Linda Crowder - Jake and Emma 02 - Main Street Murder Read online

  “He called to let me know he’s going to be longer than he expected,” Emma went on. “There are quite a few cases ahead of his.”

  Kristy laughed, “I bet there are! Rodeo week always gives people an excuse to get drunk.” Emma nodded. The Solstice crowd was rowdy but for the most part sober since the arena limited how many drinks a patron could buy. Still, there were always those outside of the arena who took advantage of the police attention being diverted to the Solstice.

  “So since Jake is going to be busy all morning,” Emma continued, “I was thinking we could run by your place and so you can change clothes then we could go to the hospital to see how Cheri’s doing.”

  “That’s a great idea,” agreed Kristy. “I like this bathrobe but I don’t think it would go over too well at Casper Medical Center.” Both women laughed, then Kristy sighed again. “And I would really love to have you with me when I see Cheri again.”

  Their plans made, the women finished their breakfast. Emma stacked their dishes in the dishwasher while Kristy disappeared into the guest room to change back into the clothing she’d worn the night before.

  Half an hour later, Emma stood in Kristy’s living room, looking out at Casper Mountain while Kristy changed. “I think I’m just going to throw this out,” she said holding up her blood-stained shirt for Emma to see.

  “I don’t know,” said Emma. “I think we might be able to get that stain to come out if we worked on it enough.”

  Kristy let her arms drop, examining the offending blouse. “Maybe. But as I was running the water to put it to soak I thought, do I really want to wear this again?” She looked up at her friend. “I don’t think I do.”

  She quickly crossed the room and opened the antique metal door to the trash chute. Stuffing the blouse into the chute Kristy let the door clang shut behind it. “I don’t think I would ever have been able to enjoy wearing that shirt again.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Emma. They took the elevator to the underground parking lot where they’d left Kristy’s car. On-site parking was a treasure downtown so Kristy hadn’t balked at paying a little extra to have a reserved space with her condo.

  Tucking the car into the garage at the hospital, Emma followed Kristy as she walked into the Intensive Care ward where she had left Cheri the night before. Stopping to check in with the nurse on duty, they found that Cheri was in stable but serious condition.

  They found their friend in a bright room, her bed in the center, angled to face an observation room where a doctor sat staring up at a wall of monitors. He came out to speak with Emma and Kristy when they walked into the room.

  “She is holding her own,” he assured them when they asked about their friend’s condition. “She lost a lot of blood so she’s pretty weak right now. Our big concern is that she may develop an infection from the knife the perforating the bowel when she was stabbed.”

  Emma winced. It was the first time she’d heard how Cheri had been injured. Kristy had said she found Cheri in a pool of blood but Emma had just assumed Cheri had been shot. Of course not, she realized, because everyone would have heard a shot, even over the rodeo noise.

  “Is she going to be ok?” asked Kristy. The doctor said it was too soon to say for certain that Cheri was out of the woods but as long as there was no infection, she should recover.

  “Is she sleeping?” asked Emma, “Or….” her voice trailed off.

  “She’s in a medically induced sleep right now,” replied the doctor. “But we’ll be easing up on the medication in a day or two. We just want to be sure all of her energy is directed at healing right now.”

  The ladies thanked the doctor, who went back to the monitors. He made some notes in the computer and moved to the next patient. Emma and Kristy stood on either side of Cheri’s bed, each woman holding a hand, then they joined hands with each other over the bed and said a heartfelt prayer for their friend.

  “It occurs to me,” said Emma, “that Cheri may not have been the intended victim.”

  Jake put down the chopsticks he was struggling with and looked at his wife across the table. After they left Cheri, Kristy had dropped Emma off at Jake’s office. Since Emma had no clients scheduled that day, the two women had taken the day off. Kristy said she was going to try to take a nap to make up for not sleeping much the night before.

  Emma had let herself into Jake’s office and was using her cell phone to check her voice mail and return client calls when he came in from court. Hearing the door open, Emma looked up from her calendar as she waited for the client on the line to decide what time next Thursday would work for her appointment.

  It didn’t matter how many years they’d been married, the sight of Jake in his “monkey suit” always brought a smile to her face. He was the only man she knew who looked equally at home in a three piece suit arguing a case before a judge and in dusty jeans and a t-shirt moving rocks to build the back yard pond Emma had always wanted for a water garden.

  The appointment with her client set, Emma tapped “end call” on her cell phone and slid it into her purse. “I am not dressed well enough to be seen with you, counselor,” she joked as he bent to kiss her.

  “I’ll overlook it this time,” he bantered. Emma was wearing an old yellow sundress that every fall went into her “discard” pile only to be fished out and packed away “just for one more year.” Instead of her watch, she wore a wide silver bracelet she’d bought in Santa Fe and as they left the office Emma popped on a colorful straw hat she found on their last vacation in Mexico. To Jake, she looked like the Goddess of Summer.

  Now sitting in their favorite Chinese food restaurant, Emma deftly manipulating her chopsticks, Jake was taken aback by her abrupt change in conversation. “What makes you think that?” he asked. “I assume you’re talking about the two men you overheard at the parade.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Emma. “Cheri was sitting with Kristy on the float but she couldn’t have been who they were talking about because she wouldn’t have had any connection with Shipton.”

  “That you know of,” responded Jake. He gave up on his chopsticks as he always did and resorted to using his fork. “She may have known him.”

  Emma shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I think if she did, she would have mentioned something to Kristy about it at the time. His picture was in the paper, you remember?” Jake nodded. “I don’t remember Kristy ever telling me that anyone had spoken with her about Shipton.”

  “It’s possible she had some connection to him that she didn’t want to advertise.” Jake held up his had to stop Emma’s protest. “I know, you like Cheri. I do too but everybody has secrets. Just because she didn’t talk about a connection doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.”

  “By that logic,” said Emma, who appreciated Jake’s logical mind even when it clashed with her more emotional approach to life, “you could say maybe Kristy knew more about Shipton than she is telling me.”

  “You could say that, but you know Kristy much better than you know Cheri. It would be harder for Kristy to hide something from you.”

  “There is something she’s hiding from me,” said Emma. Jake looked at her in surprise. “Well, she isn’t exactly hiding it but when she first started working for me, she came to me as part of a program that helps displaced women find jobs. Her case worker told me that she was fleeing domestic violence, but that’s all she told me and Kristy’s never told me anything about it.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never asked,” said Jake. “You ask total strangers all kinds of personal questions.”

  “Those are my clients,” Emma protested. “I ask what I need to in order to help them.”

  Jake laughed. “I wasn’t talking about your clients. I was talking about people we meet on vacation, people who sit next to us at the movies, people who make the mistake of getting into an elevator with us!” Emma colored. “You are the nosiest person I know. How can you not have asked Kristy about her past?”

  “Because it wouldn�
�t have been fair,” said Emma. “I’m her boss, even if we are friends now, we didn’t know each other from Adam then. I told her if she ever felt she wanted or needed to talk about her past, I would be there to listen. I left it up to her. She hasn’t ever talked about it.”

  Emma frowned. “She hasn’t talked much at all about her past, come to think about it. We talk all the time but it’s always about what’s going on now, what our plans are for the future.”

  “So I suppose we’ll keep her on the list of possible intended victims,” said Jake.

  “She was anyway,” agreed Emma. “But I guess you’re right about keeping Cheri on the list too. If there is so much I don’t know about someone I know as well as I know Kristy, there could be all kinds of things I don’t know about Cheri.”

  They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes then Jake asked her, “Are we certain that the attack on Cheri is connected to the men at the parade?”

  Emma tilted her head and looked at him in thought. Jake stifled a laugh since the movement and expression on Emma’s face were a virtual carbon copy to one of Sparky’s favorite gestures. He’d heard people begin to resemble their pets and wondered if he had unconsciously copied any of Casper or Charlie’s behaviors.

  “I know you’re always saying how many coincidences there are,” said Emma thoughtfully. “But I really do think they have to be connected. Whether Kristy or Cheri was the target, they were together at the parade when two men mention the name of a man who has been murdered and point out a woman that needs to be ‘taken care of.’ Then they were together again at the rodeo when one of them was attacked. Things like that don’t just happen in Casper, Jake.”

  “Except that you’re overlooking something,” said Jake almost reluctantly. “These two men you heard would have a hard time going unseen in and out of a women’s restroom at a crowded rodeo in order to attack Cheri.”

  “Kristy said there wasn’t anyone else in the ladies room when she found Cheri,” mused Emma. “I suppose they could have been watching her, waiting for an opportunity to strike. When they realized she was in the restroom alone, they could have moved in and out very quickly.”

  Jake shook his head. “They’d be taking a huge chance doing that. Why take that kind of risk? Cheri lives alone, doesn’t she?”

  “I think so,” said Emma.

  “Then why try to kill her in such a public place? If you’re going to lay in wait for someone, why not at her home?” Jake pushed his chair back and the couple got up to leave. They stopped at the front door to pay their bill and walked out into the afternoon sun. “It had to be a woman, Emma. Only a woman could have been certain Cheri was alone and only a woman could have attacked her and gotten out unseen.”

  Emma didn’t like the sound of that, but Jake’s theory did make sense. “So either they have a female accomplice…”

  “Or the attack on Cheri had nothing to do with the two men you overheard,” finished Jake. “Either way, Emma, you have to let it go. Let the police do their job and you stay out of it. People get killed poking their noses into things they don’t understand.”

  “I am not ‘poking my nose’ into anything, Jake,” Emma replied. “I’m engaging in idle speculation with my husband about something that concerns two of my friends.” Jake looked unconvinced. “I’m worried about Kristy, that’s all. What happened to Cheri was horrible and I’m frightened that something could happen to Kristy too.”

  “I know,” said Jake. He opened Emma’s door for her and waited while she settled herself in the truck. Closing her door, he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. His hand on the key in the ignition Jake turned to look at her. “I just worry about you.”

  “Well nobody’s laying in wait for me,” smiled Emma.

  8

  The next morning, Detective Matt Joyner checked in at the ICU nurse’s station then joined Dr. Gibbs, who was waiting for him in Cheri Jackson’s room. The doctor had called Joyner when Cheri started showing signs of regaining consciousness. The detective expected she would be able to tell him who had attacked her.

  At least he hoped she would. Witness accounts were all over the place. One woman had seen a man going into the ladies restroom with “an evil look” on his face. She hadn’t said anything to the Rodeo security volunteer who’d been standing 10 feet away from her at the time, though, and that volunteer had sworn he hadn’t seen anyone “unusual” going in or out of the ladies room. No one had claimed to see anyone exit the room with a knife or with blood on their hands or clothes.

  His team was still going through the list of rodeo patrons but so far, they’d turned up little of interest. They’d found a few with bench warrants and one man was cited for a parole violation for being in a location where alcohol was served - the typical Casper night on the town for the police department, but nothing that pointed to a violent attacker.

  Joyner hoped that Ms. Jackson would be able to tell him who attacked her or, if it was not someone she knew, that she could at least give him a good description to work from. Without that, he had little chance of finding her attacker.

  Cheri was awake when Joyner entered her room. She looked pale and was propped up with pillows, the head of her bed elevated. A thin tube wrapped around her ears, delivering oxygen, and another tube delivered fluids through an IV in her right arm. Joyner knew Cheri had received blood transfusions when she came out of surgery to treat her extensive blood loss at the scene, but she seemed to only be receiving saline now.

  Dr. Gibbs introduced Joyner to Cheri, who looked at him expectantly. “Could you tell me what happened to you on the night of the rodeo?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  Cheri blinked a few times and a confused expression crossed her face. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “When I woke up just now, I asked Dr. Gibbs what happened, why I was in the hospital. He said you could tell me.”

  Joyner sighed. He hadn’t been expecting this. He knew that victims of trauma sometimes forgot the details of what led up to the cause of that trauma but it had been his understanding it happened generally only after a head injury. He’d have to speak with Dr. Gibbs about it.

  “I can do that,” he answered Cheri, “but first, could you tell me what you do remember about that evening?”

  “I remember being at the rodeo, of course,” Cheri nodded, closing her eyes to better remember the evening. “We watched the opening events - Kristy Castle and I went to the rodeo together - then we decided to make a run to the ladies room. We were hoping to get in and out before the intermission rush.”

  “Were there a lot of ladies in the restroom?” asked Joyner. No one had admitted to being in the room during the attack.

  “Oh my, yes! I guess every other woman in Casper had the same idea we did,” Cheri laughed. “The line was out the door and halfway down the concourse. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it in time! Kristy joked about storming the men’s room. Of course, there never is any line for the men’s room,” Cheri looked at Joyner and Gibbs as though they were personally responsible for this disparity.

  “We finally did get in,” she continued. “I remember I heard the announcer start talking about the team roping event getting ready to start just as we were getting to the front of the line.”

  She stopped, then she sighed. “Then I woke up here.” She looked up at the two men. “I’m just blank after hearing that announcer and thinking we needed to hurry and get back.”

  Joyner nodded. “I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson, but you were stabbed in the ladies room that night.” Cheri gasped and seemed to lose what little color she had in her face. Dr. Gibbs, who had been keeping one eye on the monitors, encouraged her to breathe deeply until her vitals stabilized again.

  “I don’t have any other details to give you,” continued the detective once Dr. Gibbs nodded to him that Cheri was ready to hear more. “There were no witnesses to the attack. I was hoping you could shed a little light on what happened.”

  “No,” said Cheri, her vo
ice shaking. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t remember. “

  “It’s all right, Cheri,” said Dr. Gibbs. “Don’t worry about that. You just focus on getting better and getting out of here.”

  Cheri nodded and Dr. Gibbs lowered the head of her bed to a more relaxing position. Promising to send the nurse in, he guided Joyner out of the room and into an empty family waiting room attached to the ICU.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Doc,” began Joyner as soon as they were out of earshot. “What can you tell me about the knife?”

  “Not much,” admitted Dr. Gibbs. “From the depth of the penetration I’d say it was longer than a pocket knife but shorter than say, a hunting knife.”

  “That helps some,” said Joyner. Half the men and a good percentage of women in Casper carried either a pocket knife or multi-tool with a blade.

  “I’d also say it was a fairly sharp knife, left smooth edges so not serrated like a hunting knife or something you’d use to clean fish. More like a steak knife. From the shape of the wound, I’d say they just thrust it in and pulled it right out,” Dr. Gibbs frowned. “Maybe heard someone coming and ran.”

  “What about height?” asked Joyner, but here he was out of luck.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t really say,” answered Dr. Gibbs. “I don’t have any forensic training and I was a bit pre-occupied with repairing the damage.”

  “Why can’t she remember what happened?” asked Joyner, changing the subject. “I thought you only got amnesia after a head injury.”

  “She may have psychogenic amnesia.” Dr. Gibbs continued when Joyner appeared confused. “It’s a form of retrograde amnesia caused by psychological reasons as opposed to organic.”

  Joyner nodded. “Her memory will return though?”

  “More than likely,” agreed the doctor.

  “How long will it take?”

  Dr. Gibbs shook his head. “I couldn’t say. Some patients recover the memories fairly quickly, others block a traumatic experience for years.”