The Body in the Gravel

by Judi Lynn

  Ansel laughed. “Does she have cravings?”

  “I should have bought stock in barbecued potato chips,” Jerod growled. “The woman eats half a bag at a time.”

  Ansel stopped painting to study Jazzi. “You’re going to be gorgeous when you’re pregnant.”

  “Yeah, right.” She tried to think about fixing up houses when she could only waddle. How would that work?

  Jerod’s cell phone buzzed, and when he answered it, he grinned. “No problem, woman. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Is she all right?” Ansel still fretted about Franny. “No fake labor?”

  “She’s fine. She asked me to grab food on the way home. She worked on furniture for a while this morning, then sat down for a break and fell asleep. Just woke up.”

  Ansel finished painting the inside of the flower box and started on the outside. “So you were saved by a nap?”

  When Jazzi finished painting the last shutter, Jerod was already taking his paintbrush to a bucket of water to rinse it.

  “I think I’ll treat her tonight,” he said, “and buy mild wings and curly fries. My woman would rather have those than filet mignon.”

  “Hard choice,” Ansel agreed. “Depends on my mood.”

  As they finished painting and started cleanup, Jazzi asked, “Did anyone call Walker to have the rest of the gravel delivered tomorrow?”

  Jerod nodded. “He almost thought about having someone else deliver it, but everyone was busy. He said it was going to be a little hard on him, that he’d picture his dad falling out of the truck into our driveway, but he knew we were getting a little worried about the weather. He promised to deliver it first thing in the morning and then come back with cement after we have time to tamp it down.”

  It would be a relief to check the driveway off their job list. They could hang gutters if the temperature dipped, but cement was more temperamental.

  They headed home a little later than usual. The rain showed no signs of letting up, but at least it didn’t feel like a monsoon anymore. When they pulled in the drive, Jazzi grabbed George and carried him into the kitchen so that Ansel wouldn’t get as wet running from the garage.

  George headed straight to his food dish, and the cats rushed to their bowls. Jazzi was finishing feeding them when Ansel stepped inside.

  He stood by the kitchen island. “If I whine and purr, will you feed me, too?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is that all you can tempt me with?”

  He laughed, coming to stand behind her to wrap his arms around her waist as she opened the refrigerator. “Those come later as rewards for my proper care and feeding.”

  She turned in his arms and handed him an onion and carrot. “The rewards are mutual, so the workload is, too. Start chopping.”

  He bent his head to nuzzle his nose into her wavy hair. “Don’t forget my egg.”

  She pushed him away. “Honestly, you have tunnel vision. Once you think about food, nothing distracts you.”

  “That’s because I don’t have to choose.” He reached for the leftover sirloin tips and carried everything to the island. “I can have it all.”

  She pulled out leftover potatoes and a small bag of frozen peas. They worked side by side. The hash didn’t take long to make, and she opened a bag of salad—a quick meal. But you would have thought she’d slaved over the stove all day. Ansel finished every morsel. George got only a few scraps.

  In minutes, they cleaned the kitchen. “First fun, then a shower?” he asked. “We can watch TV in our PJs.”

  She wasn’t about to argue. When Ansel looked at her like that, her entire body tingled with anticipation. When they headed upstairs, the pets flopped on the floor to wait for them. This time, they waited longer than usual, but then Ansel and Jazzi lavished them with attention when they came down. It was a win/win for all of them.

  Chapter 27

  On Wednesday, Jerod, Ansel, and Jazzi met early at the fixer-upper to tamp down the gravel Earl had delivered but they hadn’t gotten to work on. With the yellow police tape finally down, they could smooth it out and form it into a solid base for the cement. A gray, overcast day shrouded the city, but luckily, no rain was predicted. Jazzi was grateful for her heavy flannel shirt. A damp chill hung in the air. She could feel her thick blond hair flatten and cling to her head. She didn’t know which was worse—when heat and humidity made her hair curl and frizzle or when cold and damp air made it go flat.

  Jazzi lugged a new coffee urn she’d bought, plus the two usual portable carafes, into the kitchen. All the gloom made her crave more java than usual. Ansel carted in the cooler with their sandwiches and chips. George, knowing they’d return shortly, sprawled on the back porch to watch them work. He didn’t like lying in wet grass.

  While Jazzi raked and Jerod tamped, Ansel finished building frames for the end of the drive. When they were close to finishing, Jerod called Walker. Half an hour later, he arrived with another load.

  The man looked good behind the wheel of a big, red truck. Then again, he was big and solid with crisp chestnut hair, so he looked good no matter what. Again, Jazzi wished she knew someone to introduce him to. He backed into the drive, tilted the bed, and began pouring gravel as he moved forward. Suddenly, the truck lurched and started to roll. The slope of the drive made it pick up a little speed, and they watched Walker lean forward to pump the brake to slow it down. Jerod, Jazzi, and Ansel jumped out of the way as the truck rolled toward them. It wasn’t going fast, but Walker couldn’t make the turn onto the street without slowing down.

  He killed the engine and cranked the steering wheel, aiming at a giant, old tree in the strip of lawn next to the drive. The truck slowed slightly before ramming the tree and coming to a stop. Walker jerked forward, but his seat belt held him secure.

  Ansel ran to the driver’s door and yanked it open. “Are you all right?”

  Walker, paler than usual, jumped out of the cab. He leaned against the truck to steady himself. “My brakes went out. Couldn’t even get the emergency brake to work.”

  Jerod got down to peek under the truck. His dad was a mechanic, so he’d tinkered on cars from the time Eli had allowed him in the garage. He scooted far enough beneath the big vehicle that his head and shoulders disappeared. When they reappeared, a scowl pulled at his brows. “Looks like someone cut your brakes partway through so they’d go out eventually.”

  Ansel reached down and offered him a hand up.

  Walker stared. “Why would anyone do that? The men like working for me.”

  “Who usually drives this truck?” Jazzi asked.

  “It’s Dad’s, the only red one. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch it.”

  Ansel frowned. “That’s not the truck that came with our gravel when we found Darby’s body. Earl drove a black truck.”

  “If Darby was loading our gravel when he died, wouldn’t it have been in his red truck?” Jazzi asked.

  Walker rubbed his chin and then looked surprised. “Now I remember. Earl told me Dad’s heater had quit working, and he couldn’t keep his windows from fogging up. Andy hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet, so he borrowed Colin’s truck for the delivery.”

  Jazzi reached for her cell phone. Before she called Gaff, she said, “It doesn’t sound like you were the target. I think your dad was.”

  Everyone waited while she explained to Gaff what had happened, then Walker looked from one of them to the other, obviously confused. “Why kill Dad with a shovel when his brakes were cut? Why not just wait and let him go off the road at a curve or fly through a stop sign and get hit?”

  “Because someone lost his temper and whacked him before his plan could work,” Jerod said.

  Walker glanced at the truck, its bumper crumpled against the tree, its hood dented. “Someone really had it out for the old man. What do you think Dad did? I know he made people mad all the time, but nothing l
ike this. I could understand Dad bugging someone so much that they picked up a shovel to shut him up. But planning to murder him ahead of time? That’s different, isn’t it?”

  Jazzi jammed her phone back in her pocket. “The brakes were premeditated. It wasn’t just a crime of passion. It was worse.”

  “Someone must have really hated him.” Walker licked his lips. “The thing is, he had the same people around him who’d always been around him. Something had to have changed.”

  Jazzi had no idea what it would be. “The only things I’ve heard are that the money got tighter for the business and Whiskers got tired of your dad hitting on his new girlfriend.”

  Walker looked surprised. “Whiskers finally met someone?”

  Jazzi nodded. “A new bartender at Shots and Spirits. She chose Whiskers over your dad, and your dad didn’t take that well.”

  “Would you kill someone over that?” Walker asked.

  Jerod snorted. “Not me. I’d start looking for the next gal and make sure she was even better than the one who got away.” He would, too. He was quite the player in his day.

  Walker glanced at his watch. “I thought Gaff would be here by now.”

  She’d just called him, but they were all getting restless, standing here, playing what-ifs. Jazzi motioned to the house. “I have lots of coffee. Anyone want a cup?”

  The men followed her up the front porch steps and into the kitchen. Once there, Ansel went to let in George, and Jazzi filled the cheap mugs she’d bought and began handing them out. They were sitting at the card table, sipping the stronger brew she’d made, when Gaff gave a quick knock and joined them.

  “I brought a mechanic with me. Wanted to know if Jerod knows what he’s talking about.”

  “I worked grease monkey with my dad every summer I was out of school,” Jerod said. “Glad you brought an expert to tell me I’m right.”

  Jazzi enjoyed watching Gaff and Jerod together. Gaff liked giving her cousin a hard time. Knew he could take it and dish it right back. Jazzi wondered if that’s how he and his boys got along. Suddenly serious, he said, “You guys got lucky the truck didn’t pick up speed. The tree’s in good shape, but the truck needs some work.”

  Ansel drained the last of his coffee. His hand was so big, the mug looked like an espresso cup when he held it. “We did get lucky. It’s a good thing the tree was there, or the truck would have kept going. Someone could have been hurt.”

  Gaff opened his notebook. “Okay, start at the top and tell me what happened and your thoughts on it.”

  They’d given him the details and their opinions when a man knocked on the door and Gaff motioned him to join them.

  “My mechanic,” Gaff said in way of introductions.

  The man rubbed his hands on his blue work pants. “Whoever called it, called it right. The brakes were slit partway, so that they’d work until the driver was on the road. Then they’d give.”

  Jerod grinned, and Gaff grinned back.

  “Thanks for coming,” Gaff told him. “I appreciate it. My crew can take it from here. They’re checking for fingerprints, any evidence they can find.”

  “The next time you bring your car in, you owe me a beer. Maybe two.” With a wink, the man left.

  Jerod rushed to talk before Gaff could start scribbling in his notepad. “Please tell me we don’t have to put the yellow tape back up and stop working on the driveway again.”

  Gaff shook his head. “No, it’s Walker’s truck we’re interested in. And why do you think someone sabotaged it to hurt Darby.”

  Jazzi tilted her head, thinking. “You said hurt, and maybe that’s all the person wanted. I mean, the dump truck is so big, Darby should have survived if it crashed into almost anything.”

  Walker pushed out of his chair and began pacing. “Maybe someone was mad at Dad and wanted to get even with him, let him know he’d pushed too hard or gone too far.”

  “That was still a dangerous stunt.” Ansel grimaced, upset. “If the truck didn’t kill Darby, it could have killed someone else.”

  Walker slumped back in his chair. “You’re right. Someone took a big risk, and for what? What did he want from what he did?”

  Gaff tapped his pen up and down on his notepad, his expression far away; he was deep in thought. “It’s time to dig further, to question everyone again. Tell your men Jazzi and I will be at your office at four tomorrow to question them again.”

  Jazzi turned to Ansel and Jerod, but Jerod nodded.

  “We’ll finish tamping the gravel as soon as everything settles down, and maybe Walker can send us cement later today. There’s not as much hurry on the gutters. Ansel and I can start them, and if it takes two days to finish them, that’s okay.”

  Walker nodded. “I’ll get the cement here if I have to stay overtime and drive it here myself.”

  “Thanks,” Jerod said.

  “You’re helping me. I’m glad I can return the favor, at least a little.”

  “Then everything’s settled for now.” Gaff stood and started to the door.

  “Just one thing,” Jazzi said. “I go out with my sister tomorrow night. I have to meet her at Trubble Brewing at six.”

  Gaff nodded. “Then let’s make it three-thirty, so we’re not rushed. I’ll see you.”

  Walker watched him leave, then leaned forward in his chair. “I’m going to call Thane and tell him I’m stranded. Do you mind if I hang out here until he can come and get me?”

  “Hang out?” Jerod laughed. “We’ll put you to work.”

  “Even better, I’ll go stir-crazy with nothing to do.”

  Jerod started for the door and stopped. “Come to think of it, I’ll drive you back to your place so that if a truck opens up and you have some free time, you can deliver our cement.”

  They stood, and when Jerod and Walker left, Ansel and Jazzi went back to raking the gravel smooth and tamping it down. Hopefully, by the time Jerod returned, the gravel would be done and Walker could deliver the cement. And this time, fingers crossed, the truck wouldn’t be sabotaged.

  Chapter 28

  Jerod returned an hour later and got busy helping them. “Walker’s going to use Andy’s truck, and Andy’s going to look over the other trucks, just in case another one was tampered with. The drivers couldn’t believe someone had messed with one of their vehicles. And it really riled them that Walker could have been hurt.”

  Jazzi leaned on her rake. Her back needed a rest. “They all like Walker, don’t they?”

  “He’s saving their jobs, and they know it. Plus, he treats everyone with respect—something new for them.”

  Ansel gave the end of the driveway one more pass with his rake before heading to the machine to tamp the last section down. “Did Walker go ahead and call Thane?”

  Jerod nodded. “Yup, and Thane invited him to his place for pizza tonight. Walker said he was ready to get away from the job site for a while. Things have been pretty tense since he came back to River Bluffs.”

  Jazzi felt a stab of guilt. She’d invited Walker to join her family on Sundays, but it would be easy enough to invite him again during the week. Ansel looked at her face and said, “Thane and I are meeting him on Thursday nights, too, so you don’t need to worry about him. We’re watching out for him.”

  She let out a long breath. The poor guy had had nothing but problems since he came home.

  Jerod took her rake and carried his and hers to the garage. “You’re not our mother. You don’t have to hold our hands and give us goodies.”

  “Does that advice apply to you, too?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Come to think of it, mother us all you want.”

  Mollified, her thoughts went back to Walker. “I’m glad he’ll spend the evening at Thane’s. He needs a distraction.”

  Jerod grinned. “That’s what kids are for. The minute you step
in the house, you don’t have time to brood. Besides, the drivers have a theory. They think Darby ticked off the wrong person. They said he kept getting more and more worried about the business and more keyed up about finding a woman to live with. The more he worried, the more he drank. They said he was getting hard to be around.”

  “Was he interested in some other woman besides Bea or Haze?” Jazzi asked.

  “Earl thought he’d go after any woman who looked his way. If she was with somebody—like a jealous boyfriend—he didn’t seem to care. Some men don’t handle that well.”

  Ansel finished tamping and turned off the machine. The sudden silence made Jazzi rub her ears. He picked up the tamper and joined them at the garage. “Let’s eat lunch before we have to work on the cement.”

  A good idea. They headed into the house, and George, realizing it was sandwich time, followed them. Walker still hadn’t arrived when they finished eating, so Jerod said, “We might as well get started on the gutters. Maybe we can get one side done before he gets here.”

  No such luck. They leaned their long extension ladders against the roof and were cutting the metal sections to fit when Walker showed up. George had left the back porch to do his business but returned when the big truck backed into the driveway, its drum turning to keep the cement mixed. The noise drowned out their voices as they took their places to start smoothing it as it poured.

  They worked with long-handled hoes before Walker gave them a wave and, job finished, drove away. After the surface was fairly smooth, they changed to trowels to smooth it more. It took the rest of the day to finish the entire length of the drive.

  Jazzi always felt the strain when they worked with cement. Her back hurt. Her arms ached. And her knees smarted from kneeling so long, even though she wore knee pads. Ansel, with all of his muscles, rubbed his back, too. So did Jerod.

  “I’m glad we don’t do this for a living,” her cousin grumbled. “Maybe your body gets used to it, but it stretches muscles I don’t use that often. I’m not picking up any kids tonight. They’ll have to wait for me to sit down to crawl on me.”