1 Murder on Sugar Creek Read online

  She did regret contacting him and decided to ask the receptionist seated behind the bulletproof glass to tell Seth she had another appointment. As Maggie collected her purse and rose from her chair, the door opened and Seth suddenly stood in front of her.

  “Hey, come on in,” he said. Before Maggie could protest, she was following him down the hallway. “Your call came as a surprise to me. It was a good surprise, though.”

  When they reached his office, he directed her to a chair beside his desk and offered her water. “I would ask if you want coffee, but I know the answer.”

  Despite her nervousness, Maggie smiled and said, “Water is fine.”

  “Be right back,” he said.

  Sitting in his office reminded Maggie of their first meeting eight years earlier. She had come to the police station in early December that year to talk to the police chief for a story she was writing about the department’s Shop with a Cop program. The chief had, in turn, invited several officers to share heartwarming anecdotes regarding the low-income children who had received Christmas presents in the past. Seth, a patrol officer at the time, was the youngest man in the room and the first one Maggie noticed. She considered him good looking enough and appreciated the freckles that dotted his face and hands. She also approved of his grammar. Unlike his fellow officers, he didn’t say “I seen” or “have went.” But it wasn’t until he smiled that Maggie felt an attraction to him. When he offered his crooked smile, she blushed. She had considered her behavior unprofessional and she chastised herself for acting like a teenager. But whatever she had felt had been mutual. Seth called her later at work on the pretense of making sure she had gotten all the information she needed. He asked her out during that conversation, thus beginning Maggie’s longest and most serious relationship.

  Seth returned to his office with a bottle of water and took his place behind the desk.

  “On the phone, you said you needed advice. I’ll help any way I can, but I can’t imagine that you would run afoul of the law.”

  Maggie twisted the cap off the bottle. “No, it’s about the Mac Honaker murder.”

  Seth leaned forward in his chair. “That case belongs to the state police, but if you know something –”

  “No,” Maggie said. “I know the suspect. He was a childhood friend of Mark’s.”

  “Oh, how is Mark?” Seth sat back in the chair.

  “He’s good. He has two little boys now. They’re one and three.”

  “That’s great, Aunt Maggie. I bet you don’t spoil them at all.”

  Oh, Maggie thought to herself, why does he still have that smile? “Not at all. Of course, I don’t get to see them as much as I want, but Mark told me last night that he and his wife are planning to come in for Thanksgiving. But don’t tell Mom. They don’t want to get her hopes up in case their plans fall through.”

  “I’ll make sure I don’t spill the beans to Lena during our weekly card game,” Seth teased. “Speaking of Lena, how are your parents?”

  “They’re good, too,” Maggie answered. “Yours?”

  Seth frowned. “Mom’s been sick, but Dad is as ornery as ever.”

  “I hate to hear that about your mom. Is she doing better?”

  “Yeah, but it’s hard to see your parents grow old and get sick. You doing okay?”

  “Yeah,” she answered. “You?”

  “Eh, life is full of ups and downs. When you think you have everything figured out,” he sighed, “you realize you never knew anything. At this point, I’d consider it a success if I could lose some of this gut,” Seth said as he patted his stomach. “I need to get back to the gym, but between work and helping out with mom and, well, life, I’ve let myself go a bit.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad. I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out,” Maggie lied. Although he was far from being considered overweight, as soon as he had materialized in the lobby, Maggie noticed he had packed on a few pounds to his medium frame. “But I know where you’re coming from. If I don’t lose the weight I’ve gained during these past few months, Daddy will have to saw off the sides of the doors and roll me out of the house.”

  “Uh, no,” Seth said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Maggie clutched her purse to her body and allowed an appropriate amount of time to lapse before launching into her doubts about Kevin’s guilt and giving a summary of their phone call.

  “I know you enjoy true crime books and TV programs, so I don’t need to tell you they record all the inmates’ phone calls, even in a place like Jasper.”

  “I figured they did, but I have nothing to hide.”

  Seth nodded. “So, why do you think this guy’s innocent?”

  “I’m not saying he is innocent, but I’m keeping an open mind. After all, the evidence isn’t there.”

  “Eh. People have been convicted with less. He paid off his drug dealer minutes after the murder –”

  “Alleged drug dealer and that could have been a coincidence. Besides, it proves nothing.”

  “Not by itself. But what about the gun and the gunpowder residue on his hands?”

  “He said he shot at a coyote that was sniffing around the chicken pens. We’ll have to wait on the ballistics report to find out if his dad’s gun fired the shots that killed Mac Honaker.”

  “True, but what about his file? He’s been arrested a couple dozen times for robbery.”

  “That’s right, for robbery. I checked his record. He’s never been arrested for a violent crime. And none of those robberies were committed with a weapon. Where’s the escalation?”

  “Escalation?” Seth smiled. “Maggie, this is not TV.”

  “I realize that, Seth, but in those true crime books I read and on the true crime TV shows I watch, the real-life cops talk about escalation. Criminals have an m.o. and they don’t graduate from swiping lawn decorations to murder overnight.”

  “Some do.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t have those statistics in front of me.” Seth’s eyes wandered to a stack of papers on his desk. When he returned his gaze to her, he asked, “Maggie, what are you hoping to accomplish with this visit?”

  Seth’s question confused her. “I thought I made myself clear. I want to know what you think about this case.”

  “Why? Regardless of whether I think Kevin Mullins is guilty or not, what do you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that he asked for my help –”

  “To clear him? And how do you plan to do that? Are you prepared to scour Sugar Creek for clues armed with nothing but a magnifying glass and a pair of binoculars?”

  “Don’t condescend to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Seth ran his hands through his closely-cropped sandy hair, which Maggie noticed had receded since she had last seen him. “Listen, Maggie, you came here for advice, so here it is. Let the investigation run its course. You’re right about the ballistics report. That will tell the tale. Meanwhile, it’s not like Kevin is a stranger to a jail cell. A few days in there might do him some good.”

  Maggie recognized rational statements when she heard them. Still, she added, “I hate to think an innocent man – and one who asked for my help by the way – is being wrongly accused. I also hate to think that a murderer is getting away with this.”

  “That’s because you’re a good person, Maggie Morgan. Kevin knows that, too. He could be playing on your good nature. Drug addicts are experts at manipulating people. That’s something else you need to keep in mind.”

  “I guess you have a point,” Maggie admitted with reluctance.

  “Good,” Seth clasped his hands together and leaned toward her, “promise me you’ll leave this alone. Promise me you will not investigate this on your own.”

  “Who said I was going to do that?”

  “Maggie.”

  Seth’s olive eyes scrutinized her with an intensity that, in the past, Maggie had referred to as his interrogation stare. The expression hadn’t
always been successful in winning her over to his side, but this time she considered his request and reluctantly agreed, “I’ll leave it alone. I promise.”

  When Maggie left the police station, she checked her phone and saw she had missed a text from Edie that read, “Call me. I have news about the murder.”

  Chapter Five

  Maggie tried to reach Edie several times that afternoon, but to no avail. She finally got hold of her that evening as she prepared dinner.

  “What’s going on?” she asked when Edie answered the phone. “What did you find out?”

  “Well, as it turns out, when Ben was in college, he worked at that shoe store Mac Honaker managed. And guess what?”

  Maggie knew she needed to check the parmesan chicken simmering in the oven, but she stopped short of opening the oven door. She didn’t want anything to distract her from the momentous news she was about to receive. “What?”

  “Ben said Mac was fired for embezzlement.”

  “Oh,” Maggie said.

  “I drop this huge clue in your lap and all you can say is, ‘Oh?’”

  “No, no,” Maggie pulled down the oven door, peeked in at the chicken, and decided it could use a little more browning. “I appreciate your news. I just don’t see how it helps.”

  “Because it shows he was a crook. At least he was back in the day. Maybe he made enemies. Enemies who wanted him dead.”

  Maggie closed the oven door and tossed the potholder onto the countertop. “I guess that’s a possibility.”

  “You guess? What’s wrong with you? I thought you wanted to help Mark’s friend.”

  “He and Mark haven’t been friends in years.”

  “What happened to the woman proclaiming the innocence of her brother’s boyhood chicken-raising buddy?”

  “I talked to Seth today.”

  “Ah,” Edie hummed, “and how was Seth?”

  “His mom has been sick and he seemed worried about her, but he was fine.”

  “And how did he talk you into letting this go?”

  “I realized I was being impatient. It will work out in the end, so I promised him I would let the investigation run its course. And I can’t go back on my word.”

  The following evening, Maggie dropped off a bag of groceries at her parents’ house. After chatting with her mom, she walked to the can house where she found her dad filing his toenails with the file from his toolbox.

  “There should be a nail file in that grooming kit I bought you for Father’s Day,” she advised.

  “That puny thing don’t get the job done.”

  Maggie looked at her dad’s overgrown, gnarled toenails. “Maybe I’ll give you a gift certificate for a pedicure next year. Then, again, Christmas is coming up. Why wait?”

  “Did you get me some of those stand-up chips?” Robert asked.

  “Yes, Daddy, I bought you some Pringles.” Maggie studied the Mason cans of garden food that lined the shelves in the cinderblock building. She thought a can of corn salad might provide a tasty snack. “Daddy, did you know Mac Honaker well?”

  “No, not particularly.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  Robert continued to file his hardened toenails as he spoke. “I know his daddy worked for the railroad and his mother was my school teacher. She whipped me once, but I deserved it so I can’t hold hard feelings against her.”

  “Did they have money?”

  Robert rubbed one of his toes. “No more or less than anybody else on Sugar Creek. Why?”

  “They said he built the store with money he inherited from his dad. I know the building is not the size of Walmart, but it’s not a shack, either, and you have to factor in his merchandise and overhead. I was just wondering where his parents got their money.”

  “I guess they did like everybody else and saved it. Mac was an only child, so they didn’t have many mouths to feed and they both worked. I’d say that Mac probably got a loan from the bank. But people will surprise you with what they have and don’t have.” Robert looked at Maggie and grinned, exposing a chipped front denture. “I don’t know if this is true, but I’ve heard Mac wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.”

  “Like how?”

  “He got in some sort of trouble when he was managing that shoe store. And I heard that back when he was selling insurance, some of his clients paid with cash –”

  “They sent cash through the mail?”

  “No. You were young, but you should be able to remember that insurance lady that come to the house to collect the premiums every month.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Maggie picked a can of corn salad off a shelf and selected a can of beets as well. “She always showed up at supper time and Mom wouldn’t let us eat until she left. Mom said it would have been rude to eat with her there, but you said it was rude of her to keep clattering on about nothing while the fried potatoes turned cold and mushy.”

  “That’s right.” Robert shook his head. “I’m glad your mother finally started mailing in those payments. That woman got on my nerves.”

  Maggie couldn’t help but grin. Robert usually displayed an easy-going demeanor and rarely spoke ill of anyone. But he took trading livestock, working in his garden, and eating seriously, and he didn’t like for anything to interfere with those three pursuits. “So, what does this have to do with Mac Honaker?”

  “Oh, your mother told me she heard some money turned up missing.”

  “Money from his clients?”

  “Yeah, I reckon. Now, those are just rumors. If he had done something bad, he would have served time. Right?”

  “Not necessarily,” Maggie said under her breath.

  Robert put the file on the floor, appraised his crude pedicure, and nodded. “Not bad.”

  Maggie took another glance at the toenails and grimaced.

  Edie’s and Robert’s revelations into Mac Honaker’s past bothered Maggie so much that she decided to go back on her word to Seth. Not that she intended to search for additional clues. No, Maggie planned only to pursue facts in the hopes of painting a more detailed picture of Mac. And she elected to use her job as a means to that end. Fortunately for her, it didn’t take much persuasion to convince Joe to go along with her plan.

  “You know, Joe, I was thinking about Mac Honaker’s death and how, after the initial coverage, it’s almost like we’ve forgotten about the victim.”

  “That’s human nature. People pretend that they care about the victim when they’re actually dying, no pun intended, to know who did the deed. Just like everyone says they’re tired of bad news, but they’re not. They’re only tired of it when it concerns the arrest of a loved one or the indictment of an elected official who paved their driveway with taxpayers’ money.”

  “That’s true, but what if we could give them good news and bad news at the same time?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was thinking that I could interview the people who were closest to Mac for a series of columns. Of course, it wouldn’t interfere with Tyler’s coverage of the investigation because it would concentrate on the man instead of his murder.” When Joe didn’t answer, Maggie continued. “Human interest is my forte and I could use my Sugar Creek connections.”

  “Which are?”

  “My dad knows Mac’s cousin, Bug, and both my parents know Dottie, the lady who worked for Mac. If they talk to me, maybe one or both of them could help me talk Mac’s wife into giving an interview. She’s been quiet so far.”

  “Do you have time –”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. It’s a go.”

  Chapter Six

  As Maggie sat in Bug Damron’s living room, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Technically, she had misrepresented the truth to Joe. She prided herself on her honesty and considered a lie by omission as bad as an intentional falsehood. But she reasoned that the ends justified the means. If she wanted to learn the truth about Mac Honaker, then she would need to talk to the people who knew him best. The information they pro
vided might free an innocent man. Besides, she had every intention of gathering intimate anecdotes she would then craft into a series of compelling human interest columns, and Joe certainly would appreciate that.

  “Sorry about that,” Bug apologized when he re-entered the room. “My mommy’s satellite TV receiver ain’t working right. She’s eighty-six and never misses a minute of Days of Our Lives. I told her I’d talk to you for a few and then head over there and check her TV before her show comes on.”

  “This shouldn’t take long.” Once Bug settled into his oversized recliner, Maggie said, “So, tell me about Mac.”

  Bug’s eyes watered as he reminisced about his murdered cousin. A couple times, Maggie encouraged him to take a minute before continuing.

  “You know, Mac was a good seven or eight years younger than me,” Bug explained. “We wasn’t even first cousins. Our mommies was first cousins and Mac and me didn’t exactly grow up together. But my wife died twenty-two years ago,” Bug trailed off and wiped away a tear. “She was just shy of her 40th birthday. We didn’t have no children. I still had my mommy and daddy and other family, but it’s like the life left me when she died. I just holed up here in this house. When I wasn’t at work, I was sitting right here. I wouldn’t even turn on the TV.

  “Well, Mac showed up one day with tickets to a UK football game. I was never much of a football fan. I’ve always been more interested in basketball, but it didn’t matter cause I didn’t feel like going nowhere. Well, you know how it is. He told me he didn’t have nobody to go with him and he didn’t want to go alone. If I wouldn’t go, he wouldn’t go. He’d lose his tickets and a chance to watch the Cats play. I realized later that he just told me a story, that he could have found somebody else to go with him. I went, though, and, after that, we started running around together. We’d go to ball games or to the races or fishing or just sit around and shoot the breeze. Mac got me started living again.” Bug blew his nose. “I’m sorry about this. I’ve always been an emotional man. I don’t think there’s any shame in a man crying.”