by Liliana Hart
Part of me felt motherly toward Sheldon, even though he still lived with his own mother, but another part of me had needed some distance from him once we’d returned to Bloody Mary. I’d managed not to strangle him since he’d come back to work, which was a win in my book, but I was thinking he probably needed to see a therapist.
Lily and Sheldon carried the gurney toward us, two opposites of the same coin. I’d learned the dead spoke to different people in different ways, and Lily and Sheldon were perfect examples of that. They both understood the dead in their own ways, and more importantly, they respected the dead.
“Well,” Lily said, looking down at the victim. “That’s different.”
My lips twitched, but I refrained from smiling. Gallows humor was something we were all familiar with. Outsiders might never understand it, but it was necessary for our mental survival.
“Let’s get him back to the lab before these vultures lose their patience.”
“Speaking of vultures,” Lily said, “We passed Floyd Parker on the way here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t far behind.”
I grunted and moved out of the way so they could get the gurney next to the body. I hated Floyd Parker. He was a viper. And it only made things worse that we’d had a romantic entanglement during my med school years. It was a regret I’d take with me to the grave.
My last encounter with Floyd had ended with him getting a fist to the nose. He’d been impeding an investigation and pushed his way in a little too close to the victim. Coroners had more authority than most people realized, and he’d been lucky I hadn’t had him arrested. I wasn’t sure why Floyd had fallen off my radar the last few months, but it had been nice not to run into him every time I turned a corner. I was guessing that luck was about to change.
“I don’t think Floyd is going to be of concern,” Jack said easily.
I narrowed my eyes, wondering what I’d missed. Maybe it hadn’t been luck that had kept Floyd out of my path.
“On three,” I said as we gathered around the body.
We lifted the victim and put him carefully into a body bag, and then lifted him onto the gurney. He was a big man, probably two hundred pounds, though part of that weight could have been because of the swelling of organs and tissues.
“I’ll meet you guys back at the funeral home,” I said to Lily and Sheldon.
“What about the donuts?” Sheldon asked, accusingly. “Emmy Lu said you were bringing donuts this morning, but you never came.” Sweat beaded on his upper lip from the effort it took to carry the body to the Suburban and load him into the back.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said sarcastically. “This pesky murder took priority.”
“I didn’t eat my oatmeal because I was expecting donuts,” he said, my sarcasm going right over his head. “If I don’t eat regularly I get light-headed.”
“Come on, sport,” Lily said, patting him on the shoulder. “The sooner we get the body back, the sooner you can get your donut.”
“Did you know over ten billion donuts are consumed in this country every year?” Sheldon asked.
“Then I’m glad we’re doing our part to help the numbers,” I said.
“Wait a sec,” Martinez said. “You’ve got donuts? Have you had them in your Suburban the whole time?”
“I thought I smelled Lady Jane’s,” Cole said. “But figured it was wishful thinking.”
“You take another step toward my donuts, Martinez, and you die,” I said. “And you did not smell donuts from inside my vehicle. Especially not over the stench of rotting intestines.”
“I’m a cop,” Cole said. “I can sniff out a donut better than a K9 sniffing out drugs.”
“That must be a real attention getter on your resume,” I said, making the others chuckle.
“I want to ask the homeowner a couple more questions,” Jack said.
“I’ll come with you,” I told him. “They’ll need time to unload the body.” I looked at Martinez and hit the remote for the Suburban so the doors locked. “Stay away from my donuts.”
“Harsh,” Martinez said.
I walked with Jack across the road and the long expanse of yard to the white farmhouse. There were chickens running loose, and a pen of goats bleated at the disturbance as we walked by. I was sweating by the time we made it to the house, and I wished I’d left my bag in the car instead of hauling it with me.
“Hey, Sheriff,” a man called out, and Jack and I turned.
A man in worn denim and a white T-shirt was walking toward us from the barn, waving his hand.
Jack waved back, and we changed our direction to meet the man halfway. “I take it that’s Cotton?” I asked.
“You got it,” Jack said, and then he reached out to shake the man’s hand as we drew near.
“Sorry about that,” Cotton said. “I had things to tend to in the barn.” Then he turned to me and nodded his head, “Ma’am.”
“This is Dr. Graves,” Jack said. “Jaye, this is Donald Cotton. He found the victim this morning.”
“That had to be an experience,” I said.
“I’ve had better mornings,” he agreed, his mouth in a grim line.
Donald Cotton was a good-sized man a few inches taller than my own five foot eight. He was somewhere in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles in his biceps described a man who labored hard from day to day. His shirt was grimy with the morning’s work, and the leather work gloves he held in his hand looked like they’d seen better days.
“I think he might be past the point of needing a doctor,” Cotton told me.
I smiled. “I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m the coroner.”
“Ahh, I guess that makes more sense. I don’t know who could do a thing like this. Why someone would pick my land to do it on. I’ve never had a bit of trouble. Not even kids sneaking out here to get high or mess around.”
“We’re going to need a list of all your farmhands,” Jack said. “It makes sense it’d be someone familiar with your property.”
“Yeah,” Cotton said. “But I’d like to think I know the men I work side by side with every day. I can’t imagine any of them doing something like this. But I’ll get you a list. It’s not that long. And most of my workers are transient. I or one of the other guys will head down to the hardware store and pick up a few day laborers here and there.”
“Just whoever you can think of will be a good place to start,” Jack said. “When did you notice the body?”
“I got up about four thirty like usual,” he said, “And then I’m out at the barn by five. It’s still dark out then, but I could hear the buzzards so I knew something had died out in the field. It happens from time to time, so I went about getting the cows started milking. The field hands start showing up about seven now that it’s getting light a little later, and I could hear them driving up. But when I came out of the barn I could see the buzzards still circling, and I knew it wasn’t just a small animal. They can pluck a chicken clean in half an hour. So I got my flashlight thinking a wolf might have gotten into the sheep pen.”
He swallowed hard and looked away. “But it wasn’t no sheep. He was up there plain as day, and I shooed the buzzards away best I could and called 911.”
“You didn’t notice anything last night?” Jack asked.
Cotton shook his head. “Can’t say I did. I did my last check in the barn around eight o’clock and then I headed in for the night. I’m an early riser so I tuck in early. There wasn’t anything out there, and I would’ve seen trucks coming or going.”
“Do you live here alone?” I asked. “Could anyone else have heard something?”
“It’s just me,” he said, his mouth thinning again. “My wife died seven years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said.
“I’ve thought about selling the farm and moving,” he said. “But it’s all I know. It keeps me busy when my mind starts to think about her. I hope y’all find who
did this.”
“If you feel you’re in danger I can have a deputy ride out and check on you,” Jack said.
“I’ll be fine,” Cotton said. “I’ve got my own protection, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
3
Bloody Mary was an acquired taste. There were those who’d move in from D.C. or other cities and commute to work, thinking they wanted a cheap place to live with good schools and a simpler way of life. But most of those people didn’t last long.
Bloody Mary was mostly multigenerational families who talked about things that happened a hundred years ago as if it were yesterday. The life was definitely simpler, but most found it to be too simple. Grocery stores, gas stations, and movie theaters weren’t easy to come by. People didn’t have their faces stuck in cell phone screens all day, and they didn’t pay all that much attention to what was happening in the rest of the world.
For the 2,900 residents of this sleepy town—give or take a few—life was about achieving the American Dream—working hard, watching your children grow, and hot coffee served with a freshly baked slice of gossip. The houses were small, the yards neat, and businesses were about customer service.
The funeral home was just a block from the town square on the corner of Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. It was a three-story, red-bricked Colonial with white columns in front. It had been built at the turn of the twentieth century, and had originally belonged to my great-grandparents when they’d decided to get into the undertaking business. It was such a specialized skill back then that people came from all over the state if they could afford to pay for an embalming and burial. Needless to say, my ancestors made out like bandits. The funeral home was all I had left to show for a legacy, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad one.
I’d gotten lucky during the storm. A large branch had split from one of the two massive oak trees that stood like sentries on the front lawn and fallen inches from the roof. Someone was supposed to come out and remove it at some point, but Bloody Mary time didn’t work the same as time in other places. The fallen limb might be removed today or sometime a month from now.
I pulled into the carport behind Lily and Sheldon, grabbed my bag and the donuts, and headed inside. I hadn’t bothered to change out of my coveralls or boots since they were covered in mud. Jack parked his unit street side and got out, eyeing the giant limb on his way over.
“I’ll give Lenny Green a call and see if he can move you up on the priority list,” he said, taking my things so I could get out of the car without falling on my face.
“The good news is no one has died this week, so I don’t have any viewings scheduled,” I told him.
“You might want to hold off making that declaration. We’ve got a body count after the tornadoes.”
I grimaced. “Anyone local?”
“No, most of the victims came from Newcastle. They got hit the hardest.”
“I don’t mean to sound like a nagging wife…” He grinned when I said this. “But you don’t look so good. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”
“Good question,” he said. “But I’m not sure either of those things is on the schedule as of now.”
I clamped my lips shut and decided I needed to take matters into my own hands. God wouldn’t have given women the ability to manipulate if he hadn’t wanted them to use it on stubborn men.
“Come on, then,” I said, and headed up the ramp attached to the carport. I left my muddy boots at the door.
Lily and Sheldon had already rolled the body through the mudroom and into the big kitchen. My lab was just off the kitchen, and Sheldon typed in the code to unlock the thick metal door. There was a whooshing sound as the door unsealed, and Lily held it open while Sheldon pushed the body into the elevator. The temperature was decidedly colder down there, and I saw Lily shiver as she followed behind Sheldon.
“Just roll him into station one and leave him in the bag,” I told them. “I’ll be down in a minute. I need to change.”
I put the donuts and my medical bag on the island and went to start a pot of coffee. Jack was asleep on his feet. He dropped onto one of the barstools, and didn’t say anything as I got eggs out of the fridge and the bread from the pantry. I didn’t know if he was in shock from the sight of me cooking or if he was sleeping with his eyes open.
Emmy Lu kept the kitchen stocked with necessities, for staff as well as for me if I had to work late. I was grateful to have her, because I never thought of things like stocking the kitchen or putting extra toilet paper in the bathrooms. If there wasn’t a body attached to it, I wasn’t great with the details.
I probably added too much salt to the eggs and butter to the pan, but by the time I was finished, it mostly looked like French toast. I put the plate in front of Jack, poured him a cup of coffee, and kissed him on top of the head. Jack was the extrovert of the two of us, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard him be this quiet for as long as he had.
I left him in peace and went to my office, so I could strip out of the coveralls and find another pair of shoes that wasn’t caked with mud. All I had in the closet were a pair of dress shoes I kept for viewings and a pair of white sneakers. I picked the white sneakers. The victim wasn’t going to be impressed by my shoe choice. I washed my hands thoroughly, and splashed some cold water on my face before getting my lab coat off the hook on the back of the door.
I was buttoning it up when I walked back into the kitchen. The donuts were gone, but Jack was standing at the sink, rinsing off the plate.
“Thanks for that,” he said, not turning around. “You did good. Now that I know you can cook, you might have to do it more often.”
“French toast and mac ’n’ cheese are pretty much where my talents end.” I paused for a second, not sure what to say. This breakneck pace when disaster struck was nothing new. Jack thrived on it. We’d been in tougher and more stressful situations, so seeing him this exhausted was worrisome. “You okay?” I asked.
“Better now,” he said. “Just getting old and tired.”
“You’re not that old,” I said.
“It feels like it,” he said, finally turning to face me. “Sometimes I wonder if the job is worth it, that’s all.”
My brows rose in surprise. Jack had lived and breathed the job since he’d first set foot in the academy. He’d been born to be a cop. He was brilliant at it, and he was a good leader. Even when he’d taken three bullets to the chest and watched his friends die, he’d never wondered if the job had been worth it.
“You make a difference, Jack,” I said. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
He signed and scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “I think the politics are just getting to me. I love the job. I always have. But I hate the bureaucratic bullshit. I hate the meetings and the paperwork and being diplomatic. Sometimes I miss handling a situation with a cannon instead of a scalpel.” He smiled as he said that, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I let it out slowly.
“The election is next month,” he said. “And I’m not even sure I care if I win or not.”
“You’re going to win by a landslide,” I told him. “No one in their right mind would vote for Harley Grubbs. He’s a hundred years old, and he has so much hair in his ears he can’t hear.”
“Floyd Parker is going to be on the ballot,” he said. “He turned his paperwork in at the last minute.”
I saw red for several seconds before the haze started to clear. “That son of a—”
Jack held up his hands and said, “He’s had a bone to pick ever since you gave him that bloody nose. Actually, he’s had a bone to pick with you since you ended things between you. He figures if he can beat me then he can get rid of you too.”
“He’s a moron, and I hate his guts,” I said. “And you’d better campaign for all you’re worth, Jack Lawson, because there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that a no-good turnip like Floyd Parker could ever beat you without cheating. So don’t put it past him to try something like that. No wonder he’s been so
quiet lately. We’re going to crush him,” I said, pounding my fist in my hand.
Jack grinned and I saw the tension go out of his shoulders. It wasn’t just about Floyd Parker. Jack was a cop to his bones. And if he left the job, I worried how not being a cop would affect him. It was a slippery slope to leave the only identity you’d ever known and try to figure out who you were without a gun and badge. There was a reason the suicide rate was even higher for those who retired from the job.
“Listen,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You know I’m behind you a hundred percent, right? If you decided you wanted to quit the job today and spend the rest of your life in a hammock on the beach, I’m right there with you. We’re a team, no matter what.”
“I know that,” he said, closing the distance between us so he was only a breath away. His hand came up and touched the side of my cheek.
“But I’d be remiss in not saying that you were made for this job. The people here need you. Do you want to leave them in the hands of someone like Floyd Parker? If it’s the politics that bothers you maybe you can change things up some. Give some promotions. Let some of the other guys deal with the crap that sucks the life out of you. Do the things that made you fall in love with this job to begin with.”
“That’s a lot of wisdom, wife,” he said, leaning down to kiss me softly. “And very good advice. Maybe if I hadn’t been so knotted up with all this I could have come to the same conclusion. But I’m glad you did. Thank you.”
“Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” I said. “Advice, sex, and French toast. You’re a well-kept man.”
He snorted out a laugh and put his arm around my shoulder, leading me toward the door to the lab.
“Come on,” he said. “Get me my fingerprints. We can worry about kicking Floyd Parker’s ass later.”
I punched in the code for the door and waited for the mechanisms to unlock before allowing us entry. The lab was in the basement of the funeral home, and it was an addition my parents had added about twenty years ago. I’d grown up thinking that all embalming areas had this kind of security until I went to medical school and saw that even the best morgues in the state weren’t protected like Fort Knox.
