Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I saw what she meant. The report stated the priest was found with a gun in his hand, which supported the theory he let the killer or killers in after he and Bonnie arrived, together or separately.
“So, the killer or killers enter the room and shoot Bonnie first. Why?”
“They didn’t want her to hear whatever they needed to discuss with Mueller. That’s my theory so far.” Beck looked under the bed and then up at me. “Why do you think Bonnie was killed first?”
“Crime scene photos showed her blood was darker and indicated some of her blood was on Mueller’s clothes.”
Her smile spread slowly. “You don’t miss a beat, huh, Ellison?”
“I’m trying not to,” I told her honestly. “The report says the gun in Mueller’s hand was the one that killed Bonnie. Any word on fingerprints? Ballistics?
“Still waiting,” she said, distracted. “It doesn’t make sense that he would kill her, though.”
“Agreed.” Then another thought occurred to me. “What if Mueller lured her here thinking she knew something about the priest murders over the past few years? The cops did accuse her at one time.”
Beck rolled her eyes. “That was just shitty police work. Feds wanted a patsy, but it didn’t work out like they’d planned.”
“So you don’t think Bonnie was involved in those murders?”
Beck laughed, and once she realized I was serious, she shook her head. “No. But maybe Mueller believed it and didn’t realize there’s a far better suspect for those crimes than Bonnie. I think she was just a disgruntled housewife.”
“Disgruntled? Why do you think she was disgruntled?”
“You read her bio?”
I nodded, and Beck gave me the story anyway.
“Before the Ashbys, she was a good girl who went to church and only partied when her college roommate—your cousin, I believe—pulled her out of her shell. It was only after her arrest and then getting mixed up with the Ashby family that her life went to shit, and then ended altogether.”
I couldn’t be sure, but there was a hint of venom in her voice when she spoke of the Ashbys. I’d have to look into that.
“I knew she’d been arrested and that nothing had come of it, but that’s about it.”
Beck turned to me. Her eyes serious. “Aren’t you worried about your cousin, though?”
“Nope. Maisie’s a big girl, and she’s married into the Ashby family now, so I have to assume Virgil will keep her safe.”
Beck pursed her lips and opened them with a ‘pop’.
“Calvin probably thought he could keep Bonnie safe as well. But he’s a computer geek, not a real criminal like the rest of the family, which brings me back to the disgruntled housewife angle.”
It was complicated but I understood Beck’s reasoning. “You want me to do more digging into Bonnie?”
She nodded. “Top priority is looking into Dietrich Mueller, but I’m curious why Bonnie Ashby was meeting with him. I’m looking into it, but you might have better luck getting answers.”
She didn’t have to say that she expected me to use my criminal connections to find out. The look she gave me said it all.
I wouldn’t hesitate to use every tool possible to help solve this crime because it was my job and because I remembered Bonnie as a shy, quiet girl who deserved a better ending than a bullet in the head. Some of those tools would be criminal, but not all because I had more connections than Agent Beck knew. Hell, I could look into her personal life with the connections I had.
“Consider it done.”
“Good. And if you learn anything useful about the members of the Ashby family, I would be grateful.” Something about her tone was odd. I nodded because I had no loyalty to the Ashby family, and if helping Beck would help my career, well that was good for both of us.
We spent another hour at the crime scene, with Beck looking at every inch of the room while I took photos and notes to refer to later. There was something strange about the crime scene, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I needed some time to figure it out, and I would.
Back at the precinct, I jumped on a computer and did as much digging as I could into the life of Bishop Dietrich Mueller, which, weirdly enough, didn’t take all that long. That piqued my interest even more, and I decided to head out and see what kind of intel the streets had on Mueller.
On my way to the car, my phone buzzed with a text from Madison.
Madison: Dinner tonight? On me?
Jameson: Sure, what’s the occasion?
Madison: None. I want to see my friend and celebrate your first day of being a G-man. Who knows?
I laughed out loud at her words and typed a quick response accepting her dinner invitation.
Jameson: Do I have to dress up?
Madison: Yep. MIB Fifth Street Diner. 9pm Don’t be late.