A Merciful Secret Page 6
Ava sank into one of the two chairs in Eddie’s office and indicated for Mercy to take the other. Her eyes were tired, but she jumped right into her information about Judge Lake.
“The judge was discovered yesterday morning by his housekeeper. She cleans two days a week, starting at ten a.m. His office had tried to contact him when he didn’t show up for work, but no one had considered anything suspicious. When his housekeeper realized he was dead, she backed out of the room and called 911.”
“She didn’t compromise the scene at all?” Eddie asked.
“No. She saw the blood on the bed right away and proceeded into the room with caution. She didn’t touch a thing . . . not even the body, because he was clearly dead. The medical examiner estimates that he was murdered between six p.m. and midnight.”
“Cause of death?” Mercy asked, knowing the answer.
“He bled out,” Ava said grimly. “He had multiple deep lacerations on his abdomen, chest, and neck. The medical examiner said three of the cuts damaged vital arteries and each alone could have killed him.”
“Overkill,” Mercy said.
“An apt description,” said Ava.
“Any evidence?” asked Mercy.
“The front door to his home was left unlocked, and there’s no sign of a break-in. The housekeeper didn’t see anything missing in a cursory look. His wallet with several hundred dollars was on his nightstand, so robbery is low on our list of motivations,” said Ava.
“It sounds personal,” pointed out Mercy. “What about cameras?”
“No cameras. A security system, but not with cameras.”
“You checked to see if any of the neighbors have cameras that might give a view of his property or the street?” asked Eddie.
“Yes. Two had street views and showed eleven vehicles passing by between eight and twelve that night, but none of their plates were caught on camera. We identified which vehicles belong in the neighborhood, but that left four others.” Ava took a breath and went on. “No weapon has been found, and we’re running prints, but so far they’ve all been his or the housekeeper’s.”
“Any family?” Eddie scribbled on his notepad.
“An ex-wife who lives in Bend and two adult sons. Neither are married.” Ava paused. “Gabriel Lake is his son who lives in Portland and Christian Lake lives in Bend.”
Mercy straightened. “Wait a minute. I know Christian.”
Ava’s eyes lit up. “You do?”
“Yes. I worked at the same restaurant as him when I was eighteen . . . he was older, probably twenty-five. Nice guy, totally geeky, and we hit it off. I read he went on to start Lake Ski and Sports sporting goods stores.” She combed her brain for other facts. “I remember he came from a really rich family. The other employees used to tease him about working in a crappy steak house when his father was some big-time lawyer and drove nice cars. I never met or saw the father, Christian was living in his own place by then.”
“He owns Lake Ski and Sports?” Eddie blurted. “That’s the most exclusive sporting goods store in Oregon and Washington. Carries all top-of-the-line gear. The Bend store is fantastic. It has a great rock-climbing wall inside.”
“Did you interview Christian already?” Mercy asked Ava.
“Briefly. I told him I was heading to Bend and wanted to meet with him. Understandably he’s very upset about his father’s death.”
“I’ve been in a few of his stores,” said Mercy. “They’re gigantic.” She frowned. “I thought Christian moved to Portland. I’ve seen pictures of him at Portland-area fund-raisers and read about his support of various causes. He’s been touted as one of Oregon’s most eligible bachelors or some crap like that. But I was always pleased that someone from Eagle’s Nest went on to do something awesome.”
“Yes, he’s single and owns a condo in Portland’s South Waterfront area,” said Ava. “I gathered that he doesn’t use it much. He spends most of his time at his home outside of Bend. It appears to be quite the showpiece.”
“What about the other son?” asked Eddie.
“He heads up a law firm in Lake Oswego outside of Portland. He’s in California right now, but is trying to get back as soon as possible. I’ll meet with him when he gets to town.”
“What do you have so far?” asked Eddie.
“We’re investigating Judge Lake’s court cases, starting with the most recent, looking for anyone who might be out for some revenge. As you can imagine, it’s a giant task. He’s been a district judge for over twenty years.”
“Age?” asked Mercy.
“Sixty-two. Single since the divorce decades ago. His secretary says he hasn’t dated anyone in a few months, but he’s had several relationships in the past few years. We’re also looking at those.” A wry smile crossed her face. “An assistant DA has been identified as one of his past relationships.”
“Ouch,” said Mercy. “Did she try any cases in his court?”
“Luckily, no. But she wasn’t happy to talk to me and begged me to keep her name out of it. She didn’t want the press or her boss getting wind of it.”
“Speaking of press.” Mercy tipped her head toward the window. “I saw you with a reporter in the parking lot.”
Ava’s face brightened. “That’s Michael. He’s a good guy.”
“He approached me when I came in. He’s lucky he didn’t get a face full of pepper spray.” Mercy wasn’t convinced.
“He’s a bit intense, but he’s extremely smart and his intentions are always in the right place. He and Mason go back a few years. There’s a bit of a reluctant bromance there that I don’t understand.” Ava grinned. “I trust Michael implicitly, but I did chew him out for racing to Bend and lying in wait for me.”
“I thought he was waiting for me,” said Mercy. “He questioned me about my morning. I don’t know how he heard I was at the Sabin murder scene.”
“He seems to get information from thin air,” said Ava. “But trust me, you want him on your side.”
Mercy didn’t trust anyone without her own proof. “I’ll consider your recommendation,” she said sourly.
Ava went on. “We’ve pulled the judge’s phone records, his office visitors log, and gone through his social media. No red flags yet, but it’s early. Now tell me about Olivia Sabin. I don’t know how her death is related to the judge’s. So far the only connection is that the judge lived in this area long ago and it appears Olivia was here at the same time. The patterning of the gashes in both deaths is definitely similar. I’m glad your medical examiner had her ears open, otherwise we never would have made the connection.”
Eddie pointed at Mercy. “It’s my case as of five minutes ago; I know nothing. But your primary witness is right here. I was just about to interview her.”
“Start from the beginning,” Ava told Mercy.
For the fourth time that day, Mercy gave her version of events.
It wasn’t any easier after multiple recountings, and her voice cracked at times.
“I’m sorry,” Ava said, her blue eyes sympathetic. “That must have been horrible for you.”
“I won’t forget for a while,” agreed Mercy. I’ll never forget.
Eddie’s cell phone rang. He did a double take at the screen. “It’s Truman. Is he looking for you?” he asked Mercy as he answered the call.
Mercy checked her own phone. No missed calls or texts.
“You’re still seeing the police chief?” Ava whispered loudly, a wide grin on her face.
Mercy rolled her eyes at her nosy friend. “Yes.”
“Nice!” Ava sat back in her chair and nodded in approval.
“You don’t even know him,” Mercy pointed out.
“Oh, you can be certain I looked him up when I heard.” She winked.
Mercy’s face warmed; she was unused to discussing her love life.
“What’d he have to say?” Eddie asked into the phone. He made some more notes on his pad. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Seriously? He sounds like a fruitcake.” He listened
silently for a minute and then ended the call.
Mercy frowned. “Why did Truman call?”
“Well, he believes you’re at home sound asleep, and Jeff told him I caught the Sabin case. Truman met with a local resident today who claims that Olivia Sabin is a witch.”
Both women sighed. “And?” asked Ava.
“The local said to look at the daughter for the murder. He claims their relationship was extremely volatile, but of course he didn’t witness this for himself; it’s all hearsay.” One side of his mouth turned up. “And he swears that everyone knows the daughter was fathered by a demon and her young child by a fairy.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Ava threw up her hands. “Why did Truman talk to this guy?”
“There’s often some truth buried in rumor,” said Mercy. “I can see why the witch story is out there. Some of the things in the home and barn were definitely odd. Who was the source?” she asked Eddie.
He glanced at his pad. “Augustus McGee.”
“Wow. He lowered himself to talk to Truman?” Mercy was pleased that the sovereign citizen had enough trust in Truman to share the information, no matter how crazy it sounded. The relatively new police chief was winning over more people than he realized in his little town. As an outsider, Truman had struggled for acceptance from the locals even though he’d spent several summers in Eagle’s Nest while growing up.
“Augustus claims he had a fling with Olivia decades ago.”
“Well, that makes him a star witness,” muttered Ava. “Who is this daughter of a demon?”
“Salome Sabin,” said Mercy. “I told you her daughter, Morrigan, said she’d been gone for a few days.”
“Right.” Ava wrote something on her notepad. “Interesting name. What have you done to try to find her?”
Mercy looked to Eddie, who said, “I’ll check with Detective Evan Bolton at county and see what his investigation has turned up. And let him know he now has us as a federal partner on the case.”
“If she’s missing, is it possible Salome could have been in Portland when the judge was murdered?” Ava asked.
Mercy sucked in her breath as she followed her friend’s train of thought. “She could be in Cancún for all we know. All we can say is that she wasn’t at the house when I was there.”
“Well, let’s find out,” stated Ava. “Introduce me to the county detective so we can get this case rolling.”
EIGHT
Two hours later Mercy dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment. It was seven o’clock and her body achingly nagged about every single hour of sleep she had missed. She’d lowered her vehicle’s window on the drive home, using the icy breeze to keep her awake. The shock of the freezing air had cleared the cobwebs out of her brain for the drive, but they were quickly returning.
Sliding her key into the lock, she heard laughter inside. The sound of Rose’s voice warmed her heart, and she thrust the door open, ready to see her sister who’d been blind since birth. She was greeted by heavenly scents of toasted coconut, chocolate, and vanilla. And a messy kitchen. Her niece Kaylie had every baking appliance, measuring cup, and mixing bowl out on the counter, and the room was warm and welcoming from the heat of a busy oven.
“Mercy!” Rose had been facing the door as she entered, no doubt having recognized Mercy’s steps on the stairs. Mercy hugged her sister and planted a kiss on her soft cheek, her lips feeling the faint groove of a fading scar from when Rose had been kidnapped and a killer had viciously sliced up her face.
“What are the two of you doing?” Mercy asked, aware the obvious answer was, “Baking.”
“Kaylie asked me for Mom’s coconut cake recipe. She said Mom refused to share it.”
“She’s protected that recipe as long as I can remember,” said Mercy. “She claims we’ll find it in a safe-deposit box when she dies.”
“Well, I’ve watched her enough to know what was in it,” said Rose, with a grin at her word choice. “I’m a little fuzzy on the measurements, but Kaylie is guesstimating. So far the first two haven’t been quite right.”
“Mmmm.” Mercy spotted two rejected cakes on the counter, multiple bites missing from each. She found a fork and tasted one. “You’re right. This isn’t quite right.” She tried the second. “This tastes nearly right. Did you add the vanilla pudding mix?”
“Ohhh!” exclaimed Rose, clapping her hands together. “I forgot about that!”
“The mix is the one ingredient I remember,” admitted Mercy. “That and how she insisted on toasting her own fresh coconut.”
“Instant pudding mix?” asked Kaylie skeptically. “The dry stuff in a box?”
“Yes, I don’t have any, but I can buy some tomorrow.”
Kaylie turned up her nose, and its tiny blue piercing sparkled. “I don’t use that sort of thing.” Mercy’s niece was picky about her baking ingredients.
“Then it will never be quite right,” said Rose with an understanding smile. “Do you want to replicate the recipe or come up with your own?”
The teen’s shoulders drooped. “I associate that cake with every special occasion in my life. You bet I want to master it. If I can get it right, I’ll add it to the bakery case at the coffee shop.” She gave Mercy a curious glance. “Do you think Grandma will mind?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” said Mercy. “But Pearl will notice. You’ll have to tell her.” Mercy’s oldest sister ran the Coffee Café, which Kaylie had inherited when her father, Levi, was murdered by the same man who’d attacked Rose.
Kaylie eyed the giant mess on the counters and in the sink. “I guess I’m done for the night if we don’t have the pudding mix. Thanks for your help, Aunt Rose. Do you want me to drive you home now?”
“I’ll take her,” said Mercy, ignoring her exhaustion. “You clean up. Is your homework done?”
“Yes, Mom.”
It was said in jest, but Mercy liked the title. In the four months since she’d met her niece, Kaylie had become the closest thing to a daughter she’d ever had. Levi’s dying plea had been for Mercy to raise his daughter, who’d been abandoned by her mother when she was an infant.
It had been a steep learning curve to raise a teenager, but Mercy believed she’d done pretty darn well so far. Kaylie wasn’t missing any limbs, nothing new had been pierced, and her last report card had been all As. Mercy approved of her boyfriend, Cade, although Kaylie recently admitted some of the shiny excitement of the relationship had faded. Cade’s new construction job was at a housing development nearly an hour away. Making time to see each other had become work.
Welcome to real life. It’s not like the movies.
Mercy placed Rose’s hand on her arm and guided her to the door, noticing that Rose’s pregnancy had finally started to show. The bump was small, but for four months her beautiful face had been enhanced with a pregnancy glow. Their sister, Pearl, complained that her pregnancies had given her acne, not a glow.
“I’ll be back in about forty minutes,” she told Kaylie. Rose tapped the door frame with her cane and they moved to the top of the familiar outdoor stairs, which she took as confidently as Mercy.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Rose as Mercy led her to her vehicle.
“Thanks for entertaining Kaylie.”
“I adore her,” said her sister. “She reminds me a lot of you at that age.”
Mercy took that as a compliment. “She looks like me too.”
“I heard you’ve had a long day,” Rose said.
Mercy gave her a brief account of her day as they drove toward the farm where Rose lived with their parents.
“Olivia Sabin,” Rose murmured to herself. “I can’t quite place the name. It sounds familiar.”
“She has a daughter named Salome who we haven’t found yet.”
“Salome?”
“Know her?”
“I know of her . . . by reputation only.”
Mercy sighed. “Don’t tell me you heard she’s a witch fathered by a demon.”
Rose rarely swore.
“What else did you hear?”
“Mostly a lot of suspicious muttering. I know people in town used to go to Olivia and now to Salome for help with their love lives or health. People may whisper that they’re witches, but they visit them first when they want help.”
“What kind of help do they give?”
“Well, Melissa Johnson showed me a sachet she’d bought from Salome with instructions to put it under her pillow for two weeks. I smelled mint, rosemary, and basil in it. The sachet was to catch the attention of a certain young man.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes and no. The guy Melissa had her eye on never came around, but she started dating his best friend during those two weeks. They’re still together, so in a way it worked.”
“Hmmm.” Mercy wasn’t sure what to think of that. “A confidence builder?”
“Probably.”
“Anything else?”
“Someone went to her for help with an infection in their foot that wouldn’t clear up. I can’t remember who it was . . . An older man. Salome wouldn’t take his money and ordered him to go to the emergency room. I heard he was pretty ticked, but he finally went. They removed two toes.”
“Wow. At least she knows her limitations. Did you know about her daughter, Morrigan?”
“Not until you told me. I’ve heard men brag about sleeping with Salome. They viewed it as an accomplishment—almost like a dare—but I never heard that she was pregnant.”
“Did you hear that she fought with Olivia?”
“No. People always grouped them together when gossiping, though. Said Salome was exactly like her mother.”
“Not a compliment?”
“No. Is she really a suspect in her mother’s death?”