Standoff At Christmas

“Did you find the weapon?”

“Yes, a can of soup. I think the attacker left her in the pantry where she had probably been hiding and continued his search. She must have awakened and fled outside.”

“How many people do you think it is?”

“We have two different sets of footprints in the house that weren’t Betty’s.” Randall half leaned, half sat on his dispatcher’s desk as Officers Bates and Clark walked from the back of the station, talking.

“Any latent prints that you could match?”

Randall signaled for Bates to join them. “Yes, one, but the print isn’t in our system. Did Linda know what might have been taken from Betty’s? If someone wanted to steal, I could think of many better off than her.”

“No, but Linda and Rachel are going to start cleaning up since I checked with one of your officers this morning. He said you’re through with the crime scene.”

Randall glanced toward Bates. “We were there until late, processing the scene. Finished about ten o’clock. If Linda or Rachel find anything missing, please let me know.”

Jake shifted slightly toward the young officer. “I’ll leave you to talk business. I’m going by the general store for some cleaning supplies they might need at Betty’s house, then to Port Aurora’s Community Church. Linda couldn’t get hold of the pastor this morning, so she wanted me to tell him Betty only wanted a small memorial service at church.”

“That sounds like Betty, but it won’t be small. I don’t see how the church will be big enough for the service. She worked at the processing center at the fishery and was a moving force at church. I figure at least half the town will want to come.” Randall reached behind him for a piece of paper and handed it to Bates. “Red Cunningham had his cell phone stolen. Check it out.”

“Yes, sir. On it.”

“Was Betty’s cell on her?” Jake asked.

“From what I understand, she only had a landline at her house.” Randall straightened. “I can’t imagine not having a cell.”

“Me, either. It’s hard enough that it doesn’t always work here.” They nodded goodbye, and Jake left the police station and drove the half a mile to the general store, which was close to the harbor on the main street.

He decided to grab a cup of coffee, because no one made it as good as Marge, then get the cleaning supplies. As he entered the store, his gaze almost immediately went to Brad and Celeste sitting at a table talking. Neither saw him, and he hoped it stayed that way.

He stood in line a couple of people behind Sean O’Hara. They had been in the same class in high school. If he had been spending time with Rachel growing up, usually Sean was with him. Sean placed his order, then turned away from the counter.

“I just heard about Betty this morning,” Sean said when he glimpsed Jake. “She was such a good employee. I should have realized something was wrong when she went home early yesterday.”

Jake moved up in the line. “Linda and Rachel are planning a memorial service for her next week. Police Chief Quay said the church wouldn’t even be able to accommodate most of the people who would attend. If that’s the case, is there anything at the fishery that could be used?”

Sean rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know. I’d have to talk with Brad about it. I’m sure he would want to do something. Betty worked at the fishery for most of her life.”

Jake leaned toward Sean. “Yeah, I can hardly believe she’s dead. Murdered.”

Sean’s eyes widened. “Betty? Why?”

“You haven’t heard—a robbery gone bad.”

“I tried to stay away from the rumor mill. Betty doesn’t have that much.”

“That’s what Linda said. She and Rachel are at her house, trying to figure out what was stolen. I have a few errands, and then I’m going to help them later.” Jake stepped up to the counter to buy his coffee.

“I’ll let you know what Brad says about a bigger place for the memorial service.” Sean made his way toward the exit.

After Jake ordered his drink, he grabbed a basket and found the aisle for cleaning supplies, staying away from the café section where Brad and Celeste sat.

Jake finished his coffee and paid for the items he bought. When he stepped outside, the chill made him think about what had happened to Betty. Anger swelled in his gut. Why did bad things happen to good people? He’d asked the Lord that many times. Maybe life as a police officer in Anchorage wasn’t really for him? And yet, he’d only been home one day and a murder occurred in this usually peaceful town.

He walked around the corner of the large store. When he reached his grandfather’s SUV, the rear driver’s side tire was flat. He stuck the sack of supplies in the back and got out what he needed to replace it with a spare. As he knelt to fix the jack under the car, he glanced at the front tire—flat like the back one. Jake examined it and found a large slit in it.

This wasn’t an accident. Someone did this on purpose.

* * *

Carrying a sack of supplies, Rachel stepped into Betty’s house, drew in a fortifying breath and said, “Remember this place was trashed.”

“I’ve seen trashed before. Your dad was the messiest guy.” Hands full with a mop, broom and garbage bags, Aunt Linda entered a few paces behind Rachel. She glanced at the living room and blew out a rush of air. “Okay. This tops anything your dad did.”

“Probably more than one person did this. Going through everything takes time. Jake was stopping by the police station to talk to Chief Quay.”

Aunt Linda shook her head as her gaze skimmed over the piles of items on the floor. “I hope Betty didn’t see this. Everything in her house had a place, and she kept it that way. Very organized. It will take days to go through, but I’m determined to see if anything is missing. I have a good idea what she has of value that a burglar might want.”

“I can’t see this as a robbery gone bad. Everyone knows her in town. They know she has limited funds and just makes it every month.”

“Where do we start?” Aunt Linda leaned the mop and broom against the wall.

“In here. If we can get this room and her bedroom done today, I’ll consider it good, then after church tomorrow, we can come work on the kitchen. It’s the worst.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But first, we should check to see if her valuables are still in the hidey-hole in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’m sure the police chief would like to know if anything was taken as soon as possible. It might help him find who did this.” Aunt Linda crossed the living room to the kitchen entrance and halted. “This looks like a tornado went through here. Why were they emptying food boxes? What in the world were they looking for?”

“Some people have hidden cash in cereal, flour, whatever.”

Aunt Linda harrumphed. “That gives me the willies. What about the germs?”

“Usually they have them in something plastic.” Over her aunt’s shoulder, Rachel gestured to the open freezer, a puddle of water on the floor nearby. “People have been known to hide money and stuff like that in the freezer.”

“Obviously, it didn’t work. They checked it. But really, the intruders couldn’t have known Betty very well, or they wouldn’t have wasted their time.”

Rachel thought back to the panicked look on Aunt Betty’s face the day before. She could still hear the scared desperation in Aunt Betty’s voice in the break room. Why didn’t she talk to the local police?

Aunt Linda stepped over the worst of the mess on the floor and covered the distance to the counter area she’d described last night. With her foot, she brushed some empty boxes and cans away, then knelt. She reached into the cubbyhole at the junction of the cabinets. “Got something.”

Rachel stooped down behind her aunt. “Do we have anything like this at our house?”

“Nope.” Aunt Linda slid out a plastic bag with a few pieces of jewelry and another with several keys and gave them to Rachel, then she stuck her hand back inside. “There’s something else. Feels like one of her photos—actually several.”

When her aunt drew them out and examined them, Rachel looked over Aunt Linda’s shoulder. “That’s the shipping room at the fishery. Why would she take a picture of that? She didn’t work in that department.”

“I don’t know. Maybe there are more in her darkroom.” Linda glanced back at Rachel. “The camera she used was old—one she had for years. She still used film. That was probably her one luxury. Buying film and what she needed to process her own photos.”