A Killing at the Creek: An Ozarks Mystery

ELSIE PUT AN arm around Lisa Peters’s shoulders. “Come on, hon,” she said, propelling Peters down the tiled hallway, toward the Division 2 courtroom. “I’m going to take up a quick plea. Then we’ll head downstairs to get you a cup of coffee.”

She could feel the woman’s shoulders shaking under her cotton blouse. Elsie felt an empathetic tug; she had also been the victim of an angry defendant. It was no picnic, Elsie knew.

After Elsie finished up the traffic business, she steered Lisa to the basement, where the courthouse coffee shop was located. Looking around as they entered, Elsie didn’t spy a vacant table. As she surveyed the shop, Bob Ashlock stood. Their eyes met, and Elsie registered a pang; she had not seen him since the terrible spat after returning from Oklahoma.

She and Ashlock locked eyes for a long moment. Just as she lifted her hand with a tentative wave, he looked away. He studied the round table, picking up a report that lay upon it. Elsie flushed, as if she’d been rejected at the school dance.

But he lifted his eyes and shot Elsie an inquiring glance. “You all want this table? I’m heading out.”

Elsie nodded, keeping her expression impassive. She and Lisa scooted through occupied seats and staked their claim to the table. When she walked by Ashlock, she said in a low voice, “Tanner Monroe attacked Lisa in the hall, after he was certified.”

“I hate to hear that, Ms. Peters. I expect it shook you up.”

Lisa didn’t reply, and Ashlock made a move to leave, without further comment. Elsie, adopting a nonchalant tone to compensate for her wounded feelings, asked him, “What’s in that report?”

He considered briefly before responding, “Better show it to Madeleine first.”

Elsie’s jaw sagged. Whatever their personal animosity, she never dreamed he’d cut her off professionally. “You’re kidding me. What is it you don’t trust me to know?”

Ashlock had the grace to look abashed. “It’s not that. It’s just that we’ve got a big break. She wouldn’t like it, not being the first to know.” When Elsie cut him a reproachful look, he added, “You know how she is.”

When she continued to glare, he relented. “You’ll keep it to yourself till after I talk to her?” he asked.

Elsie nodded, increasingly intrigued. Even Lisa, who had been sitting withdrawn and silent at the table, looked up with a flicker of interest.

Speaking a notch above a whisper, Ashlock said, “The coroner’s report shows that the deceased woman had sexual intercourse shortly before her death. And the crime lab just confirmed—­” He broke off to glance around, making certain he was not overheard. “The semen from the vaginal swab is a DNA match with the juvenile.”

Elsie dropped into a chair. “Well, shit.” She reached over and gave Lisa Peters’s shoulder a gentle shove. “What do you think about that? He never ’fessed up to nailing her, that’s for sure. Nothing about that came out during interrogation or in his written statement.”

Turning to face Ashlock, she looked up at him with an eager expression. “This is great. I’ve got an idea. That cocktail waitress, that one at the casino. You remember she said he hit on her?” She scooted her chair close to Ashlock. “That is consistent with his sex act with the bus driver. He must have had a thing about doing it with old gals, must’ve given him a thrill somehow.” Turning back to Lisa, she said, “When I said he likes old women, I didn’t mean you, Lisa. Obviously.”

“He did like me,” Lisa said. “He trusted me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling bad for Tanner Monroe? After what just happened in the hallway?” Elsie asked, with disbelief etched in her face.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I think. It just seems like, after Barry hung himself, the ­people in my office wanted to wash their hands of him. Get Tanner out of juvenile as soon as possible.”

“Well, hell yeah, they did,” Elsie said. Then she let out a theatrical sigh. “This is huge. Last week we got the fingerprint results back, with Tanner Monroe’s print right in the victim’s blood on that knife. And now this. DNA doesn’t lie. I’m officially done with any ‘poor innocent kid’ concerns. My shadow of doubt is put to bed. Finis.”

With fresh energy, Elsie continued to Ashlock, “You think we should talk to the Oklahoma waitress again? Nail down some details about the juvenile’s come-­on? I could call her. Or we could go back on Saturday.”

She paused when she saw the stillness in his face.

“It will be Madeleine’s call,” he said, rolling up the report into a scroll. “I better get this upstairs.”

Slumping back into her chair, Elsie watched him walk out of the coffee shop. Lisa turned and looked at Elsie with a confused expression. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Nah,” Elsie said. “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

Pride made Elsie sit up straight in the plastic chair. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “We were never all that serious. Sheesh. Cops.” Pulling a face, she muttered to Lisa, “Great lovers in the sack, lousy lovers out of it.”