| |
THE NEXT MORNING, A copy of the Mapleton Weekly waited on Gordon’s desk, opened to Charlotte Strickland’s articles. A sticky note said Titch, last night’s duty officer, had dropped it off. Gordon sat, put on his readers and braced himself. Even if Lipsky had promised to keep things honest, he had to sell papers, and who got a new puppy or won the high school volleyball tournament didn’t cut it.
Gordon eased into the articles, starting with the one covering Mayor McKenna’s leave of absence. It appeared to be an almost verbatim copy of what Mrs. McKenna had told him. For health reasons was as close as the article came to disclosing what was actually wrong with the mayor.
From there, Gordon scanned the article about catching Hayden “Moose” Johnston. Succinct. No frills. Could have been worse. There was no denying a murder had been committed in Mapleton, but Charlotte hadn’t employed sensationalism or scare tactics. Then again, she hadn’t praised the police department for catching him so quickly.
He moved on to the article Lipsky had warned him about. How short a leash had he kept Charlotte on? Gordon trusted the editor to be fair. He took a breath and dove in.
Time for New Blood in Mapleton? the headline read.
Gordon perused the rest of the article.
With Mayor McKenna on indefinite leave, Town Council leader, Jeremiah Illingsworth, steps in as interim mayor. Nelson Manning, who has more years on the town council than Illingsworth, says Mapleton should hold a special election for a new mayor immediately, despite Mayor McKenna’s wishes that things continue as they have been until the regular election in November.
Manning claims that potentially having three different mayors—McKenna, Illingsworth, and whoever’s elected in November—serving in a short period of time could disrupt Mapleton’s operations. Manning also suggested this would be a good time to consider hiring a new Chief of Police, claiming that until Chief Hepler took over for Chief Dixon, Mapleton hadn’t seen a single homicide in decades, and there have been four this year alone.
Not all Mapleton cases, Gordon grumbled under his breath. He continued reading.
Manning was observed in a heated discussion with Interim Mayor Illingsworth yesterday at their council meeting. Illingsworth commented to this reporter that Manning should be showing more respect for Mayor McKenna’s directive, and that crime is increasing nationwide. Illingsworth also pointed out the Mapleton Police Department quickly apprehended the man they believe was responsible for the killing, and he is in the County Jail.
Fair enough. Gordon thought Manning was using this as his first mayoral campaign effort. What would life be like if Manning won? If Gordon did get the job offer in Pine Hills, would that be a major deciding factor? Gambling that Manning could actually win the election and leaving Mapleton as a precaution?
Gordon’s head throbbed.
Tonight, he and Angie would have to have a long heart to heart talk.
Gordon brewed his pot of decaf and went over yesterday’s reports, wondering if he should keep up his database now that Illingsworth had said he didn’t need such frequent, detailed updates. No, the database helped him do his job. Pulling reports out of it less often was an insignificant change.
Laurie popped her head in as he was finishing. “I take it you saw the article in the Weekly.”
“I did.” He left it at that, waited for her to carry things further if she wanted.
“Could have been worse,” she said.
He smiled. “It’s been worse in the past, and I’m sure it will be again in the future. There’s nothing to refute in her article, and she did present both sides.”
“I’ll bet Mr. Lipsky had something to do with that,” Laurie muttered.
“He does a good job with the paper. Anything else?”
“As of now, you’re clear for the rest of the day,” she said.
“Will you send Ed Solomon in, please?” he asked. “And if you don’t mind, I have the day-olds for the breakroom.”
“You know I never mind.” Opening the box, she left the office.
Solomon bounded in, coffee mug in hand, eyes alight. “You’re not going to believe this, Chief.” He flopped into his chair. “Wichita cops just updated me. Guess who else takes the same BP meds as Catherine Volmer?”
“Dustin Cremati?”
“Close, but no cigar. Guess who had an emergency refill of her prescription after she got back from the wedding? Claims she must have misplaced the vial, because when she got home, it was missing.”
“Mrs. Cremati?” Gordon’s brows arched upward. “She did it?”
“Nope. For all of Dustin Cremati’s undoubted skill at prevaricating while selling cars, it seems his talents collapse like a house of cards in a mountain breeze when confronted by Wichita’s finest. He admitted everything—taking his wife’s pills, slipping them into Catherine Volmer’s wine, and all for the love of his daughter.”
“They believe him?”
“Partway. They’ve got a strong hunch he’s covering for his wife, and the two of them planned it together. They offer us their thanks, and will continue to keep us apprised of their investigation.”
Gordon shook his head in frustration. “I talked to both Cremati parents at the reception. Didn’t get a ping.”
“At least not one you couldn’t attribute to having a body discovered at darling Destiny’s wedding. Nobody else caught it, either.”
Gordon shook his head again. “I saw him engrossed in his beers. Figured he was the sort who hated fancy events, especially since there didn’t seem to be a lot of fondness between the two families. Ah, well. Sounds like Wichita is well on top of things.”
He smiled and raised his mug. “Despite our two initial erroneous gender assumptions, I think we just helped solve a hat trick of murders.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Solomon tapped his mug to Gordon’s.
Sometimes it was good to be the Chief.