’s arms encircled Toni and pulled her close. “He’ll listen to you.”

  “He has to,” Allison added, a thread of hope in her voice. She hugged Toni from the opposite side.

  When they released her and left, Toni scooted into the van and sat behind the wheel for several long moments, debating how and when to keep her promise. Finally she turned in the seat to glance at the boys in the back. “Do you guys absolutely need to go straight home?”

  “She wants to go to the police station,” Garrett said on a note of resigned certainty.

  Gabe started to object, but seemed to rethink it, or recall yesterday’s trip home. “Did Mrs. Brower say something to upset you?”

  “She’s the one upset,” Toni explained carefully, not sure how frank to be with them. But why be secretive when the news would be all over town—and school—by morning? “Her husband has been arrested, and she wants me to talk to Buck.”

  “Do the police think he killed Mr. Crawford?” Gabe asked, his eyes rounding in shock beneath a crown of sandy hair. He looked more like Kyle than Toni.