Chapter 16
Sharpsburg Police Department, Sheriff Townshend's Office, Wednesday at 12:00 pm
"Sheriff I need a word," Booth said as he found Townshend leaving his office.
"It's lunch, I'm heading to the diner," the Sheriff told him.
"It'll have to wait. There is some information on the Leon Fick case you need to hear," the FBI agent put his foot down. Townshend heaved a sigh and turned back into his office and Booth followed. The Sheriff took the seat behind the desk and he offered one across from the desk to Booth.
"So what do you know that couldn't wait?" He wondered.
"Dr. Brennan talked to Margot. Seems you left some information out about finding Leon waving his nine millimeter around at her," the G-man said.
"What are you talking about? If I had seen Leon with his gun, I'd have arrest the bastard on the spot," Townshend defended himself.
"We found your fingerprints on the window sills at Fick' house. You sure you didn't kill him and then take his gun away?" Booth questioned him.
"That weapon at the very least was stolen evidence. Never mind the fact it could have been used to kill Sheriff Boyd and Sam Butter," the Sheriff gave him a look.
"The Jeffersonian confirmed that the same weapon killed both men and that it was owned by Leon Fick. Are you telling me you didn't want revenge for the death of your fallen comrade?" The FBI agent asked.
"Of course but legal justice. We have a small town. No way Leon ends up dead at the hand of a cop and nobody hears about it. What was Margot telling you?" Townshend wanted to know.
"That you were probably the last person to see him alive," Booth told him.
"I definitely was not. I went over to Leon's house when this whole mess started to tell him we were looking into his nephew's case but that was the last time I saw him before he ended up dead. Margot and he were real close. She was probably the last one to see him," the local lawman explained.
"How close were they?" The G-man wanted to know.
"Rumor had it they were sleeping together but I don't think anyone took it seriously. I mean she's ten years younger than he was," Townshend said. There was a knock on the door and the Sheriff went to answer it.
"Dr. Brennan, come in," he welcomed the forensic anthropologist.
"What did you find Bones?" Booth asked.
"Margot's prints are the unidentified set in Leon Fick's kitchen," Brennan nodded.
"So that settles it. She was the last person to see him alive," the Sheriff said.
"But how'd she kill him? I don't know about you but killing someone with a shotgun and potato silencer is hard," Booth told him.
"Defensive use shotguns can have barrels as short as eighteen inches. You'd have to have a special permit otherwise. I don't know about you but I highly doubt Margot is a shotgun toting librarian," Townshend shook his head.
"A sawed-off shotgun's overall length could be less than twenty-six inches. Much more usable for a lady," the FBI agent pointed out.
"Yes well Margot isn't registered to have any gun so unless she borrowed one from somebody…" Brennan's train of thought trailed off. It was unlike her and Booth gave her a look.
"What is it Bones?"
"How long was the shotgun you used to shoot Sheriff Wilkinson after he took Lily Stegman hostage in the Anthony Pongetti case?" She asked.
"The barrel was twelve to fourteen inches but that's standard for an FBI entry shotgun," he replied.
"Can citizens purchase them?" Brennan inquired.
"Yes but it requires passing federal, state, and local background checks, and a two hundred dollars for a tax stamp on top of the original cost. All of that would have come up when we ran her record for gun permits," Booth explained.
"What about relatives? She could have borrowed the gun," Townshend wondered. Booth thought the Sheriff made a point and was about to say something when his phone rang. Excusing himself, the FBI agent picked up the phone.
"Booth,"
"It's Steve. I got that info on a Margot Bartnik you wanted," the familiar voice on the other end of the phone replied.
"Ok, find anything good?" Booth wondered.
"Just that she has a prescription and receives pension checks from the local PD," Steve told him.
"Whose pension checks?" The senior agent wanted to know.
"Her husband's. He was killed in the line of duty about twenty-five years ago," Steve filled in.
"What was his name?" Booth asked.
"Mark Boyd," Steve answered. The reply he got was Booth hanging up the phone. Quickly he returned into the Sheriff's office.
"How come you failed to mention that Sheriff Boyd was married to Margot?"
"He wasn't. They had filed for divorce about two years before he died. It didn't seem like she would kill him so we let her go after an initial questioning session," Townshend said.
"Did she keep any of her husband's weapons after he died?" Booth wanted to know.
"Everything he had went to her after he died since he had no other family. I'll have Deputy Houser look up the records," the Sheriff told the partners.
"Good in the meantime we'd better go pick her up before she disappears," Booth said. The Sheriff nodded and quickly exited his office with the partners right behind him.
The Police Station, Fargo, North Dakota, Wednesday at 2:45 pm
Deputy Director Cullen walked into the police headquarters in Fargo and was immediately met by the Police Chief. They walked into the Sheriff's office and closed the door.
"Please have a seat," Chief Bob Wite nodded. Cullen nodded back and took a seat next to Sheriff George Knut.
"How is your agent?" Wite asked.
"He'll be fine. And your SWAT team member?" Cullen was trying to play nice with the locals.
"Checked out of the hospital about an hour ago. It was only a minor flesh wound. So is this where you tell me we've done a good job but you're taking Jay Moore with you?" The Chief wondered.
"Considering the severity of his crimes in Virginia, I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't take me back with me," the Deputy Director said.
"And what about Evan Smythe?" Wite wanted to know.
"After he has been convicted and sentenced to death in Virginia, you can have him but I seem to remember North Dakota not having a death penalty statute," Cullen told them.
"So screw justice?" Wite raised an eyebrow.
"Justice will be done for Mr. Smythe as it will be done for the girls Moore murdered when I watch them stick the needle into his arm," the Deputy Director wanted to make sure Jay Moore deserved what he got.
"Chief we have no say in the matter. He committed federal offenses and has to be punished accordingly," the Sheriff pointed out.
"All I want is justice for a citizen of my state," Wite said.
"Jay Moore will be charged with Evan Smythe's death as a Federal offense. He was a fugitive and then murdered your citizen and buried him across state lines. Even if he is convicted here on federal murder, a judge will be forced to find a state that still executes; in this case, Virginia. Now if you'll excuse me I have a prisoner to take to Richmond," with that Cullen left the office and headed for where they were keeping Jay Moore.
To Be Continued…
I understand that not everyone's opinion on the death penalty is the same but it is meant as part of real life and not my own opinion. That is not to say that I do not believe in the death penalty but to allow everyone form their own opinions about it.