Novella

 

"Missing Niblick"

 

Robert C. Waggoner

 

The Discovery

 

It was women's day at the Old Bandon Golf Links. In addition, it was the Spring Women's Open golf tournament. One thing unique was the requirement you had to live in either Coos or Curry County to play. A local tournament if you will.

The course was designed and built back in 1926 and it remains mostly the same since that time. It's the western most golf links in the USA. It sits along the Pacific Ocean near a sea stack with the name of Face Rock. A creek meanders down the middle of the links. You can leave your sand wedge home as no sand traps are found anywhere, but on the nearby beach. Any old timer will tell you to bring a lot of balls as the narrow holes were cut out of gorse, or Scotch broom, and tall grass.

It was Saturday morning, the 12^th of March, when the first foursome teed off. The four women were regulars at the club. It was only if a heavy rainstorm was happening that the four regular 'dew sweepers' didn't play both Saturday and Sunday. They all refused to play with their husbands, but relented to let the men follow them on the weekends.

Gladys Wainleft was the pseudo leader of the group. She was the most vocal and stood a head taller than the other three women. Betty Flowers was just the opposite of Gladys. She was short, reserved, but could hit the ball straight as a string. Odds were good if you were to bet on a winner and chose her name. Lois Long was of average build, but had a phobia of being the best golfer in the county. She'd taken lesson after lesson, but still couldn't get her handicap down below 10. The last in the foursome was Veronica Stevens. She was the wife of the local attorney and mayor, William Stevens. She changed golf clubs every time a new design came out.

It usually happens only once a year and March is the month when the Bandon beach area ceases to experience the usual on-shore moist air. Nary was a breeze blowing that Saturday morning as Veronica, having won the toss, teed up her ball. A picture perfect backswing and the ball split the fairway. "Nice shot," said Gladys.

Gladys took a few too many practice swings kind of showing off her power. She addressed the ball, another nice backswing and follow through resulted in a high hook that sent her ball across the old broken down wire fence into the gorse. The ball was as good as lost. What few people were around the first tee groaned at her misfortune? She teed another ball and sent it down the middle. Both Betty and Lois went right center and back of Veronica and Gladys.

As the number one tee and club house sits on top of the rise above the creek, it makes the second shot down into the valley below blind. As the number one green sits with its back next to the creek, most golfers lay up short with a lofted iron. And that is exactly what the foursome did was layup, pitch on and putt.

The second hole is straight away with a driver and short iron. All four members pared the second hole. The third hole continues east up the creek. It too is a driver or three wood and a middle iron to a small green.

Number four is a little uphill with a narrow fairway. Most golfers use a long iron and then a short iron to the green. Veronica used a 2 iron off the tee. Approaching her ball, she estimated the distance at around 120 yards and a full 9 iron would be the club of choice.

It was her turn to hit when she discovered that her 9 iron, or Niblick, was missing from her bag. She said, "Where the hell is my 9 iron? Is someone trying to play a joke on me?" All three golfers walked over to see what she was yelling about. Gladys said, "What do you mean you can't find your 9 iron."

"Exactly that. The club is not in my bag. No, I didn't leave it behind us as I haven't used a 9 iron today," she said vociferously. I think one of the men hid the iron from me while my bag sat in the club house."

"We can't wait for you to go back and get it," said Betty. "Just choke down on an eight and punch the shot into the green. You can do it."

As it turned out, Veronica birdied the hole and the others made par. They had to turn back west to play number 5. The tee box was hidden in some popular trees to protect the players from incoming shots to number 4.

Gladys was leading pulling her cart. She turned the corner and saw a person sitting on the bench. That person was alone with both arms stretched across the back. The other women saw the same picture: a woman sitting in the middle of the bench, arms outstretched with an object sticking out of her head. All four golfers stood staring at a person not thirty feet away. She never moved. Gladys moved slowly forward looking at the person. She said, "Her hands are tied to the back of the bench. Another rope looks like is tied around her throat. I think she's dead!" she exclaimed.

"Dead!" all three said at the same time. "

"Yes, and it looks like a golf club is sticking out of the top of her head," said Gladys. They moved closer, but Betty said:

"Not too close as we are probably in a crime scene now."

Veronica started at the grip of the club. She said, "This can't be girls. That club has the same grip as my other clubs. Lord have mercy, could it be that is my missing 9 iron?"

Gladys fished out her cell and rang the local police. In no way shape or form is a police force in a town like Bandon, Oregon, population around two thousand, equipped to handle a murder. Meanwhile, the group behind was catching up with them. Soon the scene would be packed with golfers staring at a body with, what appeared like, a golf club sticking out of the top of her head, a once attractive young woman.

 

Stacy Foreham, policewoman and daughter of the Chief of Police, Raymond Foreham, looked at her watch noting it was closing in on 9 am when she heard the 911 phone ring. Flo Medders, secretary and dispatcher answered it promptly. Stacy without knowing moved closer to the dispatcher's desk. She heard Flo ask who was calling. "I got it," she said, "This is Gladys Wainleft and you're calling from where?" Flo was writing furiously while repeating what she heard. "You're at the Bandon golf course playing in a tournament. You say there's a dead woman on the bench near the 5^th tee box. Is that right?" Again there was rapid note taking that would please a court recorder for speed. "We'll send someone out immediately. Please don't touch anything and keep any onlookers from disturbing the crime scene." She hung up and turned to Stacy and said:

"Gladys Wainleft, you know her, says a dead woman is tied to a bench on the 5^th tee box with a golf club sticking out of her head. Lord have mercy. I can't remember when there was a murder in this small town. Stacy, your father is up in Coos Bay meeting some other police chiefs. You'd best look into this crime. I see Dan Swollow is out cruising. I'll call him and have him pick you up."

Stacy's heart was beginning to race a bit. She'd just graduated from the University of Chicago majoring in criminology. With an education such as that, many wondered why she wasn't working for the FBI or some major city police force. Her stock answer was, 'What is the rush, I'm only 23' so most were satisfied with that response.

Her brain kicked in and she said, "Call OSP in North Bend and alert the homicide detective that we've a probable homicide at the golf course. I'll call you after I've secured the crime scene. Call Dan now please."

In no time Dan Swollow came to an abrupt halt in front of the small police station. He saw Stacy come out carrying a black bag. Dan, single, age 32, had an ache for the chief's daughter. She was every bit the nice looking woman he desired: short blonde hair, perfect body, pure white skin, piercing steely grey eyes and a mouth most guys would die for.

Stacy opened the back door, tossed in the black bag, and opened the front door and got in saying, "To the golf course Dan and make it quick, but no siren, just the lights."

"Yes boss," as he back out and torn off towards the Beach Loop Road.

"Don't patronize me Dan. Let' just do our jobs. It appears we have a dead body at the 5^th hole tee box. If memory serves me correct, there's a golf tournament going on today."

"Yes, my mother is entered as usual. She doesn't hope to win anything, but enjoys the gossip that goes with the event."

"Oh, I forgot to tell Flo to call the chief and inform him of our situation."

"I'll do it. Sit back and enjoy one of the few calm warm days of the coast. I'd like to be down on Agate beach looking for agates than doing police work on such a nice day."

"If what Gladys Wainleft says, this could be the weirdest crime I've heard of. She says a woman is sitting on a bench, arms tied along the back rest, a rope around her neck and, get this, a golf club with the head of the club stuck in the top of her head."

"I can't wait to see this scene if it's true. Can you imagine by now how many golfers have taken pictures of the crime with their cells. I feel sorry for the vics relatives if they see pics on the net," said Dan.

Stacy remained silent as they drove past high priced restaurants showing off the view of the coast. A new development was going in just north of the golf course, she remembered. It was located very close to the number 4 hole clear in the east or back of the links. I wonder if there's a trail from there to the golf course. It was probable that back part had to be close to the crime scene. She came back to the present as they drove into the parking area. Dan had to park right in front as the lot was full of golfers and spectators cars.

When the two police officers walked into the club house, it was pure pandemonium. Dan being the taller of the two spotted the new golf club owner behind the counter.

Andy Southwin and his wife Dorothy were California transplants with a pocket full of Silicon Valley money. They decided that the abandoned nine hole golf course needed refreshed. Some might argue that it might take many years to recoup the investment, but the Southwin's were adamant.

Andy saw the two police officers and wove his way through the crowd to the waiting officers. Both officers introduced themselves and Andy asked them to follow him out back. There they found a golf cart ready to go. He said, "I was there and I can assure you there is a dead woman at the number 5 tee box. I'm doing my best to keep the people calm."

"Do you need some police assistance to help," asked Stacy.

"If I do I'll call your station. Meanwhile, we've cancelled the rest of the day's golf. Let me know if you need my help," said Andy.

"One question sir. That new development just north of the links here, does it come near the number 4 green," asked Stacy.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it does. The road and streets are in, but that is as far as we have progressed at this time. You can drive your car within about 200 feet from the number 4 green," said Andy.

"Dan, I'll be right back. I need my black bag," said Stacy as she hurried to the cruiser for her evidence bag. After retrieving her bag, she found Dan behind the wheel of the electric golf cart. She got in and he drove off down the fairway. Stacy looked around as they drove along the course. She noticed they'd done a lot of work refurbishing the old links course. Stacy saw new wooden bridges across the creek. A lot of the trees along the creek had been removed to open it up a bit. She smiled a little remembering as a kid she and her friends would search for golf balls all along the creek. Most balls had the owners name stenciled on them, but some didn't. They'd sell those to the old owners of the club for some pocket money. The named balls would be returned for a few cents as well.

Dan pointed at the crowd around the 5^th tee box as they sped up number 4 fairway. At the green, they crossed the creek over yet another new wood bridge. Because it was such a nice day for the southern coast, many golfers were sitting on the grass waiting for the police to arrive to glean a tidbit of information.

Stacy at once recognized Gladys Wainleft. She stood out due to her height. It would seem that she and her group had kept the onlookers back away from the victim. They threaded their way to the tee box. Gladys said, "We did our best to keep back the crowd officer. We're the ones that discovered the body. How can we help you?"

"We'll need you and your group's statement of course. Meanwhile we'll tape off the crime scene. After that we wait for the forensic team and homicide detective to arrive. I've no doubt the club has all of your names and addresses. I think you'd be more comfortable sitting in the club house rather than out here. We're going to ask all of you to return to the club house after we take all the names of each person here. By the way, do any of you recognize the victim," asked Stacy.

"I asked around and nobody seems to know who she is. She's rather young I think. Nice clothes on, but we haven't seen any bag nearby, but we haven't looked very hard. Nobody here got within 20 feet of the bench. It's hard to look at her with those eyes staring out at you. It's hard to believe some person could wield a golf club so hard it would pierce the skull," said Gladys.

Stacy and Dan had the scene secure in no time. She told Dan she was going to see if there was a trail from the new complex just above the 4^th green. Both realized it would be some time before the North Bend state police detective arrived. In fact, Stacy wanted to do some detective work on her own. It wasn't that she thought she would solve the homicide, but wanted to use her new found learning.

Making two lines, Stacy and Dan quickly wrote down names and addresses of the onlookers. Then they were sent away; some reluctant to leave knowing they might miss something. Stacy looked at her watch. It was just after 10 am. She took off for the 4^th green and up the slight hill to the new development in progress. At the edge of the back of the green and down the fairway, she looked hard for evidence that might support the idea the vic was forced, carried, drug down the hill to her final resting place on the bench.

A half hour later she found no evidence that a person or person came through the gorse and tall grass to the links. She circled around to arrive at the top of the hill where the development was in progress. It was a tough go fighting her way through the gorse. The streets and other portions of the infrastructure were there, but other than a few cigarette butts, nothing of interest was found. She decided to walk a little further back towards the main road to see if anything out of the ordinary was lying on the ground. She'd went about one block when something caught her eye. It was a black high heel that had broken off a woman shoe. From her back pocket she pulled out a baggie. She very carefully, with two hands, using her fingertips, placed the heel into the open baggie. She zipped it closed, took a marker and put time and place along with the date. She felt rather proud herself, but then realized it was not an obscure find at all.

Before she went back down the hill, she glanced at the distance club house and entrance road to the new development. She saw a white SUV roaring towards her. It had blue and red lights flashing to notify anyone looking that a VIP was approaching. Stacy waited for the vehicle. When it roared up and stopped, the driver jumped out looking very stern and also looking very important. He looked hard at Stacy running his beady eyes from head to foot. He took three strides and after he stared at her name tag, along with a leering look at her breasts, said: Officer Foreham I'm Rory Caltex and this guy is my partner Ben Razor. I'm wondering officer, why you're not with the body protecting the crime scene instead of up here disturbing what evidence we might find."

"Well, Rory Caltex, my partner is with the body and if my walking has contaminated the evidence on this development, I wonder what a SUV might do to obscure even more evidence," she fired back at him. Stacy didn't need any help to figure out this egotistical, conceited detective. His height was intimidating, as he was at least six-four and fairly stout at around 220 pounds. However, Stacy had spent the last few years fighting off assholes like this guy.

Rory said, "Okay, introductions out of the way, where is the trail down to the body?"

Stacy looked his attire over and inwardly smiled. He wore Dockers, open polo shirt with a sport coat with patches on the elbows. He looked more like a college professor than a police detective. She also wondered how his penny loafers were going to fare the trip through the gorse. She said, "Follow me detectives."

She led them around the way she had come up the hill. Once again she smiled as she heard grumbling going on behind her. At the 4^th green, both detectives came alongside of her. Stacy was hard pressed to keep up with the two taller detectives. However, she was in shape so a quick pace didn't leave her out of breath as they met Dan standing with his arms crossed in front of the crime scene tape. Dan, Rory and Bed shook hands warmly, ignoring Stacy completely. She tried to remain cool and not let these macho guys get the better of her. My brain will make them pay in the end, she vowed.

Rory said, "We must wait for the pathologist to arrive. Meanwhile, run the story by me to set the scene."

Dan said, "You'd best hear it from officer Foreham rather than me. I'm just the driver of the car." Rory slowly turned to look down at the shorter Stacy with a condescending look.

Stacy briefly, but succinctly relayed the story up to this point. She emphasized the point that Veronica Stevens recognized that the golf club in the vics head looked like her missing 9 iron. Other than that, nobody recognized her, but that didn't mean she was a complete stranger. "I did find this up on the hill just before you raced up to me." She dug out of inside jacket pocket the baggie with the black spiked heel from a woman's shoe.

All three men turned to look at the dead person's feet to see if a shoe was missing. Stacy had already noticed that the dead woman wasn't wearing any shoes. "From what I can see it's not from this victim that broken heel that you have in your hand officer."

"How can you say that, detective? Nobody has scoured the area for any evidence yet. Let's not jump to any conclusions before the facts are discovered," said a stern Stacy.

All heard an electric golf cart coming and they turned to see who it was. Stacy saw it was her father the chief. She kept her mouth shut and waited for her father to arrive.

With a grim look, the salt and pepper haired Bandon Chief of Police Foreham slowly walked up to the four police officers, but his eyes were on the dead woman sitting incongruously on the number 5 tee box bench. Like most everything, such as the wooden bridges, the freshly white painted benches contrasted with the green foliage that surrounded the bench. Raymond introduced himself and then looked at his daughter. "Bring me up to date officer."

Almost verbatim with the statement she made to the two detectives, she told her father nothing different. She left out the broken heel evidence for the time being. He looked at the two detectives and said, "We can we expect the pathologist to be here?"

"I expect her here at anytime now," said Rory. "She was packing her gear when last I talked to her -- shouldn’t be far behind me—ah there she is now."

Coming up the 4^th fairway were two golf carts. When they arrived at the crime scene, Dr. Marsha Stone made her presence known. She too, had a grim look on her face, as did the chief. She nodded at Rory and Ben, then a smile to Chief Foreham. Chief Foreham introduced his two police officers and Marsha didn't miss the Stacy Foreham connection. Her smile dropped and with her assistant Fred Stairs, ducked under the tape walking slowly towards the woman on the bench. Fred took countless pictures from every angle possible. With the modern advent of digital, it gave the photographer unlimited film.

Like the professional she was, Dr. Stone performed her job well. About a good half hour later, she turned and said, "You can look for evidence now detectives. My best guess on time of death is around midnight last night. The cause of death will be determined at the morgue. The new links owner, Andy is arranging for a small tractor with a trailer to take the body off the course. I'll perform the autopsy soonest I can. With the nice weather, we've had a few fatalities from car accidents."

The five police officers began an examination of the area. While the detectives did their job, Stacy squatted down in front of the victim and started from the ground up in her examination. First she looked to see if the woman had been dragged to the bench or maybe walked. It was possible that she was carried, but why would a killer carry her all the way down the hill, through the gorse, to this bench? Stacy couldn't see any drag marks, but the ground was fairly hard and dry the last few days. Her feet were bare and sockless. The slacks she wore were cut off at just above the ankle. Her toe nails were painted and trimmed. Stacy thought she had nice feet and ankles. She looked under both feet to see if any grass stains or rock pits were evident. There was nothing unusual. They looked typical.

Next she looked to see if the woman had sat down voluntarily, that is, with her backside against the back of the bench and her legs in a comfortable position. Stacy was beginning to think the victim was walked here and forced to sit down. It looked like her legs were further apart that what might be considered normal. Her eyes moved higher to midsection and then on up to her neck. The rope was, she thought, clothes line rope. It wasn't so tight that it collapse the wind pipe, but tight enough to keep her head from moving very far. She looked hard at the mouth seeing it open, as if in a scream, but the tongue wasn't poking out. Her lips looked freshly applied with a light shade of orange that matched her long sleeve shirt.

The arms were tied in two places: one across the bicep and the other around the wrist. It was evident that method of securing a person to a bench such as this would result in a person not being able to move very much. The strange thing, if it could be called strange, was the fact no rope around the middle to keep her from sticking her feet out, or moving her backside to the front part of the bench. Could it be she just gave up? And what about the absence of light? If death occurred around midnight then it would be dark as all get out. Moon? She racked her brain for what the moon was doing last night.

Stacy stood back and looked at the young woman. She guessed her age at 27 to 30 at the outside. Indeed she was a nice looking woman. The why jumped in and that was motive. If you can discover motive then you're half way home to putting someone behind bars. Her thoughts were broken by Ben yelling he'd found something. He'd found the broken shoe and the mate to it. Needless to say, Rory wasn't too happy to hear that the shoes were found. Be that as it may, they continued to comb the area for her bag or purse. It would be nice to have some ID on the victim.

"Stacy, I've got to go now," said her father. "I need to fend off the press as Flo says they're beating down her door and ringing the phone off the hook. See me later and fill me in please."

Stacy waved and asked Dan to help her look for the victim's bag or purse. Of course it was entirely possible she'd left in the vehicle that brought her here. It would probably behoove the investigative team to have some volunteers comb the gorse. However, that was up to Rory and his team to decide.

 

Afterwards

 

How she did it, nobody remembered. Gladys secured a table for four and that's where the center of attention was located. The clubhouse was still teeming with locals and out of town folks that simply refused to leave until something developed. That something was unknown, but with nothing better to do, why not hang around a murder scene. The new club house had a small kitchen that served mostly hamburgers and sandwiches. Andy's wife Dorothy had a sweat up trying to fill orders. Andy was busy at the bar. He too had sweat running off his brow. With a mass of bodies, stagnant air from a high pressure system, coastal residents were not used to this particular climate.

Gladys said, "What do you think of our local police woman appearing like she knows what she's doing?"

Over the din of the room, Betty Flowers said, "I thought you knew she graduated at the top of her class in Criminology at the University of Chicago. If anyone solves this crime, it'll be her; I'll bet money on it."

"Well, be that as it may," said Veronica. "But I'll need to order a new 9 iron. I realize the poor woman was murdered by my Niblick, but I'm still put out a little bit."

"That's rather callus Veronica," said Lois. The poor woman was tied up and then watched as her murderer took a big swing burying the club in her head. Of course it was dark and no lights, but maybe the guy had a large flashlight to light up the scene. Nobody lives near or can drive by that part of the course. It's totally isolated. I wonder if there was a moon last night."

"My husband and I were sitting on the deck last night around 9 pm. A half moon was up and giving off some light, but not a lot," said Betty.

'I'm getting hungry," said Gladys. I say we ditch this place and go down the road to that new restaurant that advertises crab sandwiches." All stood up at the same time. No sooner had they began walking the table was occupied in a hot second. Andy watched them go and hoped that others would follow suit. Even though it was just past noon, he was ragged out. He wondered how his wife was holding up. Also, he realized the detectives would be coming soon to interview him. What a mess, he thought.

Rory and Ben heard the tractor coming pulling a trailer. Their search for evidence proved fruitless. Both decided they needed help combing the gorse on the hillside and in the creek. Also another look around the immediate scene might turn up something they missed.

Following the tractor were two employees of the state connected with the coroner's office. They would handle the body. There was some indecision as how to put the body in a body bag with a golf club sticking out of its head. Finally the body bag was zipped up to the neck with the club sticking out of the bag. There's nothing funny about murder, but when you saw a tractor with a small trailer chugging back towards the club house, with a black body bag laying in the back, a golf club sticking up with one man holding onto it, one couldn't help but see the humorous side of things.

The detectives drove back the way they came. Walking into the club house, Andy immediately knew that those were the Oregon State Police detectives coming to interview him and others. Andy was waiting for them to approach the bar. Once introduced Rory asked, "Mr. Southwin, is there a place we might hold interviews in; like maybe an office or spare room?"

"I've a small office that you're welcome to. Follow me please." As they walked past the seating area to the back, the room was as silent as a tomb. Rory's demeanor was one of dead seriousness. However, it was so plain, that it fooled now one that he was the consummate actor. On the other hand Ben Razor being the older of the two portrayed a professional appearance to the spectators.

Ben remained behind to interview the golfers who were following the initial foursome. He'd a list of names given him from the two city police officers. He called out the names and asked that they form a line against the wall.

"Rory said, "Beings you're here let's start with you and see what transpired this morning. Tell me your whereabouts last night."

Rory had commanded Andy's desk chair without any regard for the paperwork spread across it. Andy's face reddened a little as he pulled up a metal chair sitting down across from his usual place. "Friday night is poker night. Four of us rotate houses each week. Last night we were at Bill Stevens's house. I left there around 12:30 am. I arrived home around 1 am. I took a shower to wash off the stale cigarette smoke and went to bed.

This morning I arrived here at 6 am. That's my usual time to arrive at the links on the weekends. I did the usual preparation work getting ready for the tournament."

"Did you see anyone that looked suspicious?"

"No I didn't. The four ladies that discovered the body were the first to arrive. After my wife arrived around 7 am, I went outside to double check the tee times and check off the players. It was just after 8 am when the first foursome teed off."

"Let's go back to last night, Mr. Southwin. When you arrived home was your wife up and about or in bed?"

"I'm not sure-----well, you see-------we have separate bedrooms. My wife has insomnia and is up and down all night long. I really can't say where she was. She wasn't downstairs when I came home."

"Did you hear her at any time after you came home," asked Rory.

"No I didn't hear anything. I was a little, how to say it, tipsy. I went out like a light after I made sure my alarm clock was turned on. Oh! I saw it was a little after 1:30 am."

"Send in your wife please Mr. Southwin."

"Dorothy came in wiping the sweat from her brow. Rory could see why as she a little on the plus side, but not bad looking. Rory got right to the point. "Mrs. Southwin, tell me about your movements last night; or just after dinner hour."

Rory noticed she looked him in the eye and said, "We had dinner around 6 pm. After that Andy left for Bill Steven's house to play his weekly poker game. I guess boys will be boys. Anyway, after he left, I gave the cook and housekeeper the night off. I spent some time on the phone talking to old friends down in California. Then I watched some TV until around 11 pm. It was such a nice night I went out on the deck with a glass of wine to enjoy the still night. I'm not sure what time I came in, but I'd guess around midnight. I have a sleeping problem and try not to take too many sleeping pills, but last night I knew I needed my rest for the golf tournament. I took two pills and went out like a light. I never heard Andy come home. My alarm went off at 6 am. I arrived at the club house at 7 am."

Rory maybe a sexist man, but he did know when someone was lying or telling the truth. He had a nagging feeling Mrs. Southwin was not all that forthright in her statement. When they had the formal statement taken, he would make sure it was written down. He said, "Did you see anything out of the ordinary this morning?"

"No I didn't. I was busy right from the start. I should have hired some help. Or at least brought my housekeeper with me. I didn't know anything was wrong until the police showed up. I've been stuck behind the stove all morning."

"Thanks Mrs. Southwin. Please tell the detective outside to send one of the four women who discovered the body to me"

"Sorry they went to lunch. I'm to call when you want to interview each of them."

"Please call and tell them I'm ready now," he said, rather put out they would leave before giving a statement.

 

Meanwhile, Stacy and Dan gave up searching at noon. Both were hot and tired. Dan said, "I'll buy lunch if you are willing?"

"Sounds good, but first, let's report in to the chief." Stacy never referred to her boss as father; always chief. They walked back to the club leaving the golf cart for someone else to pick up.

At the police station, Chief Raymond was on the phone to the mayor. They were discussing how to handle the press. It was decided that both the mayor and chief would address the press at 5 pm. By that time the detectives might have something to report.

Stacy and Dan walked in just as the chief hung up. He motioned both to come into his office. Like most things in his life, Ray's office was austere, but functional. Usually only one visitors chair sat in front of his desk, but when both officers walked in, Dan had to drag another chair up. He motioned for them to sit down and took his place behind his desk. The old desk chair gave off similar sounds to his old bones when sitting down or getting up from a chair.

Probably his most redeeming features were his eyes. They were the same steely grey eyes that his daughter had. They could vacillate between warm and friendly to an intense scary look. Some said he missed his calling as an interrogative detective as he could play both roles: the good guy or the bad guy cop. He said, "We've a news conference at 5 pm. I'd like both of you to be there for our stake in the investigation. A little publicity is not frowned upon by our town as we do a lot of tourist business. Let them see we're on the job. Now can you give me what you know as fact and what is speculation on your parts? I realize speculation or assumptions are not good police work, but I might need some foresight into something later on in this investigation.

Let's begin with Dan. Tell me start to present time." Dan gave him his report and it really didn't reveal a whole lot of facts except the discovery of the broken heel.

Ray looked at his daughter and she said, "I'll begin with the body. I'd say she was around 30 or a little younger. There were at least 20 locals who viewed the victim. None recognized her. Let's assume or speculate she is not a local, but a tourist. I'm sure the state police will pass around her picture to the motels in the county. She was dressed nicely, neither provocative nor conservative. She could be from anywhere and could have worked for a score of different professions. Without some ID finding out whom she was, may be difficult. Let's hope fingerprints and or dental will help.

The method of death was truly a violent one. That could mean that whoever killed her was very angry or sick in the head; or maybe both. Also it would have taken some strength to carry her or overcome in a scuffle. I could see nothing under the fingernails as they were a dark crimson color. Of course an autopsy will reveal a lot of things we're speculating about.

Let's look at the site of the murder. The act took place on a bench to the back of the golf course. How did she get there and who placed her there? The forensic pathologist said it was around midnight when death occurred. I think we have to assume a golf cart and not a car or truck was used for transportation to the back of the course. That doesn't mean an ATV with a narrow wheel base couldn't have been used. Next we have the murder weapon, or at least we assume it's the instrument that killed her. If it's Veronica Stevens nine iron, then we have to assume someone gained entrance to the club house where the local keep their golf carts. I didn't look, but no one reported any forced entry to us. We need to ask Ms Stevens about where her golf cart and clubs were last night.

Now it's easy to assume that it was someone connected with the golf club; or had access to the storage room. Was a golf cart used last night to transport the killer and victim from the stock of the club? If so, then, was it parked where it should have been the next morning? Lots of questions and not many answers," said Stacy

Inside of Ray Foreham he was full of beaming pride. He was proud of her and what he'd heard usually came from at least a ten year veteran detective. Instead the account came from a first year rookie police officer not yet dry behind the ears. He said, "Stacy, I'd like for you to witness the autopsy. I talked to Marsha and she said no problem. It'll take place first thing Monday morning. I also talked to the Criminal Detective Division of the Oregon State Police. They've no objection to us doing our own investigation as long as it doesn't interfere with their job."

"I'm quite clear on that side of the coin, but on the other side is a sexist man named Rory Caltex. He's a redneck from way back. It'll be a struggle from start to finish. However, someone violently murdered that young woman and shouldn't or will not get away with it."

The chief said, "Let's go get some lunch, but on the other hand, we'd be flooded with questions at the restaurant. Dan, I feel like pizza. Would you order and go pick it up please."

 

After he left, what remained were the two Foreham police officers. Ray asked, "What do you need help with Stacy?"

"I will first need to read the statements given and then after that, be able to do my own interviews with a selected few. I'm not sure that you can run much interference between Detective Caltex and me. I'll have to handle that in my own way."

The Autopsy

 

Grudgingly, Detective Rory Caltex faxed the statements to the Bandon Police Department Saturday night. It's common among homicide detectives that the first 24 hours is the most important. Not all homicides fall into the category. There was very little anyone could do but wait for the Monday am autopsy. Stacy spent Saturday night and Sunday morning reading the statements. She threw a little caution to the wind and made some appointments to talk to the four golfers that had discovered the body. They were also local women who had an ear to the ground. Stacy's first interview was with Gladys Wainleft at 1 pm after church at her home.

Gladys and her husband lived on the bluff overlooking the Coquille River and the jetty which lay northward. Consequently, they were protected a little from the onshore prevailing winds. This part of the Beach Loop road, was the beginning of the 'horseshoe' designed loop. First, at the western end of town, the road made a sharp left we uphill due south, to the top, turned right, and then went due west for a quarter mile. After that, the road ran along top of the bluff area south alongside the ocean. At its highest point, the bluff was about 300' above sea level.

Gladys home was just after you turned right at the top of the hill just out of town. It was built in the fifties with the new 'rambler' style. It sat back from the road about 50 feet. Anyone parking out front could be seen through the huge front room picture window. It still looked nice after many years of proper upkeep. Gladys met Stacy at the door. The greeting was warm and cordial.

"Welcome Stacy. I'm not sure if you know or not, but your mother and I were the best of friends. I'm still not at ease with her passing. And let me add, I'm sure you aren’t either. Come let's sit out back as the weather is so nice these days." Stacy followed her to the sliding back doors onto a cedar deck. A round table sat with four chairs positioned under a very large Myrtle wood tree. Its snarly looking appearance was rather incongruent to the smooth lines of the home.

Stacy said, "I'm helping on the investigation into the death of the woman at the golf course. But first I want to thank you for the kind words about my mother. As a little girl I remember you visiting and she talked about you a lot. Now, I realize my questions are a repeat of what the state police asked, but have you ever seen that woman before around town?"

"All four of us talked about whether or not we'd seen her before and all said no, she's a complete stranger to us. Oh, by the way, that state police detective Rory what's his name is a real numbskull; as my mother would say. The questions he asked seemed right out of some police manual. Well, no matter as time will take care of the likes of him. You know March is spring vacation time, but she, the murdered woman didn't look like a school teacher to me. It's usually June before we get the rush of vacationers combing the beach for something to take back home. We all thought maybe she was an aspiring actress, model, call girl, or maybe a show girl. What she didn't look like was either the motherly or housewife type. Now that doesn't mean she wasn't some sort of executive dressed like she was. Those were expensive clothes she had on."

"Do you and your group always leave your clubs at the club house storage room?"

"Most of the time we do. Sometimes when we go out of town to play, we take our clubs the day before or the last time we played the course.''

"I know I'll ask Veronica the same question but do you think it was her club that was sticking out of the victims head?"

"Stacy, you must know Veronica. Whenever a new line hits the golf mags or the news, she's the first one to get fitted. Her current clubs are not quite two months old. Those grips are kind of unique and nobody in this county has grips like she has on her clubs. In answer to your question, it's probably 99% sure that's her nine iron."

"We can be sure then that her clubs and yours too, were at the club house Friday night?"

"Yes, we all left our clubs for the tournament on Saturday," said Gladys.

"How about an electric golf cart. Do you use one or walk the course?"

"Unless it's drizzling or a light rain, we walk pulling our clubs by wheel cart. Saturday we pulled our clubs on our carts."

Just then Mike, Gladys husband came out with a tray of cookies and lemonade. Mike Wainleft was a pleasant man who had his own insurance agency in town. He'd been a fixture in town since he was a little boy. Mike always joked that he fell in love with Gladys in the first grade. "Thanks Mr. Wainleft," said Stacy.

"You're very welcome Stacy. I haven't seen your father for awhile, so please tell him to stop by for some insurance talk," said Mike.

"I'll make a note of it," said Stacy.

"I'll leave you two now to discuss the nasty business of murder."

Both women chatted about local things and one thing that came up was Gladys comment about Andy and Dorothy Southwin. Gladys said, "It seems to me that Andy has been acting really strange lately. We stopped by, Mike and I for a drink Friday afternoon at the club. He was very nervous and sweating a lot. We asked about his health and he said he was fine just a little tired and busy."

"I'll go now," said Stacy. But one more question please. Was Dorothy there when you and Mike stopped by?"

"Yes, she served some snacks, but was very distant and not friendly" said Gladys with a raised eyebrow.

Next stop was Veronica's house. It too was located on the Beach Loop Road. The difference being Veronica's house faced west and was less than five years old. Also, this house was all wood from the west coast. Indeed the Steven's were very proud of their home. Veronica was on the back deck, as Stacy was shown in by the housekeeper. Both William and Veronica were having a cool drink enjoying the calm sunshine on the coast. Stacy noticed the almost nonexistent waves rolling onto shore. "Sorry to bother you on such a nice day. We've so few of these that it's rude to interrupt with a subject that isn't table talk," said Stacy.

"No that's fine Stacy. It beat the same old gossip we usually discuss on a Sunday. Now, what can I tell you?"

"I spoke with Gladys and she says you four ladies don't recognize the victim. Let's move on with the missing golf club. Tomorrow is the autopsy and after finger prints are taken, it will be kept as evidence. How sure are you it's your 9 iron?"

"Very sure it's mine. Nobody has the latest Nike clubs like mine. Those grips are special too. I doubt if you'll find my prints as I wear two gloves when I play golf," said Veronica. The idea that someone would use a golf club to kill a person in that way, staggers the imagination. No, she's not from around here. We've lived here for over ten years and it's not hard to spot a tourist. She's from out of town, but where, only God knows at this point."

"Let's go back to Saturday morning and walk me through when you got there and what you did and saw," said Stacy. "I'm curious as to the locals and how they seemed on a tournament day. In other words, did anyone seem nervous, besides the players I mean?"

"I arrived at the club at just after 7 am. Gladys was already there and so was Betty. I always take my golf shoes home with me. I put on my shoes, walked into the storage area where we keep our clubs, set the wheels and handle and then went to the tee off area to park my clubs. Andy was outside playing with the papers and schedule I guess. He gave me a quick good morning and I went inside to have a cup of coffee before teeing off. Inside were Gladys and Betty sitting at a table drinking coffee. I saw Dorothy in the kitchen, but paid no attention to her. The room had maybe 10 locals drinking coffee. I joined my group and we waited for Lois to show up. She came in just shortly after we finished our coffee. She took a Styrofoam cup outside where we warmed up and hit a few balls at the driving range.

At just before 8 am, Andy made an announcement that the tournament was about to begin. I did noticed he was sweating a lot and very nervous. I attributed it to the tournament jitters as this was his first since taking over the course two years ago."

"Thanks and now Mr. Stevens, Andy's statement says he was playing poker Friday night with you and two other men?"

"Yes, that's right Stacy," said Mike. "We finished around midnight. The boys left and I cleaned up a bit. Veronica was still awake reading when I went to bed."

"Did Andy seem his usual self Friday night," asked Stacy. She had never sat back in her chair. With open notebook and pen in hand, she sat on the edge of her chair and never took a note.

"Come to think about it, he seemed sort of depressed or distant Friday night. He usually wins a few bucks, but he lost a fair amount of dough that night. The other guys and I ribbed him, but he never smiled much."

"Was he drinking much or about usual," said Stacy.

"I'd say about normal. Not too much to drive a short distance home. We're all careful about that these days."

"Many thanks for your help. I've got to run now and see Betty Flowers."

 

Betty was home working in her flower beds. She was a widow woman since her husband died in Iraq. After his death, she found a small house up on the hill, not far from a church. She had no view to speak of but loved to toil in her yard. By now it was late in the afternoon, so as soon as Betty saw the Bandon Police car drive up, she called it a day. She was hot and thirsty. She'd made some sun tea and added some ice cubes to it while they sat at a picnic table out back on the small lawn.

Stacy loved the little two bed house. It seemed to fit Betty's petite personality as well. After a quick glass of ice tea, Stacy asked, "When you arrived at the club, did you notice anyone acting out of their usual personality?"

"Well, like I told that pampas ass detective, nothing I saw or heard was out of the ordinary. Lois was riding with me. We both picked up our clubs and went to the first tee. Andy was there and seemed a little uptight, but that was understandable."

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary or someone who might look a little suspicious?"

"All I remember seeing is locals. I thought Dorothy was a little short and crabby as I wanted a cup of coffee to go. We're regular customers there. No matter the chaotic time just before a tournament, be nice to your friends. I remember Lois saying the same thing."

"Give me your take on what you saw with the victim and why she might be here in town?"

"Like the other of our group, we thought she was a class lady dressed very well. Young, of course, but as to why she was here, there'd have to be a specific reason to be here. She didn't come to play in the surf or walk the beach. She came to see someone and that got her killed ---Oh I hear Lois coming. She and I are having dinner today. You can interview her while I prepare the BBQ."

Lois Long was also a single woman. To hear her tell the story: "I got lucky that he ran away before I kicked him out. I've made some mistakes in my life, but nothing like how this marriage turned out. It's also fortunate we had no kids."

She was nice looking and fit for middle age. Her short brown hair suited her looks very well. Stacy didn't know her and she was a transplant from Portland some years ago. They shook hands and gathered back around the picnic table. Stacy asked, "Did you perhaps see anyone that was a stranger or acted strangely?"

"Not really. Both Andy and Dorothy were a bit crabby, but we thought that was the pre-tournament jitters. The remainder of the people was either players or spectators from the local area."

"I read your statement that you gave the state police. However, I wonder what you might think about how the body got to where it was. That is by golf cart, or some other method of transportation. About the only thing that wouldn't leave heavy tracks would be a golf cart or a small ATV of some sort."

"I think a golf cart. It's quiet and quite able to carry two people easily to the 5^th tee box. Also, someone had to either break in or have a key to take Veronica's golf club. The keys to the golf carts are in the pro shop," said Lois.

"Yes, but it would it not be entirely possible to have stolen the golf club during the day Friday? Also, a golf cart key missing wouldn't raise a lot of eyebrows during that same daytime Friday," replied Stacy.

"Well, Stacy, you seem to be on top of this case so let's hope you capture the killer soon," said Lois.

 

Monday morning found Stacy at the Coos Bay morgue. She was early, but Dr. Marsha Stone was busy preparing for work that morning. The body, Stacy assumed, was on the stainless table under a green sheet. Two assistants were gathering their instruments to determine what killed the victim.

Stacy was standing just inside the door with her arms wrapped around her chest due to the cold room temperature. Dr. Stone motioned her over as she positioned the body cart under the video camera hanging from the ceiling. "Stacy, nice to see you this morning. We'll be ready in a few minutes as I need to double check the sound recording.

Stacy smiled and said, "A good morning to you too. Even though I've spent a many an hour in a lab or morgue viewing autopsies, I've never gotten over the violation of the person."

"Where did you go to school Stacy?"

"The University of Chicago," said Stacy.

"Wow, the premier university for criminology. I presume that was your major," said Dr. Stone.

"Yes. My father insisted and he wanted me to join the FBI or some high powered investigative agency. I'm young yet and will decide in a few years. I'd like to see how I work under circumstances more personal."

The swinging door banged open making the two women turn to look at who was arriving. First through swinging doors was Rory with a swagger; followed by his sidekick Ben Razor. Walking, or striding, would be a better word, Rory said, "I see we have police officer Foreham on site this morning. Did you bring your barf bag?"

"It slipped my mind detective, but if need be I'll use your pocket, okay," replied Stacy without a skip in the conversation. "Furthermore, I'll be here until the end and let's see if you can hang in there that long."

"Okay, all of you put on our autopsy uniforms. The dressing rooms are out the door, turn left, first door left for men and first door right for women. There're marked Rory so you shouldn't have any problem," said Dr. Stone.

Everyone appropriately attired, Dr. Stone began the autopsy with a microscopic look at every inch of the outside of the body. She recorded everything she saw. She described the blunt force trauma to the head. From what Stacy could determine, the iron portion of the golf club was imbedded to the hosel. It was obvious that it took a great downward force to penetrate about 5/16 of an inch thick skull. The hair was natural shinny light brown. Stacy noticed it was nicely styled and she used a good shampoo and conditioner.

The examination was interrupted slightly by three visitors. Stacy saw her father the chief, the mayor and a captain of the Oregon State Police. They were standing some distance away. She noticed Rory came to attention and increased his attention. He's afraid of his job, Stacy thought. He looked down at her and she looked up smiling at his gesture. His face changed color just a little, much to Stacy's pleasure.

The mouth was next in importance to Stacy. The teeth were perfect in every way. So far the evidence pointed to an actress hopeful, a showgirl, a model, or just a well off young woman wanting to look good.

After the head examination, Dr. Stone pulled down the sheet exposing the upper body to the belly button. Even in death she looked good, Stacy thought. She had nice formed original breasts and a flat stomach. As the examination continued, Stacy began to wonder where this woman came from. Flyers need sent out across the western states.

After the shoulders, arms and under arms, Dr. Stone spent some time on the hands and fingers. Strangely enough the tips of the fingers showed some slight calluses. Both Dr. Stone and Stacy cocked their heads at the anomaly.

The sheet came entirely off revealing the victim from the waist down to her painted toe nails. All eyes focused on the tattoo just to the left of her pubic region and slightly above. It was heart shaped with the bottom of the heart pointed down. A word was plainly visible running on a diagonal from about 11 o'clock to 5 o'clock. The word was: 'dandy'. On the opposite side, from 1 o'clock, the feathers, to 7 o'clock was an arrow piercing the heart with the point of the arrow pointing at her vagina. Very unique, Stacy thought.

Rory let off a whistle. The three other spectators moved closer being careful not to contaminate the body with debris. "Please give me room to work," said Dr. Stone. Stacy looked carefully at her legs seeing smooth well shaped legs. Such a pity, she thought. What a waste of a fine looking human. Stacy was very sure this woman was not a bad person at all. Now she lay on a cold steel table in an even colder sterile room laid out for examination by strangers. Some changes are needed in the future, she thought.

Stacy stayed and so did Rory while Dr. Stone completed the autopsy. The stomach was empty; lungs were clear, heart in good shape and the startling news came when it was discovered the dead victim was pregnant. The first thing that came to Stacy's mind was: 'Ah, the plot thickens.'

"I'll have a written report completed by Tuesday afternoon," Dr. Stone said. Time of death is still around midnight to 2 am, give or take. Death due to blunt force trauma to the head. No evidence of recent sex. Stomach was void of food. We'll run a toxic screen for drugs as is usual. It'll take a few days on that report. Dental records maybe as she had caps, but had her wisdom teeth removed. No evidence of fillings."

Rory asked, "Dr. Stone, did you see anything particularly unusual that might help us in our investigation?"

"I'm not sure, but she wore no jewelry; not even a ring. This homicide was not based upon robbery, but hateful murder. She's from out of town and I'd look south if it were me. I'd say she ran in a circle of similar social status women looking to find their place in the world," said Dr. Marsha Stone.

The doctor and her staff were the only ones left in the room. The VIPs left before the Y cut; Rory and his shadow left not long afterwards. Stacy was impressed with Dr. Stone's professionalism and technique. She'd spent many hours watching noted forensic pathologists perform autopsies. Someday she would ask Dr. Stone how she came to this coastal city of Coos Bay, Oregon.

As she got into her cruiser, she felt hunger pangs. She'd had no breakfast to speak of and now it was past noon. She didn't want any junk food and she needed to think. She decided to drive over to Charleston, find a nice seafood restaurant and from there, who knows where the day would lead to.

 

 

Bits and Pieces

 

Stacy found a deli instead. She was starving and loaded up. Not so far along the coast, southward, is a nice park area alongside the ocean known as Sunset Bay. She found an empty picnic table and set her deli bag next to her notebook. But first she wolfed down a couple big bites of her roast beef on French bread.

Her notes started at the top of the head with the hair, then to the wound itself. She'd been taught that small details were very important. Her professor, Dr. A Jones used a 1000 piece puzzle as an analogy: even the smallest piece has a place in the complete picture.

The hair was shoulder length, smooth and silky; professionally styled. Teeth capped gleaming pure white. Her eyes were large and grey with neatly trimmed eye brows. Very little make up could be seen. Her long slim neck was without a blemish on it. Arms long and thin with the underarms recently plucked. Her fingers too were long and slender. The slight callous on the thumbs and tips of the fingers was a puzzler. This must have something to do with her work was obvious.

Next she'd made a comment in her notes that the breasts were natural and not enhanced. Both were of average size. Stacy came to the real mystery of the body and that concerned the tattoo. Why would she refer to her pelvic area as: 'dandy' with a cupid arrow pointing directly at her mound? She, as she gobbled down a dill pickle, realized the tattoo was a major clue. That along with being pregnant suggested her trip to Bandon was to notify the father? On the other hand, maybe she was visiting a friend, relative or …………..

Stacy finished eating her lunch and packed up her trash. On the way back to the police station, she flashed on the theft of the golf club and the possible use of cart to transport the killer and victim. Because there was no sign of a break in, the golf club must have been taken Friday. She pondered that idea and remembered her interview with Gladys saying they had had a cocktail on Friday at the club. Another visit was in order with Gladys, she thought as she pulled into the police station.

Her cell rang and she wondered who was calling as she didn't recognize the number. She answered it formally and found Rory on the other end of the line. "Hi Officer Foreham. I thought I'd update you on what we've been doing since the autopsy. We've sent out her prints and picture to all of California, Nevada and Arizona. As you know there was no record of her fingerprints in the system. Now is there anything you'd like to share with me," he said sarcastically.

"Yes, find the father of her baby. If you find him, he's probably the killer," said a forthright Stacy.

"I have to see Andy Southwin again. Would you like to go with me around 4 pm?"

"Why are you being so nice detective?"

"I guess you showed me you stuff today at the autopsy. Besides I need a witness as Ben is in court today. I could wait, but I thought of you," he said with a honey voice.

The smooth voice just irritated Stacy, but she thought, what the heck, nothing to lose and I can see once more if he's returned to his usual calm self. On top of that, she wanted to see his reaction to learning the dead woman was pregnant. "Okay detective I'll meet you at the golf course at 4 pm?"

"Sounds good -----but I could pick you up at the station."

"I'd rather take my own car, thank you. Besides I need to interview one of the original finders of the body," she said with a much nicer tone that she'd used before. Stacy smiled as jumped on the baited hook. He said:

"Oh, which one and would it be alright if I tagged along?"

"I don't see why not. I'll see you at 4."

 

Stacy arrived early as she had a few questions for Dorothy Southwin if she was around. When she walked in, she saw a few regular faces having a brew. For all intends and purposes, most things had returned to normal at the links. She saw Dorothy in the small kitchen vigorously cleaning the grille. Andy was behind the bar polishing glasses and pretending he was busy. Stacy walked over to the bar, sat on a stool waiting for him to ask what she wanted to drink.

Andy wasn't a bad looking guy, Stacy thought. His age was around 40 plus, with a full head of sandy thin hair. A slight paunch from too much rich food, but otherwise seemed healthy. He walked up with his mouth smiling but his eyes wary darting around as if looking for someone. Finally he focused on Stacy asking her what her pleasure might be. She told him a club soda with a twist of lemon would be very nice. He scurried away and while he fixed her drink, Stacy slipped off the chair and went to see Dorothy.

"Hello Mrs. Southwin," said Stacy. I see you're busy, but could we perhaps sit down and let me ask a few question pertaining to the homicide case."

Dorothy stopped her scrubbing the grille, wiped her hands on her kitchen apron and said, "Sure can do Stacy. Give me a minute to clean up myself. I'll be right with you." Stacy went back to the bar. Her soda was sitting there waiting for her. Andy, meanwhile, was at the table where four guys were swilling down one beer after another. Andy came hurrying back for more beer.

Dorothy came out very quickly, Stacy thought. They moved to a table rather than the impersonal bar. She'd brought a cup of coffee with her. Stacy said, "A homicide takes away one's privacy until the case is closed. I'm sorry to pester you, but I thought better me than that detective from the state police. Which, by the way, he'll be here shortly. He has some questions for your husband." Stacy was watching closely Dorothy's expression at hearing the detective was coming back again. Her eyes moved quickly to her husband who was delivering the beer to his customers. It seemed to Stacy she was a little too nervous for just a routine round of questions.

"Mrs. Southwin, let's go back to last Friday the day before the murder. Were you here during the day and if so, give me your movements during the day until you went home."

Dorothy squirmed just a slight amount and said, "I arrived her at 7 am. I had some shopping to do for some things I forgot I needed for the tournament. I made a full pot of coffee knowing a lot of people would be here practicing or just hanging around the putting green. I made a list and motored to Coos Bay shopping. I suppose it was around noon when I arrived in Coos Bay. I decided to treat myself to lunch. After lunch I did my shopping and came back here around 2 or 2:30. I served some afternoon snacks to some regular customers. Let's see, I'm not sure, but I think I was home around 6 pm."

"Did you perhaps see anyone suspicious looking or a stranger snooping around?"

"No I didn't, but then I wasn't here very much that day," she said gaining confidence as time went on.

"Did you see Gladys and her husband on Friday having a cocktail?"

"Yes, I did. I served them some snacks too. We didn't talk much as Andy seemed to hog the conversation as usual.""Thanks Mrs. Southwin. However, I'm wondering what time you left here Friday morning," asked Stacy.

Stacy saw Rory walk in and she minutely shook him off. He turned to the bar for a drink while Mrs. Southwin said, "I'm not sure maybe around 9 am. I stopped off at my house for some headache medicine. Then I lay down for a few minutes. Like I said, I arrived in Coos Bay around noon."

"That's all for now. Again thanks," said Stacy. Dorothy got up and shuffled off to the kitchen giving Stacy a good look at her build. She was about average in height, but fairly stocky through the shoulders with heavy hips. The question in Stacy's mind was: could this woman carry a 115 pound woman and place her on the bench perhaps 30 feet away?

Rory came over with a golden smile and sat down with his beer. "Care to update me officer Foreham?"

"Let's make a deal detective. We share what we have and if one is caught hording information, then our relationship is gloves off. Do I make myself clear? A young woman was brutally murdered and the killer is still lurking around my town of Bandon," Stacy said rather strongly.

"Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you. I totally accept your offer. I did a little background check on you and find you're a graduate of the University of Chicago. I'm impressed. Now having said that, my meager college is not of note, but I do have a few years of investigative experience."

"One more thing, let's keep the macho bullshit and sexist statements with your drinking buddies, but not with me. Let me say this. You cross the line and you'll be explaining yourself in front of some unfriendly people."

"Jesus H. You don't fool around do you? I'll admit that sometimes I forget we're in the 21 century. Let's see what transpires down the road. Now, let's get Andy Southwin on the hot seat. After that let's kick around your questioning of the wife and put the two together. Agreed," said a friendlier Rory.

"Agreed. Motive is what we're looking for. Obviously I doubt some out of town person came to the Bandon Links, stole a golf club, stole a golf cart, then drove it with an out of town woman to the back of the course and murdered her."

"I'm with you," said Rory. Let's dig deeper into the background of the new owners of this here golf course. I heard they were from the Silicon Valley where money grows on trees. I've a young trainee looking into the Southwin's back ground as we sit here enjoying another beautiful day on the coast of Oregon."

Andy came over to see if they wanted a refill. Detective Caltex said, "Yes, please and when you have some time we have a few questions we'd like to ask you concerning the homicide case." Andy's smile disappeared and with eyes darting around the room, looked unsecure at best.

He said, "Give me a few minutes to see what the other customers need and I'll be right with you." He slowly walked off as if in deep thought, rather than to tend his customers. After filling their order, he asked his wife to watch the bar while he talked to the police.

He meekly came to their table and Rory said, "Let's go to your office for more privacy please." The difference this time in Andy's office was he sat behind the desk while the two police investigators sat opposite the desk in metal chairs.

Rory asked, "We need to be sure we have the facts clear in our minds Mr. Southwin about your movements, Friday, the day before the homicide."

"I arrived here at the course a little before 6 am. I made preparations for the tournament. I was busy with the tee times and tending to the customers. My wife went to Coos Bay shopping and didn't return until around 2 pm. I'd forgotten to pick up two tables and umbrellas in Coos Bay. I left in my pickup and was back here by around 5 pm, I think."

"After you locked up that evening, did you see any golf carts missing," asked Rory.

"We have ten carts. They're numbered and parked by number under the car port. I remember glancing that way and saw nothing missing. I arrived home, had dinner, after that I went to the poker game at Mayor Stevens' house."

"Where are the keys to the golf cart kept," asked Stacy.

"In the pro shop. We don't have a pro yet so I'm the one who takes the green fees and tend the shop," said Andy with growing confidence.

"So, if you're away from the pro shop, anyone can come in and help themselves," asked Stacy.

"No, no," said Andy. "We have a laser light that when broken sends a buzzer sound to the bar here and kitchen. Also, we have a video camera that's on while we are open."

"I think we need to see that video Mr. Southwin. Please make it available while we're here. Now, where were you living before you moved to Bandon, Oregon," asked Rory.

"We lived in Silicon Valley up until two years ago. We'd come up here on vacation and discovered this old course in weeds. I researched the history and we decided to invest in restoring an old historic golf links. The rest we'll say is history."

"The statement you made the other day as to your whereabouts Friday night are still without change," asked Rory. My notes here say you went to bed around 1:30 am. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's about right. I remember the time as I set my alarm for early the next morning," said a now more nervous Andy.

Stacy thought she'd take a shot in the dark and asked, "You like to gamble Mr. Southwin?"

"Well yes, but I'm not addicted if that's what you're alluding to. I like a friendly game of poker with friends. It's a more social thing than trying to win a lot of money."

"Living near an airport like San Jose, it's easy to hop aboard to Vegas or Reno. Which of those two places to you prefer," asked Stacy.

Both watched Andy carefully as he played with a pencil on his desk looking anywhere but at the two police officers. He looked up and said, "We like Vegas best. However, we only went there three or four times a year."

"When I'm there," said Rory, "I seem to win on the blackjack tables and lose my butt at the crap tables."

Andy perked up and said, "Yeah, me too. I like the blackjack best. We also take in the shows. As regards Reno, it's just more convenient to go to Vegas than Reno."

"Mr. Southwin, in front of a witness, I'm going to ask you to volunteer a DNA sample. It's simple as I just swab the inside of your mouth and that's it. I want to make it clear that you will do it of your own free will," said Rory.

Andy's mind was churning circles. If he refused, it would make him look guilty. If he volunteered, what did he have to lose? He could think of no reason not to, so he said, "Sure, why not. I've nothing to hide."

At Gladys house, she was all smiles at the handsome detective Rory Caltex. The weather was still warm so they sat on the deck. She served fresh lemonade then asked how she could help.

Rory asked, "You and your husband had cocktails at the golf course last Friday; is that right?"

Yes, we stopped there for a drink.

"Was Andy there and at what time were you two at the golf course," asked Stacy.

"He came in around 5 pm. He waved and replaced the part time bar maid. He came over and said he'd been to Coos Bay picking up some tables for tomorrow's tournament."

"Did you see Dorothy anywhere around," asked Stacy.

"She apparently had been in the kitchen fixing some snacks, but I never saw her until after Andy arrived," said Gladys. "Of course I wasn't paying much attention either."

"How did Andy appear to you? In other words, was he his normal self or did you detect anything different about him," asked Stacy.

"When he came in he looked flustered and seemed out of breath. However, he did say he'd unloaded some tables and umbrellas too."

"We thank you Mrs. Wainleft. You've been a big help. I hope its okay to come back again sometime to ask a few more questions," said Stacy.

"Anytime is fine with me. I'm very sad for the girl's loss of life, but it sure beats the boring routine around town that confronts us every day," she said laughing.

Walking out to their cars, Rory said, "I had a good time this afternoon. I hope we can continue with our new relationship. I'm working hard to not be an asshole." Stacy laughed and said:

"One afternoon doesn't make a week Rory. Let's see what happens tomorrow."

"Wow! You called me by my first name. Now I know I'm making progress."

 

Missing Persons Report

 

Dr. Stone was pushing hard for a DNA drug screen on the victim. She'd received the DNA from Detective Caltex of Andy Southwin. They had a rush order attached to the results. The samples were sent by plane on Monday to Portland. Hopefully, the results would come back on Wednesday.

In the meantime, Stacy went to the state police office in North Bend. She was anxious to see, if any, results from the western states flyer on the homicide victim. They found a small desk for her to work at with a computer, that simply put, had seen better days. Both she and Rory were searching missing person reports from major cities. Stacy had a hunch that Los Vegas might be where the murder victim was from. It would seem to tie her and Andy together.

It would seem natural that the pregnant woman would find the father to inform him of the baby coming. If the DNA matched the fetus, bingo, they had their prime suspect. That would insure the motive part of the investigation. Next would be opportunity. It was at that point Stacy lost it. The sixty four dollar question: how did the victim arrive at the golf course? Another question would be: where did she stay on Thursday night and where were her bags?

Rory told her they canvassed every motel in the area showing pictures of the victim. Nobody remembered a lovely lady, dressed nicely, checking in or checking out. She and Rory were having lunch when she thought of something. "Rory, we need to check Andy's credit card charges for the last couple weeks or so."

"Okay, but I don't follow. Enlightened my thick skull," he said.

"We can't find where she checked in, but maybe he reserved a room for her. If she came in late, after midnight, the desk person would be probably sleepy and not remember her coming in."

"I'm on it when we get back to the office. You might have something there. By the way, I saw the smug look on your face at the autopsy when you saw the heart tattoo. Would you care to enlighten me one more time," he said with sugar coating on his words.

"That doesn’t take a rocket scientist Rory. What was the word you saw on the heart,'' she asked.

"It said 'dandy', is what I read."

"Well, drop the first letter and what does it say?"

"Lord I feel like I've rocks in my head. It's circumstantial, but adds some weight to the crime evidence. Now we need someone to confirm that's what was intended. I think we will find a friend of hers out there somewhere."

 

Ace and Jack of Spades

 

Las Vegas detective Ron Fletcher wasn't the least bit excited about having to circulate a composite picture of a homicide victim. His lieutenant told him this was important and make the effort. Ron knew better than to argue that he'd cases pending that were more important than a murder victim up in Oregon.

He struck out at the first hotel/casino. Even though it was only the middle of March, it felt like summer was already upon Vegas. With his a/c on full, he drove north of the strip to the Wynn Las Vegas; his favorite off duty place to hang out. He pulled up into the front entrance parking off to the side under cover. He was recognized by the door man, Barry Franks, a premature grey hair man who was the fixture of the hotel. Ron tossed his keys to the parking dude and with purpose, made straight for Barry. If there was anyone here that would recognize the picture it was Barry. He had a knack for faces and names: hence, his longevity around town. Ron said, "Morning Barry. You're looking dapper as usual."

"Indeed yes, Ron, that's my job. However, I wish Nike made some dress shoes as my feet are feeling the years of standing in front of a door. What can I do for you today," said Barry with a very smooth friendly voice.

"Here, take a look at this and tell me if you have seen or know this person," he gave the file to Barry who opened it up and Ron saw his eyebrows shoot up.

"Why yes, this is one of our dealers. Her name is Vicki Strom. Her friend and roommate is Diane Valdez who is also a dealer. Let's see," he stroked his smooth shaven chin with his long fingers, "she's working the swing shift this week I think. See the girl in the office and she'll give you her work schedule, address and phone number. May I ask why? Diane said she was taking a few days off and would be back soon."

"Sadly Barry, if she is identified as Vicki Strom, she's a murder victim up in Oregon. Damn, I think I remember her now. Nice looking and very friendly to the customers. Anyway, thanks Barry. I'll catch you later."

Ron wrote down the contact information. He called Diane Valdez cell phone. She answered seemingly out of breath. "Hello, sorry, just out of the shower and ran to the kitchen for my phone," Diane said

Ron identified himself and asked if he might come visit her as it concerned her roommate Vicki Storm. "I can't give you any details over the phone, but would 20 minutes be sufficient time to be ready to meet me."

"Oh God, has something bad happened to her. I told her not to go see that bastard. Shit; how bad is it?"

"I'll be there in a short while," Ron said hanging up. Even though Diane was just a friend and not family, sometimes friends took it harder than if it was kin.

Diane met him at the door of her apartment. She already had tears streaming down her face. Homicide detectives don't stop by to just visit. Diane had almost ten years of Vegas under her belt. She knew about violence and what powerful people could do if they so desired.

Diane led him into the small living room area which was nicely furnished. "She is dead isn't she?"

He showed her the picture and she confirmed it was Vicki. Ron saw her trying to regain control and not be such a cry baby. While she blew her nose, he dug out his notebook and prepared to take her statement. Diane didn't need any prompting, she said, "I told her not to go that it would only end badly. But she was determined to tell him she was with child."

"Sorry to interrupt, but who is him," asked Ron.

"His first name is Andy and I don't know his last name. She met him at the casino about a year ago. She told me he was from California and very rich. He told her the same old story that his wife hated him and he was going to get a divorce very soon. I think she knew deep down that it was all a ploy to get her panties off, but she was gullible. We'd been together for the last five years working at the same place. We know not to fraternize with the customers. She resisted for awhile and then next thing I know she fell in love with the asshole. By the way, did he kill her?"

"I don't know Diane. I was just handed this picture and told to pass it around. What else can you tell me? How did she get from her to Oregon?"

"He sent a plane ticket to Eugene, Oregon. From there she was to take a bus to Coos Bay and check into some motel."

"Did she tell the guy she was pregnant?"

"Yes, and she told me he was so happy because he didn't have any children with his wife."

"When did she leave and when was she planning on returning to work," asked Ron.

She left here, Thursday morning and was scheduled to return tomorrow; come to think about it. She was traveling light, with just a small pull bag with wheels. God, her parents are going to just have a fit. She's an only child from the Midwest somewhere; I forgot where."

Ron said, "I've very sorry. She sounds like a nice person to me. I see on the wall picture of the two of you. She's beautiful and so are you for that matter."

Diane blushed and said, "She wanted to be a dancing girl on the stage. However, she was such a good dealer, they ignored her plea. Shit. I can't go to work feeling like this. I've some time off coming. I think I'll call in and take a vacation day. Thanks for coming detective Ron. I've seen you around, but never at the tables?"

"I am too tight to let a rich tycoon take my hard earned money. I do like the atmosphere and the restaurants there at Wynn's. If, by the way, I've more questions is it alright to call you?"

"Perfectly alright. I hope they hang the bastard. It's always the good ones that die young; right?"

He left her sniffling and hated this part of the job. Next he stopped back by the casino and took down all of Vicki's information; including her parent's address in Iowa.

Back at the office, Ron reported to his boss that he found the girl in question. The lieutenant asked Ron to call the Oregon State Police in Oregon and report what he'd found out. He handed Ron a paper with the name of the detective in Oregon and his phone number.

Rory, Ben and Stacy were sitting around reading about the history of Andy and Dorothy Southwin. Stacy had his credit card usage for the last six months. He seemed to use it for everything. His limit was for special customers. Using a ruler, she went backwards from Saturday last when the murder occurred. In particular she was looking for lodging and transportation use. Just as she thought she found what she was looking for, the incoming call was for Rory. Stacy thought it might be the report from Dr. Stone, but no he sounded like he was talking to a man.

She went back to the long list of charges. Under her ruler was the charge on the 8^th of March to a travel agent in San Jose, California. It was for a round trip from Vegas to Eugene, Oregon. Rory said, "Stacy, did you hear what I said? We ID the victim. A Las Vegas homicide detective called with a positive ID. Our victim is a 30 year old from Iowa. Her name is Vicki Strom. She's a blackjack dealer at Wynn Las Vegas Hotel. Her best friend Diane Valdez was her roommate for the last five years. Now, get this, the probable father is her boyfriend Andy with no last name. I see the noose tightening around Andy Southwin's neck; don't you?"

"Looks like we got lucky detectives. I've a credit card charge here for Vicki Strom round trip dated March 9 and return March 16^th. Now if Dr. Stone calls and confirms the DNA from fetus to Andy, we've got a firm case I'd say," said a joyful Stacy.

"She probably took a bus from Eugene to Coos Bay. We'll, most likely, find a motel with a bogus name. He'd want to keep her under wraps, I'd guess. Also, we need to find out how she went from Coos Bay to Bandon,'' said Rory.

"I think we'll find that happened on Friday when he went to Coos Bay to pick up those tables," said Stacy. In addition, there're still lots of unanswered questions that need answers to. Did he drug her then later that night after the poker game, drive her in a golf cart to the back of the course and murder her?"

"You know what; this guy is not very smart. He uses a credit card to book airfare, probably motel too, knows she's pregnant, the best friend said she had told dandy Andy she was carrying his baby; and to top it off, he gives us his DNA," said a smug Rory.

"It all fits too nicely in my opinion," said Stacy. "It's a slam dunk. This guy will never see freedom again. He's rich, has a wonderful new project going on and what does he do, get's some young lady pregnant and kills her."

While there're discussing the case, Dr. Stone made a phone call to the state police office. Rory takes the call. Listens and says very little. He gives her a big thank you and hangs up. He says, "Bingo kids. It's a match on the DNA. The drug screen says she had traces of a sleeping medicine eszopiclone under the brand name Lunseta. I say we go pick him up. Let me go see the captain first." Rory jumps up and nearly broke the captain's office door knocking so hard.

 

 

 

Silence is Golden

 

Stacy went back to Bandon while Rory and his partner waited for an arrest warrant. She wondered how Andy would take the charge of murder and what about his wife? She too must suffer the humiliation of her husband being booked on a murder charge. Even though it had only been a few days since the body was discovered, it seemed like a month ago. She was dog tired and needed some good sleep. Of course she wanted to witness the interrogation, but told Rory she would read the interview tomorrow.

Her father was waiting for her to come home. They lived on the hill behind the supermarket. Stacy couldn't remember any other house but this small, neat, two bedroom on a large lot. This location was named 'New Bandon' and down the hill sat 'Old Bandon next to the mouth of the Coquille River.

Parking her police car next to her father's car, she took her time walking into the house. What she did notice was it felt cooler now and maybe the special March weather was over.

Her father was reading the paper with the sound of the TV off but a game show program was on. He never watched anything but the news, but she guessed he felt with the TV on it was company even without sound. Her mother was a quiet person. She couldn't remember her parents ever having angry or loud words around the house.

He said, "Glad to see you back Stacy. I got a call from Captain Blane filling me in on the recent reports. He told me to tell you 'good work' and that I was lucky to have such a smart police officer on staff."

"I'll be right back dad. I need to change out of these clothes into something much more comfortable. By the way, have you had dinner?"

"No, I was waiting for you. The captain said you were on the way back to Bandon, so I thought we'd have something after you got home. How about some ham and eggs or an omelet?"

"Sounds good. I'll be back in a flash," said Stacy as she swiftly walked to her bedroom. Not that she was a neat freak, but she kept her room organized. In her book of life, there was always time to put your stuff neatly away. After tucking her pistol into her night stand, she jumped into the shower. Afterwards she put on sweats and was combing her hair when she walked into the kitchen where the smell of ham was cooking.

Her father was a good cook. In no time, while she made sourdough toast, he had a six egg omelet cooking. He kept it simple this night as no onions and only mushrooms were added. Stacy kept up a chatter giving him an overview of the case while they enjoyed dinner.

"Are you satisfied with the results Stacy," he asked while sipping some decaf coffee.

"I'm not sure. It all seems to pat to me. He's either the most stupid guy I know or he knows something we don't know. His credit card for travel, motel, and then the DNA seals the deal. He had motive and opportunity. The prosecution will be smiling walking around with a feather in their hats. If they give Andy Southwin the death penalty, he'll languish on death row until god knows when. Some of those sentenced to death have been there for a quarter of a century. Even if you waive the appeal, they still won't execute the person.

I don't know dad, maybe I'm reading too much into it. I know it would take a very strong minded person to kill a girlfriend who was carrying your baby. According to Vegas, Vicki was very happy and she told her best friend that Andy was happy too. Then we she gets here, he drugs her, loads her into a golf cart, after playing poker with his friends, takes her to the back of the golf course and slams a golf club into her head? I'm just not sure, what do you think Chief Foreham?"

"Like you my daughter, I've been considering all of the facts and what surrounds the case involving certain individuals. I'll refrain from comment until I hear what Andy has to say when the interrogation is complete. Now, before you tell me it's a cop out, think about it until the final die is cast," said a gentle father and policeman to his grown up daughter.

The next morning as Stacy was drinking her first cup of coffee, Rory called. He said, "You're not going to believe this, Andy Southwin never said a word; nada, pure silence. When I read him his rights he just nodded. Two hours later I told him he could make a phone and he shrugged his shoulders. We booked him and set a suicide watch. The watch said after about 20 minutes he was snoring. I think this one is for the books. Do you want to come up and see what happens this morning as we try again?"

"This I'd like to see. Let me ask the boss man and I'm sure he'll let me go," said Stacy.

Three hours later, Stacy witnessed total silence from Andy Southwin.

 

Enter the Wife

 

On the same day Stacy was at the county jail in Coquille, that same afternoon, Dorothy was allowed to visit her husband. With a guard close by, Andy sat on one side of a wooden table and Dorothy on the other. Both his hands and legs were shackled. He never smiled or said hello. She said, "Andy I've hired an attorney for you. He'll be here later today for your arraignment in front of the judge. He seems like a nice guy from Coos Bay. I've heard that you haven't spoken a word since they arrested you. Why is that?"

First he looked at the guard, then at his hands and after that he looked her in the eye and said, "I've nothing to say. Case closed. Good bye." He stood up and nodded at the guard to take him away. Dorothy had big alligator tears running down her lined cheeks.

What followed was the Coos Bay attorney, Doric Muller to see his client Andy Southwin. Once again Andy was led to the visitor's area. He didn't bother shaking hands with Doric Muller. Andy listened to Muller's spiel about what would take place and so on. Then he said, "Any questions, Mr. Southwin?"

"I've none; and it's my plan to plead guilty as charged; end of story. Good bye Mr. Muller."

A shocked Doric Muller sat there with a blank yellow legal pad. On the way over from Coos Bay to Coquille, a distance of around 18 miles, he'd been counting his money from the displaced Silicon Valley client. Now the best he could hope for was a little pocket money for gas.

 

The Arraignment

 

The next day Andy Southwin stood in front of the judge for his arraignment. The judge asked, "Are you Andrew Southwin of Bandon, Oregon?"

"I am Andrew Southwin of Bandon, Oregon."

"Are you represented by an attorney?''

"No I'm not. I want to represent myself."

"That's not advisable Mr. Southwin. However, you appear of sound mind,'' said the judge.

"I must inform you that you're charged with murder in the first degree," said a stern faced judge. "I now ask you for the record how you plead guilty or not guilty."

"I plead guilty, for the record," said a placid faced Andy.

"Sentencing will take place two weeks from today," said the judge. He stood up and said, "Bail is denied by law and court is adjourned."

It was a mad scramble for the reporters getting out of the court room to send 'breaking news' to their respective media outlets.

 

A Rehash of the Case

 

Stacy, the two state police detectives, Rory and Ben, along with Chief Raymond Foreham, sat around the small lunchroom at the Bandon Police Department discussing the latest news about Andy Southwin regarding his guilty plea.

Rory said, "This will save the state a lot of money with him pleading guilty. I for one commend him for taking it like a true man. By the time April showers are over, he'll be sitting in Salem twiddling his thumbs."

Stacy said, "I still have a funny feeling there's something missing here. Andy doesn't seem to me as a mental case or a wacko. However, to violently kill his girl friend by the method we witnessed beats the heck out of me. Does anyone feel the same as me?"

Rory looked at Ben and then to the chief, and said, "Not really Stacy. People do funny things when angry and at strange times. He made a plan long before he met her in Coos Bay. He took sleeping pills from his insomniac wife, probably crushed them before putting in a cool drink. It wouldn't take long for her to nod off. He places her in the back of his pickup truck with a canopy on it. No doubt he put a tarp over her. From his wife he had empirical knowledge from his years of being with her regarding her sleeping habits. Then he drives from the poker game to the golf course. Loads a groggy girlfriend into a golf cart. He drives to the number 5 tee box. Ties her up so she can't move. Maybe he slaps her to wake her up as we saw a look of fright on her face. He's pissed off she got pregnant. He takes the stolen nine iron and hits the mark. Case closed."

Chief Raymond shakes his head. He says, "I realize it's an open and shut case with the perp admitting guilt. However, I'm like Stacy thinking we might have missed something here."

"Thanks Chief," said Stacy. "In my thinking an opinion, he's protecting someone; like his wife. I'd bet a dollar to a donut she did it. Now I have to get her to confess to save an innocent man."

"Okay Stacy, said Rory, "how did she do it and when did she have opportunity?"

"Before you answer that," said Ben Razor, "I agree with you. If memory serves, she too had a long trip to Coos Bay that Friday before Vicki was murdered."

"Thanks Ben. Yes, she had plenty of time to meet Vicki Strom, drug her and place her in the van she drives while doing golf business. We only have her word for what she did on Friday night. Now going back to Friday she stated she left for Coos Bay shopping late in the morning arriving at lunch time. After lunch she goes shopping for groceries arriving back to the golf course around middle of the afternoon. Now, I know you want to hear how she met up with Vicki at the motel or somewhere in Coos Bay. Here's one thought. Maybe she got Vicki's phone number off Andy's cell phone. Maybe she called the credit card company for his latest charges. A devious mind will find a way to locate the husband's girlfriend. She also finds out she is pregnant which would make her even more angry."

"Lord Stacy," said Rory, ''you make a good case of it. You know I'd hate to be responsible for an innocent man to spend the rest of his life in prison. What we need is a witness who saw Vicki with Mrs. Southwin in Coos Bay."

"Okay, what are you guys waiting for," said Chief Foreham. "Remember this; once they sentence him and he's incarcerated, it's hard or difficult to get him out."

The motel where she stayed was the lower class that wouldn't ask questions or pay much attention to the guests. The other unknown was where she had lunch. It could have been there she mixed the sleeping pills into Vicki's drink. Lastly was the grocery wholesale warehouse. Stacy took the restaurant portion of the search; Rory took the motel and Ben went to the grocery warehouse.

Stacy had the toughest job as she had to hear from Dorothy where she had lunch on that Friday. To make it seem more relaxed, she went home and changed out of her uniform for casual clothes. On the way to the golf course, she racked her brain for a way to introduce where Dorothy had lunch.

She was still looking for an angle when she pulled into the golf course parking lot. She decided to play it by ear and to sympathize with her husband being in jail.

Stacy found Dorothy in the small kitchen preparing for lunch time. She put on a big smile for her with a cheerful good morning. Stacy said, "Hi Mrs. Southwin, I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing."

"Oh, Stacy; I've never seen you without your uniform. You look so attractive in street clothes. Just a minute and I'll join you for a break."

Stacy found a table and noticed the bartender was the cranky old witch that worked part time when Andy wasn't available. Stacy ordered a club soda with a twist of lemon. She paid the unsmiling woman and sat at the table by the window. The place was virtually empty, but it was still early morning for a lunch crowd.

Dorothy came out wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She sat down in a plop exclaiming how tired she was. Stacy sympathized with her and said, "How you doing and how're holding up with Andy behind bars Mrs. Southwin."

"Call me Dot. All my friends call me Dot. I'm not doing so good Stacy. Andy won't talk and he won't have a lawyer. What am I to do?"

"I wish I had an answer for that situation. I hope he can make peace with his God. I'm on leave for a few days and going up the coast for some peace of mind. I don't get out often and I thought I'd hit Coos Bay for lunch. Have you any recommendations of a good place to eat on the way up the coast?"

"Well, when I go grocery shopping I usually stop off at the Golden Goose just as you enter town past the big corner to the right. I had a lovely cob salad awhile back. Another place is between Coos Bay and North bend. It has a strange name of Tiger Lilly, but the food is good. Anyway, I'm happy you stopped by."

"Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you Dot," said Stacy.

"You can plead with Andy to put up a fight. Lord knows he wasn't in his right mind when it happened. The lawyer said to plead not guilty due to insanity or something like that," Dot said.

Armed with some leads, Stacy went home, changed back into her uniform, stopped by the station to tell the chief she was hot on the trail to Coos Bay and the Golden Goose restaurant. He wished her luck. Stacy had received a blow up of a picture from the local newspaper of both Mr. and Mrs. Southwin when they began renovations on the Bandon Links.

Stacy parked a little ways away from the restaurant so as not to scare off the customers seeing a police car out front. Inside she found a young woman tending the cash register. It wasn't busy as it was just after 10 am. After introducing herself, she handed the employee Dorothy's picture saying, "Have you ever seen this woman before. She may have been in here Friday the 11^th of March."

"Well, she does look familiar, but as to the date, let me check my schedule for that time." She dug out her smart phone and scrolled up her work schedule. "Yes, I was here then. Now let me see……" A waitress walked by and looked at the picture the cash attendant was holding. She said:

"I remember her. You should too Sharon. You ran out the door to her van because she forgot her change."

"Yes, she'd given me a twenty and had around five dollars change coming. She'd ordered take out. I got to her van just in time as she was just leaving."

Stacy's heart was racing, she asked, "Was there anyone with her at that time in the passenger seat?"

"Humm, let me think about that." Stacy handed her a picture of Vicki. "Yes, I remember the passenger now. She had a beautiful smile and was drop dead beautiful."

"Now, this is vitally important ladies. Would you swear in a court of law that you saw these two women together on Friday March 11^th," asked Stacy.

"Wow this must be serious, but indeed I would officer," said Sharon Wilson.

"You'll be contacted later to make a statement to the Oregon State Police detective Rory Caltex," said Stacy. "If I'm not mistaken Ms. Wilson, you just saved a man's life." She turned and walked outside with her cell in her hand to call Rory.

Rory and Ben both came to the Golden Goose and met Stacy. The Golden Goose had a small conference room where the four of them sat down to listen to Sharon Wilson's story. By the time they'd finished it was lunch hour. There was no rush to take her formal statement so they had lunch while they waited for the rush hour to end. At a little after 1 pm Rory and Ben took Sharon Wilson to their office for a formal state. In addition, the prosecuting attorney was summoned from Coquille.

By late afternoon they decided to bring Mrs. Southwin in for questioning. Stacy said, as they were all in one office in North Bend, "I have an idea. Mrs. Southwin likes me and maybe I can get her to confess. Otherwise, she might just clam up; what do you think?"

Each looked at each other and all shrugged their shoulders. The prosecutor said, "Why not. We've nothing to lose. If she tries to run let's have some backup though.

 

At the Nineteenth Hole

 

It was just 5:30 pm when Stacy, back in street clothes, entered the Bandon Links club house. A few customers were still drinking at the bar. Dorothy was cleaning the kitchen, as usual. Stacy stuck her head in the kitchen door saying, "Hello again Dot. When you're finished I'd like to talk to you one more time."

Dorothy looked up with a surprised look on her face. Stacy smiled and said, "I had a change of plans. I'll wait for you at a table Dot."

Dorothy without her apron came out looking a little puzzled, Stacy thought. She'd brought a club soda for Stacy and a diet cola for herself. She said, "I thought by now you'd be in Newport."

"I did make it to the Golden Goose Dot. I had a wonderful lunch, by the way. Dot," Stacy said with a serious face, "your husband is sitting in jail protecting you from being charged with the homicide of Vicki Strom. The till attendant remembered you very well as you'd forgotten your change. She ran out to the parking lot and through the driver's window of your van, handed you the change. In addition she saw and swears that she recognized by picture your passenger Vicki Strom. I think Dot you'd like to tell me the story please."

A look of anguish and pain ripped through Dot's face and body. Stacy could see that this woman had some mental problems. Stacy first heard, then saw, the can of cola slowly crumple in her powerful hands. She looked at Stacy with wild eyes and said, "You're a clever girl Stacy. I wanted the bastard to rot in jail for what he did to me. Can you imagine a wife finding out her husband has a mistress that is pregnant? And to top it off, he's going to divorce his wife for this young beauty. No way. I worked too hard to be humiliated like that. My parents are upper crust and would be crushed to find out their only daughter was cast away for a young, whore blackjack dealer from Vegas; I'm not a bit sad or remorseful. My problem is Stacy; investigators like you and the rest of your generation are just too damn good for the average or above average criminal."

"I'm very sorry Dot. I hate the cliché 'it's not a perfect world', but men are led by their testosterone brains. Now, if you want to, tell me the complete story as I'd love to hear how one as clever as you almost pulled off a perfect crime."

"Why not. Maybe the next jilted wife can or will learn from my mistakes. My first discovery was when he came home from Vegas the last time with a grin that wouldn't leave his face. Like you said, men are really stupid. I checked his cell phone records and indeed found the number I was looking for. So for the next few months I kept track of his phone calls and his credit card charges. It was then I saw the travel agents charge for a round trip Vegas to Eugene. It was convenient for me dates and time. Then a back water motel in Coos Bay showed up on his card. Well, I waited for the opportunity to call her. I called early Friday morning telling her I was Andy's housekeeper and I would pick her up at around 10:30 am. She never questioned my story. I packed two of my sleeping pills in my bag and the rest you know. I don’t think it'll be hard for me to play a mentally disturbed wife; in fact I probably am. I'll spend the rest of my life in some mental institution putting puzzles together. Any questions my dear. I know Andy, he'll remain here as there's no other place for him to go."

"No questions Dot. Well, there's one more but to confirm my thinking. I found the broken heel for her shoe up on the new development street. I suppose you put it there for a red hearing?

"Of course," she said smiling smugly. .

"There're police outside waiting to take you away. I thank you for not sacrificing Andy Southwin regardless of what he did," said Stacy.

"I think it's kind of ironic Stacy, when you think about it. I was cooked by the Golden Goose."

 

The Fourth of July

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to the First Annual Fourth of July Golf Tournament. I'm your host Andy Southwin. At the Old Bandon Links we're proud to say we have a fully booked tournament scheduled with some wonderful prizes that were donated by local and regional sponsors.

On the first tee our 'dew sweepers' as usual are first to tee off. First to hit will be Gladys Wainleft, second is Betty Flowers, third is Lois Long and last but not least, Veronica Stevens. Hit away ladies."

Stacy was standing off to the side enjoying the warmish summer day with Rory Caltex. If nothing else, they silently agreed to be civil and polite to each other. Stacy said, "Andy looks good considering the events that have unfolded since March."

"I'd think it takes a strong person to weather the storm like he has. I understand he's filed for divorce. Dorothy, as you well know, was certified insane. It's doubtful she'll see the light of day," said Rory as Gladys hit a high sweeping hook into the gorse to begin her tournament.

"I was happy Rory to see our townspeople support Andy even though he really isn't a long term resident yet."

Rory started to say something when a vibration tickled his leg. He moved off digging out his cell. He cupped his hands over his mouth and 30 seconds later was back standing by Stacy. "Hey partner, we've got to go; a body just washed up at Sunset Bay. The caller said a spear from a spear gun has pierced clean through the body."

 

The End

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

Next up is a twist and turner trying to determine who killed the guy, stuck him naked upside down in a trashcan and then super glued his feet against the back wall of a convenience store.

 

 

Superglue Nightmare

 

Stacy Foreham Novella

 

2013

 

For police officer Stacy Foreham, it was a severe let down after the Bandon Links murder that put away an insane woman for life. The days that followed were mundane without interest. She was moping around the police station searching for something to do. Her father, Chief Raymond Foreham worried about his daughter. He'd tried various things to bring her out of the doldrums. Such as, public school lectures; church activities and some law enforcement seminars up in Salem.

However, unknown to Stacy, the action was just around the corner. Rory Caltex, a detective with the Oregon State Police, with an office in North Bend, was about to call her with news of a homicide. But when she first saw the familiar phone number Stacy wasn't too excited as ever since the last homicide case closed, Rory had been trying to become friends with her. Sadly for him, she at only 23 and fresh out of the university; and he at 31, was too old for her. Besides she wanted her work to reside on a professional level not with personal strings attached.

Reluctant to answer, but then curiosity prevailed, Rory said, "Stacy, we've got a suspicious death in your neighbor. We got a call from a small convenience store south of Bandon about 5 miles on 101. The information is sketchy as the person calling was fairly shook up. It seems she went out back to dump some trash and found a body sticking head down in a garbage can. She also said the shoeless feet were stuck against the side of the building. I'm in my vehicle now and if you've nothing to do, I'll pick you up in 20 minutes."

"I'm ready. I'm so bored I could investigate a dead cat. See you soon," she said. While she waited, she reflected on her University of Chicago criminology degree. Indeed she was heavily recruited by the FBI and other agencies. But, she decided to spend a few years at home with her father learning police tactics on the street level. There was always time for changing and or relocating.

She alerted the chief to what and where she was going. He told her to be careful. "There're some rough folks that live that way. Nothing major but drunken brawls, petty thievery, and some drug abuse. The 'God father' is a guy by the name of Slim Perkins. Nothing that goes on in that area, where the Beach Loop Road comes out to 101, that he doesn't know about."

"I'll keep that in the front of my mind chief." Stacy hurried to the restroom and ran a comb through her short blond hair. Other than a pale red gloss on her full lips, she wore no other makeup. By the time she'd finished, and picked up her black homicide bag, Rory was in the parking lot waiting for her. He knew better than to honk his horn as she'd blasted his redneck attitude on the last case to last a life time. He was on his best behavior with her. He accepted the fact she out brained him, but in his own way, he had some experience to draw from.

Stacy got in the back as Ben Razor, Rory's partner was riding shotgun. Ben was a quiet man, but always thinking. He saw things others didn't. He told Stacy a good morning as they drove off south quickly leaving town. It was the middle of August on the southern Pacific Ocean. However, even in August one needed a light windbreaker to ward off the onshore wind just a few miles away. Be that as it may, the day was clear with a bright sun shining down on the ubiquitous cranberry bogs that make Bandon so famous. Stacy was proud of the cranberry industry as they drove past the bogs that had been there for more than a hundred years.

Rory said, "Stacy, are you listening. I said, do you know much about the little store we're going to?"

''A little bit. It's been in the Perkins family for as long as anyone can remember. At one time it did a lot of business selling groceries and gas. Also they had fishing supplies. But like a lot of mom and pop stores, towns offered more goods at less price. The last time I was there beer, soft drinks and junk food was about all you could hope for. It still stays open late for beer and such things. I guess a member of the Perkins clan called the crime in."

"Well, we're here," as Rory pulled into the large gravel parking lot. "Let's go see what we have," said Rory.

Stacy had her black bag with her. She already had on latex gloves in preparation for crime scene work. A young woman was standing at the southern corner of the building with one arm wrapped around her chest and the other hand covering her mouth as if to keep from screaming. As the investigators approached, she pointed to the east, or behind the building. All three made sure they didn't track up the crime scene so they walked in each other's foot prints.

True to the caller's word, two hairy legs stuck up out of a plastic garbage can with the bottom feet stuck against the wood wall. All three police officers stayed back waiting for the pathologist Dr. Marsha Stone to arrive. Meanwhile from a distance Stacy used her smart phone and took some pictures of her own. Rory and Ben were interviewing the young woman. After the picture taking Stacy carefully looked around the area noting everything. The back of the building was a receptacle for any and all cast away junk. There was everything from used coolers, tires and old boards, just to name a few things she witnessed. She heard a few roosters crowing some distance away.

Off in among the coastal pine trees she could see a few old houses stuck here and there. She was fairly sure this was part or the whole of the Perkins property. The feeling she got was one of foreboding, along with just making her skin crawl. She broke from her reverie when she heard the voice of Dr. Stone approaching with her assistant. Stacy moved closer and gave a friendly wave to Dr. Stone. The investigation began with the picture taking as usual.

With her sharp eyes, Stacy looked closely at the trash can from the bottom up and its relationship to the other cans. There were four trash cans total. There were two plastic and two old metal rusty looking cans. One plastic had a lid and the plastic can with the body sticking out had its lid carelessly thrown aside. She thought what a mess for fingerprints. However, if one of the Perkins families had a record, then prints would be readily discovered.

Once the pictures were complete, the assistant fetched a short step ladder to let Dr. Stone have a closer look at the feet against the wall as to what held the feet upright. When the step ladder arrived, Dr. Stone had a tool in her hand from her bag. She climbed two steps up and stuck the tool between the foot and the wooden wall. "It appears as if it's glued to the wall," she said while trying to pry the foot away from the wood. "I think its super glue as it seems to be tearing the skin as I pry it."

"Super glue," Rory exclaimed. "Now that's a new one for the books. A body stuck head first in a trash can with his feet super glued to the wall to keep it upright."

"I'm more than curious now as to what we'll find at the bottom of the trash can," said Stacy. She turned her attention as to why after someone killed this person, stick him in a trash can. Why not just take him down the road and dump him in a tall grass ditch. Speaking of tall grass, she thought, searching for evidence around the back of the store with grass knee high would be time consuming.

"Damn, I'm afraid he'll lose his skin, but that's not much of a loss. Fred, hold the leg as it comes loose," said Dr. Stone. "Okay, that's one now the other leg." She reached out and more quickly this time prised the foot from the wall. Indeed patches of skin were left on the wall, but not as much as one would think. Fred let the legs down slowly and trash can and all lay horizontal on the ground.

"Now let's slowly take him out of the trash can," said Dr. Stone. She held the trash can and Fred slowly pulled the body out onto a tarp that had been placed for that purpose. Stacy from 10 feet away, watched as a rather short lean adult male lay on the tarp. He was buck naked and very hairy. About the only place that was vacant of hair was on his face and on top of his head. It was fairly common these days to have your head shaved if you were a male.

Fred rolled him over onto his back. Dr. Stone went to work doing her job as a forensic pathologist. She began at the top of the head and worked down. "My God, the man has super glue in his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It will make the cause of death interesting," she said. She continued her examination. When she arrived at his crotch, she said, "His penis has super glue on the opening." After that she quickly finished up giving orders to bag the body for the coming autopsy.

As they were bagging the body, the local sheriff arrived. Stacy knew of him, but had never been formally introduced. Her father didn't like the sheriff much. He'd told her his was an egotistical outspoken sheriff who ran his deputies with an iron tongue and fist. He said rather grouchily, "No one calls me and I have to discover someone has been murdered in my county by second hand messenger. I really think someone owes me an explanation," said Sheriff Clinton Yeast.

"Sheriff Yeast, as you well know, a homicide is attended by the state police," said Rory not backing down in the slightest. This location is on State Highway 101. If this homicide was on a country road, then yes, you would have first crack at it, but as you again know, we'd take over."

"A little common courtesy would be nice," said a more relaxed sheriff. He hitched his pants up a notch. Then with eyes darting everywhere, landed on Stacy. He said, "And what are you doing here officer Foreham?" He had squinted to see her name on her uniform.

"I'm just an observer and interested Bandon police officer. Do you have any objection Sheriff Yeast," retorted Stacy.

"You're the chief's daughter," he chuckled.

"One in the same. What is your oldest son doing now days Sheriff," asked Stacy. It was rumored his son was in drug rehab or just out; she wasn't sure which.

Sheriff Yeast's face turned beet red. He turned on his heels and left throwing some end of the parking lot gravel as he sped away.

"You really know how to make friends Stacy," said Dr. Stone

"Yes, don't I. I remember his son is about my age. He was hell on wheels. Always in trouble and his dad always bailing him out. You might remember, his sister was crying rape a few years ago. She claimed one of the Perkins boys caught her and a friend at the beach. The boy claimed it was consensual, but the case was dropped," said Stacy.

"Well, I'm off to the office detectives. I've a fairly light schedule so will do the autopsy tomorrow around noon," said Dr. Stone. Stacy said she'd be there. Today was Thursday the 12^th and tomorrow was Friday the 13^th. Never one to be superstitious Stacy shrugged the notion off.

The fingerprint guys were beginning their work. Rory, Ben and Stacy started the ground search for anything out of the ordinary. Two hours later they'd found nothing of any substance. Stacy walked around to the front of the store and entered to talk to the girl. Dee Perkins was on her cell talking to a friend when Stacy walked in. She quickly hung up and tried to smile. Stacy asked her name. "I'm Dee Perkins. I made the call. I'm really scared. My daddy told me to be brave and he'd come down later after he fed the chickens."

Stacy told her she was Bandon police helping the state police. "Do you know who the victim is by chance? I realize his face was in the trash can, but maybe you saw enough to recognize him?"

"No I didn't see his face; only his legs. I ran back and called the police 911 in North Bend. We've the phone number on the wall if a problem occurs. We don't much like the sheriff as he's such a loud mouth," Dee said.

"What time did you open up the store?"

"At 7 am my usual time. I gathered up the trash, set it by the door, afterwards made sure all the coolers were working. Next I made ready the cash drawer. A customer or two came in so I didn't get around to taking the garbage out till around 8:30. When I walked around the store to dump the trash that's when I saw the two legs sticking out of the trash can. At first I thought it was a store mannequin that someone was playing a joke on me. Then I saw the real hair on his legs. I ran like hell to the phone."

"Who worked the night shift and what time does the store close at night," asked Stacy.

"My cousin Bev Perkins works the night shift till 11 pm. You'd better talk to her about that. I knew you'd ask that so I wrote down her phone number for you," said a now more relaxed Dee.

The door bell jangled alerting both women someone was coming in. As it turned out it was Dee's father Stan Perkins. For Stacy it was hard to determine his age as he was dark skinned, bearded with even darker eyes staring over his long sharp nose. She guessed mid forties as he said, "Why is it girl that trouble just seems to follow you," asked a gruff gravelly voiced Stan.

"Hey pa, I didn't kill the dude. I just found him doing my job," said a shaky voiced Dee. Stacy could tell Dee was scared of her father.

His dark brooding eyes found Stacy and said, "I know who you are. You're the daughter of that no good police chief in town. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm helping the state police find out who killed the man found in your trash can Mr. Perkins. I'm positive the detective in charge will want your statement very soon now," said Stacy as the bell rang and in walked Rory Caltex. Stacy inwardly smiled as she saw Stan Perkins come to attention.

In the back room, where the storage of empty and cases of full soda and beer were hap hazard stacked around, they took Stan Perkins statement. The smell was of stale beer and cigarettes; with a touch of disinfectant. Rory asked, "Mr. Perkins tell me your movements from late yesterday afternoon until this morning,"

"Yesterday afternoon I was up at agate beach searching for agates. My brother Amos was with me. We got back home here around 7 pm. I ate dinner with the family. Then I went out and fed the dogs and chickens. Let's see now, I got a call from my father Slim Perkins to visit him. By this time it was after 9 I'd guess. My father wanted me to go down the coast today and pick up some myrtle wood chunks for making lamps for the Cranberry Festival coming soon. We talked and drank a few beers until midnight. I walked home and went to bed. I got up at my usual 6 am. I got a call from Dee around 8:30 to tell me a dead man was in the trash can."

"Here's a picture of the dead man. Do you recognize him by chance,'' asked Rory showing Stan a picture taken with his smart phone.

"I'm not sure if I do or not. He seems familiar, but I need a better picture to make sure. A man came by last week looking for some work. I sent him up to the bogs. He seemed kind of shifty to me. Not sure if it's the same guy or not. No matter he never gave me his name anyway," said Stan.

"Was your brother Amos with you at your father's house last night," asked Rory.

"Yes he sure was. Another neighbor Jewel Noches was also there drinking with my father. He doesn't have a phone, but I can go get him if you want me to," said an eager to please Stan Perkins.

"Yes, please do and your father also. Is Amos Perkins around this morning," asked Rory.

"I can get Jewel and Amos but father is wheel chair bound. You'd best go see him as he can get real cranky sometimes," said Stan.

"We'll wait for your brother Amos and Jewel to come before we visit your father," said Rory.

Amos was a carbon copy of his brother Stan, only older. Jewel Noches was an old timer with Spanish blood flowing through his visible veins that stood out prominently. Stacy thought he could be 50 or 80. However, his English was fairly good.

First it was Amos who confirmed they had been agate hunting for the clear rocks. Also meeting at father's house and drinking till midnight. Both Stacy and Rory knew they would of course, alibi for each other. If push came to shove they would need to find witnesses to the agate hunt and from dinner time till midnight.

Jewel confirmed the two Perkins brothers were with him last night at Slim's house. Again that alibi would not be acceptable if a prime suspect arose out of the investigation that any of the Perkins were suspected.

Both Rory and Stacy went outside to see if Ben had discovered anything interesting. Ben was still looking around when Rory asked him if he was about finished. He held up a baggie and both Stacy and Rory looked through the clear plastic Ziploc. Inside was a shinny key chain with a car key attached.

Ben said, "It must have been recently dropped as there's no rust yet on the key chain. I found it just 30 inches from the trash can under a piece of cardboard. As you can see the chain is worn in a few places where if it had been laying here for a long time, rust would surely have been visible."

"Good work Ben," said Stacy. He smiled and walked off. He was so shy, but he always had his nose to the grind stone.

 

Slim Perkins was a real piece of work, some young folks would say, thought Stacy, as they walked out of the stuffy, house that smelled like old people who hadn't washed in awhile. She was happy to leave the place. To say he was a cranky old timer would be an understatement.

When they walked in following Stan, he sat in an old wooden framed wheel chair next to the kitchen table. He had one arm resting on the old table and the other under his lap blanket. To Stacy he appeared playing with his crotch. He saw her looking at his lap and with a toothless mouth, smiled.

After introductions, still standing, Rory asked, "Mr. Perkins, at what time last night did you see your two sons?"

"Not sure," said a deep voice. "It was maybe around 8 or 9. I don't check the time much; nor the date or month.

"What time did they leave," asked Rory.

"Maybe midnight. That's about when I go to bed."

Rory walked up and showed him a picture of the dead man on his cell phone. He asked, "Have you ever seen this man?"

Slim put on his glasses. Took a quick look and said, "Nope, never seen the guy before." Then he looked up and saw Stacy. He took a second look after the crotch shot and said, "Are you Chief Shit Heads kin?"

"I sure am, Mr. Perkins. If you or any of your kin are involved, trust me, I'll find the truth as to who killed the man."

"You talk big for a little girl. Maybe someday I'll show you what a real man can do for a girl like you," said a grinning Slim Perkins.

"I doubt what you have beneath the lap blanket would interest me. I prefer nothing shriveled thank you," said a smiling Stacy.

Slim Perkins faced turned a shade of red unseen by his family before. Stan's face turned white. When he returned to being able to respond, he said, "I tell you what girl. You bring the Viagra and I'll show you some bounce for buck."

All three police officers walked out.

 

 

The 'Y' Incision

 

The next morning was spent briefing the chief on the case so far. His interest piqued when she mentioned Slim and Jewels names. After her detailed report she asked him about Stan and Amos Perkins. Chief Ray sat back in his squeaky desk and said:

"Stan Perkins was caught more than one time for petty theft. Actually he makes really nice lamps out of myrtle wood. His lamps are unique as he artfully places agates so when the light is on, a variety of colors are reflected. He hates to buy the wood so he's been caught stealing chunks of wood from different suppliers.

Amos Perkins is a strange one. Like Stan he raises chickens and especially fighting cocks. Yes, it's illegal for sure, but these guys are clever to hide their cockfights. He married a Hampshire girl from Port Orford. Well for that matter so did Stan. The Perkins and Hampshire's are like two peas in a pod.

They seem to run in the same circles. Both were champions of the welfare system; that's why both families have so many kids running around. Old man Hampshire kicked the bucket some years ago so Slim heads up both families. The Hampshire's are damn good mechanics. They find old beaters, fix them up and sell for a few hundred more than they paid for them."

Chief, what about Sheriff Yeast. He stopped by in a huff from not having been notified of a crime. Can you refresh my memory on the rape charge the sheriff's daughter said occurred with one of the Perkins boys," asked Stacy.

"I still wonder about that. There were two girls and two boys on the beach having a party down by Devils Kitchen. The girls were supposed to be home by midnight and neither one showed up. The sheriff sent a car to Devils Kitchen to see what was what. He found all of them passed out. The sheriff's daughter was laying there with no panties on. When woke up she cried rape. The doctor said there was no evidence of intercourse. However she said he used a condom and buried it in the sand. Anyway, it blew over."

"I got to go Chief. Dr. Stone is performing the autopsy around noon time. Rory will bring Stan Perkins to see if he can identify the victim."

"Be careful of the Perkins bunch officer. They are not nice people. They've forty acres with most of it in Scotch broom. They said many years ago more than one person is buried out there. During the prohibition times the Perkins were well known for their white lighting."

In Dr. Stone's autopsy room, she was just beginning the procedure. Rory had had Stan Perkins look at the body, but he shook his head that he'd never seen the man before. Ben took him back home to Bandon. The prints had been run through the system, but no record found. Dr. Stone had used acetone on the super glue to look at the eyes, ears nose and penis. The shaved head was full of scabs where the razor had made its dullness known. The ears were full of wax. The nose was so full of black hair it was wonder he could breathe through it. His mouth was full of rotten teeth. The overall examination suggested a street person. To Stacy it wasn't uncommon for homeless and others to follow the roads near the Pacific Ocean.

Dr. Stone was bent over the pelvic region. She wondered why anyone would super glue the opening of the penis on this man. His testicles appeared a little bigger than normal. Dr. Stone stood up and looked at Stacy. "I'll confirm or deny, that this victim was either made to masturbate or someone did it for him with the end of the penis sealed up with glue, when I get inside. Meanwhile let's get on with it.

Late that afternoon Dr. Stone sat with Rory, Ben and Stacy discussing the autopsy. Dr. Stone said, "He died of suffocation at around 2 or 3 am. There's no evidence of any blunt force trauma anywhere on his body. We'll do a toxic drug scan as usual. That he was undernourished is obvious. The victim did show some evidence of having been brought to the point of ejaculation. A swelling of the prostate and other signs confirm that idea. In addition, as I mentioned earlier, there's evidence of sodomy. I've some semen sample for DNA. The why is for you detectives to find out? I'll have a full report in a day or so."

"Well fellow investigators, we've a body of an alleged homeless man with no record of fingerprints. He was suffocated by super glue in all orifices, except the anus. He's found upside down in a trash can outside a small country store with his feet glued to the wall. The store and property is owned by some hillbilly from way back. I can see opportunity no problem, but motive, is another story. Did someone just have it out for a dirty street person; or was he in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was looking for a place to take a snooze. I saw no lights on the back outside so maybe he was both hungry and needed a place to rack out," said Rory.

"I've a question people. Where are the containers of the super glue," asked Stacy. "Did anyone find them amongst the trash?"

 

Mixed Signals

 

Stacy and her father sat talking in the living room Friday evening the 13^th. As usual, he had the TV on without sound. Stacy recognized the smiling newscaster flapping his gums about some news few cared to hear about. Father said, "Stacy, like the last case at the golf course, you've a victim that is unknown. Without some ID, which is probably with his clothes somewhere, it's remote you'll find out his identity. What's your thinking?"

"Well, I'm not sure we need to ID the victim for the time being. One thing is for sure, the perp is a pervert or a violent person who hates gays. One scenario might go like this: male stops at the small store to relieve himself behind the building. He's been drinking. The homeless man is startled by a guy urinating not far from him. The perp gets rough with the victim. What transpires is unknown but the victim is sexually assaulted, murdered and stuffed into the trash can. It might be that two guys did the deed," said Stacy.

"We could play 'guess what happened' all night long, but finding the murderer will take patience and a plodding effort. I think finding his clothes shouldn't be difficult. I'd search down towards the south if it was me. Also, you might find the super glue containers along the way. Finger prints are waiting to be found, my super sleuth daughter."

Saturday was foggy as all get out. Stacy was wondering how she could look for a bag of clothes while driving down the road. She decided that wouldn't be very safe or a good idea at all. What she needed was a partner to drive the car and she would scan the side of the road. Rory's SUV would be best at it sat up higher than her police car. She dialed him up. He answered rather sleepy. Stacy said, "Sorry to wake you up, but we're burning daylight. We've a case to solve and the sooner you drive down here the better. I've an idea and need your vehicle and a driver. Meet me at the station. Bye bye sleepy head."

Rory rolled out of bed, scratched his head, stood up and slowly walked to the bathroom. Once in the shower he began to wake up. Her voice still rang in his head. She got to him, big time. He hurt every time he thought or when he saw her. Lord, he had it bad. The worst part is he couldn't tell anyone. The last girlfriend he had run back to Salem to her old boyfriend leaving him totally embarrassed. It was no good to have relationships with co-workers; he understood that, but it was so hard working together not to cross the invisible line of desire.

He shaved and sprinkled on some Old Spice; his dad's favorite. He liked to be reminded of his father who was a dedicated fireman. He dressed in blue jeans, polo shirt and a pull over sweater. However, he kept his penny loafers always shined up ready to go. He loved his shoes. He hated the thought that maybe someday the government might stop making pennies. Secretly, to be on the safe side, he went to the bank and bought ten rolls of new pennies. He smiled at that thought, as he walked out the door.

It was slow going in the thick fog. By the time he arrived in Bandon, Stacy was beginning to fume. She settled down when he said he would buy breakfast. She realized that she hadn't thought to eat and felt her stomach growling. She ordered a crab omelet. He told the waitress to make it two.

"Okay, what is with the needing a chauffeur all about. I've a day off and you come up with needing me to drive you around?"

Stacy sipped her tea. "I think, or my chief thinks, the perp threw out the clothes so as to keep us from identifying him and maybe the super glue containers. He said to look to the south on 101. I'll look in the ditch while you slowly drive down the road. Good idea, huh?"

"I'll not tell anyone if you won't. Let's not let this get around we're driving down the road looking in the ditch for evidence. But, beats sitting around watching a boring baseball game on the tube," he said while taking his first bite of omelet.

 

Ditch Diving

 

Just for curiosity sake, they decided to stop in at the murder site to see what was happening in the store. Stacy went in for some soft drinks. She found Dee on her cell phone chatting away with a friend. Stacy paid and left thinking so much for that idea.

It was about 20 miles to Langlois on 101 south. With the heavy fog, Rory had both his flashers and police lights on. His fear was some crazy driver slamming into the rear of him. A half mile down the road, Stacy ran the window down. Rory turned on the heater as the fog was a bit chilly. He did his best to hug the side of the road while she peered out the window.

After a few miles, she said, "You know, it's surprising that there's not so much trash thrown out these days."

"Have you seen anything yet," asked Rory.

"Nothing to stop and look at," she said. Her nose was getting frozen. By now she looked like Rudolph, Santa's famous Reindeer. About three miles down the highway, a gravel pull off area appeared. It was big enough for cars with travel trailers to pull off and let the traffic go by. Rory pulled off and slowly went to the west side while Stacy looked. She said, "Wait a minute Rory. There's a pile of trash next to the states garbage receptacle."

She jumped out and put on some latex gloves. She dug through the sacks. Not so deep she saw some clothes. Her heart began to race a bit. Sure enough, it was a tied up roll of clothes that someone had stuck under the garbage. She hollered at Rory who came with his usual long strides. Both stood there looking down at the dirty clothes. "Could we be so lucky Rory," she said.

"Well, let's place it in the back of the SUV in a garbage sack. Then I guess we'll both paw through the rest of this stuff seeing if we can find the super glue containers. I'd guess it took at least two small containers to seal the deal," he said laughing.

"That's sick Rory," said Stacy as they carefully tucked the clothes into a plastic garbage sack. "Let's see if our luck holds coming across the glue containers."

Piece by piece of trash was methodically gone through. Rory's back was hurting so he walked the side of the pull out just in case he saw something in the brush. As he was about to turn around, he saw a plastic sack with an Ace Hardware written on it. With a pair of needle nose pliers, he picked the sack up. He took a pen out of his pocket and spread the sack open. In the sack were three super glue containers. He let out a big belly laugh saying, "Stacy, I found the containers. Stop looking if you want to."

Stacy kept digging and low and behold, a worn black wallet lay there open showing a driver's license with a picture of the dead man looking up at her. She too, had a pair of needle nose pliers. She fished out a baggie and dropped the wallet inside. She took a permanent marker and place date, time and location on the Ziploc. Rory walked up grinning from ear to ear showing his find to Stacy. Stacy smiled back and showed him her discovery. Both cracked up laughing. He offered a high five and she accepted.

On the way back to the police station, they talked about their luck finding the clothes and the victim's wallet. "It's clear that the perp drove south after killing the John Doe. Would that be in his plan to lead us to think he left the county and the state," said Rory.

"No way of knowing but the license I saw was issued from Oregon. I find it difficult to believe the perp fled south to California. In my opinion, he is from this area or at least familiar with the location of the store. Two things, one did he stop to relieve himself or did he stop to meet someone," asked Stacy.

"The Perkins dwellings are quite some distance back of the store. If the perp stopped to relieve himself, he'd know nobody would or could view him from the back property or from the highway. Let's keep an open mind," said Rory.

Stacy was quiet the rest of the way to town thinking hard. She was reviewing the murder scene and the subsequent interview with the Perkins tribe. Never one to discount that the Perkins family weren't still suspects, but it seemed at this point, doubtful. Be that as it may, a motive was yet to be discovered. On the plus side was the fact they'd DNA from the perp. Or it was possible that there were two perps?

It was not yet noon. On the way back the fog began to lift. When they hit Bandon the sun was out in all its glory basking the southern coast with late summer colors. Stacy saw it first; and said, "Its Sheriff Yeast's car. What is he doing here? I know for a fact he and the chief don't see eye to eye on anything. Hey Rory, let's keep the evidence inside your car for the time being. Our story is we've been out searching for evidence but came up empty handed."

"Sounds good to me. What we could do is this -- I'll drop you off --you drive up to my office where we can sift through the evidence," said Rory.

"Great idea. I'll leave a note for the chief," said Stacy as she got out and waved to him as he motored north.

Inside the station, the chief's door was closed. She wrote a quick note, left it with Flo, the dispatcher and girl Friday. She didn't want to miss anything so she tried not to break the speed limit.

She breathlessly strode into the state police office in North Bend. Ben and Rory, along with the captain were eating pizza. Rory said, "You didn't think we'd wait for you, did you?"

"Speaking truthfully, no I didn't. And if you were all thinking of me, then you must have saved a couple pieces of pizza for me," she said smiling showing off her perfect white teeth. Rory was watching her and almost bit his thumb watching her approach the table. He knew he had it bad.

After lunch they moved to another room where tables and various other things were available for evidence examination. All were gloved. Rory picked up the trash bag with the clothes in it. Slowly they used long tongs to lay out the clothes. When it all lay before their eyes, Stacy tried to place the body inside the clothes. A fairly nice long sleeve button up shirt, a not so new or clean blue jeans, socks that were at one time white, but now more grey than white. The shoes were the best part as they appeared fairly new. They were dirty yes, but the soles were not so worn. A dark blue hoodie protected him from the elements.

Rory said, "We'll let the technicians check for any foreign material. Let's see what the wallet has to offer. At a smaller stainless steel table, the wallet was the point of interest. The license was housed in the place where a clear plastic pouch was specifically designed for ID purposes. Without removing it, Rory handed a magnifying glass to Stacy.

She saw the face of an adult male. His name was Glen Wilson, age 26 from Portland. He was 5' 6" tall and weighed 145 lbs. In another pouch were a SS card and a few business cards. They'd examine those later. They were all shocked when she opened up the pouch that held paper money. There were four new one hundred dollar bills and three used one dollar bills. "Now this is certainly something I never would have thought would be inside this beat up old wallet," said Stacy.

"Okay guys, this changes our perception of the motive or maybe it's our clue to follow. Banks usually keep serial numbers of new hundred dollar bills, so let's go in that direction first off. I'll get some folks on the serial numbers pronto. As for the clothes, maybe we can find some foreign material to do a match with. I'll send this stuff to Portland. Okay, now having said that, what else do we need to do," asked Rory.

"Okay, why would this transient appearing person have four hundred dollars bills in his wallet? But first we must check his SS records for employment and of course the address on the license, hopefully, it's his current address. Also, if he had a car, where's the car? Ben found the key chain next to the trash can, but sometimes guys will have a key in the ignition and another key to open the door with. Maybe someone drove his car off. And if he had a car, he'd be sleeping in it and not behind the store. Anyone have anything to add to this," asked Stacy.

Ben said, "I think he had a car. I also think he met someone there or was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he interrupted a drug deal. There're lots of speculation and few facts here. First we check his home address; then his last work place or places; and lastly, see if he has any family or friends. Oh, forgot one, someone must know if he had a car."

 

 

Jack of all Trades, Master of Two or Three

 

Sunday wasn't a day of rest for the Stacy and the two detectives. The key on the chain told them Glen Wilson, presumably, drove an older Chevrolet. The vintage ranged from the 70s through the mid 80s. It wasn't until Monday that they could run Glen through DMV. The team broke up in three directions: Ben would take the Coos Bay area to see if anyone had recently acquired an old car at the local junk yards and at the lower cost car lots. Rory took Coquille and then on down to Bandon where he and Stacy would go south to look for an old car sitting around somewhere.

Ben knew it was just an excuse for Rory to drive around on Sunday with his heart on his sleeve. He'd make a quick tour of the junk yards and go home to the wife and kids.

While waiting for Rory, Stacy sat at home with her father discussing the case. He asked, "Start at the beginning and run it through up until today."

Stacy took a deep and gave off a small sigh, "A 911 call came in from Dee Perkins at the small store where the Beach Loop Road meets 101. The store has been in the family for more than one generation. The caller was taking some trash out back to the cans around 8 am or a little after. She saw a pair of hairy legs sticking out of trash can with the feet somehow attached to the wooden siding. When we arrived we saw a dead man head down in a plastic trash can with his feet stuck to the wall. It was later established it was super glue. As a matter of fact, the autopsy revealed super glue in all orifices except the anus; including the eyes. He died of suffocation.

At first he appeared a homeless vagrant, but later we discovered his ID with his home address. We also think he has a vehicle. A key chain was found very close to the body. We're looking into his SS number, home address and any family or friends. In his wallet were four hundred dollar bills in successive serial number. Additionally there were a few worn dollar bills.

One more thing, he was sodomized. I'm not sure if that is relevant or not. It's my belief he was meeting someone there. Obviously if he did meet someone there, they weren't his friend or friends. Was it a drug buy? Was it a shake down? Or was it just a spur of the moment fun and games? What do you think dad?"

"You didn't mention both Amos and Stan's kids. I'm not sure their ages, but have you interviewed them yet?"

"No, not yet. It's part of our plan today to see the Perkins clan. We know both sons of Amos and Stan work the swing shift at the cranberry factory. We did run them through the system and nothing came up but some petty shoplifting many years ago."

"Regardless, I think, for the most part, this homicide and sexual assault is most complex. I see many threads and few leads coming from the investigation so far. You need a tie in to have something to sink your teeth into. You've got some solid things to investigate with the ID of the victim. Dig deep, my daughter. If I'm not mistaken, your ride is here," said Ray Foreham.

Down south in Langlois, population less than 200, a small bit of information came to Stacy and Rory's way. A guy pumping gas saw a strange van go by and then turn up the hill. It never came back while he was on shift. He added, "I'd guess it was around 3 am. I was a little sleepy, but did see a vehicle pass by."

They went on down to Port Orford, had lunch and came back to Bandon with the idea of interviewing the two Perkins guys Junior and Eddie.

They turned right just past the store and followed a gravel road to the first house where Stan Perkins lived with his wife, Francis, son Junior and daughter Bessie. Dee, also a daughter didn't get along with her mother so she stayed with Jewel Noches.

When they pulled up the dogs starting barking alerting all in the house they had visitors. The dogs were chained up, but to Stacy, they looked like they could break any chain if they really wanted to. She didn't recognize the breed but they certainly looked big and nasty. Rory knocked on the screen door.

Francis answered the door without smiling. Rory asked if they might come in and talk to her son Junior. She opened the door wide and let them pass by without a word.

Junior was lying on the couch watching a baseball game. His mother said, "Junior someone to see you. Get up and act like a human for a change." She turned her head and screamed, "Bessie, you're wanted in the living room."