Murder on the guadalupe, p.1
Murder On the Guadalupe, page 1
Also By Bruce Hammack
* * *
The Fen Maguire Mystery Series
Murder On The Brazos
Murder On The Angelina
Murder On The Guadalupe
Murder On The Wichita
Coming October 2023
* * *
The Smiley and McBlythe Mystery Series
Exercise Is Murder
Jingle Bells, Rifle Shells
Pistols And Poinsettias
Five Card Murder
Murder In The Dunes
The Name Game Murder
Murder Down The Line
Vision Of Murder
Mistletoe, Malice And Murder
* * *
The Star of Justice Series
Long Road to Justice
A Murder Redeemed
A Grave Secret
Justice On A Midnight Clear
* * *
See my latest catalog of books at brucehammack.com/books.
Fen Maguire has one last case to solve before his illustrious career ends as Newman County’s sheriff.
Get your copy of Murder On Shinbone Creek, the prequel to the Fen Maguire Mystery series.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Jingle Bells, Rifle Shells Excerpt
From The Author
Also By Bruce Hammack
About The Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Four loud knocks sounded on the door to the upscale condo overlooking the Guadalupe River. The coffee cup with the day’s first sip of hot eye-opener was on its way to Fen’s lips when the unexpected racket caused him to flinch. In the time it took to blink, he’d scalded his chin, spilled coffee on the glass-topped table, and splattered the T-shirt he’d slept in. A fair amount of coffee had also traveled down to his sleep shorts, causing him to spring up and bellow a made-up word expressing extreme displeasure.
He jerked the leading edge of the paper towels hanging from under a kitchen cabinet and the entire roll came down. It hit the counter, tumbled off the edge, and continued unrolling, leaving a wake of white on the kitchen floor.
By the time he arrived at the front door, four more knocks had sounded, even more insistent than their predecessors. Mumbles of displeasure flowed as Fen twisted the doorknob and tried to jerk open the barrier. It held fast. Not only had he failed to release the dead bolt, but a brass safety chain also stared back at him as if to mock and add an extra insult to his bleary-eyed attempt to complete simple tasks.
Fen’s thoughts ran through a short list of who might be disturbing his early-morning ritual and why. The first suspect who crossed his mind was Bailey. “What kind of trouble has she gotten herself into?” he asked, though no one was there to answer. At eighteen years, and unrepentant about much of her checkered past, she seemed the most likely candidate.
The only other possibility that came to his caffeine-deprived mind was someone playing an early-morning prank. This didn’t seem likely given the quality of the condo complex and the average age of the residents being five years past retirement.
It didn’t matter to him who was at the door. They’d get an earful about giving a man adequate time to answer. The metallic sounds of unlocking, unfastening, and turning a handle preceded the door flying open. Before him stood a young man wearing an oversized uniform of a City of Kerrville police patrolman with all the accoutrements. Everything hung on him as if he was a metal coat hanger.
“What do you want?” snapped Fen.
The man’s Adam’s apple traveled up and back down. “Sheriff Maguire?”
“Not anymore.” He let out a sigh that mixed curiosity with a hint of regret for snapping at such a pitifully skinny young man. “Out of curiosity, who wants to know and why?”
“Uh… Chief Strange sent me to get you.”
“I don’t know anyone by that name.” Fen tried to close the door, but the young man was quicker than expected and had his boot between the door and the frame.
Undeterred, the officer elaborated on the identity of the person responsible for spoiling a perfectly good June morning.
“Ben Strange is the new chief of police. The city hired him two weeks ago.”
“This isn’t a social call, is it?”
The deputy shook his head and pointed to the river. “A body washed up on the bank of the Guadalupe about a quarter of a mile past the bridge on Sidney Baker Street.”
“Isn’t that Highway 16?”
The officer nodded again. “It’s the main road that goes north to Fredericksburg.” He took a breath. “Chief Strange told me if I came back without you, I’d be using a mop with a six-inch handle to clean the holding cells.”
The ringing of Fen’s cell phone saved him from telling the cop that short-handled mopping sounded like a personal problem. If he’d had his morning cup of coffee and talked to a photo of his late wife, he might be in the mood to talk. It was a morning ritual he kept, and even the report of a potential homicide didn’t rise to the level of giving him the desire to break his routine.
With a step back, he waved the officer in and took long strides down a short hall toward the bedroom to answer the call in private.
The ringing stopped when he punched the green button. “Chuck, what are you up to? Lawyers don’t make phone calls this early.”
“They do when a well-connected person disappears and the police find a body fitting her description a few days later.”
Fen groaned. “That explains the cop in the living room with instructions to take me to Chief Strange… dead or alive.”
This brought a laugh from Chuck, followed by, “You impressed some important people with how you and your team solved the last two murders. Ben Strange is young, but those same people want to see him succeed.”
Fen thought back to the two murders Chuck alluded to. The first involved a small-time drug dealer in Newman County. Fen noticed his body floating down the Brazos River and soon found himself embroiled in a murder case that an incompetent sheriff couldn’t handle. The second investigation started as an extortion scheme against local truckers in East Texas. Things changed when a man was murdered while playing paintball.
Fen turned his attention back to his friend and chuckled. “My team? That’s a stretch. I have a hard-headed newspaper reporter and a young artist whose mouth engages before her brain.”
“You’ll need both of them again. Lou is packing as we speak. As usual, she’ll do research, keeping you informed of what she discovers, and filing stories with the press.”
Levity was missing from Chuck’s voice now. It was time to pay attention. “What about Bailey?” asked Fen.
“There’s a good chance Bailey will be a big help to you. We don’t have a positive ID yet, but a woman named Jewell Key went missing three nights ago.”
“There’s a student in the art class I’m teaching at the local university named Candice Key. In fact, I met Candice and her mother on Friday when the students checked in. Both are hard to forget. Jewell impressed me as being an expensive woman who’s used to having her way. She let me know right off how many contests Candice has won and that one of her works is on display at the Amon Carter Museum of Western Art in Fort Worth.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Jewell. What she said may or may not be one-hundred percent true. The story on Jewell is that she’s married and divorced enough rich men to buy what she wants.”
“How many?” asked Fen as he pulled off his stained undershirt and pitched it on the floor of the closet.
“Five. Two are successful entrepreneurs and another owns four sections of land with oil and cattle between Kerrville and Mexico. Next, there’s a politician whose name you’d recognize. Finally, there’s one who inherited ten acres of land.”
“Ten acres isn’t much to brag about.”
“It is when some of Houston’s tallest buildings are on them.”
Fen whispered the real estate mantra, “Location, location, location.” He paused long enough to take a breath. “Who can we expect trouble from?”
Chuck didn’t immediately answer, then Fen heard him swallow. Unlike himself, Chuck was probably enjoying a nice cup of hot coffee at his desk. After an audible “Ah,” he said, “A better question might be, which one won’t demand quick results.”
The officer hollered from the other side of the closed bedroom door. “Are you ’bout ready? Chief Strange wanted me to get you down to the river as quick as possible.”
Chuck spoke next. “It sounds like you need to go. Good luck and be careful with this case. If it’s Jewell, she’s rubbed shoulders with most of the upper crust of the state.” He took a breath. “Come to think of it, she’s rubbed more than shoulders.”
Fen pushed the red icon as Chuck roared wi
Three minutes later, he opened the passenger’s door to the waiting patrol car. It had been months since he’d worked a homicide and he needed to shift gears mentally. The scream of the siren on the way to the crime scene helped him refocus.
Chapter Two
It didn’t take long to arrive in a parking lot overlooking the river, near the city center of Kerrville, Texas. A platoon of vehicles from multiple agencies and city departments, many with staccato lights activated, announced the summer day had started on a tragic note. The thin officer, Brent Craven, led the way past a gauntlet of uniforms, down two long flights of concrete steps, and past first responders standing around with hands in pockets.
Fen stopped at the bottom of the steps and took in the scene. To his right stood a short concrete dam that slowed the flow of the river enough to form a wide lake upstream. Water spilled over it at a good clip into a canyon with a steep bank on one side and a gentle slope on the other. He noticed a walking path traversing the far bank with what looked like a discarded section of a blue tarp under a stubby oak tree.
To the left, at the base of the near bank, officers had strung yellow police tape from the branch of a scrawny bush clinging to the riverbank to a more substantial tree in a dry portion of the river bed. Two grim-faced city officers guarded the barrier as if someone might steal it. They reminded him of bouncers standing at the door of a nightclub. The two raised the tape at the same time to allow Fen to enter alone.
He continued along a flat stone ledge until he came to a semi-circle of three men. The uniform with silver-colored stars on the collar, a badge, and pistol on the hip gave away the identity of the chief of police. He wasn’t a tall man, but stood erect, giving him the appearance of authority. Brown eyes locked on Fen. Chief Strange closed the distance, lifted his right hand, and offered a handshake.
“Ben Strange,” said the newly-minted leader of Kerrville’s police department. “I hope you don’t mind taking a look and giving me your thoughts.” He cut his eyes to the two men looking at a body. She lay face down in a pool of calm water. Chief Strange lowered his voice to a whisper. “The fire chief will have his team remove the body after the justice of the peace determines the need for an autopsy.”
Fen lowered his voice to match Ben’s. “Who’s the man dabbing his head with a handkerchief?”
“Mayor Fred Bean. He’s a little high-strung.”
“Is he your boss?”
“No… and yes. The city council hires and fires, but he has plenty of influence with them.”
Fen compared his work history of ten years as a highway patrolman and another ten as sheriff of Newman County, a central Texas county rich in agriculture and oil, with the Brazos River running through it. In Texas sheriffs are elected, so he never had to answer to a committee, a fact that he was grateful for.
He turned to face the dam, away from the two men, so the sound of the river would drown out his voice as he asked Chief Strange, “What have you done so far?”
“Secured the crime scene and sent officers to each side of the bank from here to the dam looking for evidence.”
Fen gave a nod. “That’s good. Make sure they check out that guy on the opposite bank sleeping under the tarp.”
“Are you sure there’s someone under it?”
“Look at the shape. It’s someone sleeping or a huge blue sausage. The storm last night didn’t last but it came down hard. It’s possible the victim went over the dam and someone upstream noticed something.”
“I’ll expand the search area. Anything else?”
“I’d look farther downstream, too. Do you have a positive ID on the victim?”
“Not yet, but if it’s Jewell Key, I’ll need to schedule a press conference.”
He gave Ben a hard look. “I’m here to give you a hand from behind the scenes. The emphasis is on me staying out of sight and out of the press. I can find out more by being an artist and teacher than I can by flashing a private investigator’s badge.”
Their conversation came to an abrupt end as the mayor and fire chief approached. After handshakes and introductions, Mayor Bean took the lead. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under such circumstances, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maguire. Your reputation as an artist goes without saying, and we’re all delighted that you're here to help the university with its summer program for gifted high school students. It’s good to see you still have a hand in law enforcement.”
Fen hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “After twenty years of wearing a badge, I hope I learned a thing or two. Chief Strange asked me to take a quick peek at things. You know, out of an abundance of caution. I’m happy to report he has all the bases covered, just in case this turns out to be something more than an accidental drowning. I understand the Guadalupe has quite the reputation for flash floods.”
The mayor was quick to respond. “It’s not nearly as bad in town now as it was in the old days. The two low-water dams made a world of difference, but things can still get dicey past the second dam.” He pointed to water spilling over the barrier.
The fire chief, a grizzled man in his late fifties, took his turn. “Swift-flowing water can make identifying a body difficult. We try to leave bodies wherever the river takes them until we get the go-ahead. Of course, that’s not always possible with rising water.”
Fen asked, “Has anyone moved the body?”
“EMTs checked for a pulse, but that’s all.”
A shout sounded from upstream, close to the dam. Heads turned to see a police officer waving her arms. The chief’s radio came alive with word that she’d found a purse.
The chief keyed his microphone. “Unless it’s going to float away, don’t touch it. Take preliminary photos with your phone and walk out in the same footprints you made going in.”
Fen didn’t say it, but the purse likely held the victim’s identity. The chances of a body and a purse in the same general vicinity without the purse belonging to the dead woman were almost zero.
It wasn’t long before a man and woman dressed in white coveralls eased into the area the officer had vacated. They snapped photos of the rocky ground as they went, placed a yellow plastic marker beside the purse, and took photographs from various angles.
The chief’s radio crackled to life again. “Do you want us to bring you the purse?”
“Bring it, and get photos of the body before the JP gets here.”
It wasn’t long before the two-person team approached. The quartet of Fen, Chief Strange, the fire chief, and the mayor looked on as the female forensics officer opened the water-logged clutch purse. She extracted a driver’s license and announced, “Rose Cunningham. The address is San Antonio.”
The mayor let out what sounded like a huge breath of relief, followed by a whisper. “At least it isn’t Jewell.”
Fen spoke without thinking. “It’s still a suspicious death.”
Chief Strange nodded in agreement and added, “Jewell is still missing, and now we have the potential of two crimes.”
The chief and Fen took out their phones and snapped photos of the driver’s license. The woman replaced the license into the wallet and slipped the purse into a plastic evidence bag held by her partner. She went to the edge of the rock ledge and began snapping photos of the body.
A sense of partial relief seemed to settle over the grim scene. The woman at the river’s edge wasn’t the missing woman of notoriety. Good news for the mayor and chief of police… at least for the moment.
The chief’s radio came to life again with an officer giving his call sign and that of the chief. Ben cast his gaze to the opposite bank. The blue tarp was now in a crumpled pile beside someone sitting upright with his back against the trunk of a stubby oak. “What do you have?” asked the chief.
