CLAIRE AND GUY consumed a quick sandwich at the lodge and then decided to hole up for the remainder of the day in their room. Jay supplied them with two laptop computers from the lodge. It was time to conduct several background checks. But first, the sleuths reviewed their findings at Blake’s flat: the fact that he was a zealous reader; his insatiable craving to inhale everything he could find relating to the Blackfoot and Flathead Indian tribes of the area; and that haunting, sweet aroma of fresh lilacs emanating from the arrangement in the Mason jar on his kitchen table, the perfume vial found in his bathroom medicine cabinet, and the sheets of his bed. There was also the discovery of the two coffee mugs in his sink.
Claire was convinced that if they could find the female who had spent time at his apartment—and between his sheets—the now-unidentified woman might shed crucial light on the investigation. The fingerprints lifted from the flat would prove to be very enlightening if they belonged to someone on their suspect list.
The sleuths also reviewed their notes to determine which lodge employees warranted a closer look.
“The sheriff should be getting back to us shortly regarding whether any of the staff fingerprints or palm prints matched those lifted from the lobby,” Claire said. “Can’t wait to hear what they come up with.”
“Jay told me they do not complete background checks on the people they hire, so when we were at Mr. Helms’s apartment, I asked Sheriff Bell to run a criminal background check on each of the employees. That could prove interesting, as well,” Guy said.
“Good thinking, counselor. Did you include Jay in that request?” Claire asked.
“I did. And Piper and Lois Whiting, too. As we’ve said, everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. “
Guy picked up his cell and called Sheriff Bell. There was no answer, so he left a message. “We’re anxious to hear the test results today of the print comparisons involving the lodge personnel and owners and the prints lifted from Mr. Helms’s flat. Also, whether anything interesting shows up on those criminal background checks. Please give us a call as soon as you have anything. Thanks.”
“I’m holding my breath,” Claire said. “It’s very possible that things are about to break wide open.”
“Yeah. If they can only find a match …”
Their eyes locked. No words were necessary.
THE TWO divided up the work to be done, and the investigators got busy. Claire had a strong sense that something in the case would soon help them zero in on the killer.
Hours passed as the sleuths sought background information on the lodge employees most in question. They made countless phone inquiries; conducted numerous Internet searches; checked Facebook, Linkedln, and other social media outlets; called friends in high places to ask for favors; and checked court records with the clerks of court—all the while frantically scribbling notes. The two stayed in opposite corners of the room, as if an invisible line divided them, and worked without ceasing until Claire finally broke the silence.
“There’s something funny about Heidi Flynn,” she announced suddenly.
“What’d you find?” Guy asked, looking up from his computer.
“Well, I’ve found hints of a checkered past. She and some of her friends back in Iowa were arrested in connection with several home burglaries. It was many years ago, and I can’t tell if it resulted in an indictment for her. She may have testified against them, actually. Not sure. Something happened. Records are sketchy. Maybe the sheriff will be able to enlighten us.”
“Did you find anything on her father?” Guy asked.
“Still looking,” Claire said.
“Are you ready for what I found?” Guy asked. “Jay was charged with an assault a couple years ago. He got into a brawl with someone at a gas station. Not a lot of details are public. Looks as if he may have beaten the charge. We’ll have to see what the criminal background check shows.”
“Okay. I’m surprised. But let’s wait until we find out more about it before we pass judgment. We always say things are often not as they seem.” Claire got up, stretched, and walked over to the sliding glass door. She pulled it open wider to let in more fresh air. “As I said, I get the picture loud and clear that Jay and Blake didn’t get along. And it looks as if Piper may well fit into that whole scenario somehow. But as hard as I try, I cannot imagine Jay losing it to the point that he murdered Blake Helms. That I can’t digest. If you want my humble opinion, he doesn’t have it in him. And I’ll bet the assault rap against him disappeared because there was nothing to it.”
“We’ll know soon,” Guy said.
“Yeah. But I’ll stake my reputation on my belief that Jay was not involved in the murder. There’s some other connection here with these employees. I’ve felt it from the start. Something is rotten within the lodge staff, and we need to find out who and what it is.” A pensive look owned her face. “Jay didn’t do it,” she repeated. “He did not.”
“Hope you’re right,” Guy said. “I’m half-convinced.”
“Many staffers acted strangely during the interviews. Nervously. Eyes were blinking, and some covered their mouths when they answered. Others pulled at their ears, rubbed their eyes, or stroked their chins. Some shifted in the chair, and several were nonresponsive in their answers. These are all signs that liars display,” Claire said. “I think we need to concentrate on those with the clear motives, but I’m not ready to strike any names from the list quite yet—regardless of whether they earned a star or stars from us.”
“We did observe a lot of curious behavior in that interview room,” Guy said. “You’ll get no argument from me on that one. In fact, as we said before, the lodge employees are a colorful cast.”
“So until we find something definitive in our research or until Sheriff Bell gives us clear information to set us on a particular track, we need to keep open minds and not assume anything,” Claire said. She looked over her notes. “One thing I’m quite sure about: the Whitefish burglar did not come to Bigfork and murder Blake Helms. It’s rare that a burglar suddenly becomes a killer. And the Whitefish criminal has never killed during the Whitefish invasions—even in the one case when the homeowners were at home. And while the couple in that case said he placed something cold and metal to their foreheads, a gun was never actually seen. It could have been something else.” Claire stopped and paused to collect her thoughts. “No, I’m quite certain that Blake knew his murderer. The night clerk stared his assailant in the face as the five shots were fired. Tough to imagine Blake’s last seconds of shock as someone he knew and probably trusted pulled that trigger again and again.” She paused briefly. “The murderer was at the funeral. It’s someone here at the lodge. I have no doubts about it.”
“You might be right on,” Guy said. “But as you know, we need hard evidence to get a conviction.”
The two continued with their work until dinnertime. They changed clothes and walked to the lodge.
Jay and Piper were milling around the lobby when the sleuths arrived, straightening things and turning on mood lighting.
“Care to have dinner with us?” Guy asked.
“Yeah,” Jay said. “We didn’t have lunch today, and we’re both hungry.”
The four found a quiet table and ordered entrées and a bottle of wine to share.
“How’s the investigation coming?” Jay queried. “You’re six days into it now.”
“We’re making headway,” Claire said.
“How long do these things normally take to wrap up?” Piper asked.
“They take as long as they take,” Claire said. “There are numerous possible suspects in this matter, many with motive, and most all with opportunity. No one has been cleared yet. Once we hear from the sheriff on the print comparisons, we may know more.”
Jay swallowed hard. “It’s difficult to believe that someone at the lodge may have committed this murder.”
“Scares me to think about it,” Piper said, “knowing that I may be walking around in the shadows of a killer. I’ll rest a lot easier when he’s nabbed.”
“When he or she is nabbed,” Claire said.
Piper looked puzzled. “Are you saying a woman might have done this? I guess I never …”
“Again, we don’t know at this point who committed the murder, Piper,” Claire said. “We assume nothing.”
“Well, when you said ‘he or she,’ it sounded as if you may have a female suspect in mind,” Piper persisted.
“Sounded that way to me, too,” Jay broke in.
“Please don’t read anything into those words,” Claire said. “I’m only stressing that at this juncture, we don’t know for sure.”
“Everyone is a suspect until cleared,” Guy repeated. “Everyone.”
The dinners arrived, and the foursome ate in relative silence. In an unspoken kind of way, uneasiness seemed to be developing between the couples to a greater and greater degree.
Claire and Guy excused themselves and returned to their room.
“Don’t discount Jay or Piper as suspects, Claire,” he said.
Claire stared at Guy, but did not respond.
WEDNESDAY MORNING arrived.
“I want to solve this case,” Claire announced, walking from the shower. “It’s Wednesday already. Tomorrow it will be one week since the murder.”
Guy stopped to look at his beautiful Claire as he stepped around her to take his turn under the welcoming hot spray.
The phone rang, and Claire ran to answer.
“It’s Sheriff Bell, Ms. Caswell. We’ve come up with some interesting findings. Can you and Gaston meet me at the lodge in, say, half an hour to forty-five minutes?” “We’ll be there,” Claire said. She glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and checked the time.
“Good. Grab a table and order some coffee. I’ll be there as close to that time as possible. I’m already on my way. We need to talk in person.”
The two investigators hurriedly readied for the day and made it to the lodge in exactly thirty minutes. They selected a back corner table for privacy and ordered breakfast and a pot of black coffee. They ate the food quickly, and the table was cleared of everything except the coffee cups.
“We’ll need one additional cup,” Claire informed the server.
“No problem, Ms. Caswell. Who are you expecting?” Katie Kyle, the server, asked.
Claire and Guy were stunned by the intrusion. Neither responded to her question, and both acted as if they didn’t hear it.
Katie delivered the extra cup and saucer to the table and then quickly left.
Claire pulled a notebook and pen from her tote and shot Guy a quizzical glance. She turned her head to look in the direction of the kitchen, and she caught the morning staffers huddled together—whispering and watching the two sleuths with seemingly great interest.
“Don’t look now,” she said to Guy. “But me thinks we’re being observed.”
“The plot thickens …” Guy murmured in a soft voice.
Just then, Sheriff Bell entered the restaurant and walked toward the two. He sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of the steaming java.
“The staff here seems mighty inquisitive about what we’re up to,” Claire said.
“Well, a murder is big news in these parts, Ms. Caswell, especially when they all knew the victim,” the sheriff said. “Guess you can’t blame them.”
“Maybe that’s all it is,” Claire said. “But they’re behaving as if they all share a secret.”
The sheriff ignored the comment. “Wait till you hear what I have to tell you,” he said.
For the next part of an hour, he filled the two investigators in on the discoveries from the fingerprint and palm print comparisons and from the criminal background checks on the employees and Lois Whiting. Toward the end of the conversation, he mentioned that Jay had an assault charge on his record, but he indicated the charge had been dropped for lack of evidence. He also informed them that both Lois Whiting and Blake Helms’s prints were on the mugs taken from Blake’s flat, and that Lois Whiting’s prints were processed from those lifted off the Mason jar.
But he left the bombshell for last. He told them they had identified the partial and full palm prints and fingerprints lifted from the lodge lobby—both from the inside doorknob of the lodge’s front double doors and from the top of the check-in desk. That, coupled with a sealed juvenile criminal record for abetting in a burglary, made one of the employees now the prime suspect.
“That’s good information,” Guy said. “Who are we talking about here?”
“Heidi Flynn,” the sheriff said. “I picked up a warrant to arrest her. We got our killer.”
“What?” Claire was shocked. “This all needs to be developed further, doesn’t it?”
“With a background like that, and the matching palm prints and fingerprints, as well as the .38-caliber gun ownership, we’ve got ample grounds to take the employee into custody. Even found her DNA on the eyelash you discovered, Ms. Caswell. That result came in early this morning,” the sheriff said. “Puts her at the crime scene at the time of the murder. And reasonable minds concur that an arrest is in order.”
“With all due respect, sheriff—and I think I have a reasonable mind—not one of those findings, or even all of them combined, constitutes absolute proof that this employee killed Blake Helms,” Claire said. “You’ll never get a conviction with this kind of spotty evidence. Someone needs to question Lois Whiting about her involvement with Blake before jumping to any conclusions. And there are other employees here that warrant further scrutiny, too.” A look of total frustration occupied Claire’s face. “We need to develop the case further. Right, Guy?” She looked to her partner for support.
“I agree,” he said. “While it may look bad for the young lady, there could be a logical explanation for all of it.”
“Let me be more specific,” the sheriff said. “Just today, early this morning, we received written confirmation from the State Crime Lab in Missoula that the bullets removed from Blake Helms’s body most probably came from the identical type of gun registered to Heidi Flynn—a 642 Smith & Wesson .38-caliber Special Airweight J-frame revolver. The lab is fairly confident of the model identification.” He took a deep breath. “Now, we do appreciate your help, we really do …” He looked at both of the investigators. “But it’s our job to collar the killer, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. For all we know, we might also be nabbing the Whitefish burglar at the same time. Could be a twofer.”
“This seems premature,” Claire argued. “Have you checked the bank accounts of the lodge staffers to see if any large deposits have been made since the murder? If the paintings are being sold, unusually large deposits may be showing up. This needs to be done before—”
“Want to tag along when we make the arrest?” the sheriff asked, cutting her off and looking her directly in the eyes.
“With all due respect, sir, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” she said. “Call it investigator intuition or whatever you’d like. You’re arresting the wrong person. How could Heidi Flynn have hauled away all the artwork? Have you taken that into consideration?”
“I’ll ask my question again. Do you wish to be part of this when we make the arrest or not?” the sheriff asked brashly. “Your choice.”
“Yes, I think we should come along,” Claire said. She continued to maintain eye contact with Sheriff Bell and neither blinked.
“I agree. We’d like to be present,” Guy said.
Claire signed the tab as a lodge guest.
“Follow me,” the sheriff said.
At that moment, as if scripted, two uniformed Lake County patrol deputies walked through the lodge’s front double doors. They joined the sheriff and the sleuths, and together the group walked in unison to make the arrest.
As the sheriff and patrol deputies led the way to one of the guest quarters, Claire and Guy lagged behind. Once there, the two patrol deputies each drew a gun and barged into the door. Heidi Flynn was patting a pillow on the bed when they entered. She jumped back in fear, and when she realized what was happening, all color drained from her face.
Sheriff Bell pulled a white note sheet from his pocket and in a loud voice read the required Miranda Warning to Heidi Flynn.
“Ms. Heidi Flynn, you are under arrest for the murder of Blake Helms and for felony theft of property in connection with the murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to contact an attorney and to have that attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford one, an attorney will be provided at no cost to represent you. Do you understand the rights I’ve just read to you?”
She trembled. “Yes. Can I please call Sam? He’ll want to know what’s happening to me.” She did her best to fight back tears.
“You can make a call from the stationhouse, Ms. Flynn. Now please put your hands behind your back,” one officer said.
She obeyed his command, and handcuffs were placed and tightened around her thin wrists.
“I’ll grab your purse, Heidi,” Claire said. “We’re coming with you.”
Heidi looked at Claire. “I had nothing to do with his murder. Is it because I own a gun? I have that for self-protection.”
“We’ll get this all straightened out, Heidi,” Claire said. “You can count on it.”
At that moment, Heidi Flynn wore the face of a terrified little girl, and Claire felt an immense pang of pity for the young lady. Heidi dropped her head as a huge tear rolled down her cheek. Each officer grabbed one of her arms and took a step forward to lead her from the room.
“Heidi, we’re right behind you,” Claire said boldly.
The sheriff darted a look of profound disapproval in the direction of the female sleuth, as if to say without words, Lay off, lady, but she paid him no heed. This was an unfounded arrest in her opinion, and she was angry about it.
Heidi Flynn turned her head back toward Claire. “I didn’t kill him, Ms. Caswell. My gun and ammunition are missing. Someone took them from my purse.”
Claire gave her a slight nod.
Heidi was forced into one of the squad cars parked in front of the lodge. Eagle-eyed morning staffers crammed into the front doorway, watching the scene unfold and engaging in voracious gossip.
Claire looked into the crowd and noticed that certain of the lodge employees working that morning were missing from the scene.