Read Online Lethal Little Lies (Jubilant Falls Series Book 3) by Debra Gaskill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debra Gaskill
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disappointment. I really had hopes that this story might be along the line of those we’d written when Rowan Starrett’s hockey career was in full swing.
It didn’t look like it.
Silently Gary buzzed me in and wordlessly, we took the elevator downstairs to the police department.
Disappointment hung between us as we stood silently in the elevator. It was like we didn’t want to believe that one of Jubilant Falls’ bright lights had gone out.
That was one of the disadvantages of working in your hometown, I suppose. Gary and I had seen so many things happen to so many of the folks we’d grown up with—good and bad. Maybe if I’d worked at a big metro, like the Cincinnati Enquirer, that stuff wouldn’t have bothered me as much.
As it was, I’d probably known a sibling, a parent, a cousin, maybe even a child or spouse of most of the folks I’d covered on a daily basis. Sometimes, it didn’t bother me—there were just some folks who’d always been cursed to pair up on a serial basis with three of life’s dance partners: disaster, stupidity or bad luck. Most of those folks had stupidity on their dance cards more than once. Others had lives that never knew pain or stress until those moments just before I came into their lives and put their own personal crisis on the front page of the paper. Gary knew it as well as I did.
The elevator door opened to the police waiting room. He waved at the dispatcher behind the bulletproof glass. She buzzed us through to the labyrinth of basement hallways and offices that made up the JFPD. I followed him down halls painted in institutional neutral colors to his assistant chief’s office.
He pointed at a chair for me and slid behind his desk into his city-issue chair.
“We’re on the record now, right?” I pulled a pen from my purse and opened my reporter’s notebook.
“Yes.” He leaned back, stared at the ceiling and gave me the details, press release perfect. “JFPD officers responded to an address on East Harmon Street at six thirty-five this evening on the report of gun shots. On arrival, we found a 45-year-old female victim named Virginia Ferguson lying in the doorway of the home. She had been shot twice in the chest. We found a number of .38-caliber shells in and around the doorway. EMS transported Ms. Ferguson to the hospital, where she was taken into surgery and where she later died. Prior to going into surgery, the victim identified her shooter as Rick Starrett. The Jubilant Falls Police department is currently searching for Mr. Starrett, whose whereabouts are unknown.”
“Got it.”
Gary leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “So tell me what he told you in your office.”
“Basically that she was the reason he lost the election—he specifically cited those nasty commercials that connected him with his brother Rowan’s theft and gambling charges. He was going to file a complaint with the Ohio Election Commission and basically, quote, ‘I’m going to hit her where it hurts.’”
“That’s a direct quote?”
I nodded.
“When did that happen?”
“Somewhere after deadline—in the afternoon.”
“Sounds like motive to me.”
“He was pretty pissed off, pounding on my desk.”
Gary sighed. “We have uniforms out looking for him and a state-wide BOLO. That Solstice won’t be easy to hide.”
“I hate to say it, but those ads would send anyone over the edge. They were vicious.”
It didn’t look like it.
Silently Gary buzzed me in and wordlessly, we took the elevator downstairs to the police department.
Disappointment hung between us as we stood silently in the elevator. It was like we didn’t want to believe that one of Jubilant Falls’ bright lights had gone out.
That was one of the disadvantages of working in your hometown, I suppose. Gary and I had seen so many things happen to so many of the folks we’d grown up with—good and bad. Maybe if I’d worked at a big metro, like the Cincinnati Enquirer, that stuff wouldn’t have bothered me as much.
As it was, I’d probably known a sibling, a parent, a cousin, maybe even a child or spouse of most of the folks I’d covered on a daily basis. Sometimes, it didn’t bother me—there were just some folks who’d always been cursed to pair up on a serial basis with three of life’s dance partners: disaster, stupidity or bad luck. Most of those folks had stupidity on their dance cards more than once. Others had lives that never knew pain or stress until those moments just before I came into their lives and put their own personal crisis on the front page of the paper. Gary knew it as well as I did.
The elevator door opened to the police waiting room. He waved at the dispatcher behind the bulletproof glass. She buzzed us through to the labyrinth of basement hallways and offices that made up the JFPD. I followed him down halls painted in institutional neutral colors to his assistant chief’s office.
He pointed at a chair for me and slid behind his desk into his city-issue chair.
“We’re on the record now, right?” I pulled a pen from my purse and opened my reporter’s notebook.
“Yes.” He leaned back, stared at the ceiling and gave me the details, press release perfect. “JFPD officers responded to an address on East Harmon Street at six thirty-five this evening on the report of gun shots. On arrival, we found a 45-year-old female victim named Virginia Ferguson lying in the doorway of the home. She had been shot twice in the chest. We found a number of .38-caliber shells in and around the doorway. EMS transported Ms. Ferguson to the hospital, where she was taken into surgery and where she later died. Prior to going into surgery, the victim identified her shooter as Rick Starrett. The Jubilant Falls Police department is currently searching for Mr. Starrett, whose whereabouts are unknown.”
“Got it.”
Gary leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “So tell me what he told you in your office.”
“Basically that she was the reason he lost the election—he specifically cited those nasty commercials that connected him with his brother Rowan’s theft and gambling charges. He was going to file a complaint with the Ohio Election Commission and basically, quote, ‘I’m going to hit her where it hurts.’”
“That’s a direct quote?”
I nodded.
“When did that happen?”
“Somewhere after deadline—in the afternoon.”
“Sounds like motive to me.”
“He was pretty pissed off, pounding on my desk.”
Gary sighed. “We have uniforms out looking for him and a state-wide BOLO. That Solstice won’t be easy to hide.”
“I hate to say it, but those ads would send anyone over the edge. They were vicious.”
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