Sitting watching Dateline air another story tonight about a husband who stood accused* of murdering his wife reminded me of a murder I stumbled on a few years back. I suppose the reason it strikes a chord is I'm always amazed how people can try to go on with their lives as if nothing happened. Pretty chilling really. Anyway,.................................
A few years back i had a house in a moderately rural area. Eight lots down, on the corner, was a "Party Store", as they're called here in Michigan, which is a convenience store that carries most of your staples, milk bread, beer, ice cream, canned soup, etc. A Mom and Pop 7-11. The road I lived on had modest homes on 1-2 acre lots surrounded by wide expanses of farmland.
Every day, about two or three times a day, I'd end up at the Party Store. Coffee in the morning on the way to work, something to throw in the microwave or some ice cream on the way home, and maybe a midnight run (10pm) before they closed for a cup of hot chocolate and whatever I may need in the morning. Often I'd stop in with a friend's kids in tow on their mission to "The candy store". The owner was always cordial, greeting the kids, giving them a free tootsie roll or whatever he happened to have handy. He'd crack jokes and seemed like an all around great guy. I remember one night I stopped by to pick up ice cream and was disappointed they didn't have chocolate syrup. The next time I stopped in, he had a free can of Hersheys on the counter waiting for me!
For months I stopped at that store, everyday, night and day. Then one night I decided to drive down there for some hot chocolate. (It was only 8 lots down but it was cold). I got in my truck and made the 30 second drive to the store. Pulling in I noticed I had a partially frozen leftover cup of coffee in my cupholder. I grabbed it, got out of the truck and headed toward the trash can outside the store, which was down at the other end of a wood porch that made up the front of the store. I stopped and tried dumping the partially frozen coffee out on the ground before I threw the cup in the can. When I turned to head toward the door I noticed the owner had his face up against the glass at the other end of the porch near the entrance and appeared to be trying to see what I was doing. I thought that was odd and had a weird feeling about it. I happened to be carrying a Beretta 92 Vertec at the time and remember reaching down to make sure it was secure.
When I entered the store I was greeted with a smile and the usual "how was your day" yada yada yada. All seemed fine and I grabbed a hot chocolate and headed home to late night tv.
The following morning I left for work a little late, about 10 and pulled in the same store for a cup of coffee. When I pulled in the lot there were two Sheriff cars, two marked State Police cars and at least one unmarked unit. That type of presence you just don't see in those parts. When I walked in the store the police were basically just standing around, the owner smiled again, "Off to work a little late?" he said. "Yup", I replied as I headed for the coffee machine,"Where's the chalk outline and police tape?".
No response. None. Not even a hint of a laugh.
Behind the counter was a new girl and the owner was training her on the cash register. I put my coffee on the counter and asked for a pack of smokes (I smoked back then). She rang me up, and as the owner watched he noticed she gave me 10 cents too much in change. 10 cents! I laughed about it, told the owner I'd see him later and headed off to the truck.
After a few hours I was back, it was about 3 that afternoon. Except this time I wasn't going near the store. Crime Lab Van, more cops EVERYWHERE, police helicopter, you name the asset it was there.
Long story short the owner shot his silent partner in the store the night before (about the time I went in for my hot chocolate) chopped him up, put him in the can I threw my cold coffee in, then drove 50 miles north and dumped the hacked up body in the landfill before coming back to open the store, train a new girl and qwibble over 10 cents.
10 cents. I'll never forget it.
*EDITED TO UPDATE THE END OF DATELINE per b san
A few years back i had a house in a moderately rural area. Eight lots down, on the corner, was a "Party Store", as they're called here in Michigan, which is a convenience store that carries most of your staples, milk bread, beer, ice cream, canned soup, etc. A Mom and Pop 7-11. The road I lived on had modest homes on 1-2 acre lots surrounded by wide expanses of farmland.
Every day, about two or three times a day, I'd end up at the Party Store. Coffee in the morning on the way to work, something to throw in the microwave or some ice cream on the way home, and maybe a midnight run (10pm) before they closed for a cup of hot chocolate and whatever I may need in the morning. Often I'd stop in with a friend's kids in tow on their mission to "The candy store". The owner was always cordial, greeting the kids, giving them a free tootsie roll or whatever he happened to have handy. He'd crack jokes and seemed like an all around great guy. I remember one night I stopped by to pick up ice cream and was disappointed they didn't have chocolate syrup. The next time I stopped in, he had a free can of Hersheys on the counter waiting for me!
For months I stopped at that store, everyday, night and day. Then one night I decided to drive down there for some hot chocolate. (It was only 8 lots down but it was cold). I got in my truck and made the 30 second drive to the store. Pulling in I noticed I had a partially frozen leftover cup of coffee in my cupholder. I grabbed it, got out of the truck and headed toward the trash can outside the store, which was down at the other end of a wood porch that made up the front of the store. I stopped and tried dumping the partially frozen coffee out on the ground before I threw the cup in the can. When I turned to head toward the door I noticed the owner had his face up against the glass at the other end of the porch near the entrance and appeared to be trying to see what I was doing. I thought that was odd and had a weird feeling about it. I happened to be carrying a Beretta 92 Vertec at the time and remember reaching down to make sure it was secure.
When I entered the store I was greeted with a smile and the usual "how was your day" yada yada yada. All seemed fine and I grabbed a hot chocolate and headed home to late night tv.
The following morning I left for work a little late, about 10 and pulled in the same store for a cup of coffee. When I pulled in the lot there were two Sheriff cars, two marked State Police cars and at least one unmarked unit. That type of presence you just don't see in those parts. When I walked in the store the police were basically just standing around, the owner smiled again, "Off to work a little late?" he said. "Yup", I replied as I headed for the coffee machine,"Where's the chalk outline and police tape?".
No response. None. Not even a hint of a laugh.
Behind the counter was a new girl and the owner was training her on the cash register. I put my coffee on the counter and asked for a pack of smokes (I smoked back then). She rang me up, and as the owner watched he noticed she gave me 10 cents too much in change. 10 cents! I laughed about it, told the owner I'd see him later and headed off to the truck.
After a few hours I was back, it was about 3 that afternoon. Except this time I wasn't going near the store. Crime Lab Van, more cops EVERYWHERE, police helicopter, you name the asset it was there.
Long story short the owner shot his silent partner in the store the night before (about the time I went in for my hot chocolate) chopped him up, put him in the can I threw my cold coffee in, then drove 50 miles north and dumped the hacked up body in the landfill before coming back to open the store, train a new girl and qwibble over 10 cents.
10 cents. I'll never forget it.
*EDITED TO UPDATE THE END OF DATELINE per b san
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