by CC Dragon
I hugged her. “I know. I want the murder solved right now. I’m going to take some muffins over to the station and check on everything.”
Gran waved. “Have fun. No one is perfect.”
“Every dog should have a few fleas. Wait, me or Gus?”
“Both.” She shrugged.
“Jeff and Gus offered to help with the electrical. It’s not at all flirty,” I defended myself.
I bagged up a bunch of muffins and a couple of small jars of preserves then headed out. She joined her guys. “Have fun,” Gran called.
“Bye,” I called.
It was too far to walk but a short enough drive. Parking my old truck, I hoped I’d catch Gus here and not on a call or patrolling around.
I walked up and the deputies stood like I was the first lady of Tennessee or something.
“Hi. I brought muffins. Thought I could check on Jeff and talk with the sheriff,” I informed.
Lou nodded. “I’ll get the boss.”
The guys opened the bags. Gus came out of the office and removed his hat. “Come on back, if you like.” He grabbed a muffin.
I went into the office and he closed the door. This was exactly what Gran was talking about. But what could I do?
Chatting with all the deputies would’ve been tedious as they would all want to show off their theories. No doubt, Gus had already heard all of those already.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“No, thanks. I’m fine. Have you crossed any people off the suspect list?” I asked.
Gus sat behind the desk. “You, but plenty of people still think you’re a suspect. Sorry, Mrs. Woodson has no motive and could’ve covered it up much longer, so she’s clear. She was out to dinner with her niece when you and Luke were out at dinner, so that would’ve been the best option to put the snake in—when he was out.”
“The church service would’ve been good too. Most people were in church. Someone could’ve planted the snake in the house. Under the bed or somewhere he wouldn’t see immediately,” I suggested.
“That’d be handy. We could rule out all the church attendees, but whoever did it had overnight and into Monday as well. Time of death clocked around nine in the morning, so the snake probably came out at night and wrapped around him to stay warm. When Luke tried to get free, the snake would’ve felt threatened and tightened around him.”
“Is that what Animal Control said?” I asked.
“Yes, and I called up a few people who know snakes like this. With no pets in the house to eat, the snake might’ve viewed him as the only source of food but couldn’t swallow him.”
I shuddered. “Jeff couldn’t have done it. Luke would’ve known if he had a snake with him. Why would he keep a snake if he’d lost everything else?”
“I agree, but it’s curious timing. I’m waiting for a deep, dark secret,” Gus said.
I frowned. “You seem to trust Jeff enough to let him walk around the funeral.”
“With plenty of deputies and an ankle monitor,” Gus added.
“Pete cares about his brother. I know they had issues, but I don’t see him blowing into town and visiting to sneak a snake into his brother’s house.” I shook my head.
“I agree. Pete could’ve just stayed away. Unless there was a new development in their rift, but then why would Pete meet everyone and go to the trouble of attending a funeral? I mean there’s Cain and Abel…could be symbolic, but they didn’t use a snake.”
I chuckled. “True. It’s personal. The snake tempted Eve with the apple. Might be one of his exes who felt they were tempted.”
“You putting yourself back on the list?” Gus asked.
I tried to stop the giggles, but something about the topic tickled me. “We barely kissed. The chemistry wasn’t there. Not a temptation, sorry. The way Angie and Megan have all these feelings over him, it’s very clear he was a rebound for me. But he was always seeing two women at once, it seems. So they were seriously pissed off, and you can’t blame them. I wonder how many more ladies like them are out there. I had no clue, so it couldn’t be part of my motive.”
“I’m very glad,” he said.
“Did you talk to Larry?”
Gus sighed. “Larry talked to Luke about his being gay. You said Luke’s views were more conservative than you expected?”
“I’d never have gone out with him if I knew that. Working in Atlanta, I met so many people of all different religions, views and lifestyles. You don’t always get that in a small town.” I missed some things about the big city, but I’d never tell Gran.
“People like being with others who are similar,” Gus explained.
“We’re all the same. It’s just little details.”
“Gay is a detail.”
“Sure. It only matters if you want to date that person. Otherwise, it doesn’t change how you treat them…unless you want to set them up on a date, of course—then it affects your choice of person. Sorry, I’m rambling. Larry was looking for approval or something and Luke made him feel wrong and rejected. That would’ve pissed off his brothers, for sure. Plus Katie. But none of them would go the snake route,” I replied.
“What do you think they’d do?” Gus asked.
“Katie would probably ban the pastor from her bar. He never came in much anyway, but if his only reason was to judge people or make them feel convicted of something, she wouldn’t let him be there. The brothers might quit going to church and tell people why—if they did, Katie would too. But right now, Larry isn’t totally out to everyone, I don’t think, so that might be premature. Pastors come and go. They’ve lived here forever, so they wouldn’t go drastic over some advice and disapproval. Now, if the pastor got into one of the brother’s faces about it, saying Larry was going to hell and all that, they’d punch him, for a start. Those boys know how to use their fists, and family is family.” I chewed my bottom lip.
There was a knock at the door. “You wanted to talk to Jeff?”
Gus waved him in. “Get a muffin or two?”
“Yes, thank you.” Jeff nodded.
“We’re going over the suspect list. Anyone else you’d think of from the old church?” Gus asked.
Jeff shook his head. “I wasn’t a member, but I’m sure he upset a couple or two in counseling. He had a lot of opinions for never having been married.”
“We’re still looking at Angie and Megan, but I can’t imagine those ladies handling a dangerous snake. Maybe that sounds sexist. I don’t mean it to, but they’re not ranching or farming families. They don’t work in the vet office or deal with nature walks and such. I’ve looked into them. They’re both church ladies who sew and work in retail.” Gus shrugged.
“Luke wouldn’t go after a woman who’s tough and handles wild animals. He liked old-fashioned ladies. But those ladies tend to have men around them, fathers, brothers, brothers-in-law or nephews who’ll step up. Luke picked women who didn’t have that. No offense, Miss Baxter, but like you,” Jeff informed.
“Katie’s brothers would go after a guy who took advantage or hurt me,” I said.
“Friends are good, but Luke still saw you as vulnerable—he would’ve seen himself as the man closest to you. If there are men around these women who were that hurt by Luke, they could be considered suspects. It might’ve been a warning or threat that got out of hand,” Jeff suggested.
Gus made a few notes. “I’ll look into that.”
“What about Luke’s parents? Any reason to believe anyone else in the family had any issues with Luke?” I asked Gus.
Jeff laughed. “No, his parents are good people. They’d never do anything to hurt their family.”
“We’re still talking to the local vet about getting a list of anyone who has brought a snake in as a pet. They had a staff changeover and their receptionist was still learning the system. I’ll follow up on that and dig into the two women’s lives,” Gus replied.
“Why a python?” I wondered aloud.
“Meaning?” Gus asked.
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nbsp; “Rattlesnakes, cottonmouths and copperheads are all local. Easily captured in someone’s backyard. Why go for a snake that’s so much trouble or expense to get your hands on?” I asked.
“Handleability. Pythons can bite without sending you to the ER. If the snake is fed, it’s not likely to try to bite or crush you. It’ll try to get away. The others…some people handle them, but most hit ’em with a shovel first. Not if they’re pets maybe, but wild snakes will defend themselves and bite. A pet-type python might play nice at first,” Jeff suggested.
“You seem to know a lot about snakes,” Gus said.
Jeff chuckled. “I collected frogs and stuff as a kid. A lot of reptiles, but my ma never let the dangerous snakes in the house.”
“Well, I should let the sheriff get back to work.” I stood. “Let me know if I can be of any help.”
“I will.” Gus held out his hand.
I shook it and tried to ignore the sparks.
“Good day. I’ll be by to look at that electric as soon as they spring me,” Jeff promised.
“Thanks so much.” I showed myself out.
* * * *
My mind whirled on suspects all day, but nothing was clicking. The goal might not have been murder, which made it twice as hard to pin down who would do it. One group would willingly have scared the pastor. Another, much smaller, group would have loved to see him punished or taken out.
I was making up loaves of cinnamon bread dough to bake the next day while Gran put away leftovers and got her ice cream.
“You should watch some TV and relax. Tomorrow will be busier, but you’re making dough for a week.” She grabbed a spoon and her butter pecan.
“The people get one whiff of seriously crunchy cinnamon bread and it goes like hotcakes.”
“True. We don’t do it all the time.” She sat in her recliner.
“Our sales could use a boost.”
“What?” she called.
“Nothing,” I replied.
“I think the sheriff is here,” she advised.
“What?” I wiped my hands on the old apron with tiny spoons on the fabric. It always made me feel like Anne of Green Gables.
“Gus is here.” Gran pointed.
“Great.” I dashed into the kitchen and put the loaves in the fridge. After washing my hands quickly, I put away the milk, eggs and butter.
“Come in,” Gran called.
I walked to the front room calmly. “Hello.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Gus said.
“No, you’re not,” I reassured him.
“Apron,” Gran whispered so only I could hear her and put the feet up in her chair.
“Right, sorry.” I untied the apron and lifted it from my neck. I went back to the kitchen and hung it in the mud room.
I came back to the living room.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt the work. I just wanted to inform you that I’m going to talk to Dillon and the rest of the guys in the RV. Since it’s on your property, I didn’t want you to get spooked.”
“What for?” Gran asked.
“I got the list from the local vets today. Who has pet snakes was our focus. Now they haven’t been around much, but when I was in Animal Control checking on the murderous snake, someone there said he believed he’d heard the band guys talking about having a snake cage in their RV. One of them said they’d owned a snake at one point. I don’t think it’s now, but I have to ask,” Gus explained.
“You’re friends with them. They’d have told you if they had a snake,” I said.
Gus smirked. “I play with them a little, but I don’t go on the road, and I’m not living in an RV. That’s a hobby—it’s not my job. I have to follow every lead.”
“Of course. I’m sure the boys won’t mind. Did you see how they cleaned up the yard and repaired the fence? Now Duke has a dog run and we have a couple pens for animals whenever we get around to that,” Gran remarked.
“I haven’t seen, but I’ll be sure to admire it tonight. Can we go out through the back and turn on whatever lights?” Gus asked.
“Sure.” I led the way and flipped on the back lights. The RV lights were on too.
I walked with him. “Nice stretch of the legs. But then they don’t bother us if they’re practicing or playing music.”
“Far from the neighbors too. They’re considerate for a band,” he teased.
Gus shone his flashlight on the pens and beyond.
“Heard on your offer yet?” I asked.
“Not yet. Thing go slow in the south.”
“Nothing like going from a big city to a small town to remind you of that.” I walked up the steps and knocked on the RV.
Dillon answered. “Lovely Belle and the sheriff. Come in.”
“Drinking?” Gus asked.
“Just a little. Our night off, so we relax. Sit.”
“Belle, not sure if you’ve been introduced to everyone properly. These guys tend to stick to the stage. That’s Grant, Vic, Jackson and Troll. Beer?” Dillon offered.
“No, thanks.”
There was no place that looked clean enough to sit on—shag carpet in burnt orange and a green plaid couch that looked like it was going to give out. There was a kitchen table where the guys looked to be playing cards.
“Nothing for me. I just wanted to ask you guys something. I heard you had a snake at one point. I just need to make sure it wasn’t recently and wasn’t a python,” he said.
“Oh no, Troll used to have a rat snake,” Dillon mentioned.
Troll had a lot of facial hair and long curly hair I’d kill for. He just needed to comb it more. “I got the RV from my uncle. He was a hoarder, so it was full of junk, just like his house. Both had a mice problem. We cleaned it out and set traps, but I got a rat snake to keep it clean. Some of those nightmares, I can still hear the squeaking and snapping.”
“It’s okay, man. Been clean for years.” Dillon clapped his friend on the back. “Someone broke into the RV one night and tipped over the enclosure. Snake got out. We had no more mice, so we didn’t get another snake. I felt bad buying mice to feed it.”
Gus nodded. “Makes sense. Any reason you guys have a problem with the pastor?”
The guys shook their heads negatively. “Unless he was bad to Mrs. B or Belle,” Dillon replied.
“We’re not big on church going,” Troll added.
I looked up a rat snake on my phone. “Oh, those snakes look nothing like each other.”
“Nope. But we’re happy to let you search if you want. Not much space to hide crap,” Dillon offered.
“No, that’s all I need.” Gus shook their hands. “Have a good night.”
“Night,” I said.
I headed for the door and made it down the rickety stairs. Headlights in the driveway caught my eye.
“Who is it now?” I asked.
Gus followed me. The truck pulled all the way back, and passed the house near the garage. There was a pullout for farming deliveries.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Belle Baxter?” a hulky and potbellied truck driver asked.
“That’s me.” I stepped closer and the sound and smell of livestock hit me.
“It’s all pre-paid. Sign here,” he instructed.
I signed. “What is it?”
“Six standard goats and six pygmy goats. Suitable for breeding, disease free and so on. Here you go.” He handed me papers. “Where do you want them?”
“There are two pens over there. Do you have any feed? This is sort of a surprise.”
“Yeah. It’ll be unloaded with them. You can water them?” he asked.
“There are troughs in there. I’ll get a bucket.” I walked to the house and found an old bucket in the mudroom. I filled it from the hose outside and carried it back.
“Who sent these?” I asked, not looking at Gus.
“It’s all the paperwork.” The truck driver released the big goats in the bigger pen.
I looked at the papers. “Luke.�
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Gus filled the trough in one pen. “I’ll get more.”
“Thanks.” I stared at the papers in disbelief.
“They’re for breeding, so you only got a couple of boys in there. Know what you’re doing?”
“Sort of, thanks.” I smiled.
Gus filled the other water trough. “Did you know he was going to do this?”
I laughed. “Does it look like I knew? Why would he do this?”
“Not all bad,” Gus suggested.
“He must’ve ordered these before I dumped him.” I felt awful.
“And died before he could cancel them,” Gus added.
“I’m going to unload them.” The truck driver stuck feed in both pens and headed back to his rig.
“Thanks,” I called.
The band members checked out the goats and made sure the pen was sturdy enough.
“I was going to wait until I had a barn put up. Even one of those modular ones to keep them warm and out of the weather,” I explained.
Gus sighed. “He jumped the gun.”
“But they’re so expensive. I can’t believe he did this.” I walked up and petted one of the pygmy goats.
Gran opened the back door. “Who was that?”
“We’ve got goats, Gran,” I announced.
She carefully walked out to the pen. “Little ones and big ones. Cute.”
“Luke sent them.” I leaned on the pen. “What do we do?”
Gran looked up. “Thanks. Now we need men to build a barn. I’ll send the guys to the feed supply store tomorrow for goat feed.”
“This is crazy,” I said.
“I’ll start knitting little pajamas for the little ones. Keep them warm,” Gran replied.
“How much? I gotta have a little goat in PJs,” Troll insisted.
“What?” Gus asked.
“People have them as pets and dress them up.” Dillon chuckled.
I felt a bit overwhelmed. “Gran, you don’t have to knit anything. We can get baby clothes at the thrift shop.”
“Used clothes? Not for our babies.” She petted the little ones then headed back to the house.
Chapter Ten
A couple of weeks later, Martha and I were headed to our bartending course for the state license. I sent up a quick prayer that my old white truck would hang in there.
