“I think I’d leave him too, if I was dumb enough to marry him.” Wade fell in step next to Tony. “I also think I’d like to know a lot more about his finances. But if he’s been paying blackmail all this time, why suddenly kill her?”
“I’d be willing to bet he’s not one of Candy’s supporters. I’d guess he’d brag about having a young girlfriend. Unless . . .” Tony climbed into the passenger seat. “Maybe he’s been paying to keep her quiet for another reason.”
Wade sighed loudly. “That brings us back around to motive.
Why wait so many years, and kill the woman now?”
“Speaking of suddenly killing a woman, why don’t we go pay a visit to Mrs. Marsh and see if she thinks her next-door neighbor, Mr. Austin, shot her by accident or if it was the culmination to an escalating problem?”
“Lots of accidents happen in the kitchen.” Wade turned the key. “I’d like to think she’d be the first to cry foul if she thought he did it on purpose.”
Tony was silent for a moment. “I quit thinking people would do anything sensible years ago. There is absolutely nothing rational about humans. We get straighter answers from caterpillars.” Tony glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to go hang some quilts.”
Leaving the quilters’ husbands, including Tony, hanging the largest quilts for the show in the museum barn, Theo hurried to the shop for the forgotten name cards and award ribbons. As she was leaving, she ran into, and almost knocked down, a woman standing on the stairs just outside her office door, the one with the huge “Private” sign on it.
“Mrs. Abernathy?”
Theo nodded. The woman looked vaguely familiar. She was probably forty, but she dressed as if she were seventy in an old-fashioned print dress and heavy makeup. The overly dark dyed hair was glued into a smooth cut at chin level and made her head look just like a bowling ball.
“I’m Bonnie Hicks from Children’s Services.” She was not smiling.
Theo’s first thought and her immediate comment were both wildly inappropriate. “Thank you, but I have all I need.” When she saw the woman’s whole face suddenly flush scarlet, Theo found herself wondering if someone thought she was being a bad mother and had reported her. Humor might not be the best approach. “May I help you?”
The woman sniffed. “This is private.”
Theo glanced around but didn’t see anyone within hearing. “What is it?”
“You employ Alvin Tibbles.” Mrs. Hicks made a firm statement, not a question.
“Yes. He does yard work for us.”
“Would you recommend him?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, thank you.” Mrs. Hicks turned and walked down the stairs and out of the shop.
Theo simply watched her until the door closed. “That is the single strangest conversation I’ve ever had.” She was so distracted by the event, she went back into her office and sat down.
“Mrs. Fairfield wants to talk to you, Sheriff.” Rex’s voice sounded a bit muffled. Tony suspected he was chewing on his hand to keep from laughing. “She’s here, in person.”
Since he’d been dodging Mrs. Fairfield’s calls, not her complaints—those had been carefully investigated—for a week, he assumed his time was up. “Send her back.”
He postponed his visit to Mrs. Marsh, telling Wade to be ready to leave the moment his visitor departed. He removed a stack of papers from the center of his desk and placed them on the floor. Tony also popped three antacid tablets into his mouth although he doubted they’d be enough to prevent his heartburn from flaring up. It promised to be a long, difficult day. He’d finally signed all the forms and papers involving Candy Tibbles. Tony really wanted to go home.
Ruth Ann ushered the woman in and left, leaving the office door open. She was obviously not going to miss a word. The increased workload and upcoming holiday would require his staff to work extra hours. No one was going home at their normal time.
“Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we, Sheriff?”
Mrs. Fairfield had a stage-ready voice, capable of reaching the back of an auditorium, and she spoke with an unidentifiable accent. He guessed, without any facts to back up the idea, that she’d created her own personal accent. Maybe it was supposed to sound British, but it failed. Instead, it made her sound like a cartoon character.
Mrs. Fairfield launched into her complaint. “I have been waiting to talk to you for hours. We must work together to solve this mystery.”
Thinking the woman had been watching too much television for her own good, Tony tried the polite approach. “It’s been a busy day. Please remind me, Mrs. Fairfield, what mystery?”
Her mighty bosom heaved and her eyes filled with tears. She dabbed at them with a lace-edged handkerchief more suitable for a wedding than a visit to law enforcement. “Why, the disappearance of Mr. O’Hara, of course. We had an appointment, and he failed to arrive. I’m positive something dastardly has occurred.”
Tony sighed. If he had a rating system for complaints, he’d give the woman points for persistence and vocabulary. Dastardly wasn’t a word he’d heard before in an investigation. Mrs. Fair-field had purchased a home in Silersville and moved in only about a month earlier. In that time period, she’d begun working on breaking the record for the most calls by an individual to the sheriff’s department in a three-week period. If it wasn’t witches in the park, it was the amount of noise created by the garbage truck or a Peeping Tom. She had reported lost glasses, lost keys, phone messages from people making vile threats.
It seemed only prophetic that she had purchased the house once occupied by Nellie Pearl Prigmore, a woman whose mental decline had created frequent calls and a strong bond with the sheriff’s department. “I don’t recognize the name O’Hara. Is he a resident of Park County?”
“Oh, no, I’m sure he’s not. He must be from a very special place.” She flapped her handkerchief. “Not that Park County isn’t lovely, after all. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
Tony had no answer to her question. He was pretty curious about how she’d ended up in his jurisdiction. If it weren’t patently ridiculous, he’d accuse his old partner in Chicago of setting up an elaborate prank. It might not hurt to find out what Max had been doing lately.
“Are you listening to me?” Mrs. Fairfield slapped the cleared-out section of his desk with the handkerchief. “I demand you find Mr. O’Hara and bring him to me. At once.”
“Have you a recent photograph of the gentleman in question?” Oh, goodness, he thought, now he was starting to slide into her trap.
“Of course.” She reached into her voluminous handbag and pulled out a large framed photograph of a distinguished-looking gentleman.
Not a man he could remember seeing. Tony might not know everyone by name, but he was pretty good with faces. “And do you have his address or telephone number?”
“Certainly not.” Mrs. Fairfield sniffed and lifted her chin in a haughty manner. “Ladies do not possess such information.”
“Really?” Tony was losing his patience. Whoever had hired this woman to antagonize him had gotten their money’s worth. “How did you meet him?”
“We haven’t actually met.” Mrs. Fairfield dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye. “My late husband and he were friends, and I’m sure we’ll get along splendidly, once I find him.”
“Ah.” Tony sensed the light bulb over his head start to glow. “When did Mr. Fairfield pass away?”
She took a deep breath and then eased it out in a prolonged sigh. “Sixteen years ago.”
“No kidding?” Tony was sure he heard Ruth Ann giggle beyond his office door. He was delighted to provide entertainment for his secretary. Maybe she’d take a pay cut because she only worked for the fun of it. Or maybe he could teach a hog to waltz. “And did you have an address for Mr. O’Hara at that time? Perhaps he was at the funeral.”
“Oh, there was no funeral.” Mrs. Fairfield flapped her hanky. “Mr. Fairfield’s in the parlor.”
“His ashes,
” Tony said. He thought she looked confused by his statement. “You had him cremated and have the ashes in the parlor, don’t you?”
“What are you accusing me of?” Mrs. Fairfield lunged to her feet. “Mr. Fairfield is as handsome as ever. I keep him under glass.” She gave Tony one last glare before heading toward the door. “I didn’t want him to need dusting.”
Tony was still considering the possibility that Mrs. Fairfield was using her deceased spouse as a decoration when Wade pulled into the driveway where one neighbor had shot another the previous day.
“It was an accident.” Mr. Austin met them outside on his driveway. He was still adamant, although after his trip to the jail, in handcuffs, his attitude was tinged with apology and embarrassment.
Tony wasn’t satisfied. “I don’t believe you.” His own embarrassment was being erased by irritation. He was embarrassed because he hadn’t taken the time to do as full an investigation of the shooting as he should have. He was irritated because he was sure the man had lied to him. “Shall we try this again?”
“I thought the gun wasn’t loaded.” Austin’s voice grew louder with each word.
“Even unloaded, why aim a gun into your neighbor’s kitchen?”
Sam Austin shook his head.
The arrival of Mrs. Emily Austin attracted the attention of everyone, especially the dogs, who ran toward the car, barking and enthusiastically wagging their tails. When she climbed from the car, she smiled at Wade and Tony and walked toward them, even as she greeted the dogs. “I’ve been visiting our neighbor, Mrs. Marsh, in the hospital. She has the most amazing story to tell.” She turned to her husband. “I had no idea you were so chivalrous.”
“Hush, Emily, not now.” Sam Austin tried to push his wife to stand behind him. “I’ll explain later.”
Mrs. Austin shoved him right back. “You might as well tell them the truth.” She smiled up at Tony. “I shot our neighbor, but Sam here was my intended target.”
“Why?”
Her cheerful expression could not hide her pain and underlying fear. Tony thought he could guess the reason for it, and he disapproved.
“Sam was cheating on me.” A wash of tears filled her eyes. “I’m not expected to live much more than two months, and Mr. Chivalrous here can’t behave until then.”
Tony had been so fascinated by her facial construction, he almost missed her meaning. The nose was perfect. Too perfect. And the space between her eyebrows was flat and too wide. “Cancer?”
“No.” She didn’t explain. “FYI, I watched him in the neighbor’s kitchen, their lips locked, hands where they should not have been, so I pulled the rifle from under the bed, aimed, and fired. Just as I pulled the trigger, he moved, and I couldn’t stop the bullet. The scum.”
“Why confess? If he’s guilty of cheating, why not let him be accused?” Tony thought the story sounded implausible. Irrational. And stupid.
“I considered it. That’s why I didn’t immediately run downstairs and explain.” She shrugged. “This way, I’ll be dead soon and he’ll have to live with the guilt—he didn’t pull the trigger but he is responsible for her injuries, and she will never be the woman she was before either. I mean, scars are exotic but there is a limit to their appeal.”
Tears streaming down his weathered face, Sam stammered a heartfelt apology. To his wife.
Tony wasn’t sure what to do. The two combatants were busy kissing and apologizing to each other. The jail was full to capacity. He said, “Promise you’ll behave and I’ll let you stay here until we can get this situation resolved. Do not leave the county.”
And, they did. Promise. Tony headed for town, hoping he’d done the right thing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
The morning of the Fourth of July started with the heavy boom of a cannon. The sound echoed through the hills and signaled the beginning of Park County’s celebration of America’s Independence Day. Unfortunately, Tony and his staff believed it would also signal the start of an outpouring of midsummer madness. Or, more accurately Tony thought, an increase in the madness already brewing.
The parade down Main Street involved not only the visiting classic cars and his children, Chris and Jamie, pushing the twins and leading the dog, but the Silersville High School band also marched. Flatbed trailers were converted into floats by every civic organization in the county and various youth groups. Uncle Sam, a regular participant, marched the parade route along with any number of festively dressed or decorated horses, dogs, and even a pig. There were all sizes and all shapes of people and animals.
Santhe Flowers displayed her colorful tattoos as she walked along Main Street, playing patriotic tunes on her flute while two of her plus-size sisters did an impromptu dance involving yards of red, white, and blue tulle.
Tony and Wade worked the parade route, mostly to keep the citizens from diving under an anxious horse while going after a piece of candy tossed from a float. While the black powder group was shooting blanks, the smoke and explosions were enough to startle the animals. The little girl riding the pig fell off, and the parade was halted for a few minutes while she was dusted off, calmed down, and put back on the pig to the sound of cheering.
One of the antique cars from the touring group overheated and had to be pushed out of the way of a goat pulling a cart filled with red, white, and blue balloons.
Bringing up the end of the parade was Claude Marmot, pushing a rolling trash can and carrying a shovel. He was dressed in blue and white striped pants and a red shirt and had a huge pink cowboy hat perched on his head. The crowd responded with a cheer and applause each time he scooped something off the street.
The winner of the children’s category was his own family. The peas slept in the pod, and the boys maintained control of Daisy, dressed in her doggie superhero cape and mask. The bagpipe group from North Carolina won the musical category, and grand prize for the best float went to a highly decorated flatbed trailer belonging to the senior citizens’ group.
After the parade, Tony was on his way back to the office when Clyde Finster waylaid him.
“Say, Sheriff?”
“Everything okay now?” Tony had personally delivered the unpleasant trophy fish. “You have your prize catch hanging on the wall?”
“Not exactly.” Finster stared at his feet. “The wife don’t like having it in the house. Says it’s her or the fish.”
“How about hanging it in your garage?” This was not Tony’s problem. He didn’t understand his compulsion to try to make things work out for the fisherman. The man just seemed so crushed.
“Truth, Sheriff?” Finster glanced back over his shoulder as if getting ready to share an important secret. “It’s not quite as pretty as I remembered it.”
Tony kept his opinion to himself. “Well, it’s up to you, I guess.” As he watched Finster weave his way through the crowd, Tony considered calling Claude Marmot, trash collector and recycling and repurposing guru, to warn him to watch out for the prize catch.
Tony eventually got to his office. It was too soon to have any official report on Candy Tibbles’s cause of death. Holiday or not, he spent an hour digging through the papers he’d ignored the day before. He planned to go home for a while and have a cookout with his family. After a short celebration, he’d be back in the trenches, on duty all night.
“I had an encounter with a social worker yesterday.” Theo carried a tray of condiments and dishes out the back door and down to the yard. With Tony’s schedule, this was the first chance she’d had to talk to him. “She wanted me to verify that Alvin works for us and wanted to know if we were satisfied with his work.”
“Odd woman? Bubble hair?” Tony lowered his voice. “Looks like she’s wearing a helmet?”
“Yes,” Theo whispered. “I’m not sure what she uses on it, but it’s got real holding power.”
“That’s Bonnie Hicks.” Thinking how much he preferred his wife’s wild curls, Tony followed Theo, his arms loaded down with buns, hamburger
patties, and hotdogs. As if building a garage and the addition to the upstairs was not enough for Gus, he’d added a paved patio and constructed a picnic table big enough to seat ten. Tony thought the very least they could do was host this small celebration.
The Fourth of July and the completed addition gave their afternoon a gala feel. Tony felt like an old grump at the party, knowing he’d be leaving soon. He was the only one there who had to return to work. Theo’s shop was closed, and even the museum wasn’t allowing visitors.
Gus sat at the table with his wife, Catherine. Each of them was holding one of Tony’s baby girls, still dressed like peas, and they were both laughing at some story Chris and Jamie were telling. Soaking wet from playing in the sprinkler, the boys’ story involved lots of waving arms, scattering droplets of water, and sound effects from the brothers, united for the moment in their storytelling.
“What did you tell Bonnie?” Tony pulled his mind back to Theo’s story about the social worker.
“That he does work for us and the work is good, and then she just turned around and left. It was bizarre.” Theo snagged a couple of potato chips from a bowl.
“That is odd. She’s usually pretty easy to deal with.” As the county’s sheriff, Tony had fairly frequent dealings with Bonnie. Aside from her imposing hair, she was a reasonably normal, helpful woman. She truly wanted to help children and families, and he was sure she dealt with even more paperwork and more frustrations with difficult people on a daily basis than he did.
“I thought I might have offended her with a comment I made.” Theo explained her wise crack about the children.
“No, that can’t be it. I’ve said awful things, and she laughs or takes them in stride.” Tony pushed the subject from his mind and grinned at his wealthy sister-in-law. “We want to thank you, sincerely, for the amazing addition to our home, Catherine. Would you like to choose one of our children in payment?”
Catherine’s smile was luminous. She shook her head.
Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight Page 14
