Cupid’s deadly arrow

Still sampling g each f illing?” ” Sheriff Dave e Perkins teased Deputy puty

Sara Bailey while steering teering around 8 am traffic c snarls and cleanup crews.

“It’s my Valentine’s ne’s Day gift to myself,” she said, plucking another chocolate from the heart-shaped box labeled Ned’s Sweet Shoppe.

“If lovestruck Ned had his way, you wouldn’t be buying your own,” he said, dodging another branch.

Last night’s windstorm had left downed tree limbs, shingles and other debris in its wake. Since 7 pm, gusts had subsided from 55 mph to 40 mph.

“Get us to our crime scene in one piece,” she snapped, wiping buttercream from her lapel.

They were heading to Hauser’s Archery Range, where Neil Farley, custodian, had found owner Brad Hauser inside the gated target area, murdered.

Minutes later, they made their way to the well-lit scene, where Hauser’s body was approximately nine feet from the rear entrance.

“That’s some weapon,” Bailey said about the arrow lodged in his back.

“It punctured a lung causing massive blood loss. Killer had to be fairly close. TOD between 8 pm and 1 am,” the M.E. said.

“That shot must’ve taken lots of power,” Perkins said, noting the blood-soaked shoes, khakis, f lannel shirt and hooded vest. “Witnesses?” Bailey asked. “Nope. No bow, no prints. Custodian’s in the lounge,” the M.E. replied.

In three days, Hauser would’ve hosted his f ifth Valentine’s date night, where member couples competed against each other, followed by wine and chocolates in the lounge, already decorated with roses, balloons and candles.

“Guess the sweetheart shindig’s canceled,” Farley said.

“What happened?” Perkins inquired.

“I’m a so-so archer working on my distance. I arrive before my 7 o’clock shift to practice before the lights go off— they’re timed for 4 pm to 8 am. Members have gate keys for 24-hour access. I can’t afford the dues and work extra hours in exchange for range access.”

“Your activities last night?” Bailey asked.

“The gale hit while I was at my girlfriend’s place, where I stayed until I left for work.”

“Did your boss have enemies?” m Perkins asked.

“There were run-ins with members. I overheard him and Jerry Harker, his ex-wife’s boyfriend and a stone mason, arguing in his office about a ring, but I couldn’t make out words as the door was closed.” “Anyone else?”

“Andy Hammond’s machine shop was failing, and the boss threatened to damage his reputation by exposing his overdue fees. Grayson Forbes dumped him for spreading rumors that she was the reason his wife Samantha divorced him.”

S“What a soap opera!” Bailey exclaimed.

At 10 am, Harker, a walking ad for bodybuilding, was working at a construction site.

“Ironic for a backstabber. It’s true what they say about karma. He hated that Samantha and I were dating. She wasn’t into archery but sometimes accompanied me to target practice. To humiliate her, he purchased a ring for Grayson, supposedly a Valentine’s Day gift, bragging around town that it was identical to the one he’d given Sam. He wasn’t worth the consequences of my killing him.”

“Let’s chat with Grayson,” Perkins said after lunch.

“When’s the last time you saw him alive?” Bailey asked her.

“About a week ago after learning he’d spread lies about me and bragged about that ring. Who sinks that low? I never would’ve accepted it.”

“Jealousy? Revenge? Valentine’s vendetta? I’m stumped,” Perkins grumbled back at the department.

“Maybe not,” Bailey grinned, biting into the last chocolate.

Q: Who was the killer?

A: Turn to pg 51