Waves of Murder: Clint Rugbee Mysteries, #2

By A.M. Holloway

Murdered senior citizens, a missing girl, and a hurricane.

Ralph and Etta's friends die one by one as Detective Clint Rugbee investigates their murders. He works to keep Ralph and Etta safe during this siege, but it becomes increasingly more difficult with a hurricane aiming for the hotel.

Clint blames the hurricane for taking him away from the hunt, but when the storm moved on, it left a trail of death, helping him solve his case of the missing and murdered.

Does Ralph and Etta survive the murderous rampage?  

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. Holloway
• Release date: Feb 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9781956648133

Book preview

Chapter 1

Chief Bray called as I entered the coffee shop. I chuckled because I knew she wanted me to bring her something. Rugbee at your service, I answered with a snicker, but I froze when she replied.

Detective, I’m on my way to a murder scene. Meet me at the apartment complex on the edge of town. Before Maisie finished, I turned and trotted to my vehicle. Flipping the lights and sirens on, I easily entered the traffic flow, heading to the only apartment complex I knew.

As I passed the police department, Etta stood at the front door with her eyes wide and her mouth shaped into an O. It makes her nervous when we use our sirens. She’s turned into the mom I lost as she and Ralph enjoy their budding relationship.

I followed a sheriff’s deputy to the scene when I entered the lot. I parked behind them and watched the driver unfold himself from the car. Deputy Bonner turned my way, grinning when he recognized me.

We greeted each other and walked to the scene. This apartment complex sits in the section of town that the Beachside Police Department and the county Sheriff's office patrol. We must wrestle to see who gets the scene, because no one at the county has classified the jurisdiction yet.

Chief Bray stood inside the apartment when we entered, speaking with the medical examiner. She waved us over. Hi. Sorry to put a damper on your Monday morning, Rugbee. We have a single female victim who appears in her mid-seventies. She drowned in her bathtub.

Doc Wilbur held his hands up, then stated, we’ve ruled it homicide since the victim has bruising around her neck showing someone held her under the water.

Deputy Bonner glanced at me while I jotted notes in my notebook. When I looked up, I asked, can we see the scene?

We followed Doc Wilbur to the bathroom, and sure enough, an older lady floated in her now lukewarm bath water. The bruising shows nicely against her pale white skin. Bonner and I scoured the bathroom for evidence, snapping photos as we completed the circle. There was evidence someone sat on the edge of the tub. While items floated in the water, we couldn’t determine if the victim fought her attacker or if the killer caused the things to fall into the tub. Turning, I followed the music, finding a radio sitting on a shelf next to the vanity.

Doc Wilbur slowed me down with his following statement. We found traces of silver glitter along the tub’s top, the bathwater, and that rug. He pointed out the rug he mentioned, showcasing the yellow evidence marker which sat on the rug's edge.

Glitter? Like the shiny stuff at Christmas? I asked with a head tilt. Christmas was months ago. Why would someone have glitter on them now?

Exactly like that.

I pondered the glitter as the scene played in my head. While the lady soaked in her bathtub, listening to music, the killer entered her apartment, drowning her. Have we found the killer’s entry point yet? All heads shook from side to side.

Bray took over, find it. He got in here undetected unless he had a key. We watched as the crime scene techs fanned out inside the apartment while Bonner and I inspected the outside. There wasn’t much activity in the complex, which I found odd. I expected to see folks getting in their daily walk before it gets too hot outside.

Bonner looks at me while we walk and asks, what kind of person kills an old lady?

Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, it takes a special person, one without a conscious. Those are the most dangerous.

Without a comment from Bonner, we continued our trek to the front of her apartment. Right off, I noticed it faced the woods, providing concealment. Then I hear Bonner call my name, and I walk toward him.

This is his entry point. The window is still open. But if he can fit through that space, he’s skinny. Bonner pointed at the window, then turned his face down. I have a shoe print, too. It’s not much, but maybe it will give us the killer’s shoe size if it’s the killers.

Notify a lab technician and have them cast it. Once there was nothing else to see here, we strode off to the wall surrounding the community. I want to find out how the killer entered the gated community since it sits in the middle of a twelve-foot-high wall. Did he have a pass code, or did he scale the fence?

We started at the wall across from the victim’s apartment. It took five minutes to find the shoe impressions from his leap to the ground. Bonner set a yellow numbered stand at the site, then radioed a lab tech of its location. We continued searching the area but found nothing else of consequence.

Once we completed our flowerbed inspection, we rejoined Chief Bray, who stood beside her car, speaking with Liz as she held a microphone.

We greeted Liz, but that’s it. She makes me nervous at crime scenes because she might overhear something we want to keep quiet. So, I’m extra careful around her unless I need her help.

What did you find? Bray asked.

Before I answered, I glanced at Liz and realized she had her phone to her ear. I’ll return to the office and start on the background of our victim. Do we have her identification yet?

Bray glanced at Liz, then down at her notes. Opal Abbot, 76, lives alone. Her son lives in Atlanta, and Doc Wilbur will notify him of her death.

I shook my head because I had no reason for someone to kill a 76-year-old lady. Did she cut them off in traffic or make someone mad at a store? Nodding to Bray, I’ll see you at the office. I turned and strode to my car, with Bonner following.

We cruised to the police department and parked right outside the front door. Bonner held the door open for me as we entered. Etta was on the phone, and she stared at us as we passed her desk. Bonner plopped down into a chair in my office and sighed.

What’s wrong, Deputy? Other than the murder.

She looks like my grandmother, Rugbee. He shook his head, trying to reason the death.

Bonner, I hear you. We’ll find out what happened. Her son needs closure. By the way, you should have an offer from Chief Bray shortly. I’m looking forward to working with you.

With his head bobbing, Bonner said, me too. What can I do to help with this case? His radio sounded just as he asked. They need backup at a traffic accident. He stood, then waved as he said, see you around, Rugbee.

Since he left, I found myself alone, so I used the time to conjure reasons for the victim’s death. When I couldn’t, I walked to the break room for coffee. On my return trip, Etta stopped me and asked me about the lights and sirens.

A lady drowned in her bathtub at the apartments overnight. Bray called me to the scene while I stood in line at the coffee shop. Etta’s eyebrows drew together.

I have friends that live there. Can you tell me her name? Etta asked.

Opal Abbot, I said as the color drained from Etta’s face. Are you okay, Etta? Here, let me help you sit.

Clint, she’s a friend. We shop and have lunch together. How could she have drowned? Did someone murder her? Why on earth would someone hurt her? Etta asked as tears spilled down her cheeks.

I nodded as Etta spewed questions. Then I said, Let me take you home, Etta. I’m sorry for upsetting you. I didn’t think about her being a friend.

Etta wiped her face and turned her tear-streaked face to mine. I don’t want to go home alone. Instead, I want to stay here and help you catch her killer. She took another tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes again because the tears flowed. Where do you start on a murder investigation, Detective Rugbee?

I stared at her, then answered. I begin with the victim’s background. Then I’ll move to a timeline, reconstructing her days before her death. Where she went? Who did she see? Then I’ll step out from there if nothing pans out.

Chief Bray entered the office and stopped in her tracks. Etta, are you okay? Bray glanced at me, then back to Etta.

Opal was a friend, Chief. We talked on the phone, and I’d shop with her when I could. Several of us would meet for lunch on Saturdays. I can’t believe someone would kill her. It makes no sense.

Chief Bray’s eyes grew wide when she heard Etta’s comment. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Tomorrow is a new day, and you can help us with Opal’s timeline.

I’m not going anywhere, Chief, but to help Clint with Opal’s case, Etta exclaimed, with a look of determination as a lone tear slid down her right cheek.

Well, then we need to get busy. First, I’ll run a background check on her. Then we’ll start with the timeline. But I need another cup of coffee while the background check is in motion. Can I bring either of you a cup?

They nodded in the affirmative, and I left for the coffee shop. Upon my return, Etta spoke with Ralph, telling him about the murder. He asked to talk to me, and I cringed because now he would worry about Etta’s safety, even though she didn’t live in the apartment complex.

Send the call to my desk, Etta. I’ll need to take this sitting down. I winked at her as I passed her desk. When I answered Ralph’s call, Etta passed my office, delivering Chief Bray’s coffee to her office.

I gave Ralph fifteen minutes to share his fears, then I squashed them, promising to keep Etta safe. He relented and said he’d see me later. I knew he would because he’d rehash everything he’s already told me. But I loved him anyway.

My coffee’s aroma made my office smell divine. I sniffed it, and then I tasted it. It went down hot and tasty. I sighed. Then I clicked on my computer and noticed the background waiting for me. Opening the document, Opal was squeaky clean, with no tickets, no traffic accidents, and no run-ins with the law. The report confirmed her last known address. There’s no mention of past due bills, either. Since the information was useless, I started on the timeline.

Etta, I’m starting on the timeline if you want to help, I stated, but I heard no reply. I didn’t repeat myself because she might be on the phone. Instead, I drew a line on my whiteboard, noting the time and date of death. I needed to fill in the blanks before she died.

My notebook sat on the side of my desk. I pulled it front and center, opening it to Opal’s scene. Anytime I start a fresh case, I dogear the page, giving me easy access. Several items popped off the page at me. First, the shoe impressions were at the window and then again beside the wall. Second, Bonner and I snapped photos of receipts from Opal’s desk. Finally, I hope the lab techs found more evidence than I saw.

I set a reminder on my computer to follow up on the shoe impressions. Then, I moved on to the receipts. They proved she visited the bank, her hairdresser, and the grocery store. I added the bank to Monday, the hairdresser on Wednesday, then she visited the grocery store on Thursday. Glancing at the board, I saw no reason for someone to kill her.

Etta entered my office and stared at the board. Then she added, Opal, Cora, and I met for lunch on Saturday, then we walked around downtown window shopping.

What time was that? She replied eleven to around one, and I added it to our timeline. Do you notice anything else missing? I glanced at Etta while she pondered my question.

Nope, that’s all I know. That doesn’t help, does it? Etta asked with a crackle in her voice.

Not yet, but the timeline is fluid. We'll add to our timeline as we learn more about Opal’s activities. For example, would Opal have stayed home all day on Sunday? I know her son lives in Atlanta, but I didn’t know if she attended church.

If she went to church on Sunday, she would’ve gone with Cora because I spent my Sunday with Ralph.

I’d like a word with Cora first. Can you make that happen? Etta nodded, then strode off to her desk.

Seconds later, I hear her speaking on the phone, then she yells at me, Clint, can you meet Cora at two today?

Yes. I jot a note, so I don’t forget.

I entered Opal’s information into the DMV. It proved she owned a 2017 silver Chevrolet Impala and carried valid insurance. I huffed because everywhere I turned, it was a dead end. Although I suspect it sits outside her apartment, patrol officers could locate Opal’s car for me.

Something bugged me, so I stood from my chair, stretched, and wandered to Chief Bray’s office. She grinned when she saw me. Things have been going well for us since I started working with her. Of course, I questioned our relationship when she accepted the Chief’s position, but we’ve handled it.

Chief. Got a minute? We agreed to use our titles while at work, but sometimes, we slip.

Sure, grab a seat. She closed her notebook and laid her pen on top, giving me her undivided attention. I need to work on that because I’m a multi-tasker and some conversations require the utmost attention.

Who notified you of the victim’s body?

She revisited her notes. the apartment manager called 911, and they called me. Why?

Curiosity more than anything. The victim lived alone and didn’t work, so she could have been there for days before someone found her. Instead, they found her within hours of her death.

Chief Bray continued, the apartment manager saw the victim’s window open, let herself inside the apartment, found the victim, and called 911. I gave EMS the okay to transport the manager to the hospital. She was in no condition to help us. I just spoke to her nurse, and they sedated her. It will be tomorrow before anyone can see her.

I’ll stop by to see her tomorrow, but she probably can’t add anything to the case since she found the window opened this morning. The killer was long gone by then. I left Maisie sitting at her desk, thinking about how little evidence we had in this case.

Was Opal an opportunity for murder, or was she targeted?

Once I uploaded the scene photos to my computer, I inspected each one, looking for an anomaly. On my third try, I gave up because everything looked to be in its place. Nothing seemed shifted from its original location, not even the couch pillows. If someone tossed her place, looking for something, they were tidy in their search.

Another reminder joined the others in my notebook. Bonner and Bray need to view the photos to confirm I missed nothing.

Next was lunch, and I asked Maisie to join me. She did, and we decided on our favorite Mexican restaurant. Tucked into a side booth, I thought we were safe, but somehow, Liz found us. I try not to show my displeasure at her interrupting our meal, but it’s hard.

Hi, you two. Anything new on the murder victim? Liz asked.

I answered in a clipped tone, nope. The investigation is only a few hours old. Then I shoved a bite of the burrito into my mouth. The smile she wore turned down.

Thanks, Clint. Turning, she huffed at my lack of information. While I liked Liz and I was happy for Toby, she seemed to take our friendship to the next level whenever something happened in town. I didn’t want to suspect she used me for information, but deep down, she did.

Lunch came and went quickly today. I shared with Maisie my meeting with Etta and Cora. She hoped we would learn something about Opal’s activities from the meeting. Toby and Maisie had a meeting to discuss hiring another patrol officer, so I was on my own for my meeting with the ladies.

Etta stood by her desk with her purse in hand when we returned from lunch. I thought you stood me up, Clint.

I didn’t realize the time. Let me grab my notebook, and we’ll be off to Cora’s.

As we drove to Cora’s house, Etta turned silent. She’d glance out the side window every so often, but she always turned back to the front. I didn’t pry because I imagined memories took over now that we’re heading to Cora’s.

Cora’s home was an eye-appealing brick ranch in a quaint neighborhood. A porch with a massive wooden swing greeted us as we walked to the front door. Her home has a two-car garage attached to the side, and she kept both doors closed.

When we stepped up onto the porch, Cora opened the door. She was taller than Opal but shorter by an inch compared to Etta. She invited us into her kitchen, where she prepared cookies and coffee. Etta winked at me as we sat because she knew I couldn’t turn down a cookie.

Etta introduced me to Cora, and the questions began. Cora had lived alone since her husband of fifty-eight years passed. She works part-time at the local library and spends time with her friends. Her children live in Tampa and Miami. She visits them when she can.

Cora confirmed lunch with Etta and Opal on Saturday. She also stated nothing out of the ordinary happened during their excursion, leaving me with nothing again.

While looking at my notes, an idea blossomed. This might be too difficult for you, but would you two consider going to Opal’s with me? I’d like for someone that’s been in her home to let us know if anything is missing.

The ladies glanced at one another, then Etta replied, yes, we’ll go with you.

I backed out of Cora’s drive and headed for Opal’s. The ladies spoke little as they contemplated entering their friends’ crime scene. Ten minutes after I left Cora’s, we pulled up to Opal’s apartment. The most noticeable change was the police department towed her car earlier to the crime lab, and those results were forthcoming.

The crime scene tape made an ugly X across the door frame, and both ladies hesitated. But I sliced through the tape, granting access. At one point, I thought they had changed their minds, but they pushed through it, entering the apartment. We began our inspection in the kitchen. Cora and Etta whispered amongst themselves as I stood in the family room.

Cora joined me first, then Etta followed. Etta spoke in a hushed tone, we saw nothing missing or disturbed in the kitchen.

I nodded and stepped back, giving them access to the family room. When I looked out the window, I saw the fingerprint dust on the corner of the table, and my pulse quickened. Maybe the crime scene techs found something. I could only