Joe, the goats’ owner, had made quick work of setting up the fencing the previous afternoon. He’d come back today and turned a small flock of goats loose inside. Once everything was under control, he’d left to go meet with another potential client, promising to check back within a couple of hours.
Tripp smiled as he glanced in her direction. “Gotta say, they sure got right to work.”
Abby had to agree with his assessment. “I can already see a big difference. At this rate, they should have the whole area cleaned out in a couple of days.”
“Once they’re done, I can start hauling all that trash out of there. Any idea what you want to do with this corner after that?”
“I’ve been giving it thought. I’m thinking something low maintenance would make the most sense. It doesn’t get much direct sun, so I was looking online for plants that thrive in partial sun or full shade. It sounds like hydrangeas might do well here.” At least she hoped so. “Before I make any firm plans, I thought I’d take pictures and ask someone at the nursery for advice.”
Then something caught her eye. “What is that black and white goat chewing on?”
“Which one?”
She pointed toward the back corner. “The one with no ears.”
Tripp leaned forward to get a better look. “Looks like he’s gotten ahold of a piece of cloth. That can’t be good for him. I’d better try to take it away before he swallows it.”
He let himself into the makeshift pen and waded through the other goats to get to where the animal in question was still tugging hard on the fabric. From where Abby stood, it appeared to be part of a larger piece sticking out from under a piece of plywood. The material ripped free just as Tripp reached the goat. He quickly pried the fragment out of the goat’s mouth and tossed the soggy mess over the fence to Abby.
“There’s more under that board. I’ll pull it out of there before one of the others decides it looks tasty.”
Abby held the fabric by one corner, not sure if it was slimy from the goat chewing on it or because it had been out in the weather for a while. Probably a disgusting combination of the two. She held the soggy fabric out at arm’s length to study it. It appeared to be part of a patchwork square, one that looked vaguely familiar. As soon as she spread it out to get a better look at it, she knew why. The dark blue plaid had been part of a dress she’d worn when she was ten, one of several she and Aunt Sybil had cut up to make the quilt she’d been hunting for.
Her pulse kicked it up a notch. “Tripp, I think this might be from one of Aunt Sybil’s quilts. I’ve been looking all over the house for it, and I can’t imagine why she would’ve left it out here.”
“Only one way to find out.” He gently shoved a couple of goats out of his way. “It’s under a bunch of junk. Give me a minute to unbury it.”
A couple of pieces of rusted pipe went flying over the fence, followed by some broken flower pots and a length of garden hose. She carefully laid the quilt square on the back of the chair she’d been sitting in and then started stacking the trash Tripp was clearing out into a neat pile along the edge of the yard. When he finally unburied the piece of plywood, she asked, “Do you need me to come in and help lift that?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
The board bowed almost to the breaking point when he tried to lift it, but she could see more of the familiar pattern underneath the straining wood.
“That’s my quilt, all right.” Then she gagged as the breeze shifted in her direction. “Good grief, what’s that awful smell?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Tripp dropped the board and jumped back, looking a little green himself. She started forward, but he waved her back. “Abby, don’t come any nearer. In fact, take Zeke and go wait in the house. I need to call Gage.”
It took her a second to recognize the name. “Gage Logan, as in the chief of police? Why do you need him?”
Unfortunately, her mind had already connected the dots to come up with the obvious answer. She froze, unable to advance or retreat. “Tripp? Is that what I think it is under there?”
His dark eyes stared into hers as he gave her a grim nod. All business now, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a three-number sequence. “Yes, ma’am, I need to report a dead body. Please tell Gage Logan and whoever else you think should be notified. Yes, it’s in the farthest corner in the backyard. I’ll wait for him there.”
Abby held strong while Tripp verified the address and agreed not to touch anything else until the police arrived. Sirens began wailing in the distance, or maybe that was just the roaring in her ears. She was pretty sure Tripp was yelling something, but his voice sounded as if it came from a long distance away from where she stood.
The next thing she knew, the ground came rushing up at her as the world around her swirled and then briefly went dark. A pair of strong arms swooped in at the last second to prevent her from hitting the ground. Her thoughts cleared a little as Tripp stomped across the yard, carrying her over to the back porch. Instead of dumping her on the steps, he sat down and settled her in his lap before shoving her head down between her knees.
“Breathe. Take it slow and easy.”
He sounded so mad, but she couldn’t figure out what she’d done to anger him. After she’d sucked in several deep breaths, he released his hold on her and helped her sit back up. She blinked several times, trying to clear her head and make sense of a world that had gone all topsy-turvy on her, even if she didn’t immediately remember how or why.
Tripp glared down at her, looking as if the last thing he wanted was to be helping her, even though he made no effort to shove her off his lap. “Darn it, Abby, I told you not to faint.”
She might have mumbled “Sorry,” although she couldn’t be sure. The squeal of tires and tense voices told her the two of them wouldn’t be alone for much longer. But for the moment, she wasn’t too proud to lean into Tripp’s strength for a few more seconds.
“Tell me that was a dead animal buried under that board back there.”
His grim expression softened just a little. “I really wish I could, Abby, but I try not to lie to my friends.”
She didn’t know what shocked her more: that there really was a dead body in her backyard or that Tripp Blackston might actually consider her a friend.
Chapter Three
Abby pulled the collar of her sweater higher up around her neck. “I suppose it would be in poor taste to find it entertaining watching the police trying to corral goats to keep them from eating a crime scene.”
It wasn’t actually a question, but Tripp answered her anyway. “Yes, it would, but you’re not wrong. By my count, that’s the third time they’ve had to wrangle that same brown one out of the blackberries.”
She could only imagine Joe’s shock when he’d returned to find out that his flock had discovered a corpse. The goats might not have been traumatized by the experience, but their owner sure was. Right now two of the deputies were busy helping him load the goats back into his truck. Somehow she doubted he’d be coming back to finish the job anytime soon.
Abby shivered and turned away from the window when a pair of men in disposable coveralls wheeled a stretcher across her lawn. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but she had no interest in seeing what came next. “Was Chief Logan able to tell you anything about the . . . about who was out there?”
“No, but I didn’t really expect him to, at least not until he has a chance to get a handle on things. I’m sure there are procedures he has to follow in cases like this. I know Gage well enough to know he’ll do the job right. Snowberry Creek isn’t a very big town, but I’m guessing the county or even the state will have resources he can draw on if he needs to.”
Tripp poured himself another cup of coffee and topped hers off at the same time. She really didn’t need any more caffeine, but the warmth of the cup felt good to her hands. Although it was a nice day outside, she had been chilled to the bone ever since Tripp had left her sitting on the porch steps while
he went to meet the police.
She should’ve been the one to handle the situation from the beginning, but she was grateful that Tripp had been willing to step up to bat until she’d gotten better control of her emotions. By the time Gage Logan had arrived on the scene, she was back up on her feet and reasonably sure her legs wouldn’t collapse again.
Tripp stepped away from the window. “Looks like he’s headed this way.”
For reasons that weren’t clear even to her, that announcement spurred her into piling a plate high with cookies. After all, when guests came to visit, one offered baked goods and beverages, no matter the occasion. By the time Gage knocked on the door, refreshments were served. A bit of hysterical laughter threatened to burble to the surface. Aunt Sybil would be so happy to know that all the old-fashioned rules of etiquette she’d taught Abby had finally paid off.
Tripp gave her a wary look, no doubt worried she was about to go into another meltdown. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward to invite the police chief into her kitchen. “Please come in and have a seat.”
She gestured toward a chair at the kitchen table. “I thought you might like a cup of coffee about now.”
Without waiting for a response, she pulled out the opposite chair for herself. Tripp hesitated for a few seconds and then took the seat on her right.
Gage removed his hat and tossed it on the counter before sitting down. “Coffee does sound good, Miss McCree.”
“Please call me Abby.”
He pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “I’ve already heard Tripp’s version of things, but I need to take a statement from you as well if you’re feeling up to it. Otherwise, you can come down to the station later.”
She didn’t want to talk about the situation at all, but putting it off wouldn’t make it any easier. As if sensing her distress, Zeke appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. He ignored the two men as he crossed the room to lay his head in Abby’s lap. Gage’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth quirked up in a big grin.
“That’s some dog you’ve got there. What kind is he?” Abby gave her furry friend a quick hug. “Aunt Sybil adopted Zeke through the animal shelter in town. She said he was a mixed breed, but the vet’s best guess is that he’s mostly mastiff. He has the right build and coloring.”
She covered Zeke’s ears. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but it seems he’s a bit on the small side.”
The two men exchanged quick looks, clearly questioning anything about Zeke’s size could be called small. “It’s true. He only weighs ninety pounds. Male, purebred mastiffs can easily top out at sixty pounds more than that.”
Tripp shifted in his chair, drawing Gage’s attention in his direction. He patted Zeke on the head before speaking. “So what can you tell us?”
All vestiges of good humor disappeared from Gage’s expression as he instantly switched gears back to a lawman with a case to solve. “Not much other than the victim was female. There was a purse wrapped inside the plastic tarp with the body. We did find a wallet and a driver’s license. However, final identification will have to wait until the coroner completes his examination. All we know at this point is that the body appears to have been there for some time.”
“You said ‘victim.’ I’m guessing you suspect a crime has been committed, that it wasn’t an accident.” All right, that wasn’t the smartest thing she could’ve said. There was no way that body had accidentally ended up wrapped in plastic and a quilt under that sheet of plywood. “Forgive me. I wasn’t thinking straight. Of course something bad went down back there.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Gage looked sympathetic.
“Most people never encounter a murder victim in their entire life, much less stumble across one in their backyard. All things considered, you’re handling things pretty well.”
Another wave of chills washed over her. Tripp looked as if he wanted to ask Gage more questions, but she really hoped he wouldn’t. He might be curious, but she had no desire to learn any of the gruesome details. Still, it was her yard, which gave her some sense of responsibility.
“Is there anything I can do to help, Chief Logan?”
“Like I said, I need to take a statement from you. Other than that, we’ll be cordoning off that part of your yard as a crime scene until we’ve had time to collect any possible evidence. We may also ask the state crime investigators to take a look around, too. I should also warn you that as soon as news of this gets out, people are bound to be curious. If it turns out to be a problem, give my department a call, and I’ll post an officer here until we clear the area.”
She’d already noticed several of the neighbors lurking out front. So far, none of them had ventured any closer than that. “Thank you.”
Gage took another sip of his coffee and then set it aside. “Are you ready to get started?”
No, what she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over her head. “Sure, where do you want me to begin?”
“Tripp has already told me about Joe putting up the fence yesterday afternoon, so why don’t you start when he arrived this morning with the goats, and go from there.”
“He arrived right at eight o’clock just as he promised he would. I kept Zeke in the house until the goats were unloaded and in the pen.”
She closed her eyes and let her memories of the morning play out in her head like a movie. Gage probably didn’t need to know how many cups of coffee she’d had to drink or that she’d ignored a call from her ex-husband. He didn’t complain, though. Maybe he didn’t mind the worthless information if it meant that by going into such detail, she wouldn’t miss telling him something important.
Half an hour had passed by the time she’d finished telling her version of the events and then answered the few questions he had for her. Most had to do with the quilt she thought she’d recognized from the scrap the goat had been chewing on.
“I could be wrong about that, though. At first glance, it certainly looked like one of the squares the two of us had made that summer. On the other hand, it has been nearly twenty years since I last saw that particular quilt. Even then, we’d only finished the quilt top itself. We hadn’t sewn on the backing or done the actual quilting. We’d planned to finish it the next time I came for an extended visit.”
She stared into her coffee cup, lost in the past. “However, because of my parents’ divorce, I never had a chance to spend another summer vacation with her. Any visits after that were only a day or two long. When it became obvious that I would never have enough time to help her with the quilt, Aunt Sybil finished it on her own.” Tears burned her eyes as she added, “She promised I could have it someday. She knew how much it meant to me.”
Abby drew in a slow, calming breath. “Having said that, I know we didn’t completely use up all of the fabrics I picked out of her stash, so it’s possible she used some of the same ones in another quilt. In fact, the members of the quilting guild often trade fabrics, so it might not be one of hers at all.”
And here she sat rambling on and on. “I’m sorry, Chief Logan. I’m guessing you’re not interested in the ins and outs of quilting.”
“Not a problem. You never know which details will make or break a case.” He stood up and retrieved his hat from the counter. “I’d better check on how things are going outside. Once an identification has been made, and we have some idea of the time frame involved, I’ll get back in touch.”
Tripp went outside with him, the two of them stopping to talk for a minute or two before the chief continued on back to where his team was still hard at work. Tripp glanced back in her direction before disappearing around the corner, most likely heading for his own place. It was only midafternoon, but it had been a long day for both of them already.
“Zeke, why don’t you and I go upstairs and work on those boxes?”
The dog didn’t often follow her all the way up to the third floor, preferring to sleep in his favorite sunbeam in the living room downstairs, but she was
glad he made the effort this time. He gave the room a good sniff and then settled in for a snooze on the twin bed in the corner next to the open window. Meanwhile, Abby picked a box at random and got to work. It didn’t take long to sort through the old paperback books and add them to the donate pile. She opened the next box, but she ran out of steam before she’d delved very far into its contents.
The murmur of voices from the backyard drifted up through the open window, making it hard for her to concentrate on the job at hand. What were they doing out there that took so long? Only one way to find out. She sat down on the far edge of the bed and gave Zeke a good scratch while she watched the technicians and a few cops still hard at work. She didn’t envy them having to search for clues in that overgrown mess.
A movement on the other side of the yard caught her eye. Tripp had gone back to pruning the rhododendrons. She had to give the man credit for being diligent. On the other hand, maybe the morning’s events had left him feeling restless and in need of something to take his mind off whatever horrors he’d seen underneath that sheet of plywood. He suddenly straightened up and glanced around as if sensing her scrutiny. She ducked back out of sight and turned her attention to her furry companion. “Zeke, tell me I should finish at least three more boxes before giving up for the day.”
The dog snorted, making his opinion on working that hard all too clear.
“Easy for you to say, big fella, but these boxes won’t empty themselves.”
Zeke was back to snoring contentedly before she emptied the box she’d already started. When she’d gone through two more, she decided she’d earned the right to quit for the day. Granted, they were two of the smallest cartons, but they still counted. When she closed the window, several of the people working down below looked up at the sound. What were they thinking? Had they found anything that would point a finger at the person or persons responsible for the woman’s death? Abby hoped so. Like anyone who had lived in a major metropolitan area, she was no stranger to the existence of violent crime.
That didn’t mean she’d ever brushed up against it personally, and the realization that she’d been living so close to a dead body was creeping her out big time. Time to switch gears and do something else to keep her mind occupied.
Death by Committee Page 3
