13
Jude
“What did you guys learn about Crawford?” Cope asked, looking anxious.
“You and Ten were right that he’s been at this for a long time.
Jonas Crawford is one of a dozen aliases he’s used over the last twenty years alone,” Jude said.
“None of the identities have criminal records and there are no warrants sworn out against him, which makes me wonder why he’s changing his name every two years or so. ”
“My guess is that he changes his name when he wears out his welcome in a certain place. With the internet and social media, it would be hard for him to screw over Salem and then set up his circus tent in another state using the same alias.”
“Good point,” Ronan said.
“He was a complete and total horse’s ass when I met him a few days ago. Madam Aurora texted me that she got the same cold greeting and warning when she went to introduce herself. He plans to steal our clients. Obviously he hates other psychics and is difficult to get along with.”
“It stands to reason that he’s an asshole with other people as well. Business owners, wait staff, the girl working the drive thru window at McDonalds.” Jude sighed. “Makes sense he’d get out of town when he’d alienated or angered all his clients or when they realized he was trouble.”
Jude watched Cope in the rearview mirror. He looked exhausted. Neither of them had gotten a good night’s sleep. “You okay?”
Cope shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll make it. All I want to do is get home to the kids. It’s pizza night. I want to eat in front of the television and watch episodes of Bluey with Lizzie.”
“But you’re worried that this Crawford thing is going to rear its ugly head again tonight?”
“I am,” Cope agreed. “I’m also worried about West Strickland. If we could get that man some answers about his mother’s murder, that might go a long way with him recommending funding for the cold case team. Solving her murder would also make me feel like I’ve accomplished something good.”
“You do a lot of good, Cope,” Ronan said. “You and Ten both. The cold case team wouldn’t be half as successful as it is without the two of you.”
“Thanks, Ronan. I appreciate you saying that.”
Jude kept his thoughts to himself as he followed the navigation prompts.
He’d never worked a case before with so much personally at stake.
He believed Cisco wholeheartedly when he said there would be a battle to keep cold case funded, but there was a part of Jude who believed getting West Strickland on their side was key.
Half an hour later, Jude pulled up in front of a cute little house in the middle of a cul-de-sac. It was painted white with grey shutters. The yard looked like it hadn’t been mowed in weeks and there were abandoned toys all over the front yard and in the driveway. “This is it.”
“Who is this woman and what was she to Alice Strickland?” Cope asked.
“Her name is Peggy McHugh. According to West, the women have known each other since high school. Peggy was Alice’s best friend.”
Cope snorted. “Some best friend. Wait until you hear her story, if she tells it, that is.”
Jude couldn’t wait to question Peggy. He had a feeling this interview was going to get a bit feisty when Cope revealed what he knew. He got out of the SUV and approached the front door. When he rang the bell a commotion started inside the house. Tiny voices were raised and dogs began to bark.
Ronan rolled his eyes. “I need this chaos like a hole in the head.”
Cope chuckled along with him.
“Who the hell are you?” a dirty-looking little boy asked when he flung open the door.
Jude pulled out his badge. “We’re here to see Peggy.”
The child slammed the door. “Gram! It’s the cops! We’re busted! Hide! Everyone, scatter!”
“What the hell is going on here?” Ronan knocked on the door. “We’re here to speak with Peggy about Alice Strickland. No one is getting arrested or sent to jail.” Ronan turned to Jude. “You told her we were coming, right?”
Jude nodded. “I spoke with Peggy this morning.”
“What the hell do you want?” an older woman asked from the other side of the closed door.
“This is Detective Jude Byrne from the Salem Police Department, we’re working with the Cambridge Police on Alice Strickland’s case. We want to speak with you about Alice and who her enemies might have been around the time of her murder.”
The door was wrenched open. The woman who answered the door was dressed in a pink caftan and matching turban.
She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall with a face that was craggier than the Rocky Mountains.
Jude had a feeling that was thanks to a lifetime of cigarettes, booze, and bad choices.
“Alice? What the hell do you want to talk to me about Alice for?”
“This conversation would be much easier to have inside the house,” Ronan said. “I’d hate for your neighbors to get the wrong idea about why we’re here.”
“I’ll give you ten minutes. No more.” Peggy opened the door and ushered them into the house. “Kids, go play in the yard.”
Five small children ran past Peggy toward the back of the house. All were barefoot and two of them had something brown smeared on their faces that Jude hoped to God was chocolate. The dogs, two large German Shepards, chased after them.
Jude gagged when he shut the door behind him.
The house smelled of stale cigarette smoke, rotting food, and something else he didn’t want to sniff again to identify, most likely a result of the dogs.
Ten minutes was all he was going to be able to stand in the house.
Looking at Cope and Ronan, they were in the same boat.
Peggy led them into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink and the counter beside it. Flies buzzed around the plates and the soiled skillet on the stovetop. “You want a cup of coffee?”
“No!” Jude half-shouted. Christ, he didn’t want to think of the number of illnesses he’d contract from this house just by standing in it, never mind eating or drinking something prepared here.
“We’ve got a long ride back to Salem, Mrs. McHugh,” Cope said.
“What can you tell us about Alice Strickland?” Jude asked, pulling out his notebook.
“We knew each other from school. I was in her wedding when she married Al Strickland. He was nothing but an asshole with a big dick, but Alice loved him anyway. Well, at least until he knocked her up and started sleeping with a friend of hers.”
“Were you the friend?” Ronan asked.
“Why the fuck would you ask me that?” Peggy shot back. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one, taking a long puff.
“You said Al had a big dick. I assumed you knew that because you’d taken it out for a spin.” Jude made like he was going to elbow Peggy, but was afraid he’d never get her stank off his arm.
Peggy laughed. It sounded like a rusted screen door swinging on its hinges. “Yeah, I fucked him a time or two. Big dicks don’t mean shit if you come in the first thirty seconds.” She laughed again, which turned into a coughing fit.
“Good to know,” Ronan said. “Do you remember what happened the night Alice died?” He looked anxious to get this interview over and done with.
“Yeah, it was a Friday night. We’d been out the night before.
Girls night. Probably the last one we were gonna have for a while.
Alice was pretty sure her boyfriend Chet Parks was going to propose.
I knew he wasn’t because I was fucking him on the side.
He was going to break up with her to marry me, but then Alice was murdered, so that took care of that. ”
Jude’s mouth fell open. He shut it quickly so no flies flew inside. “Did Chet have anything to do with Alice’s murder? Did you?”
“Do I look like the kind of woman who’d commit murder?”
As a matter of fact Peggy looked just like the kind of woman who’d commit murder, but Jude wasn’t going to say that out loud. “Of course not,” he said instead. “We just have to check off all the boxes. Were you with Alice that night?”
“No, I was with Chet. Every Friday was Alice’s date night with that son of hers who was too good for the likes of me.
Little prick.” Peggy took another deep drag from her butt.
“Chet came over around dinner time, we ate, fucked, ate some more, fucked some more. West called around lunchtime on Saturday to tell me Alice was dead and that the police wanted to speak with me.”
“Did you speak with the police?” Jude knew she had, but wanted to hear how Peggy would answer the question.
“Sure did. They knew about my seeing Chet and accused me of killing her. Thank fuck for my phone showing where I was all night. Chet’s too. We were off the hook after that.”
“Do you know anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Alice, or had a grudge against her?”
“No, everyone loved Alice. Well, except her ex-husband and Chet.” Peggy took another drag and stamped her cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray.
“Now hold on one second. There was someone giving Alice a hard time. Some asshole psychic named Victor Hughes. She’d been seeing him once a week for answers about Chet and his intentions for the future, but had stopped going right before the murder because he’d told her Chet was fucking around.
I went to him for a while too. That’s how I knew Chet was mine for the taking.
He was pissed to lose her as a customer.
I guess he’d lost a lot of customers, because the week after the murder, Hughes was gone, and his shop boarded up tight. ”
Jude looked to Cope, who nodded, telling him the woman was telling the truth.
“Peggy, is this Victor Hughes?” Cope pulled up a picture on his phone and showed it to her.
“Yup, that’s him all right. Bastard looks younger now than when I knew him. Probably made a deal with the devil or some shit. I should have gone for him instead of Chet. Look what that son-of-a-bitch left me with; a shitty house and shittier grandkids.”
Wasn’t that the truth, Jude thought, trying not to grimace. “Where is Chet now? We’d like to speak with him too.”
Peggy laughed again. “You’re not gonna have much luck. Asshole died six months ago. Lung cancer. Is that all you boys need? I’ve got shit to do.”
“That’s all,” Cope said. “Thank you for your time and hospitality.” He moved quickly toward the front door.
“Yes, thank you,” Jude echoed and followed Cope outside into the fresh air.
When they were safe inside the SUV, Jude eyed his husband in the rearview mirror. “Whose picture did you show her?”
Cope held up his phone. “Jonas Crawford’s. I snapped this at his shop the other day.”
“What?” Ronan asked, turning in his seat to get a better look at the photo. “Alice and Peggy knew Jonas Crawford fifteen years ago?”
“I guess that answers why he kept changing his name. Does anyone else think Crawford, or Hughes, as he was known then, is behind not only Alice’s murder, but Paul Shea and Cindy Walsh’s too?”
Cope nodded. “We’ve got to do something about this guy before he strikes again.”
“Agreed,” Jude said. “I want to speak with West and for you, Ten, and Everly to read him. Hopefully Alice will show up and we can get more answers from her.”
“I’ll call Ten on the way home and see what he thinks. Everly should be getting off the bus around the time we get back to Salem.” Ronan pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
Jude jerked in his seat. He started scratching his arms. “I’m gonna need a long, hot shower, before we do anything else. I’ve got that creepy-crawly feeling.” Jude started the car and hightailed it out of Peggy McHugh’s neighborhood.
If Crawford was involved with Alice Strickland’s murder and now could be caught up in the murders in Salem, they could very well be on the trail of a serial killer.
Who the hell would suspect a psychic of committing murder?
Usually when someone was killed the suspicion landed on intimate partners, family, and enemies.
It was possible people close to the victims didn’t even know they saw psychics, which meant Crawford, or whatever the hell his real name was, could have been killing people for decades with no one being the wiser.
They needed to find evidence to get this man off the streets of Salem before he claimed his next victim.