Free Murder on the Lunatic Fringe (Jubilant Falls Series Book 4) by Debra Gaskill Page B

darkened apartment, alone.
    “Would you like to have dinner tonight? My place?”
    Before she could answer, I heard a woman with a heavy Russian accent speak.
    “Can someone help me, please?”
    We turned to see a tall slender woman with curly black hair standing in the entranceway. She looked like she’d been crying.
    “Yes?” I asked.
    “Is Miss Addison in office?”
    “No, I’m sorry, she’s in a meeting. Can I help you with something?”
    “I have farm with llamas—”
    “Oh!” Elizabeth spoke up. “You’re Ekaterina Bolodenka—Addison did the story on your animals and your fiber arts for Saturday’s paper.”
    “Yes. Someone is killing my animals. Last night it was my cashmere ram—this morning it is female cashmere goat.” She stopped to wipe her eyes. “My farm manager, Jerome Johnson, he find dead goat on doorstep this morning.”
    “Jerome Johnson? Is that Jerome Johnson the same man who was assaulted this weekend?” I asked, directing her to my desk.
    Nodding, Bolodenka pulled a wadded tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped her nose.
    “Why would someone do that to my animal?” she wailed. “Why?”
    I pulled a notebook and a pen from the piles of paper on my desk. “Tell me what happened.”
    “Yesterday, we have picnic with Addison and her husband,” Bolodenka began. “Wonderful, relaxing picnic on front lawn. We come home and find my Dasha, my ram, dead by fence.” She stopped and shuddered before continuing. “Someone cut his head off and—” she made a slashing motion from her throat to her belt and began to cry quietly.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said. “What happened this morning?”
    “Today, I am fixing coffee when Jerome comes in, with hands covered in blood. He has found another dead goat on his doorstep, the small house near barn.”
    “I know it’s hard to talk about it, but what happened to this animal?” I asked.
    She made the same slashing motion and once more burst into tears.
    Elizabeth came over with a box of tissues and handed her one, patting her on the shoulder.
    “I just never expect this to happen to my animals!” she said. “Me, it’s one thing—animals, it’s another.”
    “Have you filed a report with the sheriff?” I had a fairly decent relationship with the new sheriff, Judson Roarke. He’d replaced the old sheriff, Ernest Boderman, who retired after nearly thirty years in the position.
    Roarke had been Boderman’s chief deputy and my go-to source for any information for crimes in the county, since Boderman had a chip on his shoulder regarding the media and seldom returned anyone’s calls.
    Boderman was the reason why I began carrying a police scanner wherever I went, since showing up at the scene was just about the only way I would get information.
    “Jerome, he was going to do that. I thought Addison can help us, so I came here.”
    “Why did you need to talk to Addison?”
    “Her husband Duncan said she knew who punched Jerome, Saturday.”
    I lay my pen down on my desk. “Miss Bolodenka, the man who struck Jerome Johnson may have some connection to hate groups. It’s possible that Doyle McMaster is killing your animals to intimidate Jerome.”
    Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.
    “Let’s go talk to the police. Maybe they can give us some other information.”
    ***
    Chief G was finishing a phone conversation when Ekaterina Bolodenka and I walked into his office a few minutes later.
    “Yeah. Whatever you can find out let me know. Great. Thanks,” he said as he hung up. “Hi, Graham, what can I do for you?”
    “Chief, this is Ekaterina Bolodenka, and she’s having trouble with someone killing her livestock.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Anybody who hurts an animal is special scum in my book.” Chief G’s face betrayed nothing as he reached out to shake Bolodenka’s hand.
    “Thank you,” she answered, wiping her eyes.
    “I told her that McMaster might be a likely suspect, if he’s doing what you