Murder on Saint Patrick's Day Read online

  The sheriff nodded. “Go check.”

  Colby stepped forward and pulled apart the pen. After examining the parts thoroughly, he lifted his head toward the sheriff and shook it. “Nothing.”

  Emma glanced over toward Stacy and Molly. She found that the teenage girl had sunk to the floor of the café and used the Saint Bernard puppy as a pillow. The clock on the wall above them said that it was almost eleven-thirty. She frowned. “Dad, I’m going to give Stacy’s mom a call and let her know what’s going on, okay?”

  The sheriff nodded, and Emma stepped just outside the door of the café, choosing Stacy’s mother on her contacts and hitting send while she walked.

  A magazine upon the ground out front flapped in the wind. To keep it from flying away, Emma stomped upon it with her foot as the phone rang in her ear. She bent down to pick it up with the intention of placing it in the trash can. Mrs. Greenwood’s answering service picked up.

  She rolled the magazine between her hands instead of placing it directly in the trash can. “Hi, Mrs. Greenwood. I just wanted to let you know that Stacy and I are still at the Main Street Café. Unfortunately, there has been an incident here, but Stacy is fine. She and I were both witnesses to the incident. I will bring her home as soon as I possibly can, or if you decide to pick her up yourself, just let me know. Sorry to have to leave a message, but I’m sure you’re with your sister right now, and I hope she is fine. Will talk to you later.”

  After clicking the phone closed, she stepped toward the trash can, to drop the magazine in, when she found herself meeting eyes with the man on the cover. She nearly dropped the magazine but caught it to get a closer look. On the cover, Kellum stared back at her.

  Chapter 6

  The March wind continued to blow Emma’s hair about her face. She opened the magazine and found it to be a local college magazine with an article about the band. Apparently Irish had popularity among the college kids and often ran the circuit near campus. The magazine showed the band standing together with wide smiles on their faces. Their many piercings were on display.

  The article was about the band’s many piercings and how they did them themselves. Next to it, a QR code stood out with a link to a video online to see Jack get a piercing. Out of curiosity, Emma pulled out her phone and read the code with it, so she could watch the video.

  Will smiled for the camera, holding a needle between his rubber-gloved fingers. He used a pair of scissor clamps to squeeze a spot on Jack’s ear where the needle would go. Then he said to Jack, “Take a deep breath and blow.”

  The video had to have been quite a little while ago, as Jack had only a few piercings compared to now. He did as Will said, in the video, and took a deep breath and blew.

  The needle pierced through the earlobe quickly, so that half the needle stuck out on each side of the ear. Emma winced while she watched it. She’d never gotten her ears pierced. Her mother had never taken her before her parents were divorced, and her father was against it because his sister dealt with infections because of her piercings. Now that she was watching the needle do its job, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to have it done.

  Will took a U-shaped ring and placed it on the end of the needle. As he pulled the needle through, the ring replaced the needle in the hole, and Will placed a ball on the other side. Then he looked at the camera with a big smile. “Now for the other side.”

  But Emma hit the stop button on the video and set it aside. Kellum didn’t seem to be in the video, and this wasn’t helping her learn more about the case. How someone could want to watch that video, she had no idea. It must have been for die-hard fans only. She wondered how many girls like Stacy would be influenced into trying to do their own piercings after watching it.

  With a deep breath, she stepped back into the café. Colby stood over the table where the four suspects sat with their belongings on the table in front of them. Emma shot a glance over toward Stacy and found her still cuddled on the floor with Molly. Molly lifted her head and wagged the tip of her tail just a little bit before lowering her head again. Emma gave her the hand signal to stay, hoping that Molly would obey, even though she never had before.

  Monique, the woman with the green streak in her hair, sat at the booth against the wall, alone with the guitar sitting beside her. She chewed her nails, but her watery eyes looked haunted, staring into space at nothing. Emma’s heart broke for her a little bit. If she had a romantic relationship with the victim, she must have been devastated. Emma’s gaze wandered over to Colby. The two of them didn’t have a romantic relationship, but she couldn’t imagine if she were to lose the friendship that they had right now. She took a deep breath and shook her head to clear those thoughts from it.

  The sheriff’s phone rang, and he stepped to the side to answer it.

  Emma stepped over toward Colby and handed him the magazine she found, and then she leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “There’s an article in here about Kellum and the rest of the band as well.”

  He took it from her and nodded, looking down at the rolled-up magazine in his hand. “Thanks.”

  “How is the investigation going?” she asked him.

  He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed, and he stepped back twice, gesturing for Emma to follow him. “We’re at an impasse right now. All four of them have motive, but only three have opportunity. Nothing in their possession seems to be a likely murder weapon, and we’re not even sure what the murder weapon could possibly be.”

  Emma frowned with him. “Will you be moving the investigation to the sheriff’s office?”

  He shrugged and glanced over toward Emma’s dad. “That’s up to the sheriff.”

  She nodded and headed back over toward the table where Stacy sat on the floor with Molly. Molly wagged her tail in greeting, but this time, the puppy did not even lift her head. Stacy’s arms were wrapped around the Saint Bernard’s neck, her fingers buried in the white and brown fur. Molly seemed to know she was needed for emotional support and remained still. Emma patted her on the head before sitting in the chair behind them. “Good girl.”

  Emma glanced up at the clock. It was already five minutes past midnight.

  The sheriff returned to the crowd and cleared his throat. “Preliminary results from the autopsy are in. The murder weapon is believed now to be a needle of at least two inches in length. Any of you own such an item or know of one of the other suspects who might own one?”

  All four men sitting at the table frowned and furrowed their brows, but none of them said a word. The murderer was unlikely to speak up, but if one of the others knew something, they weren’t speaking up either.

  Monique suddenly stood and rushed toward the suspects. Colby darted forward and caught her by the waist, but she still managed to slam her hands on the table. “Murderer! You did this didn’t you? You just couldn’t stand that Kellum was going to be a success without you!”

  Chapter 7

  Emma hopped to her feet, and Molly growl-whined in response. Stacy woke, her red rimmed eyes puffy and looked around as though she was uncertain of where she was. Emma set a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Stacy, I’m right here.”

  Stacy’s bottom lip quivered. Emma leaned down and hugged her shoulders, patting her on the back. “You’re okay. I’m right here. We’ll be going home shortly. I promise.”

  Nodding into Emma’s shoulder, Stacy sniffled, then leaned back and swiped at her eyes. “I’m okay. Thank you for being here with me, Miss Emma.”

  Emma smiled at the moniker. She hadn’t been called that by anyone in four years, but it was always how Stacy had referred to her when she was younger.

  “Murderer!” Monique yelled again, as Colby pulled her from the table of suspects.

  “Who are you referring to, young lady, and why would you accuse the person?” the sheriff asked, placing himself between her and the table, and drawing her gaze.

  “Will... or Jack. It doesn’t matter. One of them did it. They are always doing each other’s piercings
. They have access to needles. One of them—or maybe both—found out Kellum was leaving the band. They killed him!”

  “That might be so, young lady,” Emma’s father said and held his hands out in front of him. “But we don’t have enough evidence to prove it yet, so you’re going to have to calm down.”

  Emma sat back down in her chair, and Stacy sat in the chair across from her at the table. Emma looked back over toward her. “Didn’t you say that one of them was certified or something for piercing?”

  She nodded. “It’s Jack. I remember now.”

  Emma nodded. “The drummer? I just saw a video of how the piercings are done, but it was Will who did it.”

  “I think I saw he was apprenticing, too.”

  The needles used for piercing were definitely at least two inches long and from what Emma had seen, they were hollow, so they would be easier to push through flesh than an icepick that would have a handle. But it would still be difficult to push through skin with bare hands.

  Emma chewed on her bottom lip while she looked over toward the table of items. Was there something that could be used there like a handle or an item that would help the murderer push the needle into the victim’s back? From what she could see, there was nothing on the table that could be hidden quickly in a public situation.

  Emma frowned.

  Her grandmother used to do a lot of sewing and crocheting when she was younger and had taught her to do cross-stitching. She remembered how her thumb would hurt if she pushed a needle through the fabric that had resistance. Unless she was wearing a thimble.

  The items on the table were nothing that could be used in that sort of way. Not to mention there had to be a way to pull the needle back out. What could possibly be used in that sort of way?

  Emma squeezed Stacy’s hand from across the table and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Stacy nodded.

  After drawing closer to the table and her father, she peered over the table once more to see the items there. Wallets, spare change... guitar string. Will had his hands set upon the table, each of his rings shining in the light of the café dining area. And suddenly, a possible scenario came to her.

  “Dad!” She grabbed her father’s arm and pulled him slightly back. “Have you checked the guitar?”

  He blinked at her. “The what?”

  She swallowed and pointed toward the instrument in the booth. “The guitar. Monique was right. The band members do their own piercings and are familiar with needles. I showed Colby a magazine article on it, and there’s a video I watched, too.”

  Colby stepped over with the magazine and handed the rolled-up magazine to her father. The sheriff glanced at the article in question. And then looked toward Colby. “Search the guitar.”

  He nodded and headed toward the booth.

  The guitarist suddenly leapt to his feet. “What are you doing? You don’t mess with another man’s instrument, man.”

  The sheriff slammed a hand down on the table and drew the attention back to him. “You might want to sit down, young man.”

  He sat down, but his eyes never left the guitar. “I didn’t give permission for my guitar to be touched. I want to make sure I say that right now.”

  “Exigent circumstances, young man. This is a murder investigation. If the murder weapon is hidden in your guitar, we cannot allow you time to destroy evidence.”

  He half-laughed. “What evidence. What on earth could you possibly expect to find in there?”

  Emma spoke up. “A guitar string woven through a piercing needle, in a perfect circle to fit over your finger.”

  Will shot his gaze at Emma, and his eyes grew wider. He sucked in his breath.

  “You had the string around your finger, half hidden under one of your rings. You used the ring to press the needle into Kellum’s back, and then pulled it back out again with the string.”

  His mouth opened and closed like he was gasping for air.

  The drummer, Jack, jumped up quickly. “Really, man? You did this? How could you?”

  Colby came back with the guitar, and a needle with a string tied around it, just as Emma had described. He dropped it into an evidence bag and set it on the table in front of the suspects.

  Monique avoided Colby this time. She beat on Will’s back and shoulders. “You killed him. Murderer. How could you? All because he was breaking up the band? How selfish could you be?”

  Will suddenly shot to his feet and turned toward her.

  Emma’s dad placed a hand on his gun. And Colby darted around the table, pushing back the guitarist’s shoulder.

  “Selfish?” Will yelled suddenly. “Me? Kellum was going to take my songs and my music with him. He had wanted to look like the main songwriter, for the band’s image, he said. And so I let him because the success of Irish was good for all of us. But when he got this solo deal, it was because of the songs I wrote! Kellum was a liar and a thief. He stole you from Drew, Chris’s sister’s innocence, my songs from me, and the band from both me and Jack. I couldn’t let him get away with it.”

  Colby grabbed his cuffs and put them on the man and started to tell him his Miranda rights.

  The adrenaline that had been pumping through Emma’s veins drained, and her shoulders ached as they fell. Sheriff Wright stepped up to her and hugged her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good work, Emma.”

  Chapter 8

  In the living room of the Greenwood’s house, a light shone, but the house still looked empty. Emma yawned as she pulled into the driveway. She took a deep breath and looked over toward the passenger seat, where Stacy had fallen asleep again. It was nearly one a.m. but at least it wasn’t a school night.

  Molly had been quiet in the back of the SUV. The Saint Bernard puppy must have been tired too. During the therapy dog training session, she’d been full of energy, barely listening to Emma’s commands. But she’d been an angel about taking care of Stacy during the incident at the café. Maybe she’d make a great therapy dog yet.

  A yawn pulled at Emma’s lips again, but she steeled herself as she knew she’d have to keep her promise and stay until Mrs. Greenwood got home. She reached over and shook Stacy gently by the shoulder. “Time to wake up, Stacy. You’re home.”

  Stacy’s eyes blinked again several times, and Emma felt sad that the poor girl had to go through such a stressful time and lose an artist that she’d admired as well. Emma knew what it was like to have a crush on a celebrity. Her crush on Colby was just as unrequited.

  Lights shined behind them and pulled into the driveway next to them. Mrs. Greenwood stepped out of her car before the pair of younger women got out of the SUV. Stacy pulled open the passenger door and slid out. “Mom!”

  She fell into her mother’s arms and sobbed against her mother’s shoulder. Her whole body shook a bit.

  Emma came around the car to the pair and met eyes with Stacy’s mother. The question in her eyes told Emma that she hadn’t gotten the message that she’d left on Stacy’s mother’s phone. Emma took a deep breath and began to tell Mrs. Greenwood what had happened and why they were home so late.

  THE CLOCK ON THE DASHBOARD of Emma’s SUV stated the time was nearly two a.m. when she finally pulled into the driveway of her little house. She yawned and peered into the backseat. She hadn’t felt like putting Molly all the way in the back area but wanted her close after she left the Greenwood’s house.

  Lights shined behind her again, and the K9 unit pulled into the driveway behind her this time. Emma blinked. “Colby?”

  She pulled off her seatbelt and hopped out of the truck. Molly jumped across the seats and hopped out right behind her, running ahead to greet him. Emma smiled, confused. “What are you doing here?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and offered up a hand with a small paper bag from the all-night donut shop near the college. “Johnson’s always makes a fresh batch of crème filled a little after midnight. I know they’re your favorite, and for once I knew you’d be up late, too.”
/>   Emma laughed, keeping an eye on Molly as she jumped toward the window at the back area of the SUV, where Gabby, the K9 officer sat. Emma sighed. “That’s for sure.”

  He smiled while she took the bag he offered. The donut pressed against her hand. “It’s still a little warm.”

  He nodded. “The cream will probably be melted just a little too.”

  The breeze picked up and blew Emma’s hair around her face again, hiding Colby and his dimple for just a moment before she pulled it back behind her ears again. Molly returned to her and pressed her nose against the bag. Colby and Emma shared a laugh. Emma’s heart felt as though it might burst in this small moment, this kind gesture suddenly took away some of the sadness and tiredness she’d felt since returning from the café. She looked into Colby’s eyes, wondering if this donut delivery was just another brotherly gesture, or something more? Just when she opened her mouth to ask if he had plans in the morning, his radio beeped.

  “Unit 401, we have a possible 10-31 at the hardware store on Stallings Drive. Do you copy?”

  Colby pulled the radio from the clip on his side. “On the way.” Then he smiled once more at Emma. “Sorry you had such rough day. Get some sleep and maybe I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”

  “You bet!” Emma answered, snapping the leash she had in her hands onto Molly’s collar to keep her from getting near the SUV while Colby pulled out. He turned to wave just before darting off toward the possible crime in progress—her father had her memorize all the codes when she was younger.

  Kneeling down, Emma gave Molly a quick hug while Molly nosed the bag she held. “No, Molly. I’m saving that for breakfast.”

  Even though she was a little hungry right then, she wanted to savor the moment a little longer. In the distance she heard the siren wail for a moment as Colby went through the main intersection and then cut the noise again.

  She and Colby were friends, good ones. Someday she hoped they’d both become something more, but for now, she’d be happy with a warm donut.